My stomach was filled with squirming snakes, and I regretted judging Roger for his anxiety shit in my bathroom.
The portal swirled and solidified, looking like a vortex of water, ice and electricity. Despite the whirling, it was completely silent.
The portal master’s gaze held no sympathy as I stared at her with wide eyes.
“Please take a deep breath before you enter,” she advised.
Roger chuckled nervously. “Yes, yes, here we are!” He lifted a foot over the edge, placed it into the blue gyre, and stepped in. He disappeared.
Then it was my turn. I thought about the ticking clock. I wondered if I could successfully make a run for it. Maybe I could change my name and move to another country without detection.
A huge hand landed on my back and pushed.
I flew forward, straight into the portal. I hadn’t even had the chance to scream or take a breath before darkness swallowed me. Living near the beach, I’d been tumbled by my fair share of waves. Sometimes it takes seconds for the churning water to let you go. Other times, minutes. The panic comes from zero air, the complete lack of control, and not knowing where the surface is.
That’s what the inside of this portal felt like, except marginally worse. For all I knew, there was no end or surface. For all I knew, there was no way out.
My lungs burned. The portal was made of pressure and heat and cold as it shattered me through time and space.
Light exploded into my vision. The pressure vanished, and my face smacked against the cold, hard floor.
I took a huge, gasping breath and groaned. I guessed by the gorgeous marble floors that we’d arrived at the correct location.
Roger nudged me with the toe of his crumbling leather shoe. “Time to go, time to go, yes, yes. Up you are.”
Gritting my teeth, I got to my feet. We were in the middle of the California State Council Chambers. The lobby was huge and glittering with more white marble and silver accents. It was imperious and impersonal.
Roger grabbed me by the arm and hauled me after him.
“What are the charges, Roger? What is my defense?” I asked.
“No, no! No time!”
“I’m fucked, aren’t I?”
“Oh no, dear, that language — don’t use it. Not here.”
We passed through a security scanner without a blip, and then headed toward large, carved wooden doors. His damp fingers still clutching my bicep, Roger clasped the silver handle and yanked the heavy door open.
My mouth went completely dry as we entered the Grand Chambers.
There was a tunnel much like the ones an American football team use to run out onto the field. We emerged onto a circular floor, edged by a wall that rose to my shoulders. Up on the platform and spread out evenly, were the nine Council members.
Roger slammed his briefcase on the defendant’s table so hard, I flinched.
Parked at the table on the other side of us was Mr. Creed and his defense team of what looked like two shifters, if their huge frames were any indication.
But I was more concerned about the nine scary fucks who loomed over me. The Council members didn’t look down at any of us.
Not for the first time in my life, I thought of how strange it was that these were immortal people, likely all over 900 years old. And they only looked a decade or so older than I did. If they ever passed two thousand, they might begin to look a little like a middle-aged human.
But never quite the same. You’d never mistake an ancient for a human, that’s for sure.
From the left were three vampires, in the middle were three shifters, and at the right were three witches. They all wore the same ceremonial black robes of the supernatural judges, and the only thing that distinguished them were crests on their right shoulders.
A red hand for the vampires, a symbol that represented their strength and control. A golden eye for the shifters, which referenced their dual natures. Finally, a blue crescent moon for the witches to signify their loyalty to the earth and cosmos.
Witches and warlocks didn’t have preternatural strength or senses like the vamps and shifters did. Though if they wanted to, they could draw runes on themselves or drink a particular potion for a temporary boost.
However, I was fairly positive the entire city could hear my thundering heartbeat and smell the reek of my fear.
I twisted my hands, unsure what to do. So I blurted, “Hi?”
Nine disapproving pairs of eyes slid down, cutting through me like knives through room-temperature butter.
The hairs on my arms and neck stood at attention. My breathing became rapid. Meeting their gazes was like peering into eternity. Something about the depth of their eyes and stillness of their bodies was just so very…
Unnatural. Terrifying. Like stealing a glimpse of a god.
I smiled tightly, suppressed my urge to dry heave, and darted my eyes to my feet.
Distraction. I need a distraction.
Leaning over Roger’s shoulder, I tried to peek at the notes, but they were so scribbled and scrambled, I couldn’t make out the words.
“Did you even go to school?”
Roger made a snotty, snuffling noise that was definitely congestion. “Course, course I did.”
I raised a brow. That was debatable, as was my chances of being found guilty. For what? Who could say.
Jittery but unable to do anything about it, I examined my opposition. Mr. Creed was one of them, and the tall, buff shifter in a russet suit who was likely his lawyer. If the briefcase meant anything.
But the other man? Who was he? He looked too casual and elite for a lawyer. Even though he faced away, I could tell just by the cut of his suit and the lazy, arrogant tilt of his head that this dude was dangerous and powerful.
Mr. Creed looked to the strange man and said something to him. I suppressed a gasp as he turned and leaned against the table, revealing his face for the first time.
7
I don’t usually react to handsome men. This supernatural world was stuffed with gorgeous immortals made with ten times the allure of buttercream frosting.
Holy testosterone, this man was a masterpiece. Warm, honey-hued eyes that looked like gemstones regarded the room with blatant calculation. Where the lawyer was tense and looking ready for a fight, this man looked bored. Unimpressed.
What kind of person was nonchalant about the Council? Maybe he was an advisor for the state, or something like that.
He had tan, smooth skin. His jaw was strong and cut sharp. There was a lot of three-piece suit action happening, and that haircut was definitely more expensive than my rent. How did he make it look long and messy, but refined at the same time?
A cross between Thor and Superman, I’d say. Carried himself like it, too.
I frowned.
He was also familiar.
Where had I seen this man before?
He leaned in and whispered something to Mr. Creed. That suit jacket pulled just the right amount over his biceps. Gods, his eyes smoldered like fire crackling through gold.
But as his full lips moved, his gaze locked with mine.
Like a deer in headlights, I froze. Neither of us blinked. Even his lips had gone still. As we connected, the air became thick with danger. Tension.
I wanted to pull away. Hell, I needed to.
When he looked at me, I understood I was the prey, and there was no escaping him once he set out to take you. I reacted like the dumb, trapped animal I was.
It felt like a lifetime, when I was sure it was only a few seconds. Only until the mysterious man cut his attention back to Mr. Creed was I released from his spell.