Renegade (22 page)

He paused, power crackling around him as his gaze swept the room. “On you who are to judge, I lay this
geas
. You must vote only if your mind is open now, not judge on any preconception, and you will not speak of this, will not write of it, until you vote on the morrow.”

The power of the
geas
, the binding, rolled through the room, encompassing the onlookers and giving each of their faces a brief, golden glow.

Gerry turned to Griff. “Griffin Rhys Dare, stand forth.”

Valeria gave his hand a last squeeze before she released it. He rose, buttoning his suit jacket, and took his stance before the obsidian seat. Although his heart was doing quick time, he felt strangely calm. No more running, no more hiding, no matter how this turned out.

“You stand accused,” Gerry said, “of the willful murders of Milt Alden, chief councilor of the Southeastern Shire Collegium Council, and of four deputy reeves, Terrence Lewis, Delia Swann, Max Argot, and John Darby, who attempted to stop you as you fled after killing Chief Councilor Alden.”

Gerry continued, charging him with murdering Allie, Sykes, and Corin, too. The silence, the concentration, in the chamber pressed on Griff like lead. Without the shackles dampening his power, he could feel the vibrations of the spectators’ magic in the air.

Finally, Gerry looked back at him. “What say you to these charges?”

“I accept responsibility for those deaths, but they were not murder.” Even to him, that sounded absurd. How could you be responsible for eight people’s deaths without being a murderer?

As though to taunt him with the question, Dan Jacobs, Griffin’s predecessor as shire reeve, father to Corin and Mitch, walked down the stairs and squeezed into a seat. Dan looked tired, old. That scumbag Blake’s treason had cost too many people far too much.

Gerry read out a list of other charges, all involving ghoul collaboration, all totally bogus, and Griff denied them.

“Finally,” Gerry said, “you stand accused of conspiring to bring demons through the Veil into the land.”

“I deny that, too. Shire Reeve Valeria Banning and I stopped ghouls from bringing demons through.”

“Having heard the accusations and having answered,” Gerry said, “be seated. Tell us what you would have us know.” He walked back to his own place, a marble stool set in front of the councilors.

Griff settled himself on the black chair, resting his hands on his knees. Even without chains, this seat would never be comfortable.

“I did kill Alden, because he was in league with the ghouls. One of my deputy reeves who was injured in a failed raid knew he was dying and wanted peace. He admitted to helping Alden warn the ghouls. I accused Alden in the Council chamber, he denied it, and no one believed me.”

He kept his voice steady, but the memory of what had come next still haunted him and probably always would. “In the firefight after that, four deputy reeves died. I consider that my fault for not managing events better.”

Of course their families and friends despised him for that. They had every right.

“As for the rest, I categorically deny having any dealings with the ghouls except for trying to stop them. I categorically deny doing anything to favor or help them. I deny killing Allie or Corin, though I feel responsible because they were trying to help me. I did kill Sykes in self-defense, after he killed Allie.

“And I absolutely, on my life, damned well deny ever doing anything for the benefit of demons.” His anger bubbled behind the words, and he let it. He’d had more than enough of being the mage world’s favorite villain.

The aura held blue as it faded.

Blake rose to question him on the council’s behalf. “Your father is one of our most esteemed attorneys, yet you never sought legal vindication.”

“I considered it.” Griff looked up at Dan Jacobs, Corin’s father. “Acting Shire Reeve Corin Jacobs tried to arrange a hearing for me. He phoned me to say the Council intended to grant me one, but only as a lure. When I surrendered, they would kill me. While we were on the phone, someone killed him.”

He let the pain of that memory show as he looked steadily at Corin’s father. Dan’s face tightened, with grief stark in his eyes.

Blake pursed his lips. “Corin Jacobs was killed with a staff weapon. You are the only mage in the Southeast who uses one.”

“Only I use one regularly,” Griff corrected. “Students sometimes train with them, and the Collegium has several in the armory.” As Blake well knew. Griff took a moment to master his temper, then bit out, “You don’t need much skill to blast a mage in the back.”

