“And is that not outside of normal procedure?” the prosecutor said. “Home Security has its own crime labs, after all.”
“Yes, but there were irregularities in the DNA sample they could not explain, so they asked us to investigate further.”
“And this DNA—did it belong to anyone in this room.”
“It was marked as belonging to Catherine Lysandra.”
The prosecutor unnecessarily motioned to me. “And what conclusion did you come to?”
“That her DNA is something that has not been seen since the war,” he said. “It tells us she is neither human nor shifter. That she is, in fact, déchet.”
Rhea help me, I thought, and closed my eyes, waiting for the hail of bullets that would end my life. The energy of my two ghosts buzzed around me, ready to protect me though not even they could prevent every single gun in this room from firing, let alone protect me from the subsequent rain of metal.
But there were no gunshots, just a chaotic tumble of noise that was both disbelief and fear.
“Enough!” Karlinda’s voice rang out clearly over the pandemonium and silence again fell. “That is clearly impossible, Doctor. All remaining déchet were rounded up and erased in the aftermath of the war. It is simply unthinkable that any could have escaped that net.”
“And yet the results of our tests cannot be argued with,” the doctor said. “I can bring in as many of our technicians as you desire, but the test result will remain the same. Her genome sequencing is unlike anything we’ve seen, and it matches the very few HDP records that do remain.”
“Are you, beyond a doubt, certain of this?”
“As certain as we ever can be given the majority of the department’s documents were destroyed alongside the déchet.”
“This is the reason I ask for the death penalty,” Hedda said. “It’s not because of the crimes she stands accused of here today, but because she is an unwanted—and very dangerous—leftover of a bygone era. The sentence of death was given a long time ago; it is up to this court to apply it.”
“If Catherine Lysandra is to be given a death sentence for having unusual sequencing,” a new and very familiar voice declared. “Then perhaps you’d better sentence me to that same fate.”
Relief washed through me and I briefly closed my eyes.
Jonas.
Finally.
He strode through the doors in full ranger uniform and didn’t even glance my way. But I nevertheless felt the rush of both his anger and his concern. It chased away some of the fear that had settled deep inside me, even though I was far from out of the woods—or the cage—just yet.
“By whose permission do you barge into the middle of this hearing and make such a statement?” the prosecutor said. “You have no right—”
“He has every right,” another voice said. “As he is here under my protection and command.”
My gaze snapped past Jonas. Julius Valkarie stepped into the room, flanked by four heavily armed guards. His gaze settled on mine briefly, and there wasn’t a scrap of fear or loathing to be seen.
Jonas, I said, what in Rhea is going on?
I promised to rescue you. He stopped in front of the platform and bowed to Karlinda. And I never break a promise.
Of that I’m glad, but how did you draw Julius into it?
That was the easy part, he replied. And the fun has only just begun.
As long as your version of fun doesn’t involve gunfire, because I’m standing here trussed tighter than a boar ready for cooking, and under the watchful metal eyes of two autosentries.
Julius has sent his men into the control room. The sentries will soon be deactivated, and the chain clamp released.
Dream will have loyalists scattered amongst the guards in this room. If she feels threatened, she will order them to shoot, and escape in the confusion.
Oh, I have no doubt she will try both, but trust me when I say escape is not an option for her today. This room is completely sealed.
Aside from the open door, you mean.
There’re a hundred men lining that corridor, and full magic shields enabled. She won’t get past them, no matter what she tries.
I hoped he was right. But the day was getting older and Nuri’s deadline was drawing closer, and I had a bad, bad feeling that even if we killed Dream right now, her plans would remain in play and cause chaos to the people and the city we both cared about.
The prosecutor cleared his voice and then said, “Chief Director Valkarie, to what do we owe this honor?”
“I’m here to see justice done. Right now, I don’t believe that to be so.”
Two of the guards accompanying him stopped either side of him. A third moved to the steps closest to the door, and the fourth man moved across to my side of the platform. Their guns, I was relieved to see, were not aimed at me, but rather held in a “ready” position that was semi-aimed at the stage.
Dream didn’t seem to notice—or, if she did, she didn’t think anything of it. Though her expression was one of annoyance, there was no indication that she thought this anything more than a minor blip in her plans.
“Director,” she said. “I don’t understand the reason for your presence here. You yourself signed the approval for both this trial and the DNA tests, and the authenticity of the results—both from our labs and from Bernstein’s—have been verified.”
“Indeed they have,” Julius replied evenly. “It’s the conclusion—that Catherine Lysandra is in fact a surviving remnant of an atrocity long thought erased—that I’m calling into question.”
“And what evidence do you give to back these claims?” the prosecutor said. “Because your word is not enough I’m afraid, Chief Director.”
“I would hope not,” he replied coolly, and motioned someone near the door to come forward.
A dark-haired, brown-skinned man climbed the steps and walked across the platform to the witness stand.
“Introduce yourself,” Julius said.
The man cleared his throat, and with a somewhat apologetic look at Professor Harding said, “My name is Doctor Karl Wainsworth, and I’m also a director at Bernstein’s.”
“And why are you here today?”
