Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (4 page)

              She gave him a small smile she hoped was convincing. Did she still want to be with Brett? Maybe—yes, she corrected herself. She loved him and she wanted to be with him. She just couldn’t tell him and truth be told, it wasn’t him. It was everything that was going on right now; it was causing her to have so much anxiety that her head was starting to spin. But Brett was her anchor. She needed him. More than ever.

              Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her body to his, relishing his quiet strength even as her mind reeled. He remained stoically against the window sill, stubbornly crossing his arms. She chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips at his silent challenge.  He remained still as her lips caressed his and she loosened his arms to slip between them.                Immediately, his hands held her hips and she smiled against his lips as he started to kiss her back. She shivered when Brett’s hands moved up her body to frame her face; holding her still as he rained kisses over her eyes, nose, and finally back to her mouth. Breathing hard, he leaned his forehead against hers. 

              “I love you,” he whispered. 

              She smiled wistfully, hating herself for her doubts about him and his role in her future and felt the familiar warmth in her chest as his hands continued to roam her body. She wanted him. She needed him. Her hands found the hem of his T-shirt and she started to lift it, only to stop when Brett’s hands stilled hers. 

              “We can’t,” he said when she looked at him questioningly. 

              “What?”

              He smiled at her ruefully. “As much as I really want to right now, we can’t. House full of Weres and all that. Someone is going to hear.”

              Layla nodded. Right. House full of Weres. Although she could give two shits if all the Weres heard them. 

              Brett grabbed her before she could turn away and pressed another series of kisses hard on her lips. “So you don’t forget me,” he joked.

              Before she could reply, she heard her name and then Brett’s on the wind. “Martin wants to see us.” 

              He frowned, kissed her again and unfolded himself from the window, his long legs graceful as he moved across the room. 

              “Be good,” he warned as if sensing the direction her thoughts were taking. “We have to see Martin and you know he has an excellent sense of smell.” He stopped and glanced back at her with a smile. “No use in getting either of us worked up.”

              Nodding, she followed Brett as he walked back into the kitchen. The little area functioned as their meeting room, so it was no surprise that Martin was seated at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand. It was still midmorning and the sun was shining brightly through the curtains.

              She smiled lightly at the older man, her way of an apology for her earlier actions.  He had most likely heard her conversation with her aunt and she wanted to let him know everything was as okay as it was going to be for now. 

              Eyebrow arched, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket before she could sit.

              Layla stared at the simple white missive and looked questioningly at Martin, curiosity getting the best of her. “What is it?”

              He sighed.  “The details are inside, but it is a summons.  I was hoping it would not come to this.”

              Brett frowned. “A summons?  From who?  For what?”

              Martin shook his head grimly and looked from Brett to Layla. “It’s from the Werewolf Council. Layla is to stand trial for the killing of Wattan.”

~*~

Chapter 2

              The chill of the November night blew steadily against Layla’s face as she followed Martin across the deserted parking lot. She was going on trial. For self-defense. Martin had tried to explain to her what to expect, but he had also admitted that he was not too sure what to make of it all. Certainly Suzette had allies in the highest echelons of the Council, but making Layla stand trial for an act that was obviously in defense against attack had been beyond anything he’d ever seen in his years as a Council member. 

              She shuddered to think of what it could mean if she was found guilty. Brett, as a human, was not involved in matters of Were nature, but Layla was subjugated to the rules and regulations of the Council. And that meant to the fullest extent of the law.

              Pulling her jacket tighter around her shivering body, she looked up and pasted a smile on her face as Brett squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath as they neared the door of an older office building; a front for the network of tunnels that ran underneath. Even in a state as flat as Florida, the limestone bed resulted in soft rock, which had allowed the Weres, over eons, to carve out a system of tunnels and hidden rooms for various purposes. 

              The building itself was nondescript. To an outsider, it was just another in a long line of older warehouses that were abandoned or being refurbished. There were no armed guards to hint at the beehive of activity inside, although Layla sensed it was well guarded.

              They opened the door and immediately she noticed the four transformed Weres hidden in the shadows, blending in so well that she was only able to identify them, at first, by smell and a dark blurry outline. They remained completely still as she and the others walked by; only their heads moving, following her group’s every move.               

              Martin led the way through the darkened warehouse to a section in the far corner near the offices. They entered into a seemingly random room and he stopped and then pushed against a section of the brick wall which gave way to a set of stairs. While the building itself was in major need of repairs, the stairwell was quite modern and obviously well used. The stainless steel glinted in the soft glow from a bank of overhead lights. 

