Lone Survivor: The Sorcerers' Scourge Series: Book One

by Michael Arches

  “Give me a couple of minutes. If I can’t help him, you can take him to town as soon as Diana or Tess is available.”

  He nodded.

  I examined the wound. It was about two inches long, just below the Lab’s shoulder. In one spot, I could see his blood-streaked bone. When I touched the Lab anywhere near the cut, he flinched.

  I closed my eyes for a moment to center my mind. According to Maggie and Tess, that was a step I couldn’t rush.

  Then I turned my attention back to the dog. He panted and wagged his tail as I sat on the floor next to him. Closing my eyes again, I recalled Lake Isabelle. It had inspired me before, and I focused on my memory of the twisted fir tree.

  This time, my magical core appeared in the center of my mind, pulsing with excitement. After a few seconds, I saw a clear picture of myself.

  Surprised, I blinked my eyes open. The dog was staring at me. Somehow, my mind and the Lab’s had joined. My empathic ability with animals was improving.

  Again, I closed my eyes. When I put my right hand on his shoulder above the cut, I felt his pain. On a whim, I said a prayer: Blessed Jesus, please take away his suffering.

  Immediately, the dog’s pain flowed into me, throbbing at my shoulder and burning me. But, seconds later, the aching and stinging vanished.

  The dog relaxed and stopped whining.

  With every bit of my willpower, I focused my magical core on the dog’s shoulder and whispered, “Please close this cut and heal the wound.” My hand tingled, and the gash slowly closed from the bottom to the top.

  Gary gasped as it happened. “I can’t believe it. Fighters can’t heal.”

  It was like Jesus was sitting next to me, or Wakonda, the Great Mystery Spirit, and His invisible hand had pulled a zipper up to close the gash.

  The dog relaxed and began to breathe steadily instead of panting.

  Soon, the cut had closed completely. The Holy Spirit didn’t even leave a scar. The only evidence that the wound had existed was the blood on the dog’s leg and the floor. I took a deep in relief, one that was full of the scent of catnip.

  Sitting on the dairy’s cold, rough cement floor, I became dizzy. Then peace descended over me. My smile grew so wide that my face ached.

  When I came back to my senses, Gary had vanished. The dog licked my face as though we were long-lost friends.

  -o-o-o-

  I ATE LUNCH IN the dining room with Laura and a group of others, but I kept what had happened to myself. I simply enjoyed the lingering calmness.

  But that feeling ended when I got a call from someone I wanted to talk with even less than Diana.

  After barely a “hello,” Detective Hernandez said, “Mr. O’Rourke, I’m at the county courthouse. We’re arraigning the two men in the truck that hit you, but only for open container violations. We had to cut a deal because, without credible testimony from you, we’ve basically got no case for assault and battery.”

  As far as I could tell, things were working out the way Diana had wanted. Both men would presumably soon be free to live out their enslavement at the ranch.

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Not so fast,” the cop said. “Judge Eastwood was furious at the assistant district attorney for letting them off so easily. I told the judge what you told me. Now, His Honor is furious at you—he thinks you’ve been bought off. He’s ordered you to appear in his courtroom at four.”

  I gasped. A judge knew what I’d said about the accident, and he thought I’d been bribed? This was getting way out of hand. “Listen, you should talk to Diana.”

  “Tell the judge,” Hernandez said. Then he gave me directions to the courthouse. “Don’t be late, or the Morgan County sheriff won’t be the only one looking for you.”

  After the detective hung up, I sat there stunned. A judge thought I’d committed perjury? I had, but not in the way the judge believed. And I hadn’t been paid off. My pulse raced in my ears.

  Laura asked, “What’s wrong now?”

  I told her.

  She groaned. “I can’t believe this. We need to inform Diana right away. She’ll figure something out.”

  Not having much choice, I said, “All right.”

  I listened to Laura’s call with Diana, and my stomach churned. Our Supreme Leader already hated me. She might still decide to end my stay at the ranch early.

  Then Laura said, “I agree, he needs a damned good lawyer.”

