Now Krista and I each sat on one of the hotel room’s beds, like a pair of kids shrinking under waves of verbal parental outrage. Well, kind of shrinking. I was doing most of the shrinking. Krista was stress-eating cupcakes out of the black and pink striped box, carefully peeling off the wrappers as she watched Eric go. I glanced between them, at his gestures getting crazier and her eyes getting wider, until he finally stopped, glaring at both of us.
“The first rule of rescue is don’t become another hostage!” he said. “I thought you guys were smart enough to know that without being told.
He didn’t immediately take a breath, and I took advantage of the silence to turn the rant into a conversation.
“It’s not that we didn’t know. It’s just that my desperation to find Helena kind of outweighs my sense of self-preservation at this point.”
Eric slid his hands into his own hair and clenched it, walking in a rapid circle, as if that were the only thing keeping him from simply exploding.
“I understand that, Park, but when you get weird-ass info-drops in your pocket, you call me! We get information. We don’t go in blind and we don’t take mundanes into situations where we might get into magic fights.”
Krista made an inelegant noise. “I would love to see you try and stop me.”
Eric jabbed his finger at her. “Don’t challenge my willingness to handcuff you to a pipe in the bathroom.
Krista jerked her chin back in offense. “See if I share my cupcakes with you, Grumpy.”
“This is serious,” Eric snapped.
I winced. I knew it was serious, and I knew Krista knew it too. But there was definitely something lost in translation between their two personalities. Luckily, my best friend didn’t need me to step in and mediate for her. Her eyes narrowed, and she dropped her hand back into the cupcake box.
“I know it’s serious! It’s kind of the most serious thing that’s ever happened in my entire fucking life—if I start acting as scared as I fucking feel, I’m not going to be any help to anyone. And she’s one of my best friends. So lighten up and eat a fucking unicorn.”
Eric looked slightly mollified, but still frowned at her. “Unicorns aren’t real,” he said.
In reply, Krista pulled a cupcake from the box. It had a unicorn-shaped chocolate horn, dusted with shimmery gold, embedded in a swirl of glittery rainbow frosting.
“Oh,” Eric said. After a pause, he sighed and took the cupcake, examining it before pulling out the horn. “So you met Drewery Teague. Is she as terrifying as they say?”
I sucked in a breath through my teeth and looked at Krista, not sure how to answer. “I mean, physically? No. But she’s kind of like...an evil, middle-aged Tinkerbell. And it seems like she’s kind of got dirt on everybody.”
“Yeah, that’s about what I’ve heard. So. Tell me this incredibly stupid and dangerous endeavor at least got you some information.”
I launched into an explanation as Eric devoured his cupcake. It was a strange sight—such a big dude, brow pinched as he devoured a glittery confection with unfocused eyes.
“The crazy part is, I think it’s happening in this hotel, in one of the ballrooms on the fifth floor,” I said.
Krista selected one of the teacup-poodle cupcakes, and pulled off the marzipan poodle. “Which is kind of weird. Why do you need a whole ballroom for a trial?”
Eric gave a bitter laugh and chucked his cupcake wrapper in the trash can under the desk. “I forget how clueless you guys are about the magical community.” He leaned back against the desk and looked up at the ceiling, gathering his words for a minute. “This is a massive trial, I mean seriously huge. In importance as well as size. Half the sorcerers in the country are coming to watch the proceedings.”
I tensed. “That’s...not good news. Jesus, how many showed up for Gwydian’s?”
“About fifty,” he said. “Less than that, actually, since his trial wasn’t controversial. Everyone wanted him gone, and no one was in a hurry to be in a room with the guy. Helena, though?” Eric shook his head. “Big damn controversy. She’s done a lot of good, and she’s a d’Argent. That matters more to a lot of people than a defensive use of sanguimancy.”
His hands clenched on the edge of the table. I didn’t like the troubled look on his face, the unsure way he seemed to be treating our next steps. “A significant percentage of sorcerers already think we should be able to fight fire with fire when it comes to sanguimancy, and I guarantee you, they’re all gonna show up. Randolph is having to call in Enforcers from the West Coast, because the attendance list was something like seven-hundred people at last count.”
