Vengeance (The Sorcerers' Scourge Series Book 3)

by Michael Arches

  Rand glanced around the room, including looking at the exit doors. They were a good fifty feet away from him, and one of his deputy buddies was standing next to the door with a gun on his hip.

  The clerk started playing a disk on the large screen close to both the jury box and the witness stand. The image shook for a second and then steadied. It showed the back of my parents’ house. A sheriff’s cruiser was parked behind the house, and the only person visible was Cantor holding his billy club.

  Nicky motioned to the clerk who froze the image.

  “Deputy Rand, do you recognize that man?”

  “Uh, not sure. He’s kinda far away.”

  He was about a hundred yards away, but I recognized the gangly, gray-haired sorcerer immediately as Cantor. Most of the courtroom must’ve recognized him, too.

  “Is that the O’Rourke family farm that burned?” Nicky asked.

  Rand swallowed a couple of times. He had to know he was fucked, but he said, “No, I don’t think it was.”

  I glanced at the jurors, and every one of them was paying close attention.

  Nicky motioned for the video to proceed, and a few seconds later, my parents ran out the back door holding hands.”

  The clerk froze the image again.

  “Deputy, do you recognize the couple?”

  They were facing us and clearly visible. Rand had worked for the sheriff’s department for over a decade, and he must’ve seen them dozens of times, like I’d seen him that often. Lying wasn’t going to help him now.

  “They look like the O’Rourkes,” Rand said.

  That’s when the nightmare became horrifying. Nicky took everyone through the murders of my parents, my brother, and his twin daughters. Nicky stopped the video repeatedly to force Rand to lie about recognizing anyone, including Escobar. The only sound came from the thunder produced by lightning bolts and my reactions of gasping to vomiting.

  Rand stubbornly denied understanding any of it until he saw himself drive up in a second police cruiser, take a can of gasoline out of his trunk, and pour it on the siding at the back of the house. By then, Rand refused to speak altogether.

  My whole body trembled with rage, particularly as I saw Escobar running out of the barn and laughing after killing my sister-in-law, Carol.

  Felicity leaned over and spoke in a low voice. “Control yourself. Exploding won’t help you here or in punishing Escobar.”

  I understood her and pushed my hatred into the emotional part of my mind to use against my main target.

  When the video ended, the judge said, “Members of the jury, I remind you that you are not to talk about this case to anyone outside of this courtroom. You are excused until tomorrow morning.”

  Rand tried to stand, but the judge said, “The witness will remain seated.”

  As soon as the jury was gone, the judge motioned for the two bailiffs in the courtroom to approach. “Take Deputy Rand into custody and hold him in the county jail on a conspiracy to commit murder charge.”

  The bailiffs took Rand away. As they did, the judge said, “Counsel and the defendant will come to my chambers.”

  After he closed his office door, the judge sat behind his desk. The rest of us stood before him.

  “I’m moving for a mistrial, judge,” Brent said.

  Nicky started to object, but the judge held up his hand.

  “Forget it,” the judge said. “I’m not giving you a do-over because one of your major witnesses got caught lying his ass off. I’ve warned you previously about my doubts regarding Rand’s veracity.”

  “I had no idea that this happened,” the DA said.

  “You should’ve,” Nicky replied. “Ian gave a full interview about these events to a Boulder newspaper months ago. You don’t research the defendants you charge with murder?”

  Brent blushed. “One of my staff mentioned something about O’Rourke’s allegations, but the article contained no proof.”

  “You have your proof now,” Judge Matthews said. “Take until tomorrow morning to decide whether you intend to proceed with the trial. Jeopardy has attached, and if you don’t put on some evidence tying Mr. O’Rourke to Cantor’s murder, I’ll direct an acquittal at the close of your case.”

  Brent nodded.

  “By the way,” Nicky asked, “what kind of deal did you give Simon Red Calf for testifying?”

  The DA blushed. “For truthful testimony implicating this defendant, the current charge against Red Calf would be dismissed.”

