by Bella Klaus
My gaze wandered down to my lap, and I inhaled rapid, shallow breaths. This was my first time in the Supernatural Council courtroom. It would also probably be my last.
“Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies of the Council,” she said, her voice projecting across a space even vaster than it looked from my limited vantage point. “On Sunday, I visited the Natural World, following a report of a Supernatural being contravening Subsection Two of the Supernatural Secrecy Act.”
“We don’t need to hear the legalese,” drawled the King of the Faeries. “Tell us what you found when you caught up with the suspect.”
“I found Hemera Griffin behind the secure wards of a London residence, under the protection of King Valentine of the Vampires.”
Chatter spread across the courtroom, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My gaze darted to the dais, where the Demon King’s eyes flared with what appeared to be firelight. I dropped my gaze to my lap. The man looked like he was enjoying the prospect of possessing my soul.
“I see.” The Mage King rested his elbows on the arms of his golden throne. “Did Miss Griffin display any fire magic?”
Captain Zella stood in front of me with her arms behind her back. “She did not, Your Majesty.”
“None at all?” The Demon King leaned forward, his features falling. “What about when you tested her in custody?”
Captain Zella shook her head. “Results were inconclusive.”
“What does that mean?” snapped the Angel King. “Does Mera have fire or not?”
I sucked in a deep breath, wondering how he knew I preferred this shortened version of my name. Maybe the Angel King was friends with Valentine. Maybe angels were good and fair and truly believed all supernatural beings were equal.
Captain Zella exhaled a long breath. “All signs point toward Hemera Griffin being a Neutral.”
The Demon King slumped back in his throne and turned his gaze to the ceiling with a disappointed groan. His actions just confirmed the rumor that the Council tossed souls of people like me to hell.
My chest loosened, and a breath whistled through my teeth. Captain Zella would test me again tomorrow, but at least I would survive another day. A lot could happen in twenty-four hours.
“Then Miss Griffin’s execution will take place immediately?” asked the Witch Queen.
“What?” I blurted.
All six members of the Supernatural Council turned their gazes to me.
My throat dried. “If I’m still a Neutral, why would I get killed?” The words tumbled from my lips. I probably should have used correct grammar or formal English, but my brain had scrambled at the unfairness of my situation. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The entire courtroom filled with excited chatter, and the herald stepped into the middle of the marble floor, banging his ceremonial staff and shouting for order.
Moments later, the courtroom quietened.
“Did anyone explain to you the results of your trial in absentia?” asked the Witch Queen.
“Isn’t this my trial?” I murmured.
The Fae King placed his hand over his mouth to suppress a chuckle. I clenched my teeth, failing to see the joke.
“Hemera.” The Witch Queen leaned forward, fixing me with her shimmering eyes. “The Council found you guilty of the murder of King Valentine based on the overwhelming evidence found at the scene of the crime.”
A fist of shock punched me in the heart, making me jerk forward in my restraints. All the air left my lungs, and I struggled to force out the words. “I didn’t kill him. It was suicide.”
Someone made a choking laugh, making my chest tighten.
“His servants found you sitting beside his dead body with puncture wounds on your neck,” said the Fae King with a chuckle. “They said he gifted you the murder weapon and once heard you threaten to stab him with it.”
I shook my head from side to side, trying to dislodge the memory of Valentine’s heavy body pinning mine to the cushions, the pierce of his fangs on my jugular, and his excited, hot breath. For a moment, his gulping swallows filled my ears, and I could feel the rapid movement of his throat as he guzzled mouthfuls of my blood.
Then… A wave of grief washed over my senses, making me lurch forward. Then he killed himself to save my life. One of the healers who had tended to me must have dampened the memory so that I could stand trial. Now, the whole horror of Valentine nearly killing me consumed my every thought.
“He was trying to protect me,” I said. “Didn’t anyone check the magical forensics?”
“We will not overturn our verdict,” the Mage King said. “Any further outbursts, and I will hold you in contempt of court.”
The trial continued as I relived my last few memories before the wards fell, when Valentine had slumped over me, and those last tender words he uttered before succumbing to the solid flame dagger.
Somewhere on the edge of my awareness, one of the Council Monarchs admonished Captain Zella for not telling me of the verdict. Apparently, there were two trials: the first for the murder of Valentine, which they held while I was unconscious, and this was the second to decide if I was a wielder of fire.
The Demon King slammed his fist on the arm of his golden throne with a rattling bang that made everyone fall silent. He sat straighter in his seat and stared down at me with heated eyes. “She must remain alive until her blood settles.”
“I fail to see the point of prolonging her suffering,” said the Witch Queen. “I move for a swift execution.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Only to avoid casting shame on your citizens. I vote that we keep Miss Griffin alive and bring her in for testing at the end of the week.”
“Agreed,” said the Fae King.
“Agreed,” snarled the Shifter King.
“Agreed,” said the Mage King.
“No,” said the Angel King. “Mera should be executed immediately for her own crimes. The evidence points toward the murder being carried out in self-defense.”