I felt my face open up in surprise. “Wait, and that’s half? Or were you exaggerating?”
“No, that’s at least half. Maybe more. The community is not very large, despite how it might seem to you, having been in the thick of our conflicts for the past however-many months. There are a little over fourteen-hundred Guild Sorcerers in the whole of North America. It’s why this trial is so big. There aren’t many of us.”
“But with that many sorcerers, the vigilantes can’t think they’d win any kind of attack,” I said. I scooted off the bed, feeling both more hopeful and more hopeless. “But then again, doesn’t that mean we’re kind of screwed too?”
Eric crossed his arms. “Not necessarily. The vigilantes aren’t going to be idiots about it. My guess is they’ll have people scattered along the route to Randolph’s as lookouts. They’ll tail the group until they’re far enough away to isolate them, and hit her with as many attacks as they can.”
Krista set aside her cupcake box, looking a little green, though I couldn’t tell if that was from worry or overindulgence. “Shouldn’t we tell them about it, then? I mean...”
“No, we should use the attack as cover,” I said. “It’s the perfect diversion. In all the chaos, she and I can transform and run to...what?”
Eric’s face had gone ashen, which was tough for someone with his skin tone. His adams apple bobbed. “Helena isn’t going to be transforming.”
“Did they use that dampener on her?”
I did not like the look on his face after that. It was almost...haunted.
“No,” he said, in a voice like rolling gravel. “They...damaged her tattoo. She can’t transform.”
I didn’t want to hear the finality in that. I didn’t want to think about what it meant. For her, for me. For the Guild.
“Like...at all?” I said. “Ever?”
“Yeah.”
My face went cold. I sat back down on the bed and considered putting my head between my knees. “Fuck,” I said, and settled on leaning my head into my hands. “Okay,” I said, desperately fighting the reaction that wanted to come. “Okay.... Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Eric said. “My thoughts exactly.”
Krista’s legs appeared as she slid off the other bed and pivoted, coming to sit next to me. She didn’t put her arms around me or anything, but she leaned, pressing her shoulder against mine. “Anything else important we should know?” she asked. “Do the vigilantes have nuclear codes? Machine guns? Demon slaves from another plane?”
“No, they don’t. Well, maybe machine guns, but I doubt that’s going to be their style of attack.”
I gave a humorless chuckle.
“There’s a complication, though.”
I lifted my head. “You mean besides the terrifyingly badass Enforcer Sergeant as her honor guard and a group of maniacal vigilantes bent on killing her before she can get to tribunal? Oh, and her lack of ability to transform?”
“Another complication,” Eric said. He took in another big breath and looked between us. “I can’t be seen to help.”
Krista frowned. “What happened to ‘dampener and slap on the wrist’?” she said. “Are you wussing out?”
“No, I am not wussing out. But given all that I learned from Randolph and all that you learned from Drew, we need a backup plan. In case we can’t get her free.”
I didn’t want to he
ar this. I didn’t want to entertain the idea that we might not be able to spring her, and that she might end up all the way in Istanbul where I couldn’t get to her.
“I’m assuming you’ve already got this plan B figured out?” Krista said.
Eric nodded, looking toward the hotel room window like he’d rather dive out of it than do whatever he was contemplating for Plan B.
“Politics,” he said.
“Politics,” I repeated. “Like, a Free Helena Martin campaign? Occupy Istanbul?”
“Bigger.” He pushed off the desk, taking a few strides over to the window and peering through it, out over the reflections on the darkened harbor. “I’m talking about a paradigm shift. The Guild has operated in extremes for years. When communication was tough and local Guild chapters didn’t get much support, it made sense to have easy-to-understand guidelines without much nuance. But now, the Guild is more connected than ever. People in general are more willing to see the world in shades of gray. There are lots of problems that the Guild’s laws don’t even try to address. And all that needs to change.”
