Page 120 of Made

The planes of his face became pronounced as his bone structure took on hard edges. His iris color changed to black, and his canines extended so that they were almost as long and scary as the sephalian’s. No one knows where thoughts originate. But the sight of the changed sylph brought one word to mind.Vampire.

I brushed that random idea aside because there were more pressing matters at hand.

Darius demonstrated that his suit was bogus when he let his temper get the best of him and flew at Keir. Perhaps he’d forgotten that he’d brought a suit based on a disability that was mostly fiction. Before making contact with Keir, the enforcer morphed into a winged lion.

I’d only seen the transformation a few times, but was still just as amazed by the sight of a lightning-fast makeover. It was sincerely awesome, according to the original meaning of the word.

The sylph’s fangs, however impressive they might’ve been, had no chance of ever touching the sephalian. The storied winged lion stood on his hind legs, caught the sylph mid-air and threw him to the ground hard enough to crack the mosaic floor. Darius, whose face had lost its vampiric traits, was stunned, but not dead. Good. That meant the court’s enforcer had done his job. Brilliantly.

While still in lion form, Keir put his huge jaws around the sylph’s head and began dragging him effortlessly. He slowly walked the length of the long center aisle to the massive double doors at the castle entrance pulling his prize like a demonstration of what happens to people who... People who what? Cast a nasty look at the judge?

Uh-oh.

Was this an indication that the enforcer can’t be objective so long as his wife is the one sitting at the magistrate’s bench?

Hengest’s guards opened the big doors on approach. Keir dragged the limp form a few yards away and dumped him unceremoniously. He then resumed his biped form, smiled at the guards then walked back to his station amid rousing applause from spectators.

It was uncertain why they were applauding. It might’ve been to show approval for the way the event was handled. It might’ve been because of the entertainment factor. After all, wasn’t that why every court was full to standing room only? People came hoping to be entertained. That hadn’t really sunk in before. I supposed I thought they came out of curiosity or a sense of civic duty. It’s a mystery why the latter came to mind because I’d be hard pressed to find a fae who could give me a working definition of “civic duty”.

The sephalian reclaimed his seat on my left. I stared until he had no choice but to look my way. When he finally turnedand met my gaze, he couldn’t help a triumphant grin. Perhaps it was juvenile. Perhaps it was at the core of masculinity. Perhaps his response had been unwarranted. Perhaps it was justified. But one thing was a fact. The courtroom was filled with people still giving him a standing ovation.

Good grief.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Nine-Tailed Fox

The next case bore a similarity to the sylph case in the sense that it involved a seduction that may have been technically consensual, but on closer examination raised the specter of magical manipulation. “Manipulation” was one of the words that stood out in the Bureau’s mission statement. The Bureau doesn’t just frown upon magic kind using their gifts or skills to manipulate each other. BOBO abhors the practice and, in a perfect world, would like to see it stamped out.

I’d heard several cases that morning before the sylph came before me. I then had a lobster roll lunch, a bathroom break, and was preparing for a long afternoon with an ice-cold twenty-ounce Red Bull hidden in an EaglesHell Freezes Overkoozie. In my experience, after-lunch drowsiness can’t compete.

Once I was settled in, Hengest called the parties forward in his usual clear, authoritative voice. “House of Howland Horne Lady in Waiting, Drexella Hogsworth versus Nine-Tail Fox, Kang Wei Zhao.”

It appeared that Braes Brightgen would represent the “fox” while Blythe Merriwether stood at the plaintiff’s table beside Drexella Hogsworth. Braes Brightgen had first appeared in my court to speak for a fae farmer who’d directed his magic geese to circle his neighbor’s farm every night at dinnertime and honk loud enough to make a peaceful meal impossible. It had been one of those cases that appeared to be a “no-brainer” at first glance, but was counterintuitive. The facts, once presented, led to the opposite conclusion.

I’d been impressed enough with the way the gregarious Scot had conducted himself on his first court outing that I recalled important aspects of the case. His enthusiasm didn’t seem to have waned in the least in the months since I’d last seen him.

“Counselor Merriwether,” I said.

She stood and replied. “Yes, Magistrate.”

“It’s nice to see you. You’re here on behalf of the plaintiff.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

She was the vision of a young, Victoria professional. Or she would’ve been if there had been such a thing as a young professional woman in the Victorian era. At that time, the only woman holding a position of power of influence was the queen herself.

Blythe Merriwether looked prim and proper in her white starched blouse with exaggerated collar. A large, eye-catching brooch resplendent with rubies was fastened at her neck. Her floor-length navy skirts accentuated her tiny waist and struck just the right amount of contrast with the highly polished flat-heeled boots she wore underneath. But by far, her most outstanding feature was the unmistakable look of intelligence shining through eyes so black her pupils disappeared into the darkness.

“According to my tradition, I’ll ask you to speak first. Spell out the facts of the case from your client’s point of view and name your remedy for damages.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. “A little over a year ago, my client had gone to the countryside for the annual blackberry gathering festival. “She met Kang Wei Zhao when he appeared to her in a forest clearing. What followed was a romantic encounter that resulted in pregnancy and, in due time, the birth of adaughter who looks remarkably like the defendant. She’s suing for joint custody.”

Joint custody?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m a little confused. Does the defendant have custody of the child now?”

“No, Your Honor,” said Ms. Merriwether. “My client is suing to compel the defendant to accept joint custody.”

“I see,” I said, although I didn’t. At least not at that time. “Thank you, Counselor. You may sit.” I turned to the defendant’s table. “Counselor Brightgen.”

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