by Leeda Vada
Over the protests of the Hounds, because Canaan was Calli’s husband and mate, four other members of his family were allowed in: his aunt and uncle, Erol and Vesta Alexander, and their son, Dakota, and oldest daughter, Shani.
At 9:50 AM, the defense team of Saxe Chandler and his partner Luna Che entered and took their seats. The prosecution team, Dirk Allan and Claire Stanford, did likewise.
Judge David Edwards entered, and the bailiff called the court to order.
“Bailiff, bring in the defendant,” he ordered.
A door to the left of the defense table opened, and Calli, handcuffed and shackled, was escorted into the courtroom.
Canaan jumped to his feet.
“Get the damn chains off her,” he shouted, stepping as if to attack the guard leading Calli.
Erol gripped his shoulders, and Rand blocked his advance.
Slamming the gavel on the bench, Judge Edwards commanded, “Mr. Chandler, control your gallery or I will clear them from the courtroom.”
“I apologize, Your Honor,” Chandler replied. “Mr. Powhatan is responding to seeing his mate shackled as if she were a dangerous criminal who poses a threat to the community. Since Mrs. Powhatan’s confinement, she has demonstrated no evidence of violence or any uncooperative behavior in any form,” he countered.
“Oh, please. Your Honor,” Prosecutor Allan responded sarcastically, “anyone who has viewed your client’s actions can have no doubt what a vicious, brutal animal she can be. Mr. Saxe cannot propose that we endanger the lives of those in attendance here today by allowing her in court free of restraints.”
“My client has been convicted of no crime. You cannot treat her as a convicted criminal. She is entitled to the courtesy allowed any free citizen,” the defense protested.
Judge Edwards rapped his gavel loudly. “Gentlemen, just because you are lawyers will not prevent me from ejecting you from my courtroom,” he warned. “Both of you. Sit down and shut up.”
“Your Honor, I protest,” proclaimed Allan, sounding insulted.
“Your Honor, please. May we approach the bench?” requested Chandler.
“Step up, gentlemen, and I use the term lightly.”
Eying the still standing Canaan, the judge ordered, “Sit down, Mr. Powhatan.”
“Bailiff, remove the restraints from the prisoner, and Mrs. Powhatan, take your seat at the defense table,” he continued.
Luna reached out and clasped Calli’s ice-cold hands as they both took their seats.
Directing his attention to the two lawyers, “Gentlemen, I am aware of the social and political interest in this trial. I am also aware of the media coverage, that the more sensational your actions in this courtroom, the higher the network ratings.” Pausing, he made a cursory sweep of the entire courtroom. “But I need everyone within the sound of my voice to hear me,” he paused. “I will not allow my courtroom to become a circus.”
Directing his glance to the attorneys, he continued, “You will grandstand at some other trial, not this one. You will not use me and my court to enhance your reputations,” his eyes sweeping the gallery, “or to pad your pockets with cash from interviews with the media or to advance your political agendas,” he said, looking directly into the closest camera.
Turning back to Saxe, he said, “You will control your people.” Turning to the prosecutor, “And you will not do my job. I control my courtroom, not you. Anymore inflammatory language from either of you, and you are out of here.” Sitting back, he concluded, “Now, both of you go back and behave yourselves, or both of you leave and let your partners try this case.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” responded Saxe. “My apologies.”
As did the prosecuting attorney. “I also beg the court’s pardon, Your Honor.”
As Saxe took his seat, Canaan touched his back, “I need to sit with Calli.”
“No, Canaan,” whispered Saxe. “The judge won’t allow it.”
A low rumble came from Canaan’s throat. Dakota reached forward to grip his cousin’s elbow. “Tap it down. You’re not doing Calli any good,” he warned. “Saxe will take care of her. Let him do his job.”
“Mr. Powhatan, husband or not, mate or not, this is your last warning,” Judge Edwards threatened.
“My apologies, again, Your Honor,” Saxe countered. “It will not happen again.”
“Canaan, don’t,” Calli whispered. Touching his hand, “Please!” she implored.
