The crowd around us ate up his pandering remarks.
Captain Goode crossed the stage toward Sebastian. “No doubt you’ve read the newspaper reports of Mr. Braddock’s power, and some of you may be understandably nervous about being in the presence of such danger. Allow me to reassure you that you are in safe hands.” He reached over the bar and clapped his hand on Sebastian’s arm like he was reaching into the lion’s cage of the zoo.
Captain Goode didn’t fall over and die choking on his breath like I hoped. He gave us all a reassuring smile. “As you can see, I’ve turned off his power, so there’s no need to worry about his deadly touch or his so-called ‘death blast’ that affects everyone around him. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a threat. I intend to prove Mr. Braddock used this power in a willful and malicious manner, I intend to bring him to justice for his many crimes, and I intend to bring peace to our city again. I won’t let him take a single innocent life more!”
A laugh escaped my mouth when he finished. Or a sob. I couldn’t quite tell. This whole trial was already absurd.
Of course, appreciative murmurs rumbled through the crowd. They had all heard of Captain Goode’s power, but it was another matter to see their new hero render the most feared man in London completely powerless. A man with such confidence that death did not bother him.
Captain Goode confidently returned to his table and took the seat beside an impassive Miss Fahlstrom. My stomach twisted as I wondered what death she saw for Sebastian. Did she already know how this trial would end?
“Prosecution, you may call your first witness,” the judge said.
“I’d like to call Mr. William Shaw,” Captain Goode announced.
“What? Doesn’t Sebastian get to make a statement?” I asked Catherine.
“Only near the end,” she whispered back.
Wonderful. After everyone’s made up their minds. If they hadn’t already.
From a box of witnesses near the front of the stage, a familiar, slim man—compact enough to resemble a young boy but bald enough to prove he was not—emerged and stepped into the witness-box in front of the jury. The smoke man who attacked us on the train. The completely impartial witness swore to tell the truth as Captain Goode stepped back on stage to begin his questioning.
“Mr. Shaw, will you tell the court what your profession is?”
“Yes, I have been a member of the Society of Aberrations for a month and a half,” the man said, his limbs loose and easy. They all seemed so sure of today’s outcome.
“And what is your unique power?” Captain Goode asked.
“I can create a thick smoke,” Mr. Shaw answered. “If my target is caught within it, they will find it difficult to see and breathe.”
“Would you demonstrate this power, safely, for the court?”
“Of course,” Mr. Shaw said. He lifted his hand straight up in the air and a black plume of smoke flowed upward from his palm. The crowd tittered in excitement, watching it join the smog of the city. Mr. Shaw’s face was not one made for smiling, but he seemed pleased.
“Thank you,” Captain Goode said. “Now, what is your relationship with the prisoner?”
“I didn’t know the prisoner personally, but we were both members of the Society for a time before he turned against us,” Mr. Shaw said. “My only encounter with him was about ten days ago, when I was ordered to capture him.”
“And why were you ordered to capture Sebastian Braddock?”
“He was suspected to be involved in the Belgrave Ball, which had occurred three days earlier.”
They were so rehearsed, so efficient in their questions and answers. How could no one see that this was all an elaborate, fabricated farce? My face was burning.
“And what happened during this encounter?”
“I, along with four other members of the Society, tracked Mr. Braddock and his followers to Victoria Station and onto a train. They attempted to flee at the first sight of us, but we managed to corner them in one of the carriages. Rather than come peacefully, they attacked us with a complete disregard for the safety of the other passengers.” Mr. Shaw was actually idly looking at his fingernails, picking something out from under one.
“What happened to you in this attack?”
“I attempted to minimize the damage by blocking them with my smoke,” Mr. Shaw said. “But Mr. Braddock managed to seize me and use his power on me.”
“And what were the effects of his power?” Captain Goode asked.
