by Patti Larsen
A relief. “That's great, Meems.”
“Sebastian, too,” she said. “They didn't want to wake you. But Sebastian said if you want him to testify he'll do whatever he can.”
“If the Council will allow it.” Sassafras grumbled over his bowl of tuna. “Testimony is supposed to end at sundown.”
“Considering the severity of the charges,” Charlotte said, “perhaps they can be swayed to accept late testimony.”
I wasn't holding my breath. “We'll have to wait and see.” I reached down and stroked Galleytrot's ears. He looked up at me, dark eyes bottomless. “Any word from Liam?”
He shook his head and sighed. “Nothing yet. He's searching everything though, just to be thorough. Hopefully he'll come up with something.” But we all knew, even if he did find something it would probably be too late.
A part of me was tempted to go to town hall, to visit my friend. But I didn't have time.
Not when Mom's freedom hung on everything happening today.
This time when we left the house we needed a cube van. I personally lifted Dad's effigy into the back of the truck and surrounded the diamond statue with family magic to cushion it just in case. Not that I really needed to. From what we could tell, the thing was nearly indestructible. But I didn't want to risk it, not after the terrible luck we'd had in the past.
Dad safely tucked into the truck, I hugged Quaid and let him go. He blew the horn as he pulled out, driving off with my father in the back and the male half of Charlotte's friends beside him.
Another pang of guilt joined the constant jabbing. I really needed to learn the werewolves’ names.
This ride to the mansion was a little more animated. Meira chatted with Sassafras, joined by Galleytrot's deep baritone and Charlotte's occasional answer. I couldn't bring myself to speak up, but found solace and a few moments of peace in their conversation.
Small joys can be found in the oddest places.
My entry into the Council chamber was met with silence. All talk ceased immediately, the echo of words just spoken hanging like ghosts in the air. I refused to allow the discomfort of the moment to stop me and proceeded as usual up to the dais and took my seat.
Tallah didn't take my hand today. Didn't look at me at all, in fact.
What the hell changed? Did she just, the night before, along with the other leaders, express her condolences, her willingness to help me no matter what?
Quite the about face. Maybe she’d reconsidered after a night pondering the long line of accusations and horrible things she'd heard about me and my family the day before. Still, I was a little hurt.
Time to share my disappointment.
“Good to know I have friends in this group,” I said at my most mild. “Ones who stand by me, are there to help. Otherwise, I'd feel like everyone had made up their minds without hearing the whole story.”
She twitched, looked momentarily guilty.
I arched one eyebrow at her. “Nice to know who you really are.”
She spun on me, eyes furious, but full of guilt. “How dare you?”
“Really?” I turned away, voice cold. “I was thinking the exact same thing about you.”
Well done, Gram said.
I just wished it made me feel better.
The Council members filed in, Batsheva practically pushing them forward. They were all seated in a bit of a rush. She looked flustered, annoyed and I hoped whatever plan of hers failed and caused her no end of pain.
The moment the doors sealed, her power flying around the room, I was on my feet.
“My list of witnesses.” It was a short one, considering all the witches the Dumonts dragged out. But hopefully mine would be more impactful without boring the crap out of everyone.
The secretary gestured, the list winging to his hands. He scowled down at it before turning to the Council.
“There are three witnesses here who cannot testify.” He wrote the names out in the air in blue fire. Sunny DeWinter. Frank Hayle. Sebastian DeWinter.
The Council stirred, the watching witches as well.
“Testimony cannot be heard after sundown.” Batsheva smiled at me. “Those are the rules.”
“Not so.” Violet was on her feet, a grim but determined look on her face. She didn't turn to me, but at least she was speaking up so I took it as a win. “There is precedent.”
The room hummed. “Prove your precedent.” Batsheva looked even more annoyed.
“In cases where death is a possible punishment, any and all witnesses must be heard.” She gestured, a large book appearing before her, wavering and unreal as though the image of it was all that hovered before her. She waved at it, flipping pages until she nodded and gestured above her. Text appeared as she spoke.
