A Dangerous Witch (Wildes Witch Academy Book 2)

by Holly Ice

  ‘Mentioning failed witnesses makes you look bad, like they want nothing to do with you.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘Got it.’

  Julian’s cheek twitched as he turned back to the prosecutor.

  ‘A few witnesses had good things to say about Ms Nash, or stated that they couldn’t comment on her character. Not all of them knew her well, after all.’ She smiled then, as if giving me a point.

  It dug in like a shard of glass. She was moving in for the kill.

  ‘But, and this is an important but, no one can say they knew her since she was a child. No one can say she has never had contact with magic or any surviving Wildes witches before coming to the academy. And no one can prove she didn’t kill Justin Holt.’

  I narrowed my eyes. She was seriously downplaying Ingrid’s testimony.

  Julian nudged me.

  With effort, I smoothed my expression and seethed inside instead.

  She was only doing her job, presenting the best argument for the WMCF, the ‘people’, but that didn’t stop me imagining her smug narrative crashing around her.

  Hold it together, Bianca.

  My teeth squeaked. I’m trying.

  Did this vile woman ken she was covering up murder? Or did she believe Cameron lied in the inquest rather than now, and think she was cleaning up the community?

  I shivered, not sure which was worse.

  ‘Think about the people who saw her that day. You have her boyfriend’s testimony, but of course he’d lie for her. He’s wrapped around her finger. And the humans she lives with? They’re easily manipulated. Maybe they didn’t even know. It wouldn’t take more than five minutes for her to get to the murder scene from her flat. Who’d notice someone missing for that long?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘That leaves Justin’s partner. He saw a raven familiar. And not one witch within a one hundred mile radius has a raven familiar – or a familiar who disguises himself like one – except Ms Nash. The woman they were watching that night. Whatever Ingrid’s photos show, they can’t tell you who killed Justin Holt. Was it a stranger passing by? Or was it someone who knew him – a Wildes? A Wildes whose every move was being watched, until the night she attacked her guards? Who seems more likely?’

  I bit the inside of my mouth. Hard. I so badly wanted to yell that none of this was me, that I was mourning for Justin as much as anyone, but it’d do no good.

  Julian squeezed my arm and stood, passing the prosecutor as she returned to her seat.

  He squared to the public, meeting the eyes of each row, then he nodded to the coven.

  But the evidence he summarised and all the holes he poked in my supposed need to meet my ‘conspirators’ without watchful eyes, to stop Justin from admitting what he knew about me, or to sabotage the academy, somehow weren’t hitting home. That wasn’t his fault. The public had been sold a story of a lost nemesis, back and murdering their own. A mystery man didn’t have the same pull.

  * * *

  I snuggled into Shane’s neck, not caring that Julian was still in the room.

  The musk and pine were comforting, like home. I snuck my arm around his waist and held on to him, scrunching my fingers in his top.

  ‘Did you try contacting Ivy and Shauna?’ Shane asked over my shoulder.

  Julian sighed. ‘Neither are answering the phone. I think continuing to call them might do more harm than good.’

  I peeked at him. The Delvauxs already let me keep Ingrid. Pestering them for more, to use their hard-won favours on the coven’s judgement without offering something in return was slimy. And unlikely to get me very far.

  ‘Let it go, guys, please.’

  It was all over too fast. I wanted to hide away with Shane and pretend none of this was happening for a wee while, but neither of them stopped chomping at the bit.

  I didn’t need the running blow-by-blow and the weighty post-testimony, post-trial analysis. It was done. They’d done all they could. The next steps were on me.

  My gut flip-flopped, images of Avery crying out in labour searing my mind. I needed an hour’s rest. That was allowed, right?

  Shane smoothed my frown. ‘We can’t let it go. If the Delvauxs pull through, you could be cleared of all charges and out of here tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘I know, okay? But can we be normal people with normal problems for a wee bit?’

  I wasn’t quitting yet. I wanted to spend time with Shane – restful time – before I threw myself into Avery’s walls again. My head needed it, and so did my heart.

