by Izzy Shows
“Wait! I need to lift the wards,” I said, panic rising in my voice. I couldn’t leave Fred unprotected.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “We will need access to your residence if you are convicted.”
Why? I didn’t ask the question burning on my lips, instead swallowing the word like a bitter pill. Then I remembered that Fred had lowered the wards for Kailan, and again two years ago to allow Finn and Shawn to get into my home while I was unconscious. He could put them back up again. That was a relief.
He dragged me down my steps, his strong hold on my forearm keeping me from falling when I stumbled, and a moment later threw me into the backseat of a car. I screamed when I landed on my broken arm and twisted around to get my weight off of it. “Fuck you,” I said, snarling, though I had no idea where he was.
He laughed at me, the prick.
I heard the car door slam, and my weight was thrown back against the seat as we took off a little too fast for my liking, but I obviously didn’t have a say in any of it.
I leaned forward. “Isn’t all of this a little much? The handcuffs, the blindfold, the speeding car?” I couldn’t stop myself from quipping at him. It was a default setting for me whenever I was in a stressful situation.
“You are not allowed to know the location of the Order’s headquarters. You will remain blindfolded until we are inside, and if you are somehow cleared of your charges, you will be allowed to see on the way out.”
At least he wasn’t keeping information from me. That was one up side to the whole ordeal. I sighed and settled back against the seat, knowing it was useless to try to keep up conversation with the man. I assumed he was Gregor, the commander who had written the letter informing me of my impending arrest, but he hadn’t exactly stopped to introduce himself.
Forcing myself to relax somewhat, I silently counted my breaths until I had reached a state where I wasn’t quite panicking anymore. I let my awareness stretch out in the car and counted three energy signatures. The cuffs might prevent me from attacking with magic, but they didn’t seem to do anything to prevent me from doing passive readings.
There were two ahead of me—Gregor and someone else in the passenger seat—and one beside me, although there was something off about that one. I tried to concentrate, but then I felt myself shoved hard against the door.
A cry broke from my lips as the pain lanced through my arm yet again. Gods above, these assholes really didn’t care that I was already beaten and broken. I hated that they were forcing these sounds of weakness from me. I knew it made me look bad, but there was nothing I could do about it, nothing I could do to stop them or my own reflexes.
I struggled to sit upright again, breathing hard, and didn’t extend my senses a second time. That had clearly been a reaction to my reaching out; they didn’t want me picking up any information.
Just then, I felt the brush of someone or something against my arm, and I stiffened, my body reflexively straining away from the source of physical contact.
“You’re going to die, you know,” a masculine voice said, low and soft. Whoever it was, he didn’t want the others to hear him taunting me. I gritted my teeth and turned my head away, determined to ignore this person. “You’re already guilty. The death sentence just has to be handed down. I could take your cuffs off, let you attack us, if you wanted to die quickly. The executioner won’t show you mercy.”
“Tempting, but I’d rather have someone not so creepy kill me,” I said, making sure to raise my voice so Gregor and his friend would know this conversation was taking place.
“Dimitri, are you talking to the prisoner?”
I smiled smugly, knowing that I’d got him into trouble.
Dimitri immediately shifted away from me—Gods, but I rejoiced at the space between us now. There was something off about him, something wrong, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. All I knew for sure was that I wanted him as far away from me as was possible. In fact, I shifted myself farther away, until I felt the door brush against my arm. I would have pressed closer to it, but I didn’t want to do more harm to my arm than they already had. I knew there would be more pain for me in the future coming from them, and I didn’t need to help them out with it.
“I didn’t say anything to her,” the fucker lied.
I knew there was no use in pointing out that he had, in fact, said something. Or that the something was that I was going to die; Gregor would probably laugh at me again and agree with him, and I didn’t care to hear that. The truth stood out loud and clear, though: I wouldn’t have responded to nothing if he hadn’t said something to me.
“You know better than to talk to the prisoners, Dimitri. Get yourself under control.”
I smirked, settling in for a long car ride filled with silence.
Ten
I managed to doze off on the car ride, which was a mercy considering how little I had slept the night before my arrest. It wasn’t something I had actively sought—I wouldn’t have wanted to sleep in the back seat with that creep—but I couldn’t resist the pull of sleep when it came for me.
The next thing I knew was that I was being rudely awakened as the door was yanked away from me and I almost spilled out onto the concrete. A hand shoved against my head, keeping me in the car, before I was ordered to get out.
“You have ten seconds to start moving before I grab that broken arm of yours.”
This time, I didn’t hesitate to obey. I didn’t want my arm to hurt any more than it already was, so I struggled out of the vehicle as best I could. As soon as I was out, a hand clamped down on my forearm again, and I was dragged forward.
I didn’t know where I was going, obviously, and it all I could do to try to keep up. It was either that or stumble and fall, and I had the sinking suspicion that my captor wouldn’t wait for me to stand up again, that he would rather keep dragging me along the ground.
