by C. P. Foster
For the first time, she raised her head to stare at him.
“Yes.”
“So, you were cared for.”
“Cared for.” She drew out the words. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
“No? Didn’t my son and his enclave tend to you when you were injured, giving you their own blood?”
“They wanted to keep us alive so they could continue to abuse us.”
He ignored that.
“And when did you first meet Vanessa Van Sickle?”
“A few days before the—at a party in the warehouse. The slaves were cleaned up and brought out after the hors d’oeuvres were served. We were the main course.”
“She participated in this party.”
“Yes…”
Romero looked around the room, chin lifting as though he had scored a point.
“…and no,” Sarah continued. “She made an excuse to take me into a private room and told me she and some others were going to rescue us. She wanted me to help when the time came.”
“Rescue you?” he snapped. “From what? A home in which you were fed, clothed, healed whenever you were injured?”
“From slavery.”
“So you claim.”
Sarah looked at the floor again, careful to hide the rage bubbling to the surface. She had to keep it buried, to show nothing but her fear and hurt.
“It’s true,” she whispered. “They kept us in the cellar, living in our own filth. They only fed us enough to keep us alive, and only gave us clothes when they wanted to serve us up to their guests. They—”
He interrupted, speaking over her soft voice. “Antonio took in humans who had no other place to go. Did he expect something in return? Of course, but that isn’t unreasonable.”
“Was it reasonable for him to rape us, to hurt us over and over, to let his guests kill one of us whenever they felt like it? Is that what vampires call reasonable?” Her tone rose to a quavering pitch, not a shout of anger but verging on tears. Sarah hunched her shoulders and put her face in her hands.
Romero was quiet for a moment, then said, “When Vanessa Van Sickle got you alone, did she question you about the security of the keep?”
“Yes. She needed to plan how to get us out.”
“You told her all you could about the keep’s defenses?”
“Yes.”
“Then she knew there was an alarm, and that it would bring Antonio and the others back immediately. She planned to be there when they arrived, and spring her trap, but she covered her bases by making it look like she was trying to ‘rescue’ her beloved humans.”
Sarah shook her head all through this speech, and as soon as he stopped, she blurted, “I didn’t tell her about the alarm because I didn’t know it was there. It had never gone off before, and I wasn’t allowed close enough to the doors to see it.”
Romero waved this away with a disgusted snort. “Humans are unreliable witnesses, as we all know. I won’t waste my time any further.”
The judges—she didn’t know what else to call them—watched him return to his seat and fold his arms. No one told her they were finished, so she waited, not wanting to leave the stage without permission.
“James Morgan,” the lead judge said finally. “You have questions for the witness?”
The vampire who had been seated next to Vanessa rose and came to stand a few yards to Sarah’s right. He was only a little taller than she, perhaps five feet nine or so. Morgan nodded respectfully to the panel, then turned his attention to her. Meeting his eyes, Sarah had the feeling he took in every detail about her.
“Miss Miller,” he began. “How did you come to be in Antonio Romero’s keep?”
It took a moment to find her voice, and when she did it came out tight. “He bought me from another vampire. I think he paid a hundred dollars, but I’m not sure.”
“This vampire owned you?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?”
“It…it’s a long story.”
“Take all the time you need.” He sounded gentle, and she thought she caught the slightest hint of a smile around the corners of his eyes. “We are patient.”
So she took a deep breath and told them the whole thing, from her senior prom to the final degradation.
When she fell silent, Romero got to his feet. “I protest. The advocate for the accused is trying to make this about the human. This proceeding is about the murder of my son!”
“I must respectfully disagree.” Morgan remained calm, but his voice took on a hard edge. “The plight of the humans in our hands is at the heart of this case. These abuses cannot be allowed to continue, not if we expect to survive into the next century. Your son was caught committing a crime, and he tried to kill those who would expose him.”
“What crime? You have no proof, just the biased testimony of a murderer and a human!”
There it was again, that tiny spark of amusement in James’s eyes. Sarah was sure she saw it this time.
“Not so.” One of the judges, a male with close-cropped black hair, spoke. “We have photographs and videotape of your son’s ‘philanthropy.’ Do not waste our time with protestations of his innocence. Do either of you have any further questions for this witness?”
“There is nothing she can possibly add to this proceeding.” Romero made a gesture as if shooing a fly.
“I have nothing further,” Morgan said.
“Very well.” The lead judge nodded to Sarah. “Take a seat. If you are required again, we will call you.”
She wanted to sit next to Vanessa, but her guards led her to the back of the auditorium. One sat on either side of her, uncomfortably close. The fine hairs on her arms bristled as several of the vampires turned to watch. They were quiet and showed little emotion. These weren’t like the vampires who had passed her around. They seemed less hungry. Or maybe they’d just learned to hide it better.
Now Morgan brought forward a vampire who had worked with Vanessa on other raids. Fact-finding missions, he called them.