“It became very difficult for me to breathe,” Mr. Shaw said. “I felt feverish in seconds. It felt like my energy, my life was being drained from me. I don’t remember anything except fear. And then I fell unconscious.”
“When did you wake up?”
“The next day. I had been brought to the Society of Aberrations medical ward, but I was still very sick.”
“What was the sickness like?”
“The same as I had on the train. Fever, coughing, difficulty breathing. There were blue markings all over my body. It took me almost a week to recover.”
“And we are all very glad of that,” Captain Goode said. “Thank you, Mr. Shaw.”
The judge turned his attention upon Sebastian as Captain Goode returned to his table. “Defense may cross-examine the witness.”
Sebastian and Mr. Shaw stared at each other for a moment, Mr. Shaw entirely unconcerned, holding back a yawn, even. And then Sebastian shook his head. “No questions.”
The crowd murmured at that, taking it to be obvious proof that Sebastian was guilty of it all.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said, dropping my head into my hands. “He’s not even going to try?”
I felt Rose put a comforting hand on my back, but she had no words of encouragement. Catherine opened her mouth and closed it a few times, finding no possible explanation of a secret clever strategy Sebastian could be employing. But he said to trust him.
So I clutched his note tightly in my fist and tried to trust him as Captain Goode called his next witnesses. A coroner who determined the cause of death for victims at the Belgrave Ball. The first policeman to find the bodies. A doctor from the Royal Hospital Chelsea who saw a number of patients with similar symptoms that night. Two occupants of other houses in Belgrave Square who briefly suffered the effects of Sebastian’s power. A driver who fell unconscious on the street after seeing Sebastian fleeing the scene. A neighbor who saw him climbing into the window of the home of John Bell the night of his murder. A maid who encountered him entering her employer’s home before his murder. A soldier who saw him attack the Queen. A hotel guest who saw him holding a gun. A conductor who saw him running from a train in Paddington before it erupted in flames.
And, of course, Sebastian stayed nobly silent the whole time, doing nothing to exonerate himself, asking no cross-examination questions of his own.
As the hours passed into late afternoon and Captain Goode finished calling all his witnesses, the air grew even more charged. The evidence against Sebastian had piled up to the sky, and the crowd was restless. They no longer needed to be convinced of his guilt. They needed to see him punished for it.
“Defense, you may call your first witness,” the judge declared.
Well, they were going to see it very soon. Who did Sebastian have for witnesses if he wanted to protect us all? Couldn’t I go down and be a witness? It wasn’t as if Captain Goode could do anything to me there in front of all these people.
No. Deep breath. Trust him.
“I wish to call Mr. Charles Warren,” Sebastian said.
I blinked. The name didn’t register for a moment. Then I saw him emerge from the table for reporters, step up into the witness-box, and swear on the Bible. The editor from the Daily Telegraph whom we had tried to blackmail. This was the best character witness he could find? My trust in Sebastian was reaching its limits.
“Mr. Warren, would you please tell the court what you do?” Sebastian asked.
“I’ve been an editor at the Daily Telegraph f
or ten years,” he answered.
Sebastian leaned closer, still restrained by the railing. “Would you please describe the last time we met?”
“Very well,” Mr. Warren said, turning to the jury. “It was one week ago. Mr. Braddock barged into my office with a male and female accomplice of the same age with the intention of correcting my story about the murder of Sir Thomas Cox. They claimed to have the true story. That it was not Mr. Braddock who committed the murder.”
“How did we attempt to prove it to you?”
“The male accomplice revealed a special power of his own. Any question he asked forced the listener to give an honest answer. It was then Mr. Braddock revealed who he was and answered the accomplice’s questions.” Mr. Warren was as neat and confident and blastedly accurate as he had seemed when we visited him days before.
“Was this truth power used on you at any point in this conversation?”
“Yes, the accomplice attempted to learn of any secrets I had, so he could blackmail me into writing a new article.”
How courteous of Sebastian to add more crimes to the list.
