Wicked Burn

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Nick stood and reached her in seconds, drawing her back into him and wrapping an arm around her waist. “They’re family, sweetheart. They love you no matter what.”

  She smiled and smacked his arm. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

  “Of course.” He leaned in and nuzzled her ear.

  The heat of his mouth sent desire through her body, zinging at several important stops on the way. They did have the night before a helicopter arrived the next day to take her to the trial. She wiggled until his hold loosened and then turned to face him, safely within the circle of his arms.

  The door blew open on its hinges, flying past the kitchen and into the table Nick had just vacated.

  He pivoted instantly and shoved her toward the refrigerator. “Downstairs. Now.”

  She’d barely made it a step when Guard soldiers ran into the room, fully armed and wearing battle gear, including night scopes. She paused and straightened, refusing to run or cower. “This is quite a show for little ol’ me.”

  Their flak boots crunched debris on the floor, and their weapons remained centered on her and Nick’s chest. He stepped to the side, partially covering her. “Lower your weapons, now.”

  The soldiers didn’t flinch.

  The muscles in Nick’s back vibrated, and the room filled with the swell of his fury. “You have guns pointed at a member of the Coven Nine. You will lower those weapons.”

  Slowly, the weapons lowered a couple of inches.

  One of the soldiers cleared his throat. “By the power of the Nine, we’re to escort you to Dublin, Miss Brightston.”

  “My trial starts tomorrow,” she said clearly, showing no fear, even though her insides were absolutely quaking.

  He nodded. “I understand, but you’ve been out of contact, and the Nine sent a warrant.”

  Well, she couldn’t exactly tell them where she’d been, now, could she? “How did you find me?”

  The soldier shrugged. “I don’t know the details, ma’am. Just that we have a force of twenty surrounding the area to take you in.”

  Twenty? Jesus. As pissed as Nick was, he could probably fry all their brains, but one or two of them would get off a shot first. Simone couldn’t risk the baby, and since she was headed to Dublin anyway, why not cooperate? She reached out and clasped Nick’s arm. “We’d appreciate the ride, gentlemen.”

  Nick’s arm was steel beneath her fingers.

  She tightened her hold. “There’s no reason not to go.” Although one more night with him had held a lot more appeal.

  “I had plans for the evening,” he rumbled, his gaze not leaving the soldiers.

  As did she. She paused. “What kind of plans?”

  “The kind involving markings, bitings, and coming hard,” he returned, keeping his body between her and the weapons.

  Oh. Heat climbed up her neck to her face. The soldiers didn’t react to the words, but her entire body did. The markings should probably wait until they’d had a good discussion . . . and she had her freedom. “I’ll have to take a rain check,” she said, stepping to his side and nodding at the lead soldier. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 30

  The skies opened up and poured furious rain the morning of the trial. Nick had slept in a hotel near the Nine headquarters, while Simone had been sequestered somewhere else. As his escort delivered him to the innocuous building at the edge of Dublin, he tried to rein in his temper. Clear and cool thinking would win the day. Should he choose to mind attack everyone, there would be no coming back from that.

  The silent guard took him through the labyrinth of hallways that turned to secret tunnels and finally led deep into the earth to the chambers surrounded by rock.

  Simone was waiting for him at what he considered the defense table, while the prosecutor was busily laying out manila folders in perfect order on his table. Several guards had been stationed at points around the perimeter, fully armed. Nick leaned down and brushed Simone’s head for a kiss before dropping his tablets and manila files onto their table. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She turned and lifted an eyebrow. “Of course.”

  He smiled. The woman was all grit and class. For the trial, she’d worn a deep blue skirt and bodice-style dress that made her eyes sparkle. Her thick hair was piled atop her head in a fancy chignon, her lips were red, and her skin flawless. A Celtic knot pendant settled between her breasts and matched her earrings. “Nice necklace.”

  She fingered the silver design and smiled. “Kellach bought a bunch of them one year and gave them to all the female cousins for their birthdays. It’s my good luck charm.”

