Vindicated by Bella Klaus
Chapter Nine
Righting myself, I rushed to the shard of light that had encased Fenrir and tried to punch through it. When my fist went through the other end, a rope of panic wrapped around my neck and tightened.
“What have you done to him?” I whirled to the left of the table, where the Angel King remained standing.
“The Supernatural Council doesn’t tolerate murder. Not even from its members.”
My mouth opened and closed, and my mind churned for a response. “But he didn’t kill anyone,” I lied. “Fenrir is innocent.”
“What’s this about?” Mera said from behind me. “Is this some kind of revenge because King Fenrir doesn’t respect your authority?”
I turned to the smaller woman, my chest tightening with gratitude. Perhaps if she and King Valentine could put the matter to a vote, I could persuade the two mute women sitting opposite us to side with Fenrir.
“The evidence against the Shifter King is overwhelming.” The Angel King flicked a hand, and the table turned into a screen.
It was nighttime, and the person holding the camera walked through a locker room, where men of all different shapes and sizes were getting changed.
“What is this?” I hissed.
“One of his many occupational cameras,” the Angel King said.
All the moisture in my throat evaporated, and the pulse located there hammered against my neck like a deranged woodpecker. I didn’t have to watch the rest of the showing. In a few minutes, the reaper would step onto the lawn and interfere with Fenrir’s attempt to take me to his pocket dimension.
The reaper walked to the door, where a gray-haired angel with stunted wings stood in a darkened hallway. He appeared to be taller than the reaper and wore a gray cloak.
“Watch yourself, Dantic.” He prodded the camera with a thick finger. “You’re on your last warning.”
I glanced at the shard of light and met Fenrir’s stricken features. There was no way I could stand around the table and let everyone watch the reaper’s last minutes.
“What happened to being innocent until proven guilty?” I yelled over the volume of the audio.
“Supernatural Council members are held to a higher standard than the individuals on human television shows,” said the Demon King.
I clenched my teeth. “Release Fenrir. We need him to protect Lunaris.”
“Miss Gerrison,” said the Angel King. “Have you considered that most of your demon-related issues arise from not moving to another location?”
“What?” I spat.
He nodded. “Wimbledon Common and Kew Gardens lie empty, warded from human eyes, and ready for habitation. We can transfer your shifters to either property.”
“Is this what this is all about?” My gaze darted around the table.
The Witch and Mage Queens’ gazes were transfixed on the movie playing out on its surface, but King Hades stared at me, his eyes glinting, calculating, gloating.
His henchman, the Fae King, placed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh. I can’t hear the audio with your screeching.”
I ground my teeth. He didn’t care about the reaper. None of them did. They just wanted us to move Lunaris out of Logris, and they were prepared to use any means to force us to agree.
Blood raced between my ears, ravaging, raging, roaring at me to react. I curled my hands into fists and snarled. “You’ve framed Fenrir.”
“How do we know this footage wasn’t falsified?” Mera asked.
The Angel King raised a hand and materialized a scroll. “These are the records of Pieter Dantik, Fourth-grade reaper of the Fifth Faction of Heaven. It says here that his cause of death was decapitation. Perpetrated by the wolf god Fenrisúlfr.”
“Oh, look.” The Fae King clapped his hands. “There’s her corpse.”
On the screen were images of Fenrir and me standing with my arms folded across my bare chest. I was semitransparent and standing a few feet away from my dead body.
My throat thickened, and I glanced at Fenrir, whose face tightened with agony.
If I didn’t say something, the Demon King would probably return Fenrir to Queen Hel, and she would keep him somewhere I’d never find him.
“Can’t we come to an arrangement?” My voice shook. “We can’t stop Marchosias without Fenrir—”
“You just gave us the information we need to prevent his rise,” said King Hades. “And removing Fenrisúlfr from the equation would stop demons from attacking Lunaris, yes?”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
He wagged his finger. “I know how it feels after a good fuck. For a day or so afterward, you would lay down your life for this other person. It’s just a rush of oxytocin, which will eventually fade.”
