Unleashed by the Defender: A Kindred Tales Novel

by Anderson, Evangeline

  “Geeze,” Imani muttered to herself. “Who decorated in here—a deranged billionaire?”

  But she had no time to waste looking at her surroundings—she only had a week to prepare for this hearing and a man’s life hung in the balance.

  Drawing the drapes again so she wouldn’t be distracted by the sights of the city, she settled down in a comfortable chair which molded itself to the contours of her body and opened the packet.

  Inside were some legal documents—a lot of legal documents, actually, it was a good thing she had a week to get through all of them—as well as a flat tablet about the size of an e-reader. Imani flipped it on and was immediately greeted by the sight of yet another pink praying mantis.

  “Good day, Counzzilor Williamzz,” the mantis said. “I am the court-appointed liaison to bring you up to zzpeed on the cazze of the City of Opulex vs the Nightwalker Kindered, J’are Tanlor. In order that you will be ready to plead on the court date of—”

  The mantis mentioned a date which made Imani jump.

  “What?” she muttered. “But that’s today!” She looked at her watch, which she had set to Yonnie Six time the minute the Kindred shuttle had dropped her off in front of the Luxx. In fact, the court date was less that two hours from now and she didn’t even know her way to the courtroom! She hadn’t even had time to study the evidence! What was she going to do?

  Quickly she gathered her materials together, including the small drive which she hadn’t yet had time to watch. Whatever evidence was on it, she would have to wait and see it at the Opulex courtroom.

  But getting to the legal building where the courtroom was located turned out to be an almost overwhelming task in and of itself. The first three ride services the hotel called for her claimed they didn’t take the cred chip she’d been given to pay all her expenses with.

  The fourth ride service agreed to take her, but then the driver insisted on taking her on a tour of the city instead of driving her directly to the legal building.

  “I’m telling you,” Imani snapped for the fourth time, “I don’t want to see any more landmarks. I’m due in court in…” She consulted her watch and grimaced. “In less than an hour. So stop talking and take me there now!”

  “At onzze, Mistrezz. At onzze,” the driver—yet another of the pink mantises (Imani was really beginning to loathe the huge insects)—finally agreed to her demands. It stopped its vehicle on the side of an extremely busy road and gestured with one of its long, chitinous arms. “There it izz,” it buzzed. “The legal building.”

  Imani frowned. The mantis driver was pointing at a tall, black building across the street.

  “Well then, take me there,” she exclaimed. “Hurry and get us over to the other side.”

  “I am afraid thizz izz azz far as I can take you,” the driver said.

  “What?” Imani glared at it. “But there are six lanes of traffic going one way and six going in the other,” she exclaimed, gesturing at the busy road. “How do you expect me to cross that?”

  “There izz a pedestrian crozz walk zzeveral blockzz down,” the mantis informed her. “Good luck on your legalitiezz.”

  “But…but you can’t just expect me to walk! I’m going to be late for court!” Imani protested. In her entire legal career she had never been late—not once. And she didn’t intend to start now when a man’s life was hanging in the balance.

  But instead of answering, the mantis driver simply activated the door mechanism. The back door of its luxurious vehicle swung open and then Imani found that her seat was tilting.

  “Hey…hey!” she gasped as she found herself spilling out onto the sidewalk. She landed with a thump and all her documents and files wound up in a pile on the ground beside her.

  The seat tilted back into place and the door shut with a final sounding thunk. Then the vehicle sped off in a burst of wind which scattered her documents everywhere.

  “Oh, no!” Imani gasped, throwing her arms over the papers that were left. There were considerably fewer of them than she had started with—most of them were currently being flattened by the fast moving vehicles in the street beside her, which sped by so quickly she barely caught a blur of color before they were gone again.

  Since there was no way to gather the lost documents without being flattened by an alien vehicle going two hundred miles an hour, Imani pulled together the much smaller pile of paperwork and clutched it to her chest.

