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"Wait!" she cried
out. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you the name."

"Now, bitch!" Jack
thundered. "No more words but the killer's name."

Josephine nodded so hard I
thought her head would snap. "Her name was-"

I got a chill over my skin.
The same unsettling feeling I got in the elevator before Kenny was killed.

I jumped to my feet.
"The killer!"

But in a blink of an eye,
Jack was thrown back and the desk was engulfed in flames. I saw Josephine's body,
writhing in the inferno. She was pinned.

"Josephine!" I
screeched, taking a step forward. I had a sudden, irrational need to propel
myself forward. She was so beautiful...I had to save her.

"No!" Jack yelled,
pulling me toward the door. "It's not real, Jade!"

But it felt real. Her
writhing form called out to me. I could still feel her hot lips on mine. Hot
like the blue flames that licked the ceiling.

"The alarms are about to
go-"

The shrill of the fire alarm
sliced through his words. But all I heard was a small squeak. An unpleasant
chirp that paled in comparison to the horror in front of me.

There were no more screams
now.

I fought against Jack as he
scooped me into his arms, pressing my face to his shirt.

"Let me go!" I
wailed. "I have nothing to live for without her."

I could hear Mom's muffled
voice, mixing with the screeches of the alarm. "What happened?"

"No time," Jack
answered, moving swiftly downstairs. " We have to go."

"Oh mama," I
sobbed. "She's gone. The killer set her on fire."

"She was glamoured,"
Mom huffed, trying to keep up with Jack.

"No," I snapped.
"I love her!"

"That bitch!" Mom
screeched, holding the door open for Jack. "I oughta go back up there and
kill her myself!"

"You take that
back!" I wailed in between coughs.

"You there!" A
voice shouted over the commotion. I peered over Jack's shoulder and spied two
men in uniforms charging toward us.

I flailed my arms manically,
beckoning them toward us.

"Stop it, Jade!"
Mom hissed. But it was too late, I saw the swirl of police lights, the sirens
mixing with the hoot of the fire alarm.

Jack slowed and turned
around. He unloaded me and addressed my mother. "It's not safe here. I'll
get rid of them."

Three men in campus PD
threads advanced, shooting leery glances at Jack.

"Did you three just come
from the sociology building?" one of them asked, shining a light in our
faces.

"Sir-"

"Yes!" I said,
interrupting Jack. "Dr. Defleur, Josephine – she's in there. She's
dead!"

The rent-a-cops definitely
responded to my last sentence. Their hands were at the ready, close to the guns
at their hips.

"Dear, you're not
helping," Mom said through clenched teeth.

One of the cop's walkies
buzzed to life. A fire truck was minutes away.

"I'm gonna need all of
you to come with us for questioning."

"I need to tell you
about-haraff!" I gurgled as Jack's hand covered my mouth.

"Gentleman," he
said, his voice as soft as silk. "I need all eyes on me."

Without hesitation, they
turned like robots, their eyes locked on Jack's.

"A janitor was having a
smoke and accidentally started the fire."

All three nodded in unison.
"A janitor started the fire."

"We were just passing
through," Jack continued, the quiet power of his glamour emanating from
his words. "And we will continue on our way."

I garbled a few choice words.

"Pay no attention to my
friend here. Good night, gentleman."

"Have a good night
sir," they echoed, turning back to the commotion around the building.

Jack released my mouth, but
still gripped my wrist, yanking me toward the car.

"How dare you!" I
shrieked. "First you do nothing to help Jo-"

"Is there nothing you
can do to diminish the glamour?" Jack said to my mother, prying open her
door.

"Unfortunately no,"
she said, sliding into the backseat. "A succubus's glamour is like the
flu...it just has to work its way through the system."

"What a shame,"
Jack said quietly. I couldn't tell if he was talking about me being infected by
Josephine or the fact that we were officially out of leads.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

A Little Help

 

We sat on the patio of Qdoba
Mexican Grill. The sun was warm and bright and people chattered about the nice
day and their weekend plans. I was sipping the best margarita in Raleigh and I
just wanted to roll up in a ball and die. Not because my Trial started in a few
measly hours, but because I'd watched Josephine die a slow, agonizing death.

I swiped at a tear coursing
down my check. "It was so terrible."

"Gods," Sia said
with an eyeroll. "When will her bond to that thing break?"

