by Amie Gibbons
“That’s convenient.” I sipped my soup and my dad stroked my hair. “Yes?”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Dad said, sitting next to me judging by how the bed shifted. “You were incredible today. I am so proud of you.”
I grinned, cracking my eyes open. “What do you expect? I am a Jones.”
“That was pretty fast thinking, Evie,” O’Shay said from the other bed. “You’d make a damn good Representative.”
That made me open my eyes and look over at him. “I’m sorry. What!”
“I’m serious,” he said.
“You think I’d make a good witch cop? What happened to me being an anarchist?”
He shrugged. “You think we’re so corrupt? Our tactics are wrong and one size fits all? Leaves no room for exceptions? Right?”
I nodded.
“Then change us. Show us a new way. Join us.”
“You’re serious? You think I should apply? They’d laugh me out of their offices, and then they’d be keeping a sharper eye on me than they already do.”
“I’m not saying you should apply.” O’Shay met my eyes. “I’m a high ranking rep. It’s why I was sent to check out how Covens were doing in different cities. I’m saying the job is yours if you want it.”
O’Shay stared me down. “So the question is, do you want it?”
Become part of the Council? Could I stomach it? Could I really change things from the inside?
I licked my lips and turned to my dad. He looked as dumbstruck as me.
I stared down at my soup like it could give me the answer. “Ummmmmm.”
Thanks for reading!
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This story is the sixth in the Evie Jones series of shorts. The other five are available on Amazon from my page at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01651YIZU.
And keep reading for a sneak peek at the first book in the Laws of Magic Series, The Gods Defense, coming April 2016.
CHAPTER ONE
“This is ridiculous, Your Honor.” I slapped the judge’s desk before I could stop myself. Oops, good thing we weren’t actually in court. “Can you say Twinkie defense?”
“Objection.” Reily shot out of his chair.
“Sit down, Mr. Reily. This isn’t a courtroom. There is no jury. And tone it down, Ms. Berry,” Judge Spenser said, giving me a glare over his bifocals as Reily sat back down. “This may be an informal meeting, but that’s a little tarter than I like my lawyers.”
It was a little tarter than the wrinkled old prune liked his women.
I sat down, smoothing my suit skirt. Women lawyers don’t wear pantsuits to court, or interviews, or even last minute meetings with judges in their offices in the South, but especially not in front of a judge like Spenser. I perched on the edge of the leather chair. If I sat back, it would’ve dwarfed me. Not meant for small women. Geez, even Spenser’s chairs were chauvinistic.
Or maybe I was a little crankier than I thought.
His office wasn’t big, he was just a state trial judge after all, but it was dressed to the nines. Polished mahogany desk, thick wine colored curtains pulled back on the window taking up practically a whole wall. The opposite wall was one big built-in bookshelf filled with books of statutes and cases. Could you say affected? Like anyone researched in the twenty-first century by combing through books instead of Westlaw or Lexis or another online database. Tasteful glass and china knickknacks dotted the shelves and Spenser’s giant desk to complete the look.
“I apologize, Your Honor,” I said, gripping the briefcase in my lap for all I was worth. My boss was always teasing me about my talking hands. “But there is no basis for this defense. Mr. Reily is merely trying to use the recent confusion to muddle our case.”
“I have the right to present an alternate theory of the crime, and this is a valid defense, Your Honor,” Reily said, rat face pinching up. “Hamstead v. Polok, last year, the judge allow-”
“That was in New York.” I flung my left hand out and Reily jerked away, my fingernail barely missing his cheek. Oops. I grabbed my briefcase again. “It was pled out, it never even made it to appellate court. It has no relevance in this case.”
“The judge allowed the defense to use it. The man pled out after the defense was allowed. Since then there have been two more cases where the defendants used the Gods Defense. O’Connor v. G-”
“Neither of those were criminal cases.” Hold onto the briefcase. Hold onto the briefcase. “Those were civil disputes where the gods hired corporations, giving them trade secrets in return, and the corporations claimed they had no clue the gods were going to do anything illegal as payment. They were not saying the gods made them assault someone.”
Reily held up a finger. “Could you please ask Cassandra to stop interrupting me?”
I blanched. The informality.
“I know she’s young and pretty, but-”
“I can understand Mr. Reily being annoyed at my interrupting, but I wouldn’t do it so much if he had anything relevant to say. For instance, what do my age or looks have to do with anything?”
Reily and Spenser shared a look. You know, that boys club look older guys get when they’re faced with a young female with the audacity to think she could know something they didn’t.
I thought I was screwed the second Spenser was assigned this case. Now I knew I was.
“The law must change with the times,” Spenser said, standing up. The irony of his statement still probably vaulted over his head.
Reily and I stood, too.
“Every day since the Awakening, we’ve tried to determine what laws apply to the gods and what they can do. We know they can affect people’s minds and actions. Unless you can show Dionysus could not have affected this man, I’m allowing the Defense to use The Gods Defense and to subpoena Dionysus.”
