“Well,” Sarah begins. “Can we ask that he not call me? He called me last week and he sounded so strange. He started crying that he wasn’t a drunk or a cheat. I told him I didn’t care what his excuse was because that’s all it was, an excuse.”
“Sure...” My voice trails off as Mark, and what can only be Mr. Hicks, head into the courtroom. I feel a little pang of sympathy for Mark. He really is telling her the truth. Only the truth is much worse than a few too many bourbon and Cokes or a girl on the side. “They’re here so let’s go in. Just remember, relax and tell the truth. You have the better position here. You will have the judge eating out of your hand.”
Max mumbles something that sounds like something about Mark wanting to eat the judge’s hand but when I look back at him, he is just smiling. Sarah is too nervous to catch our exchange as I elbow him in the ribs. She pulls her coat tight around her shoulders and follows us into the courtroom.
The judge calls our case first and we proceed to the counsel tables at the front of the room. I unpack my file and scan the gallery for familiar faces. Zaid is in the back row sporting dark glasses and an expensive suit, looking like a mob boss. Real incognito Zaid. I don’t see Serge, hopefully that means he is still laid up from his injuries.
The judge calls us to order and tells Mr. Hicks to call his first witness. To my surprise, he calls Mark to the stand. Mark gets up and walks to the witness stand in that gliding way I have come to associate only with vampires. His is neatly pressed and I can only faintly smell the rotten stench he sported at our last meeting, or maybe I just think I smell it. I resist the urge to turn around to see what Zaid is doing.
“Please state your name for the record,” Mr. Hicks booms. He pulls out a silk hankie and mops his forehead while he waits for Mark’s answer.
“Mark Aaron Ainsworth,” he replies without a hint of the depravity he displayed at Lucan’s apartment. He definitely seems more vampire than before, or maybe it’s because I have been living with a vampire for the last few weeks and I’m more attuned. Or maybe he has been completely turned since our last meeting and he is more vampire than before. I quickly stomp on that thought process. That is Zaid’s department at the moment, not mine.
Mr. Hicks expertly takes Mark through the whys and what-fors of him being allowed to stay in the apartment. He is a skilled enough lawyer, even if he is dirty and knee deep in the supernatural. Soon enough it’s my turn to question Mark.
“Mr. Ainsworth,” I begin, shuffling a few papers in front of me for effect. “My name is Abri Cole and I represent your wife in this matter. We’ve never met before today, have we?” Maybe I am feeling a little bold with Zaid in the courtroom, but I can’t help myself.
I hear a shuffle in the back of the room that I hope is not Serge rising to rip my throat out as Zaid drives a stake through his heart. The judge looks nonplussed and the bailiff is still half asleep at his post, so it’s probably nothing. I glance over at Mr. Hicks who seems oblivious to the story underlying my question.
Mark’s eyes flash red for the briefest of instances. In fact, if you didn’t know such a feat was possible, you would have missed it. I expect him to come unglued, maybe lunge for my jugular, but he does nothing more than shift back in his chair.
“No ma’am,” he finally answers. “We have not. But I understand you and Sarah are childhood friends.”
“Yes, we are, but I don’t believe that has anything to do with why we are here today. Your Honor, I would object to that last part as nonresponsive.”
The judge looks over his glasses at me in annoyance. “Sustained Counselor. Let’s keep this moving, shall we.”
“Yes sir,” I reply with a smile. He’s already made up his mind. I will be quick in the hopes that it is in my favor. “Mr. Ainsworth, where are you living now?”
“A hotel. The Essex House.” I keep my face as neutral as possible. I don’t want to risk raising his suspicions by seeming to eager.
“And who’s paying for it?” I ask, not missing a beat.
“I am.”
“And who’s paying for the apartment Sarah is living in?”
“No one. It’s paid for. I'm not sure she knew that, but I paid cash for it when we moved here.” Mark glances at Sarah and I see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. Sarah shifts nervously next to me. My heart breaks for him, even though he’s technically the enemy here—on more than one level—he obviously does love Sarah.
