The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - James

by CC MacKenzie

  James held up his hand. "Saira saved Charlotte's life again and again. Take pride that the swift action of your daughter means my wife lives."

  Cristophe took a breath, nodded.

  "Grazie," his deep voice rumbled in his vast chest. "Your generosity humbles me."

  "I understand," said Samuel in a soft, silky voice. "That Charlotte is showing a certain amount of magical ability. How could this be?"

  Duncan Gillespie cleared his throat, the noise almost a growl of annoyance.

  "Charlotte is a fully emerged vampyre," he said, in a tone that dared anyone listening to disagree with him. "The injuries she suffered during her transition were extreme even by our standards. We are lucky she lives since she was deliberately poisoned by dark magic. The proof is set before us. We also know by this proof, and by the attack on Anais in Shanghai that Eleanor Pattullo is dealing in black magic. We do not know if Charlotte's magical ability is due to the dark abilities Eleanor harnessed."

  "Ezekiel has categorically stated that Charlotte's magic is white. It is a pure and natural phenomenon directly linked to her need to heal. There is nothing to worry about," said James, who prayed to God he was right.

  "The fact you are working with our mortal enemy, hand in hand with Ezekiel and his Legion, informs me there is plenty to worry about," shot back Samuel. A vampyre who's pathological loathing of magic, whether white or black, was well-known. "The marriage must be annulled with immediate effect. We cannot have a vampyre prince joined to a witch. Our laws are there for a reason and..."

  "That is enough," Duncan retorted. "You need not concern yourself with my family or my business, Samuel. Take care of your own."

  "Samuel is correct," drawled Damasio Casta, the Precedential Elder's loathing of magic more than matched Samuel's. And James felt his heart drop to his shoes. If Damasio ruled against his marriage to Charlotte, they were doomed. "The marriage must be annulled. And the witch brought before us to ascertain that she is not a danger to humans or vampyres alike."

  As James opened his mouth to argue, his father caught his eye and merely nodded that he would take care of this.

  "The girl didn't ask for any of this to happen to her. Charlotte is a member of my family, Damasio. As I am sure you, of all people, appreciate..." Duncan paused and let his words have the most impact. "Family comes first. My son and his wife are deeply in love. She has broken no laws. Whatever power she possesses is weak, a part of the fabric of the natural world and therefore should not be feared by people who should know better." He turned his head to direct that hit at Samuel.

  "Let us," interrupted Constantine in a soft voice. "For the moment let us put Charlotte's... abilities to one side. The most important issue is what do we do about Eleanor? She has opened a portal from this reality and escaped this world to another. I believe she is not working alone. She conspires with another... force. A dark force. An act that means her death. I therefore propose a Juristic ruling that when caught, she be interrogated and be cast unto The Fade. Everyone in agreement say 'Aye'."

  Every single person present said, 'Aye.'

  And so Eleanor Pattullo's fate was sealed.

  However, James couldn't give a rat's ass about Eleanor's fate.

  He realized he was in the middle of a desperate fight to save his marriage, his wife. His father and his brothers had his back. He would expect nothing less, but would their support be enough?

  Now the priest Vassili cocked his head to stare, with eyes that held no emotion, at the Gillespie vampyres. A black and limpid gaze that froze the blood in James's veins.

  "The Precedential Elders permitted myself and Voltaire to witness this Juristic ruling today and for that I thank them," he said. His voice lacked inflection and was as dry as dust. "However, it goes against our beliefs, our laws and those of the natural world for a vampyre and a witch to mate. Two species, incompatible, under God. Charlotte must be brought to the Dyunik Monastery for examination and a thorough analysis of her powers. Only then can she be released back into the community."

  Cue a stunned silence.

  James leapt to his feet, his vampyre rising.

  He knew what, 'a thorough analysis of her powers' meant.

  Torture.

  No way was his wife going to set foot in a place that even the Hammer House of Horror couldn't dream up.