But Sebastian didn’t seem at all bothered about this. “Please describe how his power forced you to speak the truth.”
What on earth was he doing?
Mr. Warren thought about it for a moment. “I … I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. And my immediate response could not be controlled. The truth simply came out. Only after my truthful answer was given was I able to speak freely. Unfortunately for them, I have no damaging secrets, so their attempt failed, and I called for the police, while they fled.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren,” Sebastian said, then looked to the judge. “I have no further questions for this witness.”
“Prosecution may cross-examine the witness,” the judge said.
Captain Goode rose from his seat and looked between Mr. Warren and Sebastian, a faint expression of amusement on his face. He shook his head and sat back down. “I don’t believe we need to.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren, you may be seated,” the judge said. “Does the defense have another witness?”
The crowd grumbled audibly now, and I heard someone call for a hanging already. I didn’t know whether to hope Sebastian still had some miraculous plan or that he’d simply stop digging himself into a deeper hole. Trust him. Trust him. Trust hi—
“I wish to call Captain Simon Goode as a witness.”
He’d gone absolutely mad.
Upon my first movement toward the stairs, Miss Rao’s grip tightened around my arm and her glare pinned me to the ground. She wasn’t going to let me go without a fight.
“Please tell me I am seeing an absurd illusion,” I whispered to Catherine.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think we are,” Catherine said. “But we are trying our best to trust him, too.”
I stayed in place, feeling sick and quite sure I would cast up the little water I’d had this morning. Captain Goode stepped into the witness-box, swore on the Bible, and then waited patiently for the questions, ready to lie.
Sebastian said nothing. He stood silently and glanced up at the sky, waiting as well.
The judge cleared his throat. “Mr. Braddock … you must begin your questioning.”
“My defense counsel will be questioning him,” Sebastian said.
“You have no defense counsel,” the judge said. “So if you have no questions for Captain Goode, then—”
“Apologies for being late,” a voice rang out from above. “But I really didn’t want to be here on time.”
My head craned up, along with everyone else in the court, to be greeted by the oddest sight of my life.
Floating high over the square was a hot-air balloon.
Poking out of the balloon’s basket was a speaking trumpet.
And booming out of the speaking trumpet was Mr. Kent’s voice.
My mouth dropped open. My stomach dropped down. I was surprised I managed to stay conscious.
“Nicky!” Laura squealed, clapping her hands together.
“Captain Goode!” Mr. Kent shouted into the horn, the sound rising over the square. He had to speak slower to be understood, but his voice still boomed over the confused chatter of the crowd. “Tell the good people here, were you the true cause of the massacre at the Belgrave Ball?”
“Yes,” the answer came out, clear as day.
“And the train crash at Paddington?”
“Yes.”
“And the assassination attempt on the Queen?”
“Yes.” Capitan Goode’s shock turned to fury, and he tried to correct himself. “No! I was not; these are all l—”
“Remind everyone, what is my power?” Mr. Kent cut him off.
“The ability to ask a question and receive the truth in response.”
Captain Goode was ash-gray now, concentrating hard on Mr. Kent’s balloon. I laughed among the baffled crowd as I realized that he couldn’t do anything to turn this power off as long as Mr. Kent remained out of sight.
“Please tell me this isn’t an absurd illusion,” I said.
“Dear Lord, this might actually work,” Catherine said. “If he gets everyone to turn against him.”
“How did you get Mr. Braddock blamed for these crimes?” Mr. Kent asked.
Captain Goode leaped out of the witness-box, but his answer still came. “I raised his power to a deadly level at the Belgrave Ball to kill everyone in the room. I sent members of the Society of Aberrations to Paddington Station to destroy the train. And I ordered a member to create illusions of Mr. Braddock fleeing Paddington and attacking the Queen.” He shook his head wildly and turned to the crowd. “No, these are lies, I did not—”
“Are you blackmailing some members of the Society of Aberrations into working for you?”
