by Juniper Hart
“Bailiff, call in the jury.”
Around him, Henry heard the click of recorders as the reporters leaned in eagerly to listen to what was about to unfold.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Bains said when they were seated. “I have decided to have you sequestered for the duration of this trial. There will be far too much media coverage on this high-profile case, and I can’t have you tainted by the opinions expressed by the media.”
Suddenly, Carmen seemed a lot less nervous, and he shot Henry a grateful look, even though the jury seemed put-off by the news.
“I am postponing the first day of trial until tomorrow,” Judge Bains continued. “So that you might get settled in your new quarters and we can start fresh.”
“But Your Honor!” Gillian gasped, but the judge held up his hand.
“You’re dismissed, ladies and gentlemen.”
There was a murmuring in the courtroom as the reporters muttered to one another, and when the jury filed out, Gillian exploded in anger.
“That’s unnecessary, Your Honor!” the prosecutor claimed, the smirk she’d initially worn completely wiped from her pinched face.
“It was either that or a change of venue,” Judge Bains replied easily. “I wasn’t going to make it so easy for Mr. Brandis, either.”
Gillian glared hatefully at Henry, but he shrugged, winking at her across the aisle.
“Nine a.m. tomorrow,” the judge said curtly. “And Mr. Brandis…”
“Your Honor?”
“Get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“All rise!” the bailiff called, and they obliged again.
“You think that prolonging this is going to give a different result, Henry?” Gillian bit at him when the judge was out of earshot. “Think again.”
“Like I said, Gilly, I’m eager to see my client’s name cleared,” Henry said. “You might want to talk to your star witness, however. It might come as a surprise to you to find out what she does for a second job… and what the CCTV cameras caught her doing the night she claims she saw my client leaving his ex-wife’s house.” He nodded toward Marjorie and Carmen. “Looks like we have a free morning. Who’s up for breakfast?”
At that moment, he felt the vibrations of his cell inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket. His phone from the Council.
“Excuse me,” he said, reaching for the cell. He moved outside the courtroom and looked at the screen.
She shouldn’t be calling me, Henry thought, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he answered, clearing his throat. “Henry Brandis.”
“Uh…” Lane’s voice was soft, whispery, like she was hoping not to be overheard.
“Is something wrong, Lane?” he asked quietly. “Something you need?”
“How did you know it was me?”
He blinked at the inane question. “Call display,” he replied. “Your name comes up when you call.”
“Oh.”
Henry wondered if she knew what he was talking about. “Lane, I’m glad you called, but you shouldn’t unless it’s related to council matters… Not on this phone.”
“It’s the only phone I have.”
“Where are you, Lane?”
“At home,” she answered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“No, no, wait,” he said, sensing she was going to hang up. “Can I take you out for breakfast?”
There was a long pause.
“I don’t know…”
“Why not?”
“My mom… She’s at work…”
“I can pick you up. What’s your address?”
“I…” He heard her inhale. “I don’t know.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen.
“Just wait there,” he told her and realized how lame the words sounded. It seemed like she was trapped at her house. Where was she going to go? “I’m on my way.”
“This was a bad idea,” Lane mumbled. “Just forget I called. I’m sorry.” She disconnected the call, and Henry stood, as confused as he was concerned.
“Ready for that breakfast?” Marjorie asked, and Henry shook his head.
“Sorry, something came up. I’ll have to take a rain check on that.”
Marjorie eyed the phone in his hand. “Council matters? Is the new one acting out of line already?”
Henry bristled. “You’re going to need to learn how to mind your own business and use some discretion in public, Marjorie.”
She sulked, but Henry was already turning away from her, reaching for his personal cell and dialing out to his private investigator.
“Charlie, I need you to do a trace on a phone number I’m going to text you,” he instructed when a male answered the call. Henry knew how risky it was to distribute the Council phone numbers, but Charlie was a mortal, and one who had been trusted time and again with his personal matters.
“You got it, boss.”
“Are you putting a trace on the Council phone?” Marjorie gasped, and Henry spun back, his pulse racing slightly as the vampire gaped at him. “Is that legal?”
Henry hissed at her, baring his teeth in fury. “Marjorie, you are coming dangerously close to crossing a line with me,” he spat. “Get out of my face and take Carmen to breakfast.”
She stared at him in disbelief, but she didn’t argue. Henry watched as she walked away before sending Charlie the text with Lane’s phone number.
Is she going to be a problem? he wondered, gnawing on the insides of his cheeks so hard, he tasted blood.
He hoped not, but at that moment, Marjorie was the least of his worries. His biggest concern was what was going on with Lane Aldwin.
6
Lane threw the phone on the bed like it had caught fire and struggled to steady her breathing.
Why did I do that? That was so stupid!
It was almost as if she’d been possessed, waking up and reaching for the cell. She’d dialed out before she even knew what was happening. Lane felt like she’d been dreaming about Henry after she’d finally fallen asleep.
