Magic Rising Page 9

  When Etoile took the stand next, the questioning was much the same. Georgia attempted to push her into saying I was dangerous. This time, instead of focusing on Evan, Georgia went back and forth recounting the events surrounding Jared’s death. While Etoile carefully navigated her answers, once again, I peeked around Steven and looked across at the defence table. Alison Dorling sat absolutely still, hands in her lap, her face pale, and her eyes puffy. My anger at her bringing the case against me had dissipated, and now all I felt for her was pity. She didn’t deserve this much suffering. Although I hated what was happening, I couldn’t blame Jared’s mother for wanting someone to pay for her son’s death. She just had the wrong witch.

  I wanted to know what Georgia’s motives were, if she were really malicious enough to want to make me pay for her own major indiscretion. That’s when it struck me how public this was. If Georgia really wanted to pay me back for any perceived slight, she could have done it quietly, far away from the city, and possibly no one would have ever known. No, whatever her intention, she wanted to ensure it be known in the most public way possible. She intended to shred my reputation.

  “In your opinion, Ms. Winterstorm, could Stella Mayweather have done anything differently that day?” Georgia continued.

  “No,” replied Etoile.

  “Are you protecting Ms. Mayweather?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you lying under oath to protect your friend?”

  Etoile straightened and looked firmly at Georgia. “No!”

  “Are you lying about the events of that day to avoid the stigma of having a murderer for a friend when you run for Council?”

  A collective gasp ran through the room. I leaned in. Etoile running for Council office? Despite all her criticisms of the Council, she had never once implied that she might be interested in a seat, never mind the leadership. This was big news.

  “No,” said Etoile, skirting the question of her candidacy. “I have told the truth.”

  Georgia cast a sly smile at the judiciary. “No more questions.”

  Steven kept his questions short and to the point, carefully running through the events. Once again, Etoile‘s account matched Seren’s, and I found myself breathing a little easier as the questions began to draw to a close.

  “Ms. Winterstorm, who killed Jared Dorling?”

  Etoile glanced over to his mother, then back to Steven. “Eleanor Bartholomew,” she replied.

  “No more questions.”

  “You may step down, Ms. Winterstorm,” pronounced Lisette. “We have time for one more witness today. Whom do you call to the stand, Ms. Thomas?”

  Georgia stood up and consulted her papers, one blood-red manicured nail running down her list. I thought she knew exactly whom she was going to call, that she was merely putting on a show. “I call Marc Bartholomew,” she said, her clear voice travelling through the room.

  SEVEN

  Marc avoided my eyes as he took the stand. It seemed like everyone was doing that right now. Instead of staring at him, and making him any more uncomfortable than he, no doubt, already was, I looked away. My eyes roamed over the five members of the judiciary, the five people who would determine whether or not I was sentenced to a life under exile. I focused on the one woman who seemed somewhat familiar. Mary something. Try as I might, I couldn’t recall her last name. I remembered meeting her the same night I was presented informally to the Council, the same night I first arrived in the city.

  Now I could put a name to her face, I tried to count my blessings. Seren and Etoile successfully resisted Georgia’s misdirection and spin, and their testimonies were both matching and supportive of me, without being obsequious. If I were sent home, away from all this, I would still have Evan, Annalise and Gage, and my friends in Wilding. Maybe I’d have to find another job, but my classes were going along well, and with more qualifications, it might become a little easier. These rosier thoughts calmed me as I waited for Marc’s testimony.

  Under the table, Etoile gave my hand a quick squeeze, a reassuring gesture that didn’t quite match her pale pallor. Etoile was worried about Marc’s testimony. I gave her hand a squeeze in return as we waited for Marc to begin.

  If Georgia thought Marc was going to be the last nail in my coffin, it rapidly became apparent she was wrong. Marc answered each of her questions swiftly and succinctly, his testimony exactly matching those of Seren and Etoile. Georgia’s questions grew more curt and angrier as her pacing stride lengthened. Finally, she halted in front of him, hands on her hips, lips pursed. “How did you feel watching the defendant kill your mother?” she asked, spitting out the words, trying to goad him into rage.

