Dark Curse

by Kim Richardson

  Lisbeth sat in the middle of the row of throne-like chairs. The cowl of her heavy gray robe left most of her face in shadow, but her pale eyes were alight as they moved about the room and rested on me.

  But it wasn’t the hate I had expected boiling behind her eyes. It was triumph.

  Ah. Crap. I knew the old hag was up to something. What was she up to? It killed me that I was clueless. So far, she’d proven to be the better chess player, establishing her pieces so that regardless of what I did, she had forces ready to respond and destroy.

  I stilled my face, not wanting to let Lisbeth see how much her relaxed, winning demeanor was affecting me, and not in a good way. There was no sign of Ethan, Hannah, Miguel or James—Baldy and Lanky whose real names I’d learned from Layla. And that had my blood pressure rising as high as the building’s top floor.

  Energy crackled against my skin—the demonic energies from the other half-breeds and the tingling cold pricks of the handful of angel-born that stood in the aisle of seats around us—as I sat in one of the chairs facing the dais. Both cats sat on my lap, their body heat comforting, with Danto and Layla on either side of me.

  Layla was staring at Lisbeth with as much open hate and promise of violence as I was. One of the things I liked most about her was I could read her like an open book. She wasn’t a hypocrite. She was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of person. She was real.

  I’d been worried about her reaction to seeing Ethan and the others again after the prick had tried to kill her. But we’d been spared the family drama. For now.

  It was nearly midnight. The court should be starting any minute now. What the hell were they waiting for? The sound of hushed conversations was making me dizzy with the added tension and nerves. I needed a nice glass of wine, preferably poured by a glorious elf.

  The chamber was the size of a real courtroom and I was surprised to find it packed with all manner of half-breeds in gray uniforms that reminded me of Star Trek officers. Except for the caps. Damn. Those were some butt-ugly hats. They looked like Civil War kepi hats, only fouler, and wrong somehow.

  They all stood with their backs against the wall, watching. I knew who and what they were from their reputation. GHOSTS: Gray Council Higher Officers Supernatural Tactical Security, or what I liked to call, the paranormal police. They were brutal and enforced our laws, but I cared nothing for them or the laws they tried to enforce. I counted thirty of those gray bastards, an equal mix of male and female. This was my first time in court, so I had no idea if this many was normal or not. Maybe it was just a precaution in case Lisbeth acted out or tried something stupid.

  Either way it made me nervous.

  Then I heard a woman’s voice murmur something loudly over the buzzing conversations in the chamber.

  I glanced up at Lisbeth, who was conversing with one of the robed and hooded shadows. The pair of them stopped talking abruptly and turned, their attention focused on me.

  I flinched. Now I was sweating.

  “I don’t like this,” muttered Tyrius. My sentiments exactly. “Why is the old fraud still up there wearing a gray robe? Shouldn’t she be robeless and suspended or something?”

  “I know.” I narrowed my eyes, my stomach knotting into a hard ball until it almost hurt.

  “And she’s smiling,” said the cat. “Why the hell is she smiling? I’ll tell you why... because we’re screwed. Because she’s got something on us again. Because whatever this is—it’s her doing.”

  I cut a glance at Danto. “What the hell is going on?”

  The vampire’s jaw was clenching, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know.”

  “You said this was Lisbeth’s trial,” I hissed, and a man, werewolf by the stink of wet dog, turned around in the row to my right to stare at me. I glared at him until he faced the other way again.

  Danto’s brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair, thinking. “That’s what they made me believe. They said to bring you here and that everything would get settled.”

  “They lied.” Now I was pissed. I leaned forward and whispered to the vampire, “Something’s not right.” My eyes traveled back to the communal of GHOSTS. “We need to leave.”

  There was a sudden commotion and as a collective, the nine members of the Gray Council removed their cowls. Silence lay heavily in the chamber. And then one of the members, a black man who gave me the impression he was a witch from the dash of earth and pine I got from him, stood up.

