This Case Is Gonna Kill Me

by Phillipa Bornikova

  David had forgotten to breathe. His mouth moved, but no words emerged. He realized he had no air to power sound. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Change,” in a voice that cracked like thunder.

  The wolf’s response was to snap his jaws just in front of David’s face. The vampire reacted quickly, thrusting Deegan back a few inches to preserve his nose. David drove his knee one last time into Deegan’s crotch, then brought his hand down and grabbed his junk.

  “I swear I’ll make you a eunuch. Now change!”

  And he did. David laid Deegan down on his back on the grass, human, naked, bloody, and groaning, his hands cradling his crotch.

  That’s when New York’s Finest arrived. I wanted to tell John that his cop buddies sure timed that well. Then I remembered, John is lost. Everything washed over me, and I burst into tears.

  24

  One week later I stood in a Manhattan courtroom with Syd Finkelstein, his severely shortened right arm swathed in a bulky bandage, and our clients.

  I hadn’t intended to be there, but Syd, Chastity, and Destiny insisted, saying that none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for me. Since that was undoubtedly true, I had agreed to be listed as co-counsel.

  That meant I had to contact the Abercrombie brood and request a conflict waiver. Since I’d represented them initially, I couldn’t now represent the Jenkins women without the Abercrombies’ express approval. Naturally Marlene was completely opposed, and she seemed on the verge of reopening the entire case until I pointed out that if she did they might lose the twenty million. That got everyone’s head right.

  Judge Mandel’s nasal and rather high-pitched voice brought me back to my surroundings. He accepted as authentic the last will and testament of Henry Lee Abercrombie and introduced it for probate. He pulled down his glasses and peered over the top, scanning the courtroom, which was filled with press, Syd’s family, and, to my shock, Gold.

  “Is a Miss Chastity Jenkins present?”

  “She is, Your Honor,” I said, while at the same time Syd said, “Yep.”

  “Do you understand you have been appointed as the executor of this will?”

  “Yes, sir,” Chastity said in a small voice.

  “And do you understand that you and your daughter…” He pushed his glasses back up and read from the papers in front of him. “… Destiny Lee Jenkins are jointed beneficiaries of this will?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then let’s get ’er done and off my docket. You’re very lucky women,” he concluded, then banged down the gavel. A scrum of journalists surged toward the mother and daughter. I slipped away while Syd, who seemed at least an inch taller, helped field questions.

  Gold was waiting for me just outside the courtroom doors. He took my briefcase (I had abandoned the roller bag for a sleek underarm portfolio), linked his arm through mine, and tried to walk me away. I held my position.

  “I’m not infirm,” I said. “And it’s not 1850.” He gave me an exasperated look and handed back my briefcase. His frown no longer had the power to intimidate me, and that felt good. I gave him a bright little smile. “Thank you.”

  “So, another financial win for the firm. Abercrombie has been very good for you. But I do hope your future cases will be more … staid,” Gold said.

  Outrage stopped me dead in my tracks. “What a terrible thing to say, and no, it hasn’t been good for me. Chip is dead. A lot of people who shouldn’t be dead are dead, and John is trapped. Money can’t make up for everything we’ve lost.”

  It was as if his skin had become ice as he reacted to my disrespectful tone. Watch it, he could fire you, the cautious Linnet whispered in the recesses of my brain. Then I discovered that the Linnet who lived front and center didn’t give a shit. I noticed a man in a wheelchair waiting by the far wall. It was Jolly.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I see one of my clients. I need to speak with him.” I walked away.

  I couldn’t swear to it, but I thought I heard Gold say very quietly, “Congratulations, Ms. Ellery.”

  I reached Jolly’s side. “You could have come over.”

  “I didn’t wish to disturb,” he said. He opened the briefcase that he had tucked next to him in the chair and pulled out an envelope. “I received this today.”

  He extracted a sheet of paper. The letterhead read City of Brooklyn. I read quickly through the letter. Your analysis … correct … property shall remain an equine facility …

  When I’d finished, I looked up to find him smiling at me. “They agreed with you. Thank you. I get to keep my barn.”

  “You’re welcome, but this one was easy.”

  He began to push his chair toward an exit. I walked with him. “Unlike your last one. The reports in the papers were frankly terrifying,” he said.

  “It was not fun,” I admitted.

  “But you won,” he said.

  “Yeah, mostly because I’m too stubborn to know when to quit.” Jolly looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head. “I know I sort of ran out on you, but do I still get to ride Vento?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Of course.”

  I sagged with relief. “May I come today?”

  “Both he and I would be delighted.”

  We stepped through the broad brass doors and onto the portico of the courthouse. A summer storm was snarling through heavy gray clouds and setting the flags in front of the building to snapping. The air smelled of rain and ozone. We both looked up at the rapidly approaching clouds.

  “Thank God for that indoor arena, eh?” Jolly asked. “Well, I’m going to roll for a taxi.” He headed off toward the retrofitted concrete ramps and went whizzing down toward the sidewalk.

  A few fat drops spattered on the granite steps, and a few splashed against my scalp. I ran behind him for the taxi stand.