  Well, at least she still had the drive the Kindred operative had given her. Unfortunately, she had no way to look at its contents since the tablet had also been lost, along with most of her paperwork. She could see it, not five feet away from her, already flattened on the road by hundreds of whizzing wheels.

  She was going into this case blind and with no way to look at the evidence which might exonerate her client.

  The thought hit her like a hammer but Imani wasn’t one to give up easily. Grimly, she gathered what she could. Far up ahead she could see a raised crosswalk, arching high over the busy road. She would have to use it to get to the other side and then walk all the way back down to the legal building.

  Imani just hoped she could make it in time. With another glance at her watch, she started off at a brisk pace. It was beginning to seem like someone didn’t want her to make this court date but she’d be damned if anything was going to stop her!

  Five

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you go in.” The female attendant at the door—who was dressed more like a sex worker than a bailiff as far as Imani could see—sneered at her.

  “What? But I made it—I’m on time. I’m even five minutes early,” Imani protested. She didn’t need this right now—it had taken almost forty minutes of walking to finally get to the legal building and find the right courtroom. She was exhausted and her feet were aching. “I’m the councilor for the defendant—I have to get in there!” she exclaimed.

  Even though she had no idea what she was going to say or do once she got inside, she thought unhappily.

  “I’m sorry,” the attendant snapped. “But you can’t go into Judge Thoughtgood’s courtroom dressed like that.” She nodded in derision at Imani’s conservative button-down blouse and pencil skirt. “I mean, you look like a peasant. The judge will never consider your motions if you cover yourself so completely.”

  “My clothes? You’re keeping me out of the courtroom because of my clothes? Because they cover too much?” Imani demanded. She had served with conservative judges back on Earth who demanded that people dress up for their court and not wear jeans or flip-flops or tank-tops, but she had never been told she wasn’t showing enough skin to get into court.

  “It’s disrespectful to the court to dress in such a dowdy fashion,” the attendant informed her icily. “I can’t let you in unless you do something about your appearance.”

  For a moment, Imani was at a loss. The case was going to start in less than five minutes—what was she going to do? Then she saw a woman walking by wearing a bikini top studded in diamonds and she had an idea.

  Quickly, she began stripping off her outer clothing, right there in front of the courtroom door. Off came the white silk button-down blouse and down came the black pencil skirt. Soon Imani was wearing only her bra and panties—thankfully, a nice white lace set which looked lovely against her chocolate-brown skin.

  She tied the arms of the blouse around her waist, making a kind of abbreviated skirt, which was open in the middle and still showed her panties. Finally, she took her long black braids down from their tight bun and let them swing free around her shoulders.

  She looked up at the attendant who had been watching the whole process with a bemused look on her face.

  “Well?” she demanded. “Am I decent now? Can I go into court?”

  “Yes…” The woman nodded, a look of grudging respect on her formerly sneering face. “Yes, I think you’ll do—barely. You can go in.”

  Imani didn’t thank her. She just grabbed her crumpled skirt, her remaining papers and the
tiny drive the Kindred operative had given her and finally entered the courtroom.

  Six

  “All rise for the honorable Judge Thoughtgood,” another female attendant dressed like a stripper was announcing just as Imani slid into her seat at the front of the courtroom. She looked around as she stood, but didn’t see her client anywhere. Had they not brought him out yet? Where was he?

  She couldn’t ask anyone because just at that moment, a female judge with bright blue hair entered the courtroom. The hair in question was done into an elaborate, massive up-do that towered three feet above her head and was decorated with all manner of jewels and sequins and flowers.

  Her outfit was equally splendid—a pale blue, diaphanous silk gown which was completely see-through and encrusted with tiny diamond and golden flowers. Beneath the gown it was apparent that she had pierced nipples with large diamond drops hanging from each taut peak.

  Wow, Imani thought. She had never dreamed she’d see a judge dressed in such a fashion, but then, this was Yonnie Six, she reminded herself, where apparently anything was possible.

