Key to Justice

by Talia Gryphon

  Gillian returned to her group. As she approached, she could see they were all chatting merrily with Rabbi Loew. Trocar came in through the synagogue doors carrying tea in a porcelain cup. God only knew where he’d gotten it. He handed it to the rabbi, who thanked him, then continued the discussion he was evidently having with Osiris.

  “Ah, there you are,” Rabbi Loew greeted her as she returned. “Shall we go out into the garden, then?”

  Aleksei took her hand as they followed the old man out past the cemetery to an area that was just barely lit by street-lights. It was dark enough on the outskirts of town for the stars to be twinkling brightly in the sky. Ahead of them, a chuppah or canopy was set up amid a patch of wildflowers.

  Rabbi Loew stood under it and pulled a small black book from his robes. “Come, children. The Golem is back where It belongs, and it is very late for an old man.”

  Gillian balked as she took in the scene. “Wait a minute . . . What’s going on?”

  “You are engaged and pregnant, correct?” the rabbi asked her.

  “Well . . . yeah.” Oh hell, she was blushing again.

  “Generally people do it the other way around, you know. Engaged, married, then pregnant, but this is not the time to discuss the way love has arranged itself in your life. Come here, my dear. Stand here by your young man.”

  There was some snickering from Kimber and Jenna when he referred to Aleksei as a young man. They weren’t certain if the rabbi realized Aleksei was at least three hundred and fifty years older than he himself was. Gillian shot them a glare to shut them up.

  “Do you have a ring?” he asked Aleksei.

  Aleksei had been grinning from ear to ear until the question. His face became more serious, but he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “No, sir, I do not.”

  “You have to have a ring . . . and a wedding glass.”

  “I was not expecting this . . . and neither was Gillian. I am very sorry.” Aleksei wasn’t smiling now.

  “We are not getting married now.” Gillian backed up.

  Rabbi Loew smiled at her. “Of course you are. You are worried that you are not in a beautiful dress, but your fiancé seems to think you are lovely just as you are.”

  “But I’m not Orthodox, Rabbi Loew, and I don’t want to be disrespectful or make you do something you’re not supposed to do. Aleksei isn’t Jewish, and I really don’t want to get married with blood all over our clothes.”

  “What better way seal your commitment than to wed after fighting side by side against great opposition? You should be married. Your baby needs two parents.”

  “I do not know what you people would do without me.” Trocar reappeared next to the rabbi. No one had noticed him disappearing, which made his reemergence that much more of a feat.

  He handed the rabbi a soft red pouch and a smaller blue pouch. “I believe those things will suffice.”

  The rabbi looked in both pouches and laughed. He shook a finger at Kimber. “He has thoughtfully made arrangements for you as well.”

  Kimber was flabbergasted. “What? Wait a minute. I will pick out my own ring and arrange my own wedding, thank you . . . Oh my God, is that it?”

  Rabbi Loew handed Pavel a ring. He was still dressed in Aleksei’s cloak, which he had tied like a toga around his naked form. Pavel held it out to Kimber, who squealed like a starstruck schoolgirl.

  “Is that a diamond? Is that a ring made out of a diamond?”

  Aleksei was handed the second ring in the pouch for Gillian. He gave it to her for her inspection.

  “They’re made out of diamonds? How . . . ? Trocar, where did you get these and what’s in the other bag?”

  She turned it over and over in her hands. It was a perfect crystalline circle. Brilliant colors of yellow-white, blue-white and white flashed from the jewel, sparkling under the light of the moon.

  Trocar managed a rare smile. “They are diamonds, but they are from another realm. They have no internal flaws and will not break, scratch or shatter. We call them rings of the sun, moon and stars. They are highly prized and often given as friendship or love gifts. I give them to Aleksei and Pavel, whom I consider my friends. They may bestow them as they wish.”

  Gillian didn’t know if she was more surprised by the rings or by Trocar’s admission that he considered Aleksei his friend. She knew he and Pavel had become close, but he had past issues with Aleksei’s archaic attitude where she was concerned. Right now, she had other problems. This just wasn’t right, no matter how well-intentioned the rabbi was.