The Fae King shook his head. “Any human entering into a relationship with a supernatural does so accepting liabilities for the risk. The Court already established that Miss Griffin was the former concubine of King Valentine, so the same rule applies to her.”
A boulder of sorrow sank into my heart and settled in my stomach. I couldn’t even feel outraged at the unfairness of that comment. The leather restraint around my neck tightened, forcing me to stare straight at the Council members sitting on the dais.
The Demon King hummed his approval and nodded. “Besides, it’s four against two. Even if King Valentine were alive to offer the girl mercy, she would still die.”
My gaze darted from side to side. I opened my mouth to ask what was happening, but no sound came out. Someone had silenced me from speaking out.
I stared at the Witch Queen, who met my gaze with sad eyes. Did she want me executed so my soul would stay out of the hands of the Demon King?
The herald crossed the courtroom and bowed in front of the dais. “The majority votes that Hemera Griffin be kept in custody for another seventy-two hours, after which she will submit herself to further magical testing. Does any member of the Council have an objection?”
The Witch Queen stood. “I do.”
“What say you, Your Majesty?” said the herald.
She glanced down the row of males. “I would ask my esteemed colleagues to consider that Miss Griffin acted in self-defense, and her coven had no advance knowledge of her actions. Therefore we must hold them innocent of the murder of King Valentine.”
Palpitations thudded through my heart, and my chest tightened with oncoming panic. Why on earth would anyone even consider Aunt Arianna and the rest of the coven responsible for something I supposedly did in the midst of being attacked?
The Demon King waved a dismissive hand. “Pretty words, but short-sighted. If the girl is a fire wielder as suspected, everyone who failed to report her will also face execution.”
“I think we’re forgetting the most important issue,” drawled the Mage King. “If Miss Griffin is indeed as we suspect then King Valentine may rise as a preternatural vampire.”
Shouts exploded across the courtroom, and a shocked breath whistled through my teeth. I screamed, but the sound was muffled by the enchantment someone had cast over me to stay silent. Valentine couldn’t rise as a preternatural vampire. It would take an army of supernatural vampires to slay him, and—
A sob tore from my throat. What the hell had just happened?
Healer Dianne had wanted to send enforcers after Beatrice because she had been exposed to fire magic. Fire magic that would make her rise as a zombie if she were to die with it still in her system.
Valentine had drunk my blood. Lots of it. Dying with fire in his veins meant he could rise from his grave a monster that would rival the most heinous creations of Kresnik.
“Silence,” roared the herald.
Nobody took notice of him. While supernatural vampires were born, preternatural ones were not only made, but they could turn others. I wasn’t sure of the details, but that’s what had made Kresnik so dangerous. Once he had infected one vampire, they could move around the Supernatural World, forming armies of loyal preternatural monsters for their master.
The Witch Queen raised a hand, and a burst of magic oscillated across the vast chamber, making everyone fall silent. I jerked back in my wooden seat, shuddering at the woman’s sheer power.
She cleared her throat. “One in a thousand fire wielders hold the power of animation. Even if Miss Griffin tested positive for fire magic, that still wouldn’t mean she transmuted King Valentine into a preternatural.”
Forcing deep breaths in and out of my lungs, I concentrated all my hope on the Witch Queen and tried to stay calm. She was right. Having fire didn’t mean I was in any way special. Valentine would probably just stay dead, only I would be executed for his murder, and my soul would remain out of the clutches of the Demon King.
I worried at my bottom lip with my teeth, swallowing over and over, as though I couldn’t fully absorb the truth. The other Council members rejected the Witch Queen’s suggestion but allowed my coven the freedom to put their affairs in order if I was found guilty of having fire.
As the herald cleared the courtroom, grief settled around my shoulders like a shroud, and the weight of my predicament sank into my soul. Valentine was not only just dead at the point of my dagger, but his tormented soul might never move on to the afterlife.
Nobody had studied the effect of turning preternatural on a person’s soul, as they were more interested in finding ways to exterminate the undead, but if he turned, would he be himself? Would he suffer? What about his brothers?
The vampire throne had been empty. I didn’t know if that was because his family was still mourning or if they were too disgusted at what I had done to look me in the face.
Tears stung the back of my eyes. I sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that poor Valentine would stay dead, that my powers would remain dormant during the next testing, and that Aunt Arianna and the others would survive the wrath of the council.
Chapter Twenty-One
The courtroom cleared, leaving me alone with Captain Zella. She advanced toward my wooden chair, releasing the leather straps encasing my torso and neck and limbs. As soon as the last of the restraints fell loose, the magic forcing me to remain silent vanished with a pop.
She stood back a few paces with her white cap tucked beneath her arm, and raised her hand, beckoning me to stand.
I shot the dark-haired woman a filthy glower. “Why didn’t you tell me I’d been found guilty for Valentine’s death?”
She raised her brows. “Would it have made a difference to your outcome?”
“Yes, it would—”
“Of course it wouldn’t,” she snapped. “I was at the murder scene moments after the wards fell. It was obvious to anyone who saw you both that King Valentine would have killed you if you hadn’t attacked him with that solid flame dagger.”
