by Jane Jamison
“I hope you’re right. I am betting my life on it.” Brooklyn slumped lower in her seat. “How am I ever going to get through this? I feel like I’m going to hell and back.”
“I guess in a way you are.” Reagan’s hand on top of hers helped. “Hang in there, sister. You’ll get through this with help from your family.”
Sister. Yes. We’ve always been sisters of the heart.
Brooklyn turned to stare out the window. If anyone could help her, it was her friend-turned-sister and the loves of her life.
* * * *
Matters of justice moved swiftly in West End. No one, from shifters to witches, wanted to take a long time exacting either the acquittal or conviction of those accused. Taking too long caused primal instincts to rise up. Fighting broke out among the covens and packs, as well as the wizards and other shifters.
Brooklyn rubbed her hands against her jeans. Representatives from each segment of the population gathered on the left and right side of the field. Witches and wizards stood side by side while shifters of all kinds mixed with faeries. A few humans were scattered throughout the crowd that surrounded her. Vampires stayed on the edge of the group, silently watching.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
She drew in a hard breath and did her best to believe Damian. He, Morgan, and Samuel, as well as Reagan stood behind her.
“If it doesn’t, don’t worry. We’ll break you out and leave the island.”
She glanced up at Morgan, thankful that he would give up his home for her. “No, you won’t. I won’t let you leave everything you love.”
“Everything we love is right here.” Samuel’s sparkling gaze met hers.
If she ended up paying the ultimate price—an eye for an eye—at least she’d die knowing she’d found true love.
Wicky Westmore strode out of the crowd and came to stand in front of Brooklyn. “Brooklyn Hightower, do you accept our decision, whatever it may be?”
She swallowed and did her to keep her voice from trembling. “I do.”
Wicky almost smiled. But as the Speaker for the Hearing, she had to remain impassive. “Very well. We’ll hear from Thornton Denton first.”
Grumbling came from some of those in the crowd as Thornton pushed his way to stand next to Wicky. “Ask me what you will.”
Wicky started her questioning. “Did you see the human Brooklyn Hightower at Blue Lake?”
“On more than one occasion, yes.”
Morgan’s growl rose above the others until Brooklyn took his hand and squeezed it. She had faith in the people of West End. They were her friends and neighbors. If anyone knew her heart, they did.
“She was with the tourist Randall Cartlidge on two occasions that I know of. In addition to the times at the diner.” He locked gazes with Brooklyn, and then with the corners of his mouth moving slightly upward, he turned his attention to Samuel. His expression was wrapped in an aura of smugness. “The first time I saw them was at the lake. They had sex and then started fighting. Cartlidge kept saying she and Samuel had cheated him.”
“And the second time?” asked Wicky.
“The second time was when she wrapped his body in a tarp and rolled it into the lake.” He frowned, acting as though he was confused. “I didn’t see Samuel, but I’m sure he helped her. He probably put a spell on her to give her strength to carry Cartlidge’s body to the water. I’m thinking he was too cowardly to go with her.”
A murmur erupted. Brooklyn couldn’t tell what the people were saying. Their voices, however, held an edge of anger.
“If what you say is true, why didn’t you tell anyone? Why hold your tongue?” asked Wicky.
Thornton shrugged. “It was none of my concern.” He looked at the others. “But then my conscious forced me to come forward.”
The crowd burst into shouts of condemnation, but not for her. Instead, their anger was directed at Thornton. A sneer lifted his upper lip.
“Where are the clothes?” asked Wicky.
One of the smaller faeries pushed her way to the inner circle. She held up the clothes Brooklyn had worn the night of the murder.
“Tell us, Maven, what you’ve found.”
Maven stuck out her flat chest. “As you know, we’ve had several shifters sniff the clothing. They all agree that it has cow blood on it. Plus, Miranda confirmed that Brooklyn helped get meat from the freezer at the diner and spilled all the meat from the platter onto her clothes.”