A bubbling heat was starting beneath my sternum. I did not like how broad this was getting. We had to save Helena now—it seemed like the big-picture problems needed to wait until later. “So you want to use Helena as the turning point for your political agenda?”
Eric sighed, and let his forehead bang gently against the glass. “No, Park. I want to help her. And others like her. Like Kelly, and you. People who fall into that gray area.”
“That’s great,” Krista said, her hand going to my arm, as if afraid I was going to jump up and punch Eric. To be fair, I was kind of thinking about it. “But plan A is still rescue, right?”
“Yes,” Eric said. “Plan A is get her the hell away from here. But I’m going to need the two of you to do it without me, because I plan to be part of the escort party.”
I drew a calming breath, trying to cool the heat still bubbling in my chest. “Fine.”
“Out of curiosity,” Eric added. “What did you have to tell Drew to get her to reveal all that information?”
I winced. “You’re going to need another cupcake.”
Chapter 27
helena
The morning of the trial, Enforcer Randolph escorted me through a dozen different cars. Halfway through, we shrugged into light jackets, and after the last car, walked for two blocks until we reached the Renaissance Harborplace Hotel. By that time, three other Enforcers flanked us. I didn’t recognize any of them, which was probably for the best—had De Vries been there, I wasn’t certain I could keep my boots to myself.
We took the Elevator up to the fifth floor, which opened out in a vast atrium with a bar and attached restaurant. The hotel was one of those skyscrapers that only utilized the perimeter of the building for rooms. Gallery-like walkways looked out over the open air stretching down to the lobby. This fifth-level atrium had the most floor space, but there was still a cut-out center protected by a plastic barrier. I wondered how hard a landing would be from that height.
I strained my ears, listening for a fountain, but the din of chattering hotel guests interfered too much. I was happy to see my trial wouldn’t take place in the back room of a Denny’s. I was less happy to see that we were heading for what appeared to be a massive ballroom.
There were more Enforcers everywhere. I spotted them in the sixth and seventh floor galleries, lounging in the bar area, and standing on either side of the ballroom doors. None of them were carrying openly, except for one Enforcer who was dressed in a black uniform.
It took me a moment to recognize De Vries. I’d gotten used to him out of uniform. I bristled at the sight of him and, as if my contempt were a magnet, his glacial gaze snapped to my face. I saw the flex of his jaw when he saw me.
Randolph clicked the falter in my steps and put a hand on my back.
“Be smart, d’Argent,” he said.
I swallowed, but it did nothing to decrease the anger boiling up my throat.
This was the man who had taken everything from me, who had unmade me. I didn’t even know who I was without the hound spirit, much as I’d hated the man who’d shackled it to me.
I tore my eyes from De Vries—it was the only way to keep sane—but I was hyper-aware of him as we approached. He stood there, a dark presence looming in my periphery, and when I strode past him into the ballroom, I could almost feel the heat radiating off him.
Every hair on my body stood on end, as if he were a thunderstorm charging my skin and I was lightning, about to strike. The static lingered on the back of my neck as I stepped into the light of the massive room, dense with chairs and bodies, and the ozone smell of magic.
This time, Enforcer Randolph allowed me a moment to take it all in. There had to be nearly a thousand people in the ballroom, and every one of them had a glow of magic about them, as if they were a wad of densely-tangled Christmas lights on a low setting. I hadn’t realized they were talking—I hadn’t heard them until I stepped through the door, which must have been warded for privacy. In fact, there were wards everywhere, glowing on ceiling and wall and floor. Many of the sorcerers had personal wards shimmering, primed, on their skin.
A few people turned as the door shut behind me, and with a rippling whisper, talk in the room quieted like a receding wave. Then everyone was turning, a thousand pairs of eyes finding me in the tenuous silence. Suddenly, I could feel nothing but my heart hammering against my sternum.