  Marcus and Adam stood either side of him, their vampyres joining his.

  "I can guarantee that Charlotte will never, ever, use her magic, if she truly has the power, upon our kind. I guarantee it."

  Constantine stood, too, tall and powerful. He turned his head to scorch a dark look at the priests, who sat there totally unconcerned that they'd tossed a lit stick of dynamite into the proceedings and were happy to wait for the explosion and observe the bloody fallout.

  "Now, now, Vassili. I have Charlotte's blood test results. They are beyond doubt. She is vampyre. The laws of physics one-o-one says that a vampyre and a vampyre hybrid can reproduce and therefore mate."

  Vassili didn't even turn his head to acknowledge the comment.

  His eyes remained on the way James showed his fangs.

  "If she has magic, she is not vampyre," the priest said, refusing to budge an inch.

  Now help for James came from an unexpected quarter.

  "You want to take us on, priest?" this from a beyond furious Cristophe. "You dare think to imperil the mate of a vampyre prince during a Juristic Ruling? Let me warn you now, threaten one and you threaten us all."

  Vassili turned limpid eyes on Cristophe.

  "The darkness that has arisen in our world was cast from the fruit of your loins. Perhaps we should also investigate the profligate activities of your house?"

  The threat was clear and absolute.

  Vassili was making a power grab.

  The attempt was a clumsy one as well as monumentally stupid.

  James couldn't believe he was witnessing such an event. No one, ever, threatened the political hierarchy of the vampyre nation. Now he wondered if he and his brothers and his father had somehow missed the growing religious power of the Order.

  Cristophe's wide smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, showcased his glittering fangs.

  He turned to his sons.

  "With immediate effect place every priest of the Order in Rome under guard. Any problems, dispatch them unto The Fade and burn their churches to the ground."

  On the screen all Pattullo vampyres, except for Cristophe, rose and left the meeting to carry out the wishes of their sire.

  At that Vassili and Voltaire rose as one.

  Rome was the Order's second largest territorial dominion on earth.

  Fascinated by the amazing turn of events, and in spite of his own worries, James realized he was observing a real live pissing contest on a grand scale.

  Looking all cool and relaxed, Cristophe lit a long slim cigar, kicked back in his chair and insultingly blew smoke into the camera. When the smoke cleared, he eyed the priests with a clear loathing James could get right behind.

  "Nothing to say, boys?" Cristophe asked with monumental impertinence into the loud silence.

  The priests turned to look at Constantine and Damasio for help and support, both of whom shrugged as if to say, 'You started it, better finish it.'

  "You will do nothing to prevent such a blasphemy and desecration?" Vassili asked Constantine.

  The Precedential Elder shook his head.

  "If you wanted a religious war, priest, you've got one."

  Without a word the priests turned and, floating like ghosts draped in black, left.

  Now Constantine turned hard blue eyes on Cristophe.

  "What the hell's the matter with you? We've had over one hundred years of peace and quiet from those bigots. I'd have thought you had enough on your plate without stirring up dissent."

  Cristophe smiled, his cigar clamped between super-white fangs.

  "They've been asking for a kicking for years. I don't have your patience. They are parasite
s. They spread disease. They spread hatred. They spread death. Their time has passed." Now he turned to the Gillespie vampyres, his Italian accent deep and low. "You will need to protect Charlotte. Vassili is one cunning, slimy, son-of-a-bitch. I've heard stories. If she disappears into the hell hole of the Dyunik Monastery, you'll never get her back. Or if you do, she'll be but a shadow of her former self and spouting about a new epoch in vampyre history."

  "Brain-washing?" asked Duncan.

  "God knows," muttered Cristophe. "Whatever they're doing in that fucking monastery it needs to be stopped."

  "Yes, well, you might have a hard-on for them, Cristophe, but at the moment the politics of the Order are the least of our worries," this from Constantine.

  Everyone went silent.