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
“We crowned you the Shifter Queen, and you’re mated to your own usurper.” King Hades grinned. “We don’t need two monarchs. Take your well-earned leadership, enjoy the power that comes with being a sexy young queen, and allow Fenrisúlfr to pay for his crimes.”
“No,” I yelled.
The shard of light encasing Fenrir winked out of existence.
My stomach plummeted.
“What did you do to him?”
“Fenrisúlfr is perfectly safe,” said the Angel King. “As are all the measures we agreed to put into place to protect Lunaris. Now, this gathering of the Supernatural Council is at its end. Those of you who wish to remain for refreshments may do so—”
“Bring him back.” With a snarl, I launched myself at the Angel King, my hands transforming into claws.
Strong hands grabbed my arms, and I kicked and thrashed within my captor’s grip.
“Let go of me.” My voice contorted into a snarl, and hair sprouted through my skin.
“Queen Lydia,” the Angel King said, his features stern. “I must ask you to stop this display at once.”
My limbs bent, twisted, broke and reformed. Pain sliced through my back from where I’d broken my wing during the battle against the demons. I snapped at the enforcer’s hand, my teeth slicing through the leather and making her scream. She released me, and I leaped across the table toward the Angel King.
White light surrounded my body, which froze in mid-air.
“Queen Lydia is suffering a breakdown,” the Angel King said with a sigh. “Please transfer her to the hospital and have her sedated until she can see the sense in our decision.”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and my wolf let out a mournful howl. I was stuck. Stuck in this half-shifted state. Stuck in this magical enclosure. Stuck in this state of uselessness while those bastards were probably handing Fenrir over to his sister like a sacrificial wolf.
Mera’s protests rang through my ears. She screamed at the Angel and Demon Kings about ambushing, justice, and underhanded tricks. Neither of them replied. They’d gotten what they wanted. The demise of a powerful rival.
Channeling all my hatred into my magic, I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled a plume of fire.
Before it could reach the Angel King’s sanctimonious face, everything went black.
I had no idea how much time passed, but soft hands stroked my hair, reminding me of days I would return home battered and broken from bullies. It never mattered how many of them I fought. They always overwhelmed me.
Despair swept through my sinuses, filling my eyes with fresh tears. I’d been murdered. Brought back to life. Risen to the alpha of my pack, and won the heart of a god, yet these people always managed to reduce me to the outcast in the shack.
Soft lips landed on my temple.
“I’m going for a cup of tea,” Mum’s voice said. “Once again, I’m sorry for messing with your heat.”
“Mum,” I croaked.
She flinched the way she usually did when startled. “They said you’d be unconscious for another hour.”
I cracked open an eye to find myself in a white hospital room with glass walls on both sides. The one on the left gave a view of the fountains within the Supernatural Headquarters’ paved courtyard. On the right was a wide hallway and then the glass entrances of similar-sized rooms.
Mum reached over and brushed a lock of hair off my face. “How are you feeling, dear?”
A weight settled on my chest, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I blinked the glare from my eyes and stared into her pale face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as though she’d been crying. I hoped it wasn’t because there’d been a development with Fenrir.
“Did they tell you what happened?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Only that you’d had a breakdown and Fenrir had killed someone. It sounded like a bag of bullshit.”
“The breakdown part was a lie,” I said in a low voice. Shifting on the bed, I brought my hands to my face, only for my wrists to be caught in a magical bind.
“Bloody bastards,” I growled.
“Lydia?” she asked.
“They set him up.”
“The Council?” Her brows drew together.
I nodded. “They could have brought up that reaper anytime, but they waited until now for their own nefarious reasons.”
Mum’s eyes went round. “Are you talking about the one who tried to drag you to Hell?”
A dry cough tickled my throat, and she handed me a cup of water. “Thanks,” I rasped and took several long drags of cool fluid. “The reaper trapped us both in a ward. Fenrir and I joined forces and broke through it.”
Her lips tightened. “Did you attack him?”
“No, but—”
“Are you sure Fenrir killed him?” she asked.
I nodded and gulped down another mouthful of water.
