Magic Rising

by Camilla Chafer

  Steven looked up. “Not yet. It was omitted from the paperwork I received, apparently as a matter of security. It should come out in the early stages of the trial.”

  “So we’re definitely going to trial?” I still didn’t quite believe it; I needed to hear it again for it to be true. “Today?”

  He nodded. “Yes. We’ll petition the court to throw the case out, of course.”

  “This sucks.” My stomach rolled. I was vaguely aware of being hungry, but I couldn’t eat a thing.

  “I quite agree,” said Micah, surprising me.

  “I just can’t think who could hate me so much that they’d want to punish me like this.”

  Steven considered me for a moment. “Can’t you?” he asked, his words powerfully direct, despite the gentle tone.

  Well, actually I could. I just couldn’t think of why. There were more than a few people who fared worse than I after challenging me, but it didn’t seem sensible or justified to take such a step as this. I was simply a witch, and a new one at that. My magic, so far, was comprised of the hit-or-miss variety and only now, with all of my lessons over, did I feel any sense of confidence wielding it. Of course, no one else knew that. As far as the witch community knew, if they heard about me at all, I killed a powerful witch, and returned another, a product of Georgia Thomas’ necromancy to the other side. I wasn’t politically inclined. I didn’t wish to run for power within the Council. I didn’t endorse anybody else either, but that was mostly because the candidates hadn’t been revealed yet. The only witch I knew who obsessively sought power was one I preferred to avoid. I certainly wasn’t dark or dangerous, and neither the witch community nor the world at large needed protection from me. The whole trial seemed too bizarre to believe, as did the timing. I said as much to the table.

  “Perhaps they aren’t targeting Stella,” mused Etoile.

  “Not sure how you came to that conclusion, given that I’m on trial for murder!”

  “I believe Etoile means this move is to discredit those around you,” said Steven. He tapped the pen thoughtfully against the table, as if we had all the time in the world.

  I returned to the table, my steps heavy, and sat down. “Why?”

  Steven gave me a wisp of a smile. “Instead of conjecture, I believe the first day of the trial may provide us with some answers, or at least the questions we need to ask to point us in the right direction.”

  “I really don’t want to do this.”

  “If you don’t appear as summoned, you may be charged in absentia. Or they might send a bounty hunter after you and force you to appear. Trust me, you don’t want either of those things,” said Steven with the voice of experience.

  “What happens today?” I asked. “Do you call witnesses? Or can you ask for a dismissal straight away?”

  “Today will be quick. The charge will be read to the assembly. The accused as well as the accuser will be presented at court and their opening statements will be read. I expect it to be over rather quickly. The judiciary will hear the statements and decide whether the case has merit and should be pursued. I’ll petition for dismissal on no grounds. However, if they deem there’s enough evidence, the trial will begin quickly. If they rule in our favor, you will be free to go.”

  The idea that it could all be over by this afternoon was invigorating until what he said dawned on me. “Hold on. Before the assembly? There will be other people there?”

  “The Council operates in open court.” Steven grimaced. “Unfortunately, with the Summit being so close and many already in attendance for it, plus the nature of the crime, it’s bound to draw quite a crowd.”

  “If they didn’t know your name yesterday, they will today,” Micah supplied helpfully.

  “Not just the witches either,” murmured Etoile. Next to her, Micah nodded. “Everyone will want to meet the witch who was powerful enough to kill a Bartholomew.”

  I sank my head into my hands. My voice came out like a pitiful wail. “They’re going to think I’m some kind of evil super witch.”

  “Not necessarily.” Etoile patted my shoulder. “Last year, you were a neophyte who couldn’t control your powers.”

  I looked up at her through my fingers. “And now I can,” I pointed out as realisation dawned on me. “Do they think I’m super powerful now?”

  “It’s a possibility,” agreed Etoile. “I imagine they’re mostly curious. This news spread far and wide, Stella. If Eleanor had been simply just another witch, maybe people would have forgotten by now. But because of her stature, and your naivete, and since you more or less sprung up from nowhere, people want to know what happened.”

