The sharp rap of a gavel sent a lightning bolt up her back.
“I call this session to order.” Judge Reed Molina, a warlock known for his fairness, sat at the center of the triune, his steely blue eyes set like diamonds in his broad, round head. “Will the prosecution please rise?”
Aurora’s stomach dissolved into acid as vampire Dante Calvo stood up and buttoned his jacket.
“Mr. Calvo,” Molina began, “in all the documents submitted, the prosecution has relied on the testimony of one Theophilus Abernathy to identify the guilty party and give particulars of the crime. Is that correct?”
“It is, your honor.”
Aurora’s heart sank. So much for her hopes of a hat trick.
“The court has also received reports pertaining to the death of Mr. Abernathy. Can you verify the truth of these reports, Mr. Calvo?”
“Your honor, I can. The body of Mr. Abernathy was discovered in the Sanguine Sea with his throat cut.”
Even though reports of Theophilus’s murder had swept through Othercross like wildfire, gasps still echoed through the courtroom. At the news, the head judge’s eyes flickered over to Aurora and a jagged knot tied itself in her throat.
“I am to understand that we have a member of your team who can bear witness to this.”
“Yes, your honor.”
Dante turned his eyes down to her and every hair on Aurora’s body stood on end. She had to double down to keep some wild display from breaking out and sending the courtroom into disarray. At Dante’s gesture, she rose to stand next to him.
“Please state your name for the court.”
“Aurora Imogen Rhonelle, your honor.” She kept her eyes fixed on Judge Molina’s face. If she wavered and caught even the merest glimpse of Dane, whatever tenuous hold she had on herself might unravel.
“Miss Rhonelle, would you please tell me about your encounter with the witness. I understand it was unique.”
“Yes, your honor.” Her face flushed hot. It was about to become a point of public record that she was a failure of a necromancer. “I was out at the Sanguine Sea yesterday afternoon, and well… I was bungee jumping.”
“Bungee jumping?” Judge Molina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I must say, you don’t look like the type.”
“No, your honor, it was…” Her eyes flickered to Dane in spite of herself, and she had to clamp down to stay focused. “It was a singular experience. At any rate, once the jump was completed, the entire situation was so intense that I accidentally raised Mr. Abernathy from where his body had been dumped in the sea.
“Accidentally raised him?”
“Yes, your honor. My skills as a necromancer are, as yet...unrefined.” Aurora stole a rueful glance at the stenographer.
“Please continue.”
“Of course. I had no idea he was down there. Nobody did. But in my excitement, I caused Mr. Abernathy to surface and saw that his throat had been cut. He was gesturing as if he had something very important to tell me, but I couldn’t understand him.”
“So, in fact, nothing from the encounter could indicate that the defendant is the guilty party. Is that correct?”
“Yes, your honor. He simply made some hand motions I couldn’t decipher and then sank back into the sea after a few seconds.”
“Mr. Calvo, I turn again to you. The authorities have recovered the body of Mr. Abernathy. Is that correct?”
“It is, your honor.”
“And after the event with Ms. Rhonelle, Mr. Abernathy has made no more efforts to offer evidence?”
Griffin Finch stifled a tiny snort of laughter.
“No, your honor.” Calvo slumped almost imperceptibly, and Aurora stood even firmer so as not to show weakness in front of Urelia Mallow. She did, however, flinch just a tiny bit when Judge Molina cracked his gavel on the bench.
“In light of these developments, and with no other evidence or witnesses against the defendant, this triune has no choice but to call a mistrial. This court is dismissed.”
Despite the sparsely populated courtroom, Aurora felt momentarily lost in a swirl of activity. Finch had fairly sprung from his chair and was out the door before the triune could change its collective mind.
Urelia rose and strode out, without even casting a glance at Aurora. Dane, on the other hand, lingered behind the bench, clearly eager for some sort of contact. She could feel his essence calling out to her from across the room.
And she was tempted. Sorely tempted to meet him in his chambers again. Now that the trial was officially out of the way, nothing would be between them. Except, that is, the very concrete fact that he would be leaving all but immediately for home. The whole situation soured her far more than she could have imagined. And she had imagined pretty far.
“You did well,” Dante clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Better luck next time.”
She offered him a weak smile, and he was off. Now, she and Dane were nearly the only ones left in the room. And she was in no state to handle that.
Falling into almost a dead run, she bolted from the room, leaving the handsome werewolf behind her—perhaps forever. He was going back home, and she reckoned she might not have a home to go back to before too long. After this evident failure, she was all but certain she would be fired.
As much as everyone at Hollow House professed to love and support her—as much as the House itself seemed to value her—the plain fact was, there was nothing she could do. She was certain to be canned the moment she returned to the office. With no job, she had no way to pay her share of the rent. And that was that.
The thought pursued her down the stairs like a cloud, pushing her to charge even faster toward the office. By the time she reached the door, her mind was made up. Rather than sitting around waiting for the inevitable, she was going to rip off the bandage herself. At least there was a modicum of control—not to mention dignity—in resignation.
She opened the door and headed straight for Paul’s office, doing her best not to run. Keeping her eyes forward, she refused to look at the hyenas waiting to pick her to pieces.
“He’s not in, I’m afraid.” Cleon’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
For a moment, she stood suspended, but then she steeled herself and turned to face the others. It was a sea of bared teeth masquerading as smiles.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“Who’s to say?” Cleon gloated. “As soon as word came down about the mistrial, he bolted out of here like his ass was on fire.”
“Probably looking for you,” Heather said, smacking the gum she always chewed when the brass was out. “So he can fire you.”
Heather’s hate carried a brand of laziness that only made it crack sharper against Aurora’s spirit, as if dislike for her was the easiest route to take.
“We’ve got bets on it, actually.” Eric was idling in a chair, his bulk making him an easy target.
All Aurora wanted to do was raise her arms and bring down a clattering maelstrom of paper and fury on the room. The glory of it swelled under her skin, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from surrendering to it.
She needed an anchor. Anything.
Across the room, tucked into his corner, she spotted Gotho. He kept his head down, his eyes averted. In her heart, she knew he would be in her corner. Hell, it was clear he had a crush on her, but silence was the only way to navigate the moment. It might have been safer for him, but it left Aurora without an ally of any kind in the viper pit.