Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

              Layla stepped forward. “I do.”

              He leaned forward in his seat. “Then by all means tell us your version of the events in question.”

              She stepped up to the dais. “Um, your honor,” she started, ignoring the laughter from the galley. “I admit to fighting with Wattan, but not killing him.”

              Kuruk interrupted her. “Ms. Donovan, the story please, so that judgment can be passed.”

              Resisting the urge to glare at him, she nodded. “Martin and I…I mean Liwanu and I, went to the house that Suzette was using as a base.  She was holding my friend Brett hostage and instructed me to bring my little cousin to her in exchange.”

              “And did you?” one of the Council members asked.

              “No, Mar—Liwanu and I took a dummy filled with explosives instead.” The Council member frowned, wrote on a piece of paper and passed it along to the others, who nodded in agreement. She took another deep breath and continued. 

              “We were attacked by Suzette and in the midst of the fighting, another Were showed up and threatened her.”

              The Council members straightened at this news. 

              “Do you know the name of this other Were who showed up at the home?” Kuruk asked with a smirk. 

              Layla’s eyes slid to Martin. He shook his head so slightly she may have misinterpreted the move, but she remembered his warning about Kuruk. 

              “Ms. Donovan? Do you know the name of the other Were?”

              She wondered why Kuruk was trying so hard to force her to name him. He wasn’t stupid. Perhaps this was his plan to discredit her. She would claim that he was there and he would have ten different Weres vouch for his whereabouts. Then all her credibility would be shot to hell.                “No. I don’t know the other Were’s name.” 

              Martin visibly relaxed.

              Kuruk’s lips tightened. “Are you certain? It took a while for you to answer the question.”

              Layla straightened. “I was replaying the scene in my head to see if anyone had said his name. No one did.”

              Acaraho motioned for her to continue her story.

              “While the other Were fought Liwanu, I fought Suzette in another room. I managed to deeply wound her and went to assist the others. While there, Wattan attacked me and I fought back.” She glanced up at Acaraho. “He was wounded, but I did not kill him.”

              Kuruk laughed loudly. “Really Ms. Donovan? We have about a dozen eyewitnesses who claim they saw you kill him.” He walked towards her. 

              Layla shook her head adamantly. “I did not kill him.”

              “This wound, Ms. Donovan, where was it? You claimed to have wounded him, so where was the wound?”

              She sighed. “It was his throat. I used a blade and cut his throat.”

              “And yet you did not kill him?

              “He was alive and might have been able to heal.” Kuruk laughed loudly as he addressed the Council members. 

              “She admits she slit his throat. She admits that the wound was hers. We know that he died from a throat slash and we have witnesses to corroborate her own story about her actions.” His voice grew louder. “Yet, she still insists that she did not kill him and now there is suddenly mention of a mysterious Were who she cannot name.” 

              He whirled back to Layla. “Did this mysterious Were kill Wattan?” he sneered.

              Layla shook her head. Her composure was starting to become rattled, her wolf readying for a fight. She tried to suppress the beast and glared at Kuruk. It was all his fault. He was twisting her words and making her sound like a liar while she was trying to tell the truth.               “No, he didn’t.”

              “Ah hah!” Kuruk faced Acaraho. “So, now the mysterious Were did not kill Wattan. He only showed up for a fight and left?”

              Layla squared her shoulders, finally tired of the games. “Actually, the mysterious Were ambushed us and when he started to lose the fight, ran away like a coward with his tail tucked between his legs because he knew he could not win.” She smiled, watching an angry tick start in Kuruk’s jaw as he looked back at her.

              He took a moment and composed himself before he faced the Council. “So once again we are faced with bits and pieces of the story. We still don’t know who killed Wattan. I do believe until I hear otherwise, it is only logical that Ms. Donovan here be made responsible for the death of an upstanding citizen.”

              Layla looked at Acaraho. “I did not kill Wattan.”

              Acaraho looked back at her with disinterest, his mind clearly made up about her guilt. “If you did not, Ms. Donovan, who did?”
              “I did.”

              A gasp stole through the crowd as Martin stood. 

              “Liwanu,” Acaraho warned, “I know you have feelings for the young woman, but do not let it interfere with your good judgment.”

              Martin straightened and walked towards Kuruk and the dais. “When have I ever let emotions interfere with my job?” he asked coolly as he approached.

              “Why are you just admitting this now?” Kuruk snapped angrily.

              Martin looked at him with a layer of frost in his eyes. “Because she was on trial for murder. I wanted the Council to be certain that she did not kill him. Based on her story of what happened and the fight, it is obvious that Ms. Donovan fought back in self-defense. She slit his throat, that is true, but it was not a killing blow. That honor was mine.”

              Acaraho stared at Martin. “Liwanu.  Kuruk  I want to see you both in my office as soon as we are done here.” He banged the gavel against the wooden podium. “Ms. Donovan, you are free to leave.” 

              The bones in her feet seemed to turn to mush as the Brett raced across the room and grabbed her to him. The Council members turned away to follow Acaraho and Kuruk glared at her as he rudely brushed past. 

              Martin gave him a long look before he turned to Layla and Brett. “Go to the Council chambers we were just in and wait for me. Everything is fine now. I won’t be long.”

