by Jenn Stark
I felt like ice was running through my veins. How had I not known this? How hadn’t I guessed? “You were harmed?”
“Not irredeemably, no. I had the advantage over most of the inmates and a fair number of the keepers in that I was in full possession of my faculties. I made sure I was a favorite of the superintendent. He was a kind man, and there were far too few of those. Eventually, however, I was treated by a visiting psychiatrist, and, well…” She lifted her chin. “He was not a kind man. And he knew there was something…different about me, as Connecteds often do.”
All the dots didn’t merely connect, they lit up like the Strip. “It was Abigail’s employer. You were the girl she saved.”
“When Abigail visited that night, it wasn’t merely that she was in a trance. She was in a different mind altogether. One of thirteen alternates who would surface as time needed, some less manageable than others.”
“But if you knew this, surely the Magician knew it as well.” I thought back to what he had said, that Abigail wasn’t damaged because of her job, that he’d thought she’d be uniquely suited for it. “She had dissociative identity disorder, and he thought she was perfect for the role of Justice?”
“Before Abigail, the role had gone vacant for seven hundred years,” Mrs. French said simply. “You can do the math.”
I blinked at her. “Armaeus didn’t know anything about what the job took.”
“He didn’t know. And when he did finally learn the truth about Abigail’s condition, she appeared to be thriving. Anything one alter experienced, the others covered over, and of course, there were so many other jobs to manage, ad hoc cases that weren’t as dangerous in the main. But one day, she simply couldn’t face it anymore. And when she went…” Mrs. French shrugged. “By then, I had a purpose and a place. I had the boys to care for and so much shelving to do. The Council fed and clothed us and gave us anything we wanted. It wasn’t a bad life.” She glanced up at me. “But you can take me to Judgment now, Justice Wilde. I do understand.”
“Judgment!” I blinked, but there was no slash of silver at Mrs. French’s temple. All her misery and self-recrimination was internally driven, and always had been, I suspected. “No. That’s not what this is about. I just think the boys need a chance to grow up, is all. Children aren’t meant to stay children.”
“But…” Mrs. French’s eyes filled, and her words, when they came, were barely audible. “They’ll leave.”
I nodded, more gently this time. “They’ll leave, hopefully. Once they get a little older. They’ll leave, and they’ll find friends and maybe eventually make families of their own. Being a gifted Connected doesn’t mean you have to stay alone your whole life, after all. Not everyone out in the world is an asshat.”
She gave me a watery smile. “Most of them are. I’ve had a long time to study this.”
“Most of them are,” I agreed.
“Very well, then,” she said heavily. “You tell me what I need to tell them, what I need to do, and I’ll do it, Justice. And if you don’t want me to stay, I understand. Of course I understand. I couldn’t possibly not understand—”
“You’ll be staying as long as you’d like, Mrs. French. And there’s nothing at all you need to do. At least not about the boys.”
I turned away from her startled face, and moved to the desk. Fully thirteen canisters, unopened, lined the sleek black surface. “Is this everything that’s shown up since I’ve been gone?” I asked, and she gave a rueful chuckle, quickly wiping her tears away.
“Not at all. That’s everything that’s shown up since we cleared away the overnight deliveries. Since you left for Venice, we’ve received one hundred and seventeen cases.”
I jerked my gaze to her, staring. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. Granted, a full fifty-three of those were grudges and family disputes, and another twelve were poppycock, bits of stuff and nothing created to draw you out on false pretenses, but the remaining fifty-two appear to be quite legitimate. They’ve been categorized and prioritized, and except for a few that you might consider addressing immediately, they’ve all been shelved.”
“Fifty…two. And it’s only the legitimate cases that were the problem.”
“For Abigail, yes,” Mrs. French said. “But there’s nothing that says they will affect you the same way. You are two very different people.”
I grimaced. Armaeus had said much the same thing. “How much do you know of the cases she worked on? And is there a list? Maybe if I went back through them, see where maybe she got tripped up…”
Mrs. French straightened. “There most certainly is a list!” she said brightly. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Maybe it’s not a question of any cases being the issues, but the cases she happened to choose.”
“Maybe…” I still remembered the sloshing-brains reaction I’d had to opening Mak’rep’s box. I wasn’t too sure how much I believed my own theory. “Worth a try.”