  Marc looked up and his jaw shifted slightly. Georgia waited. The room grew silent enough to hear a pin drop as everyone anxiously waited.

  “You want to know how I felt?” Marc asked her, leaning forward. He glanced briefly at me, but his face revealed nothing. “You really want to know?” he repeated. “I was relieved.”

  Georgia frowned. “Relieved?” she repeated in disbelief, her eyes fixed on him.

  “Yes, relieved. I was relieved, okay? Perhaps you forgot that I’d just seen my mother murder my father. Then I watched her maiming and torturing my friends… and…” Marc inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “The things she did to them… What she did to Kitty… So, yeah, Stella did the only thing she could do and I’m grateful she did.”

  Georgia breathed in short, sharp inhalations as she stared at him. Then she seemed to shake herself and looked over to the judiciary. “No more questions,” she snapped before Marc could diminish her case any further.

  Steven took it easy on Marc. He asked him to walk us through the events of that day again, focusing on Jared’s death and the final few minutes when everything went down. He asked Marc to talk about Eleanor’s request that he spy on me, make friends with me, and even romance me if necessary, in order to find out what I knew. He described it in terms such as “devious and repulsive.” When Steven asked Marc why he thought she would have done such a thing, Marc replied, “I didn’t know, but on that day, she confessed everything to us. My mother killed Stella’s parents and she just assumed Stella knew and would eventually use it against her. My mother feared she would lose everything: power, money, and position in our society. She craved power, more than anything else.” His statement ended with a bitter snap and his mouth settled in a thin line of disappointment.

  “Did Stella know Eleanor killed her parents?”

  Marc shook his head. “No, not until that day.”

  When he asked Marc why Astra survived and Eleanor didn’t, Marc seemed as surprised as the rest of the court. “Because my mother was responsible for all this, not Astra. Astra was just being used.” Marc chewed his bottom lip, pausing before he answered, “Stella did the right thing.”

  “Do you believe Stella killed Eleanor Bartholomew as an act of revenge for murdering her parents?” Steven asked.

  “No, I already said she didn’t know until we were attacked,” Marc said. Finally, he looked over at me, with sad eyes. “She didn’t murder my mother in cold blood. Stella simply isn’t that kind of person. She’s not a killer. She saved us. Even me.”

  “Even you?”

  “Yes. I’m sure my mother would have killed me too.”

  “No more questions,” said Steven. From the corners of my eyes, I saw him return to his seat, but my eyes were fixed on Marc as he was ordered to step down. He didn’t look at me when he passed me on the way to the seating area behind us. I had to fight the urge to turn my head and allow my gaze to follow him to his seat. Instead, I worked hard on sitting still, hands in my lap, warmed by the depth of feeling in his words as he defended me when he could so easily have not.

  Georgia repeated the same charade with David, infuriating him by questioning his own sanity and the reliability of his vision. Georgia asked whether his testimony might have been manipulated by the Winterstorms, due to his familial connection with them. She asked him
about my magic and what he taught me; then she asked him if he could confirm exactly what lessons Evan taught me. All David could attest to, since he never observed us during lessons, was that my control improved considerably. I loathed her for attacking Evan’s character, especially when he couldn’t possibly defend himself. I also hated the way she tried to twist everything David said into something nasty. I wondered if Georgia ever felt pangs of guilt, and decided probably not as she concluded, “If everyone in the safe house possessed powerful magic, how did a single neophyte witch disable the dynamically potent wife of our Council’s leader?” she asked.

  David looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “She got there first,” he said after a long moment, during which he fastened his eyes on her. “And when she did… Well, I’ve never seen raw power or anything like that.”

  Steven asked a few more perfunctory questions, establishing that David’s perception of the events matched up with Etoile and Seren’s. After David finished his testimony, he calmly returned to his seat and Seren took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. I was glad they had each other.

