Chapter Eight
Esmeray
The opposing attorney, a third-rate slip and fall lawyer from the next county over, practically glided around the courtroom floor on his own grease.
A snake shifter if ever I saw one. “Mr. Lymmings. We’ve heard your impact statement, but I’d ask some questions of you to cover things the judge has requested. ”
Malarthe nodded somberly as the judge leaned in his seat to watch the proceedings. “Absolutely, Mr. Beaumont.”
“When did you first notice your malady?” He leaned on the stand and gave Malarthe a commiserating stare.
“June seventeenth. I’d just gotten married to my lovely new wife and on my wedding night…” Malarthe’s voice cracked as he turned his head. “It became apparent something was wrong.”
“And how did you come to the conclusion it was a curse?” Beaumont gestured for him to continue.
“I’m a Singulatarian, my wife and I are.
We’re members of The Church, and we sought council for my issue, and they were able to discern a curse was placed on me, and from the connection still lingering, it was mong—hybrid magic and the caster local.
And since the only coven in the state that associates with hybrids is the Greater Lowell Valley Coven, I started there with a request for information on who might have done so. ”
Beaumont nodded sympathetically. “And what was their response?”
“Their response was not forthcoming. They claimed to have no information and refused to provide a list of hybrid mages capable, so I had to hire a private investigator to determine who might be capable of doing such a thing. Depriving me of my wedding night, an heir, a family. My poor wife.” Malarthe shook his head in dismay.
“Objection, Your Honor. Malarthe’s information request was for private information not available without a warrant.
He requested a list of all hybrid mages in the coven, which, for safety reasons, is not disseminated.
They did offer him a list of all mages who practiced magic relating to body modifications, biomancy, and specifically male enhancement. ” I stared at the judge, who nodded.
“Sustained.”
I relaxed slightly.
“As Young Mr. Faust has stated, yes, some information was offered, but it was not what I needed. I obtained the information I did and found that the mong—Greginald Hawthorne casts a profuse amount of curses on male genitalia for money.”
“Objection. Mage Hawthorne does not practice in hexes or curses. Furthermore, he has a contract with an extraplanar fertility goddess that would be nullified immediately if he were to do such a spell. See the mark of Diana on his palm. And I may remind you, Mr. Lymmings, the correct terminology is hybrid.” I lifted Gre’s hand to show the crescent moon sigil, and the judge gestured for a bench assistant to look something up on their computer, verifying the sigil.
Gre funneled power into it so it glowed to prove it was genuine.
“Sustained. Mr. Malarthe, please refrain from speculation. We understand you are upset about your manhood, but it’s no excuse to make inflammatory remarks.
” Judge Torsten could be an asshole, but he was equally an asshole to all.
“And please refrain from using slurs. You may refer to him as Mage Hawthorne or Greginald, but if I hear you start to say mongrim again, I will have you dismissed from my court.”
“Apologies, Your Honor. Malarthe is a plainspoken and honest man and isn’t up to date on politically correct terminology.” Beaumont said politically correct, but the way it slid off his tongue detailed exactly how little he thought of politeness.
Judge Torsten, unimpressed as always, narrowed his gaze in a way that spoke volumes. If I had a guess, it was something like if you have to tell me they’re honest, they’re not.
“So, final question, Mr. Lymmings. What would be the process for removing this curse?” Beaumont blinked up innocently at the judge while Malarthe spoke about paying The Church a sum of money to break it.
Judge Torsten whistled appreciatively. “I’m in the wrong business.”
“We all are, Your Honor.” Beaumont shook his head as he stepped back. “No more questions, Your Honor. I cede the floor to you, Young Faust.”
Young Faust. The jab made me prickle, but I kept a straight face as I approached the stand at a calm gait.
I thought best while pacing, hand at my side as I played with a pen, toying with the clicker ever so quietly.
I didn’t dare actually click it, but touching the button brought me a welcome focal point.
“Mr. Lymmings. You are alpha human, correct?”
Malarthe nodded. “Yes. I come from eight generations of human. Beyond that, I believe there was some elven blood.”
Oh, look, I’m one-eighth elven royalty. Esmeray didn’t comment.
Malarthe’s former convictions were inadmissible, no matter how many times he’d gotten arrested for indecent exposure or sexual assault.
He’d never had to register, and he’d paid a lot of money to erase little things.
Neither were Malarthe’s frivolous lawsuits going back fifteen years.
Like clockwork, he sued someone every six months for a living. I doubted he’d ever held a real job.
“And can you describe your failure to perform? I wish no disrespect, simply to gain an understanding of your malady.” I approached the bench and rested a hand on the wood before him.
Malarthe stared me down, his gaze judgmental, but I was an omega and an attractive one.
Succubus genetics did it. Without any thaumaturgy or magic, I could ensnare a man’s attention so easily.
“I’m unable to obtain or maintain an erection. If I can synthetically induce one, I cannot reach completion.” Malarthe spoke of it with clearly feigned distress. “So many times I’ve tried to consummate my marriage and… Nothing. My beautiful wife is so downtrodden.”
If I were his wife, I’d be cheering. Still, something was off as I waited for Malarthe to finish crying about his dick not sporting for his marital relations.