  Sweet. Here she was wearing her beauty as a shield, and she’d thought to bring family with her. “We’ll win this.”

  “Of course we will.” Determination hardened her chin. There was the woman he adored.

  The wall slid open behind the raised dais, and Peter Gallagher, Nessa Lansa, and Sal Donny walked in, all taking the same seats as before. Apparently Peter was sitting in for Viv as the head of the Council until she returned. The door closed.

  Peter banged a gavel, deep lines cutting into the sides of his mouth. “Council members Louise Fronts and Frances Murphy have both succumbed to planekite attacks.”

  Simone gasped, and her body shuddered as if a physical blow had been delivered. “They died?”

  “Aye.” Stress fanned out from his bloodshot eyes. “Vivienne Northcutt and Dr. Dunne are expected to reach a slow but complete recovery.” He cleared his throat. “With the death penalty on the table, Brenna Dunne has been excused from serving, as well.”

  “So my future is up to the three of you,” Simone said clearly.

  Nick’s mouth twitched. Coming out fighting, was she? Good.

  “Yes,” Peter said. “Let’s get started. Colman Foley, is the prosecution ready to present its case for treason, murder, and attempted murder against Simone Brightston?”

  “I am,” Colman said.

  “Good. Let me remind everyone that the defendant is a member of the Council of the Coven Nine and has given service to this institution for over a century. She will be accorded all respect due to her. The Council can detect falsehoods, so the witnesses are forewarned.” Peter set down the gavel and leaned back in his leather chair. “And, Mr. Veis?”

  “Yes?” Nick asked.

  “We’ve deployed certain aspects of the veil here, so your powers, as well as the defendant’s, have been minimized.”

  Nick instantly shot a mind attack toward Peter, who didn’t so much as blink. “Understood,” Nick said. Well, shit.

  “Good. There’s no need for opening arguments, as the sitting Council is more than up to speed here. In addition, we do not require character witnesses since so many have sent in letters supporting Ms. Brightston. Mr. Coleman, please call your first witness,” Peter said, gesturing to a witness stand to the right of the dais made of smooth, round stones.

  Colman nodded and called a forensic accountant named Berry Pine, who was a thousand-year-old witch with wild gray hair, even wilder gray eyes, and terrible taste in clothing. His plaid suit had seen better days, and his paisley tie held more mustard stains than design. He droned on about all the money, the location of the mines, and the banking transfers bearing Simone’s signature.

  Finally, Nick had had enough. He stood. “Begging the Council’s pardon, but we’re happy to stipulate about the money transfers, land transfers, and the transfer and usage of the mineral rights that may or may not have mined planekite.”

  Peter’s mouth gaped open. “You’re stipulating to these facts?”

  Nick shrugged. “Sure. We’re not arguing any of the transfers, or whether or not planekite was mined. Even if we’re not sure, we’re fine stipulating that planekite was mined, it was used to create Apollo, and it was then weaponized against witches and humans.”

  Peter cleared his throat. “You’re on Simone’s side, right?”

  “Yes,” Nick said.

  Peter looked at Simone. “You’r
e on board with the stipulations?”

  “Aye,” she said without hesitation.

  Nick’s chest warmed. The woman trusted him.

  “Very well,” Peter said, turning his focus to Colman. “In light of the stipulations, do you have any further questions for this witness?”

  Colman coughed and shuffled papers, obviously caught off guard. “Ah, no. I tender the witness.”

  Nick stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Mr. Pine, do you know who ordered all of the transfers?”

  Pine slightly turned his large bulk in the witness box. “Simone Brightston’s name is at the bottom of all the transfers.”

  “Are you an expert in handwriting analysis?” Nick asked.

  “No.”

  “Is there a chance that somebody else could have forged Ms. Brightston’s signature on all the documents?”

  Pine shrugged. “I’m not an expert, so I have no clue. My job was to trace the money and land transfers, which I’ve done.”

  Nick paused. “Mr. Pine, do you know Simone Brightston?”