  “A complete walk on armed robbery?” Nicky practically yelled. “That’s outrageous!”

  “Settle down, counsellor,” the judge said. “No jury here. But Mr. Star, there’s no way I’d approve such a generous deal. Armed robbery is a very serious crime. You’d better talk to your witness overnight and explain that he will still do several years of prison, at a minimum.”

  With that, the judge waved us all out of his chambers. I walked with Nicky and Felicity out into the parking lot, and most of my supporters were waiting there, milling about.

  Grandpa stepped forward. “What happened? Is the case over?”

  Felicity said, “The prosecution’s case is hanging by a thread. The judge is insisting that the plea bargain Red Calf got must include several years of prison. The judge denied a mistrial, and Ian won’t be forced to start over. We’ll resume tomorrow, but the judge said he will end the case if the DA doesn’t put on better evidence about Ian’s supposed involvement.”

  Laura hugged me, and I wiped tears from her eyes. “Nicky was right about the video. He used it for maximum effect. Even if the judge lets the case go on, I can’t see how anyone would blame me for killing Cantor.”

  At least, I fervently hoped that was true.

  -o-o-o-

  Wednesday, July 31st

  FOR A CHANGE, THE morning was cooler, and a nice breeze blew from the north. It would’ve been a perfect morning for a horse ride, except I was still on trial for murdering a cop.

  I don’t know how it was possible, but more of my kin showed up for the trial today. The gallery was packed, with a dozen people standing in the back. Grandpa and Grandma sat with Simon’s parents front and center, scowling.

  When the judge resumed the trial banging his gavel, he looked at the DA.

  Brent stood and held out his hands, palms up. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Red Calf, and he has invoked his right to remain silent. The people hereby move to dismiss the indictment against Ian O’Rourke. The prosecution reserves the right to charge others for the murder if warranted by evidence.”

  “The charges against Ian O’Rourke are hereby dismissed in their entirety,” Judge Matthews said. “The court apologizes to the defendant for the obvious distress this prosecution caused. Court is recessed.”

  He pounded his gavel and left the bench.

  -o-o-o-

  Samuel Sitting Bear’s farm, Osage County, Oklahoma

  GRANDPA WAS KIND ENOUGH, and relieved enough at the outcome, to throw a fabulous barbecue for me and all my well-wishers. We celebrated all day, and late in the evening, the Boulder contingent took a charter flight from Tulsa to one of the general aviation airports close to home.

  On the plane, I was sitting next to Laura. She asked, “What next?”

  I’d been thinking about that since seeing the video. I couldn’t get the image of Escobar out of my mind as he ran out of the barn while waving his staff in the air and laughing. He’d just killed Carol, and the bastard was having the time of his life.

  “Escobar deserves to die as painfully as Cantor did.”

  I felt her whole body stiffen. “Maybe,” but why do you have to be the one to do it?”

  “Grandpa and my uncles have been trying for two months, but Escobar’s too well protected.”

  Laura turned in her seat to face me, she put one hand on her swollen belly. “I don’t believe all this loose talk about you being the Chosen One. Diana can pay a witch assassin to get rid of him. Through your fighting, she has raked in hundreds of
thousands of dollars. That’s more than enough to cover the cost.”

  I reached over with my hand and gently stroked her cheek. “Good point. When we get back, let’s ask her to do that.”

  -o-o-o-

  Thursday, August 1st

  Brigid’s Community Ranch, Boulder County, Colorado

  AFTER BREAKFAST, DIANA HELD a war council in one of the conference rooms with Sorcha, Katie, Crystal, Tess, Laura, and me.

  Sorcha began by saying, “To paraphrase Cato the Elder, Raul Escobar must be destroyed. The question is how?”

  Diana scanned the room. “Does anyone disagree with the goal?”

  Laura raised her hand. “He hasn’t bothered any of us since he saw what happened to his hired thug, Sitka. According to Samuel, Escobar remains holed up on an isolated ranch south of Denver. Why don’t we leave him in his self-imposed exile?”