“Steps.”
That was all the warning I got to keep me from tripping. I managed the steps as well as could be expected, but they didn’t warn me when they ended, so I almost fell on my face at the top when I tried to step up again. The hand around my forearm kept me upright, though it almost wrenched my arm out of its socket.
I snarled again, feeling more like a rabid animal than a human at the moment, and about ready to bite someone. It was a good thing I couldn’t see, or else I might have turned and taken a chunk out of the man dragging me along.
We paused long enough for a door to open, and once inside, we halted again. The blindfold was taken away abruptly, and I winced at the sudden influx of light. Thank the Gods, I could see again, no matter how much it hurt at first.
We were standing in a large hall, the floor and walls of which were made of white marble, and across the room was a desk with a woman sitting at it. It all had a very Grecian feel to it, and I wondered if that was where the Order had originated. I doubted I was going to get a history lesson; this was all going to be kept straight and to the point, if my arrest was any indication of what was to come.
The man I assumed to be Gregor reached for my arm again, but I skirted away from him. “I can walk,” I said, glaring at him.
He shrugged, and I had to fight with myself to keep from grinning. Small victories. They had to be taken where you could get them. He walked ahead of me, and I followed diligently, the footsteps at my back convincing me that there was no point in making a run for it.
Yet.
I didn’t know where I was, and that was a count against running away as well, but maybe I could figure something out. I didn’t intend to die. I had told Fred as much, and I had to figure out a way to make good on that.
We walked up to the desk, and Gregor leaned against it while I kept my distance. He spoke quietly to the secretary—I couldn’t hear what he was saying—then he stood upright again and signalled for me to follow.
I will not roll my eyes, I thought as I walked after him. I will maintain the proper decorum that would make Emily proud.
He led
me down several flights of stairs, and when we reached the bottom, I realised that we were entering what looked very much like a dungeon. It certainly wasn’t a modern prison. He opened one of the cell doors and gestured for me to go inside.
“I thought we were going to my hearing.” I knew I should probably keep quiet and do as I was told, but I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up.
“No,” he said, and that was obviously all he was going to say on the matter.
I gritted my teeth and walked through, turning to watch as he shut the cell door and locked it. I didn’t know what was going on anymore, and that really bothered me. I didn’t like not being in control of a situation, as evidenced by the multitude of times I had refused to let my friends become involved in my fights.
I was a control freak, OK? I couldn’t help it.
He stared at me for a moment, squinting and eyeing me up and down as if he was trying to make sense of me, before he turned and walked away. I shrugged; there was no sense in wondering what he was thinking. He’d already called me a Warlock. He clearly thought I was guilty and was just waiting for my hearing to be over so I would be dead and gone. A nuisance on his otherwise busy day, I was sure.
I heard a shifting sound behind me and spun around to see what I had originally thought was a pile of bedding extend itself into the form of a woman. She looked dirty at first glance, like she had been left down here for quite a while, and I began to worry that I was going to rot down here and would never get to my hearing, where I could defend myself.
Why go through the proper procedures when you could just lock someone up and throw away the key? What if Gregor had told the woman at the counter not to ‘check me in,’ or whatever the process was?
The woman stood up and walked over to stand in front of me with quick, jerky movements.
“You won’t last long in here,” she said, sneering at me. She had a heavy Cockney accent.
I drew myself up, nostrils flaring as I looked down at her. She was a full head shorter than I, though that didn’t seem to bother her. Whatever. I might have a broken arm, but that wasn’t going to hold me back.
“You’re gonna get chewed up and spat out before they ever get a hold of you. Maybe they won’t kill you. Maybe they’ll just leave you to us. Or maybe I’ll get rid of you right here, right now.” She bared her teeth at me.
My instinct was to flinch and move away, to put space between the two of us so I could prepare myself for a fight. But I forced myself to remain calm, to size up my opponent and let her know there wasn’t anything she could do that was going to intimidate me.
My eyes narrowed as I took in her appearance. Her cheeks were dirty, but they didn’t have the worn look of someone who had lived like that for years, not even for months. Her crystal blue eyes were sharp and unclouded by drug or alcohol abuse. Her teeth, which she had so kindly bared at me, were perfectly aligned and far too white for a poor person. I lowered my gaze to take in the rest of her body. She was fit and healthy—that was what I was seeing in front of me.
This was no hedge witch, brought in by the guards for holding.
“You’re here to scare me,” I said at last, grinning. “You’re not going to do anything to me. You’re probably part of the First Hand, just trying to give me a good scare.”
They wanted me to confess to killing Deacon; I was sure of it now. That gave me hope, because if they were trying to get a confession from me, maybe that meant they didn’t have much on me. Maybe they wouldn’t pronounce me guilty after all.
