Unleashed by the Defender: A Kindred Tales Novel

by Anderson, Evangeline

  “Wait!” Imani exclaimed. Things were spinning out of control so quickly! Her client was about to be sentenced and executed and she hadn’t even had a chance to defend him yet! “Wait, please, your Honor!” she said again. “I…I haven’t even had my turn to speak yet.”

  “All right then—is the Prosecution finished?” Judge Thoughtgood looked at the green-haired lawyer, who nodded.

  “Yes, your honor. The Prosecution rests.”

  “Very well. You may speak,” the judge said to Imani. “Now what can you possibly have to say that will change my mind about putting down a rabid animal who would kill a poor, innocent Mistress who took him in and gave him a home?”

  Poor innocent Mistress my ass! She was probably using a pain collar on him and torturing him just because he wouldn’t obey her every whim! Imani thought indignantly.

  But of course, this was Yonnie Six where males were second class citizens—actually, not even citizens at all. They were treated like pets and like a pet that has gone crazy and hurt someone, her client was about to be put down. Unless she could say or do or show something to prove his innocence, he was going to die before she ever even got to meet him!

  Frantically, she scrambled among the papers on the long table in front of her—she hadn’t even had a chance to read them yet! She—

  Then her hand fell on the tiny, fingernail-sized drive the Kindred operative had given her. Picking it up, Imani realized it was her only chance.

  “Your honor,” she said, holding out the drive. “I would like to submit this drive into evidence and ask the court to examine its contents thoroughly.”

  “Objection! The Defender can’t just offer new evidence without giving us a chance to examine it,” the green-haired Prosecutor exclaimed.

  “Normally, she could not. However, my curiosity is piqued,” Judge Thoughtgood remarked. “Let’s all examine it together—shall we? Bailiff, set up a screen, please.”

  In short order, the female bailiff positioned a large screen at the front of the courtroom which was hooked to a smaller one set up on the judge’s desk.

  Her throat dry with anxiety, Imani watched as the tiny drive was plugged in and the blank screen came to life. What was she going to see? Was the evidence—whatever it was—really enough to keep J’are from being executed?

  She supposed she and everyone else in the courtroom was about to find out.

  Seven

  At first the screen was black. Then it resolved into a single image of a room—a room filled with cages. Strong, metal structures that looked big enough to house an extra-large dog, Imani thought. All of the cages were empty—all except one.

  In that cage—at the far end of the room—a sleeping figure lay curled on his side. It was a large, muscular Kindred and his face was slack with sleep—a sleep so deep it didn’t’ seem natural to Imani. Was that her client? Could he have been drugged?

  He certainly wasn’t moving or twitching at all, as many people did in their sleep. He was completely inert, his long black hair hiding his eyes, his mouth slightly parted in slumber. There was a thick black pain collar around his throat and a chain attached to it led to the end of his cage.

  “All right, we see it—this is clearly your client asleep in Lady Zangelo’s kennel,” Judge Thoughtgood remarked. “But what is this supposed to tell us, Councilor?”

  At first Imani didn’t know how to answer. Then she saw the time stamp at the bottom of the screen. Tebrulary the thirty-third at midnight.

  “Look, your honor,” she said excitedly. “That’s the date and time of the murder! What this evidence shows is that my client clearly could not have committed this crime since he was chained up and fast asleep in his, er, cage at the time.”

  “Then how did he get the victim’s blood all over his face and hands?” Judge Thoughtgood asked, frowning.

  As if in answer to her question, the lights in the room suddenly dimmed. Then a shadowy figure entered the room and crept towards the cage with the sleeping Kindred. The figure was covered in a hooded robe, so the face was impossible to see, but what it did next was obvious.

  The shadowy figure in the robe unlocked the Kindred’s cage and reached inside. Quickly but thoroughly, its hand swiped over the Kindred’s mouth, hands, and broad, bare chest. The figure also left some smears on the metal cage and the floor in front of it.

