Chapter 754: His Sister's Trial
So weird, this image of me reflected back from the mirror. Three days ago, I'd worn white. Smiled, laughed, danced. Married a sweet, caring man who loved me with all his heart and never once asked anything of me but to be my husband.
To be my life.
And I said yes. I do. Accepted all he had to offer.
Selfish. Heartless. Put him in the line of fire.
And now, I sat in the same spot, with the same dazed look on my face. Only this dress was black.
I'd felt like an angel the day of my wedding.
I understood now, I had been.
Of death.
Three nights since I first wore his wedding ring. One since he died. And tonight, I readied to send my husband to his funeral pyre.
I smelled smoke on me already, but not some evil anticipation rising, no. This scent was real. I'd just been to another burning, hadn't I? Fate, the bitch, made sure Liam's funeral happened the same day they sent Mia to the stake.
It was still a struggle to know how to feel about other people. The numbness I'd almost allowed to carry me away in the Sidhe cavern offered continual comfort, taking the sharpness from my emotions and, for now, I permitted such intrusion, such softening of my terrible pain.
And my egos, they agreed with me, still and dull themselves, resting, sleeping, burying themselves in the dark quiet numbness offered. I could still sense them there, knew I wasn't alone. They would never allow me to feel abandoned, not now. But their grief was almost as comforting as the numb, knowing how much they missed Liam, Shaylee most of all.
Just as much as I did.
Mom hadn't wanted to tell me about Mia's trial. I only found out thanks to Charlotte who stormed into my room that very morning, fury on her face as Shenka and Mom tried to hold her back.
"You have to go," Charlotte said.
It was hard to raise my head, to feel interest, but her anger brought me back to a place where I could nod and listen and not be hollow.
"There are certain things you must see through to the end," my werefriend said, taking my hand, pulling me to my feet. "He would want you to be there when Mia dies."
He?
Oh.
My dead husband, Liam.
That was how I thought of him, privately. My dead husband, Liam. Couldn't shake it from my mind, the phrase trailing after me, poking me with a stick, don't forget. Always remember.
My dead husband, Liam.
Charlotte's hands grasped my arms, shook me a little. "Mia needs you," she said. "And you need to be there."
"Of course," I said, coughing to clear my throat. My dead husband, "Liam would want me to go."
The despair on Mom's face flashed only for a moment as I turned to her. "Why are they killing her today?" As in, why are you wearing that blouse? I like it, but it's a bit much, don't you think?
Sydlynn, my vampire sent. It's time to rise.
My demon grumbled. Not yet, she sent. Let the girl burn. She betrayed us, didn't she?
She was betrayed long before we met her, Shaylee sent, soft, with more caring than I could muster. And she was our friend.
Awareness, acceptance. I pulled away from the numb and smiled at Charlotte, just a little. Kissed my mother's cheek.
"I'm coming," I said. "Mia may have done horrible things, but she deserved to be loved. Even now, in the end."
Mom nodded, heavy and slow, hugged me. I pulled away quickly with a gasp of air.
Couldn't let her hold me for long. Her touch drove the numb away, made everything real again.
My dead husband, Liam.
I dressed in witch clothes, a midnight blue velvet skirt and pale blue silk blouse Shenka laid out for me. Left my hair down, face without makeup. Only the pentagram necklace around my neck.
And my rings, still on my left hand.
Two Enforcers came to fetch me and I allowed them to carry me, rather than going into the veil. Part of me dreaded it, the touch of the rubbery membrane, Ahbi's sorrow, the memories surfacing into spikes of flaming agony-
I knew neither of the Enforcers, thanked Mom for that in silence as I took a seat at the back of the Council hall. Shenka sat beside me, thigh against mine, hand reaching out to grasp my fingers in a gentle grip.
Looked down at my rings. Turned the bands. A flake of blood fell from the setting of the diamond, settling on my skirt.
Liam's.
The urge to pull away from the world was so powerful, my vision swimming with moisture, I could barely stand it. Liam's blood. On me still.
On my hands.
Until Shenka spoke, soft and private, in my ear, bringing me back again.
"They've fast-tracked Mia's trial," she said. Ah. The trial. Yes. Perfect. Talk about anything but...
My dead husband, Liam.
My left hand stroked over the velvet of my skirt, brushing the flake and the memory away even as a flare of demon fire cleaned the diamond to bright sparkle.
Diamonds reminded me of the drach. Of Max. Fate. Betrayal.
"Miriam tried to slow the proceedings, but the Council insisted." I clung to Shenka's fingers, my anchor to here and now. Hers tightened a little in response. "They've grown bolder and less willing to hesitate since the attack on the stronghold and the passing of conclave."
