by A K Blake
Yet the one person never in her dreams was Jedrick. It was as if, now that he might be in the realm of the living, he was banished from her imaginary world. She tried when she was awake to piece together Sylton’s words about him, but it was hard to remember past the adrenaline of the moment and fuzziness in her brain. Jedrick had been with him at the compound? He’d called her name in his sleep? Could he be alive, or had he died there, alone? Regardless, it didn’t make sense. So she shoved it back down, tried to concentrate on getting through each night. There would time for emotions later. Right now, she had to survive.
Despite this, the dream Jedrick had once appeared in persisted, but with a peculiar twist. It began the same, with her standing in the doorway at the back of his house, leaning against the wooden frame of the peeling yellow door. Hearing the sound of heavy, unmatched footsteps, she moved back inside.
Yet, upon opening the door to his room, she was surprised to discover it had disappeared, transmuted into the old stone chamber from the palace. Heavy columns stretched toward the dark, vaulted ceiling of the king-root. Her footsteps echoed softly against the rough hewn floor. It was empty, save for a funeral pyre. The body lay on a heavy granite slab, its hillocks and valleys covered by a white sheet, pure but for a red stain that blossomed over the face. The stain was almost like a flower, just where the lips would be.
Thinking it a shame, Iona reached for the edge of the cloth. She had not been there for his real burial, had been cowering in the woods like an animal. The least she could do was scrub out the stain. Yet when she put her hand out, blood trickled down from her veinguard, speckling the body with red. Where it touched the sheet it, the fabric began to smoke, as if her blood were eating away at it like acid. In a panic, she ripped off the covering, only to find that it was not Jedrick underneath, but the Queen.
***
A night later Iona was shown into a large open room, dotted with tables. Kaius sat alone at one of them, looking out of place in such a squalid setting. He looked tired, pale and drawn, his face serious in that way that was disconcerting on someone so irreverent. His foot tapped rapidly, moving up and down so fast it was little more than a blur. Looking up, he seemed to try for a smile when he saw her, but it only half worked. One side of his mouth was drawn upward, the expression never making it to his eyes. She didn’t want to think how her response appeared.
Apparently unable to stand the silence, he burst out before she could sit down. “How are you?”
“As good as I can be I guess. You? You’re here, so I guess they let you out of jail.”
“Yeah, after a few hours. So, you know, I guess I’m doing better than you probably.”
“Probably better than me, yeah.”
He winced, as if realizing it sounded less droll aloud. She felt more alert tonight, her bruises yellowing nicely, some range of movement coming back to her shoulder. Her memories had fully returned as well. She’d found out that the guards had done her a favor by telling the other prisoners about how she’d killed a vampire, single-handed, just for stiffing her a few cc’s. Word had spread quickly, and she hadn’t bothered to set the record straight.
“What have, uh, what have you been doing in here? I mean, what’s happened?”
“Well I’ve tested the food, and I have to say it would not be up to Her Majesty’s standards.”
He snorted, a forced sort of humor, but the tension in his face seemed to ease a little.
“A lawyer came to see me.”
“Lawyer?”
“Mm hm. The Progressives sent her. They want her to keep me quiet.”
“Keep you quiet? About what, why would you need to keep quiet?”
“Kaius, I know this is going to sound crazy, but…”
She bent forward, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. The closest guard was several yards away. Even with vampire hearing he would have a hard time making her out. Iona felt her fists clench tightly, though her fingers burned like fire. It was one thing to think it, to remember something as she faded from consciousness in a pool of her own blood. It was quite another to say it out loud, to make real an impossibility that even she had trouble believing.
“Kaius, he-Sylton. He was human.”
He blinked, furrowing his brow. “What? What are you talking about? He was a vampire.”
“No he was...when we met him at the palace he was a vampire. But I-we met him before, both of us, at the Progressive compound. Kaius, he was human. He attacked someone, the shower manager, don’t you remember?”
Kaius frowned. “I remember the attack, but...that was a different man, Iona. I guess they had similarities, I’ll give you that, but what you’re talking about is...well, it’s pretty crazy.”
“No, I’m sure. I always thought there was something about him, and I remembered it when he...He was yelling about conversion at the compound, don’t you remember? I’m telling you, it was him!”
Kaius seemed to think deeply for a moment, motionless. Eventually, however, he began to shake his head, a look of unmistakable pity in his eyes. Iona felt her heart sink.
“Iona, look, I know what you’ve been through was terrible, enough to trip a couple of anybody’s switches. I think you maybe just got a few things mixed up while you were knocked out. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But what you’re talking about is science fiction. I’m sorry, but it’s just not possible that the two were the same.”
“Then why are they trying to silence me! Why would they send some expensive lawyer to try to get me off easy? Why would they do that if they don’t have anything to hide?”
“I’m sure they do want this kept quiet, it still looks bad on them to have their employees killing each other. And with the change in power coming up, the last thing they want it some tabloid scandal. I think they’d prefer everyone thought Sylton died in a vehicle accident or something.”
Kaius reached across under the table, where the guard couldn’t see. His grasp felt warm, solid and reassuring. It was the first physical contact she’d had since being thrown into her cell, and Iona struggled stay composed.