Canaan reluctantly returned to the edge of his seat, but leaned forward so he could easily reach Calli if it became necessary.
With the swearing in of the jury, the trial commenced. While the defense and prosecution gave impassioned opening statements, Vesta watched Calli.
Head high, Calli sat facing front, her eyes void of emotion, her body taut, back erect. Her knuckles were white, her hands clasped to keep herself from shattering into a million jagged pieces. She seemed to have removed her consciousness from the room. Vesta had to watch closely to see her blink. She wondered if Calli even heard what the attorneys said.
#
The prosecution paraded a series of witnesses who testified to Calli’s volatile and rebellious behavior during her childhood and throughout her teens, her failure to follow rules, and her tendency to question authority at every turn and to respond with physical violence at slurs and taunts directed her way.
The witnesses were mostly reporters and former human workers at Bakari. No Canid would testify against another Canid, even if it meant jail time resulting from contempt of court charges. Those subpoenaed had either gone into hiding or were in jail, a testament to their regard for Canaan. They would do nothing to harm his mate.
Though Saxe was able to have most of the humans’ testimony thrown out because of it being second-hand knowledge, he could tell by the jurors’ faces that the damage had been done.
Calli’s impassive demeanor did not help matters. She looked the cold, pampered, arrogant, spoiled Canid princess. The exotic and sensual allure that was such a part of her also did not help. Most people equated passion with violence, seeing them as sides of the same coin.
Wisely, Allan had the young Claire Stafford deliver the coup d’état.
“Your Honor, I apologize to the families of the young men slaughtered in the senseless and brutal massacre you are about to view,” Claire began. “No matter how graphic and repulsive, the video is a key piece of evidence we cannot ignore if these young men are to receive justice.”
Pacing in front of the jury, she continued, “Defense Attorney Chandler wants you to believe that details of Ms. Lakota’s,” she paused, “excuse me, Mrs. Powhatan, as of twenty-four hours ago.” She paused again. “Defense Attorney Chandler wants you to believe that the defendant’s escalating acts of violence were only stories fabricated by jealous, resentful people. However, this is not the case. The scene in the video is the culmination of ungoverned, uncontrolled, indulgent behavior allowed to grow and morph into mindless rage. Five. Five, Ladies and Gentlemen. Five innocent young men, ruthlessly mowed down, then savagely torn to pieces by an animal that Ms. Lakota, excuse me again, Mrs. Powhatan, released on these defenseless men. Mr. Chandler wants you to believe her actions were in self-defense, a self-defense plea from a trained assassin. No, Ladies and Gentlemen. This was a savage attack by a coldblooded, dispassionate killer. Against disarmed, wounded, dead, and dying young men, young men no longer of any danger to Mrs. Powhatan when she released her beast to mutilate and desecrate their bodies.”
“I object, Your Honor,” Saxe protested, rising to his feet. “Ms. Stafford is enflaming the jury, speaking to facts not in evidence. Her intent is clearly to poison the jury against Mrs. Powhatan before all the testimony is in evidence.”
“I agree, Counselor. Ms. Stafford, move forward or sit down,” Edwards admonished the young prosecutor.
“I apologize, Your Honor.” She turned to the bailiff. “Will you start the video?”
> Saxe came to his feet. “Your Honor, I again want to go on record protesting the use of this video. The prosecution released it to the public before the defense had a chance to examine it for authenticity,” he protested.
“Overruled,” Judge Edwards replied. “Court-appointed technicians examined the video and certified to the Court’s satisfaction that there was no evidence of tampering.” Turning to the bailiff, he said, “Proceed.”
Resuming his seat, Saxe put his left arm around Calli’s shoulder and covered her white knuckles with his right hand. “Turn away, sweetheart,” he directed softly.
But Calli did not turn away as the scenes unfolded in front of her. She had lived them so many times in her nightmares that she felt nothing as she watched the footage that was being played repeatedly over the internet.
