Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

50

"I was...I mean, we were..." Becca stuttered, floundering for a credible reason for having accompanied us to the cemetery that day.

"You were what, Ms Stone? Meddling in coven business? I understood that shifters were ordered to keep out of the disputes of other races. That is what secures your lucrative contract with the DPA, is it not?"

"Well, yes, but Lucas..."

"Was Lucas your Alpha? Is he now?"

"No, but..."

"No buts Ms Stone, only a direct order from your Alpha could have excused your meddling with the coven politics," Edward said, leaning back in his chair having made his point.

"But they were torturing my Alpha. They killed him," Becca said, the acid spikes of desperation punctuating her usually unassailable confidence.

"You were unaware of that when you made the decision to accompany Alice Gray that day. There is no reason for you to have followed her. No reason other than your desire for her life-force."

"What," I whispered at the same time that Becca shrieked the word.

"I would like to put it to the court, that you accompanied Alice Gray and her companions to the cemetery because you had fallen victim to the distinctive magic that is characterised by her silver life-force."

"But shifters don't crave her magic like that."

"How do you know that she didn't tweak its potency? We've all heard of what she can do. An untrained intuitive witch of her power? The possibilities are limitless."

"No. She's not like that. She didn't even want me to go with them."

"That is what she wanted you to think. In reality, she had intended you for sacrifice from the outset," Edward Turner said, swivelling his eyes round to me.

I couldn't stop the gasp from escaping when I saw the malice in his gaze. That wasn't the worse thing. His syphilis-ravaged face was twisted into an expression that I'd seen in vampires before.

Madness.

The glint of insanity in eyes so old that they were convinced of their right to immortality even though they could feel their power failing. It was the exact same look I'd got from the Baroness before I had plunged her own knife into her heart.

What Edward was insinuating about my power was conceivable, but not true. When I lost control, my silver life-force multiplied. It built a web of my own sequence which warped any foreign magical essence in its path, bringing the owner of the magic under my sway.

Other magical creatures craved the power without understanding the consequences. It may sound fun to have endless minions willing to do your bidding, but it wasn't as easy as that.

The silver magic called to every life-force. There was no discrimination, and I hadn't found a way to control it properly in the weeks since the magic had roared to life inside me. But I knew when it was wrapped up safely around my insides, like it was right now. And that is where it had been when Becca decided to tag along to the cemetery with us that day.

The greed in Edward Turner's eyes, now that was something different. That was the desperation of somebody who had lost, or was fast losing their power. Someone who would do anything to get more. Anything like sentencing me to the life of a lab rat in captivity. Vivisecting me like the vamps were currently doing to my father, Jonathan.

Becca was dismissed but my eyes stayed glued to the vampire magistrate's craggy face. The dull throbs of his dead energy reached me in fits and starts reminding me of his waning life, warning me of his motivation to have me trapped in the DPA's clutches.

Of course my advocate didn't cross-examine Becca. Brad had no interest in contradicting the conclusions that Edward had drawn. After all, how would he provoke Azazel into showing his hand if I was vindicated?

It was only when Emily called the next witness that my attention tuned back into the court's proceedings.

Footsteps sounded from the entrance to the Minster behind us. The familiar clip of his favourite brogues created a fizzle of anticipation in my blood that travelled all through my body until I could hardly sit still in my chair. Dark well-tailored suit, crisp white shirt, those black shoes that he loved so much, I couldn't take my eyes off the one-time love of my life.

Stephen's bright blue eyes darted to me as he took the makeshift stand. His pale-skin was sallow and I could tell by the way that his dark brown hair flopped over his forehead that he'd run his hands through it repeatedly. Relief washed through me when a tiny smile pulled up the side of his mouth.

Stephen had been so angry with me after the cemetery. He blamed me for his Aunt Mary's death. He couldn't accept that his last living relative was a twisted murderous maniac working hand-in-hand with an evil and conniving vampire.

And who could blame him, she came in such a harmless package.

But can Stephen really have forgiven Alice? The last thing she needs is another vindictive ex!