  Even in the dim room, it was clear to see what had been left behind—blood.

  As soon as the sleeping—or drugged—Kindred was thoroughly smeared with crimson, the figure unhooked the chain from his collar. Then it glided away, leaving the cage door standing open.

  After that, the vid images ended and the screen went blank.

  Imani drew a deep breath. Thank goodness for the Kindred operative who had found this footage and given it to her! Without it, her client would surely have died. Now, he would live. There was no way the judge could ignore such blatant evidence that J’are had been framed. No way she could sentence him to death now.

  “Your honor,” she said, rising as the Bailiff wheeled the screen away. “I think this evidence speaks for itself. I would ask that all charges be dropped and that my client be released.”

  “I’m afraid not, Councilor,” Judge Thoughtgood said dryly. “Though it is clear that your client was framed for the murder of Lady Zangelo, it is the position of this court that he should still be put to death.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Imani exclaimed, jumping up. “Is this because he killed some other inmates? He was probably just protecting himself!”

  “All the same.” Judge Thoughtgood frowned. “I’m afraid he can’t be allowed back into our society—or any society for that matter. He is simply too dangerous.”

  “But why?” Imani demanded. “I demand to see my client, your Honor! This instant!”

  “Very well, Councilor.” The judge looked like she didn’t much care one way or another. “Bailiff,” she said and made a motion. “Please have the guards bring in Councilor Williams’ client so that she can see why death is the only option for him.”

  Eight

  Imani waited, her heart in her mouth, as the female bailiff left the courtroom. What in the world was she about to see? How could the judge decide to execute her client after the evidence she’d presented clearly exonerated him? What—?

  Her thoughts were cut off when the heavy wooden doors of the courtroom banged open and four Horvath guards entered. The lizard-like humanoids had green, scaly skin and long forked tongues. They were often used by the Yonnites as prison guards or for other dirty, menial jobs the wealthy Mistresses who ruled the planet wanted nothing to do with.

  Between the four of them was a huge figure but he was struggling so hard Imani couldn’t get a good look at him. Each of the Horvaths—all pretty big themselves—had a chain in his hands and all four of the chains were hooked to the slave in some way. Yet still he fought so hard they could barely contain him.

  “Guards!” Judge Thoughtgood said sharply. “Control that prisoner!”

  “We are trying, your honor!” hissed one of the Horvaths. “But he isss very ssstrong.”

  At last the four guards and their prisoner reached the front of the courtroom. They hooked the ends of their long chains to bolts in the floor Imani hadn’t noticed earlier and then stood back.

  What she saw when the prisoner finally held still, took her breath away.

  He was huge and muscular of course—what Kindred wasn’t? But his size and apparent strength weren’t what made Imani catch her breath.

  His long hair had been shorn to stubble atop his head and his skin was covered in some kind of shiny black substance. Was it tar? Paint? Imani couldn’t tell, but it covered every inch of his face, arms, chest, back and torso.

  And out of the shiny black paint stared his eyes. Pale green eyes—the eyes of a cornered beast, trapped and ready to kill or die to get free.

  Eyes Imani had seen in her dreams.

  Nine

  “Well, Councilor—I
trust you can see why your client must be executed.”

  Judge Thoughtgood’s voice broke through the spell that had fallen over Imani when she looked into the pale green eyes of her client.

  “What?” she asked, looking away from J’are, who had stopped struggling, at least, and was simply crouching on the floor, growling menacingly like a cornered dog.

  “I said, I trust you can see why this Kindred must die,” the judge repeated impatiently. “He is a menace to our society—the moment he got loose, he would not hesitate to rip out any number of innocent throats.”

  Imani thought that there probably weren’t many of those, considering how the Yonnites lived. But she kept that thought to herself. Right now, she had to find a way to keep her client alive despite himself.