  “Rabbi Loew, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. There are just so many of your own traditions you’d be bending to accommodate us. I just don’t feel comfortable letting you do this. I give you my word that Aleksei and I will be married as soon as possible, and I promise I’ll be married under a chuppah in your honor. Is that all right?”

  The old man looked at her for a long time. Finally he spoke. “I don’t mind bending the rules a little for someone who is in need, Gillian, but I understand your feelings. You are concerned that I might be compromising my principles. I can assure you that is not the case, but I won’t press the matter. I must admit, I am a fan of yours and wanted to do something for you.”

  “You already did. You saved our lives tonight. You’re a good man, Rabbi Loew.” She smiled at him.

  “I know I can’t hug you, but I want you to know you’ll always be thought of in our household with great affection.” Impulsively she gave him a little bow.

  “You cannot embrace him, but I can.” Aleksei leaned down, took the rabbi’s shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. To his surprise, the gesture was returned.

  “Thank you, sir, for your kind heart.” The handsome Vampire was clearly moved.

  Rabbi Loew chuckled again. He was a holy man, but undoubtedly a man who saw the joy in everyday life and in everyday things.

  “It is time for this old man and his kind heart to be asleep. Please take care, all of you. Thank you for bringing a great deal of fun to my evening.” He gave the remaining bag back to Trocar turned and walked away, back to his home near the synagogue. They watched until he disappeared around a corner.

  Kimber spoke up, breaking the silence. “Trocar? Can we keep the rings?”

  “Of course. I gave them to your men and they have given them to you. They are yours.”

  “What’s in the other bag?” Gill wanted to know.

  “Wedding glasses.”

  “For breaking after the ceremony?”

  “Correct.”

  “Where did you get those in the ‘other realm’?” Gillian narrowed her eyes at him.

  Trocar managed to look sheepish. “Fine. I took them from a vendor’s stall, but I assure you, I left more than enough money to cover their cost.”

  “You shoplifted wedding glasses?” Gillian asked.

  “I did not shoplift. I already told you, I left money.”

  Their banter was interrupted by Jenna, who was trying not to laugh and failing. “You guys . . . I’ve really missed you guys.”

  “Let us go home.” Aleksei hugged Gillian to him.

  “Trocar? If you would be so kind?” Gillian’s voice was muffled in Aleksei’s embrace.

  “Certainly.”

  There was a low rumble as the Grael opened a portal Doorway. “Step through and we will be right outside the Rachlav Institute.”

  “I must communicate more with the Elves in my realm. That is a very convenient thing,” Odin admitted.

  He was the first to go through, followed by Garm and Helgi. Hreidmar and Kelda were next. They agreed to come back to the Institute in order to formally sign the Osiris Doctrine. Osiris went through, then Pavel and Kimber, and Jenna. Aleksei and Gillian were after that, with Trocar being last since he had to close the Doorway after them.

  They all hurried into the warm light of the castle. Everyone was excited to be home. There were tales to tell, reminiscing to do and old friends to visit with.

  The moment they stepped thro
ugh the doors, Gillian knew she was going to have to put her foot down on Institute duties after hours. Helmut and Cassiopeia greeted them in the Great Hall. After the hugging and welcoming home was finished, Helmut handed her a folder, almost apologetically.

  “I’m sorry, Schatzi, but I wanted you to see this before you were surprised with it tomorrow.”

  “Shit, Helmut, can’t this wait?” Gillian was tired and filthy, and Aleksei was beckoning to her from the stairs leading up to their room.

  “This will only take a moment. Aleksei? Do you mind if I steal her briefly?”

  “Don’t ask him. Ask me.” Gill clomped on Helmut’s instep.

  “Ow! I’m sorry, Gillian. I should have asked you, but I was only trying to be polite to Aleksei as well.” Helmut sounded so remorseful while hopping on one foot that she gave in.