“I understand why it might seem suspicious to you, but Io, I’m telling you, this story of yours sounds cuckoo. You can’t go telling this to anyone, or they’re going to lock up you in the psych ward.”
Her hand flinched in his, futile anger rising in her like a tide. She couldn’t look at him, staring instead at the dirt-flecked grout in the tile. Kaius sighed.
“Iona, you’ve got me really worried. Please don’t do this. Sure, they’re selfish bastards, and they’re always looking out for themselves. But this helps you too. You don’t want to spend your entire life in prison because of some insane theory, do you? Because that is exactly what will happen if you give up this chance. Even if somehow you’re right, no one is going to believe you. Everyone you tell is going to assume you’re some crackpot with a conspiracy theory, and they will lock you up even faster. Come on, Iona, be smart. This deal sounds, what is it, mutually beneficial? Please, Io. Let it go.”
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She had been so sure. Now, she was less so. Could he have just been someone similar? It would certainly make more sense. But there were things he had said, comments he had made that only now made sense, like the things about Jedrick. Could she have imagined it? Her dreams were certainly crazed, but she knew what was real and what was not. Didn’t she? And then there was Kaius, looking at her like that, grounding her with his hold on her hand. Either way, he was right. Even if she wasn’t crazy, no one was going to believe something like this from a human, a criminal at that. Twelve years wasn’t bad, twelve years she could survive…
Finally she nodded, unable to speak. He squeezed her hand a little too hard, making the knuckles crack.
“Oh, Dieda take it, I’m sorry. Are you ok? Look, I’m so relieved to hear you say that. You’re doing the right thing, the smart thing.”
She nodded again, still not bearing to look at his face. She could see him ou
t of the corner of her eye, and he relaxed a bit, but the tension in his body remain until the strained end of his visit. It wasn’t until after he pulled back and stood up, when she felt the door to the outside slide open, that she looked up. She was too late for eye contact, just in time to watch him walk away.
***
Her trial occurred surprisingly quickly. The lawyer said that trials of “this nature,” tended to move swiftly, from which Iona gathered that her case appeared open and shut. Whatever the reason, it was fine by her. The pressure of an imagined blade against her neck got more unbearable by the night. At this point, she hardly cared about the result, if only the uncertainty would be over.
The night of the trial, her lawyer brought her a dress, high collared and with a skirt past her knees. It was a far cry from what she’d become accustomed to wearing as a giver, though that was no doubt the point. The dowdier she looked—the less like a conniving, high class seductress—the better.
“Don’t say anything in there unless you’re spoken to. Try to keep your answers short and specific to the question. The last thing we need is for you to go rambling off about something and further incriminate yourself. Murder is a tough one to spin, but you have the advantage of being human and female, which predisposes the judge to see you as the defending weakling. If he asks you about the murder itself, express contrition. It was a heat of the moment decision, one that you deeply regret and will never, ever make again. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go.”
The courtroom was adjoining of the prison, though it was much nicer and better maintained. The judge was younger than she’d expected, a burly vampire with shoulders like a gladiator and a thick mane of auburn hair that he wore slicked back in dramatic fashion. He looked up as they approached.
“Practitioner Striga.”
Her lawyer gave a shallow bow.
“Chancellor Pilla, a pleasure as always.”
“You maybe be seated.”
They sat.
“Let’s just get straight to the point, shall we? It has come to light that your client, previously thought to be facing a single count of murder, is also charged with possession of an illegal weapon, as well as hacking a government-provided device in order to worm through the palace’s firewalls, which are, of course, the intellectual property of the crown.”
“The crown is bringing new charges? Chancellor, this is the first I’m hearing of this, I would like to request a rescheduling of the—"
“Yes, I understand the irregularity. However, in light of the incredible and severe nature of these crimes, I have determined that further deliberation is unnecessary. As provided by the police, the evidence for the additional charges is quite damning. While I admire your formidable talents, Practitioner, I don’t believe even you could find a viable argument against these accusations, and to attempt to repudiate them would only be a waste of what I’m sure is quite invaluable time on your part.”
“Chancellor, I must strongly protest. To not be told about additional charges until the trial is a gross breach of protocol and puts my client at an insurmountable disadvantage. I would very strongly encourage you to consider pushing back this trial’s date—"
“Practitioner, do not test my patience. Are you really expecting me to believe that there is no ulterior motive happening here? That you chose to represent a human of no known abilities or fame out of the goodness of your heart? I have an idea who is paying your salary for this case—”
“All due respect, Chancellor, but my employers are not the issue at hand and hardly—”
“—and I have no intention of allowing Eris deManthus to bend the rules of justice to his will. He may have the members of Assembly eating out of the palm of his hand, but some of us are still capable of resisting corruption.”
“Chancellor—"
“Practitioner, if you value your job and your attorney license you will sit down!”
The Chancellor was on his feet now, his red hair displaced and flying about his head. His voice reverberated throughout the chamber. After several moments of strained silence, her lawyer sat.