  “Because sooner or later, he is sure to come after your husband again,” Tess said. “The national slayers’ council is offering a half a million dollars to anybody who can beat Ian.”

  That was news to me, but I’d been out of the loop on magical developments for a few weeks as I’d prepared for trial.

  “Why can’t we do the same thing?” I asked. “I’m willing to put up two hundred grand, if Diana will do likewise, to hire somebody to get rid of the regional slayer.”

  From the pained expression on Diana’s face, I could tell that she didn’t want to spend that kind of money. Who was I to second-guess her? She probably faced just as much risk from Escobar as I did. Even more important, she understood the nuances of the endless war between witches and sorcerers much better than I did.

  Most of them talked over the pluses and minuses of my proposal, but Sorcha didn’t speak, and neither did I. Those who did talk didn’t seem to be able to forge a consensus.

  Finally, Sorcha said, “We have the same problem that they do. There are relatively few witches for hire who are strong enough to take up arms against Escobar, and there are relatively few sorcerers powerful enough to defeat Ian. In both cases, the only magicians strong enough to do the task are already in charge of distant regions of this country. They have no incentive to risk their empires to resolve our battle for control here.”

  Nobody spoke for a minute as they digested her analysis.

  Then I asked, “What do we do?”

  Diana scowled. “There’s only one alternative: Ian will have to issue a territorial challenge to Escobar.”

  Sorcha nodded. “It is the only way.”

  Laura slammed her fist down on the table. “I am damn tired of everybody constantly throwing their problems onto my husband’s shoulders. He is not the Chosen One. Diana, you fight your own fucking battles and leave him out of it.”

  I reached for her fist and grasped it in my hand. “Sweet and gentle Laura is like a mama grizzly when she’s defending her family. Unfortunately, I’m the only one around here who has a chance of beating Escobar in a fair fight. But I’m not ready yet.”

  “You certainly are not,” Sorcha said, “despite having recovered your powers as they existed before the last battle with Sitka. That’s not enough.”

  Katie tapped the tabletop with a fingernail. “Diana needs to expend every effort to get Sequoia here to deepen Ian’s connection with the Infinite. Unless he learns how to transfer negative energy to the gods, he will not survive a fight with the regional slayer.”

  “Agreed,” Diana said. “I will get Sequoia here if I have to kidnap him myself.”

  “What about asking Gill to come, too?” I asked.

  Sorcha hissed.

  I patted her hand. “Not because you’ve failed. You’ve been a fantastic mentor. But we all know Gill will do anything to win, and he thinks out of the box.”

  “So do lunatics,” she muttered. “In this case, the lunatic almost managed to put you in the ground.”

  “Why don’t you ask the Mórrígan what she thinks?” Laura asked.

  We all smiled, knowing that my wife had boxed Sorcha in. The woman was not only a professor of theology, but she was also a world-renowned Druid priestess.

  She grumbled but headed for our outdoor shrine. Sorcha took a rolled-up cloth with two candles out of one of their protective box there and placed them on top of an altar made of marble. She lit the candles, and the fragrance of rosemary filled the air.

  My heart began to race as it always did during Celtic ceremonies. “I’ll be back in a moment, she said. We stood and waited. Sorcha returned wearing a white robe with a hood. She stood in front of the altar and began by bringing a small bell. She waved her hands and worked her way through a series of rites in Gaelic. At the end, she stood silently for a few minutes facing the shrine, her eyes closed.

  When she turned to us, she said, “Contact him, but be aware, I will have as little to do with him as is humanly possible. If Ian asks, he will come.”

  Gill refused to use the telephone, so Katie and I sent a secure message over the witch’s network. My fight with Escobar will happen soon. Not confident of success. I sure could use a clever trick or two from the old master.

  An hour later, his response said, “I figured you’d beg before now. I can come in three days. Make sure Katie stays.”

  When I delivered his message to her, she blushed. “He’s been complaining that I’ve left him alone too long. I keep telling him to get a hobby.”