  “All right, shit. Give me a minute to look at the damn file.”

  “We should probably go to the library.”

  “What or who is in the library?”

  “The patient.”

  “Helmut, I don’t want to meet anyone right now. You said just to look at the file.”

  “I know, I know, but he won’t expect any therapy tonight. Cass and I will handle the full intakes. We know you’re tired.” Now he looked sheepish.

  Gillian rolled her eyes and sighed. “All right! I know better than to stand here arguing with you. You’re going to get your way anyway.”

  Helmut brightened immediately. “Thank you so much, Schatzi. You’ll find this very interesting, I must tell you.”

  “Be right there, Aleksei. Don’t start without me.” Her grin was infectious. He smiled back at her from his position on the stairs.

  Helmut walked her down the hallway to the library. Gillian opened the great doors, shoving the file under her arm so she could grasp both handles at once.

  She started inside, then stopped. She gave Helmut an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, well . . . it’s a little hard to explain.” Helmut scooted her fully into the room.

  “I bet.” Gillian turned back to the room and extended her hand to the person walking up to them.

  The new guy would have been well over six feet tall . . . if he’d had a head on his shoulders. Ornately sculpted black leather armor covered the wiry, powerful frame. A heavy black wool cloak fluttered behind him and was held at shoulder height by an elaborate iron chain. A sword swung at his left hip, while a short-hilted battle-axe rode his right side.

  Gillian’s proffered hand was taken in a firm grasp by a dusty black leather gauntlet. The glove was obviously old, the leather nicked and scarred from many confrontations. His handshake was icy cold. It took everything she had not to jerk back in surprise.

  A Ghost? Surely not. He was much too corporeal. Zombie? They were infernally stupid. She’d try talking to him and see what happened.

  “The Headless Horseman, I presume?” Gillian took a shot at it. She couldn’t be that wrong. How many headless Paramortals could there be anyway, dressed like that?

  “Guten Abend, Ma’ morgens,” he responded in a deep, eloquent, sepulchral voice.

  Gillian’s eyebrows shot up in amazement that he could answer her at all. She searched her protesting brain for the few German phrases Helmut had taught her. “Wie geht es Ihnen?”

  “Nicht so gut, wirklich.” He sighed.

  “All right, Helmut, out of my element here,” she admitted to her friend as she gently extracted her hand from the Horseman’s freezing grip. He hadn’t let go since they started speaking.

  “Well, that’s the interesting part. He can speak, as you have heard. He is corporeal, so by definition not actually a Ghost . . .”

  “He’s not a Zombie or Revenant either. In fact, I can’t read him at all . . . It’s like a blank feeling where he should be. And why are you speaking as though he weren’t right here?”

  She turned back to their new guest. “My apologies . . . Sorry—I don’t know your name.”

  “Leopold.” Helmut provided everything in English for Gillian, then translated everything back to the Horseman so he would feel part of the dialogue. “His name is Leopold Drachenberg. He was indeed a Hessian mercenary who was killed by soldiers of the Continental Army during your Revolutionary War. He is only fluent in German, I’m afraid.”

  “Leopold? Would you excuse us for a moment. It’s very nice to meet you by the way. I’m Gillian. Gillian Key.” Steeling herself, she shook his hand again, waited for Helmut to translate, then shooed Helmut out the door, closing it behind them.

  “That’s just great, Helmut. You take him as a patient, then. I can’t speak German. No, don’t start. You taught me a few phrases, but most of it was swear words. What do you expect me to do with him? Record the sessions for you to translate? I’d have to wait for hours to find out what he said. This is not going to work.” She folded her arms and glared at her former teacher and mentor.

  “But Schatzi, you really are the best at what we do. I’m much more effective in the academic and administrative arena . . .” Helmut protested.

  “I’m calling shenanigans on that one, Helmut. You just don’t want to get back into the trenches again and do actual therapy. I am not going to counsel somebody I can’t communicate with directly. It’s not fair to him. Not to mention the fact that it is very disconcerting to try to look into someone’s eyes when there aren’t any to look into. Blank air does not provide visual information.” She folded her arms across her chest, trying to ignore the stiff feel of her blood-spattered sleeves.