“One hundred and fourteen years ago, coven leader Moira Abernathy was accused of blood magic use, by a vampire, using his blood. That vampire was permitted to testify against her after dark.”
“Perhaps in accusation,” Batsheva snapped. “But there is no precedence in defense.”
Violet's eyes flew wide, face paling. “Are you saying in the eyes of this Council the accused has fewer rights than the accusers?”
Score one for the home team. How fickle these witches. I felt them sway toward Violet, back toward my side. I just wished I didn't need them.
“My witnesses will testify,” I said, voice calm and cold. “The moment the sun goes down.”
I knew she wanted to protest, to do something to keep me from getting what I wanted, but even Batsheva wasn't immune to the feeling in the room.
“Very well,” she said. “This Council is nothing if not compassionate. Your witnesses shall be heard.”
I didn't bother acknowledging my victory, just sat down again and did my best to keep from clenching my hands together in my lap.
The secretary shrugged and turned back toward the middle of the room. “Bring in the accused.”
Mom was as poised as usual, taking her place with casual grace. She'd been forced to stand the entire time and I felt my face heat from the slight. I was on my feet again, feeling my anger get the better of me, but no longer able to watch.
“Are we so cruel toward someone who is yet to be convicted we make her stand for hours while the rest of us sit on our soft behinds?” I pushed my seat back, away from me, the sound of it grating over the floor loud in the quiet.
No one moved or spoke, though Mom's smile widened just a little.
Tallah stood first, though her face was still unreadable. Violet joined her, Irene next until only Benita and Odette remained seated. Benita waffled, face red as she tried to read the room. The gathered witches looked embarrassed, ashamed.
Good.
I glared at the Council, letting them have the full weight of my disapproval, whatever such disapproval was worth. Erica stood, the others finally joining her, though Andre didn't budge.
Batsheva sighed heavily, her irritation growing as, in a wave, the rest of the assembly stood up.
“Oh for... fine. Get her a chair.” She slashed her hand through the air as if she'd rather be cutting Mom's throat, seeming distracted as another pulse of her power reinforced the seals.
Was the vampire magic pushing against her? Had to be. It was the only explanation for her constant attention to the power holding the room in her thrall.
The two pages struggled forward with one of the heavy seats, their magic obviously small and weak. One of the Enforcers helped them in the end, his blue power hefting the big chair into place.
“Thank you.” Mom's voice was clear as a bell as she sat, crossing her legs, smile still present. “How delightful.”
The crowd tittered and Batsheva scowled.
I loved my mother so much.
The secretary huffed as we all sat down again. “We will begin,” he glared at me over his glasses, “yes?”
I shrugged. “You may proceed.”
It was so perfectly timed I couldn't have planned it better. Gram snorted in my head before settin
g off on a fit of giggles.
The secretary huffed again. “Very well. We call on Galleytrot, Fey Hound of the Wild Hunt.”
Galleytrot was a big guy to begin with, more the size of a small pony, really. But as he stood and strode forward, he seemed to stretch and grow until his shoulders passed the top of the Enforcer's heads, his ears brushing the sparkling chandelier. The whole room gasped as one, though Mom reached out to him as he dipped his great head and touched his nose to her fingertips. He sat next to her, towering over her, his shadow blocking out the sunlight streaming through the windows, red fire glowing in his black eyes.
“I am summoned,” he said in his voice like rolling thunder, the scent of fresh grass and an approaching storm washing over everyone in the room. “And I answer. For Miriam Hayle.”
I knew the others were afraid of him, as they should be. Within him lived all the power of the Wild, as unpredictable as Mother Nature. But though they shrank from his size, his true form, when he spoke again, his voice was soothing, spring time and soft rains, and they all relaxed into the hypnotic rhythm of his words.