“Who do you claim killed Corin Jacobs, if not you?”

Griff narrowed his eyes at Blake. “Since the killer was screened, invisible to scrying, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

“Only if one doubts you killed the man who pursued you doggedly. You’re asking us to be conspiracy theorists.” Blake gave the room a cool smile. “You may believe what you say, Griffin Dare, but that does not mean you are correct. What proof have you of Alden’s supposed treason? Or anyone else’s?”

“I have no proof of Alden’s treason, as I’m sure you know. As for anyone else’s…” Griff paused, leveling a hard stare at Blake. “Yesterday’s session was illuminating.”

“Do you wish to make an accusation?” Blake bit out the words.

Gerry stood. “Accusations must be made in their proper form and time. Griffin, if you wish to lay a charge, you may do so when this proceeding concludes tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Watching Blake, Griff bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. “I’ll do that. As for the charge I made against Alden, I acted on a deathbed confession, as I said. It’s not something I can reproduce for you here.”

“Nor is it something we can verify. I assume you’ve tried scrying for proof?”

“I have. As we all know, scrying has its limits. It doesn’t display sound. It can’t reveal events that are screened or events yet to be. You can’t exactly use Google to browse for what you want.”

The crowd chuckled, breaking the tension. They might not like him, but a lot of them didn’t hate him. He could feel that in the magic they all shared.

“So you have no proof,” Blake repeated.

Before Griff could answer, a deep voice said, “I can corroborate the confession.”

V
al jerked her head in the direction Griffin was glaring, toward the Council seats. In the center of their bench, Stefan Harper stood, his hard, brown eyes fixed on Gene’s face.

Val leaned toward Hettie. “Did you know about this?”

“Only Stefan and I knew,” Stuart said softly. “Griff would’ve forbidden it, but this is critical. It’s the only way to clear him of murder in Alden’s death. Once that’s done, all the rest will follow.”

“Yield the chair,” Gerry ordered, glancing at Griffin.

Griffin’s eyes held Stefan’s for a long moment, and then he stood. His face stony, he walked back to his seat at the table.

Stefan took the black chair. His eyes swept the room. “I treated Deputy Reeve Zeb Vance. He was dying, wounded too badly for us to save, and he was angry. He told me he’d helped Alden send mages to defend ghoul nests. Alden never told the deputies of the consequences. Zeb wanted absolution before he died. I told the shire reeve at the time, Griffin Dare, and I’ve kept silent all these years at his insistence.”

The aura around the chair glowed blue. The audience’s shock vibrated in the air, and only the crackling of the torches broke the silence.

Val slid her hand into Griffin’s. He looked too grim for a man hearing testimony that could clear him. “What’s wrong?”

“One of us with his ass on the line was enough.”

Val sighed. “Someday, you’ll realize you can’t protect everyone you care about. And you don’t have to.”

Griffin said nothing, watching his friend, but he laced his fingers through hers.

Stefan again looked around the room. “He has paid a high price for trying to protect us. We cannot, in good conscience, condemn him for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerry said, sounding as though he meant it, “but you aren’t to advocate while sitting there. That’s for after, for the accused or his counsel.”

Judging from the faces looking down at them, advocacy would be mere icing on the cake of Griffin’s acquittal. He and Val might actually have a shot at a life together.

Anticipation was a fool’s game, Griff reminded himself late that night, staring at the ceiling of his cell. He’d learned never to count on anything, especially anything good, until it arrived.

Yet he couldn’t get Marc’s words that afternoon out of his head.
As a man sows, thus shall he reap
, Marc had said, quoting the Bible, at the end of a somewhat embarrassing litany of Griff’s activities in Wayfarer. Hearing it all felt good, though. It made him hope, whether he wanted to trust that or not.

At least he’d left a good mark somewhere, no matter how this trial turned out.