Was he shitting me?
“Your Honor,” I said, hand flying, fingers twitching. “If you allow this, even if he doesn’t win, defendants will be using this as an argument every time they’re put on trial. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to kill my wife, a god made me do it. He wanted a sacrifice.’ Dionysus isn’t even in Nashville. He claimed Vegas. Nashville’s Apollo’s. Reily has no”–I punctuated with a slash of my hand–“evidence Dionysus was in any way involved. Dionysus had no motive. There’s no reason to allow this defense. It’s... it’s… it’s ludicrous! Your Honor.”
Spenser narrowed his eyes. “You are dangerously close to a contempt charge, Ms. Berry. This meeting’s over. I’ll see you in court Monday.”
Shit!
# # #
The sunset as I exited the courthouse was amazing, all bright pinks and oranges, with yellow and green streaking though. Sunsets before the Awakening were never that spectacular.
One of Nashville’s many sidewalk singers was strumming a guitar across the street, his voice strong and beautiful, and attracting a nice crowd of professionals leaving work.
At least someone was having a good day.
“Sorry Cassandra,” Reily said, glancing at the musician.
“Oh, for what?” I smiled, shaking my head. “For doing your job? For being good at your job?”
“For using your first name and saying you were young and pretty.”
“Okay, that.” I pointed at him. “That was low. What was that?”
“Playing to the audience. Spenser and I go way back. And he-”
“Is an old, chauvinistic prick who rules against practically every woman lawyer under the age of forty in his courtroom?”
“See, there’s that interrupting thing again.” It was his turn to grin as he waved a finger at me. “I’m not the only one playing to the audience. You
do that because you think it’s cute and it makes you look like a green but fiery underdog.”
“I swear I don’t do it on purpose. I’m trying to scale it back because it’s so unprofessional. But you were pissing me off.”
He snorted. “I noticed. You’re young, you’ll learn not to get so worked up.”
Well that was hitting on condescending. I took a deep breath. “You sound like my boss. He keeps saying I’m going to burn myself out.”
“You will.”
“But… shouldn’t we? Shouldn’t we throw ourselves in? Shouldn’t we give it our all? These are peoples’ lives we are playing with here. Don’t we owe it to them? Saying ‘don’t burn yourself out’ is like saying ‘half-ass it.’ I’m not okay with that.”
“But you have to pick your battles. You can’t fight all out on every case, or you won’t have the energy to fight when you need to.”
“Maybe I just have more energy than you, old man. You ever think about that?”
“Oh, ouch! And the little girl comes out swinging.”
“Haha. Okay, seriously. I gave you a great deal. Why are you fighting so hard on this? Is this one of the ones worth the fight?”
“No.” He snorted again, shaking his head. “I begged my client to take the deal. Probation. It’s nothing. Anyone would have taken it. But he refuses. He wants a trial and he wants to use this defense. In my entire career, I’ve never had a client fight me this hard.”
“Wait.” I threw my hands out and Reily jerked away to avoid the swinging briefcase. Oops. “You didn’t come up with this defense?”
“No. He did, but hey, if I can be the attorney to get this defense to be something legally viable…” He stared out over the concrete square encasing the courthouse. “It’ll be huge. Make history. It will be…”
I searched my brain for a good mental illness defense case then grinned. “The magical McNaughton?”
He snapped his fingers, looking back at me. “Exactly!”
“See, that’s what I’m afraid of. We’ll have to come up with a way to test if magic is controlling you like we test for mental illness. How are we going to manage that?”
“It’ll happen sooner or later. Magic’s upsetting the law right now, but it’ll adapt. The law always does.”
“Yeah, but it’s never faced anything like this. We’ve got magical animals arguing for their rights, a President suggesting a tax on magic, a new agency to regulate the quality of magical goods, and a media circus over the latest magical being losing control or having an accident every week. Let’s see, what else? So many to choose from. How about the protests around magical businesses? My friend Millie is trying to get a magical invention patented, there’s protests on both sides around that one.”
“It’ll settle down eventually.”
“I’m just worried about what will happen in the meantime with all of that. With that damn bill the President’s pushing to get through the House.”
“The one to track and register magic?
I nodded.
“That terrifies me and I don’t even have any.”
“Take it from someone who does, the second someone tries to register me or my friends? They’re getting shot.”
“Well, if you do shoot anyone, your business is always welcome.”
I grinned. “Like I’d get caught. Give me a little credit. Hey, you want to grab a drink? I got to hit the office first, but after that I want to work out a deal for the Teed case before the weekend.”
Reily waved and I glanced down to see his wife at the bottom of the steps. I waved too.
“Cassandra, let someone who has been a lawyer longer than you’ve been alive give you some advice?”
“Go ahead.”
“Get a life.”
I scowled.
“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re not going to be young forever. Do something with your friends. Grab drinks and don’t talk about work. Go on a date. Take a mini-vacation and go hiking in the Smokies before you have to worry about what a hike will do to your knees. Do something outside of prosecuting this weekend. Okay?”