“The purpose,” the witness explained, “Was to get solid evidence of abuses that were going unchecked. The Covenant will not act without proof, and the criminals are not likely to offer it themselves.”
Sarah leaned toward one of her guards and whispered, “What is this Covenant, anyway?”
She looked at Sarah. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Ask Debra to explain later. This isn’t the place.” She turned her attention back to the proceedings.
It bothered Sarah, not understanding what was going on. This was important. She could tell Vanessa was in trouble, and wasn’t sure whether she’d helped or not. It surprised her to discover she wanted to.
Last of all, the accused herself was brought forward. Vanessa stood with her shoulders straight, head up, hands at her sides. She looked almost calm as she faced the panel of judges.
Romero stepped onto the stage and said, “You and your creator are close, are you not?”
“We are.”
“And you share the same political views?”
“We agree on many things. Not on everything.”
“Do the two of you agree that you would prefer someone else on the throne in Texas? Someone besides me or my child? Remember, you are required to tell the truth here.”
Vanessa hesitated. Her head turned slightly toward James, but she did not actually look at him.
“Yes,” she said. “We do.”
From where she sat at the back of the auditorium, Sarah saw the spectators stir. It was like watching statues come to life.
“James Morgan is, I believe, something of a puppet master. He acts behind the scenes, maneuvering those in power like pieces on a chessboard, and you are his queen, moving at will all over the board to achieve his aims.”
“Is that a question?”
Romero paced across the stage, ending nearly close enough to touch her. “Do you deny helping him with his political agenda?”
&nb
sp; Vanessa's body radiated tension, but she did not move, just held her ground as though her feet had been nailed to the floor. “I act as I see fit. Sometimes to help my creator, sometimes for reasons of my own.”
“But you share many of his goals, and because you are younger you can get away with acting more rashly. He can stand back and look like the wise elder while you charge into the fray, fighting battles for him. Isn’t that right, Miss Van Sickle?”
“No.”
“Oh? So you didn’t travel to Dallas to investigate so-called crimes against humans at his suggestion?”
“No. He objects to my methods.”
“Of course he does,” Romero mocked. “And last year, didn’t you offer the Ruler of Mexico City financial support from your creator in exchange for ending his alliance with my territory?”
“We made charitable donations to the survivors of an earthquake. It had nothing to do with politics.”
“So it was just a coincidence that he broke diplomatic ties with my realm shortly after your donation.” He emphasized the last word with a sneer.
She said nothing.
“Five years ago, just before the Four Corners Province seceded from the Southwestern Territory, did you arrange for its Lord to enter into negotiations with the Monarch of the Southern California Territory?”
“Lord Maria Elena Vasquez requested we set up a meeting.”
“Because Morgan suggested it might be to her advantage.”
Silence again.
Romero sauntered away. He looked out over the spectators and kept his back to her when he finally said, “I’m finished with this witness.”
Here and there, pairs of vampires inclined their heads toward each other to murmur a comment. Sarah noticed some nodding. Couldn’t they see what Romero was doing? Did they think Antonio hadn’t actually committed the crimes he’d been accused of? The judges said they had evidence. Maybe these vampires didn’t think it mattered as much as the political considerations. That made sense to her. When had she ever seen a vampire who gave a damn about a human, other than as a source of amusement or food? Never. Except Vanessa and her friends.
There was no way for James to undo the damage, not when he was being accused alongside her. When the judges turned to him, he shook his head. “No questions.”
The accused was allowed to return to her seat, where she sat stiffly, not looking at her creator or anyone else.
After conferring among themselves, the judges sat back and their chief rose to her feet. “All the testimony has been heard. All the evidence has been presented. You may each make one final statement before we deliberate.”
Romero took the stage first. His voice echoed through the auditorium as he performed for his audience like an actor.
“Your Honors, do not be distracted by idealistic rhetoric. The facts are these—Vanessa Van Sickle trespassed on my son’s home, and when he returned to defend his keep, she murdered him. Her excuse is that she wants to compel the Covenant to enforce the new laws it has set forth. But the treatment of humans is not our only concern. The other goal of the Covenant is to end our petty squabbles and build stability. It is for this reason we have also made laws against assassination, acts of aggression between nations, and coup attempts from within. If we are to enforce our laws, we must enforce all of them. Do not allow her and her creator to get away with this blatant undermining of the power of a Monarch.”
With a flourish, he gave the stage over to the advocate for the accused.
James Morgan took a moment to look each of the judges in the eye. Then he spoke in his firm, quiet tone. “It is true the new laws were written with both of these purposes in mind—to stabilize our nations and to change our relationship with humans. But political maneuvering is not illegal. Only open aggression between states or individuals. Among the nations that have joined the Covenant, stability has already been accomplished, for the most part. Attitudes and behavior toward humans, however, have changed very little.