She saw a controlled, skillful Warrior, methodically disarming and killing five Hounds of God troopers. The video paused on her facial expressions, or in this case, the lack thereof, and then panned to the falling, bleeding bodies of the young men. The clip ended as a bloodied paw filled the screen, blood-curdling screams in the background.
Stunned silence filled the courtroom.
Ms. Stafford spoke into the hushed room, “The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, the defense requests a recess.”
“Under the circumstances, Mr. Chandler, I think we need a little more than that.” Banging his gavel, the judge ordered, “Court is adjourned until 10 AM on Monday. Bailiff, escort the jury out. Then, return to escort Mrs. Powhatan to her confinement.”
“Your Honor, the defense implores you to allow Mrs. Powhatan to exit free of restraints. She is not a flight risk.”
D.A. Allan rose from his seat, “The prosecution objects, Your Honor. The Canid community has unlimited resources to effect Mrs. Powhatan’s escape,” he insisted.
“I am aware of that, Mr. Allan,” Judge Edwards responded. “They can use those same resources to return her to this court, if necessary. I grant your request, Mr. Chandler, and I hold you personally responsible for the defendant’s appearance in this court Monday morning.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. We will be here.”
Bringing down his gavel, Judge Edwards commanded, “Bailiff, clear my courtroom.”
#
“Bloodthirsty Canid Female Slaughters Innocents.” “Conviction All but Certain.” “Canid Assassin Out of Control.” Headlines on worldwide media outlets.
Some reporters pointed out the absence of the Cumberland Nation’s Alpha and his Lupa, who also happened to by the defendant’s in-laws. The absence of Calli’s parents and other members of the Canid ruling body, the Powhatan Council, was a clear sign of the Canid hierarchy’s lack of support for the young woman.
Someone had even leaked the story of how Calli had been ejected from the Cumberland nation after attacking her Alpha, who was now her father-in-law. His absence from the trial, and his failure to address the scandal personally or to allow any official news release, further cemented his repudiation of her as worthy of Council support.
The most damning piece of evidence, of course, was Calli’s confession admitting to killing the Troopers and her refusal to testify in her own defense.
#
Saxe, Rand, and Luna sat in the lounge of the confinement wing in the court building. Apollo had secretly pulled in many markers to get permission for Calli to be housed at the secure location and to allow Canaan to stay with her.
Canaan was in an adjoining room with her now. Rand had just gotten off the phone, assuring Odin and Laura that Calli was holding up and that Canaan would stay with her.
“What now, Saxe?” Rand asked. “If Calli doesn’t testify, or at least open-up to you, how will you be able to repudiate that tape or lessen its impact?”
“All I have left is to emphasize the incompleteness of it. Obviously, the scene has been taken out of context. The only possible defense we have is knowing what came before and after the scene the Hounds chose for the internet, and Calli is the only one alive who can tell us that.”
“Talk to her again,” Rand pleaded. “You have to convince her. Get Canaan to help.”
Slamming his fist on the granite counter before him, Saxe said angrily, “Don’t you think Canaan and I have both tried?”
Luna placed two cold beers near the two men and sighed. “Why won’t she testify? She has to be protecting someone, someone for whom she is willing to risk the death penalty. How many people fit that category?” she queried, pouring herself a glass of red wine.
“Canaan. Her family. His family, despite their estrangement. Friends—though I can’t think any right now—except Khan, of course.”
“What about girlfriends?”
“Calli did not inspire female friends. They would almost have to possess no ego,” remarked Saxe. “Many a woman sees Calli as a temptation that few males can resist, be they Canid or human.”
There was a knock on the door.
Opening it to protest the interruption, Saxe glared at the bailiff.
“There is a Sebastian Varul requesting to speak with you, Mr. Chandler.”
“Tell Mr. Varul I can’t be disturbed.”
A hand slammed the door against the wall, before the bailiff could respond. “I don’t have time for this, Chandler, and neither does your client!” Sebastian Varul bellowed. “I must speak to you and Canaan immediately,” he demanded.