At least something good came of it.
And yet. Mia was going to burn today while they'd allowed Ameline months and months.
I couldn't think of her, either. Of her need for love, her twisted, damaged, ugly need for me to join her, to be like her.
Not yet.
"You probably know the Enforcers found Mia in the same cell where they held you captive, under guard of the drach."
Max.
No.
No thinking.
Later with the thinking. And the plotting revenge.
Shenka hissed. I looked down at her fingers, pressed tightly together, eased my grip. She didn't pull away, just kept going.
"Evidence was presented last night," Shenka said as the room filled with witches. I kept my eyes on the floor, though I could feel the pressure of their gathered magic, their sympathy. Layered more and more shielding over myself.
Almost welcomed the numb so I didn't have to feel at all.
"This morning is sentencing," Shenka said as the gathered witches rose as one, me slow beside my second, as the Council entered, took their seats. "There's little doubt what they will pronounce."
I finally looked up, met Mom's eyes across the room. She looked away first as her nasty little secretary unfurled a scroll, his words writing in the air next to him as he spoke.
"And so does the sentencing of Mia Rachelle Dumont commence."
Someone snickered, clear in the following quiet. I turned my head, saw Jean Marc and Kristophe staring at me.
Laughing and whispering.
Looked away.
Let them have their childish fun.
My dead husband, Liam, would have been pissed, though.
They led her in, then, my old friend, between two Enforcers, her emaciated body draped in a thin, white gown. I'd worn one just like it, the memory of the feeling of it sharp and crisp, as though I still had it on. Reached up and touched the sleeve of my blouse just to check.
So. Real.
And so unreal. Mia looked around her, beaming smile and icy blue eyes full of happiness. Excitement. She clapped her hands as the two Enforcers left her in the middle of the central podium.
"For me?" She said, twirling to look at all the witches watching. "I've always wanted a surprise party."
Gone, she was gone, and I'd done it to her, hadn't I? My maji power erased her memory, gave her a childhood she'd never known, innocence she'd never been allowed.
And yet, here we were. About to kill her anyway.
"Mia Dumont," Mom said. "You stand accused of joining forces with the Brotherhood, giving over knowledge and power to them, betraying all witches, all magic races in your attempt to steal the power of the Dumont family coven."
Mia wasn't looking at Mom. She hummed softly to herself, twirling side to side with her robe in her hands, flaring the bottom out over her feet.
Sweet.
Sad.
How could I bear it?
Mom's sigh was visible, audible as she looked up and down the line of witches on the Council.
"We're certain?"
Immobile as mountains, those angry faces. And those of the watchers. They hated her, it was clear to me, didn't care she had no choices, no hope, no life beyond the lie she lived for her first eighteen years. The pain and suffering she endured in that time and the years after. The broken soul she tried so hard to mend.
Mom met my eyes again. And spoke.
"Mia Dumont," Mom said, voice heavy with regret, "for the crimes you have been proven guilty of, this Council sentences you to burn at the stake until you are dead, your bones crushed and scattered so never again can your echo be called, nor your magic added to the rolls of your family coven."
Mia looked up, then. Smiled at Mom. "You're so pretty," she said.
They led her away while Shenka held my shaking hand. I stood, freed myself of my second's grip, pushed through the crowd of staring, whispering witches. Hopped over the last row of chairs with a boost of power.
And went after Mia.
Not one soul tried to stop me.
I found her in a small, white room just outside the Council door, the same two Enforcers guarding her. They didn't comment, stepped aside to let me through. I had no idea what I intended to accomplish going to see her.
I only knew I had to.
Mia looked up from where she sat on the edge of the small wooden cot pushed into the far corner of the room. Her smile lit the spare, terrible space with its joy as she stood and came to me.
Hugged me.
Kissed my cheek.
And frowned in concern, murmuring comfort to me as I began to weep.
Mia led me to her bed, sat me next to her. Cradled me against her while she rocked me gently and stroked my hair.
"There, there, sweet girl," she said. "Everything's going to be all right."
I pulled away, met her eyes, lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "Will it?" The numb tried to take me, and I wanted it to so much. But Mia's soft, steady gaze, her sweet smile, the way she stroked my hair back from my cheek before gently patting my hand, made me want to stay.
With her. For a while.
"Did you know," Mia said, giggling softly, "I think one of my bodyguards really likes me." She rolled her eyes, batted her lashes. "He's cute. Maybe he'll ask me out when the party is over."
"Maybe." I snuffled, wiped my nose on the corner of my skirt. "Mia, do you remember me?"