  After she hung up, I said, “Do I really need a lawyer? I don’t have much money.”

  Laura shook a finger at me. “Diana wants you to have one, so you will. She’ll take care of the bill. And, by the way, she’s incredibly pissed about all the trouble you cause—just a heads-up.”

  Great. The last thing I needed was another powerful enemy, but I’d managed to piss off a judge and a queen at the same time.

  -o-o-o-

  DIANA TOOK ME TO town, but she only said, “Do exactly what Nicky tells you. No more and no less.”

  My new attorney turned out to be a middle-aged man with long salt-and-pepper hair. After he greeted us in his reception area, he said to Diana, “Always a pleasure.”

  He seemed like a nice guy, but his eyes were bloodshot. Instead of a suit, he was wearing a tattered jogging outfit and sneakers. His left hand cradled a large mug of coffee, and he offered his free hand to shake. Not an imposing presence, to say the least.

  Then his smile blazed. “I’m Nicky Delacourt. Welcome.”

  A tiny flicker of hope took hold deep inside me. Maybe all was not lost yet.

  After quick introductions, Nicky led Diana and me to his huge office. His walnut desk was covered with stacks of papers. He’d hung his law degree from Northwestern University in the center of the wall behind his chair. The rest of that wall was covered with dozens of photographs showing Nicky and people I guessed were his clients, all beaming at their lawyer like he was the second coming of the Lord.

  The only person I recognized in that bunch was Colorado’s governor. Last summer, the Oklahoma papers had been filled with coverage of the man’s love child scandal. The mother was a prominent drug company lobbyist who’d been accused of bribing the governor with sex and opiates.

  The case seemed to show politics at its worst, but the governor had been acquitted and still had his job. Maybe Nicky was the real deal.

  He looked at me with a bemused smile. “So, you’re the next clan fighter? I expected you’d have lightning bolts coming out of your ears.” He threw his head back and roared. “Actually, I expected you to look like a younger Diana.”

  I had no idea what to make of that, so I stayed quiet. She didn’t laugh either.

  “You definitely have a fighter’s nose,” Nicky continued.

  So, what else was new? “My parents couldn’t afford plastic surgery to fix it.”

  Nicky’s door flew open, and a stern-faced, thirty-something woman with frizzy blonde hair strode in. “God damn you to hell—” She froze and then looked at me and Diana. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”

  Nicky looked tired and ragged, but this woman appeared to be on the edge of falling unconscious.

  “Felicity,” Nicky said in a soothing voice. “I apologize. An emergency has arisen that supersedes our other emergency. I have to deal with this before I can return to trial prep.”

  He introduced us to his partner, Felicity Laurent.

  She teetered. Nicky rushed over to her and steadied her. “This will take less than two hours, I promise,” he told her. “I’ll get you the opening by six and my draft of Thompson’s cross-exam by eight. Go get a few hours of sleep. You’re all done in.”

  Felicity’s eyes closed for a minute and then she started back awake. After a nod, she left.

  “Oh, damn, we came at a terrible time,” I said. I was about to add we can handle this ourselves, I’m sure, but I couldn’t utter the words. It would give Nicky an easy excuse to abandon me, and I was in deep shit.

&
nbsp; Diana must’ve been thinking the same. “Sorry, Nicky.” She stared at me with her hardened, steel-gray eyes. “But we need you. This has all the makings of a fucking catastrophe.”

  Nicky sighed at the door Felicity had just closed. “I agree. Give me the longer version of your troubles.”

  -o-o-o-

  A HALF-HOUR LATER, I walked out of Nicky’s office feeling much better. The guy had been blessed with the same gift for the gab that all the great liars possessed. If anything, Nicky was even better than Colorado’s governor at making the crazy stuff sound rational.

  On the downside, he’d confessed that he’d had many unhappy run-ins with Judge Eastwood, which made me wonder, how had a lunatic like that gotten appointed to the bench?

  Diana drove me to the hearing, and Nicky promised to arrive soon. I tried to pass the time with small talk, but Diana wasn’t the chatty type, so I settled for wondering how my life had gotten so weird so fast.