The woman sneered at me again, taking a step back as her gaze moved over me just as mine had done to her. “You’re smart, but that won’t get you far here. Like I said: you won’t last long.”
“You don’t know how long I’ll last,” I said, taking a step forward, crowding her. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and, love, I’m resilient. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s get my arse out of a tricky situation.”
There was no way this would be more difficult than fighting my way through a house filled with vampires.
I could do this.
Eleven
Someone came for the woman, and I was left by myself for what felt like hours. I didn’t know how long I was down there—there was no daylight with which to measure time, and there certainly wasn’t a clock to help me out. All I had was myself, without even a guard watching over me so I could keep myself entertained.
Finally, the first guard—I was still pretty sure it was Gregor—came to collect me. He opened the cell door without a word and ushered me forward. I didn’t waste any time being obtuse about it; I went with him. I didn’t want to sit down in that cell any longer than was necessary, and I certainly wasn’t going to make an attempt to run away from down there.
I was on high alert, darting a look about as he took me back up the stairs. We didn’t go back to the first hall, though, where the doors were, and I quickly realised that we were going down a hallway I didn’t recognise. My heart began to race as I understood that there was going to be no daring escape. I was going to have to face the music.
My steps slowed as my breathing shallowed, then sped up, and my head grew dizzy.
I was having a panic attack.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through with this. Oh, Gods, I wasn’t ready to die.
Please don’t let me die. I didn’t know who I was talking to, but I’d settle for anyone who was willing to help me.
“Keep moving!” Gregor shouted, stopping to turn around and grip me by the forearm again. He dragged me forward, through a set of double doors, and threw me the last few paces.
I stumbled, barely managing to stay upright, and looked up at the panel of judges in front of me. I clutched my bound hands against my chest, since there was nowhere else to put them with one arm in a sling. There were thirteen judges, spread out in a half circle, and most them were scowling down at me. Old white men, mostly, though I did spy a little bit of diversity. There were two younger men, one with dark black skin and the other with a tan that couldn’t possibly go away no matter what season it was. They were the only ones who didn’t look to be in their sixties, though they were certainly older than I.
“Step forward, Blair Sheach.” An old white man in the centre of the half-circle spoke, pointing at the stand in front of them.
I walked forward, forcing my numb legs to move, until I was standing before them. I was on something of a dais with a railing around it, and I leaned against it for stability. I needed that stability now, something to give me strength through this moment.
I knew it wasn’t going to end well.
“You are accused of the unlawful practice of magic. Do you deny it?”
“No, sir,” I said, lifting my chin. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight, but I also wasn’t going to lie. “I have been practicing magic in the service of protecting the citizens of London, whom you left unprotected, for the past two years.”
A buzz broke out amongst the judges, some of them turning to the Wizard who was sitting beside them to speak in whispers about what I had said.
“Silence!” The man in the centre spoke again, lifting his hand and cutting it to the side. The lot of them quieted down instantly.
He was clearly the leader of this little get-together, and, judging by the scowl on his face, he didn’t like me one bit.
That’s OK, you old fart. I don’t like you, either, I thought, though it didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t like any of them, because they were sitting there deciding whether to kill me.
And I had already admitted being guilty of what they were accusing me of, but what else was I supposed to do? Deny that I had been using magic? They probably had evidence to the contrary, and I wasn’t about to get caught in a lie.
“What do you mean, they’ve been left unprotected?” He leaned forward, squinting as he peered down at me.
I gaped at them. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t known about Aidan. How had that slipped past them?
“You don’t know?” And now my shock turned to anger. “You don’t keep track of anything at all, do you?”
“How dare you speak to us like this!” A man on the edge spoke, and the stand I was on swivelled to face him, my weight on the railing the only thing that kept me upright.
Ah, so that was what that was for.
I glared back at him. “Because you don’t even know that one of your own is dead.”
“Wallace cannot be dead.”
A voice from the other side came forth, and the stand swivelled again. I was going to get sick on this thing; I just knew it. I hadn’t banked on a fucking fairground ride. Was it really necessary to keep turning me? Couldn’t I just turn my head?
Fucking pretentious shits.
“Well, he is. Haven’t you heard about Tyburn Tree?” I gave him my best ‘What the fuck did you think?’ face and hoped that it got the message across. “He died there.”
More murmurs broke out. I glanced around at the lot of them and found that the younger, tanned one was staring straight at me. I couldn’t hold his gaze—it was too intense—so I shifted to the person beside him, who was talking to his neighbour. I didn’t know why he was looking at me so hard, but I was willing to bet it wasn’t because he thought I was telling the truth.
I was beginning to see that no one was going to believe a word I said.
“It’s true that we haven’t heard a word from Aidan in two years.”
I was surprised to find that it was the tanned one speaking, though he kept staring at me the entire time, not turning his head to direct his words at any of the other Wizards. I was even more surprised to hear his accent—American. What was an American doing on a board of British Wizards?