  * * *

  I battered Avery’s walls until my brain felt like it’d been repeatedly impaled with a hot poker. I’d napped to ease the white-hot pain, but each time I woke I tried again, and again. Another seven or eight times, with no luck.

  When I finally gave up for the night, I still couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just anxiety dreams either. Nightmares about Avery’s labour, about her bleeding out or dying from infection, too.

  I’d only ‘met’ her a few times but I felt connected to her. We were both being held against our will and we shared blood, however small.

  You should have taken tonight off.

  I know.

  All I was doing by constantly contacting her was giving myself one hell of a migraine. And sending my thoughts into anxious circles, the answers just out of reach, like a cat trying to lick its neck. But what else should I do? Stare at the wall? Endure more nightmares? Wonder what tomorrow might bring?

  Boots thumped closer.

  I frowned. Was it morning already? Without a window, I lost track of time. It could be.

  ‘Breakfast time!’ my guard called, opening my cell’s magical and physical locks, but he didn’t have the breakfast tray with him.

  He gestured down the hall.

  I led us out of the cells and upstairs to the main floor.

  He squeezed my waist to nudge me left.

  I tried not to cringe. That was far too intimate. But I sucked air in and walked faster. Today I had bigger problems than a touchy guard, and better company to focus on.

  Left meant I’d be meeting Julian and Shane. Whatever the sentencing brought, at least I got to spend time with them first.

  My guard pushed the meeting room door open and stepped back, clicking the door shut behind me. He’d stand guard outside, until it was time to escort me to the courtroom.

  I bit my tongue and swallowed shards of ice.

  Shane met me at the door, a slight frown scrunching his brows, a smile faltering.

  He pulled me into a hug. ‘Are you okay? Did you find her?’

  I clung to him and tugged his sweatshirt cords when he drew back.

  ‘I tried, but she keeps pushing me out.’

  Shane bit his lip, his eyes earnest through those thick eyelashes. ‘You did your best. That’s all that matters.’

  But we both knew it wasn’t. Not for Avery, and certainly not for me. It was just something to say when we had nothing else.

  He laced his hands through mine and kissed me. The room fell away as I watched his face, memorising every mole.

  Tingles swept through my lips and down my spine. This might be our last kiss.

  Shane tightened his arms around me, and for the first time, it didn’t dispel the ghosts wandering my mind.

  In a few hours, I’d know my fate.

  I pulled out of the kiss.

  Shane stroked my cheek, his eyes soft and shiny. He felt this as much as I did.

  ‘Are you hungry? We brought pastries.’ Shane’s smile drooped when I shook my head.

  My stomach was jumping and twisting like a mashup between bad food and a roller coaster. Spirit wanted to warn me about what was coming. But I already knew it wouldn’t be good. I’d rather enjoy the minutes I had left with Shane than focus on what came next.

  Lyall, can I turn off my hunches? Or dismiss them, like an alarm?

  Is it bad?

  My gut is bungee jumping over a cliff and pinging back again at full speed.


  Lyall cocked his head but didn’t add anything useful. I didnae ken why that surprised me anymore.

  Fine.

  ‘Come on, let’s get set up,’ I said, opening the door.

  I’d said my goodbyes as well as I could. The longer we lingered in here, the harder it’d be to face the courtroom.

  * * *

  The rubberneckers had packed into the courtroom, shoulder to hip all the way to the back, blocking the main doors. They’d have filled the aisle and the space in front of the coven, too, if Tibor wasn’t keeping a strong eye on them.

  No doubt the same crowd that would’ve religiously attended public executions.

  Tibor’s hood was down, but the rest of the coven still hid beneath theirs, and the courtroom was as medieval as ever. More like a grand performance than a fair trial. A flimsy attempt to justify their judgement.

  And I so wished I could snap, tell them exactly what I thought. But Justin’s real killer was still out there. And the McKees were still holding women prisoner. If they got rid of me, no one could help them. So I had to get through this. For them. And that meant doing everything I could to seem reasonable, innocent, however hard it was to bury my feelings.