              Layla stepped in behind Martin and Brett brought up the rear. They walked down the stairs until they came to a long hallway. Without hesitation, Martin took a left and led the two towards a set of double doors far into the interior. The modern amenities continued.

              The walls were decorated in a dark oak and pictures of past and present Council members adorned the spacious area. A picture of Martin wearing a suit made her smiled and then she stopped short as she noticed a photo of Kuruk, sans scar over his eye. 

              Turning to her, Martin gave a wry smile as he spotted the photo she was viewing. “We have to keep moving. They’re waiting.”

              Nodding, Layla found Brett’s hand again before continuing the trek. 

              The doors loomed in front of them, large and very intimidating. She sensed the other Weres moving about. This would not be easy. They probably wanted to crucify her. After all, she was the daughter of their god, but she had refused to pick a side in their war, until now. Brett kissed her knuckles and she gave him a weak smile.

              Martin pushed open the door and a hush fell over the group already gathered inside. It was almost exactly how she had pictured it. Along the far wall sat a Were she assumed was the leader of the Council. A long, black robe covered his suit and two heavy gold ropes hung around his neck. To her left sat a group of three men and three women, clad nearly the same except their necks only boasted one gold rope, significantly thinner than the ones worn by the leader. 

              She did a double take as she noticed Kuruk staring down at her, a smirk on his face, as he fingered the gold rope around his neck and she swallowed uneasily. He was going to make her pay for Wattan’s death. She wondered if he had already swayed the rest of the Council against her. Not that it mattered. What was going to happen was going to happen. 

              Ignoring him, she continued to peruse the room. To her right sat the galley; Weres of all shapes and sizes squeezed into the chamber, all staring at her as she stood in the entrance with Martin and Brett. 

              “There she is.”

              “It’s her. Mai-coh’s daughter.”

              “She is the one who killed Wattan.”

              Layla closed her eyes against the whispers as her throat seemed to close up. 

              “Relax.” Martin whispered, although she knew every Were in the room could hear.

              The head of the Council looked at Layla and banged the gavel clasped in his hand. The room immediately quieted again. He peered down at her, his attempt at intimidation successful, especially since Weres had excellent eyesight. She held his gaze steadily, refusing to show fear of any kind.               

              Martin motioned Brett to sit behind them as they moved to the front of the room and the other man reluctantly released her hand. She almost reached out to pull him back, but felt the full force of the eyes in the room. Judging her. Daring her to show any weakness.

              “Liwanu,” the head of the Council said, looking at Martin. “Thank you for bringing her.”

              Martin nodded. “Thank you, Acaraho, for allowing me to.” He bowed his head and Layla instinctively followed suit. 

              Acaraho banged his gavel again. “We are here as witnesses to judge the accused, Layla Donovan, in the murder of Wattan Banks. Liwanu, please take a moment to consult with your client. We will reconvene in thirty minutes.”

              Martin nodded again and escorted Layla and Brett from the room as the other members of the Council pointedly ignored her. Kuruk’s chuckle echoed behind her as she walked out on Martin’s heels. They went down the hall to a private conference room; a fraction of the size of the courtroom, containing a few chairs next to a desk and a sofa. 

              Layla sighed and threw herself down onto the sofa, her hands shaking with the magnitude of what she was about to face. Never in her 29 years had she been confronted with something this huge. She had been arrested, framed, attacked, and even kidnapped, but to stand before the Were Council was an act she never wanted to repeat. Brett followed her to the couch, his hand caressing her knee before he leaned forward and brushed her hair back from her face. 

              “Here’s how it works.”  

              Martin walked over to the desk and sat behind it clasping his hands in front of him. He faced Layla. “You will listen to the accusations against you and then you will have an opportunity to tell your story. Any witnesses for you may come forward and speak.” 

              He sighed. “Then you will be questioned. Thoroughly. It is important that you stick to your story and not reach any conjectures. Just say what happened.” 

              She nodded mutely, her stomach in knots.

              Martin looked hard at her before gruffly clearing his throat. “Do not blame anyone for you being here. The Weres will assume you are trying to place blame for your actions on someone else and think of you as weak. Do not accuse or insult anyone on the Council,” he held up a hand as Layla started to object, “and that includes Kuruk. He is up to something, but until we know what it is, it is best not to let him know that he has gotten to us, gotten to you. Play it safe and you will leave here alive. Any questions?”

              “What happens if they don’t believe killing Wattan was in self-defense?” Brett voiced the question that was rattling around in Layla’s head. The one she was afraid to ask.