“The members of the Covenant agree things must change if we are to survive the evolution of humankind, yet we do not take the steps necessary to make it so.” A note of anger entered his voice. “It will not happen on its own. We must do what is necessary instead of simply making proclamations. It is our lack of action that has given rise to vigilantes such as my child. I do not agree with her methods, but she is trying to do what her elders will not.” His anger softened into gentle reproach. “Ladies, Gentlemen, the abuses committed by vampires like Antonio Romero cannot go unpunished. The accused did not plan to kill him, only to expose him for making a mockery of the Covenant and so endangering our very survival. It is tempting to hide behind the fear of upheaval among our nations rather than face the fact that we cannot continue to ride the fence on the matter of humankind. I ask you, do not give in to that temptation.”
James bowed his head respectfully and returned to his seat. The judges glanced at one another. The one in the middle nodded; then they all stood and filed off stage through a back door.
Sarah looked back and forth between her guards. “What happens now?”
“We wait. When they’ve made their decision, they will return,” the one on her left answered.
“Can I sit with Vanessa?”
The guards exchanged a shrug, then stood. Sarah walked with them down the aisle, uneasy about her own feelings, unhappy to be having them at all. The world was a much better place when she felt nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
I'm for absolute autonomy of the individual, and an adult, competent woman has absolute autonomy. It's her choice.
—Jack Kevorkian
“We’ll go to my haven tonight,” James informed Angie, indicating a helicopter waiting nearby. The pilot began his flight check as the three of them approached, and the helicopter’s blades were turning by the time they had settled inside and stored her luggage securely.
“Do you think I was followed?” She had to shout to be heard over the noise.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Vanessa shouted back. “And if you were, all they’ll learn is that you’re going to James Morgan’s haven. Unless they can get someone here fast who doesn’t mind sunlight, they’ll lose your trail when you leave at dawn.”
In less than an hour, they landed at the haven overlooking Dungeness Bay in Sequim, Washington. It was a compound consisting of a main house and two guest cottages situated on twenty-five acres of land. The chopper set down on a broad expanse of lawn and took off again as soon as they had disembarked. A security team met them on the way to the house. Once inside, James’s human companion, Ivy, took the bags. He murmured something to her, and she left.
As soon as she was gone, he turned to the head of his security team. “We’ll be in my study. Put someone outside the door, and see we aren’t disturbed.”
His study was a soundproof room lined with bookshelves and furnished like an early twentieth-century men’s club with leather furniture, an antique desk, thick Persian rugs, and a wet bar. Once inside, he picked up a phone and dialed.
“My agents in Reno called as soon as you were in the air,” Vanessa explained to Angie. “They reported what they’d seen, but we need to hear it from you, starting at the beginning. James is putting together a conference call with all the Council members we can reach on such short notice. It’s only an hour until dawn on the East Coast, so we have to hurry.”
Angie went to the bar and helped herself to a glass of scotch. The prospect of talking to the Covenant Council unnerved her more than her encounter with the two Monarchs. She reminded herself that the timbre of her voice had changed along with speech patterns and accent; the chances of anyone recognizing her from hearing her speak were a million to one. Besides, if Steffen Scott hadn’t figured out who she was, it was highly unlikely anyone else would.
A hand touched her arm. Angie looked around to meet Vanessa’s gaze and held it for several moments before downing the contents of her glass.
Of the Covenant’s thirty-three me
mbers, twenty-seven sovereigns or their representatives joined the conference call. Angie recognized some of the voices that announced their presence on the line: Ah-set, the chairperson, with her soft, imperious tones. A Texan’s drawl from Sutherland, the Ruler of Dallas. Delacroix, the Lord of the Southern Louisiana Province, who had twice employed her services. There were others she did not recognize. Some were representatives she had never had cause to meet. Others were new sovereigns, having taken over the lands of those she had known before. Once everyone was on the line, James explained the situation, and then nodded for her to speak.
“Time is short,” she said, “So I’ll be brief and you can ask questions afterward. It started with a phone call from Evan Samuels, Soul Killer’s human companion. He mentioned one of my former clients as a reference, and I neglected to verify that this was true. Obviously, that was careless on my part.”
She went on, explaining how the Monarch wanted to offer a session with her as a gift to the Monarch of the Rocky Mountain Territory, and how she had been pressured into meeting with Soul Killer if only to turn her down in person. Angie outlined the discussion she and James had had and the plan they’d formed to drive a wedge between the Monarchs, then at last described in detail the meeting in Reno.
There was silence when she finished. Steffen Scott broke it, his voice low and furious. “Are you two insane? James, what the hell were you thinking? You knew the risk, how could you let her—”
“He didn’t let me do anything,” Angie interrupted. “It was my decision, and I knew the risk.”
“She will hunt you, Ange—Miss Devereaux. And who knows what Rimbeau will do? You will probably need protection until the day you die.”
“Or until Soul Killer does,” Vanessa muttered.
“Lord Scott,” Angie said, “the work I do is not without its dangers. I have taken measures for my safety. Vampires know me under this identity, but it is a cutout, a dead end. My true name and my life outside the services I offer your species is a well-kept secret. The threat she represents is real, but not as dire as you believe.”