“I was asked to run tests on a blood sample by yourself, Chief Director.”
“And where did this sample come from?”
“From the ex-ranger standing beside you, sir.”
“And you’re absolutely sure of this?” Julius said. “You can positively guarantee that the sample was not tampered with in any way?”
“Yes, because I took both the blood and DNA samples myself.”
As murmurs ran through the room, the U-bolt holding my chains in place snapped open. A heartbeat later, the red light that indicated the cage was locked flicked across to green. The collar remained in place, but at least I could now move if I needed to.
Good, Jonas said, obviously catching my thoughts. Because you will need to get out of that cage fast. The shit is about to hit the proverbial fan.
I don’t suppose you care to illuminate me on how?
And spoil the surprise?
I snorted softly and flexed my fingers—and then froze, waiting for the autosentries to react. They didn’t, but their deactivation failed to make me feel any safer. Not when so many armed guards remained in the room; not when we had no idea just how many of them might be loyal to Dream or the woman they knew as Hedda Lang.
“And what did your results reveal?”
“That the ranger has a mix of genes that has not been seen since the war.” Wainsworth glanced across at his fellow doctor. “If we apply the same principles to my samples as to the one Doctor Harding investigated, then despite the fact that Ranger Galloway had an illustrious career during the war and was heavily involved in the cleanup and rebuilding process after it, he is also a déchet.”
And by what piece of magic did you arrange that bit of nonsense? I asked.
His amusement ran through my mind, as warm as the sun on a bright summ
er day. In case you’ve forgotten, we were in a rift together. There’s no other trickery—magical or otherwise—needed. The results are fact, not fiction.
Another murmur ran across the room. My gaze flicked to Dream. Her expression was anything but happy, but I wasn’t getting any sense that she was overly worried by the current turn of events—probably because even if Wainsworth’s testimony took the prospect of my being a dreaded déchet off the table, she still had me for all the other crimes.
“And what do you believe is the reason behind these abnormal readouts?”
“I believe the cause is the same one that led to Ranger Galloway being outcast—he is a declared rift survivor.”
Dream snorted. “There’s no record of Galloway being caught in a rift with a vampire.”
“There’s no such record for any survivor,” Julius stated. “As you should be well aware, Hedda. Nor is there any requirement either these days or back then for survivors to declare such information.”
“Be that as it may,” Dream said. “There is also no record of Catherine Lysandra being a rift survivor.”
“No, because many still fear the specter of being outcast, as it remains in law even if it is no longer applied.”
Dream drew in a breath and released it slowly. “None of which alters the depth of her other crimes. I demand her sentence be deportation to the Higain penal settlement.”
Where I would, undoubtedly, meet with an untimely end. At least I would if she had her way.
“You cannot demand anything,” Julius said. “Please bring in my second witness.”
Get ready to move, Tiger. Cat, Bear, make sure that guard on the left side of her cage doesn’t get the chance to fire.
With pleasure, they intoned grimly.
As inconspicuously as I could, I removed the chain from the U-bolt. Several links clinked against each other and the guard on my right glanced my way. I ignored him, my gaze on the door, as if waiting like everyone else for Julius’s next witness to be revealed.
When he was no longer looking at me, I switched the chain to my left hand and placed my right on the door. It moved fractionally but thankfully made no sound. Tension ran through me, and I barely restrained the desire to just get the hell out of the cage.
Footsteps began to echo in the hallway beyond—one set strong, the other less so. My gaze switched to Dream. There was just the slightest flicker of unease running through her expression, but she didn’t look ready to run.
“You cannot keep bringing in witnesses without previous approval of the court, Chief of Home Securities or not.” Her voice held just the slightest hint of rebuke. “This is an unwarranted action and the speaker should—”
“I cleared my actions with the chancellor before this trial began,” he replied equably. “And she is the only authority in this court that I have to answer to.”
Dream spun around. “Is this true? What game is being played here?”
“No game but justice,” Karlinda replied. Though her back was to me, I didn’t need to see her face to envisage her contempt. It was very evident in those four words.
“I wish to lodge an official protest—”
“So noted,” Karlinda replied calmly. “Now please remain quiet until the next witness arrives.”
Dream’s gaze narrowed but she swung away from the chancellor and returned her attention to the door. But the first people through were guards. They walked up to the dais and silently moved around it, until it was completely surrounded. Three then moved up the stairs and stood either side of Karlinda.
The murmuring got louder, Dream’s unease stronger.
Her fingers were flexing and the foul caress of magic began to stain the air.
She’s gathering her magic, I warned Jonas.
She won’t be able to do much, he said. Not with the spells around this room.
Are you sure of that?
Nuri is.
The footsteps drew ever closer, until, without any sort of fanfare, Nuri stepped into the room.
And with her was Hedda Lang.
She was pale, gaunt, and so unsteady on her feet that she continued to lean on Nuri, but it was unmistakably her.
“Now what game do you play?” Dream snapped, even as her fingers began to move faster. The threads of foulness were gathering around their tips, gradually forming a pulsating ball not dissimilar in feel and look to the shields that protected her rifts.