              Martin sighed wearily. “Then the Council will pass final judgment. We don’t believe in long imprisonment, so worst case? Death. But it won’t come to that.  I will make sure of it.”

              “How?”

              “I will tell them the truth. I was the one to kill Wattan. He attacked Layla, yes, and she defended herself, but I finished it.” He smiled at her. “Did you forget?”

              Layla swallowed. She had forgotten. Although, she didn’t think Wattan would have been able to survive her strike, even if Martin had not stepped in. “Will you be in trouble for killing Wattan?” she asked, biting her lip. 

              Martin allowed a small smile to play around his mouth. “No. I am a Council member. I might be chastised, but as a Council member, I can pass judgment on whomever has violated Were law and deserves to die. The only ones I need permission for are other Council members.”

              She shuddered at Martin’s words. No wonder some members like Kuruk was so drunk with power; to be able to command who lived and who died was a heady mixture. “Do you think Kuruk is the one hiding Suzette?” 

              “I don’t think so.” Martin shook his head. “He hates her too much. Besides, when I was her trainer, she mentioned that her real father was a Council member. This was before Kuruk’s time on the Council. She was drunk and I assumed she was talking nonsense. Now, I’m not so sure.” He stood up and moved over to Layla. “Don’t let any of this get to you. Keep a clear head and you’ll do fine. How are you holding up so far?”

              Layla smiled. She was glad he hadn’t asked her if she was okay. She was fine, considering.  Although she would be better if she wasn’t on trial and she hoped she would be able to answer all the Council’s questions clearly and calmly, even though Kuruk wouldn’t make it easy for her.

              Brett took a deep breath, his quick inhale telling. She probably looked scared.  More than anything, she wanted him to pull her into his arms and protect her, but he couldn’t. Not here, not now. He kissed her hand again and she rubbed his knuckles, his callused fingers trembling slightly as they held hers. A brave smile crossed her lips; she relished his strength and his love, but she needed steel in her backbone to handle this. 

              He knew as well as she did how the other Weres felt about her. Some revered her because she was Mai-coh’s daughter. Others felt it was no big deal and that she was using the legend of her father to do whatever she wanted. She’d heard the whispers the moment she stepped foot into that room. 

              Her lips curled in irony. How wrong they were. But she was not stupid, she would watch while the proceedings were going on. Martin was right, someone was trying to set her up and she was not going to roll over and die. 

              “So, why did the head Council guy call you Liwanu?” Brett asked Martin as she took a few more calming breaths to get her thoughts and anger under control, her beast becoming more unpredictable by the day.

              Martin shrugged. “It is my name.” 

              Layla looked at him in surprise, as did Brett. “Martin is not your name?” she asked, perplexed. 

              “Martin is my human name, but my name after I was changed became Liwanu.”

              “Oh,” Layla said. “I guess transforming would be a baptism of sorts.”

              He nodded. “All Weres have two names. The human name given to us by human parents and guardians and our Native name bestowed on us after our first transformation.”

              “So I have another name?”

              “Perhaps. You were not…indoctrinated like the rest of us.” He smiled at her. “And before you ask, I have no idea what it is or could be.” 

              He hesitated and gave Layla a cryptic look. “But a Were’s true name contains power that could be wielded only by the owner of the name. Names have power. When you find your true name, you can also sometimes find your true nature and your true power. That’s why some of us are so much stronger than others.” 

              He paused again and looked back at the door. “They are ready for us. It is time.”

              For the second time in less than an hour, Layla stood back in the Council’s trial room. It was even more cramped than before as those who were not able to make it earlier crammed in now. Members of the galley stood along the wall as she walked back in. Brett held her hand and gave it a squeeze, before he sat with the general populace and she was relieved that at least someone had the insight to reserve a seat for him. 

              She and Martin approached the dais where Acaraho sat. She noted with a slight twinge that Kuruk was now standing across from her. Great. He was the prosecution. 

              Acaraho banged the gavel. “Councilor Kuruk,” he ordered, “please read the charges against Ms. Layla Donovan.”

              Kuruk swept back his black robes as he approached, his stance menacing. His voice was loud as he began to speak. “Ms. Layla Donovan is charged with the unlawful and unauthorized killing of another Were. She was told beforehand about the penalty of killing another Were and did so anyway. According to Were law and tradition, any Were guilty of intentionally killing another must in turn be killed in the same manner. These are our laws.” He stepped back.

              Sweat broke out on her skin. She needed to relax. She had to control herself. An outburst here would most certainly result in her death.

              Acaraho banged his gavel. “Ms. Donovan, do you deny these charges?”