Mom let out an exhausted
sigh, dipping a chip in queso. "It's gotten better if you can believe it.
She was inconsolable all night, wailing on and on about her long-lost lover
Jo." She shook her head. "Saying goodbye to her boyfriend was a
sidebar."

"He's not my
boyfriend!" I snapped. "He's a stubborn, annoying, infuriatingly
handsome fanger."

Sia and Mom exchanged
glances. "So they're still on the fritz?" Sia asked.

My mother nodded. "He
didn't even kiss her goodnight."

"I didn't want him to
kiss me goodnight," I said, sticking out my lip stubbornly. I glanced over
my shades at a skinny blonde who sashayed to our table. "Naomi?"

She was all smiles.
"Sorry I'm late."

Sia's purple eyes brightened.
"A shifter."

Naomi raised a perfectly
arched brow. "And you're a fairy."

Sia licked her lips with
delight. "Why, I haven't had shifter in twenty years."

Naomi's new blue eyes went
silver and I could feel her putting up a ward. "Your fairy friend,"
she said to me. "She gonna be a problem?"

I shot Sia a look over my
shades. "No, she isn't. Right?"

Sia rolled her eyes and
slurped her shake. "Shifter meat is super tough anyway."

Naomi pulled out a chair
opposite Sia and sat down with a sigh. "I heard about Josephine."

Mom winced at her name, like
she was worried just the mention of her would push me over the edge. It wasn't
lost on Naomi, whose perfect lips curled into a grin. "She fed on
Jade?"

"They kissed," Sia
replied.

"You're really taking
this ‘live like you're dying’ thing to heart, huh?" Naomi said with a
wink. She bit her lip when I pushed my shades to the crown of my head and saw I
wasn’t in a joking mood. "Don't give up hope, Jade."

"Hope?" I snorted.
"I have to face The Watchers in a few hours. I can still feel Josephine
coursing through my veins. And I have a bad feeling."

"Well, that's why I came
to see you," Naomi said brightly, pulling out a manila folder.

I glanced at it. "A
pardon?"

"Not quite." She
flipped it open. "I did a little digging and I got twenty letters of
character references together."

I looked down at them in
disbelief, not even knowing what to say. I flipped through the signatures in
amazement. There were a couple from some of the necromancers from the office,
one from Luna Madison, the owner of a new age bookstore in Chapel Hill. I saw a
couple of signatures from my fledgling days in New York – a Healer that I
went to after the first ghost I summoned projected me through the wall, a troll
that worked at my favorite coffee shop on 65th and Madison, and a muse I'd lent
an ear to when her boyfriend was being a jerk after a burlesque show. Seeing
all the support from the magical community was humbling...and it made the very
real chance that today was my last day on earth heartbreaking.

This couldn't be the
end...not after I spent years feeling like a freak and an outsider. Not after
psychiatrists and holy men alike had told me that prayer and drugs were the
answer.

Magic had saved my life and
opened a world of possibilities...I wasn't a freak. I was a witch that could
bridge the gap between the natural and supernatural world. There was still so
much I wanted, needed to do.

"Twenty supernaturals
staking their heads on your innocence?" Mom said, bouncing with delight.
"That's amazing, Naomi!"

"Twenty one," Sia
said with a smirk. "I'll bring it when I come tonight."

I flashed Sia a smile, tears
welling in my eyes. "Thanks. That really means a lot."

Sia's round eyes widened.
"You're not gonna cry again, are you?"

I laughed, swiping at my
eyes. "Tears of happiness. For now."

She shuddered, pushing her
shades down over her eyes, shielding me from view.

"So what time should I
show up at the Great House?" Naomi asked, running a hand through her
golden hair.

"I haven't officially
gotten my summons yet. I don’t know whether to be worried or optimistic,” I
said, chomping on a tortilla chip.

“Oh, you should definitely be
worried,” Sia said without missing a beat. “My great cousin Lazarus was brought
up on charges of exposure after he laid into a sorority house in Connecticut
back in the 60s. The humans pawned it off on Satanists of course, or a Manson
copycat or something or other, but The Watchers weren’t so forgiving. They
compelled him to Trial and clipped his wings.”

I gulped. When a fairy had
its wings clipped, it’s a double-edged sword. First they have to go through the
brutal mutilation of the Executioner hacking off their wings with a crude
instrument. Then they’re scorned by the fae community, doomed to live out the
rest of their days alone.

