Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle - Books 1-3

by Hart, Melissa F.

  She stuttered to a stop, and to her surprise, Carson rose to tower over her. She should have felt afraid, but what she felt instead was a challenge from him. There was something almost military in his bearing, and he inclined his head to her with respect.

  “The man you saw in that picture was my father, Lachlan Keynes. He was one of the four judges of Harrispont, those charged with keeping the peace and destroying evil where it dens. You're right, he was unable to catch the killer who has been preying on Harrispont for almost seventy years, and so far, I have failed as well.”

  “Judges... what are you, some kind of vigilante group?” Violet reached into her pocket for her Mace again, wondering just what in the world she had stumbled upon. The way that Carson spoke was faintly archaic, faintly foreign, but she didn't think he had a poor command of English. It was more that he was from a different place altogether, and she couldn't figure it out.

  Carson's laugh was soft and caustic. He shook his head. “Vigilantes think that they are above the laws of their people,” he said, turning toward the water of the fountain. In the dark, the lights gave it an almost unearthly glow. He suddenly looked different to her, as if he was from another land, another time.

  “The judges, well, we are the laws of our people. We teach, we guide, and when necessary, we punish.”

  “You say our people, what does that mean?” Violet asked softly. She felt as if she had to speak in a hushed tone. There was something being given to her here, and she didn't understand it. A part of her told her to flee, but there was something terribly compelling about the way that he spoke, and almost against her will, she found herself drawn to him.

  “We walk among you, but we are not of your kind, Violet,” he said softly. It was the first time he had said her name, and a part of her shivered at the intimacy of it. It was the way he might have said it when they were lying in bed together, or how he might have said it while they were doing even more intimate things.

  “Are you brave enough to come find out?” he asked.

  When she narrowed her eyes at the thought that he might be calling her a coward, he smiled and held up one hand.

  “Being a judge comes with the investiture of certain powers.”

  At first she was certain that it was a trick that the light was playing on her. Then she realized that no, it was happening in truth. There were speckles of ice dancing around his fingertips, and with every pass, they grew until they were fractal pieces of art, delicate as a moth's wing and weaving around and through his fingers in a dizzying dance.

  Instinctively she reached for one, and as soon as her hands drew close, she could feel the arctic cold that surrounded him. With a muttered curse, she drew back, and he dropped his hands, letting the shards of ice fall to the ground.

  “But you're so warm,” she found herself saying.

  He chuckled. “I still am, see?”

  As gracefully as if they had always held hands, he took her hand into his. He was as warm as she remembered, and though a part of her told her to remain aloof and away, she lingered longer on his touch. When she looked up, he was smiling at her, something warmer now and even more longing.

  “You've seen this much,” he said softly, “and you are not afraid.”

  “Very few things frighten me,” she said, looking up at him. “You're... not on that list.”

  He chuckled, a warm and lively thing and took a step closer to her. Now she could feel the heat of his body, and it was all she could do to keep herself from pressing against him. Her body remembered his, and they both knew it.

  “Do you want to see more?” he whispered. “Do you want to see what the city is like when you are asleep in your bed? Do you want to see the wild places?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His grin was wide and toothy and joyful. “Good. I thought you might.”

  He led her by the hand into the woods, and they began to walk. Soon, Violet knew that they would be entering one of the forest preserves that reached into the city like a tentacle from the wild, and she wondered at herself for venturing some place like that with a stranger.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, striving to keep the fear out of her voice, and he glanced back at her. In the lowering dark, she was startled to see that his eyes were a glowing yellow, the warm amber of a small campfire.

  “Well, we're going to a party...”

  ***

  They continued walking for almost fifteen minutes, and Violet was just beginning to get nervous again when she heard music. She strained her ears to hear more, and she realized that it must be an accordion accompanied by a violin. Violet preferred her rock and roll, but there was something compelling about the tune, something that made her want to dance.

  As they walked, the music got louder and louder, and then she could see fires through the trees. There was no path, but Carson led her so carefully through the dark trees that she never stumbled or faltered.

  When they came to a fire-lit clearing, she could see that it was actually a large meadow, and there were perhaps a hundred people milling through it. There were fires, there was meat roasting over it, and here and there, people were dancing to the music provided by a pair of young women playing the accordion and the violin that she had heard. It reminded Violet of the Renaissance faire she had gone to once, but instead of being in costume, it really felt that she had stumbled backward in time.

  “Who are these people?” she whispered, and Carson grinned at her. The smile made him look young and playful, and he draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her close.

  “They're my people,” he said proudly. “We're the changing folk, and we slip our skins for another when the last becomes too uncomfortable.”

  She shook her head, unsure of what she was hearing, but then she heard someone call Carson's name.

