‘I never knew you were so punctual,’ I said.
‘Come on,’ Michele said, slamming his expresso cup down, ‘we need to collect Lorenzo.’
‘Absolutely not. He’s not going anywhere near that courthouse.’
The old vampire, dressed like Malachi in his protective ‘day’ suit, picked up the briefcase from the table. ‘He is an integral part of our plan. He’s coming.’
‘No, he’s not.’
Michele checked his watch. ‘Oh, mamma mia, fine. We don’t need him today. But tomorrow we need to call him up.’
I agreed, hoping that I’d think of something else overnight. At least Frigg’s prophecy had warned me about Praetor Cullen’s death. Maybe that was enough to prevent it. Penny took my arm and steered me towards the door. As planned, she and Malachi would join us in court, but the rest would stay behind, waiting at St. Michael’s. Nevertheless, I hoped to find a way to avoid casting the spell.
But the Black Widow still had my hair.
The limousine pulled up outside St. Michael’s, where Lorenzo was waiting against the bell tower in a black suit and grey shirt – the vampire seemed to only alternate between the two colours, no matter the occasion. Relief lightened his smile when I confirmed we didn’t need him in court today. ‘Keep an eye on our friend,’ I said.
‘No problem, Theo. And good luck.’
Fenrir and I leapt out and I thumped Lorenzo on the back. ‘Thanks, look after Fenrir, would you? Oh, if the world ends while I’m away, I’m glad that at some point we stopped hating each other.’
‘Love you too, me’ansum.’
We smiled awkwardly, our bromance rudely interrupted by Michele tapping on the window. When I slid back inside, I noticed that Penny had shifted closer to Malachi. I need her to kiss me.
The potion book I’d pinched from Father’s library had been a complicated mess of spells, but Lori’s neat organisation of the basement had come in handy, – she kept some supplies at the Old Vicarage, luckily – and the appropriate blend of ingredients was spread on my lips.
The revelation that Penny and Malachi at least liked each other was both disturbing and inconvenient. On the plus side, Penny appeared attracted to me, although I wondered whether it was personality or power that seduced her.
‘I’m glad you’re joining us, Penny,’ I said, avoiding eye contact with Malachi. The limousine glided through the tree-lined streets of Hellingstead, heading north to the HQ.
‘This affects us all.’ Her voice was sweet and hard like peanut brittle. She was worried. I leaned forward and took her hand from her lap and squeezed it. Bony. In fact, she had paled and slimmed down since I’d met her. I’d been so wrapped up in my own drama that I hadn’t noticed. He must be feeding on her.
A protective urge leapt up in my chest, its strength surprising. Penny and I needed to kiss soon, or the balm on my lips would start working on me. ‘Are you alright?’ I asked.
‘Once we are liberated, I will be.’ She sat back.
We slowed down. The gates to the Praetoriani opened.
And shut behind us.
38
The Golden Court
The golden courtroom was the polished jewel in the Praetoriani’s crown, one buried underground. The chandeliers blazed, the light reflecting off mirror panels and the marbled floor. I adjusted the catch of my cloak over my shirt and tie. Father, also wearing Clemensen green, sat in the bench behind me and Michele, sitting apart from Menelaus, Julian, Penny, and Malachi.
Already the battle lines had been drawn, the observers filling the benches, hinting their allegiance by which side of the room they chose to occupy. Jeremiah sat near the back, a few of his attendants for company. I glanced at the huge double-doors as they opened again, slumping back down because Nikolaj wasn’t among the newcomers. Some, I did recognise. More, when the jury filed in, called up one by one.
Belle, and two others I’d met at the clandestine meeting she’d set up, a red head and a grey-haired Indian man. The remaining nine were strangers.
Noise. I struggled to pick out individual voices as people whispered and chattered. Michele flipped the clips on his briefcase, his leathered face composed. A hush fell over the crowd as Praetor Cullen strode in through a side door, his maroon robes sweeping the steps as he ascended the bench and took his position.
‘Please be upstanding for the magistrate, Praetor Cullen.’
We stood as one.
‘Be seated.’