Mum folded her arms across her chest, her features inscrutable. “Then what we need is a fancy advocate who can petition the Supernatural Council.”
Eyes widening, I shifted on the bed and tried to shake off the lingering effects of the enchantment that had rendered me unconscious. Sometimes, I forgot that Mum was so knowledgeable. She had been the alpha female of our pack for years as well as the Queen Consort of Lunaris. Best of all, she was university-educated. Of course she’d know what to do.
“All right,” I said. “There’s money in the treasury. We can hire someone right now.”
Mum nodded. “I’ll make a few calls to some of the law firms and see who’s willing to take on the case.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.
She flicked her head toward the glass window that led out to the hallway. At the end of the corridor stood a tall reception counter, manned by a pair of nurses in white uniforms. The sign on the wall behind them said SHIFTER WARD.
“I got a message from the Council ordering me to report to the hospital for forensic photography,” she said. “As I entered through the mirror room, I saw a group of enforcers floating you inside.”
“Right.” I nodded, remembering that we still needed to deal with Marchosias. “Did you get the photos done?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, and you’ll never guess who I saw.”
“Beowulf.”
Mum drew back and frowned. “How do you know?” She waved a hand. “It no longer matters. Let me nip out and start making calls. I’ll tell Philip that you’re making the decisions for the pack while Fenrir is incarcerated.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. “Maybe Mr. Owen could also tell us which advocate Dad used?”
With a brief nod, Mum jogged out of the door, leaving me with my thoughts. “Fenrir?”
A muffled voice rattled through my skull, making my heart flip.
“Are you there?” I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating on our connection.
It had only worked a few times—when I died and was stuck on my corpse, and the time Fenrir used his alpha magic to summon me back to the house. He’d also employed it when we were under attack by demons, but today, I felt nothing through our bond.
A knock sounded on the door, and my head snapped up. The Angel King stepped inside with a gray-haired healer who looked as uptight as him. They wore similar white outfits, except the healer’s was a uniform, and the Angel King was attempting to appear casual in a shirt and slacks. He’d even folded his wings back to make them less pretentious.
I curled my lip. “What the hell do you want?”
He raised his palms and stopped at the foot of the bed. “Please remain calm, Lydia, we just want to inform you of our findings.”
My throat tightened. “What have you done to Fenrir?”
“Our Demon King is negotiating a ceasefire with the Queen of the Sixth Faction of Hell,” he replied. “Apparently, Fenrir is a fugitive—”
“He’s a victim of a woman with a half-rotted brain.” I waved my arms for emphasis but the bindings restricted my movement. “Have you even seen her? Take a look at that face and tell me that isn’t the image of a supernatural psychopath.”
Pursing his lips, the Angel King stared down at me with the kind of disapproving glower academy instructors made when someone disrupted their class. I clenched my teeth. He acted as though I was the one being unreasonable.
Bugger that.
If they wanted me to rule Lunaris, they’d have to give me back my mate.
“Release me, release Fenrir, and stop acting like a bunch of pricks,” I snarled.
“No, Lydia,” he said in the kind of voice rodent mothers used to calm a litter of unruly toddlers.
I opened my mouth to speak, but a wave of ozone-scented magic clamped my lips shut. “Let’s think this situation through. Perhaps then, you might understand the severity of the situation. Fenrisúlfr murdered an innocent reaper in cold blood.”
My nostrils flared. I would have raged about the hypocrisy of keeping quiet about this supposed murder until now, but the winged asshole wouldn’t let me speak.
“Nobody is above the law.” He placed his hands on the footboard. “You’ll recall that we also punished Beowulf for authorizing your slaughter.”
My eyes widened, and as the magic encasing my mouth released, I spluttered. “You’re comparing them?”
He inclined his head. “Beowulf’s crime was a sin of inaction. Fenrisúlfr’s was an active sin.”
The gray-haired healer at his side nodded, as though he’d already been briefed on my situation. Irritation crawled across my skin like an army of fire ants. I couldn’t allow these people to throw my mate to the mercy of his wretched sister.