Sia let out an indignant
scoff. “They didn’t even care that he was from a noble line. The Executioner
just took the blade and-”

Naomi cleared her throat,
exchanging a glance with Sia. Sia took stock of the ashen look on my face and
my mother’s and forced a smile. “Gods, that was so long ago though!” She
reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

But the damage was done. My
shoulders sank with the reality of my situation. There really was no getting
out of this. All signs pointed to me being royally screwed.

“You should put something in
your belly, honey,” Mom insisted. “You’ve barely touched your plate.”

I glanced down at my baja
taco and queso. I didn’t have much of an appetite. “I’m good.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I insist,
Jade. You need to eat something.”

“Well, you know what, Mom?
This could very well be my last day on Earth. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m
not really in the mood to stuff my face.”

My voice carried in the muggy
air, drawing the eye of nosy passerbys and customers from nearby tables.

“Your mom’s just worried
about you, Jade,” Naomi said, trying to defuse the situation.

“She should worry a little
more about my impending execution,” I said acidly, crossing my arms.

An uncomfortable silence
descended upon the table. Everyone was suddenly extraordinarily concerned with
their plates and drinks, no one wanting to say anything that might set me off.

I turned my attention to the
sidewalk, watching the people stride past. Each person had a story –
there was the overpaid executive, barking at some poor soul on the other end of
the call. A bubbly group of co-eds in pink Delta Delta Delta t-shirts giggled
as they strutted by the patio. A harried looking mother followed, with a
stroller in one hand and a precocious toddler in the other.

I saw three different paths
that I could have ended up on if I’d decided to ignore my call to the Craft
– one where I’d gone on to become successful. A ‘B’ in my own right.
There was another where I’d buckled down academically and took the SAT, getting
into a modest state school and spending my days gossiping and dreading finals.
And then there was the mother – what would that have been like? I felt
responsible for the deaths I’d unintentionally caused, but being responsible
for a child, your own flesh and blood; that was a whole different thing.

I let out a sigh, pushing
aside the possibilities. All that was left for me was a Trial by supernaturals
who notoriously frowned upon humans being a part of their world in the first
place. My possibilities were death by the blade or death by fire.

“Necro,” a voice whispered.

I glanced up at Sia. “I’m not
in the mood for the name calling right now, Sia.”

She raised her eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”

I swallowed. “You just said
something.”

She shook her head slowly,
looking at me like she thought I was losing my marbles.

“Necro.”

“There it was again!” I
gasped, slamming my hand on the table. But I was looking right at Sia, at all
of them. No one had even opened their mouths.

And then I saw her.

Weaving in and out of the
lunchtime hustle, she moved like an apparition. She was decked in flowing black
robes that trailed the ground like a gothic wedding dress. Her face was covered
by a hood, masking all and promising everything.

Mom caught the look in my
eyes and turned to see what had garnered such a reaction. “What are you looking
at, Jade?”

“That woman,” I said quietly.
“In the cloak.” I followed her movements as she pushed back her hood, revealing
long, ebony hair as dark as the night. Her features were fair and youthful
except for her eyes. They were wrinkled and brittle, a white glaze covering her
cornea.

“What woman in a cloak?” Mom
asked, confused.

Naomi’s face fell. “It’s the
Messenger. She’s come to compel Jade to court this eve.”

Mom glanced over again, her
eyes wild. “But I don’t see anyone.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sia said,
polishing off her chocolate milk. “The Messenger is only seen by the Accused.”

I reared back as the
Messenger stopped at our table. Her milky eyes bore into mine. I wanted to look
away…everything screamed for me to not look into her depths, but I had no
control. I was powerless.

“Jade Catherine Murray?” Her
voice was like ice water, frigid and startling.

“That’s me,” I said hoarsely.

“I am here on behalf of The
Watchers. You are to report to Gaia’s Gardens at the witching hour to stand
Trial for the crime of Exposure of the Supernatural World and Using Magic to
Harm Mortals.”

She scanned my face. “Do you
understand the charges that have been brought against you?”

“I understand,” I said
hollowly.

“And you understand that
failure to appear will render an automatic verdict of Guilty?”

“Y-yes.”

Mom reached over and clutched
my hand for support.

The Messenger bowed, her
midnight hair sinking its fingers into the pavement. “My work is done.”

She snapped her fingers and
disappeared in an instant.

I let go of the breath I had
been holding.

“What did she say?” Mom
asked, noting the scared shitless look on my face.

“The Trial is tonight. At
midnight.”

 

 

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Transcription by Ike Hamill