Brooklyn relaxed. So she had helped prepare meat at the diner. But why couldn’t she remember?
“However…” Maven paused, letting her dramatic moment capture the audience. “Upon further investigation by several witches and wizards, human blood was also found on her clothes. Not much, just a trace really, but enough to confirm that the blood was Randall Cartlidge’s.”
“Obviously, she spilled the tray of meat on herself to cover the human’s blood,” added Thornton.
This time, the crowd remained silent. Brooklyn sought out their faces. The worry and doubt she saw there made her stomach twist.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Reagan. “Why wouldn’t she have gotten rid of her clothes? Why wouldn’t she have burned them? Instead, she wore them to work the next day.”
“Who can truly understand the human mind?” asked Thornton. “It was only a trace. Either that or she hoped to get even more cow blood on it and cover the human blood up. Or”—he lifted a finger, silencing the speculative murmurs around him—“she didn’t realize she’d gotten any of his blood on her. As I said, who knows?”
“It’s circumstantial evidence.” Damian stepped forward. “She could’ve gotten his blood on her shirt when he attacked her at the diner. Or the real killer could’ve put it on her trying to frame her.” He glared at Thornton. “The fact that it’s only a trace makes it even more likely.”
Brooklyn came to stand beside him. Before the trial, she’d asked Damian to speak for her, but now she wanted her chance to speak. “I don’t know how I got his blood on my shirt, but you have to believe me. I never hurt him. I never saw him outside the diner. Thornton’s lying about the lake. I—” Suddenly she stalled, an internal force keeping her from speaking.
“What is it, Brooklyn?” asked Damian. “What were you about to say?”
She looked at him, seeking help for a fear she couldn’t name. Her mouth opened and closed, but every time she tried to say the words she so desperately needed to say, her stomach hurt too much to allow her to speak.
“She was going to say she was never at the lake.” Thornton thrust his finger accusingly at her. “But I’m telling you, I saw her.”
“How do we know you’re not lying, Thornton?” asked Samuel. “Oh, wait. That’s right. We know you’re lying when your lips are moving.”
People laughed, but her men and Reagan remained silent, rage filling their faces.
Thornton answered quickly as though he’d been prepared for the question. “I allowed the witches to test me.”
Wicky nodded, confirming his statement. “It’s true. He did. He’s answering honestly.”
Brooklyn couldn’t believe it. If Thornton was telling the truth, then she was lying. Had she blocked out the act of killing a man? Was she losing not only her memory but her mind?
“It has to be dark magic,” insisted Reagan. She began to say more when her phone rang. Yet instead of ignoring the call, she shot Brooklyn an apologetic look then pushed through the crowd, leaving.
“My sister’s right. We all know Thornton uses dark magic. As a wizard, he’s stronger than the witches. He could taint their spells to find the truth.”
Wicky turned on him, anger hardening her face. “Do not doubt the witches’ power, shifter.”
“Let’s get on with this. Justice needs to be done.” Thornton eased back, still in the circle, yet closer to the edge of the crowd.
“Yes, let’s do.” Reagan came back, making her way into the circle again along with a handsome man Brooklyn didn’t
recognize. Judging by Thornton’s expression, however, he did.
“Who is this? You know no outsiders are allowed at a tribunal.”
“We’re going to have to break that rule this time.” Reagan gazed at the crowd. “Everyone, this is Craig Wentworth. He’s a wizard from the mainland.”
“I protest.” Thornton paced to the other side of the crowd, putting his back to Craig. “We don’t need anyone, especially other wizards, butting into our business.”
“He’s here.” Morgan’s anger must’ve gotten the best of him as fur spread along his jawline. “Let him speak.”
Wicky silenced Thornton with a quick wave. “Go ahead, Mr. Wentworth. What do you know about this crime?”
Craig stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not a lot.”
“Tell them what Thornton told you,” urged Reagan.
Hope sprang alive in Brooklyn as her friend gave her an encouraging smile. “Yes, please. If you know anything, please tell us.”