Enforcer Randolph’s hand met my back. I took a step forward, weighed down by all those gazes, some of them friendly, some of them not. I couldn’t tell which, and I didn’t look back. I kept my eyes trained ten feet ahead, on the pattern of the carpet, until I stood before a long table at the head of the room, and all the sorcerers were behind me.
All but twelve.
I lifted my gaze, morbidly curious about the men and women who would decide my fate. None of them were young. There was a decent distribution of apparent-ages, though most appeared to be at least in their forties. My eyes stopped two thirds of the way down the table, at the sight of a gorgeous Indian woman in a purple and gold sari. Deepti! I nearly took a step toward her, but caught myself at the last second. I probably wasn’t supposed to approach the Twelve, lest it appear threatening.
But I hadn’t known Deepti was one of them. I guess it made sense for the leader of the Midwestern Guild to also be the judicial representative from that area. I’d just assumed the jobs were separate.
She met my eyes, a small line appearing between hers as she studied me. I had no doubt she’d been briefed on my new, shiftless status. I probably also looked like shit from the blood loss I had yesterday. Despite the female Enforcer who’d helped me brush and braid my hair this morning, I probably looked like a sunken-eyed drug addict.
A wide-faced black man at the center of the Twelve’s table stood up. He wore an indigo jacket with something silvery pinned to the lapel.
“Bow,” Enforcer Randolph said behind me.
I didn’t ask. I just bent at the waist a few inches and hoped that was respectful enough.
I could hear the breath of a thousand individuals behind me, could feel their gazes on the back of my neck, could smell their sweat and the tureen of coffee set up somewhere in the back. I smelled my own anxiety.
The indigo-jacketed man gave me a nod, adding in just enough shoulder that I knew I was to interpret it as a return bow.
“The Twelve leaders of the North American Guild acknowledge Apprentice Sorceress Helena d’Argent,” he said, in a voice as broad as his face. “Do you acknowledge that you are she?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I am Sorcerer Erebus James, head of the Ontario Guild and speaker for the Twelve.” The words caught in the corners of the room, and in the empty spaces between chandelier’s glittering crystals, setting them gently tinkling. “You stand before us today, accused of crimes against the good nature of magic. Have you been made aware of the charges laid against you.”
“What is your plea of trial?”
I paused, uncertain quite what that meant. I’d never been in a normal courtroom, but on the rare cases I’d seen one on TV, they’d asked the question differently. “I...um, not guilty?”
Enforcer Randolph sighed behind me, and there was a series of titters through the crowd behind me. I hadn’t spoken very loud, but there was probably some way to amplify what was being said across the crowds. That or the chain of whispers I heard was passing my answer to the back rows.
“Sorceress d’Argent,” he said—and damn, was that strange to hear. “Clearly, you are unaware of our court’s proceedings. I understand this is not your fault. You may make a plea for one of the following methods of trial: a Plea for Trust, a Plea for Investigation, or a Plea for Leniency.”
I absorbed the words, and though I had some guesses about their meaning, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take that for granted. I felt heat wash up my neck, and I couldn’t decide whether it was embarrassment or anger, or a bit of both. Why hadn’t anyone told me about the niceties of a Sorcerers’ Guild trial? Had they simply forgotten? Or was it part of the strategy—show everyone just how ignorant I was of magical law, so maybe they’d go easy.
“I’m...not sure what those mean,” I answered. “I mean, in the context of a trial.”
Sorcerer Erebus nodded, and sat down again, smoothing the papers in front of him. “Clearly, you are unaware of our court’s proceedings. I understand you turned yourself in to Enforcer De Vries before Sorceress Iyengar could properly prepare you for the process.”
I swallowed and avoided Deepti’s eyes. It reminded me that the last time I’d seen her, I’d promised to run away with Jaesung. Not turn myself in. What must she be thinking now? Probably that I was a moron.
“Yes,” I said.
Sorcerer Erebus nodded. “A Plea for Trust means that the council will vote without presentation of evidence, based on their current evaluation of your character.”
UNMAKE (Spellhounds Book 2) Page 20