  Tibor spread his hands for quiet. ‘Ms Bianca Nash, please take the stand.’

  I blew out my breath and walked in.

  ‘Do you understand you’re present to hear the coven’s judgement for the accused crime of murder?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. We have studied the evidence provided by the defence and the prosecution. Today we judge whether you are guilty or not guilty. A simple majority carries the judgement. Nina, please begin.’

  A petite woman on the far left of the long table stood.

  Her voice boomed through the courtroom. ‘I find Ms Bianca Nash guilty.’

  The words slammed into me, stealing my breath.

  The next, much taller, coven member stood. Perseus. ‘I find Ms Bianca Nash guilty,’ he drawled.

  My fingers twitched. Of course he’d want me gone. Russell would’ve told him what I had the ability to See, and how I could ruin their arrangement.

  The next coven member stood. He cleared his throat, but his voice was so quiet I strained to hear him.

  ‘I find Ms Nash not guilty.’

  My heart beat double-time. Did I hear him wrong? I squinted into the shadows of his raised hood for what moved him, but he sat quickly, sending him farther into shadow.

  The coven members on his right swung round to look at him. And for once the crowd behind me weren’t watching me.

  We’d swayed one. Or the Delvauxs had.

  But I hardly had time to process that before the next coven member stood.

  ‘Ms Nash is guilty.’

  My chest constricted. Then again, maybe it was a fluke.

  The next coven member stood. ‘On the evidence provided, I find her not guilty.’

  Yes! Two for three. I clasped my hands so tight my knuckles shook.

  The frail old man to the left of Tibor stood, holding the table to keep himself steady.

  ‘Ms Nash is guilty,’ he said.

  My insides writhed, though I expected him to judge me guilty. We’d researched each member of the coven thoroughly, and he’d lost most of his family to the Wildes Rebels.

  Tibor was next, but he looked to his left. He wouldn’t give his judgement as coven leader unless there was a split vote.

  I nibbled on my lip. If it came to that, I had no idea which side he’d choose.

  ‘Graham?’ Tibor prompted.

  The large man heaved to his feet. ‘Ms Nash is not guilty.’

  He plopped back into his seat.

  I smiled. Thank you, Graham.

  The five people on his left were not giving any sign which way they’d go. And I needed four of them for a majority.

  I don’t think we can do it.

  You don’t know that.

  The next woman stood. ‘I cannot in good conscience convict when there is another, un-investigated suspect. Therefore, Ms Nash is not guilty.’

  I counted along the coven. We were even. Four for four. A tingle of warmth spread through my cheeks. Could we do this?

  The next coven member stood. She’d lost much of her family to the Wildes Rebels, too. ‘I find her guilty.’

  The crowd behind me blew out their breath, but I held mine. We were so close.

  Another man stood. ‘Ms Nash is guilty.’

  Tears washed over my vision, my throat choking up. They only needed one more guilty verdict, and I was a murderer. By law. On the record forever as Justin’s killer.

  Tibor cleared his throat and gestured for the next person.

  The last two were some of the more minor members of the coven, with families with many Animalis members. They didn’t have such a close connection to the Wildes Rebels massacres or the elite families, so maybe… My heart squeezed. Maybe we could do this.

  The first stood. ‘Ms Nash cannot be convicted for her ancestors’ crimes. She is not guilty.’

  She looked out over the courtroom, then reclaimed her seat, the man on her left rising as she sat.

  ‘I agree with Hazel. Ms Nash is not guilty.’

  The squirming in my stomach finally settled, so suddenly I numbed. Tibor had the casting vote.

  The candle beneath me flickered with my quick breaths. In… out. In… out. There. Back under control. They’d relish any sign of weakness now.

  Tibor stood and surveyed the public pews, then met my eyes. ‘It seems the decision is mine.’