“Fine. But all I know is what Thornton told me.”
“I didn’t tell you a damn thing,” insisted a very worried-looking Thornton.
“I met him at the bar several nights ago, right before I met Reagan. He’d brought me to the island after paying for some rather special herbs. I brought them to him from the mainland.”
“What kind of herbs?” asked Samuel.
“I can get you a list if you want, but they were very expensive and could be used for both good and bad. One of the herbs can be used to counteract truth spells like the ones witches use.”
Brooklyn drew in a steadying breath. Had Thornton used a spell to counteract the witches’ test?
“After we’d finished our business, we had a lot to drink and he started telling me about how he was going to get back at some wizard that had screwed up a con he’d been running on a human. Said he was going to hurt him by getting the woman he loved into trouble.”
The crowd burst into talk, neighbor turning to neighbor to discuss what they’d heard.
Wicky held up her hand, commanding silence. “Go on, Mr. Wentworth.”
“By that time, I’d heard enough.” He looked to Reagan. “I left and didn’t come back.”
“But he never told you exactly what he wanted the herbs for?”
Craig shook his head at Wicky. “No. And honestly, I didn’t want to know. I just wanted out of the situation.”
“This is a setup. I’ve never seen this man before. He’s lying because he’s fucking Reagan Legacy.”
“Thornton’s lying,” called out one man. “I saw that man and Thornton together at the bar.”
Others responded, confirming they’d seen the two men, as well.
Growls erupted around them as the shifters in the Legacy Pack threatened the wizard. Thornton moved closer to Wicky.
“Damn it. It’s his word against mine.” Thornton appealed to the others. “You can’t believe a stranger over one of your own. You just can’t.”
“Calm down, everyone.” Wicky tipped her head toward Craig, her palms pressed together. “Thank you, Mr. Wentworth, for your testimony. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to ask you to leave.”
“No problem.” Craig started toward Reagan. “Reagan, can we—”
“No, Craig. I told you before. I’m not interested. But thank you for coming.”
Disappointment flooded his face before he turned and made his way through the crowd and was gone.
“Sheriff, do you have anything to offer?” asked Wicky.
“I don’t, but I think Samuel, Damian, and Morgan do.”
Surprised, Brooklyn looked to her men. Was it time to show what they’d been doing? They’d refused to tell her anything.
Damian lifted his voice to be heard above the rumblings of their neighbors. “I say we put Brooklyn under a truth spell. No human can tell a lie while under the spell.”
“Bullshit.” Thornton was growing more frantic. “Besides, that spell can harm a human’s mind.”
Brooklyn laughed, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Really? You’re worried about my safety now? Not that’s bullshit.” She faced Wicky, believing in her men’s plan. “I want you to do it. Put me under the spell and ask me all the questions you want. I might not be able to tell you who killed the man, but I can tell you that it wasn’t me.”
“This is insane.” Thornton paced the area. “Why are we doing this? I’m a fucking eyewitness. What more proof do you need?” His voice was strident, laced with both fear and fury. “I won’t stand for it. Do you hear me? This isn’t right. She killed him, damn it. I saw her dump his body.”
“They want to hear from me.” Brooklyn pulled her courage together, doing her best to focus on the witch and not Thornton. “Please, Wicky, put me under your spell.”
Wicky stood in front of her in the next moment, her gaze meeting Brooklyn’s. “Don’t worry, but do your best to welcome my intrusion. I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”
Not “I promise to keep you safe.” But only to do her best. Oh, God, please help me.
Brooklyn looked at her men and Reagan then gave them all a brave smile before once again facing the witch. “I’m ready.”
One moment she was staring into the witch’s eyes. In the next, she was gone, lost somewhere in a void filled with memories.
Thornton at the lake.
Running.
Thornton catching her.
Thornton’s voice, casting a spell, removing the ability to tell anyone what she’d seen.
Trying to scream, unable to give voice to her fear.
Then everything went blank as she accepted his will.