  When a Juristic Ruler spoke in that tone, everyone listened.

  "Latest news from the World Health Authority and the CDC in America. Liberia and Sierra Leone have closed their borders, their airspace. Ebola is airborne."

  All that could be heard in the silence was the collective sound of vampyres inhaling a breath.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Three nights later Charlotte awoke alone in her big bed.

  The bedroom was lit by a single candle. Blinking up at the ceiling, she remembered her beautiful home was no more and that she and James now lived in the penthouse suite of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch in San Francisco.

  As she lay there, Charlotte very carefully took stock of her physical and emotional health.

  Since she’d learned the skill of blocking from Ezekiel, the Legion's voices in her head were now quiet, thank God.

  In the basement medical facility Ezekiel was healing in a way that could only be described as miraculous. Although he was still incredibly weak. Escorted by Anais, she visited him daily for a couple of hours for a crash course on how to manage the basics of her magic. Saira Pattullo usually joined them, too.

  Saira and Anais had become Charlotte's go-to people when she needed help or information.

  And it hadn't taken her long to realize she’d made two very good friends.

  Aversion to her vampyre had been replaced by a deepening curiosity and an acceptance that this other person was indeed a complex part of her, too, and nothing to be feared.

  She was learning so much of how her magic worked and how it harnessed the elements of their natural world and the laws that guided Ezekiel’s work and beliefs.

  Compared to accepting her reality that everyone who mattered in her life was a vampyre, for Charlotte, learning witchcraft was a walk in the park. The craft of magic made absolute sense to her as was the realization it was an inherent part of her DNA. She’d been born with it and that was why she’d been attracted to healing, to serving others. That fact aided her mental health enormously and gave her a much needed injection of self-confidence.

  Alone, she’d taken to practising magic in small steps.

  Focusing hard, she directed her thoughts, moved her fingers and doused and re-lit the candle in the room.

  Thrilled with herself, she hugged even that small achievement close.

  Rising, she padded over to the French doors and opened them wide.

  Her panties were tiny and made of silk the color of bone as was the matching vest. Since the evening was warm she didn’t bother with a robe.

  She stepped out onto the balcony.

  Tipping her face up to the moon, she leaned her elbows on the heavy stainless steel rail and intoned a short prayer to The Goddess. The moon, she'd discovered from Anais, was to vampyres what the sun was to humans and the satellite’s silver rays prickled the skin on her face, her arms, and her legs.

  Charlotte inhaled, relaxed into it to absorb the cool and wondrous power of the night.

  As James slid into her mind, her good mood didn't last long.

  Anxiety fisted in her gut.

  She wondered what on earth was to become of her marriage.

  Soon after they'd found Ezekiel, her husband had travelled to New York with his brothers.

  His anger with her before he'd left was all she thought about these days. It twisted her stomach in knots.

  She was waiting for him to make the first move.

  He hadn't phoned her.

  Now her brow creased, it wasn't like James to keep her hanging like this, but what was to be done?

  Saira had explained to a confused Charlotte that for a mated vampyre to have another take his mate’s vein was tantamount to Ezekiel fucking her, which was, in Charlotte's opinion, perfectly ridiculous. There was no way she was attracted to the witch and neither was Ezekiel attracted to her.

  Each morning she spent time with Anais who helped her meditate to calm her mind and directed her to think of the positives of her situation. Today Ezekiel had helped her take a huge step forward in harnessing her powers.

  "Take a deep breath," he'd said, "and think of the Earth as a woman with a beating heart. Hear it. Feel it. Sense it. Open your mind."

  Breathing deeply, Charlotte had let his deep voice lead her to a calm and peaceful place.

  She smiled. "It's like the ebb and flow of the ocean."

  "Exactly. Well done."

