High Stakes Trial

by Mindy Klasky

  “So you followed him here…”

  “It took an hour for us to mobilize. Almost too long, in retrospect. You know sphinxes. Not one of them was going to speed to get here.”

  “And they all had to find legal parking spaces after they arrived.”

  We both grinned. For just a moment I wondered how James’s Prius had fared during the night, whether it was ticketed or towed. I should have known I was something other than sphinx when I’d left the car to its fate.

  Chris’s mood shifted. The skin tightened beside his eyes. He shot a glance over his shoulder at James, who looked like he was contemplating throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me out of the cathedral, whether I was willing to go or not.

  Chris’s brain understood this conversation, even if his heart was slow in catching up.

  Reaching forward with my right fist, I revealed the Seal on my open palm.

  “What’s that?”

  “Sekhmet’s Seal.”

  “How did you know—”

  I cut him off. We really didn’t have enough time for all of that. “Apep told me. He’s imperial. He’s Sheut.”

  He made the connections faster than I’d thought he would. “And Sekhmet’s Seal was in that window?”

  I nodded and then I folded my fingers over the charm. “I’ll use it. I’ll follow Sekhmet’s command to save her children.”

  “The New Commission—”

  “No.” I cut him off, because nothing he could say would make me agree again to his proposal. I’d known it was wrong when I’d accepted it the first time.

  “Sphinxes have to—” He tried.

  “Sphinxes had too,” I interrupted. “You were the elders, charged with protecting our younger siblings. But that was millennia ago. After all these generations, vampires and sphinxes are equal.”

  He wanted to trust me. He wanted to believe. But he was the Sun Lion. He’d run the sphinxes’ archive since he was fourteen years old. He’d spent a lifetime solving equations with the reliable, steady rules of mathematics. I was about to shove him into the ungoverned wilds of quantum mechanics.

  “Besides,” I said. “You built your argument on a single false assumption. For all these years, you’ve believed that sphinxes were the first born. But Sekhmet had another child. Someone who was actually first.”

  I gestured with my clenched fist, taking in the full absurdity of my standing in his white shirt, my bare legs, my bare feet.

  His throat worked. He couldn’t deny what he’d seen in the cathedral. He couldn’t ignore that I was Other.

  “I only wanted to help,” he said.

  I believed him. “You will. You’ll help me. And the Den will help me. And we’ll get together a group of vampires as well. We’ll build a new solution, and we’ll base it on equality. On justice for sphinxes and for vampires alike.”

  He wanted to argue. I saw it in his eyes and in the determined set of his mouth. But he wasn’t a foolish man. He knew I was right. I was offering him order and logic and structure and peace.

  Finally, he nodded. “All right,” he said.

  That was the instant I knew for sure. It seemed like years had passed since Chris first said he loved me. He’d loved me when he’d shifted me into my first battle, awakening agriotis and my ancient memories of Sekhmet. He’d loved me when he’d tested me for membership in the Den. He’d loved me when he’d cast me out, and when I’d stolen the amulet, and when he’d come to the cathedral, willing to fight Maurice Richardson to the death.

  And I loved him too, for all of that and more.

  But it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Held it for five. Exhaled. And when he looked at me again, I knew he’d forged some fragile shell of acceptance.

  I wanted to kiss him, to tell him goodbye. I thought about brushing my lips against his cheek. But I didn’t want to hurt him, not ever again.

  I raised the Seal between us, letting it be the pledge he needed. “Soon,” I said. “We’ll get to work soon.”

  He nodded once, and then he strode to the nearest of his sphinxes and started issuing orders.

  Before he could get a word out, though, the cathedral doors crashed open. Two dozen imperials flooded the nave, each one dressed in the crisp blue uniform of the Empire Bureau of Investigation.

  38

  James’s fingers clamped on my wrist. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “I don’t think they’re going to let us just walk out of here.”

  “They will if they don’t get a chance to ask questions.”

  He pulled me down a narrow aisle between a pair of pews. A vampire body lay in a heap in the middle of the row. He nudged the corpse with his toe, as if checking to see if it was really dead.

  The body rolled over. It was the strung-out foot soldier from the lair’s front porch, the vampire who’d invaded the Old Library and Enfolded Angelique. His mouth was stretched in a rictus of agony. His arms were curled in front of his chest. A length of silver chain was wrapped around his wrists. His flesh had blistered and blackened before he died.

  “Take that,” James said, kicking at the end of the chain.

  “What?” I didn’t want anything to do with the creature who’d once strangled me.

  “Loop the chains around your hands. I can’t do it. Now.”

  I pulled the links free. The man’s body was lighter than I expected it to be. I wrapped the chain around my wrists.

  “Tighter,” James said. “Tuck in the end.”

  Awkwardly, I followed his orders. He frowned, but he didn’t risk self-immolation to correct me. Instead he closed his fingers over my elbow and marched me toward the front of the building.

  I thought he’d try for one of the side doors, maybe double back to the transept. Instead, he headed directly for the main entrance. I realized why when I saw a single kitsune guard manning the egress. The fox spirit looked like she was ten years old.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the fox spirit said. She sounded like she was ten years old too.