Captain Goode tried to block his ears, but the question was loud enough to get through. “Yes! N—”
“How?”
“Threatening their families and friends. Imprisoning them. Hurting them.” Captain Goode waved to his guards below the stage. “No! He is lying and manipulating my mind. Stop him!”
“Arrest that man!” Mr. Kent fired back.
Most of the Society members and the police stood frozen, unsure what to do. Even Miss Fahlstrom rose from her seat, looking rather disturbed.
But there were enough who were still loyal to Captain Goode. One extremely large man leaped from the bottom of the stage straight into the middle of the crowd and out of the stadium with a few swift bounces like a spring-heeled jack, a sight made even odder given the man’s height and breadth. A worn, worried-looking, almost motherly woman fired needles from her hand, puncturing holes in the balloon. And a loud crack rent the air as the electric woman fired a massive bolt at the basket of Mr. Kent’s balloon, setting it ablaze.
“No!” Laura screamed. The crowd erupted, but not in the direction Mr. Kent had hoped. The tension from the trial, the strangeness of the balloon, Captain Goode’s sudden revelations, the startling display of powers—it was too much. Everyone rushed up the stairs, climbing up the court steps, a massive tide of bodies that pushed us in the wrong direction.
“I appear to be on fire.” Mr. Kent’s voice wavered nervously through the speaking trumpet as his balloon descended. “Miss Wyndham, if you’re out there, this was entirely Mr. Braddock’s fault. He used flattery, and I was powerless to resist.”
I looked around frantically, catching a glimpse of Sebastian being dragged up the stairs by Captain Goode on the other side of the court. The rest of the Society members followed in the direction of Mr. Kent’s balloon, which drifted toward the end of the fields. Smoke started to fill the court, courtesy of Mr. Shaw.
“We have to help him!” Laura cried, pulling desperately out of Emily’s hold. She forced her way upstairs and into the sea of bodies, trying to get around the court the long way, to get to Mr. Kent’s balloon.
“Laura! Laura!” I shouted, struggling forward. “Dammit, stop her!” I tried to keep my eyes on her, Se
bastian, and Mr. Kent all at once, fear for them rising.
Emily was already chasing after Laura, climbing up the steps, telekinetically stopping the people in her way, creating a narrow path through the crowd.
We stumbled through the screaming masses in her wake. People knocked into us from the side, but I kept Emily in my sight and pushed and elbowed everyone else out of the way without much restraint. My touch would heal them anyway.
We finally got to the other side of the court, where there was actually room to breathe, and joined the spectators confused enough to run in the direction of the chaos. I lost track of Captain Goode, Sebastian, and even Mr. Kent’s balloon as the smoke blocked our view, but we pressed on behind Emily, coughing our way through.
And suddenly the balloon was in front of us, deflated on the grass, the empty basket still burning away, the source of the smoke. No one from the Society was there. Only a few gawking spectators, policemen, and Laura, her feet locked to the ground, struggling against Emily’s telekinetic hold and then her real hold.
“No, no, no, no,” Laura whispered, every bit of her small and helpless. She sank back into Emily’s arms. “He’s going to kill Nicky!”
I put my hands on Laura’s shoulders, trying to keep her still, trying to calm myself at the same time. My body was vibrating with tension, every nerve on alert, every bit of me stretched to the limit. “Laura. Look at me. Captain Goode won’t. He told me himself. The powers are valuable. He’ll keep them alive. And we’ll get them back. Say it.”
Laura repeated me, sniffles between each word. “We’ll—get—them—back.”
I took a deep breath. She took one herself. And another. Calming herself enough that Emily and I could loosen our holds.
Miss Chen’s frown cut between us. “I know he wants them alive, but that’s exactly why we should be back to panicking and running.”
“What … what do you mean?” I asked.
“He can enhance Mr. Kent and ask Mr. Braddock anything,” she said. “What do you think will be his first question?”
These Vengeful Souls Page 19