  As Steven took his seat, the members of the judiciary leaned in to confer with one another. Finally, Lisette addressed the room. “Court is dismissed until tomorrow morning,” she said, without consulting Steven or Georgia. “Both sides are to be prepared to present their arguments at nine a.m.” The judiciary swept out a moment later, and the noise of chairs scraping backwards erupted behind us as a multitude of feet reanimated and myriad conversations surged aloud at once. It was hard to zone them out, but I ignored them all as I peered past Steven once more. Alison Dorling looked a shade paler after hearing the testimonies, and her chin wobbled slightly like she was trying very hard not to cry. Georgia leaned over to touch her arm, but before she could do so, Alison snatched her arm away. As the bereft woman stood, she fussed with the buttons of her coat, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Georgia said something and Alison’s head shot up. After a few hurried words between them, Alison rushed from the room, with Georgia closely following behind.

  “Let’s go home,” said Etoile and I nodded in agreement.

  ~

  “I think that went well,” said Steven.

  We returned to Etoile‘s apartment, with Micah joining us the moment we stepped into the downstairs lobby. Now the four of us were lounging around, pretending to relax. Or, at least, I was pretending. With the amount of pent-up energy still simmering within me, I probably could have shimmered from coast to coast. Etoile reclined on the sofa, her eyes closed. Micah unabashedly eyed her up and down, while Steven reviewed his notes, which spanned several pages.

  “Really?” I asked dryly. “Georgia spent the day assassinating my character… And Evan’s,” I added. I reached for my purse and extracted my phone, sighing at the blank screen. Still nothing.

  “But not winning,” Steven pointed out. “Etoile‘s and Seren’s testimony was tight. David didn’t let her manipulate him, and if Georgia thought Marc was her secret weapon, she was very badly mistaken.”

  “Marc barely looked at me at all throughout his testimony,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. It puzzled me. After we’d gotten back in touch, things were friendly between us. I knew he would be here because we already planned on meeting up. I suppose I just expected to read something more reassuring from him in his body language. The final glance almost made me cry as he defended me and I felt a renewed surge of gratitude towards him. He could easily have gotten revenge if he wanted it, but he chose not to. I didn’t know whether to reach out to him or not. Considering how Georgia would misconstrue any communication between us while the trial was still in progress — and I had no doubt she would find out somehow — I decided not to call. I would have to find a way to speak to him later, if he wanted to. I hoped I would have the opportunity. I didn’t, for even one minute, dare to let myself relax under the assumption that this trial would go my way. Georgia was duplicitous and sneaky. We might have prevailed on day one, but until I knew her game plan, I had to believe that anything could happen.

  “I think he was playing it safe,” said Steven, not looking up as he flipped a page. “He wouldn’t want to jeopardise the case by being too friendly.”

  “I guess.” I lit up my phone’s screen and checked it again even though I knew there weren’t any text messages or missed calls. “I’m going to make a phone call. I’ll be right back,” I told them, deciding I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Retreating to my bedroom, I closed the door and called Evan. I waited while it rang several times before clicking over to his answering service. “Evan? It’s me again. So, the trial started. It’s worse than I thought. They added another charge to the docket and Georgia’s as fierce as a pitbull. I don’t know how it’s going to go right now. It could go either way, I guess. I’m not sure what to do. I wish you were here to give me some ideas. Micah’s here, by the way, but I guess you know that so… well, call me soon. It’s not like you to not call me back. Did I mention I’m on trial for murder? So, call me. Soon. Bye.”

  I hung up with my back against the door, and waited in anticipation, almost willing the phone to start ringing. It didn’t. Evan and I were never out of contact for this long. If he couldn’t call, he would send a text or an email. Emails! Why didn’t I think of that? A couple of button clicks later and my email inbox appeared on my phone. There was an email from Kitty, dated last night before she called. It was just to tell me that she’d received a summons and what was going on? And another message from my college tutor reminding all students to hand in their papers. There were also several work-related messages that weren’t high priority since Seren and David informed their customers that no orders would be filled this week. But there was nothing from Evan there either.