She had vaguely heard the Civic start and pull out of the front when Julia left for her work, shortly after they had returned back home, and then there had been fitful dreams about the Council and the ceremony.
It wasn’t until Henry said her name that the hazy, trance-like sensation which had overcome her seemed to disappear, and she was brought back to the reality that she had already broken the rules to call him.
Lane stared at the cell, half expecting it to ring again, but she realized that wouldn’t happen. Henry wouldn’t disrespect the laws of the Council as she had.
Will he tell what I’ve done? she asked herself. For all she knew, he didn’t need to. The Council might have other ways of knowing what she had done.
Not for the first time, Lane was reminded how little she knew about technology. Julia had kept her out of touch with anything in the world. Lane had been permitted to read, but only classics, and they had a small T.V., but no cable. She had no idea how cell phones worked.
Mom is going to kill me if she finds out about any of this.
Lane saw that she still had goosebumps on her arms from when she’d heard Henry’s voice, and she wondered if that was normal or if her nerves had just gotten the best of her.
What was Henry going to do? She hoped nothing. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned a very awkward encounter the next time she and Henry saw one another at the full moon Council meeting, but nothing more.
Why am I so disappointed? It’s not like we could date or anything.
Lane was humiliated for thinking anything so silly. Why would a guy like Henry Brandis want to have anything to do with her? He was obviously worldly and exciting. She was a twenty-five-year-old spinster hermit who knew nothing about anything. She needed to stop thinking about Henry and find something else to occupy her time.
She padded out of her bedroom, leaving the phone on the bed. She couldn’t help but cast it one las
t look before heading into the bathroom for a shower. What if Henry called in the meantime?
Lane loathed the way her mind was betraying her, though she also knew it had nothing to do with her mind at all and everything to do with her heart, wanting him in the worst way.
She vaguely remembered being in school, although Julia had insisted she attend kindergarten for a few months before everything. She wondered if she would have had crushes on boys if she’d remained in school. If she had, would they have felt like this?
It was a dumb game to play—she had nothing to compare her sentiments to.
Mom saw to that. She continues to see that I have no normal social interaction.
The combination of bitterness and sadness enveloped Lane again, but she forced her mind away from the melancholy which threatened to consume her. There was nothing she could do to change her situation. Her mother knew best, didn’t she? Julia wouldn’t just lock away her only child if there wasn’t a good reason.
If that’s true, then why do I have so much anger toward her?
She stepped into the near-steaming shower and soaped herself with a lavender and vanilla concoction she had made herself. It was supposed to diminish anxiety, but Julia didn’t know that was the reason Lane had made the soap in that particular scent.
Not that it works, anyway, she thought. I’m going to need something stronger than fragrance to overcome my anxiety.
As she washed her shoulder-length red waves, the water cascading down her slender but shapely body, Lane wondered what it would take for her mother to let her go, if only to get a part-time job. Julia had promised, long ago, that once the Council was destroyed, Lane would be permitted to wander free.
“Then you can get a job if you want, although gods only know why you want to,” Julia sighed. She worked as an emergency room nurse and seemed to hate her job.
“Mom, what will I do… you know… after?”
“After I’m dead, you mean?” Julia snorted. “Why do you think I work so much? I’m ensuring there’s enough to see you through long after I’m gone, but I’m hoping to marry you off to a wealthy Alpha.”
“What?” Lane choked. “You can’t be serious! Mom, this isn’t the nineteenth century!”
Julia shrugged. “It’s either that, or you’ll have to use your powers to get money some other way. You can do that, you know.”
Lane’s mouth nearly hit the floor at her mother’s suggestion. “I can’t do that! There are laws! I’ll be locked up!”
Julia’s face twisted into a look of anger. “Well, you have no marketable skills, Lane. You have no college education. I mean, what do the Enchanted expect you to do when they make us hide our kids away? Of course you’ll have to use your abilities to survive any way you can. It’s not like you have the benefit of immortality. You will die if you don’t eat.”
And that’s Mom’s plan for my future, Lane recalled. Marry me off like some Regency virgin or turn me into a criminal. It’s like she doesn’t know me at all!
The heat of the water was becoming unbearable, and Lane leaned forward to turn off the water. She stepped out and wrapped her lithe body in a worn towel, wiping her hand over the foggy mirror to stare at her face. She wondered how Henry Brandis felt about marriage.
Instantly, her pale face stained nearly purple with embarrassment, and she hurried out of the bathroom to dress, water dripping on the floor from her soaked tresses.
No sooner had she slipped on her bra and panties than she heard a knock at the door. Lane froze in shock. No one ever came to the cottage—ever.
She moved toward the window and peered into the yard, where she saw a sleek, black car parked. There was only the back of a man facing her, but she knew who it was. She’d been dreaming about that tall, dark profile all day, after all.
“Oh, no,” Lane mumbled, her eyes tearing around the room for something to wear. She considered ignoring him, but she knew he knew she was there. She’d told him as much.