Wood creaked as we obeyed.
‘Theodore Alastair Clemensen, represented by Doctor Michele De Laurentis, acting on the behalf of the defendant, faces the initial charges of four counts of Absconding from Assessment, one count of Failure to Report, in this case the location of an item belonging to the Praefecti, and one count of Intention to Practice Magic with Malo Animo. However, since the plea hearing, the prosecution has informed me that further evidence has come to light suggesting that Mr Clemensen may have been involved in multiple counts of Actual Practise of Magic with Malo Animo and Misuse of Magic. Based on the strength of this evidence, Mr Clemensen must answer these more serious charges, as well.’ Praetor Cullen stared down his hawkish nose at Michele. ‘Are we ready to proceed?’
‘Yes, Your Honour,’ said the prosecutor, a woman in her late thirties. Her tie-wig provided her a halo of golden curls to match mine, whereas Cullen’s was like sheep’s wool.
‘Objection, Your Honour.’ Michele shot up. ‘My client was not informed of these increased charges—’
But Cullen was ready for us this time. ‘Overruled – the evidence only became available at the last moment and is compelling enough to shed light on the initial charges and the defendant’s character.’
Michele bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time to kick up a fuss. As angry as I was, we had to tuck it away and bide our time.
The magistrate smiled and addressed the jury. He explained what the charges meant, emphasising the severity of the additional charges, and reminded them that a guilty verdict should only be returned if the charges were proved beyond reasonable doubt.
His tone implied exactly what he intended, and several jury members appraised me thoroughly. I felt naked under their scrutiny. The twitches that had settled in the last few days erupted again, spasms rippling across my cheeks and neck.
Father’s breath heated my neck. ‘Relax,’ he whispered.
The prosecutor stood and strode out onto the floor. Ella Strand was her name; Michele had told me he’d faced her before and he didn’t appear enthused to repeat the experience. She was poised, confident. Her fine hands and fingers moved as if she held a paintbrush against a canvas, layering up the arguments for the jury to marvel at.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury,’ Ella began, ‘Theodore Clemensen was born into a powerful family, famous the world over. It seems rumours follow the Clemensens wherever they go, and now and then, they have clashed with the Praefecti, in one way or another.’
I swallowed, wanting to shout: Don’t bring my mother into this! Seething, I kept my chin up. ‘But this trial is not built on rumour. The evidence we are about to present will prove how the Clemensens have used their position of privilege and power to achieve their own insidious ends – the defendant reared on a cocktail of lies that has made him hate all the Praetoriani has come to stand for. Justice. Honour. Protection.’
Ella’s eyes widened as if in awe as she held her hand to her heart. Softer, she said, ‘Theodore Clemensen faces serious charges that directly contravene the Second Precept of the Code, and the Third and Fifth Binds. We will start with the least serious breach in the Code: Failure to Report – in this case the locations of an item belonging to the Praefecti, to give you a flavour of the defendant’s arrogance.’
Michele bristled beside me. His top lip bulged slightly, his fangs betraying his temper. No one else seemed to notice.
‘Your Honour, the prosecution would like to call Assessor James Fyn as a witness.’ Praetor Cullen nodded, and I turned to fi
nd the young man, with over-gelled hair, from my Assessment, strolling down the aisle. He took to the gold-rimmed witness stand in his grey suit, smiling at Ella, who approached him, the white-and-gold book open in her hand. ‘Do you swear on the Sacred Code laid down by our Founders, and by Akhenaten’s Grace, that you James Fyn will speak with Truth, Honour, and for the Justice of All?’
‘I swear,’ he said, palm spread over the open page.
‘Thank you. When did Theodore Clemensen attend his initial Assessment?’ Ella asked, gesturing to me. Can you give me an exact date?’
‘Yes, the twenty-second of May, 2015.’
‘Who interviewed him?’
‘Myself, and two others: Praetor Holmes and Overseer Daphne West.’
Ella nodded emphatically. ‘And what led you and your esteemed colleagues to the conclusion that the defendant knew the whereabouts of the item reported missing from the Praefecti?’