“Didn’t you see the video? That reaper attacked Fenrir with a scythe,” I snarled, my hands curling into fists. “What are gods supposed to do when someone’s trying to reap them, roll over and wait for a supervisor to come to their rescue?”
“Lydia,” he said with an impatient sigh.
A snarl reverberated in the back of my throat. “This is the Supernatural World. And Fenrir didn’t agree to be subject to your shitty rules. Grow up.”
Shaking his head, the Angel King stepped back, letting his companion take center stage.
The gray-haired healer clasped his hands and bounced on his feet with a fake smile. “Your Majesty, we have concluded the forensic photography and have the results.”
Turning my head to the side, I pretended to stare out through the window. If Mum didn’t return soon with a legal professional, Fenrir was screwed. There was no telling what Queen Hel would do to our connection. If she severed it, I’d not only die and go to another Faction of Hell, I would be incapable of rescuing Fenrir.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other man turn to the Angel King, who gestured at him to speak.
I ground my teeth. If they wanted me to cooperate with any of their schemes, they could get fucked. Preferably with the business end of Grog’s staff.
“We analyzed the forensic photos and have identified the markings of the being named Marchosias,” the healer said with false cheer. “Unfortunately, none of them were present on your body.”
My gaze dropped to my white hospital gown. Any other time, I would be outraged at the violation. But it was nothing compared to what Fenrir was suffering.
I huffed a laugh. “Why don’t you release Fenrir, and I’ll tell you why.”
“They’re on her demon wolf,” said the Angel King.
My nostrils flared. The stupid bastard had probably read my mind.
The healer cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind shifting, we can remove the marks—”
“No.” I would have folded my arms if I wasn’t tied down to the bed like a sexy wolf-shifter Gulliver.
“Lydia.” The Angel King strode to my bedside and tried to make eye contact. “The situation we’re facing is larger than the incarceration of Fenrisúlfr. If Marchosias so much as escaped Hell, he could erode the barriers between the realms.”
“Is that right?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes.” He almost sounded enthusiastic. “Please cooperate and shift. We’ll remove the demon’s means of connecting with your soul, and he’ll no longer keep trying to use you to birth his vessel.”
My eyes narrowed, and the inklings of a plan formed in the back of my mind.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
The Angel King beckoned at his companion, and two easy chairs materialized behind them. After they made themselves comfortable, the second man spoke.
“My name is Malachi Fizzil, spiritual healer and Professor of Demonology at the University of Logris.”
“Get to the point,” I said.
The corners of his lips tightened. I supposed a fancy university professor wasn’t used to being snapped at by the likes of me. Well, tough luck. Even if he wasn’t the person who had imprisoned my mate, he was sitting next to him like they were best friends. So, that made him my enemy.
He blew out a long breath. “Are you familiar with soul bonds?”
“Like fated mates?”
“That is one form of the phenomena,” he said with a nod. “Soul bonds can exist between lovers, parents and children, those who share a deep friendship, and higher beings and vassals.”
“Alright,” I said.
“There are multiple connections between you and others. Many of them have already been severed.”
“How?” I asked.
He shook off my question. “That is of little importance.”
My eyes narrowed. “Says who?”
“Just tell her,” the Angel King said with a weary sigh.
I shot him my filthiest glare. Did he think I would comply for a few crumbs of information? Turning back to Professor Fizzil, I said, “Go on, then.”
“There were two potential mates,” he said. “An extremely thin connection was placed there by fate, a second that we believe was the work of Marchosias. We found a third that clearly linked you and your wolf.”
My breaths turned shallow. “The wolf I was meant to have?”
The professor nodded. “Marchosias must have severed that connection and replaced it with something of his own.”
An image of the tall figure walking through the fire filled my mind, causing all the fine hairs on my body to stand on end. “Are you saying my wolf is a primordial demon?”
“No, but it is demonic.”
“She,” I snapped.
He inclined his head. “Of course. We have created a model of the other half of your soul and identified the connections. I sense no presence of Marchosias in her, and I see no reason why you can’t keep your demon.”
“You say that like you’re doing me a favor.” My voice dripped with venom.