“What is this about? Canaan is in with Calli. I think she has gone through enough for one day,” Saxe protested.
“Not Calli,” said Sebastian. “Only you and Canaan,” he insisted, “and in private.”
“This had better be important,” Saxe stated. He signaled Rand and Luna toward the room where Canaan and Calli were closeted.
They entered, and Canaan came out.
“Interfering again, Sebastian,” Canaan remarked. “What do I have to do to make you understand that you are not welcome in our lives?”
“Up yours, Powhatan,” Sebastian returned, clearly at the end of his patience. “We don’t have time for this pissing shit. Your mate is about to be convicted of murder, and all you can think about is your damn ego.”
Dismissing Canaan, he faced Saxe. “I have evidence that will show that Calli acted in defense of herself and others,” he announced.
“So what are you waiting for?” yelled Canaan. “Give it to us!”
“She won’t let me,” Sebastian responded. Looking from Saxe to Canaan, he said, “I need your help to persuade her to the contrary.”
“Why won’t she let us use your evidence?” questioned Canaan. “Calli’s no fool. She must have a good reason,” he concluded. “So what is it?”
“It will expose an innocent child to possible harm, and she refuses to take the risk,” Sebastian responded.
“What child?” Saxe asked.
Sebastian hesitated.
“Mr. Varul, having second thoughts?”
The attorney put up his hands. “Don’t answer that. I can’t discuss any more of this without Calli present,” he declared. “She is my client, and I won’t take any action that she does not sanction.”
He gathered his papers, laptop, and briefcase. “I’ll leave you to it,” he told both men, then left the room.
Sebastian turned to Canaan. “I want you to watch the video before you make the decision whether to help me or not.” He put his laptop on the table, inserted the disk, and left the room.
While waiting for Canaan to view the tape, Sebastian stood at the window overlooking the crowded courthouse parking lot. He flashed back to a scene two years ago.
Chapter Twenty-One
Her skin was void of color. So incongruous next to the serenity reflected in her countenance. Numee’s beauty had been legendary, eclipsed only by her reputation for compassion and generosity of spirit. Sebastian struggled to come to grips with the picture of his sister, to reconcile the horror of the young girl before him with the ebullient, effervescent sprite who had
chased after him and her other two brothers. She had careened into him—almost knocking him down—in her quest to retrieve the pants she pilfered during the boys’ forbidden swim in the cove.
At the ripe old age of fourteen, Numee had fought tooth and nail to hold back her impending womanhood. Always a tomboy, she challenged their sire’s efforts to mold her into a sedate, retiring, acquiescent ladylike princess of Varulian lore.
Numee did not recognize class divisions. All individuals were the same to her. Of course, she was a free spirit: everyone was her friend, every challenge, an adventure. She carried a light with her that touched everyone in her orbit.
Sebastian and his brothers had been off planet exploring obscure worlds on the perimeters of their galaxy. Their tour of duty as part of the planet’s military was a rite of passage for all males, especially those of the ruling families.
When the Emperor’s summons reached him, notifying him of Numee’s escape from Genesee, Sebastian had headed back immediately. By the time he reached the palace, it had been too late to prevent Numee’s flight.
Months ago, when told the shocking news of the tragedy of her marriage, he was hit with a premonition of disaster. He sent the order for a healer to accompany him. Now, as he waited for the refueling of his transport, part of him knew it was too late.
#
Falling to his sister’s side, he pulled her bloody and torn torso to his breast. He realized that her essence had vacated her body. His tears dropping to her face, he ran his fingers softly across her forehead and cheeks, whispering the sobriquet that only he used for her, “nuttah, in all that’s holy, nuttah.”
So intent was he on the carnage at his feet, he did not hear the call of his lieutenant. A tight grip on his shoulder and the hoarseness and pain in Kato’s voice pulled him back to reality.
“The child, Your Highness. The child lives,” he whispered. “Come.”
Gently lowering Numee’s body to the ground, Sebastian removed his shirt to cover her. He closed his eyes, summoned the details of her bedroom, and sent his sister’s body home.