*

              Layla looked up at the brick building. The bright sun contrasted with the chill of the wind as it blew through her hair and her light jacket. With her Were body running on high, she got colder even more quickly when in her human form. Right now, she was freezing and did not want to do anything but stay in her bed and sleep. Unfortunately, she had promised her aunt that she would go back school and, at least, get whatever assignments she needed to complete. 

              Walking into the Academic Advising office, she quickly wrote her name on the waiting list and sighed as she realized there were about eight others ahead of her. It was going to be a long wait. She had an appointment to see the Director about simply finishing her courses online. Her childhood psychiatrist had given her a note to help with her case and a prescription for something to help with her anxiety and to help her sleep. 

              She felt a bit guilty about exaggerating what she was feeling, but she wasn’t up to having to sit in a classroom and listen to a lecturer all the time. And the first time she had transformed had been in class. She didn’t trust that her classmates would be safe around her. She also didn’t want a pass. She still wanted to do her work, but she was so unfocused that she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle her midterms in the next two weeks; much less her finals. She definitely needed an extension. 

              After about fifteen minutes, a stout, older, black lady with bright pink fingernails called her name. She walked over to the desk and sat down. 

              “Layla Donovan?”

              “Yes.”

              “Enrollment status?”
              “Part-time student, undergrad program, Psychology.”

              The woman typed the information into the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard surprisingly quickly given the length of her nails. 

              “Okay, Ms. Donovan,” she said, her Southern drawl pronounced. “Seems here you were involved in that nasty incident last month.”  She tsked, “you doing okay, sweetie?”

              Layla shrugged. “As good as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she answered truthfully. 

              The woman looked at her with sympathy and shook her head. “Some people are just crazy.” She leaned closer to Layla. “Don’t worry about this, sweetie; I am gonna make sure the Director get this immediately.” She stood up. “Now, you wait right here. I’ll be back.” 

              Slumping down in the chair, Layla looked around, wary of all the people.  The wide space was segmented into sections separated by cubicles. Students of all ethnic groups and ages were arranged at the different booths being helped. She wondered what the woman helping her would do if she told her that she was a werewolf and the reason she needed to talk to the director was because she wanted to take her classes online so she didn’t endanger the other students when the other werewolves who were trying to kill her eventually found her. Not like that would scare anyone, she smiled. 

              The older woman motioned her to her, a smile on her face and a whispered “good luck” when Layla approached. She quickly moved back to her desk, leaving Layla outside the director’s door. 

              Layla knocked and opened the door when she heard a quick “come in.” A small Hispanic man behind the desk stood to greet her. 

              “Ms. Donovan?”

              She nodded and shook his hand.

              “So, I’m told you have some issues that you need to talk about?”

              “Yes sir.” Layla cleared her throat. “I wanted to know if it would be possible to finish the rest of my classes online.”

              The man frowned at her and typed something into his computer system. “You had work study and were assigned to the Admissions department?” 

              Layla nodded again.

              He tapped a few keys. “You were also in the dorm where those two people were killed?”

              “Yes. One of them was my neighbor.”  Layla squirmed in the chair, a bit uncomfortable at the direction the conversation seemed to be headed in.

              “And I also see you were arrested for theft.”

              “Um, I was framed. The charges were dropped and I was cleared.”

              “Yes, yes, I see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Ms. Donovan, I am afraid it’s too late to allow you to do the courses online. Right now, technically, you should not even be enrolled, as you no longer have work study, but we are overlooking this in light of what happened to you.” 

              He twirled a pencil around in his hand. “Needless to say, we understand how terribly traumatized you must be, but unfortunately, the online courses and the traditional classroom courses are not in sync. The professors run them differently, so your study could be severely hindered.”

              Layla closed her eyes as her shoulders dropped. She was going to be responsible if an attack happened near the campus again. She could see this all going wrong and innocent people getting hurt. This was last time all over again.

              “Tell you what,” he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We can allow you to take the classes next semester and you can sit this semester out to get your head back together or, another option could be, simply asking your professors to do an independent research study to help with the rest of the semester grades.”

              An independent research study was not bad. She was enrolled in four classes. Her mentoring class she could test out of, but that left three other classes and that meant three research papers that would count for her midterms and finals. Three papers that would have to be at least fifty or sixty pages. Each. She shuddered, thinking of all that writing. But it was better than nothing and she would be limiting her time on campus.

              “Thank you,” she told him gratefully. “I’m sure most of my professors would agree with the independent research, but I’m not certain my Statistics professor would allow it. He and I don’t really get along.” 

              The Director’s eyebrows raised in question. 

              “Last month he hurled a few accusations at me and then dropped me from the course.  The Dean put me back in the course and then the attacks happened and to be honest I haven’t spoken to him since then. But I don’t think he will be open to this idea.”

              The Director rubbed his nose again. “How about this? Talk to your professor and try to explain the situation. If it doesn’t work, come back and talk to me and we’ll figure something out. Okay?”

              Layla nodded. It was better than nothing. She understood that until she spoke with her professor there was nothing else the director was going to do. She thanked him again, grabbed the forms he gave her and exited the room.

              As she walked the hallway on the way to the academic offices, she saw a flash of white blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Suzette. Instinctively, she ducked beneath the window and peeked out at the Were strolling confidently down the street. The Were paused, as if she knew she was being watched and then looked behind her.