The Angel King leaned forward in his seat. “If there was a wisp of primordial evil in your counterpart, we would have had to banish her to Hell, with or without your permission.”
Knots formed in my stomach, and they twisted into thick ropes of trepidation that wound around my windpipe. I was either in deep trouble, or they had chosen this way of phrasing things to make me feel lucky to have awoken unscathed.
“We need you to shift, so we may dig out the physical aspect of those connections,” said the healer.
“Are they like moles?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Think of them as malignant connections between you and Marchosias. Beings such as he are desperate for a taste of the outside world, and they will use any method at their disposal to create vessels.”
I gulped.
“The connection he uses to infiltrate your mind is active,” the Angel King said. “When he appears in your dreams, does it feel like he’s pulling you into Hell?”
I gave him a hesitant nod.
“That’s part of him pouring into your mind,” the Angel King said. “If you become pregnant with a child and so much as allow him to trick you into a bargain, he will extract the entire soul of that unborn infant and replace it with as much of his evil as your body can withstand.”
Chills ran across my skin, and I lowered myself into the pillows, my gaze fixed on the ceiling. This wasn’t exactly news—Marchosias had explained how the process worked in cryptic terms. Fenrir had also speculated that it would result in my death. But hearing it from a university professor just made my situation seem all the more dire.
“Now,” the Angel King asked, sounding more upbeat than the moment warranted. “Please shift, so Professor Fizzil can remove those connections.”
“No,” I rasped.
He paused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Not until you pardon Fenrir and return him to me.”
He drew in a slow, steady breath and stretched his features into a false smile. “Lydia.” His voice was artificially even. “Please, think of the consequences—”
“You heard me.” The weight of the world crushed my lungs, but I forced myself to keep speaking. “If raising this primordial evil is so catastrophic, you’ll release my mate.”
Silence spread across the hospital room, broken only by the movement of healers and patients beyond the glass wall. I was being senseless, small-minded, and utterly selfish. A bigger person would agree to the procedure to save the world from the consequences of Marchosias, but all I cared about was Fenrir.
“Did you not hear His Majesty?” the professor asked. “Marchosias’ presence in this world—even as an infant—would break down the barrier that protects innocent people from the wicked souls in Hell.”
“Then you’d better hurry up and set Fenrir free,” I muttered.
The Angel King rose from his seat. “I never thought the daughter of such a respected alpha would resort to a tactic as underhanded as blackmail.”
I bristled at his poor attempt to shame me into betraying my mate and turned to him with my teeth bared. “Until recently, I lived a shitty life in a shitty home and suffered an unfair and shitty death. Without Fenrir, I would have been cast into Hell, so excuse me for wanting back my mate.”
His features pinched. He slanted his body away from me, his eyes flaring with restrained fury. A normal person would hurl a bunch of insults or smite me with the wrath of Heaven if they had the power, but the Angel King was too repressed.
I raised my chin. “So, what are you going to do? Release Fenrir or be a stubborn prick and let the world go to Hell?”
The Angel King continued glowering down at me, and my insides shriveled to the size of my fist. Every instinct in my body wanted me to skitter away and tuck my tail between my legs, but I held firm. This was my best chance for freeing Fenrir.
He broke the stare first and said, “Very well. You will submit to Professor Fizzil’s procedure, and I will release Fenrir.”
I snorted. “Release Fenrir to where?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he remained silent. Maybe he thought I knew nothing about sneaky bastards. I’d seen rodent shifters with better poker faces.
Even Big Felipei from down the road was a more proficient bullshitter when he was half drunk, covered in lipstick, and trying to convince Chubby Cheryl that he’d just returned from work.
“Angels are incapable of telling falsehoods,” he said.
“Are you going to sign a contract in blood to guarantee Fenrir’s release to Lunaris?” I snapped. “Because I want my mate freed and his sister out of the way before I let anyone touch me.”
The Angel King bared his teeth. “Has it occurred to you that we are only asking for your consent out of courtesy?”
My stomach tightened, and every muscle in my body went rigid. I didn’t need a fancy university education to understand the hidden meaning behind his words:
Comply, or he would make me shift by force.