  “Aye, I do. We’ve met at many functions and have served on different organizations together,” Pine said.

  “Is she smart?”

  “Excuse me?” Pine asked.

  “Simone. In your opinion, do you think she’s an intelligent woman?” Nick asked.

  Pine nodded, his gaze serious. “Yes. I do think she’s very bright.”

  “Ah. How bright is it to sign your own name to a bunch of illegal land and money transfers?” Nick asked smoothly.

  “That would actually be either arrogant or stupid,” Pine said.

  “Thank you,” Nick said, keeping his face calm. He’d made the point, but Pine’s mention of “arrogance” didn’t help. Simone was more than confident, and Pine had just given the prosecution material to use that against her. “I tender this witness.”

  Colman cleared his throat. “Next I call Orrin Forsent, who is a handwriting analysis expert.”

  Nick sat down and watched Orrin take the stand. Tall and whipcord thin, the witch had thick red hair and more freckles than sand at the beach. Colman ran him through all the documents and had him compare the signatures on them to ones he’d had Simone submit right in chambers. He spent an inordinate amount of time on the shipping transfers that had brought the planekite from Russia to Seattle in the last couple of weeks. Orrin concluded, based on his expert opinion, that the signatures were authentic.

  Nick stood when it was his turn to question. “You’re a witch, right?”

  Orrin nodded. “I am.”

  “Witches alter matter using quantum physics as well as a myriad of other sciences, right?”

  “Yes.” Orrin shoved light-refracting glasses up his nose.

  “Isn’t it possible that a very talented witch could easily copy another witch’s signature? I mean, with all the power witches hold?” Nick asked, his eyebrows rising.

  Orrin’s nostrils flared. “I do not believe that’s what happened here.”

  “Answer the question,” Nick returned evenly.

  Orrin lifted a shoulder. “I guess it could happen.”

  “Could you do it?” Nick challenged.

  “I would not.” Orrin leaned forward in the box.

  “That’s not what I asked you,” Nick said silkily. “Do you have the talent or skill to forge a signature well enough that it couldn’t be detected?”

  Orrin cleared his throat. “I could.”

  “Then it’s possible.” Nick turned away from the shithead. “This guy can go.” He eyed the Council. Peter and Sal remained stern, but Nessa had definitely mellowed. He figured she’d find Simone not guilty anyway, considering she was known to be not only fair but brilliant. She’d know Simone wouldn’t do such a thing. However, the other two men were both vying for political position, and he couldn’t read where they’d come down.

  Colman gestured for the guard to escort Orrin out the side wall. “The prosecution calls Phillipe Sadler.”

  Nick stood. “We object. Mr. Sadler offers nothing but his vendetta against Simone, her family, and the Coven Nine as a whole.”

  “We’ll allow the testimony while keeping the past in mind,” Peter said.

  The wall opened, and Phillipe Sadler strode in wearing Armani. He had vivid blue eyes and a shaggy mane of brown hair, but he strode like the fighter he was rumored to be. He took his seat, and his gaze landed on Simone, hardening instantly.

  Nick fought the urge to step between her and the witness.

  Colman reached for a notepad and read quickly. “Mr. Sadler, is it true you have a vendetta against the Nine?”

  “Yes,” Sadler said.

  Nick lifted his chin. Interesting strategy.

  “Why?” Colman asked.

  “They hurt my mother,” Sadler said simply.

  Colman nodded. “I understand, but your mother was accused of treason based on her relationship with Trevan Demidov, right?”

  “Aye, but my mother had been mated to my father, who died centuries ago, so she and Trevan obviously couldn’t have had a physical relationship. This was before the time of viruses and the ability to negate mating bonds.” Sadler snapped the words out. “On the other hand, Simone Brightston had a relationship with him that I do believe included all sorts of terribly kinky sex.”

  Nick bit back a snarl, sorry that he couldn’t kill Trevan all over again. One of the Kayrs men had taken care of the rogue witch ages ago. Trevan had hidden his agenda to take down the Nine from Simone but had shared it with his partner in crime, Grace Sadler, Phillipe’s mother.