“Absolutely.” Mrs. French bounded up. “I’ll go ask. I mean…” She paused, looking uncertainly at the closed door. “The boys,” she said. “What shall I say to the boys?”
“It’s already handled,” I assured her.
“But—how?”
“By these,” I said, wiggling my fingers in the air. Mrs. French’s eyes widened.
“You are a very different person from Justice Abigail,” she allowed.
“Well, they’ll simply start growing older now, bit by bit. When they come to you with questions, you can tell them it’s because there’s a new Justice, and that they can stay as long as they like.”
She clenched her hands together in front of her, managing another shaky breath. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
I smiled, shrugged. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to say anything.”
Mrs. French left, and I stared at the desk, unseeing for a long moment. Gradually, with only the slightest wince, I pulled my hands back together. There, in the palm of my right hand, remained the tiny core of power I had most unexpectedly kept from my experience in Venice. The Nul Magis. Not enough to kill a bona fide sorcerer, not enough to destroy their magic. At least I didn’t think so.
But enough to break a spell that had lasted for nearly two hundred years?
That, it seemed, I could do.
And if I could do that…
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I reached for the nearest glass canister to me and opened my next case.
~~~
What’s next for Sara Wilde?
You make the call!
Sara’s newest case will take her around the world—but one of the cities she visits will be chosen by readers! Visit me at https://www.jennstark.com/TheLostQueen to cast your vote on what city should be featured in my newest book. The winning city will be included and one reader will be chosen at random among entrants to appear as a cameo character in an upcoming book! Voting ends Nov. 1, 2018, so visit https://www.jennstark.com/TheLostQueen today.
Want to keep up with all things Sara Wilde? Join my mailing list at https://www.jennstark.com/newsletter for updates, sneak peeks, and more!
A Note From Jenn
Sara’s adventures in The Red King brought her face to face with the King of Cups, who definitely wouldn’t thank me for making him a villain in this tale! In truth, drawing the King of Cups is almost always a very positive experience.
The King of Cups
Court cards are generally about people—the ones you know, the ones you’ll meet, or possibly even yourself—and the King of Cups is someone you definitely want to associate with. Emotionally balanced and truly caring, he sits atop his throne surrounded by the flow of energy, in tune with the world around him. When this card represents a person, look for someone who is jovial, caring, sincere, artistic and creative…with potentially intense feelings, authentic sensitivity and powerful emotions (no matter how balanced he is, this King’s emotions run deep!). When this card does not represent a person, you are most likely in
volved with a spiritual, creative, or artistic project, something that speaks to your deepest emotions. It’s considered a card of abundance, flow and good luck! In fact, in some readings it’s called the god card, signifying that a higher being is blessing your endeavors. So, when you see the Red King, celebrate! Unless he’s a dark practitioner. In that case, you should probably run away.
Acknowledgments
Wow—The Red King launches a whole new series of books for Sara Wilde, with a slightly different spin. Thank you to all my readers who have stayed with me on my journey so far, and to those who are joining me for the first time! I hope you enjoy the ride. As always, my deep and abiding thanks to Elizabeth Bemis for her beautiful work on my books and my site—especially my fantastic cover. My editorial team of Linda Ingmanson and Toni Lee went above and beyond the call of duty with The Red King, as I introduced a mystery into the story that kept us all on our toes. Any mistakes in the manuscript are most definitely my own. I am deeply grateful to Edeena Cross and Sabra Harp for their brilliant beta reads, and to Kristine Krantz, whose careful eye (and skeptical side-eye) kept me on the right track, as always. And, of course, sincere thanks go to Geoffrey, who helped bring this series to life. It’s been a Wilde ride.
About Jenn Stark
Jenn Stark is an award-winning author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. She lives and writes in Ohio. . . and she definitely loves to write. In addition to her Immortal Vegas and Wilde Justice urban fantasy series and Demon Enforcers paranormal romance series, she is also author Jennifer McGowan, whose Maids of Honor series of Young Adult Elizabethan spy romances are published by Simon & Schuster, and author Jennifer Chance, whose Rule Breakers series of New Adult contemporary romances are published by Random House/LoveSwept and whose modern royals series, Gowns & Crowns, is now available.
You can find Jenn online at jennstark.com, follow her on Twitter @jennstark, and visit her on Facebook at facebook.com/authorjennstark.