  Helmut chattered on as if she hadn’t spoken. “He says his main problem is that now that the wars are over and he has taken his revenge, he’s grown tired of haunting upstate New York and wants to find a new purpose in life. Oh yes, and his head is still missing, but that’s another issue.”

  “Revenge? Missing head? You really have gone completely insane. He may have been a mercenary, but he killed a lot of innocent people too, according to the stories I’ve heard about him. Do you know about the Hessians, Helmut? You should, being as you’re sort of from his original neck of the woods. If you can’t remember, let me refresh your memory. They were butchers. Guns for hire, so to speak, for the British Army during the Revolutionary War. The Hessians slaughtered a lot of people, and not in very nice ways. He is also still armed; did you happen to notice that?” She was yelling again. Note to self to work on her volume control.

  “Of course I noticed. That sword of his is an extraordinary artifact.” Helmut took on the faraway look he often got when confronted with an interesting historical antique.

  “Artifact? He beheaded people with that sword, Helmut. He is a hired killer and he should have surrendered his weapons when he stepped over the threshold. This is supposed to be a therapeutic Institute, not Antiques Roadshow! Goddammit, I leave for a couple of days and everything goes to hell. What is wrong with you people?”

  Deep, rich laughter floated down to her from the stairs. She looked up from her rant at Helmut to see Aleksei striding toward her.

  “Bellissima, I can see you have a few things to tend to. The sun is already nearly fully risen and I must leave you for a short time. Get some rest and I will see you this evening. Good day to you too, Helmut.” Aleksei kissed her softly, then headed down to the lower levels of the castle to clean up, then to the family crypts to rest for the day.

  Missing an opportunity to have an overdue snuggle with Aleksei irritated her more than it normally would. Intellectually she knew she was tired and pregnant and just needed some quiet time. Preferably it would have been quiet groping time with her tall hunk. Instead she was discussing dangerous, armed, headless men in the hallway of her home with her boss.

  “I hate my job.”

  “Now, Gillian, you are a wonderful therapist and an exemplary soldier.” Helmut patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion.

  She jerked away from his soothing gesture. “You figure out something for Leopold in there that we all can
live with or I quit.”

  “You won’t quit. Now, come on; things will look better after some tea and breakfast. Let me get Leopold settled in with Cass for his intake, then I will personally make you something in the kitchen.”

  “You’d better be suggesting steak and eggs and not that crappy sausage you made the other day.”

  Helmut laughed. “I know you love my cooking.”

  “Of course I do. It’s right up there on my list of ‘Things I Love to Avoid,’ between hangovers and spiders.”

  He hustled her toward the kitchen. She was still grumbling when he headed back to their newest client. On the way, he called for Cassiopeia, knowing that she would hear him wherever she was in the castle. The library was secure enough from the sun to let her do Leopold’s initial paperwork before she went to rest.

  Gillian wasn’t serious about quitting. He just knew it. She couldn’t quit. This job was in her blood and her soul. There was a waiting list of Beings who needed her help and who needed it at the Rachlav Institute. Her little makeshift family needed her too. Helmut expected Aleksei and the rest of their group would make that point very clear to her that evening when they could be reunited. Right now, everyone was home safely, which meant today was going to be a good day.

  “A unique idea in the paranormal genre.”

  —Laurell K. Hamilton

  Meet Gillian Key. She’s a Paramortal psychologist who can treat the mental distress of non-Humans. And she’s a Marine Special Forces operative who can get physical with them when the situation calls for it . . .

  Key to Conflict

  By TALIA GRYPHON

  “I dare you to put this book down.”

  —Rosemary Laurey, author of Midnight Lover

  “A fast-paced adventure tale set in a fascinating... alternate reality.”

  —Robin D. Owens, author of Heart Dance

  penguin.com

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