  * * *

  Norma beat a tattoo on her steno pad with the end of her pen. “A lot of people have been calling for appointments.” She had thrust several pencils into the teased and sprayed hair helmet and obviously forgotten about them, so now she looked like an odd occidental geisha.

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” I said. I stood beside her desk riffling through the pink telephone message slips.

  “I guess this proves there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Norma sniffed.

  “Hey!”

  There was a whisper of sound like surf washing onto a beach. It flowed across the commons area, and I realized it was indrawn breaths and faint gasps. It was followed by silence broken only by footsteps on the slate tile. I looked over my shoulder.

  Ryan Winchester walked through, head high, eyes straight ahead, carrying a box. I could just make out the tops of frames over the edge of the box. Assistants backed out of his way. He was heading for my old office. His eyes fell on me, and it felt like acid had bathed my skin. The only other time I had experienced such a hate-filled gaze was when Deegan had been taken away by the police with a shock collar clasped around his throat to prevent transformation.

  I rushed to David’s office. It was empty, stripped of diplomas, honors, and pictures. The top of the desk loomed like a desert. I raced back out and went charging up the stairs to the seventy-third floor.

  The awful Bruce looked up as I came slamming through the stairwell door. “Hey, is David Sullivan up here?”

  Bruce sniffed and made a show of looking down at his phone list.

  “He is,” came David’s voice. It fairly throbbed with pride and excitement. I turned. He stood in the doorway leading to the private offices. “Want to tell me where to hang my art?”

  * * *

  That evening, I begged off from a dinner with Ray and Gregory. Instead I stopped at a little local produce stand and picked up fresh tomatoes, basil, onion, garlic, and oregano. Next I hit the small Italian market for a bottle of red wine, pasta, mozzarella, capers, and olives. It was a warm early September evening, and spaghetti con pomodoro crudo sounded like the thing.

&
nbsp; When I came through the door lugging my purchases, Gadzooks threatened to send me ass over teakettle as he twined through my legs, mewing piteously. I had used a combination of helpless charm and bullshit on the super at John’s building until he let me in. Then I whisked the cat away. For the moment I was paying the rent on John’s apartment too, but since it was rent controlled and I’d gotten a nice raise at work it wasn’t a big hardship. If his absence went on for too long, I’d consider putting his things in storage. Hopefully that wasn’t going to happen.

  The cork emerged with a satisfying little pop, and dark ruby liquid washed the sides of the wineglass. While I chopped the tomatoes and herbs and waited for the water to boil, I sipped wine and visited with the family who had called to offer their congratulations.

  “Not that I particularly like Gold, but I have to agree with him on one thing,” I told my dad. “I really, really, really hope my future cases aren’t this exciting. I nearly got killed two … three … well, a bunch of times.”

  “But you didn’t. And you made a lot of money for the firm and brought them a lot of attention,” he soothed.

  “Yeah, not exactly what vampires like. They’re more behind-the-scenes types.”

  “The world is changing, Linnie,” he said, and I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that.

  I ate dinner on a TV tray and watched an episode of The Forsyte Saga. It proved to be a bad choice because I hit the point where Bosinney gets killed. It took a long time before I stopped dripping tears into the remnants of my pasta. I finally cleared away my plate and kept refilling my glass as I paced the confines of my apartment. Sleep was elusive.

  At 1:30 I finally felt tired enough to go to bed. ’Zooks, purring like a diesel engine, crawled in with me and demanded a position against my belly and under the covers. I fell asleep to his warm rumble.

  I dreamed I was dancing with John. He was telling me something, but I never fully caught the words. I knew it was important, and the lack of understanding made me cry with frustration. Then he seemed to be pulling away down a long tunnel of alternating gold and darkness.

  Gray dawn light was limning the edges of the windows in my bedroom. I sat up and clawed my hair out of my eyes. There was a sweet smell like jasmine and orange blossoms in my room. I looked down at the foot of the bed and froze at the sight of a small branch covered in white and yellow flowers lying on the folded spread.

  The bark was cool against my hand as I swept it up and buried my face in the blossoms. ’Zooks bumped his head against my arm and purred and twerted. I hugged him close.

  “Your daddy was here,” I whispered.

  I scrubbed away the tears and threw back the covers. I couldn’t storm Fairy like some heroine in a fantasy novel. But there was another lady with a sword who might be able to help me. My friend had been essentially kidnapped. However odd the Álfar reality was, it existed within the geographical confines of the State of New York in the United States of America. Our laws had to have jurisdiction and take precedent.

  I was a lawyer. I was going to establish just that and bring John home.

  About the Author

  Phillipa Bornikova has been the story editor of a major network television series, a horse trainer, and an oil-company executive. She lives in the Southwest. This is her first novel.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THIS CASE IS GONNA KILL ME

  Copyright © 2012 by Melinda Snodgrass

  All rights reserved.

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Bornikova, Phillipa.

  This case is gonna kill me / Phillipa Bornikova.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

  ISBN 978-0-7653-3389-6 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-0-7653-2682-9 (trade paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-4299-7791-3 (e-book)

  I. Title.

  PS3602.O765T48 2012

  813'.6—dc23

  2012011473

  e-ISBN 9781429977913

  First Edition: September 2012