  There was no jury, she saw, dragging her eyes from the judge, but there were three people sitting opposite her on the prosecution’s side of the courtroom. One was a woman with bright lemon-yellow hair, done up in a series of elaborate ringlets that framed her face and made her look older than she probably was. She was wearing a pink gown with the top cut down to her navel. The other was a professional looking woman with short, electric-green hair and an abbreviated bikini-type top and bottom, not unlike Imani’s new look.

  She must be the lawyer for the Prosecution, Imani thought and was glad her new “outfit” wasn’t that different.

  The third person sitting on the prosecution’s side—if it could be called a person—was yet another one of those damn pink praying mantises. What the hell was going on with those things? Imani wondered. Nobody at the Mother Ship had warned her about them and they seemed to be everywhere she went. Were they indigenous to Yonnie Six? If so, why had no one told her about them?

  “All right, you may be seated,” Judge Thoughtgood said, as she settled herself behind the high podium at the front of the room. “Bailiff?”

  “This is the case of the City of Opulex vs the Nightwalker Kindred bodyslave, J’are Tanlor, who is accused of murdering his Mistress, Lady Zangelo,” the bailiff announced in a bored-sounding voice. “The honorable Judge Thoughtgood presiding.”

  “Thank you, Bailiff.” The judge nodded, her mountain of bright blue hair quivering with the gesture. “Now, I understand we have a Defender from the Kindred people here to represent the murderer—is that right?”

  “Here, your honor.” Imani raised her hand. “But I must object to your honor’s calling my client a murderer when the case has yet to be decided. It is our position that J’are Tanlor never murdered anyone.”

  “He most certainly did murder her!” the woman with the lemon-yellow hair exclaimed. “My good friend, Tanta Zangelo, would still be alive if it weren’t for that horrible Kindred!” She began to sob noisily while the green-haired lawyer tried to comfort her.

  “Well, that has yet to be adjudged, as the Kindred Defender has pointed out,” Judge Thoughtgood said dryly, apparently not impressed with the other woman’s waterworks. “Who would like to speak first—the Defense or the Prosecution?”

  “The Prosecution can speak first, your honor,” Imani said quickly. She still hadn’t had a chance to go over the details of the case—hopefully the Prosecution would at least give her the highlights and let her know what she was working with.

  “Very well.” The judge nodded, her hair-tower quivering again. Looking at the green-haired lawyer she said, “Prosecutor, please proceed.”

  “Very well, your honor.” The lawyer rose. “First a bit of background—it is our belief that J’are, the Nightwalker Kindred bodyslave, was not always the stone-cold killer he is today. He was raised from childhood by the kind but eccentric Lady Hownow, who told all her friends that she had always wanted male progeny—that is, a ‘son.’”

  This drew a frown from the judge and Imani was reminded that the Yonnie elite took care that they would only have daughters. Apparently they went to conception centers to get pregnant where the sperm was sorted so that only female embryos resulted. But Judge Thoughtgood only made a gesture with one hand and said,

  “Go on.”

  “After Lady Hownow’s death—of natural causes—it was a condition of her will that the Kindred be set free and that he inherit her assets. Essentially, she wanted him to be her heir.”

  “A male heir? That’s unheard of!” the judge said, frowning.

  “Exactly, your honor. My aunt was senile at the time she wrote that will,” the lemon-haired woman said quickly, before the Prosecutor could speak. “Why, no one in their right mind would simply set such a valuable slave free and leave all her possessions to him!”

  Judge Thoughtgood raised one bright blue eyebrow.

  “So you contested her will?”

  “I did.” The woman nodded. “As her niece and closest living relative, all of her other possessions went to me—I felt that the Kindred bodyslave should also be mine.”

  “I see.” The judge nodded impassively. “But you apparently did not keep him?”

  “He was completely unmanageable!” The lemon-haired woman fluttered her hands expressively. “He wouldn’t walk on a leash, he snapped and snarled at me anytime I came near him. And then I found out that my aunt, Lady Hownow, had never even put a pain collar on him before!”

