“It’s important you understand,” I argue. “Your laws are based on justice tempered with mercy. Isn’t that what you said? How can you determine what is right if you do not have all the facts?”
There is a rustling from above; faceless forms lean in toward one another as the tribunal confers. No sound reaches us except the continual rasping of the jaws. I tap my foot nervously awaiting their decision. If they refuse to allow me to continue, this will be the shortest trial in history. I look around for an escape route. A stupid thing to do since I have no fucking clue where we are.
Finally, the Elder raises his hand as if signaling the end of the discussion, the others resume their positions, and the grating voice issues his edict. “Speak. Whether or not we will take what you say into consideration at the time of judgment is undecided. But you have the right to proceed.”
A subtle but irritated sigh escapes Samual’s lips as he sits back down.
I refocus. “I next met Belinda Burke when she set up a cosmetics firm offering an anti-aging cream that promised miraculous results. The miracle was attributed to a key ingredient—vampire blood. Harvested from young, newly turned vampires bled like slaughtered cattle. When she found out that I was on to her, she cast a spell that once more put my friend Culebra in mortal danger. To save him, I enlisted the help of her sister. We managed to reverse the spell and send the curse back into her. That the curse was powerful was proven by the extent of her injuries. She sought refuge here to recover.”
I draw a breath. Now comes the tricky part. “I followed her to this place. When I confronted her, she vowed to come after me, my family, her sister, all who had worked against her. I couldn’t let that happen. It was then I did what I knew I had to. I killed her.”
NINE
SAMUAL IS ON HIS FEET THE MOMENT MY voice runs down.
“You admit it. You killed both Belinda Burke and her bodyguard.”
“I had to.”
“But there’s more, isn’t there?” he asks. “How did you determine how to find Belinda Burke?”
I turn to face him. “Her sister told me.”
“What else did her sister tell you?”
“Not that this place offered sanctuary, if that’s what you’re asking. I knew nothing of that.”
“But she did tell you that her sister’s wounds were serious, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, didn’t she tell you her sister was no threat to you? That it would be months, maybe years, before she would be well enough to return to your dimension?” He raises his face to the Elder. “Belinda Burke spoke to me when she first arrived. Warned me to be on the lookout for a vampire out for revenge—a vampire who was in league with her own sister.”
I’m tempted to ask why he didn’t take her warning seriously. The only reason I don’t is my reluctance to focus any more attention on the witches who got me here the first time. I have a feeling Samual will want to pursue that after he rids himself of me—or tries to.
Instead, I look to see how this is affecting Stephen. He face reflects a little surprise, a little confusion. He’s been hit with a lot. The fact I’m a vampire, the fact I killed a grievously wounded witch. I can only hope he knows the damage a black-magic witch can inflict and why I felt I had to do it.
But Samual isn’t through with me yet. My skin crawls at the smug look on his face. How could he know that Sophie had told me how serious Burke’s injuries were? Does he also know that she had begged me not to go after her sister?
Samual barks out the question again. “Did she or did she not tell you it would be months, maybe years, before Burke would be strong enough to be a threat to you or anyone?”
“Yes. She told me.”
“And you came after her anyway. Why? Because you knew in her weakened state she would be an easy target? Do you always prey on the weak, Anna Strong? Oh. Wait. You are a vampire. Of course you do.”
Anger ignites in my blood like flame in dry tinder. “I protect the weak. On Earth, I am called the Chosen One. If you have any knowledge at all of what that means, you know I’ve made it my mission to defend the mortal world from evil.”
“So this was an anomaly? Just this once you plunged a blade into a defenseless old woman’s chest and held it there until the last beat of her heart?”
I swallow down a quick, heated retort, knowing what I say next may make the difference in the outcome of this “trial.” When my blood has cooled a little, I reply.
“Belinda Burke was capable of unimaginable evil. She killed indiscriminately. Even her sister feared her power. I knew when she recovered she would wreak her vengeance on all who crossed her. I have a family to protect and friends. She had already proven she could get to anyone close to me. I couldn’t take the chance she’d slip back without my knowing. I couldn’t risk losing anyone I loved.”
I pause, sucking in a breath. “When I first arrived at this place, I battled her bodyguard. You know I have no vampiric powers here. I fought him mortal to mortal and won. Even then, Burke showed no remorse. Neither did she ask for mercy. Instead, she vowed to come after me and all I knew, including her sister, and to kill every one of us. She used the fact that she was bedridden to taunt me. She believed I wouldn’t harm her because
I press fingers against my eyes. “I took no joy in killing her. But there was a greater good to consider. There is always a greater good. I think you may have forgotten that. Some creatures do not deserve sanctuary.”
Samual is on his feet again, outraged. “And you are the one to make that determination? You, who have been on Earth a mere thirty years? What do you know of good and evil? Are the lines so clearly drawn in your world?”
“Of course not.” I drop my hands and face him. “My existence is an example of how blurred the lines can get. I am vampire. I should be a predator, existing merely to feed on the mortals beneath me. And yet, I have been given the gift of choice. I choose to live as a mortal. To be a friend. But I see evil everyday. I battle it as I can. I have a duty to perform and I take it seriously.”
“As do we,” the Elder interrupts, motioning with a robed hand. “We will adjourn for the present. There is much we need to consider before proceeding. We will summon you when we are ready to reconvene. The prisoners may take their rest.”
And so fast it roils my stomach, Stephen and I find ourselves in a space that looks like the dining room in a wellappointed hotel suite. There is a table set with a meal that has to be for Stephen and a wineglass filled with what looks suspiciously like blood.
Stephen picks up the wineglass gingerly and hands it to me. “This has got to be yours,” he says dryly.
TEN
STEPHEN AND I TAKE SEATS AT THE TABLE. IT’S set with china and silver and a bowl of flowers as a centerpiece.
Nice touch, that. Very civilized.
I watch Stephen dig into his meal—steak, a baked potato, a green salad. He eats with gusto. “Glad to see our little predicament hasn’t affected your appetite.”
He grins. “Isn’t a condemned man always given a last meal?” He motions to the wineglass, sitting untouched on the table. “What about you? Aren’t you hungry?”
I nudge it away. “No. I ate before I left.” A lie. But the idea of downing a glass of blood in front of him makes me uneasy. It can’t be a pleasant sight for the uninitiated. And who knows what kind of blood is in that glass? Or where it came from.
Stephen pauses, his knife and fork suspended. “What do you think they’re