  Worry niggled at me as I contemplated all the possibilities of why he hadn’t returned my calls. Evan was perfectly capable of looking after himself, I intoned mentally. He was big, strong, and cool when faced with danger. There was no reason for me to worry about him, other than that his lack of contact was unusual, especially given my dire circumstances. I made my mind up to wrestle whatever information Micah had from him. One thing I felt sure of was that Micah knew something about why Evan was MIA. As Evan’s right hand demon, he was privy to all of his business dealings.

  “Will Kitty have to come?” I asked when I returned to the living room. I dropped onto the sofa between Micah and Etoile, fixing my eyes on him to show I might mean business. He narrowed his eyes right back at me.

  “We might not need her to appear,” said Steven. “I have an idea.”

  “We still need to get her just in case,” replied Etoile. “The judiciary may not look favourably on your request.”

  “True.”

  “She’ll need to leave now if she’s going to get here for court tomorrow,” I pointed out. “If she can even get a plane or train ticket at this last minute.”

  “No need. I’ll collect her.” Micah stood, edging away from me.

  “She won’t like your mode of travel,” I told him, patting the seat cushion. “So, sit down. Besides, you’re sworn to protect me. You can’t do that if you’re hot-footing it to Wilding.”

  “She’s right. I’ll go,” said Etoile.

  “Can you do that? It’s a long way to collect someone and bring them back too.”

  “I know.” Etoile smiled. “But seeing my sisters has given me a power boost. Wait here. I’ll be back soon.” I felt the air pop a moment before Etoile disappeared.

  “So?” I said, turning to Micah. He looked cross at not being consulted. “Heard from Evan yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why won’t you tell me where he is?”

  “He is on a work assignment,” he said carefully, like I was a little slow.

  “Where is he?” I replied just as slowly as I searched his face. My eyebrows knitted together in surprise at the fleeting expression of uncertainty. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Strictly speak
ing, no,” he replied in an annoyed tone.

  “Why isn’t he answering my calls?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?” I asked, refusing to give up.

  Micah paused, then glanced at Steven with his head bowed over the paperwork. “Things I can’t tell you,” he said, his tone a bit softer.

  I lowered my voice to match his. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “He said you would be difficult.” Micah stepped around me and inclined his head towards the kitchen. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Steven to overhear.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” I told Steven. “Would you like one?”

  Steven glanced up, but appeared clearly lost enough in his own thoughts. I doubted he would take any notice of Micah’s and my whispered conversation. “Hmm? Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to…” He trailed off as he turned the page, having already forgotten us.

  In the kitchen, I went through the motions of exploring Etoile‘s stock of teas and coffee, finally opting to make tea for us both. “I prefer coffee,” said Micah, when I handed him a hot mug.

  “I prefer answers,” I countered. “What job is Evan working on?”

  “Truly? I don’t know. All I know is it’s keeping him busy for a minimum of one week, and coincided with the day you departed for the city, and that it was a personal request.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “If it weren’t, I would have known about the job.”

  “If he knew what was going on here, he would come. I’m sure of it,” I said, not sure whom I was reassuring. “Have you told him what happened today?”

  “I left a message an hour ago. But I have heard nothing.”

  So he wasn’t answering Micah either. That wasn’t good news. “Do you know where he is?” I asked again.

  “No.”

  “I just want him to call me.”

  A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped, but Micah didn’t offer any comforting words. I didn’t think he could. I genuinely didn’t think he knew where Evan was or why he wasn’t calling. Whatever was keeping Evan from me had little to do with the witches and their opinion of his race. After all, Micah was here, a full-blooded demon compared to Evan’s half-bred, daemon status, so it must have had something to do with the job. Evan never mentioned anything about making a personal request and that struck me as odd. Come to think of it, he didn’t say much about the job at all. When did we start keeping things from each other?