James made a triangle with his fingers, resting his forearms on the edge of the stand. ‘As we recorded the interview, I can confidentially say that when we showed a picture of the item in question to Mr Clemensen, he described it as an “old coin”, which is exactly how it looks.’
‘One moment,’ Ella said, walking over to an auxiliary, who then proceeded to give out ring binders to the jury. She took the last copy for herself. ‘Please refer to Item A. This is an excerpt from Theodore’s Assessment, so you can see for yourselves.’ She turned her back as if allowing them the privacy to read, returning to James. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Sure. After breaking the ice with some poignant questions, without prompting, Mr Clemensen described the item as an “amulet” despite his original perception. This change alerted us because this is exactly the function of the “old coin”.’
‘Right. So you believe the defendant knew exactly what he was being shown and lied? But the truth slipped out by accident?’
James sat back. ‘Yes. We attempted to schedule further Assessment, but after that date, Theodore ignored all summons to return, which only confirmed our suspicions.’
‘Thank you. No further questions for now, Your Honour.’
As Ella took to the bench, Michele sprang up, with his expensive Italian shoes like those of a dancing puppet, as he moved over the marbled floor. He stopped about a foot from the witness, then spun round. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I’m glad you took time out of your busy lives to witness the travesty that Praetoriani justice has become. Their claims against my client are delusory. One can tell when a great institution has become stagnant, for it will sink its claws into anything or anyone who shows more flexibility, in hope of shielding itself from further decline. But even great buildings succumb to weather eventually.’
He paused, looking thoughtful. ‘As Praetor Cullen said, under the Codes, the burden of proof relies on the prosecution. If, as I’m sure you’ll be after hearing all the facts, you’re in any doubt that Theodore Clemensen is absolutely Guilty in any or all the charges brought against him, you must return a Not Guilty vote for those charges. This principle is the only thing that protects us Pneuma.’
Michele swivelled back to James, each extension of limb exuding a lithe grace. ‘I am pleased you are here too, Assessor Fyn,’ he said, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing up and down.
‘Is that so?’ James asked.
‘Yes, your presence just proves how contrived the evidence is against my client. Tell the jury, if you please, why you even decided to show Mr Clemensen the picture of this amulet in the first place?’
James hid his hesitation with a smile. ‘We were informed by a Praefecti official that the Clemensens’ movements appear to coincide with sightings of the amulet.’
‘Interesting,’ said Michele, ‘so can you tell us when exactly the amulet went missing from the Praefecti?’
‘Well,’ James began, ‘I don’t have those dates….’
‘Do you even know whether the Praefecti has ever possessed this prized amulet, if it has always been correlated with the movements of the Clemensen family?’
‘I—’
‘I’m unsurprised by your ignorance. It seems a common fault among the young.’ A murmured chuckle spread over the court. Michele was old. ‘Age however, has given me the luxury of time. I have been digging, Assessor, and guess what?’ He raised his voice. ‘I have found no record of this “amulet” in the Praefecti’s public archives. Obviously you’re aware that the Praefecti are legally obliged under Counter-Bind Three to produce a list of artefacts and their historical lineage on request? No? Again, I am unsurprised; the Praefecti rarely emphasise their own obligations to the Pneuma community.
‘However, I was forced to conclude that this amulet was never in the Praefecti’s possession. Thus, there’s no evidence whatever that they own it. I would argue that if such a thing exists, and has always been associated with the Clemensens, then it must belong to them, and not the Praefecti.’
He paused as whispers rippled over the benches. Praetor Cullen held up his gavel and hush descended. ‘Theodore Clemensen is but one member of this family, and cannot be presumed to know about its whereabouts, even if it was a family legend.’
‘Then why not admit that he’s heard about it?’ James said, smoothing his hair. ‘And I can assure you the amulet belongs to Akhenaten himself.’
‘Really?’ Michele halted, as if fascinated by this proclamation. ‘Oh, and have you prepared a writ of lineage or ownership to present to the jury? I assume you must have, considering how diligent you were about preparing an excerpt?’
James glared. ‘No.’