  They turned only to find a tall black woman striding toward them. To Violet's surprise, she was topless, wearing only a skirt slung low around her wide hips. She glanced around to see that there were plenty of other women who were dressed similarly, and when she turned back, the woman had draped a companionable arm around Carson's neck. She was tall enough to see eye to eye with him, and the look she gave him was frankly amused.

  “Carson, it's been some time since you've come to join us. What brings Mr. Oh-So-Serious away from his den, hmm?”

  Carson shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips. Violet was shocked to feel a stab of jealousy for the other woman. She had known Carson for less than forty-eight hours, and she was already irritated with the idea of another woman having her hands on him.

  “Grim stuff, Kiya, and I will want to speak with you about it later. Not now though, and not here.”

  The woman nodded, and winked companionably at Violet. “If you can bring dour Icefang out to meet the world, then more power to you, little one.” She gave them both an easy wave, and walked off.

  Violet glanced up at Carson. “So... are you two close?”

  “Very,” Carson said gravely, and he threw back his head and laughed at the mutinous expression that crossed Violet's face.

  “Nothing for you to worry about. We are both judges, we came up at the same time, and we've been companions since we were small. Let's put it this way. I'm not her type.”

  Violet frowned at that, and she started to ask him what he meant, but then she heard Kiya's name being called from across the fire.

  A small woman, round as an apple and with a bush of flaming hair, bounded through the crowd of people and threw herself straight into Kiya's arms. This was no friendly embrace, and as the pair began kissing to loud shouts of approval, Violet finally understood what Carson meant.

  “Oh,” she said, blushing a little.

  He nodded. “That's Amaretta. She's lapine. I wouldn't think it would work, but you know. Takes all kinds.”

  “Lapine? Like the French word for rabbit?”

  “Well, Kiya calls her a bunny, but yeah, rabbit. That's what she changes in to.”

>   “Why should I believe this?” Violet asked with a frown, but then she realized that she was talking to empty air. Surprised, she looked around for Carson's tall form, but she didn't look down until a cold nose bumped her hand.

  Standing by her side was an enormous white wolf, tall enough that standing straight, its head was level with her shoulder. It had the same gold eyes that Carson had shown for a moment in the woods, and Violet stared at him with wonder.

  “I...is that you?”

  Carson barked happily, his tail wagging as wildly as pet dog's, and tentatively, she reached out her hand to scratch his large head. He pressed against her almost hard enough to jostle her, but then a pair of children clattered up to them. One of them, the little girl, draped her arms around Carson's neck, and the other, a little boy, clambered onto the wolf's back.

  Violet watched, enchanted, as the two small children tussled with the enormous predator, showing neither fear nor apprehension. Carson let them pull his tail, stick their fingers in his mouth and tug his fur, and he only wagged his tail and headbutted them when they got too rough.

  “Oh, Carson, you mustn’t let them behave like that with you!”

  Violet looked up and found another woman walking up to them. She was tan with dark blond hair that fell in a pair of braids down her back, and she was dressed in a simple dress that flowed around her calves like water.

  When they heard her voice, the two children scampered toward her, snuggling up to her legs and chattering at her, but she only had eyes for the white wolf. “You're a judge, you can't have little cubs playing with you like you're a swing set.”

  One moment a white wolf rolled on the ground, and the next it was Carson, sitting up in the dust and grinning up at the woman who confronted him.

  “Peace, peace, Magda,” he said, holding his hands up. “I was just playing, surely you wouldn't begrudge me that?”

  The woman rolled her eyes, scooping her children—twins, Violet realized—up into her arms. “You should take yourself more seriously, Carson...”

  “I will as soon as you stop treating me like a child,” Carson said, and the teasing in his voice sent a pang straight through Violet's heart. It reminded her of every man she had ever liked who found another woman more worthy of his time, and there had been a few.

  The two continued bantering back and forth, and slowly, Violet took a step back, fading into the crowd.

  He'll never notice I'm gone.

  ***

  Despite her disappointment in Carson, the party he had brought her to was fascinating. Now that she understood what he meant by his people, she thought she could see it. She saw Amaretta, Kiya's lover, walking through the crowd at one point, and she thought she could detect a certain rabbit, no, bunny-like hop to her step.

  There was something slender and snakelike about the two sisters playing the music, and sitting close to the fire was a woman in a purple dress who was so beautiful that Violet's brain immediately made her think of a swan.

  She should have felt out of place in this gathering of people who were nearly magical, but despite her loneliness, it felt like coming home. She found a drink pressed into her hand, and without thinking of it, she took a sip. It was an apple cider, surprisingly mild, but she could taste the alcohol lurking under the bright crisp sweet notes.

  It was delicious, and she took another sip and then another. That was when she realized that there was a young man staring at her, and she frowned at him.

  “What do you think you're looking at?” she asked.

  He held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. “A beautiful woman,” he responded. “I was looking at her and wondering if she wanted to dance.”