Something moved near the door. He sat up, and the cell’s lights rose automatically.

Gene Blake stepped into view. Griff swallowed a triumphant grin.

“If you accuse me, they won’t believe you.”

Griff drew his unchained leg up, rested his bare foot on the bunk’s edge. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”

The older man gave him a smug look. “Then you and Valeria ride off into the sunset and make lovely babies? You’ll never be welcome here again, either of you. Even if they’re foolish enough to let you walk.”

“We’ll see.” Unfortunately, Blake had a point. Valeria might find her welcome here thin if she stuck with Griff, even if the mages acquitted him.

“The arresting mages said you told her you loved her before you flashed her away. If that’s true, you should put her before yourself. Confess. Admit you killed willfully, conspired to bring demons through, that you tampered with the chair wards so they showed your lies as truth. I’ll see you out of the country, give you a new start anywhere you choose.”

“Geez, Blake, how powerful do you think I am? More to the point, how powerful have you convinced them I am?”

Blake was attempting to influence a witness. Where were the guards, that he would risk this conversation? Did he have them in his pocket?

Blake’s smile was sinister. “You’re strong enough to evade capture for six years, strong enough to send Valeria farther than the mage perimeter around that demon gate, strong enough to touch the orb and walk away sane. They’ll believe.”

“Maybe the gullible ones.” The ankle chain dampened Griff’s precog along with his magic, but he didn’t need it to know something was very wrong here. With no magic, no mobility, no weapons, he had the fighting chance of a fish in a barrel.

“Sign a confession, and I’ll fix her life. And yours.”

Give up, when all he’d longed for was within reach?

Griff let his grin erupt. “No deal. I’ll have your ass for breakfast. ‘And your little dog, too.’”

“Your mistake, Dare.” Staring at Griff with cold, sharkish eyes, Blake said, “You won’t see breakfast.”

The ward dropped. Mitch Jacobs, Corin’s brother, stepped into view, and sizzling blue energy shot from his sword.

Griffin. Griffin, please.

Valeria’s voice knifed through the fog in Griff’s head.
Wake up. Wake up, and tell us where you are. Griffin!

He struggled to focus.
I’m awake. Shackled. Duct tape on my mouth—nothing like the tried and true, I guess.

He felt, rather than heard, her gasp as her relief washed over him.
Don’t joke. I felt them blast you. They must’ve had the cell ward down. I ran to the jail, but you were gone. Where’s ‘here’? What happened?

Blake offered me a suck-ass deal. I refused. Now I’m in a van. On the floor. That reeve from the other night, Parker, two mages I don’t know, blond man, sandy-haired woman.

He would pound them all to fucking paste, then do the same to Blake. He’d damned well had it with being knocked around. Being shackled. Having his life generally screwed with.
Shit, I smell ghoul.

Her chilled reaction rippled through the bond.
Can you tell where you are? Where you’re headed?

Not yet…wait. We’re stopping. Don’t know where. Whatever happens, know I love you.

I love you, too.
Valeria’s spiking anxiety washed through him. Silent support came with it.

Light shone into the van. Pole lights. Voices in that direction, too. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing. If he could catch them off guard, maybe he’d have a chance.

His captors hauled him out, carted him about ten feet, and dropped him on the ground. He managed not to tense. That shoulder would hurt tomorrow, though. If he lived to see another day.

“You sure you know how to do this?” someone behind him asked.

Griff opened his eyes to slits but didn’t see anyone. The buildings around him looked familiar, but the angles seemed strange, the perspective…because he’d never seen it from inside. Now he recognized the ghoul nest near Vidalia.

“No mage has been drained in three hundred years, and never less than fatally,” Parker’s voice said, “but we’ll have a go. What the hell—we kill him, one less for you to worry about.”

Fuck that.
Valeria, ghoul compound outside Vidalia.

Coming as soon as we can get a chopper. I sent Stefan after Gene.