  Both the judge’s eyebrows rose this time.

  “Never?”

  “Never.” Lady Hownow’s niece shook her head. “It turned out that she had raised him as her child and treated him the way any of us would treat a natural-born daughter.”

  “Eccentric indeed,” the judge murmured.

  Why, because she didn’t treat him like a slave? Like an inferior or an animal just because he wasn’t one of you? Imani wanted to shout.

  Her temper had been rising as she listened to the testimony but she knew that she had to hold her tongue. Sounding off in the middle of court wouldn’t do her client any good. And speaking of that, where was her client anyway? The case had started and he still wasn’t here!

  “Anyway,” the lemon-haired woman continued. “I was going to have him put down but then I decided to auction him off instead—at a troubled bodyslave auction. He was a prime specimen and I hated to waste him. I thought maybe someone else might have better luck training him than I had.”

  Just like he was a valuable but vicious animal, Imani thought angrily. That’s how they see males here, I guess.

  “So you auctioned him off and I take it the victim, Lady Zangelo, bought him?” Judge Thoughtgood asked.

  “That is exactly what happened, your honor,” the green-haired attorney said. “Even though Lady Bittlebum, here, specifically posted a warning about the Kindred bodyslave.”

  “Yes—I tried to warn her!” the lemon-haired woman who was apparently Lady Bittlebum exclaimed. “But Tanta just wouldn’t listen. She always had to have the biggest, baddest, most intractable bodyslaves and she swore she could tame this one. Oh, how I wish she had listened to me!” And she broke down into noisy sobs once more.

  The green-haired Prosecutor patted her shaking shoulders absently as she continued talking to the judge.

  “Six solar months ago, after acquiring and failing to tame the Nightwalker Kindred bodyslave, J’are Tanlor, Tanta Zangelo was killed in her bed on the Lunar month of Tebrulary the thirty-third at midnight. Specifically, she had her head ripped off and partially eaten,” she said blandly.

  “What?” Imani exclaimed before she could stop herself.

  The judge glared at her.

  “Councilor, do you have something to add?”

  Imani attempted to recover from the shocking statement.

  “I…I’m sorry, your honor,” she said. “I just don’t believe my client could be capable
of such savagery.”

  Up shot the bright blue eyebrow again.

  “Councilor, have you seen your client?” Judge Thoughtgood demanded.

  “Well…no.” Imani cleared her throat. “Actually, I haven’t had a chance to visit with him yet because someone changed the trial date to today instead of a week from now.”

  The green-haired Prosecutor spoke up.

  “That request was placed by the Prosecution because your client has since killed five more people—all fellow inmates—while being held in our correctional facility here in Opulex,” she said. “We were hoping to move up his execution date before he killed anyone else.”

  “What?” Imani exclaimed again.

  “Oh, so you didn’t know that either? Do try to keep up, Councilor,” Judge Thoughtgood said, frowning.

  “So now I need to defend him on six murder charges, not just one?” Imani asked. “I’m just trying to clarify, your honor.”

  “Oh, no.” The judge shook her head, her towering hair quivering with the motion. “As the Council for the Prosecution said, your client’s other victims were fellow inmates—other males. We don’t consider their deaths worth prosecuting. But your client must still die for the vile murder of Lady Tanta Zangelo.”

  “But your honor, the Prosecution hasn’t yet proved that he did, in fact, commit the murder!” Imani protested. “All they have said was that the victim’s head was ripped off and, er, eaten. What proof do they have that my client is to blame?”

  “Only the fact that he was the only other person in the house with her that night—since she’d given her other servants the night off,” the Prosecutor said. “And the fact that her blood was smeared all over your client’s hands, face, and chest when he was found the next day.”

  “Which appears to make him extremely guilty,” Judge Thoughtgood remarked. “And since he’s nothing but a male, I’m inclined to rule in that direction and grant the Prosecution’s request that he should be executed tomorrow morning.”