  “Where is your brother?” Colman asked, as if right in tune with Nick’s thoughts.

  Phillipe looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. We’ve been investigating Simone Brightston, and my brother has disappeared. I have no doubt he met his death at her hands.” He looked up, his gaze piercing Nick. “Or at her lover’s hands.”

  Nick allowed his fangs to drop just a bit. “You have any proof of that ridiculous accusation?”

  Peter banged his gavel on the desk. “Mr. Veis, wait your turn.”

  Colman continued, “Tell us about your vendetta.”

  “My mother hired several investigators the second she was forced off the Council, and we’ve spent years watching and compiling evidence against all of the Coven Nine members.” He turned toward the three sitting members. “We know all of your secrets, and we’re willing to make them public.”

  Was that a threat or what? Nick watched the council members, who looked back at Sadler without revealing a thing.

  Sadler turned back toward Colman. “We’ve watched Simone for years, and we’ve compiled evidence against her. The second we saw she was behind the planekite mining and manufacture of Apollo, we turned over the proof to you.”

  Colman nodded, took a remote control, and started a film on the stone wall. “Is this one of the recordings?”

  “Yes. This one shows Simone at the Boltucli Bank in Switzerland, where the documents prove the planekite funding originally came from.” The recording showed Simone in the bank, signing papers, and putting cash in safety deposit boxes.

  Nick glanced her way. She grasped a pen and a notepad. THAT’S ME, AND I DO BANK THERE.

  Wonderful. Nick nodded.

  BUT I DIDN’T MOVE PLANEKITE.

  He nodded again. It sure as shit looked like she had when the camera zoomed in on one of the land transfers.

  She sighed. MY FINANCIAL ADVISORS HAD ME BUY AND SELL LAND AS PART OF MY PORTFOLIO. I DIDN’T KNOW.

  Made sense. Whoever had set her up had spent years doing it. It was entirely possible she had signed some of the documents, but definitely not any of the shipping manifests. Those were the key, but so far, his experts hadn’t been able to prove the signatures were falsified.

  Colman went through recording after recording of Simone conducting business in the bank. Finally, he shut off the film. “Mr. Sadler, you have compiled a lot of evidence here, and even though your motivations aren�
�t exactly pure, I appreciate the hard work. I do have to ask you one more question, one we’re all wondering about.”

  “What’s that?” Phillipe asked, triumph darkening his eyes.

  Nick tensed.

  “Why in the world, based on all of your research, would Simone Brightston want to take down the Coven Nine as well as the witch nation?”

  Phillipe smiled. “Because she’s not a witch.”

  Peter coughed. “Of course she’s a witch.”

  “No, sir. Her father was known as Roman, a shifter who deeply hated the Coven Nine. He contacted Simone a hundred years ago, and they’ve been planning this atrocity ever since.”

  Peter shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why would a shifter want to harm the Nine?”

  “He’s not your ordinary shifter.” Phillipe lowered his chin to look straight at Simone. “He’s the father of Traxton, whom the Nine put to death a millennium ago.”

  Colman stepped around the table. “I’ve lived long enough that I remember Traxton. He was an anomaly. A multi-shifter that could defend against any species and even fly. He was a sociopath, and the immortal world banded together to take him down.”

  “Well, now. Turns out multi-shifters don’t exist, but . . . dragons do.” Phillipe pointed at Simone. “Just ask Simone Brightston. She’s a dragon, and she’s been plotting against you all along, my friends. You killed her brother, Traxton, a long time ago.”

  Chapter 31

  Simone paced the conference room, trying to count the energy signatures of the guards outside. Many, many guards. “Can you believe that? Is there a chance that Traxton was actually Roman’s kid, too?” Did the dragon have some great gift of spreading his seed or what?

  “Could be,” Nick said, poring over documents, an untouched roast beef sandwich next to him on the table. “That testimony killed us. Well, after the council got over the shock about dragons.” He sat back, fury sizzling in his dark eyes.