“Do you know what you wife does for a living?” I ask trying to convey as much sympathy as I can get away with by my voice. I can’t help but think that if Lucan and I can make it work, so could Mark and Sarah.
“She works in a gallery. I know she doesn’t make much money. Not enough to pay the bills on the apartment or the taxes and cooperative dues and certainly not enough to take care of herself as I could. I make ten times what she does.” Now I could object to all of that as nonresponsive, but Mark is helping me make my case so much that I just let it go. Hicks looks like he might explode. In it just for the money or not, he obviously doesn’t like to lose.
“So you would agree with me that it’s best that she say in the apartment and that you should be paying all those things you mentioned until this case is resolved?”
Mr. Hicks bolts from his chair to give a rather exasperated plea. “Objection! Your Honor…” His voice trails off when he realizes there isn’t really an objection for your client telling the truth about how he feels and opening the door for your opposing counsel to defeat your motion.
“Answer the question Mr. Ainsworth,” the judge intones.
“Yes. Yes, I would. I’m sorry Sarah, I really am. You should use my account at First National for whatever you need. You still have the debit card for it, right. The checkbook is in my desk upstairs.”
“Then it’s settled,” the judge interrupts Mark before he can award Sarah anything more. “Mr. Ainsworth you may step down. Ms. Cole, I suspect you have an order for me to sign to that effect?”
“Yes sir.” I motion for Max to hand it to me. “May I approach the bench?”
The Judge nods and I hand a copy to Hicks as I walk up to the bench. I pass Mark on his way back to Hick’s side and he flinches a bit before lowering his eyes. As I hand the judge his copy, I turn around to look at Zaid. He is now sitting in the first row, one hand on the railing that separates the gallery from the counsel tables, pretending to look at his phone. He looks up and I give him a small smile that I hope conveys that all is good.
The judge signs my order and hands it back over the bench. “Mrs. Ainsworth will have exclusive use of the apartment and may withdraw any funds necessary for her living expenses from the account at First National Bank during the pendency of this case. Mr. Ainsworth will see that the taxes and cooperative dues remain current and that the balance of the account is sufficient at all times for her living expenses. I expect the parties to exchange reports on the various assets in this case and a proposed distribution of all property within the next thirty days.”
“Yes sir,” Hicks and I reply at the same time.
“You’re dismissed then. The court will take a thirty minute recess.” The judge bangs his gavel once and stands up. Everyone rises at the bailiff’s instruction and waits for the judge to head for his chambers. Once he’s gone, Hicks and Mark begin whispering at their table. I start packing up my files ready to clear out before Mark and Hicks are finished.
“Abri, thank you,” Sarah says, wiping her eyes.
“You’re welcome. It was easy. Mark really helped with his answers. That’s why I didn’t even have to call you as a witness.” Immediately I feel bad for gloating. Mark’s hearing is probably acute enough to overhear us.
“Still, thank you. Do you think it would be okay for me to talk to Mark for a minute? I mean, here in the court room?” she asks quietly. I notice Mark stilling a few feet away. He’s definitely heard us.
I glance over at Zaid before I answer. He nods, still pretending to look at his phone. “Sur
e. Just make sure you don’t say anything that might make Hicks want to tell the judge to change his mind.”
Sarah steps between the tables to get Mark’s attention. Zaid’s hand goes up on the bar again but his eyes never leave his phone. I move to the far side of the table, so as to be out of the line of fire, and thumb through a few papers to look busy. Max does the same. I can tell he’s torn between wanting to leave and wanting to see the showdown. I write him a note on my legal pad that Zaid is with us and everything is okay. Luckily, the courtroom has emptied out at the announcement of the court’s recess. We are the only ones still here; even the bailiff is gone.