  When we arrived at the judge’s courtroom, Diana and I sat together in the gallery. No lawyer yet.

  Right before four, Nicky strode in. Now, instead of wearing ratty gym clothes, he was dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, a brilliantly white shirt, and a pink tie. After a quick wave at me, he headed to the table where the bald former sorcerer and his lawyer were sitting in front of the gallery. They talked briefly, and then Nicky walked over to the other table. He shook hands with the woman who was sitting there with Detective Hernandez.

  A judge opened the door behind the bench.

  “All rise,” the clerk said.

  We did.

  The judge took his seat and pounded his gavel. “This hearing will come to order.”

  He was tall and thin and wore a frown on his wrinkled, liver-spotted face. “Is Mr. O’Rourke here?”

  Nicky stood alone between the two tables. “Yes, Your Honor. Nicholas Delacourt, Esquire, representing Mr. Ian O’Rourke.”

  Judge Eastwood’s frown deepened. “Don’t you have a death penalty case starting in a few days, counselor?”

  “Of course, but we’re ready. I thought I’d while away a few hours helping a young gentleman in distress.” Nicky’s eyes might’ve been red and his face haggard, but his voice was full of energy.

  “What a thrill it is to see you again, Delacourt. If he hasn’t done anything wrong, why does he need such a fancy, over-priced lawyer?”

  “He is a vision of innocence, Your Honor, but I’ve heard a rumor that Your Honor might be concerned about possible bribery. That’s always a serious business. Shall we get on with it?”

  The judge nodded at his clerk.

  “Ian O’Rourke,” the clerk said, “take the witness stand.” After he had sworn me in, he handed me several sheets of paper.

  It was a notarized affidavit that Detective Hernandez had signed.

  “Read the document to yourself,” the judge said. “When you’re finished, let me know.”

  While I read, Nicky reviewed a second copy of the document. I studied it carefully and then nodded at Nicky.

  “Ready, Your Honor,” he said.

  “Mr. O’Rourke, did the detective faithfully record your statement?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You claim the defendant did not attack you?”

  “Correct, Your Honor.”

  “Do you realize that this defendant has been convicted of assault and battery twice before?” The judge’s voice was filled with scorn. “That he and his companion almost killed you?”

  “Your Honor—” Nicky began, but the judge held up a hand to stop him.

  “I’m sorry, judge,” I said. “The situation was chaotic, but I’ve told the truth.”

  The judge whacked a pen against his bench several times before he seemed to catch himself. “The blood pattern inside the truck’s cab is completely inconsistent with your testimony that the defendant was injured before he left the truck. There’s only one credible explanation for your story. The defendant must’ve offered you a large amount of money to lie.”

  “Your Honor!” Nicky exclaimed. “That’s an outrageous allegation.”

  Judge Eastwood acted as though Nicky hadn’t spoken. “O’Rourke, I’m sorely tempted to hold you in contempt right now.”

  I fought back the tears welling up in my eyes and the tightness in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. I was about to go to jail.

  When I tuned back in to the judge’s comments, he said, “Telling stories may be real popular at Diana’s ranch, but not in my courtroom.”

  “Would you happen to have any actual evidence of perjury?” Nicky asked.

  Judge Eastwood paused for a moment. “Mr. O’Rourke, did you know the defendant or have any contact with him before the accident?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you speak to him or the other man in the truck at any time?”

  “No.”

  “Have you spoken to anyone representing either of them at any time?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Again, the judge paused. “Do you realize that, right now, the police are poring over your phone records and Internet activity? They’re reviewing your financial records, combing through every snippet of your life, looking for some evidence that you’ve been paid to tell this preposterous story.”

  This situation was going from bad to worse, but I didn’t lose my focus.

  Nicky gave me a confident smile. The man obviously had no clue about how much trouble I was in.

  To the judge, I said, “Look all you want. I’ve done nothing wrong. I was simply driving along the river to enjoy the wonderful scenery.”

  The judge turned to the woman sitting next to the detective. “Ms. Winters, what’s this I hear about an Oklahoma warrant for O’Rourke?”