  “I'm no beautiful woman,” she responded.

  He nodded mournfully. “Well, as you say, mistress,” he said with a grin. “I was, after all, taught never to contradict a beautiful woman.”

  She found herself laughing at his wit, and she stepped closer to him. He was slender with russet red hair, and from the sharpness of his features, she knew that if he were to transform, it would be into a fox.

  “I needed that,” she admitted, settling on the log next to him. “This whole place still feels a little wild to me.”

  “Well, we do wild, and we do tame,” the man admitted breezily. He was sitting quite close to her, and she decided that she liked the feel of his body pressed up against hers.

  “I like both,” she said brightly.

  He laughed, a soft and seductive sound. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, tilting his head to one side. “I'd like to get to know you better, and I think dancing is a great way to get to that, don't you?”

  He waited until she nodded, but then she found herself whirled out into the open dancing area, yelping with surprise as they spun out.

  “I don't know the steps!” she cried.

  “I don't either!” he admitted with a caroling laugh. “Just make them up!”

  It was more fun than she thought it would be, moving her body to the music, and stamping her feet to the lively rhythm. She and the fox found a rhythm of their own soon enough, and she couldn't stop herself from laughing uproariously as they stumbled into each other, holding on to each other for dear life.

  A part of her wondered whether Carson had even noticed she was missing, and she put it out of her mind by spinning faster, jumping higher, and laughing harder. When the fox leaned in for a kiss, she couldn't think of a reason to say no.

  ***

  Carson shook his head at his sister.

  “There are dark times coming, and you and the kids should go somewhere safer.”

  Tamora glared at her brother, but there was something good-natured about it.

  “Just because you are a judge doesn't mean that you've gained the authority to boss me around, Carson Keynes,” she said briskly. “You mind yours and I'll mind mine, and things will be good. Don't think that just because I no longer have a man around that I'm going to let some lunatic kill me or my cubs.”

  Carson nodded.

  “Speaking of yours, where is she? She was standing right behind you.”

  With a sinking feeling, Carson realized that Violet was gone from his side. It had been some time since he had seen his sister and her cubs, and he realized with a pang that he had shut Violet out entirely.

  “Damn it all, she was right here...”

  “Go find her, little brother,” Tamora said with a nod. “Bring her back. I want to meet her.”

  Carson was already turning around and casting his senses out to find Violet, but the party was even more crowded than it had been, and everywhere he looked, there were shadows that could have been her.

  Swearing, he started his search, but it took him a full quarter hour before he located her slight figure among the other people. He had been afraid that she had gone to hide away or that she had wandered off into the woods, but then he heard a shout of laughter and a cheer.

  He came to the dancing area, and what he saw made his blood boil.

  Violet spun around in circles, her arms out and twirling to the music. Before he could approach her, she threw her arms around a red-haired man dancing next to her and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. The man wrapped his arms around her waist and perhaps she would have gotten that kiss back along with some extra, but then he saw Carson across the circle.

  With a grace that was as innate as his red hair, the man took a step back, holding up his hands and leaving Violet twirling alone in the center.

  Carson glared at him, remembering that he was a fox named James. James had been living in the city for only a handful of years, but he already had a reputation among the wilder ladies.

  “Hands off,” Carson growled, his voice deep and rumbling.

  James shook his head, unwilling to even look like he was fighting with the judge.

  Carson turned back to Violet, who was laughing like he had never heard her laugh before, and he started for her.

  “Though perhaps you should keep a better eye
on her if she's got a bit of wandering eye,” came the silken whisper.

  Carson turned to roar at the other man. James was far too slick to be in range for that, and before Carson could decide whether he wanted to give chase and teach the other man a lesson, Violet came and draped her arms around Carson's waist.

  “You scared him away,” she said with a pout.

  Carson frowned. “You're drunk.”

  “No, just a little tipsy. But you scared him away.”

  “I'll do more than that if he comes around you again,” Carson growled, guiding her away from the dancing.

  The moon had risen, and it added its light to the fires that were lit around the meadow. Carson tugged Violet into the woods away from the fire, and he turned to confront her there.

  “What did you think you were doing?” he asked.

  She shrugged. She wasn't even as tipsy as she stated, and when she met his eyes, her own were bright and clear.

  “I thought that if you had something going on with the woman with the kids that I should clear out,” she said.

  He stared. “That woman with the kids was my sister, who I hadn't seen in quite some time,” he informed her. “And I wouldn't bring you to a place to leave you alone.”

  “It’s happened before,” Violet said with a shrug. “It'll probably happen again.”

  “It won't.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Before the words were even entirely out of her mouth, she found her back pressed against a nearby tree, and Carson's broad strong body pinning her gently but firmly in place. He ducked his head down until their lips were just a breath apart, and when he spoke, she could feel the soft skin of his lips.

  “Because I will never leave you alone,” he whispered.