Through the bond, he sensed her reaching for a phone, felt her gratitude for his worried friends gathered around her, all in combat gear. They’d come as soon as they could.

Meanwhile, he locked the bond down tight. If this went bad, he didn’t want her feeling it. Besides, there was always a chance his captors might screw it up, give him a way to break free.

He tested his shackles. No give.
Hell.

Valeria’s tension, her fear and haste, teased his mind even with their bond locked down. She couldn’t arrive in time to help, though. No way. Live or die, he was on his own.

He opened his eyes. His mage captors stood over him in a ring of ghouls.

Bastards.

“Hey, cutie.” The mage woman set a small, wooden chest on the ground a few feet from him. With a tip-tilted nose, bow mouth, and sandy curls, she might’ve been attractive if she hadn’t been in league with the enemy.

“Hope you don’t mind an audience,” Parker said.

When Parker bent over Griff’s bound feet, Griff lifted them fast, shot them into the traitor’s gut. Parker landed on his ass, but the other man pinned Griff onto his back.

Swearing, Parker chained Griff’s shackled ankles to a wooden stake. It set up a tooth-grinding hum in the base of his spine, in the root chakra, the energy center that connected his power to the Earth, to nature. He couldn’t feel the life forces around him anymore.

To cut him off that way, the stake had to come from a tree of power but with the wood dead, killed in some vile way.

They pounded another stake into the ground above his head, and pain lanced into the top of his skull. Tasting ammonia, he fought the pain. The stress was probably hiking his blood venom level up. He hadn’t recharged in three days.

Now they’d disrupted the second crown chakra, his connection to the larger universe and the dimension where magic lay. Blocking those two energy centers effectively crippled him.

Shit.
He forced his breathing to settle. Tried to think. He needed only a tiny break. Then they were all dead.

“Be sure you don’t damage him.” An older male ghoul spoke from behind the woman. He looked to be in his sixties, far older than most ghouls lived to be.

Weird, but Griff had bigger problems.

The ghoul continued, “Our deal was for breeding stock. Even if you have to stop short of draining him, we want him functional. We can always leech his energy periodically, as we do with other mage breeders, to keep him in line.”

“Nope,” Parker replied. “We got orders to see he can’t ever be a threat again.”

No way in hell he would breed for the ghouls. He’d kill himself first. He tried putting a tendril of power into the shackles. Nothing.

The woman smirked down at him. “The Dares have bred powerful mages for seven hundred years. He’s functional.”

Just let him get loose for a second. He’d show her how functional he was by kicking her ass into Canada.

“See that he stays that way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Parker said. “You remember we get the first whelp he sires. Sue, get on with it.”

The traitors were swapping mages for babies? Why?

The woman opened the chest while the men tied down Griff’s bound arms. She pulled a green, cantaloupe-size orb—crystal, by the way it glinted in the light—from the chest.

“Parker.” She tossed it to him.

Holding the orb, he stood at Griff’s left shoulder.

She handed a magenta one to the other man. As he walked to Griff’s right shoulder, she took position at Griff’s head. She held an indigo orb directly over his brow, over the chakra they called the third eye, the seat of his magic.

Oh, hell no.

The three built power in the orbs. It crackled between the spheres, echoed in Griff’s body. He gritted his teeth, straining against the bonds. The traitors had pinned him well.

The spheres floated out of the mages’ hands. Each rotated, gaining speed, until suddenly they whirled around as a group, like planets orbiting above Griff’s head. Power flashed into the center of their circle, crashed into a rainbow.

The brilliant light stabbed into Griff’s forehead like a rainbow lance. He cried out in agony behind the gag. Blind and deaf, he arched, thrashed, but couldn’t escape it.

Burning pain ripped through his head, then spiked down to his heels. Along the way, it seared his skin as though peeling it from his bones.

It dug hot, sharp talons into his head and yanked. His blood ignited, then rushed to his head. Griff screamed.

Valeria!

Everything inside him twisted in a violent wrench, and then the world went black.