  “I must respectfully disagree, your honor,” she said, lifting her chin. “I believe my client is simply, er, upset but that he can be calmed down and taken safely out in public.”

  “Is that right?” Judge Thoughtgood’s blue eyebrows were almost up to her blue hairline. “And would you care to make the attempt of ‘calming him down’ yourself, Councilor?”

  Imani felt a quiver of fear in her stomach. She remembered Commander Sylvan telling her that Nightwalker Kindred were prone to going into a “feral state” and how he had warned her she must not allow her client to go into that state.

  But here he was, growling like an animal and clearly out of his mind. What had been done to him in the Yonnite correctional facility to force this reaction from him? And how in the world could she reverse it?

  Please, she thought. Oh please, I have to find a way to fix this—a way to bring him back and save him. What can I do?

  She took another look at the snarling, feral Kindred and a memory suddenly surfaced in her mind.

  Her best friend in high school, Kara, had been raised on a farm. When her mom and dad split up, Kara had moved to the city to live with her mom. But she spent holidays and breaks at her dad’s farm, riding horses and helping him with his favorite hobby—training and rehabilitating abused wolfdogs.

  A wolfdog was a crossbreed—a dog bred with a wolf in an attempt to marry the physical characteristics, strength, and stamina of the wolf with the tractable nature of a dog.

  It didn’t always work out.

  Imani remembered one particular wolf dog who had been rescued from a kill shelter. He had started out as a sweet puppy, the previous owner had claimed, but as he grew he became a menace. A huge, savage, untrainable animal that snapped at everyone and everything and growled menacingly whenever anyone approached him. Yet somehow Kara’s father had managed to quiet him in just a few minutes.

  Imani had been watching from a safe distance when he did it and afterwards she’d asked how in the world he had managed to get the savage wolfdog to calm down.

  “It’s all in your energy,” Kara’s father had replied obliquely. “Animals don’t react well to unstable energy. You have to be calm and have faith in yourself—absolute confidence. And the animal has to feel that you want what’s good for him—that you’re not just another asshole out to hurt him. He had to feel that you’re a good guy.”

  That’s me, Imari thought. I’m the good guy in this situation. I’m here to help. I just have to trust that I can make him understand that.

  Still, she would be taking an awful risk. Even though J’are hadn’t killed his Mistress, he had killed five other inmates in the Yonnite jail—so he was no stranger to violence. He might rip out her throat the minute she got near him. Then they would both be dead.

  But it was a chance she would have to take

  “Well, Councilor?” Judge Thoughtgood said, frowning. “I’m waiting. Can you demonstrate this savage beast is fit to take into public or not?”

  Imani stilled the panicky little voice in the back of her head shouting that she needed to run away as fast as possible and never come back.

  I just have to show no fear and have confidence in myself, she told herself firmly.

  Taking a deep breath, she began to walk towards the snarling Nightwalker, who was still crouched low on the floor, looking at her distrustfully. Remembering that the best way to introduce yourself to a new dog was to let them smell you, she put out a hand.

  “All right now,” she said softly but firmly. “All right now, boy—come on. It’s okay. It’s o—”

  But the words died in her throat when he suddenly shot up to his full height of almost seven feet. Looming over her, he bared his teeth and snarled—a low, menacing sound whose meaning couldn’t be clearer:

  Back off or you die!

  Imani caught her breath and put the hand she’d offered him to her pounding heart. He had fangs, she saw—but not like a Blood Kindred, who only had fangs in the upper jaw. No, J’are had fangs in both his upper and lower jaws.

  Teeth like a wolf, she thought. Or maybe like a panther.

  No wonder the Yonnites had assumed he had ripped his Mistress’s head off—he was certainly equipped to do it.

  Standing there in her bra and panties with an angry killer Kindred looming over her, Imani wanted desperately to run away.

  He was wearing a harness, she saw—thick leather straps which held his arms close to his body and manacled his hands in front of him. That and the pain collar around his neck with the chains linked to it were keeping him in place. He couldn’t get to her if she just took a few steps back.