  James had us half-way out the door before he stopped. “Me?” he asked, with the privileged belligerence of a man called to heel on his own territory.

  “No one’s supposed to leave or enter the premises, sir. We have to account for every one of the casualties.”

  “Do either of us look like a sphinx?”

  With his dangerous stubble and his rumpled black clothes, no one was likely to confuse him with a member of the Den. Me either, for that matter, with my bare feet and a shirt that hardly reached the middle of my thighs.

  “Well no, sir. But I’m under strict orders—”

  “I’m under orders, too.” With his free hand, James slapped at his pockets, as if he were trying to produce a pen and a notebook. “What’s your name, officer? Who should I report is obstructing my investigation?”

  “I’m not obstructing, sir!”

  “Excellent,” James said, looming close enough to make the poor kitsune take a step back. “I’ll add insubordination to my report as well.”

  She squirmed, clearly unhappy with her options.

  “Does it look like I’m going very far with an imperial dressed like this?” James demanded, nodding curtly toward me. “The Bureau’s job is to hide the Empire from mundanes, not to advertise it.”

  “You’re from the Bureau, sir?”

  “Who the hell else would I be? Do you see a living vampire on the floor in there?”

  The kitsune crumpled under the pressure. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize, sir. This is my first time at an actual crime scene, sir.”

  She was still making her excuses when James pulled me past the ticket booth and into the cool night air. I stared up at the dark sky. How many hours had passed since Sheut had transformed me?

  I staggered, losing my footing with my head thrown back. James steadied me by pressing his palm to the small of my back.

  “Easy,” he growled. “I’m having a hard enough t
ime keeping my own feet.”

  “You are hurt.” I reached toward his side, where I’d seen Ronald’s blade slash.

  He hissed, and pulled away. “That Bureau flunky is going to realize her mistake any second. We should be far away from here when she calls in reinforcements.”

  It was faster not to argue. I wriggled free of the silver chain and dropped it behind a nearby bush, taking care that the metal didn’t glint in the moonlight. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a phone on you?” I asked, figuring Uber was our fastest way to flee.

  “Never bring a knife to a gun fight,” he said. “Or a phone to a highly illegal criminal pursuit.”

  “And I’m pretty sure a wallet’s right out.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “Well, I’m not carrying either.” I gestured at my scanty attire. “I had the car key in my pocket, before my clothes were destroyed. I suppose that means it’s somewhere on the floor in there.” I nodded toward the cathedral.

  “Which car key?” he asked.

  I blushed. Given my current state of semi-undress, I probably had better reasons to be embarrassed, but I was oddly reluctant to admit I’d been joy-riding around town at his expense. “The Prius.”

  “My Prius?”

  I nodded. “I drove it up here. It’s parked around the corner.”

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “But—”

  A chatter of voices spilled out from the cathedral entrance. There was no mistaking the kitsune’s little-girl whine. James grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the main road.

  I was limping before we cleared the cathedral grounds. Each step I took in my bare feet found another sharp-edged stone. James threw his arm around my waist, but I felt his body spasm the instant I leaned against him.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, hobbling forward another couple of steps.

  “Bad enough,” he said.

  That meant a mundane would be gibbering in agony. I squirmed beneath his grip until he rested his arm around my shoulders. The fact that he gave in lit a spark of terror beneath my heart.

  Pulling each other forward, we speed-walked down the sidewalk. A car whizzed by, honking in an apparent salute to my bare legs. I barely resisted the urge to signal my appreciation with my middle finger.

  We turned onto the side street where I’d left the car. I was thinking furiously, trying to remember if it was even possible to hot-wire a hybrid. James was grunting a little with each step, leaning more and more heavily on my shoulders.

  By the time we reached the Prius, I could feel blood soaking through my shirt. James ignored my increasingly frantic solicitude, though, shrugging free from my support as we arrived at the vehicle. He tried to kneel by the rear door on the driver’s side.

  “You can’t—” I said.

  He planted his palm on the side of the car. I was terrified he’d leave a bloody handprint. “So you get it,” he hissed, nodding toward the wheel well.

  I crouched down, following his labored instructions. Up further. To the right. Back more.

  My fingers finally closed over a lump of metal. I twisted sharply and a magnetic box came away in my hand. At James’s jutted chin, I slid the container open and removed a key.

  “Not very safe, Mr. Director of Security.”

  “So sue me. I’m a vampire who lives alone, without anyone to call if I lock my keys in the car.”

  “It’s a Prius with an electronic key fob. Is it even possible to lock your keys in your car?”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  I laughed and let us into the car.

  James was in no shape to drive. He was alert enough to hiss, though, as I ran three consecutive yellow lights. And he wasn’t at all satisfied with my parallel parking, even after I accepted his demand to block the fire hydrant in front of my house.

  I had to dig my extra front door key out of the planter on the top step.

  “Not very safe, Ms. Clerk of Court.”

  I snorted. “That’s Ms. Former Clerk of Court, to you.”

  He didn’t get a chance to retort. He was concentrating too hard at making his way down the stairs to my front door. I had to help him over the threshold and down the hall to my bedroom.