“Sarah!” Mark cries. “God, Sarah, I am so sorry. Please, please let’s talk this over. I need to tell you something. Something very—” he stops, his attention drawn to the tall, dark, and now very not-so-incognito Zaid standing just behind the railing. Zaid flashes a fangy smile at Mark before sitting back down to play with his phone. Sarah follows Mark’s gaze towards Zaid but she doesn’t seem to notice the dental display, she just seems perturbed that he’s stopped talking mid-sentence.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses Mark. I really don’t. There isn’t anything that you could tell me that would change my mind. I don’t care if you’ve been possessed by demons and they’ve been telling you to act this way. I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this.” Sarah’s voice is nearing a roar.
The last thing I need is an angry judge when I have just won one of the best financial victories of my career. I am also afraid that Mark will get the balls to tell Sarah what has been possessing him and then follow it up with a “Just ask your attorney, she knows all about it.” It is definitively time to go.
“Sarah,” I warn, giving Mark a stern look over her shoulder as well. “Maybe now is not the place for this. We need to get going before the judge come back in here and changes his mind.”
“Good idea. I don’t want to talk to you anymore Mark. I just wanted to tell you it’s time to forward your mail. I'm tired of mailing it to your office.”
“Sarah, just give me his mail and I will see that he gets it. Now, let’s go.” My voice is stern, more for Mark’s benefit than Sarah’s. He’s doing a great guppy impression, trying to will his mouth to finish what he’s started, but nothing’s coming out. Her back is still to me so she cannot see my face pleading with Mark to leave it alone. Just as he finds his voice Zaid lets out a warning half growl, half cough behind us that silences Mark again.
Sarah, Max, and I make it outside of the courthouse without further incident. Hick doesn’t react to the entire incident. He merely packs up his briefcase and heads to the door with Mark in tow. I notice Zaid walking across the street several yards behind us.
“Why does he want to apologize to me, Abri? I don’t care. It’s over. And what important news could he have that would make it any different?” Sarah exclaims, still worked up, as we march down the sidewalk into the bitter January wind.
“I don’t know,” I lie. “I don’t think you should talk to him though. I know he can’t come to the apartment, but he may try to call you or wait outside for you. If he does, go back inside and call the cops.” I want to tell her to watch out for a guy named Serge too, but that will just open too many doors that I can’t shut again.
Max has been decidedly quiet through all of this. I cannot wait to get back to the office with him and discuss it. Sarah shivers in her coat as we stand on the curb outside the garage where I’ve left the Evora. Zaid must still be lurking nearby but I can’t see him. “You need to get out of this cold, girl,” I chide to Sarah.
“I know. I was going to walk back to the gallery, it’s only six blocks, but it’s colder than I expected. I think I’ll catch a cab. You want to share?” she asks us.
“Ah, I just remembered I have to pick up something from the clerk’s office, you go ahead,” I lie again. There is no way I can explain having a car, Lucan’s car, to her.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon,” she says cheerfully as she hails a nearby cab. He screeches to a stop just beyond us, obviously expecting a hefty fare uptown from a well-dressed woman. “Bye!” she smiles as she closes the door.
“Fancy a ride back to the office?” I grin at Max once she’s gone.
CHAPTER FORTY
Mark tossed the card key down on the bed and let the door slam shut. He called out for Serge but there was no response. Good. He was happy to have the place to himself after this morning’s court fiasco. He wasn’t upset about the Court’s ruling; Sarah deserves to be taken care of. He was more upset about not being able to talk to her; to tell her what was wrong with him, especially since her attorney could confirm it all. Of course, he was sure that Abri Cole hadn’t told Sarah the intimate details of her dating life, even if they were friends.
Mark stripped down and headed for the shower. The warm water felt good on his stressed muscles and cleared his head almost as much as a nice rare steak would have. There was so much he wanted to say to Sarah after the hearing, but her attorney had pleaded with him not to, if only with her eyes, so he hadn’t. Pussy.