Tears welled as he spoke, for Mom, for all of us, as he told his tale and praised our family. He didn't mention Batsheva and I watched her nervous chewing of her bottom lip turn to confusion and then frustration. Good, she could keep guessing. Her time was coming.
Oh was it ever.
When Galleytrot was through, he turned toward my mother and dipped his head again.
“I will forever be in your debt, Miriam Hayle, for not only saving my soul from eternal torment, but for your role in laying the Wild Hunt to rest and saving this world from total destruction.”
Mom bowed her head to him before reaching out again and stroking the soft fur of his muzzle. “It is an honor to have you in our lives and our family, great hound,” she said. “My friend.”
Galleytrot bowed low, his head dropping to the floor between his paws before he turned and went back to his place by the door, shrinking as he went.
They were awed, I could feel it. And they knew the truth now. At least, as much of it as he'd told them. Tallah looked troubled, as though she wanted to say something to me, but the secretary was now calling on Sassafras.
The demon Persian leaped to the railing surrounding Mom's chair and settled himself there, a more regal cat I'd never seen. His eyes shone with amber magic, tail wrapped around his front paws like a fluffy stole.
“I am here,” he said, voice ringing clearly after Galleytrot's rumbled testimony. “And I speak for Miriam Hayle.”
“Here is yet another Hayle coven creature,” Benita spoke, jerking to her feet. She looked startled to find herself standing there, pointing at the cat. Her hand dropped, a moment of panic on her face as she glanced sideways at Odette.
Had the Dumont leader actually coerced the other woman to speak? It looked that way to me. But Benita simply sank into her chair again and no one else spoke up so the moment to challenge her passed.
Hold still, Gram said. The time is not yet come. Please, trust me.
I bit down hard on my answer and fumed.
“Surely you do not accuse Galleytrot of belonging to anyone?” The disdain in Sassy’s voice was legendary. “And I am no one's creature.” His perfectly sarcastic and haughty tone cut like a knife and Benita flinched from his words. “I am Sassafras, and I am my own person.”
Witches nodded, whispering among each other. In that moment I remembered his history, how long he'd been with our family, was touched by the respect the other witches showed him.
“Let Sassafras speak.” Violet nodded to him. “I for one would very much like to hear what he has to say.”
“Thank you, coven leader.” He twitched his whiskers at her. “Delightful to see you, dear Violet.”
“And you, Sassafras,” she said.
He returned his attention back to the Council. “Now,” he said, tone dry and still sharp as any blade, “may I proceed or are you simply going to continue wasting my time?”
For a moment I thought he'd gone too far. Until I caught them all nodding again.
For once, Sassy's attitude was a good thing.
Bonus.
He spoke at length, but eloquently, with great emotion and care. What Odette had done the day before paled in comparison, almost to the point of humiliation. She might have polished her delivery, but he had centuries to work on his technique and delivered his testimony to devastating effect.
They cried, they sighed, they nodded, they smiled, as he led them on an emotional journey they went along with willingly. By the time he was through, they were his, completely and utterly.
So was I for that matter.
Smartass cat.
The gathered witches actually stood and applauded while Sassafras calmly groomed one paw and absorbed their adoration. The secretary shouted for order, but they ignored him in favor of my demon cat.
Beat that, he sent, one amber eye winking at me.
Not even going there, I sent back. Nice job, Sass.
Anything for you. He held up one paw and the room fell silent.
“These charges are serious,” he said while they waited for him to go on with bated breath. “I cannot ignore the fact. But, I would ask you to examine the truth, the string of so-called coincidences that have befallen the Hayle family, the tragedies leading here, to this moment. From a peaceful family, no less, the envy of all covens. Why then do you suppose someone as honored and respected as Miriam Hayle would risk everything? And for what? More power?” He snorted. “She has that on her own—more than enough. For recognition?” His amber eyes narrowed. “I don't see her sitting on your Council or holding any place of prominence from this. For what then?”
No one spoke. Sassafras turned to Mom and began to purr as he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against hers.