  He'd also taken the opportunity to explain to her that her blood was a very special juice. A sticky, red substance imbued with life, with magic, and that's why vampyres existed in the first place. Ezekiel had desperately needed the injection of magic from her blood to begin the healing of his horrific wounds. He might be healing fast, but the witch was still weak and needed regular shots of her hemoglobin. Thankfully taken from her in the usual way rather than by him taking her vein.

  James might be annoyed over something she considered trivial, but he was behaving like a child and needed to get over himself. As far as Charlotte was concerned what she’d done was nothing more than the equivalent of volunteering at a blood bank. How many times at the hospital had the staff donated blood during an emergency?

  However, today she’d learned all about the global pharmaceutical company run by a vampyre, Constantine Mabille, that manufactured synthetic hemoglobin specifically for vampyres. Saira had produced bags of the stuff for Charlotte’s regular consumption. The medic had also told her that she could supplement her intake by feeding from James.

  The very thought revolted her and had caused a rare spat with the vampyre medic.

  "I'm not drinking blood from James. Ever," she'd said to Saira.

  "You're one stubborn witch," came the response.

  "Damn right. Did I ask for this? Did I?"

  "No."

  "'Nough said."

  Although at the moment there was fat chance of her ever feeding from her husband.

  Once he’d assured himself she was fine after she’d fainted, James hadn’t come near her. In fact he'd travelled to another city. Apparently, all the Gillespie vampyres were at some very important meeting in New York, video conferencing with the Precedential Elders (whatever the hell they were) discussing a Judicial Order against Eleanor Pattullo. The full force of the vampyre leadership were lined up against Cristophe Pattullo's daughter for crimes committed against the vampyre nation.

  And Charlotte couldn’t be sorry for it, even though she was finding it hard to believe why the vampyre had wanted her dead in the first place - all because she'd had a hot affair with James over one hundred years ago? Oh yes, she'd heard all about her husband's hot affair with Eleanor from Saira.

  One hundred years had passed and still the woman wasn't over it?

  She shook her head, trying to get her mind around the timescale and failed spectacularly.

  How many times had she woken up all alone and in a cold sweat in the middle of a flashback of the agony she’d endured during her transition from human to vampyre? That was usually when her vampyre took over and forced her back to sleep.

  Confronting the truth about how Eleanor had managed to manipulate her so easily, had Charlotte admit that if all had been well in her marriage, if her and James had had
total honesty and trust in their relationship, no one could have used their weaknesses to come between them.

  Both of them were at fault.

  James Gillespie had married her but hadn’t taken the final step to bring her fully into his world. She’d been living in a sort of no-man’s land being neither one thing nor the other.

  Her instincts about James and how he'd treated her in bed had been spot on, too.

  He had been holding something back; a crucial part of himself.

  And by holding himself back sexually from her, he'd fed her insecurities.

  Who’d have guessed the truth, he was a vampyre?

  But even though she was so very angry with him, Charlotte admitted, she’d been at fault too. By indulging in self-pity and stupidly confiding in another woman instead of her husband, Charlotte was just as responsible as James for the mess of her marriage.

  While he should have told her the truth about being a vampyre and the price she’d need to pay to be with him, instead James deliberately and wilfully removed her right to choose her own destiny.

  Nursing a heavy heart she wished James would return to her and they could sort themselves out and get on with their lives.

  Turning back, she entered her bedroom and Charlotte stopped dead and simply stared.

  Her heart was doing a pretty good imitation of having cardiac dysrhythmia.

  As if she'd conjured him simply by thinking about him, James was standing in her bedroom with his hands thrust in his suit trouser pockets staring very hard at her.

  And he didn't look friendly.

  Her gaze took in his long, lean frame and a liquid dark longing pulsed and ached between her legs.

  How could she have forgotten the physical impact of him and how stunningly beautiful he was? His glossy hair was tied at the neck. His face looked like it was carved from solid rock.

  All the while those blue eyes slid slowly from her bare feet and up her body with an intensity that made her eyes sting.

  Oh God, he was still angry with her?