“No game,” Julius replied, as half the guards surrounding the platform turned and raised their guns, covering Dream as much as protecting Karlinda and the speaker. “Although I, the Department of Home Security, and even Karlinda herself, have certainly been the targets of a most heinous one.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying, Chief Director,” she said, as her fingers stilled. “I have given the department nothing but the utmost loyalty for the majority of my life, even at the cost of my own personal life. I will not have you besmirch my reputation by bringing this wretched look-alike—”
“I am no look-alike,” Lang said, as she and Nuri stopped beside Julius, “and I’m willing to take whatever tests are necessary to prove it. Are you, dear impersonator?”
Dream’s eyes narrowed, and the ink-like foulness she’d gathered to her fingertips began quivering, as if it was about to be launched.
Jonas, warn Nuri Dream has gathered what I presume is some sort of energy weapon to her fingertips.
“Usurping my life and keeping me prisoner is one thing,” Lang continued. “But you also attempted the same on my sister, and for that I cannot forgive you.”
“This is insanity itself!” Dream’s voice held an edge. “Chief, I demand you provide whatever proof you might have for believing this charlatan, or stand aside and let this court proceed.”
“As you wish,” Julius said. “Control, play the tape.”
A light screen shimmered into existence. On it was a rather luxurious bed; in that bed was Karlinda. For several seconds there was no sound other than Karlinda’s soft snores. Then somewhere beyond the camera’s range came the sound of a door swishing open, and then Hedda Lang appeared on screen. She walked across the bed and for several seconds simply stared down at the woman who was her sister. Then she drew a syringe out of her pocket, gently pulled Karlinda’s right arm from under the sheets, and withdrew blood—blood she subsequently squirted into her mouth.
A riot of denials erupted. Dream didn’t move, didn’t twitch. Her face was hard and her eyes narrowed. She was ready to move—to react—and yet still she waited.
I had a growing suspicion that we really shouldn’t.
Jonas—
We cannot move on her yet, he said. There is protocol to be followed, even when the crimes are as heinous as hers.
That protocol might just allow the bitch to escape.
That protocol gave us the time to save your life and gather the necessary evidence against her. His voice was grim. She won’t escape, I promise you that.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t even dare twitch. Because Dream’s gaze was now on me, and there was an oddly gloating glint in her eyes. She might be about to go down, but she wasn’t about to do so without taking me with her.
And that meant whatever she planned, it was more than just gunfire. Given how many soldiers Julius had bought into the room, the minute any of her people made a move toward their weapons, they’d quickly be dealt with.
Which meant it had to be something other than the sphere clinging to her fingertips. I had no idea what she intended with do with the thing, but given it felt similar to the rift shields, it most likely was some sort of barrier—though whether it was meant to protect her or do something else, I couldn’t say. But she was well aware that I could pass through the rift barriers unchecked, so I doubted it would be used against me.
No, there had to be something else here. Something that had been planted well before this court had come into session.
Cat, I said abruptly, do you want to check the area? Look for any so
rt of hidden weaponry. Look under chairs, nooks, and things like that.
Done.
As she raced away, I dropped my gaze to the cage’s floor. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and if she’d had something along the lines of a detonation plate installed, I surely would have heard the soft click of it being armed as I’d stepped into the cage.
I glanced briefly at the light screen. Dream was still holding Karlinda’s hand, but her form was now changing—shifting—to that of the woman still lying on the bed.
Movement caught my attention. I looked quickly back at Dream, but she remained in the exact same position.
But the foul ball was no longer wrapped around her fingers.
I swore softly and quickly looked around, trying to find the thing. After a moment, I caught its faint trail—it was tumbling through the air, heading straight toward the still open doors of the control room.
Jonas— I stopped abruptly as a soft click caught my attention. Nothing else immediately happened, but that creeping sense of doom became a flood.
Out of sheer instinct, I pushed through the soup restraining my powers and then started gathering threads of light to me. I didn’t immediately weave the shield but rather held them at the ready.
The foul ball hit the doors into the control room and then spread, a canker that clung weblike to the metal. No one else seemed to notice, but even as I thought that, I saw Nuri’s head snap around and her gaze narrow.
Energy stirred, its feel bright and clean, and the foul net began to quiver. It did not fall, however.
Another soft beep caught my attention.
Frowning, I studied the cage again and then looked up. Nothing. So where was that damn sound coming from?
I returned my gaze to Dream. She had one hand in her pocket and she was very obviously holding something. For several seconds we simply stared at each other—her eyes glinting with triumph while my gut churned with ever-increasing fear.
Then she silently mouthed, Goodbye.
At the same time, Cat screamed, Bomb!
I cast the shield around me, called to the shadows within my soul, and then threw myself out of the cage. But even as I did, a huge eruption of heated air clubbed me, battering me sideways and then sending me tumbling head over heels. I crashed into the corner of the dais near the rear wall, and was battered by a tidal wave of wood and metal and bloody bits of flesh. My head rang and the various parts of my body that hadn’t quite shifted pulsed with pain. Warmth flowed down my leg and neck, but it didn’t matter. I’d survived the blast.