  But I can’t do that—can’t back off, she thought desperately. If I do, they’ll kill him! I can’t let that happen. Oh please—I need to get through to him somehow!

  Suddenly she felt a warm presence all around her and a powerful feminine voice whispered in her ear, “Courage, daughter.”

  Imani took a deep breath. Could that be the Kindred Goddess? Her mentor had told her before she left the Mother Ship that the female deity was real and sometimes stepped in to help her children in times of need or danger. Was she with Imani now, watching over this situation?

  If you are watching, Goddess, I need you now! Imani thought as she looked up at the snarling, feral Kindred. With that shiny black stuff—whatever it was—all over his skin and those pale green eyes gleaming at her, he looked like something out of a nightmare. She had to find a way to tame him! Or at least calm him down and bring him back to himself.

  I’ve been treating him like a cornered dog, Imani thought. But he’s not a dog or a wolf—somewhere inside, he’s still a man. Well, a Kindred anyway. I have to find that part of him and bring it forward.

  So she took another step towards him and did what she knew you’re not supposed to do when confronted by a snarling dog. She looked the big Kindred directly in his pale green eyes—the same eyes she’d seen in her dreams.

  “J’are,” she said softly but firmly. “J’are, come back to me—come back to yourself. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help.”

  As she looked into his pale eyes, she tried to project calm energy, to show with her face, her voice, her body language, that she was only here to help.

  “Please,” she murmured. “Please, J’are— I’m here to bring you home.”

  Pale green eyes clashed with hers for a long, breathless moment. Then, slowly, a change came over the big Kindred.

  His shoulders loosened just a bit and his big, muscular body lost some of its tension. The curled upper lip began to relax, hiding the sharp white teeth and the two sets of fangs in his upper and lower jaws. Lastly, sentience flooded his face in a way that was difficult to define but it centered in his eyes.

  “I…have…no home.” His voice came out deep and hoarse and his words were hesitant, as though he hadn’t talked in a long time and was trying to remember how.

  But at least he’s talking! Imani thought, a thrill running through her. He’s talking and thinking—he’s out of the feral state.

  But he was just barely out of it. She sensed that one wrong move—one wrong word—could send him right back into that animalistic rage.

  “I’ll be your home,” sh
e said softly. “If you’ll let me, “J’are.”

  “You know…my name.” He frowned uncertainly. “But I don’t know yours.”

  The words were coming a bit less hesitantly now and she sensed he was remembering himself more and more.

  “My name is Imani and I’m your Defender,” she said. Then something made her reach up to him and lay a hand on his rough cheek.

  It was a long stretch, since he was so tall and Imani was what she liked to call “height challenged.” But J’are met her halfway. Chains clinking, he leaned down and accepted her gentle caress. For just a moment, his eyes closed as though in pleasure at her touch. When they opened again, he was looking directly at Imani.

  “You are here to Claim me?” he asked hoarsely. “You name me as your own?”

  Imani bit her lip. There seemed to be some significance to his words—some hidden meaning she was missing. She wished desperately that she’d been able to find out more about the Nightwalker Kindred before she came on this mission. But it was too late now—she’d just have to go with it.

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “I Claim you, J’are. I name you as my own—you are mine and I will take you home.”

  “That you most certainly will not.” Judge Thoughtgood’s strident voice cut through the magical spell which seemed to have fallen over Imani and the big Kindred.

  She looked up, her hand still pressed to his cheek.

  “Why can’t I take him?” she asked, forgetting to address the judge correctly, though she had never forgotten court protocol before in her life. “You can see that he’s no threat.”

  “I see that he’s no threat to you. At least, not right now,” Judge Thoughtgood said, frowning. “But it remains to be seen if he will be safe for anyone else to be around.”

  “Just let me take him with me,” Imani pleaded. “I’ll take full legal responsibility for his actions.”