After getting dressed again, Mark sat down at the small writing desk in the corner of the room. He searched the drawers for the complimentary stationary that would almost certainly be there. He thought it funny that in this electronic age that hotels still spent the money to stock stationary for the desks. Free Wi-Fi he could understand, but not embossed bond with a scrolly hotel monogram. However, he was glad on this occasion to find what he was looking for in the top drawer along with a standard issue Bic pen. He was also glad he had regained enough mental clarity to have this droll conversation with himself concerning the stationary. If he couldn’t talk to Sarah, maybe he could write her. Tapping the end of the pen on his extended fang, he thought of what he wanted to say.
Soon, the words started to flow with a clarity he’d seldom seen in these last months. He told Sarah everything: about the bar, Serge, the fight, the change into what he was, the need for blood and food. Okay, well, he thought about that last one and decided against it least he totally disgust her. Satisfied with his draft he ended it with one final thought: If you don’t believe me, ask your lawyer. She knows.
So maybe it was a cheap shot, but it guaranteed results if Sarah actually read it. He’d seen the worry in Abri Cole’s face this morning. She didn’t want to have to confirm anything to Sarah, but she would for Sarah’s own safety if the issue was pushed. Mark was sure of that.
The problem now was how to get the letter to her. He could have it couriered over or he could just mail it the old-fashioned way. That was probably the best idea but he needed a stamp. Surely, they did not stock those in with the stationary, he thought. Checking the drawer, he was again surprised. There was an envelope with a stamp on it under the remaining stationary. This was the most serendipitous thing that had happened to him in months, maybe even years. Mark took it as a sign he was doing the right thing.
Before he could change his mind, he folded the letter in thirds and stuffed it in the waiting envelope, sealing it with a quick swipe of his tongue. He penned Sarah’s address on the front and propped it up against the desk lamp. Mark let out an extended sigh as he leaned back in the chair. The card reader on the door clicked just as he was feeling relaxed. Serge was back.
Quickly and quietly, Mark ran to the terrace doors and slipped out. Unfortunately, his Halfling status—or even full vampire status for all he knew—did not afford him the ability to fly or jump from building to building like Superman so he was stuck. Carefully, he peered through a gap in the drapes that covered the terrace windows. Undoubtedly, Serge could smell him from inside so staying hidden was probably a moot point. He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom and a radio playing. With Serge in the shower, Mark had a valid chance at escape.
Mark opened the door again, judging the distance between himself and the hall door. He was in no mood to talk with Serge about his court appearance this morning or Abri Cole. It had taken ho
urs of convincing to keep Serge from joining him in court this morning. He’d finally won with the rationalization that Abri Cole knew who he was and would call for his arrest after his failed attack on her. Lucky for everyone self-preservation overtook Serge’s desire.
Sarah’s lawyer was nice enough but Mark wasn’t interested in her physically, and he sure as hell didn’t care about the fact she was dating a vampire. From where he was sitting that fact was not something to brag about. Nor did he care that Serge wanted her for his own. Well, okay, so that was a lie. He did care, but only because she was Sarah’s friend and he knew that if Serge got a hold of her he was going to kill her, not date her. Sarah didn’t need to suffer that kind of loss.
Mark briefly considered the thought that without a lawyer Sarah couldn’t continue with the divorce. No, she’d just find another lawyer. Bottom line, it was time Mark rid himself of Serge and fought to get Sarah back.
The water shut off and the bathroom door swung opened. Mark froze. The thick curtains sucked against his body as the wind on the terrace pulled them outside, doing nothing to conceal his form. For fucksake, it was his room, why was he sneaking around like an idiot. Serge was only staying here because Mark let him. He gathered his courage, stepped around the curtains, and shut the terrace door. The warmth of the room did nothing to thaw his anger as he marched towards the bathroom. Just as he was about let loose on Serge, a short, plump Hispanic woman in a maid’s outfit crossed in front of the open door.
“Oh shit, I'm sorry,” Mark yelped as he moved back from the woman nearly tripping over her supply cart. That explained the radio; it was perched on top of a pile of clean towels. He’d completely missed it sitting in the middle of the room before.
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