  “The hearing already has people talking,” confirmed Steven.

  Micah grinned. It was disconcerting. “They’re coming to see the newest badass witch in town,” he told me with an approving nod that made my insides wilt.

  ~

  Etoile was right. My trial was apparently an exciting event on the witchy social calendar.

  Micah escorted us to The Amethyst Building where the Summit was taking place, although he declined to enter and went in search of a coffee shop to hole up in while waiting for us. That left me to enter the anonymous looking building, from all appearances containing several floors of offices populated by humans, flanked by Steven and Etoile. At first, everything seemed ordinary. In the downstairs lobby, people went about their business, ignoring us as we made our way to the private bank of elevators that served the upper floors, the buttons skipping straight from first floor to tenth and rising to twenty. After we stepped out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor, a gloomy silence spread over the lobby, and followed us the further we walked into the building. Refusing to look on either side of me, I tried to keep my face an emotionless mask. I followed Steven as he guided us to the same room we had exited yesterday.

  The double doors were open, and clearly, the room had packed out before we even arrived. The latecomers were relegated to standing room only at the very back. Lucky me, I had a special spot right at the front. The closest I’d been to a courtroom was on TV, and the setting, as well as the furniture, seemed to emulate that. Instead of a bench, however, there was the large table from yesterday, although the horseshoe sections were now removed. It was also closer to the wall in order to allow space for the oversized audience. At the left was the small dais, empty except for a single chair. Two tables occupied the space in front of the main table, and both were empty. The seated crowd, who fell silent as we moved ahead to take up our positions at one of the tables, watched my back.

  A quick scan of the crowd for any familiar faces gave me a feeling of dread and a wave of shame flooded me. Marc Bartholomew had an aisle seat two rows back, behind the vacant prosecution table. He wore a dark suit and tie, which contrasted with his ruffled, surfer-blond hair and tan skin. He caught my eye, but didn’t smile. I thought I detected the slightest incline of his head, but for all I knew, he could have just been trying to get a better view of the accused.

  Behind him, and on my side of the room, sat Anders and Daniel. Both gave me reassuring smiles and I nodded, resisting the urge to wave at them. It probably wasn’t the right signal to send to the crowd. I saw my friends and employers, Seren Winterstorm, and her husband, David Langstrom, sitting behind Anders. Taking up the rest of their row were the Winterstorm parents, Laura and Byron, whom I’d met at Seren and David’s wedding. Between Seren and her parents was a woman so much like her sisters that I almost did a double take — Astra Winterstorm. She looked pale, but ever so much healthier than our first encounter. Her hair was swept into a short ponytail, a few strands framing her face. She wore a long, khaki dress and a cropped black jacket and was sitting very still. As if she sensed I was looking, she raised her eyes to meet mine. I held her gaze for only a fraction of a second before we both looked away, embarrassed.

  There were a few other familiar faces, witches I’d either met or seen. If I played a more integral part of the community, I would probably have known more about
them or even remembered their names. I assumed Etoile knew everybody.

  A hand on my shoulder pressed me into a seat, with my back to everyone. Even so, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, which was far from comforting.

  “I can feel magic,” I whispered to Steven. It seemed to be all around the room, though I couldn’t pinpoint any particular source.

  “It’s a magic restriction spell. It prevents anyone from using magic in here.”

  “Oh. What now?”

  “Now we wait,” he replied.

  A man stood directly in front of the table before us. “All rise,” he commanded as he stepped aside and the judiciary materialised into the seats next to the table. I recognized the woman in the middle as Lisette Randolph, the one in charge yesterday. She was accompanied on both sides by two more witches, one of whom looked familiar, and the five occupied one table.

  I stood up along with Steven and Etoile, and I sat when they sat.