"Of course I do, silly." She gave me a gentle push. Then frowned a little. "I do know you, don't I? From somewhere?"
My head felt like it held up the weight of the world as I nodded. "I'm Syd," I whispered.
She laughed. "Syd." Hugged me. "Of course you are."
Choke.
Unbearable, this final heartache.
And then the door opened, and Quaid stood there.
I was wrong. There was so much more pain to come.
Mia clapped her hands, motioned for him to join us. Winked at me so broadly I realized this was the Enforcer she'd been talking about. She'd forgotten her own brother.
I sometimes joked I was going to hell.
This time, I really believed it.
He took her hand, helped her to her feet. Mia kissed his cheek with a girlish giggle before sinking back to the bed and pressing her face into my shoulder, blushing. I watched Quaid's face crumple in sorrow, able to understand the depth of his loss.
Reached for his hand. Took it in mine when he accepted.
Shared his loneliness as his sister smiled at both of us.
"Maybe I'm wrong," she whispered to me. "Maybe it's you he loves."
Quaid dropped my hand, looked away as I forced a smile, surely the barest of expressions, and hugged her.
"Maybe," I whispered back. "But I don't think so."
Quaid's shoulders slumped when the door creaked and one of the guards entered.
"They are ready," the Enforcer said.
I wasn't. Not now, not yet. Not ever.
Mia stood, spun in a circle before reaching out her arms to the waiting Enforcer.
"It's going to be the grandest party ever," she said. Hooked her arm through his.
And followed him out into the courtyard on the other side.
I stayed where I was, unable to stand, legs powerless beneath me, though my tears were dried, my ability to cry gone, washed away with her departure.
Quaid sat next to me, fingers laced, elbows on his knees.
When he offered his hand, it was my turn to accept. We sat there for a long time while the courtyard filled, the sound of voices carrying into the small room, until I couldn't bear to listen.
He rose as though to some silent call to action, me beside him. Walked out into the sunshine, still holding my hand.
We stood, side by side, as Mia was tied to the stake in the center of the platform, smiling, waving until her hands were bound at the gathered witches come to watch her die. When the Enforcers stepped back, she met my eyes, a single tear trickling down her face.
Was her awareness returning?
No. Not now. I couldn't let her suffer ever again.
My maji power reached for her, soothed her. Sang a song of peace and love to her, a song I thought I'd forgotten. Her smile returned just as her head sagged to one side and Mia fell into slumber.
And no one, though they turned to stare, called me out.
Not even Andre Dumont. He had what he wanted. His scowl told me he didn't approve. I showed him an image of himself burning, saw him flinch away from me.
And had no doubt I'd find a way, one day, to make what I'd shown him reality.
For Mia.
Mom stepped forward, blue flame falling from her hands into the piled kindling. They rose in a roar, in haste, devouring everything so quickly I knew, even without my maji help, Mia would have felt no pain.
I forced myself to watch my friend, the fire devouring her body in a blast of heat. I shielded Quaid from the overwhelming temperature as the rest of the watching witches fell back, so he could stay with his sister until the very end.
It was over quickly, Mom's magic force-feeding the coals into death so, in a matter of minutes, only ash and white bones remained.
Her last act filtered Mia's skeleton from the black and crushed it into dust.
Quaid shuddered, turning his head toward me, face wet with tears.
And then, the most remarkable thing. She rose from the ash, the most beautiful girl, her long, black hair shining in the sunlight, blue eyes bright with joy. No longer a withered mess as she'd gone to her death, the soul of Mia Dumont floated free, egoless, ghostly echo gone with the crushing of her bones.
I knew it was her spirit hovering there. Felt the purity of it, that she was ready.
And waved, smiling and crying as she blew me a kiss before hugging herself. Tipping her head to her brother.
Flashed into a blaze of multi-colored light.
Free.
The witches left, some of them finally feeling remorseful, the Council's power humming low with Mom's regret. She didn't interfere when Quaid stayed behind, let us be when I hugged him, cried with him as much as comforted him.
But when we pulled apart and he reached up to touch my face, I flinched back.
Knew what he was about to say. To offer.
And just couldn't accept.
"I'll be okay," I said. Felt it now, the truth. Thanked Mia for her gift in the end. She knew all along.
Everything was going to be all right.
He let me go, hand sliding from mine as I turned and went to Shenka.
Reached for the veil and home.
I shivered from the memory of Mia's death, returning to the present at last. I dropped my eyes from the sunken-gazed woman in the glass, slid my hands over the stiff, black fabric of my dress.
Flinched at the knock on my door.
Mom came inside, didn't touch me, held her distance.
"It's time," she said.
***