  “Please be seated,” said the council member loudly from the dais, his deep voice bouncing through the chamber and silencing all the noise. He then brought his hands together in a clap, making me jump. A wave of force had echoed out of it. He was definitely a witch, and a very powerful one at that.

  Whatever this was, it had begun.

  “As the senior member of the Gray Council, it’s my responsibility to uphold and call forth these proceedings. We are gathered here tonight to resolve an urgent and troubling matter.” His dark eyes traveled over the heads of the seated until they rested on me and my heart gave a start. “Rowyn Sinclair, please stand up.”

  “Holy hell,” cursed Tyrius and my lips parted.

  Oh. Shit. “What the hell is this?” I was going to puke. I knew I was. Danto paled and looked like he was going to beat me too it.

  The vampire jumped to his feet, just shy of the dais, surprising the crowd into soft whispering. “May I approach the Gray Council?” he asked, his voice booming so he could be heard over the loud murmurs across the chamber.

  The senior council member looked down at Danto. “Danto de Luca. You will be allowed to speak on Rowyn Sinclair’s behalf after all the evidence has been viewed and witnesses have been heard.”

  Evidence? Witnesses? What the hell was going on?

  Danto’s expression was tight as he sat back in his chair, fury simmering in the backs of his eyes. But it was nothing compared to the deep rage that boiled in my core.

  I knew it. They were going to try and pin those half-breed murders on me. This was all Ethan. Or maybe Jax had betrayed me. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight. There was no real proof that I’d committed those crimes. Apart from my name carved into one of the victim’s chests...

  Crap. I was so screwed.

  The crowd stirred, most of the noise swallowed up by the space.

  I stood slowly, grabbing both cats and setting them on the chair behind me. My blood pressure rose like a tide as I faced the council, careful to keep my expression calm and blank. Souls help me.

  “The council has been made aware of a series of serious accusations involving a murder,” said the senior member. “Evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you, Rowyn Sinclair, were involved. As such, you stand accused of this crime,” he continued. “The council will bring forth evidence to the charges of murder. The defendant will have the opportunity to defend herself against these charges once the council has reviewed the evidence.”

  “Bullshit,” I whispered. I took a breath, feeling dizzy from all the excess anger that welled in my veins.

  I looked past the tall black man to the old cow sitting comfortably behind him. Lisbeth met my glare and gave me a confident smile, the same smile she’d bestowed upon me when she’d given me the first name on her list of kills.

  “Why do I get the feeling they’ve already made up their minds about you?” asked Tyrius his voice low, sharing my exact belief. “It feels like a witch trial. You know what happened to those witches. They’re dead.”

  “I know.” I would not let them kill me.

  “We should make a run for it. Now would be good time,” pressed the cat.

  I looked over my shoulder to the doors. The thirty GHOSTS stood by the double doors, blocking my only path of escape. They had planned this all along. The GHOSTS were there for me. Not for Lisbeth.

  “The Gray Council is now in session and would like to call its first witness,” expressed the tall black witch, and then he sat back down in his throne-like chair.

/>   The door behind me opened and closed and I turned to see a face that I recognized all too well. It was Steven Price’s mate, the pretty dark-skinned werewolf female who’d tossed the dark witch Grimoire into the fire. Next to her was a tall werewolf male that I’d know anywhere, the red werewolf I’d fought off that night at The Office of Chief Medical Examiner in New York. He had something in his hand enclosed in a transparent plastic bag. I didn’t have to look hard to know what it was. My hunting knife.

  Ah hell. This did not look good.

  4

  “Rowyn, we need to split!” urged Tyrius. “Like right now!” But I barely heard him as I watched the female werewolf stand before the dais on my right, the red werewolf guy next to her with my hunting knife.

  “Rowyn? Are you listening?” Tyrius poked my leg with his nails. “Rowyn!”