“I’ve got a trial to prep for with a spanking new defense to crush. I don’t have time for a life this weekend thanks to someone.”
“You’re going to burn yourself out.” Reily shook his head. “See you on the battlefield, little lady,” he drawled, tipping an imaginary Stetson and practically running down the steps to his wife.
“Bye!” I had to laugh as I headed down the steps and pulled out my phone. Millie had called when I was headed to the courthouse and I told her I’d let her know how the meeting turned out.
We could grab a drink and talk about boys like we did in law school… When was the last time I had a boy to talk about?
That would’ve been Three-L Spring before I found out what a lying, sack of… Okay, breathe.
Could you say didn’t want to go there?
“Cassandra!”
I turned and my stomach dropped.
How many times could I think, “Oh shit” in a ten minute period before it became redundant?
Henry Hepner jogged up the courthouse steps, panting. His thousand dollar suit hid the extra weight around his middle well, but it couldn’t do anything about what shape he was actually in. He was pushing fifty, with a bald spot in the middle of his dark brown hair, a little goatee to make up for what he was missing up top, and brown eyes that were always soft and sweet.
Even when he was making deals with naive young things to sell their souls.
Devil’s advocate had never been literal before the gods woke up.
“Hello Henry. Here to sign up souls, or is this a social visit?”
“Cute.” He smiled, all white teeth and twinkling eyes. Used car salesmen had smiles like that. But the worst they’d do to you was take your money. “I want to talk to you.”
“About?”
He pointed to the courthouse. “Your case.”
How does he even know about this? “It’s a little, nothing assault case.” I squinted.
Where was that rat I was smelling?
“My client doesn’t want this defense becoming common.”
“Why does Hades care?”
Henry paused. “People blaming the gods for every little indiscretion could put the gods in a very bad light if others start to believe it. They’re already struggling with reconciling their ways with the law.”
“Their ways, huh? Nice way of saying enslaving.”
“Cassandra, they’re not enslaving people. They’re building a following. Everyone follows of their own free will. And they can leave whenever they want. Just like any other religion.”
“Don’t spin me.” My hands dug into my briefcase’s handle so hard I was surprised the steel didn’t melt into my skin, and I loosened my grip with a deep breath. “If they don’t take something from their followers, why can I see lines of energy going into their temples? Hell, why don’t they tell people what goes on in their temples? Why don’t their people talk about it?”
“They aren’t the first businesses, or religions for that matter, who have non-disclosure agreements.”
“They don’t answer questions. Like where the hell were they ‘sleeping’”–I put up air quotes, nice trick carrying a briefcase–“for thousands of years. Or why!”
His smile stayed in place but his eyes went sad. “Has working as a prosecutor made you this hostile?”
“I’m not hostile.”
“You have been to me ever since...” His eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, ever since you left the school and started working for the gods. Dammit, Henry, you used to stand for something. You were the one who said ethics were the cornerstone of law. And now look at you. I’d say you sold out, but law school professors already make bank.”
His face froze. “Everyone has a price, Cassandra.”
“No, they don’t. That’s just what people say when someone waves enough money in front of their nose. How much was your soul worth,
Henry?”
His smile inched up a few notches. “My client wants you to plead this out.”
Nice change of subject. Can you say hit a nerve?
“He wants this before others start getting ideas about accusing the gods without basis.”
My hairs stood on end. There was... something. I focused on him.
My peripheral vision fuzzed away, people on the stairs becoming blotches of moving colors. Henry’s head came into sharp focus, red light bleeding out of it. Black streaks ran through it like poison in the veins.
Two years ago, if you saw colors around someone’s head, it meant they were standing in front of a neon sign… or you were just nuts. Now, to me, they meant emotions, thoughts, possible actions. It took me months after the Awakening to figure out what I was seeing.
I clucked my tongue. “Not nice to lie to a psychic, Henry.”
His smile warmed, the streaks disappearing. “Finally admitting what you are?”
“What? I have no problems with being a psychic.”
He spread his hands. “But you refuse to acknowledge your patron god.”
I jabbed my finger up at his face. “When the gods woke up, they brought magic back. They didn’t give me my powers, they just stopped withholding them. I don’t owe him anything.”
“I never said you did. I said he’s your patron.” He held up his hands with that same easy smile. He probably had that smile when wandering around his boss’s new underworld. “I was sent to deliver two messages. First, plead this case out. Second, your god wants to talk to you.”
I fingered the tiny cross resting just above my collar. “He’s not my god. God didn’t stop existing just because beings with magic who call themselves gods woke up. He’s still up there. Watching over us.”
“And yet He hasn’t come down, even though there are false gods among us now. Makes you wonder if He’s really there.” Henry held up his hands. “Sorry, we’re getting off topic. The gods are playing within the rules the government set out, not forcing anyone to worship or heed them. That doesn’t mean they can’t do a hell of a lot more than they show the public. You don’t talk to Apollo soon, he’s going to stop playing nice.”