  The woman stood. “Morgan County has issued an arrest warrant. He’s wanted for violations of Oklahoma’s anti-magic statute.”

  “Your Honor,” Nicky said, “I can speak to those baseless charges against my client. Mr. O’Rourke recently came here to visit an old friend of the family who lives in Colorado, not to avoid prosecution.”

  “How convenient,” the judge said. He turned to me. “How long before the authorities in Oklahoma issued their warrant had you been planning to come to our fair city?”

  I felt my breath catch in my throat as I remembered the murders of my family and my crazy flight from the cops.

  “Ian’s father had been planning the trip for some months,” Nicky said. “He’d already arranged to stay with his mother’s childhood friend, who now lives in Nederland. Once again, it appears the Good Lord has intervened in the affairs of men, this time to prevent a gross miscarriage of justice against my client.”

  “The law is the law,” the judge intoned. “You don’t get to pick the parts you want to obey.”

  “The underlying anti-magic charges are ridiculous, Your Honor,” Nicky fired back. “The Oklahoma warrant does not specify any specific illegal practices by Mr. Ian O’Rourke, and whatever charges were asserted against his father are now moot. The ACLU is fighting the warrant in Oklahoma as an obvious infringement on the freedom of religion clauses in the U.S., Oklahoma, and Colorado Constitutions. If this court is seriously contemplating—”

  The judge held up his hand to stop Nicky. “The news channels are reporting that Mr. O’Rourke is also wanted for arson and murder.”

  “More ridiculous claims, Your Honor. The warrant that was actually issued doesn’t mention either arson or murder.”

  Judge Eastwood pointed at the prosecutor. “What say you?”

  Ms. Winters stood. “I’ve contacted the Morgan County district attorney, and he’s asked us to hold Mr. O’Rourke pending submission of a formal extradition request for only the witchcraft charge.”

  “Then, why haven’t the police arrested him?” the judge asked with unconcealed exasperation.

  Ms. Winters took a half-step back. “Given the extremely controversial natu
re of the underlying charge and the fact that Mr. O’Rourke’s alleged performance of witchcraft is perfectly legal in Colorado, the Boulder County district attorney and the Boulder County sheriff have not decided whether to honor Morgan County’s warrant. We will reevaluate if and when we receive the formal extradition request.”

  The judge lifted his hands, palms up. “And by the time these public officials get around to making their decision, Mr. O’Rourke will be on the run again. The man obviously has no ties to this state. Do we need to take a brief recess while you ask the district attorney why Mr. O’Rourke remains at large?”

  Ms. Winters nodded and reached for her purse. Then she pulled out a phone. “Thank you for the recess. I’ll call right now.”

  She stepped out of the courtroom, but the judge remained on the bench.

  Chapter 11

  WHILE WE WAITED, NICKY approached me and whispered, “Would you be willing to promise to stay in Boulder County until this crazy business gets worked out? If we make the DA and the cops rush their decision, they might do something stupid.”

  “You want to offer that as a way to keep me out of jail?” I replied. “What about my video?”

  He nodded and bent closer. “Let’s keep the video secret as long as possible. It’s dynamite, and we want to use it for maximum effect. As things stand now, the judge could hold you for a couple of days on the contempt charge. It would take me that long to go over his head—even if the DA decides against enforcing the warrant. It would be much simpler to agree to bail.”

  “Okay, I’ll promise to stay.”

  At that moment, Ms. Winters returned to the courtroom.

  Before she could speak, Nicky said in a loud voice. “Your Honor, in order to avoid a rush to judgment”—he glanced at Ms. Winters—“and to avoid a potentially highly embarrassing faux pas by the district attorney or local law enforcement, Mr. O’Rourke is willing to remain in Boulder County and to sign a personal recognizance bond promising to reappear at a subsequent hearing on the supposedly imminent extradition request.”

  Ms. Winters nodded. “The people would accept such a bond.”

  The judge shook his head. “Not so fast. He’s apparently skipped out once. At a minimum, Mr. O’Rourke needs to post substantial bail.”