  I looked down at my friend, and my heart clenched at the fear and worry I saw in both cats’ eyes. “It’s too late.” My pulse raced, my heart desperately trying to pound its way out of my mouth.

  “You can fry them with your gift,” encouraged Tyrius, a hopeful grin on his face. “Easy peasy. They don’t know you have it. You should use it. Do it now before it’s too late.”

  “Not before one of those GHOSTS kills me in the process,” I said through gritted teeth. “There’re too many of them.” Granted I had this badass gift, but I still didn’t really know how to master it. I’d only used it that one time. What if I tried again and it wouldn’t come?

  I didn’t know why but my eyes flicked to Lisbeth. She was still watching me with a pleasant expression through the folds of her wrinkles. A curious expression crossed her face when she looked at my hands. And I knew at that moment Ethan had told her I had some kind of magic. But they didn’t know it was archdemon.

  “I don’t want you guys involved,” I said, yanking my attention back to the baals. “Whatever happens, this is my mess. I want you safe.” Preferably at the same spa where my grandmother was still enjoying herself. If they allowed cats, I was going to ship them by UPS Express.

  I swallowed my own dread. Defiance was my winning emotion and was made stronger by the panic in Tyrius’s eyes and the smell of fear that washed off both cats.

  The council could blame me all they wanted, but I’d fry all their asses if they touched a hair on my cats.

  “It’s a goddamn setup. That’s what this is,” growled Tyrius. “Demon balls. We should never have come here.”

  Danto’s head snapped in my direction. “Rowyn. If I had known... I’m sorry—”

  I silenced him with a shake of my head. I was too angry to say anything to him right now. Even though he thought he’d done well by me, he was still the one who’d lured me here. If it weren’t for the vampire, I wouldn’t be in this jam.

  That was bad. Really bad. My thoughts were rambling now, fear and stress making them scurry around like a frightened squirrel. I needed focus. I needed a plan. A slow panic made its way into my mind and I forced myself not to bolt towards those doors.

  I just had to pray that the truth would set things right. Damn, that sounded lame. When did I ever get a break? Never, that’s when. Gareth had said I had a special knack for trouble.

  God. I wish the elf were here...

  Layla shifted closer to me in her seat. “Do you want me to kick some ass?” She raised her brows and gestured with her eyes for me to look down at her high boots, where the tips of her daggers peeked between her skin and the leather. “Just say the word.”

  “We wait,” I said, my eyes on her face and seeing a piece of my anger seething behind her dark eyes. I was both surprised and grateful for her loyalty. “Just wait. I’ll get a chance to explain myself. They said so.” God I hoped so.

  And then Lisbeth was going to get it. But it would be my word against hers, and she was a Gray Council member, whereas I was just a grunt Hunter with a questionable reputation. I needed proof. And the only proof I had were the scrunched-up pieces of papers with the written names of the half-breed leaders she’d wanted me to kill. But they were back at my apartment, possibly in the trash.

  “You should have kept Lisbeth’s list of names,” said Tyrius, reading my mind. “I’m willing to bet she wrote those herself. The old broad is way too arrogant and secretive to have let someone else write them. If we had known this was a case against you, we could have better prepared for it.”

  Anger tightened my shoulders. “Looks like they wanted me unprepared.”

  Some of the crowd muttered, and I thought I heard “murderer,” but then silence came over the chamber as the senior council member raised his hand.

  “You may address the council with your claim,” said the council member as he gestured with his hand to the red-haired werewolf with my hunting knife.

  The werewolf turned and shot me a look that would have had men scurrying away screaming. “She killed Steven Price in cold blood,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “She murdered him. She came out of nowhere and killed our alpha.”

  The crowd stirred, responding with a matching ferocity. And I shifted in my seat. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  The female werewolf looked at me, and though it’s a tad cliché, if looks could kill, I’d be halfway to the Netherworld by now.

  The senior council member raised his hand slowly. Once the crowd became silent he continued, “And you are sure this is the person who killed Steven Price? Rowyn Sinclair, the Hunter?”