  “We will hear both sides of the case of Estrella Mayweather versus the Community presented here today so that we may determine as to whether or not a trial is necessary. Will the defence please rise?” Lisette instructed, her commanding voice riveting every eye upon her.

  We stood.

  “Will the defendant identify herself?”

  Steven nodded to me. “Stella, uh Estrella Mayweather, uh, your honour,” I mumbled.

  “Represented by Steven Haller,” Steven added.

  She nodded in mute recognition, and I felt grateful not to have offended her with the title. “And the prosecution.”

  I didn’t notice their arrival, or see them take their places, so I had to lean forward slightly and look around Steven.

  “Alison Dorling,” said the woman now standing behind the prosecution table. “I charge that Stella Mayweather murdered Eleanor Bartholomew and was also responsible for the death of my son, Jared Dorling.”

  A small discussion erupted at the main table. As they fell silent, Lisette asked, “You wish to add the charge of Jared Dorling’s murder onto the indictment?”

  The small woman seemed to freeze. She blinked several times before replying. “Not murder by her own hand, but indirectly and through her reckless actions—” she pointed towards me, adding, “—she is responsible for my Jared’s death! And for the two other students in the house.”

  “You wish to add the additional two deaths to your accusation? Do you also represent their family?”

  I gulped and leaned into Steven. “I don’t understand. Are they charging me for deaths of all of them?”

  Steven waved a silencing hand as he leaned in, listening intently.

  Alison Dorling shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “Just Jared Dorling. She was responsible for my son’s death!”

  Steven shot to his feet. “Conjecture,” he said in a firm voice.

  “Please stick to the facts exclusively,” Lisette warned her. “Your counsel?”

  A tall, elegant woman leaned forward. She flashed a cold glance towards us, her lips curling in the cruelest hint of a smile. My heart sank as my worst fears were realised. “Georgia Thomas is plaintiff’s counsel,” she enunciated very clearly so the whole room could hear.

  Beside me, Etoile swore softly.

  SIX

  We were shuffled to a small side room while the judiciary retreated to consider the second charge. I didn’t dare look back as the court erupted into confused and excited chatter.

  “She’s Jared’s mother?” I asked as soon as the door shut, blocking out the worst of the noise. Jared was in his late teens when I met him. Impetuous, lively, funny, he was a novice in training, the same as I, and his magic was even more out of control than mine. But I walked out of the house we shared alive, and he didn’t. Eleanor killed him and even had the bad taste to mock him afterwards.

  “I believe so,” said Steven. I sat at the small table in the centre of the room while he paced. “I am concerned about this charge.”

  “I didn’t kill him!” I said, thinking back to my prediction yesterday that one of the families could have brought the charge. I hadn’t considered it seriously.

  “We know that, and that’s not the accusation. They maintain that you were responsible.”

  “Because Eleanor came for me?” I asked. “And he was in the way?”

  Steven nodded and I closed my eyes. It seemed so unfair.

  “Is Alison Dorling related to Eleanor?” I asked, wondering how she could bring that charge, while ignoring the others she mentioned. Lisette had asked if she represented the dead sisters’ family and Alison had said no.

  “Not that I know of,” replied Steven. “She can authorise the charge because Eleanor was a Council figure. It’s an old clause in our lawbooks. A failsafe if anyone harms them.”

  “I smell the scent of Georgia Thomas meddling,” said Etoile. She stopped drumming her fingers against the table. When her fist came down on the surface, I wasn’t the only one who jumped. “I should have known she would stoop to something like this.”

  “This is her revenge for being humiliated?” I asked. “Because we foiled her plan to bring back dead witches?”

  Etoile shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know what goes on in her stupid head.”

  “Great. Just great. Why didn’t Evan make sure she could never get out of the Grand Canyon when he dropped her into it?” I flopped back against the flimsy, foldable chair and crossed my arms. “All this because she’s pissed her friend didn’t get to steal a body and come back?”

  “It does seem a stretch,” agreed Steven.

  Etoile arched one brow. “Not particularly.”