When the Chancellor spoke again, his voice had returned to its usual volume. “The case, as I see it, is clear, and I will be making a decision forthwith. The offender is hereby convicted of one count vampiric homicide, one count illegal weapons possession, and one count third degree unauthorized access of a government network. The verdict is three human life sentences or a trial by combat, to be administered in the arena.”
“Chancellor, please, be reasonable—"
“My decision is final. How does the defendant plead?”
“She does not plead! We move for a mistrial. These are highly unusual circumstances.”
“I am not standing aside, throwing away my reputation, just so you can pay off some left-leaning judge.”
“That is highly inflammatory!”
“Then disprove it!”
They were both breathing heavily, fangs not quite extended, but the tension in the room was palatable. Iona barely registered it. Not a week before, she had been living in the palace, serving at the pleasure of the Queen. Now the Queen was dead, and she might as well be. Three life sentences. She was going to rot away in a cell, no one to remember her.
“Chancellor, will you grant the mistrial, or will I be forced to take this up with the Council of—"
Iona interrupted. “I plead guilty.”
The lawyer stopped, then turned to Iona, speaking sideways at her in a furious whisper.
“Do you want to be your own lawyer? Did you go to school for an entire decade just to practice law? Trust me, I am the best person to help you. Let me do my job, and—"
“I plead guilty, and I choose combat.”
If the Chancellor was pleased, he did not express it, simply nodding solemnly.
“Practitioner I would say that settles it. So may it be.”
He rang a symbolic set of bells that had been sitting on his desk. Iona did not look at her lawyer, hardly felt her scorching glare. The vampire didn’t care about her. She just cared about her record. Iona had become intimately familiar with this sort of emotional manipulation; givers were well versed in it.
“Security, escort this woman to the holding pens. It appears we have another gladiator on our hands.”
She felt the Chancellor’s gaze on her as she was led away. It might have been her imagination, but she thought now he looked at her with a vague sort of interest, as if there were something worth seeing.
Chapter 21
Kaius was beside himself.
“You told me she would get off, you said she would only get a few years!”
“As I have already quite patiently explained, forces outside of our control—"
“Outside your control? You must be shitting me. I thought you had everything under control! Isn’t that why you’re always calling me up, blackmailing me into doing your dirty work, getting secrets on all your little minions, just so you can move people around like pawns in your own little board game? Isn’t your whole job screwing people over until they do what you want? How could you possibly have let this happen?”
Had he been in a more objective state of mind, Kiaus might have appreciated how relatively tolerantly the Cleric was taking his abuse. In his current state, however, it was all he could do to stop himself from wringing the vampire’s already bloodless neck. If Citra hadn’t been there—Dieda knew why she was—he might have.
“Master Amicus, I understand that the girl was...significant to you, and as I have already assured you and will do you the courtesy of once more repeating, my ‘machinations’ in this matter, as one might call them, were in her own best interests—"
“Oh yes, that’s quite clear! Me telling her she was crazy, making her doubt her own judgement, whispering sweet nothings to get her not to expose all your insane experiments on her kind, I see now that was obviously meant to help her—straight into a silent grave!”
Citra bro
ke in. “Are you quite done, Kaius? This is a man of god, an instrument of Dieda and Calleda. You forget yourself.”
“Oh, I’m nowhere near done, thank you very much! You think this is a matter of rank? You think I care who has more pull in this situation? All I care about right now is not being accessory to the murder of a woman I liked, a woman who trusted me.”
Citra growled deep in her throat, but Ascara put out a hand to hold her back. At least he didn’t look happy either. Maybe it truly had been a mistake, failure rather than a con on top of a con. Perhaps the white demon had finally been outwitted. Kaius wasn’t sure which would make him less furious, the idea that it was intentional betrayal or that it was simply oversight.
“The judge was against us. He seems to have been holding a personal grudge. We had made arrangements to have some of the charges dropped, but he made the unilateral decision to bring them without a recommendation from the police. The very expensive attorney hired failed to force him to at least move back the trial, for which you can be sure that she will be reprimanded.”
He paused again. “I understand your emotions in this matter. Unnecessary loss of life is a waste. However, consider if you had not done as I asked. Would she be in a better position? Do you think anyone would have listened to a story like that from a human convict, one who murdered a client no less?”
Kaius said nothing. There was nothing left to say, his fury stuffed down his throat like a wet rag. The words he wanted to fling at Ascara remained incoherent, struggling to take form. Hadn’t he known at this point that if the Progressives wanted something, it couldn’t really be good news? Hadn’t he known when told him to convince Iona to cooperate, it couldn’t truly be “mutually beneficial”? And yet he’d done it anyway, told himself it was the smart choice, for him but for her as well. He’d rationalized away his cowardice like he always did.
The truth was he wouldn’t have believed Iona’s story if Ascara hadn’t confirmed it. He’d had the same puzzle pieces before him as she did but had still willfully failed to see it. But there were others who might have listened. What would have happened if, instead of jumping to do the Progressives’ bidding like he always did, he had found her a journalist, blown the whistle, helped her tell the world? He told himself he had no way of knowing. She might have wound up in the same boat. But at least she would have been vindicated. At least then, her death would have had a reason.