Her body shuddered as it rebelled against Wicky opening her mind even more.
Thornton again.
On the street.
Touching her.
A glance down at the small stain on her shirt.
She smiled as memories of her men, their touches, flowed through the other, harder memories.
Thornton holding out his arms as a large bundle floated over the water.
She spoke as though in a dream, yet aware of those around her. “It was Thornton. He killed Cartlidge then threw his dead body into the lake. When he saw me, he came after me.”
Pain seared into her, but Wicky’s spell was more powerful than the urge to stay silent. “He put a spell on me to keep me quiet, to wipe the memory from my mind. It hurt whenever I tried to remember.”
“Go on, Brooklyn.” Wicky’s voice was soft, tender. “It’s okay. You’re all right.”
“He set me up. Thornton’s the one who killed Cartlidge. Not me.”
“She’s lying!” Thornton shouted above the others.
“Get him!” Morgan’s angry growl rolled over her. She tried to turn toward him, but couldn’t.
A scream filled her ears. Shouts and growls. Thornton’s angry voice changing to a frightened one.
Pain seared into her as the memories overwhelmed her. She tried to hold on to the memories of her men’s faces, their words muted with love filling their expressions, but it was too difficult. The other memories took over until she couldn’t stand the pain any longer.
She cried out as the world around her became clear again. Damian stood in front of Thornton, fangs extended, eyes blazing red. As Thornton lifted his hand ready to strike out, a blinding white light hit him squarely in the chest. He fisted his hand over his chest, surprise and fury etched into the lines on his face.
“Don’t fuck with my woman, asshole.” Samuel strode toward Thornton, getting between the dark wizard and Damian.
“Die, you motherfucker,” shouted Thornton as he whipped his arm outward. A stream of black lightning, darker than the darkness of space, surged toward Samuel.
Samuel shot his arm out sending another lightning bolt spiraling toward Thornton. The lightning hit Thornton again, knocking him off balance just as he threw his dark magic. The black lightning narrowly missed Damian.
She sucked in a breath as she realized it was headed toward her.
In the moment before the bolt would’ve struck her, Morgan threw his body in front of hers, taking them both to the ground, the deadly bolt narrowly missing them.
Roars and shouts deafened her as he struggled to sit up. Morgan, half transitioned to his wolf, growled as the crowd moved closer to Thornton.
With terror and desperation filling his face, Thornton tried again to unleash his awful lightning. The blackness whipped outward.
But Samuel, along with the other wizards, as well as the witches, were too much for Thornton’s dark magic. Standing together with faeries and shifters behind them ready to do battle, they sent the dark wizard’s magic hurtling back at him.
He screamed, an agonizing sound, as the lightning struck his head, splitting it apart. Brooklyn turned her head away from the gruesome scene and clung to Morgan. “Take me home. Please.”
Epilogue
“You look incredible.” Reagan pulled Brooklyn into her arms. “Are you sure you’re all right? You took a lot of heat at the tribunal. You’re still pretty weak. The ceremony can wait.”
“Not a chance. If recent events have taught me anything, it’s to not waste time. I want to officially become their mate.” Brooklyn studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. The white dress was a simple one made of lace. A ringlet of white flowers made by the faeries of West End encircled her head. A silver bracelet forged by Samuel was on her left wrist. Damian had given her a silver necklace with a red stone in its center while Morgan had promised her to make her a werewolf as soon as she was fully recovered. He’d given her a small bite already, hidden from view on her right thigh. She couldn’t wait for the bigger bite that would change her.
“Here. I want you to have this.”
She turned to find Reagan holding out a small black box. “I thought the men were supposed to put a ring on my finger.”
Reagan held her arm out straighter. “Just open it, smartass.”
Inside the box were two small stones joined together as though they’d been formed that way by centuries of wind and rain. The two stones were roughly shaped like hearts. Brooklyn put the stones in her palm then brought her tear-filled eyes to her friend’s.