  “She’s crazy!” I jumped up. Seeing there was no room for me to pace, with Steven taking up what little space existed in the room, I flopped back into my seat.

  “Unfortunately not. She’s sane and nasty,” said Etoile. “I’m concerned she put Alison Dorling up to this. I’m sure she became very distraught upon hearing that Jared was killed. It would have been pretty easy to manipulate her.”

  “But this has nothing to do with Georgia!” I protested. “She wasn’t there. She didn’t see how awful it was.” My whole body ached at the memory of what happened, of the solitary months afterward when I scryed with the crystal everyday for Evan, not knowing if he were alive or dead, when I felt utterly abandoned.

  “Stay calm, Stella. This might still amount to nothing.” Steven stopped pacing and instead, now rested his palms on the table. “The judiciary might still refuse to hear a case here. The extra charge has caused some confusion.”

  “But if they do…” I trailed off.

  “What ifs won’t get us anywhere. Instead, we must prepare for the worst. I have a list of witnesses to call in your defence.” Steven produced a square of paper from his inner breast pocket, unfolded it and pushed it in front of me. “Can you think of anyone else to add?”

  I looked it over. “No. They’ve got everyone who was left when it happened. Except Evan.”

  After a moment’s pause, Steven added Evan to the list.

  “But they won’t call him,” I said, remembering what he said about Meg. Evan’s genetics ruled out his testimony. “He won’t be able to testify.”

  “There is one other thing,” Steven added, not in disagreement with me. “But it’s not the safest method. I would only ask it of you if there were no other choice.”

  “What? I’ll go on the stand and testify,” I told him.

  “I’m glad to hear that, but it’s not…” Steven looked up as the door opened. The clerk silently beckoned us out with a curl of his finger. Without another word, we followed him and took up our places behind the table. Across the room, Alison Dorling and Georgia Thomas did the same. What I really wanted to do was take a better look at Jared’s mother, or even speak to her alone, much as it would pain me. However, I sensed any approach I attempted to make would be seen as hostile. I had no choice but to wait.

  “We accept the second charge,” said Lisette and a small gasp ran throu
gh the audience. “Silence!” When the room resumed its hush, Lisette continued. “We will hear the opening statement, now encompassing both charges from the prosecution, as well as the defence, before we make a decision as to the trial’s merit.”

  Sitting beside me, Steven did not make any move or sound, although I expected him to object loudly at the preposterous nature of the claims. Evidently, that wasn’t the way things worked here. Steven remained silent as Georgia rounded the desk and took up her position, standing side on to make herself visible to both the judiciary and the audience as she spoke. Today, she wore a simple, navy blue suit, a white blouse and low heels. Her hair was swept into a chignon and small studs glittered from her ear lobes. She looked smart, professional, and trustworthy. I knew she definitely wasn’t any of those virtuous adjectives and wondered how Alison could have been encouraged to bring the case after waiting longer than a year. I wondered if it was Georgia who persuaded her, picking this moment on the cusp of the Summit.

  “The time has come to lay to rest the rumours regarding the events surrounding Eleanor Bartholomew’s death,” she started, in a clear voice as she addressed the judiciary, and before turning to the audience. “The initial enquiry was flawed. Mistakes were made. Those who survived were not interviewed in detail about the events of that day, and one was never interviewed at all. Did Stella Mayweather act in self defence? Or was she actually responsible for the gruesome slaughter of Eleanor Bartholomew? We have all asked these questions. She claims that it was in self defence, but was it really? And during the struggle which preceded the killing, did she indirectly cause the deaths of the young people who were present in that house? They included a young warlock, Jared Dorling, whose unlimited potential shone brilliantly and was snuffed out because of Stella Mayweather’s actions.” Georgia turned her eyes on the judiciary. “We have clear evidence that spotlights Stella Mayweather as nothing more than a common murderer, shielded under the protection of the Winterstorms. We demand that she be brought to justice.”