  “Wait!” I said, before he could collapse on the bed. “I don’t want blood all over my comforter.”

  He grimaced, but he supported himself on the doorframe while I grabbed a stack of towels from the bathroom. Once the linens were protected, he collapsed onto the bed with a wince.

  “Let’s see,” I said, tugging at his shirt.

  He shoved away my hand.

  “Don’t be a baby!”

  My heart lurched as he sank back on my pillows. He should have fought me more than that.

  I thought I was prepared. I’d watched Ronald deliver the blow. I’d gauged James’s failing strength as we staggered home. But I hadn’t taken into account his stoic resistance to pain.

  The sword had severed skin and muscle, leaving a gaping, bloody mess. But Ronald had clearly stopped short of reaching anything vital. If James’s bowels had been split or his liver sliced, he never would have made it to my bed.

  The blade had done plenty of damage. But the silver had done even more. The edges of the wound were charred black. The cut muscles were an angry red. White blisters multiplied around the wound.

  “Sweet Sekhmet,” I whispered. “How the hell did you walk to the car?”

  “What else was I going to do?” he asked. “Accept a ride from the EBI?”

  I gathered my hair into a loose ponytail, pulling it to one side of my throat. “Go ahead,” I said, leaning closer.

  He turned his head to the side. “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. You need to drink. You’ll take weeks to heal without fresh blood.”

  His fingers were gentle on my chin as he made me meet his eyes. “Sarah,” he said. “I saw what happened in that church. I saw what you became.”

  Until he said the words, I hadn’t realized I was avoiding a conversation. But now, staring into his unwavering gaze, I forced myself to say the words, because I knew he’d never let me go until I did. “I turned into a dragon.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head just a little. “You are a dragon.”

  He was right, of course. It didn’t matter that I had a human form. I was like a shifter—wolf or cat or bear. Certainly, I was wholly other when I took my alternative form, but that potential lived inside me with every breath I took.

  It wasn’t like agriotis. It wasn’t a choice, or even an instinct. It was something I was, woven into every fiber of my being. And the destruction I’d wrought in the cathedral, the death I’d delivered to Richardson, was part and parcel of who I truly was. I had to accept that I carried within me the power of ultimate ruin. But I could—I had—used that power for good.

  In other words, James was right. But he was also bleeding through my towels onto my bed. “I’m a dragon,” I said. “But I was a dragon the first time you drank from me. My blood didn’t hurt you then.”

  “I’m not worried about me!” he said, exasperation sharpening his tone. “You transformed today, for the very first time. And you killed Richardson. You have every right to be too exhausted for me to feed.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “Then I have every right to decide what I’ll offer. And to whom.”

  I leaned close again. I knew he could smell my blood, and he had to hear my heart pounding.

  His lips were cold on my throat. His chilled tongue made me shiver as he traced the scar from the night he’d cornered in his foyer. I pressed closer to his too-still body.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  I felt his fangs express, hard against my flesh. He angled his head and made one short thrust. I tried to keep from jerking.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, but then his mouth was pressed against my skin. He worked the wound with his frozen lips, swallowing once before he pulled away.

  “James,” I warned. He needed mo
re if he was ever going to heal himself.

  “That’s enough.”

  “The hell it is.”

  He refused to meet my eyes. “That’s all I deserve.”

  “What the—”

  “I went to Maurice Richardson,” he said, his voice like shards of stone. “I purposely joined forces with the worst criminal in the Eastern Empire. I didn’t care if I died. I just thought I could bring Richardson down too. In Robert’s honor…”

  His voice trailed off, and I fought a flutter of panic. A healthy James would never make such a maudlin confession. He was too far gone to manage what he was saying.

  “You weren’t yourself,” I said gently. He needed to drink. Now.

  “I wasn’t strong enough. I did bad things, Sarah.”

  “You—”

  He barely had enough strength to cut me off. “I had to make him believe he had me. Believe I was lost.”

  I spread my hand across his chest. “But you drew a line. That girl, the one he wanted to bring into the house.”

  He didn’t have the energy to pull away. “Too little…” His eyes drifted closed. “Too late…”

  I didn’t know what to do with this James, how to handle this man who thought he didn’t deserve to live. I was losing him—to silver and blood loss and regret.

  I raised my hand to my throat, to the tiny trickle of blood that flowed from his incision. Swiping my neck clean, I brought my wet index finger to his mouth. His lips felt like ice when I smeared them with my blood.

  For a moment, I thought he was too far gone. He’d fainted, or slipped into a coma, or worse. He was a vampire; he didn’t have a pulse for me to find. I could never watch the rise and fall of his chest.

  But then the tip of his tongue ventured over his lips. He swallowed the little nourishment he found.

  I wiped more blood from my neck, bringing my fingers close enough for him to suckle. He tried to turn away, but I insisted, collecting twice more before I dared sit back.

  James turned his face away. “I needed help,” he whispered. “That day… At the rowhouse…”

  Annoyed that he’d rather talk than heal himself, I leaned over his body. I purposely cocked my head, making sure my fresh blood was directly in front of his mouth. No vampire could resist his instinct to drink—not when he was exhausted and wounded and morally defeated.