L. BANKS - Cursed To Death

The blind, old crone that always presided over the trials came out with her bewitched ledger and pen, which looked more like a wand than a writing instrument. She set the book of records in the air aloft and flung the pen at it so that the pen hovered above the book.

“There is no stenographer, save the book. It records only that which is truth. The normal recorder is too traumatized to attend… She is of the Mer-a Siren crier of the deep-and even she will not be party to this travesty.”

The crone’s voice sounded like fingernails on a blackboard and all the wolves in attendance cringed until she was done speaking. She pointed to the gavel and it immediately stood on its handle and spun around, wildly shrieking.

“All rise… Court is in session! The book shall be the judge, the record cannot be altered!”

The large, dusty tome that appeared as though it were covered with ancient black serpent skin creaked open with a thud in the air, flipped several of its moldy pages to a clean page, and then waited as the pen poised itself above it.

“We have a very serious complaint,” the crone murmured. “A capital offense that could and has caused war to break out even in front of humans.” She turned toward the back of the court and pointed with a gnarled, arthritic finger. “Bring in the prisoner!”

Wolves howled and Shogun and his men escorted the slight figure down the aisle bound in iron and reeking of rowan. Fae drew back and covered their noses and mouths with cloths and forest leaves, but their eyes hardened and their jeers rang out as a sickly-looking Kiagehul passed their grandstands. A growl crawled up Sasha’s and Hunter’s throats; this was the man who had nearly wiped out their entire family. Vampires curled their lips, showing fangs, insulted by the open hostility exhibited by the Seelie in court.

But the aisle suddenly became ice slicked as a frigid blast dropped the temperature by forty degrees and caused frost to cover the boxes and chairs. Sir Rodney turned from where he sat with Sasha and Hunter in the front box on the right and all eyes followed his as Queen Blatand of Hecate strode down the aisle.

This new threat absorbed Sasha’s complete focus for a moment. The queen had the most fragile features she had ever seen. If she weren’t so evil, one might have called her beautiful. She had large, amazingly clear, pale blue eyes. Her eyebrows were a perfect arch of platinum hair that nearly matched her skin as though she were albino. Set against her huge, questioning eyes was a delicate dusting of white lashes. She had a tiny button nose and a cherub’s mouth, interestingly hued a deep blue that caused such a contrast against her skin that Sasha had to stare. Her small breasts were the perfect teacup size, pushed up in an elegant, old-world, beaded gown, her entire tiny torso and wasp waist held firmly by unforgiving corset stays.

Icicle earrings sparkled in her ears; seed pearls, diamonds, and bits of blue ice crusted her ice-blue gown. In her delicate hands she carried an ice wand and a large fan made of packed snow that had a pattern of snowflakes. But it totally blew Sasha’s mind to see her strut down the center aisle in ice stilettos, eyes locked in hatred with Sir Rodney’s.

“Clearly you did not believe that I would allow you to put a member of my court to death without the proper trial and formalities to be sure that action would be sanctioned.” She gave Sir Rodney the evil eye and then promptly slid into the Vampire booth, taking the baron’s arm.

“I might have known that you would be in bed with that cold-blooded Vampire bastard,” Sir Rodney spat. “Ice water also runs in your veins, so I’m not a bit surprised by the alliance.”

The queen fanned herself as the Vampires hissed, remaining cool. “Always hotheaded, my summer prince,” she said in a deceitfully sensual tone. “It is uncomfortably warm in this swamp of a location you’ve exiled yourself to… therefore, I do not take your unchivalrous welcome as an affront. It must be the heat that has you so cross and unmannerly.”

“Welcome to New Orleans, Your Majesty,” the baron crooned, his eyes black with rage as he looked over at the Seelie bench. “Although this has at times devolved into what amounts to a kangaroo court, today our objective is justice for your captured national who is being held hostage-as well as for my wrongfully attacked lair and establishment.”

“Held hostage?” a Fae archer shouted from the back. “The bastard killed me brother!”

“Order, order!” the gavel yelled, whacking itself on the empty judge’s bench.

“My top advisors tell me that when the Seelie Fae archer died, my court member was in iron chains,” the queen said coolly.

“Metaphorically speaking,” Sir Rodney argued. “Your man was in custody at the time, true, but he is at the root of all of this.”

The queen turned to the Vampire box, and looked at them and then the Unseelie who were seated behind them, her gaze falling on her top advisors. “Surely a man shan’t be put to death for meta phors?”

Loud jeers rang out from both sides of the aisle and it took several minutes for the gavel to regain order.

“Let us have the first complaint,” the crone screeched, making the pen above the pages quiver.

“We do this with blood oaths,” Sir Rodney demanded.

“I object on the grounds that there is no presiding judge or neutral party, thus any testimony that is inadvertently twisted could endanger the life of the witness called,” the baron sniffed. “It is the law .” His black gaze raked the courtroom. “Testimony is taken, then corroborated with blood seals after all testifying parties are safe within their respective fortified encampments or in some sort of protective custody-unless there are neutral peacekeeping forces present… which, if you have a look around, there are not.”

“Objection sustained,” the gavel called out and flailed itself against the bench with a loud whack.

“You always have an angle, don’t you, Vampire. Well, tonight, one night before Midsummer-the height of our Fae power-your luck has run out!” Sir Rodney stepped forward, recounting the series of events as the pen wrote furiously. “We have evidence,” he said, concluding. “The human girl who now lies injured in the human hospital-Tulane-took cell phone photos… and we have eyewitnesses who went to the three attics, and were attacked. Only, this time, they all lived to tell about it, so you do not have the shroud of death making the evidence impossible to fathom.”

“Step forward,” the crone said, curling her finger toward Sasha, Hunter, and Shogun. “Speak. One at a time.”

“You saw for yourselves what has been reported in the human news,” Sasha said, looking around the court. “Normally we cannot produce evidence, because magick fades or Vampire stealth cannot show up on any device that captures an image. But a fire that burns like the one captured on the news, you all know to be from Unseelie spells reacting with a backlash. Each spell had a dead man’s switch in it so that it would be hard as hell to defuse without blowing yourself up… And that’s what happened to one of my human teammates. She saved our lives, but hers is hanging in the balance. If nothing else comes out of this trial, I hope that someone with the specialty of unwinding bad magick will help us help Clarissa.”

Murmurs of discontent filled the courtroom, but Hunter stepped forward and that brought curious silence.

“As Shadow Wolves,” Hunter said, “we cannot lie. Lies are caught in our aura and trapped by the silver in it… The scent of burning sterling gives us away. So, I am no liar when I tell you what we encountered in the shadow lands… and how my family was barred entry to our natural right, and stripped of our gift to travel free and unfettered, by evil spells cast by the Unseelie named Kiagehul-aka Kennan MacDougall, when in Seelie Court.”