“This woman, her family, yes, my family, have been wronged over and over by this Council.” He turned back to glare at them in his Persian way. “When called upon endlessly for aid, our pleas were ignored. Why? Who is the power hungry then? The deceitful? The ones in places of prominence?” Sass flicked his tail at them. “Look within, witches. Rot runs deep.”
He hopped down then, tail waving like a flag behind him as he waddled his fat cat body back to his place, not waiting to be dismissed.
Gram was giggling again. Oh Sass, she whispered in my head, boy, I love you so.
Charlotte was next and, though not as impactful as Sassafras, gave firm and solid testimony, thanking Mom as she turned to go back to her seat.
“Lowly creatures seem to like you, Miriam.” Batsheva's snide remark was met with gaping mouths. She looked angry, waving at the secretary to hurry up.
Even he seemed taken aback by her attitude and hurried to read the next name.
“We call Haralthazar,” he said, “Demon Lord.”
***
Chapter Thirty
That was my cue. I stood and gestured at the Enforcers near the entrance. “Open the door.”
Batsheva glared at me, but the two black-robed witches obeyed without even hesitating. The seal retreated, the wooden portal swinging open. Batsheva’s magic climbed around it as she fought to keep control. Quaid entered first, Dad's statue floating behind him. I joined my power to his, bringing Dad's effigy forward to stand front and center, right in the Council's faces.
Even better? I placed it right in the path of a sunbeam. The light caught the facets of his effigy and turned it into a sparkling star.
“Behold,” I said, letting my magic boost my volume, “the Demon Lord.”
Dad didn't need my help. I felt him hovering there, waiting for my signal. And, right on time, he seized the moment and tore open the veil, stepping though into his statue.
More gasps. You'd think they'd never seen a demon before, the way he flooded the diamond with life, red tinted skin not reverting to human tone. Instead he stood there in all his demon glory, shining black horns jutting forward from his ebony hair, amber eyes on fire, h
uge hands lifting as he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the Council.
But like Galleytrot, he didn't stop there, body stretching and growing until he filled the space from floor to ceiling, towering over them while his amber magic crackled around him.
“Who dares summon me?” His voice boomed like a thousand drums, shaking the floor under my feet.
If they were scared of Galleytrot, they were terrified of my father. I forgot how good a show he could put on, the fact most of the assembled witches had little if any experience with demons. And while I thought he was laying it on a bit thick, it was his show.
“I do, Father.” He turned toward me, arms dropping to his side.
“Daughter.” His voice softened just a little. “Well come.”
Odette leaped to her feet, hand shaking as she pointed at Dad.
“Enforcers,” she shrieked, “seize this demon!”
Um, yeah. Like that was going to happen anytime soon. Not one of them moved.
Dad focused on Odette, his scowl deepening as he bent over her, his breath ruffling her hair.
“You think you can challenge me, little witch? Haralthazar, Demon Prince of the Second Plane?”
Whoa. What? Dad got a promotion? Since when?
Even Mom looked startled. Okay, so he'd been keeping that particular tidbit under wraps.
Go Dad.
Odette shrank back, Violet and Benita sliding sideways out of the line of fire, though if Dad chose to strike we'd all be at risk. The old Dumont leader's eyes flashed to Batsheva who was scowling like she'd eaten something putrid.
“You are the reason for this trial, demon.” Batsheva leaned forward, unafraid. Damn. I was hoping he'd scare her too. “Your use of blood magic has brought this witch to trial. Will you let her die for your mistake?”
Dad roared like a freight train running too fast, and this time the whole room shook. Witches shrieked, dumped from their chairs, the chandelier shaking and shivering while the window panes hummed with the pressure, close to shattering.
“YOU DARE ACCUSE ME?” Dad lashed out beside him, claws rending the air and I gasped, almost afraid myself at last as the veil between planes tore open and gaped wide. “THIS IS WAR!”