  He frowned and glanced to each side. ‘I did not think the vote would be so mixed but I recognise there are clear flaws with the WMCF’s investigation. Ms Nash is the most likely suspect, but this case was not yet ready to go to trial.’

  He shook his head at the WMCF liaison sitting behind the prosecution. ‘On that basis, I must find Ms Nash not guilty.’

  I could barely breathe.

  ‘Julian, what does this mean?’

  Julian stayed me with his hand. But what did we have to wait for? I wasn’t guilty.

  The public erupted, baying for my death, for a just punishment, whatever that was.

  My mind was loud, too. How did we do it? Had the Delvauxs come through for me again, or had Julian convinced the coven there may be another suspect?

  The prosecutor waved her hands around, nostrils flaring as she snapped the head off the WMCF liaison.

  I smirked. What a shame. Her narrative had tumbled down. I wouldn’t be returning to my concrete cell. I swallowed around a lump in my throat. I’d be free.

  Tibor waved his hands for quiet, but the crowd wouldn’t listen.

  ‘Enough!’ he shouted over them, his neck reddening from the shoulders up.

  It must be a rarity for a man who’d ruled the coven unopposed for ten years to face dissent like this.

  You think high society will throw him that anniversary party after this?

  Maybe. They like their gatherings. It’ll only be slightly more fake than normal.

  Tibor slammed his fist on the table.

  Some of the crowd jumped, and I could hear him again.

  ‘With a new suspect in play, we cannot convict Ms Nash. However,’ he met the prosecutor’s eyes, ‘in exceptional circumstances, where compelling new evidence is found, and where the case is in the public interest, as this is, a retrial is possible.’

  I grabbed Justin’s arm, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

  ‘What about double jeopardy? If I don’t admit guilt, how can they try me again?’

  ‘It’s like the UK system. If the new evidence is strong enough, the prosecution can get a retrial. But under witch law, retrials can only take place within a year of the original acquittal.’

  My mind spun, trying to pick the useful parts out of his legal speak. I rubbed my eyes until I saw stars.

  ‘So they have a year.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I shook my head. ‘Russell will fabricate somethi
ng relevant in a few months at most.’

  Julian’s lips thinned. ‘It’s likely.’

  He’d seen how much evidence went ‘missing’. He knew what our chances were.

  The prosecutor stood. ‘I’ve spoken to the WMCF. They will reopen the case and pursue a retrial at the earliest opportunity. But you cannot let a suspected murderer run free.’

  Julian stood. ‘Bianca has already spent weeks in jail, much of it without representation, for a crime she didn’t commit. She’s innocent. There’s no precedent for imprisoning someone after an acquittal, whether you think the WMCF will find evidence warranting a double jeopardy exception or not. You can’t lock her up based on your theories.’

  ‘It’s more than a theory. She has motive,’ the prosecutor snapped.

  The crowd cheered her on, like a bloody pantomime. They couldn’t decide my fate like this.

  ‘Julian…’

  His eyes were slits. ‘Does she? That relies rather heavily on Mr Murphy over my witness, doesn’t it? Mr Holt and Ms Nash were friends and co-workers. She had no reason to kill him. He was planning to support her defence, not the prosecution.’

  His hands were fists. He’d taken my side. In front of everyone.

  I tugged his sleeve. ‘Sit, please.’

  I didn’t want him to lose work over this. Defending me was one thing. Giving me his personal support was another.

  ‘Stop.’ Tibor pinched his nose. ‘We’re not having this conversation here. Meet me in the coven’s chambers. Both of you. This session will reconvene once we decide how to best deal with Ms Nash returning to civilian life.’

  Tibor shook his head at the rowdy crowd and led the coven out of the courtroom.

  Julian took my elbow and guided me out the back doors.

  I was glad for the help, because my mind was swarming. Seeing where I was going hardly seemed to matter. But Julian steered me through the corridors expertly, back to the meeting room where Shane was pacing in front of the table. How he got there through the crowd ahead of us, I had no idea.

  Julian gently pushed me towards him. ‘You two wait here. I’ll talk to Tibor.’