  Her embarrassed smile told me something extra-special was going on between those two. “He’s fifty years older than you.”

  Her blush deepened. “This isn’t sexual. We’re merely close friends. He’s been very lonely without Marie, and we’ve been spending most of our time together. He’s very funny.”

  I put up my hands, palms forward. “I really don’t want to know.”

  Then I wandered away from her before she shared any more personal tidbits.

  While waiting for him to arrive, I continued my training with Don and Sorcha, and I spent half of my day working in Holly’s hospital. Plus, I ran for an hour each morning and meditated for another hour. It was a full schedule, and I spent the rest of my time with my family.

  Chapter 23

  Sunday, August 4th

  Denver International Airport, Denver, Colorado

  LAURA, CHRISTINA, KATIE, AND I waited outside of the escalator from the train between gates. People started pouring out of the exit from the security area. I craned my neck looking for the little guy.

  We were all excited, but I noticed that Katie seemed especially anxious. She was a beautiful woman, and she normally wore her long red hair in a braid that ran down her back. Today, she’d curled her hair and left it loose.

  When the stream of departing passengers slowed, I figured he’d be on the next train. But then the frail, bald, old man stepped off the escalator and almost tumbled, despite him using a cane. Gill was caught by Oran Byrne right behind him, who was holding two small bags.

  “Got you,” Oran said. “Use your cane for a change.”

  Gill held it with a trembling hand and walked forward.

  Katie waved, and when he saw us, he waved back.

  Gill hugged each of us in turn, and when he touched me, a memory flashed into my mind of him and me standing on a beach. I’d raised my hands over my head as I communed with the gods that day.

  He nodded at me. “Glad that made an impression. You attained your first spiritual connection with the gods that day.”

  Oran and I grabbed Gill’s luggage. They’d brought five bags, enough stuff for a long stay. Katie held Gill’s hand as we returned to the parking lot. She drove all of us back to Boulder, and along the way, Gill chatted like we’d never parted. I wiped tears from my eyes as he told one funny story after another. It was damned good to see him in such good shape.

  -o-o-o-

  Brigid’s Community Ranch, Boulder County, Colorado

  DIANA THREW A PARTY for Gill to welcome him back, and folks crowded around him to renew their acquaintance. Everyone but Sorcha, that is. S
he attended the party, but the two of them seemed to consciously avoid each other. That was fine. I had enough conflict in my life already, without mediating between those two people I really liked.

  When the celebration died down, Diana dragged Gill, Laura, Tess, Katie, Crystal, Sorcha, and me into a conference room for a strategy session.

  “Time is of the essence,” she said. “Ian seems to be close to his peak power now, and I have no idea how long that will last. Sorcha has done a remarkable job of restoring him to full strength. My first question is whether he’s strong enough now to defeat Escobar?”

  Sorcha spoke first. “Because I’ve never met Escobar, I cannot compare the two potential combatants. I do know that I’ve improved his fighting ability as much as I can for the foreseeable future.”

  Everyone turned to look at Gill, and I was curious about his assessment, too.

  “Much as it pains me to say it, I’ll admit Sorcha did a fine job in helping Ian.”

  Gill’s face was twisted, like he’d bitten down on a sour pickle.

  “Nevertheless,” I said, stating his unspoken reservation, “you doubt that I can get the job done, don’t you? Sequoia is coming later today, and maybe he’ll make the difference.”

  “Maybe,” Gill said. “What I’m noticing, though, is a lack of fire. Ian is pissed at Escobar, but not nearly enough. I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ian’s grandparents and all their surviving children to come. They’ll be here in two days, and they’ll bring in a few things I expect could get Ian’s inner fire blazing.”

  Sorcha scoffed, “Theatrics will be of little help. If he needs more magical power, perhaps we can arrange for a fight with a different sorcerer before he challenges the slayer.”

  Gill shook his head. “What I’m planning will give him all the juice he needs. Issue the territorial challenge today, demand an answer by tomorrow, and set the battle for four days from now.”