  The young werewolf bared his teeth in a snarl. “It’s her. I recognize her. And I’d never forget her smell. She killed him. Stabbed him in the head with this—” he raised my bagged hunting knife and got dramatic oohs and aahs from the crowd.

  “Rowyn,” Tyrius shifted nervously.

  “It’s okay,” I soothed, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my trembling hands. A cold shiver oozed down my spine. “Everything is going to be okay.” Yeah, I didn’t really think so.

  “Was there anyone else in the room apart from you and your pack members?” asked the senior council member.

  “No, it was just her,” said the werewolf. He’d probably not even seen Gareth before he used his elf dust to knock the wolf out cold.

  The council witch folded his hands on his lap. “And you saw her stab him?’

  The werewolf shifted on his feet. “I saw her standing over him with this knife. She was just about to—but we walked in on her.”

  The council member searched the werewolf’s face. “But you never actually saw her stab him?”

  “No,” he answered, and I heard an upheaval in the crowd. “She put a spell on us. Knocked us out cold with some magic so we wouldn’t see her do it. But she did. She killed him.”

  That had been Gareth, but there was no way in hell I was going to get him involved in this. Of course at that exact moment Steven’s mate chose to turn and glare at me.

  The senior council member made a sound in his throat. “The fact that you didn’t actually see Miss Sinclair do the actually killing does lessen your case against the accused.”

  The werewolf stepped towards the dais. “Here,” he said. “Check it for her fingerprints. It has her stink on it. We pulled it out of Steven’s head when we came to.”

  The witch took the bag with my knife and leaned back into his chair to converse with the other members. I couldn’t see Lisbeth’s face anymore, but I was pretty sure she was cheering the werewolf on.

  “I will check for prints,” said the male witch as he opened the bag and the knife flew out and hovered above him in a levitating spell. If I wasn’t scared shitless, I would have been seriously impressed.

  The male witch’s lips moved in a silent spell, and the knife lit up in a brilliant blue light, so brightly I had to blink the spots from my eyes. When the light finally diminished, I could clearly see blue spots along the handle and the blade of the hunting knife, fingerprints. My fingerprints.

  With the blade still hovering before the senior council member like it was held by some invisible strings, he inclined his head
towards me. “Rowyn Sinclair. Your hands if you please,” he said and waved me forward.

  “No.” I stood unmoving.

  The man raised his brows. “If you are innocent of this crime, you have nothing to fear. Let us see if your fingerprints match.”

  “It’s a waste of time. I know they match,” I answered and again the crowd roused around me.

  Danto stood up and moved to stand next to me. He leaned over and whispered, standing with his lips inches from my ear. “Rowyn, what are you doing?”

  I met the vampire’s gaze, his eyes wide and glinting with fear. “It’s my hunting knife. So my fingerprints are on it. That’s what they’d find. What am I going to do? Stand up and lie? So you see, it’s pointless. It’s my knife.” I flicked my gaze away from Danto’s intense stare before I lost it and did something stupid. Patience, Rowyn. Maybe it’ll all work out. Yeah, right.

  The senior council member said another spell and hunting knife disappeared back into the plastic bag. He set the dagger across his lap. “Rowyn Sinclair, are you admitting to killing an innocent half-breed? By admitting to this intentional murder that is willful and premeditated with malice, you are therefore in violation of our laws and will be charged.”

  “No, I’m admitting that it was self-defense.” I swallowed, my mouth dry, as the chamber erupted in noise. “I didn’t mean to kill Steven. It just happened.” Not exactly the truth, but this court was full of liars anyway, at least where Lisbeth was concerned. How did I know they weren’t all in this together with her? I didn’t.

  The council member bowed his head. “From what you are telling us, Steven Price attacked you and you killed him in self-defense. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I answered, not liking the incredulity in his tone.

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  Tyrius had been out cold too by Gareth’s spell, and I wouldn’t drag the elf into this, so I had basically no one.