I clenched my teeth, breathing hard through flared nostrils. “He killed himself.”
Captain Zella shook her head. “Even if that were true, the Council would never have allowed a scandal like that to go public.”
Bitterness coated my tongue. I knew how to read between the lines. The Supernatural Council didn’t want to appear weak, and they saw me as a convenient scapegoat. It was why they were so desperate to prove I could wield fire. The Vampire King murdered by a fire mage sounded more dramatic than Valentine sacrificing himself for love. Besides, it would also justify their murder of innocent children suspected of having fire.
“That doesn’t explain why you kept quiet about the verdict,” I said. “You should have told me before the herald arrived instead of letting me find out in a crowded Council room.”
Impatience flickered across her features, and she glanced over her shoulder, huffing out a sharp breath. “The Supernatural Council deems overemotional outbursts as not showing the proper respect for their authority. I wanted to make sure you had a clean execution without dragging down innocent members of your coven for not teaching you how to act with decorum.”
My shoulders sagged, and all sense of outrage drained out of me in a tired sigh. “Oh.”
Captain Zella flicked her head toward a door at the base of the dais. “Get up. It’s time to return to your cell.”
She led the way, making me trudge after her in a jumpsuit that made my arms and legs feel like lead. Everyone knew all about these accursed garments. The cuffs and collars and seams of prisoner uniforms were imbued with a special kind of magic that weighted down the limbs, controlled the wearer’s movements, and could even punish them with a lash of magic.
I’d never been in trouble with the enforcers in my life, but a group of them had visited the academy to demonstrate what happened to those who broke the law. Part of that lesson included a physical education session where we had to run from one end of the gymnasium to the other in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. It was a painful experience for everyone, even those intelligent enough not to attempt to escape.
We passed through the wooden doorway, down into a darkened corridor illuminated only by the light of the courtroom. I couldn’t see what was ahead of us past Captain Zella’s larger body, but after several steps into the hallway, the door behind us slammed shut, encasing us both in the dark.
A shiver trickled down my spine. “I don’t suppose shadow mages can move the darkness aside?”
“Feel free to illuminate the passage with a flaming fist,” the captain replied with a smile in her voice.
I pressed my lips together in a tight line. This was the equivalent of death row. Worse, because if they found me guilty of wielding magic, Aunt Arianna would die. She’d sent enough nullweed-infused chocolate to convince even the most optimistic of people that she was guilty of harboring a fire-user. And if Valentine rose from the dead, every single person in my coven would face execution.
Right now, the last thing I needed was an enforcer’s black humor.
“I have another question,” I asked as we trudged down the dark corridor.
“Go on,” she replied.
“You saw the curse on my leg, didn’t you?”
She paused. “Healers took a sample of the magic, yes.”
“What did they discover?”
“It’s called blood lure,” she replied. “It’s ancient, forbidden magic used as indirect weapons against vampires.”
“Because it makes them attack people?” I asked.
“That’s correct,” she replied. “Nobody has cast that spell in over a thousand years and all knowledge of how to cast it was erased.”
One foot stumbled over the other, and I held on to the wall for balance. “Did you tell the Supernatural Council I’d been cursed?”
Captain Zella halted, and I bumped into her back. The uniform didn’t blast out a shot of pain or turn hot as I had expected, but I took a few steps backward with
a muttered apology.
“There’s one thing you need to know,” she said in a voice as heavy as stone. “If knowledge that such a curse existed was made public, everybody with a grudge against a vampire would curse people to turn that vampire feral. People would use the enchantment to assassinate their enemies via vampire. It’s extremely dangerous knowledge.”
My throat tightened, and the back of my eyes stung. “You withheld that information—”
“The Council deemed it inadmissible for your trial.”
“But knowing that Valentine wanted to kill me—”
“Would not have made the slightest bit of difference,” she said with a long sigh. “The rule still applies that anyone willing to enter into a relationship with a supernatural does so accepting the risks and consequences.”
“So they made me a scapegoat,” I muttered.
Captain Zella continued walking. “You’re not listening,” she snapped. “Everyone in the Council knew of your disastrous dalliance with King Valentine, therefore they knew you accepted the risk of him one day draining your blood—”
“Right, right, I get it.”
She huffed a breath, implying that I didn’t. Captain Zella was wrong. I understood the logic behind their decision but what I didn’t get was the unfairness. Never once on human television did I ever see a judge ever say that the victim of a crime knew they were associating with a criminal and therefore accepted the risk of becoming a victim. Where was the justice in that?
We continued through the dark for another ten minutes on a downward, twisting slope that became so steep I had to cling to the walls to keep from sliding on my ass.
“Where are we going?” I snarled.
“There are special cells for people like you,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The slaughter of a king is a threat to Supernatural security,” she said.
I waited for her to mention what I had done to Beatrice, but she didn’t elaborate any further. A relieved breath whooshed from my lungs. At least that meant Healer Dianne hadn’t recovered her memories.
