Wolf Games: Severed Fates (The Vampire Games Book 6)
Page 25
Fear itched at my heart as I wondered whether this was the choice the Oracle, Montague, had spoken of.
Mortifer raised her chin, her headdress clinking as the metal chains touched together. “How do you plead?” she demanded.
I shut my eyes, taking a steadying breath.
Be brave. Do what is right.
“Guilty,” I announced and I could almost feel Colt's sigh blow over me. What did he care anyway?
The Hunters began muttering, some sounded surprised. I caught words like 'blood-traitor' and 'abnormal behaviour'.
Mortifer nodded firmly, turning her attention to Colt.
Before she spoke, I cut in, “But I'd like to say something in my defence.”
Mortifer regarded me and some of the Hunters turned my way. I caught sight of my cousin, Dawn, her hair concealed in a sheath of white silk, containing her golden locks within it. She quickly redirected her gaze to Mortifer, her cheeks pinking. Was she embarrassed of me? Or did she care I was being convicted?
I took another shaky breath, digging deep for my strength. “I think the death games the Hunters host, including my parents, are outdated, barbaric practises. And it's time it was recognised. As the Watchers, isn't it your duty to protect Hunters and Immortals? They have been forced into slavery by us and I'm not sure that was ever part of the old laws.”
My voice echoed back to me through the cavernous room, reaching up to the arching ceiling of carved stone.
Mortifer's lips pursed ever-so-slightly. “The Hunters are sanctioned to keep the Immortals under control. The games you speak of lie within the law. So, Mercy Helsing, I find you guilty of your crimes and sentence you to sixty years in Dødstårn.”
My gut plummeted and panic clutched my heart with sharp talons.
Mortifer turned to Colt, my case evidently closed. “Accolt Jones you have been accused of murdering eight Hunters over a period of ten years. How do you plead?”
The chains around Colt's hands clinked as he considered the question. “Not guilty.”
A commotion broke out amongst the Hunters, some turning toward him and shouting abuse.
One man got to his feet. “You killed my uncle you disgusting half-blood! You are not even a true Hunter. You insult the half of yourself that is pure.”
Colt shrugged in answer and my eyes widened at his casual demeanour. Didn't he care about what was happening?
“Accolt Jones, you are called to the stand to be questioned in connection with your crimes before the courtroom.” Mortifer waved to one of her jackal-masked companions and he strode toward Colt's cage, unlocking it and tugging him roughly out by the arm.
Colt was dragged up to a podium beside Mortifer and the figure in white robes drifted closer to him.
Colt gazed back at the room, his mouth flat.
Mortifer turned to him. “Eye-witnesses named you as the culprit for many of the crimes. Even your own father, Rockley Jones, has denounced you as the perpetrator. Do you still plead your innocence?”
Colt cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Then you will now be subject to the hands of the Oracle present here today, to confirm your guilt.” Mortifer waved a hand and the white-robed person moved behind Colt, laying their hands on his shoulders.
He jerked violently then fell to the floor with a loud thud, roaring in pain.
He spasmed under the touch of the Oracle and my gut writhed at the memory of how it felt to have your thoughts rifled through like that.
The Oracle eventually stood upright, speaking to the room, their voice female and soft. “I see the blood this man has spilled. I see the blade he used, I see the severed necks and I feel the lack of remorse in their killer.”
Colt was hauled to his feet by two Jackals and he gazed out at the Hunters, panting.
“Do you still deny your guilt?” Mortifer demanded harshly.
Colt took a heavy breath. “I am innocent for this reason alone: the men and women I killed were vile excuses for people on earth. I saw it fit to remove them from the world with brute force. And frankly, I would kill most of you in this courtroom if you handed me a sharp enough blade. If that makes me guilty in your eyes, then fine. But I will not admit to a crime that I believe was nothing more than justice.”
A collective inhale sounded from the Hunters. Even I was mildly surprised, despite never having doubted his guilt. But somehow, the man who stood before me, the one I'd come to know since arriving in Alfric Hund's house, didn't add up with this vicious killer.
“Then it is done,” Mortifer said. “Accolt Jones, I find you guilty of your crimes, and sentence you to one hundred and eighty years in Dødstårn.”
“The Vs will string you up and bleed you dry in the first week,” one of the Hunters said, laughing with a couple of the others.
My gut writhed.
Colt met my eye as a Jackal dragged me out of my cage, marching me toward him. Five more Jackals surrounded us, guiding us toward a door at the far end of the room. Black and ominous. Beyond it, was my fate. A fate that would certainly lead me to death. Because there was no way I would survive Dødstårn. I was an untrained Hunter. I didn't stand a chance.
But the small inch of humanity I'd had squashed inside me my whole life, bloomed and blossomed, telling me I was on the right path. However dark it may be.
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