“Lane? I know you’re there.”
And he can read my thoughts, she remembered.
“And I can read your thoughts.”
Lane willed herself not to think while she wriggled into a simple sundress and bolted out toward the front door.
“How did you find me?” she asked when she opened the door. A now-familiar sense of warmth flooded her when Henry’s crystalline eyes met hers.
“You really don’t know a lot about technology, do you?”
She shook her head sheepishly. “Not really.”
“Can I come in?”
Lane chomped on her lower lip, biting back the impulse to refuse, but Henry had probably gone through a great deal of trouble to find her.
“Sure,” she managed to say and stepped back to let him inside. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”
It was so strange saying those words to him, so foreign to have a stranger in the cottage. Under any other circumstances, it would have filled her with a sense of panic. Henry, though, wasn’t a stranger, not really.
“No,” Henry replied slowly. “I’m taking you out for breakfast, remember?”
“Oh, no,” Lane laughed nervously. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest. “No, that’s not a good idea. I shouldn’t leave.”
Henry closed the door, which she still held fast to, and cocked his head to the side. “Do you have to go to work?”
“I don’t work.”
“Oh. School?”
She shook her head again and lowered her eyes. “No. I was homeschooled by my mom, but that stopped a few years ago, after I got my high school diploma.”
Henry seemed at a loss for words.
“Lane,” he said after a while, “do you stay here all the time? With your mother?”
Defensiveness shot through her. “So what if I do?”
He leaned forward and tipped her chin upward to look into his eyes. “So nothing. I’m just trying to understand you a bit better.”
Confusion swept through Lane. There was no judgement in his eyes, no look of admonishment.
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you want to know me?”
His characteristic half-smile formed on his lips. “You don’t think you’re interesting?”
Lane scoffed.
“No,” she answered truthfully. “Not in the least.”
Henry shrugged.
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Are you ready to go for breakfast?” The doubts hit Lane again, and she started to refuse, but Henry shook his head before she could. “You already told me that you don’t have plans. What else are you going to do today?”
I can’t go with him, Lane thought. Mom will kill me if she finds out about this!
“I’ll have you back before Julia knows you’re gone, all right?”
He can read your mind! She raised her eyes to him again, and his smile widened.
“Is it a deal?”
Lane nodded slowly. “Yes…”
“Great!” Henry turned toward the door, but before his hand touched the knob, Lane threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.
The action caught him completely off guard, and Henry fell back, his pupils dilating in shock.
“Oh, my goodness!” Lane gasped, pulling herself back, her head swimming. “I don’t know what— Oh, my goodness!”
Henry laughed boomingly and seized her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her again, softer this time. When their mouths parted, he brushed a still-wet strand of hair out of her face.
“I have so much to teach you,” he murmured, leaning his mouth against her forehead. “I can’t wait.”
Lane steeled her mind not to think, lest Henry read her thoughts again. If she’d given herself permission, she would have told herself to run away quickly, to leave Henry before it was too late and her mother ruined everything.
Instead, she followed him from the house without so much as a backward glance, as if disobeying her mother and leaving on breakfast dates was commonplace for her.
7
Henry’s phone rang nonstop through breakfast, but he ignored it, his attention fully on the creature before him. He’d never met someone so untouched by the world. Everything was brand-new to Lane, and he was both intrigued by her and disgusted with Julia for making her that way.
“I don’t understand,” Henry said as he watched her devour a stack of blueberry pancakes. “Your mom just didn’t let you go anywhere?”
Lane paused, her mouth slowing as she chewed. He knew it was intrusive to read her thoughts but there was so much going on in her head, it was almost impossible to stay out of her mind.
“It was for my own safety,” she mumbled, darting her gaze back to her breakfast. She dropped the fork quietly onto the plate and sat back.
“How?” Henry demanded. “How could that be for your own safety?”
Lane’s face puckered into a frown, and Henry tensed when he realized what Julia had told her.
“The Council would never have ordered the execution of a child!” he breathed in disbelief, leaning forward so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Yes, we scare the parents into monitoring their kids, but we’ve never ordered a child to death.”
Lane’s eyes enlarged.
“Never?” she demanded. “Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding? The kids would never reach maturity if we punished them for such a thing,” Henry insisted, and he watched as relief and sadness flooded her face.
“She really thought I was in danger,” Lane muttered, her pale face growing waxen. “She wouldn’t have hid me otherwise.”
“I don’t know about that, Lane,” Henry replied, ire surging through him. “You haven’t been a child in many years. What excuse did she have after you were at an age where you could understand?”
Lane’s shoulders stiffened. “You don’t know my mother. She worries. All mothers worry.”
“All mothers worry, of course,” Henry conceded. “But not all mothers keep their adult children from making friends, from going to school, or from having a job. Even if I believe that she was worried for your safety and did her best to keep you alive, she still kept you from living.”