‘No? So you base your claims on an assumption, not fact at all?’
Ella stood up. ‘Objection, Your Honour! The witness did not have prior warning to produce such a document.’
The gavel came down. ‘Upheld, move on, De Laurentis.’
Michele rolled his shoulders back. ‘Doctor. As you wish. To answer your question, James, even if my client had heard of such a thing, that’s no reason to suppose he understood the picture was meant to be the same fabled amulet. And regarding the excerpt, why hasn’t the jury been given a complete transcript of the Assessment?’
‘It contains periphery issues not pertinent to the charge.’
‘But it does show Theo explaining that the object you showed him looked very much like a museum piece he saw on a family holiday – the Kinevvby Amulet?’ Michele returned to his briefcase and produced a set of sheets for the jury to inspect. ‘This is what caused my client to refer to this “old coin” as an amulet.’
Several members of the jury nodded. ‘So, we have established that the Praefecti are unable to produce evidence of ownership or possession and are charging my client for going on educational trips to his father’s homeland. I wonder if James has ever heard the phrase, “ubi jus incertum, ibi jus nullum”? It means when the law is uncertain, there is no law. I would also argue the same of possession.’
Michele toyed with a cuff for a moment. ‘No further questions, Your Honour.’ He flashed Ella a toothy smile as he returned to my side.
I glanced round at Father and Menelaus, their postures more confident and relaxed than before, although Father tensed as James left the witness stand and walked back outside. There were several rooms adjacent to the courts, and my stomach churned at the thought of who might be waiting to take his place.
Any confidence leaked right through my feet as Ella rose, rubbing her earlobe. I hoped it was a nervous tick but her sharp eyes honed in on the jury. ‘Mr Clemensen’s advocate has himself suggested that the Clemensens may be withholding the amulet from our Imperi Ducis, but why? Clearly it’s an item of power, something that can only be trusted to the Great Leader himself. Yet they refuse to pass it over. Theodore Clemensen also believes he is above the Codes. Why not come back to explain his words during the Assessment? Why did he ignore Official Summons if not for his arrogance and his disrespect for the Praetoriani’s aims?’
‘Objection, Your Honour!�
�� Michele snarled. ‘My client already received a probationary sentence for this, which was not his fault anyway, considering he was being tortured at the time.’
A gasp rippled around the room. I felt Menelaus touch me on the shoulder. Had he talked to Julian about that? I had accused him when I’d attacked Menelaus in the churchyard, but we hadn’t mentioned it since.
‘Yet he accepted your ruling, Your Honour, as a show of good faith,’ Michele said, staring him down. ‘Don’t undermine that faith.’ His accent thickened, a timbre threat coating the syllables.
Praetor Cullen surveyed the silent court. ‘Miss Strand, if you have a point, make it, and move on.’
Ella bowed.
Arse kisser, I thought.
‘Yes, Mr Clemensen claimed he was kidnapped and tortured after his Assessment, but why? Who kidnapped him and for what reason? He is unable to say. He claims he was so badly tortured that he was incapable of returning to the Praetoriani, and yet he was discharged from hospital a few days later, fully healed, according to his doctor’s report. Quite a medical mystery, wouldn’t you say?
‘Where did he go when he left hospital and why did he abscond from Assessment when he’d been healed? Surely it is unlikely anything else happened to him which required complete bedrest? Anyone would think Mr Clemensen would welcome the Praetoriani’s aid in finding his supposed torturers? Suspicious, if you ask me.’
Ella paused to take a breath, the jury enraptured by her performance. Every point she made was emphasised with an arsenal of hand gestures and practised facial expressions. ‘We will return to this point in due course, as it also gives compelling evidence that Mr Clemensen was involved in profane magic after his discharge from hospital. But for now, suppose he did indeed return home to recover, despite Doctor Smyth’s documentation. It still doesn’t explain why Theodore couldn’t reply to a simple letter or inform the Praetoriani what had happened. Three summons he missed – three! I will tell you exactly why he missed them, and prove it was a direct consequence of his first known act of Magic with Malo Animo.’
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