Still, as he spoke, he stared me down, eyes lingering at my jawline, my chest, following my backside as I turned to pace again. “And have you thought about seeking the services of a mage to nullify the alleged curse?”
“I’m a Singulatarian. I cannot seek the magics of false gods.” Malarthe kept staring at me, posture shifting uncomfortably.
I nodded in understanding. “Still, seeking out my client as your aggressor seems a bit of a reach, don’t you think?”
“If the coven and the mages won’t give me the information I need, it’s all I can do to sue until I get the answers so I can seek restitution.” Malarthe leaned forward slightly, brow knitted tight.
“Erection— Objection, your honor!” My gut clenched as Gre’s voice rang out. Horrified, I glanced up and over before following his gaze back to Malarthe who had leaned forward, jaw set stubbornly.
Judge Torsten leaned over and frowned. “Sustained? Mr. Malarthe. It appears that part of your statement is incorrect. You appear to have no issues obtaining an erection at this moment.”
As I glanced down, it was apparent that Malarthe had been sniffing me out, my proximity making an alpha react as they naturally would.
“It’s… He must have lifted it. I—” Malarthe fumbled over his words as the judge sighed heavily.
“I’d like to file a motion to extend for further discovery!” Beaumont glared at me then Malarthe and pursed his lips.
“I grant you thirty days to find a neutral party recommended by the court to verify your claims and conditions. I would like to reenter discovery at that time. I’m setting the docket for one month and canceling all other sessions for you, Mr. Lymmings, until such time as you present adequate evidence.
Court dismissed.” Judge Torsten hammered the gavel and stood, shuffling off the stand with a slow pace.
Beaumont and Malarthe practically fled the room as I caught Gre’s sheepish gaze that shifted into his human form. “Apologies… I—from my angle—”
“I get it. Let’s just get home. Father is panicking, and Malarthe shot himself in the foot demanding you shift.” I packed up my things and gestured for him to follow me.
“Can’t say it’s the first time I’ve had good luck giving someone head.” Gre kept his expression neutral as he said it, and it was all I could do not to laugh.
We rushed out of the courtroom doors, my hand finding his as we made our way toward the elevator.
The moment we got out of range of the exiting crowd, I stared at the elevator doors and the people filing in. “Stairs.”
We bypassed them and pushed through a fire door before running into a lingering Malarthe.
Malarthe was old blood, a long family line with touted line to the fae and old money.
His claim, likely legitimate, didn’t reflect in his stringy brown hair and dull blue eyes.
Nor did the slight overlap of his lower teeth as he sneered.
Had he any significant amount of fae blood, his ears would be pointed and teeth far more sharp.
“What the fuck was that in there you pulled, omega?”
I halted mid-step as Malarthe cut me off from backing out of the door. Gre, for his part, fisted his hands and kept still, ready to snap forward. The split-second judgment call of not acting was fantastic. Malarthe would love to out a conflict of interest.
“Sir, I’d like to implore you to not speak with me as this is unethical and highly illegal.
” I stepped to the side, but Malarthe slammed his hand against the wall, trapping me.
His wild eyes raked me from head to toe as my shadow spread along the floor, tendrils curling.
Lights flickered, but Malarthe didn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t intend on discussing the case. I want to discuss you.” Malarthe took a deep breath, eyes hooding. “Succubus? I smell it on you. Hellspawn has no place in this country. What magic you cast in there on me was way out of line. I’d go as far as to say it was assault.”
“I am not a succubus. I am the son of a lesser prince, grandson of the fallen. I possess the spirit of a fallen as my shadow. I am a daeva host. Your reaction to me was organic.” I pressed myself farther back against the wall, willing Ausmius to not strike against the litigious freak. Though, he had every right to.
Malarthe inhaled again, leaning closer with a shudder. “Make a fool of me and pay the price, little demon. Watch your back, because I will have your head on a platter or your ass on my dick before I deal with your little freak of natural law. He’s declared war on The Church, you know?”
It was all I could do to hold back, stifling my power.
In truth, I had some succubus magic in me.
I could ensnare and enrapture, but I never did unless in self-defense.
Ausmius flared up the wall, Gre’s shadow joining him as their vivid smiles stretched wide and toothy.
As Malarthe caught a glimpse of them, his eyes widened and he stiffened long enough for me to duck under his arm and pull away, stepping down the first stair with a shudder frozen in my chest.
Gre stepped between Malarthe and myself in an almost-coincidental gesture, but I didn’t mistake his flat gaze for anything other than murder. Every inch of him had coiled tight, and his magic hummed in the air, screaming touch my mate and die.
Hot.
“In what way have I declared war with The Church? I largely do my best to avoid them at all costs. They’re inconsequential to my practices.” Gre shifted his feet slightly to keep Malarthe from gazing around him.
“I know what you are. I can’t do shit against you, but trust me, we’ll burn the world down around you.” He made a comical gesture across his throat that reminded me all too soon of the scar across my neck.
“Mage Hawthorne. Come. We have no business here.” I grabbed Gre by the wrist and tugged, ushering the male away.
Malarthe stared us down, his wild eyes with too much white showing, following us around the curve of the steps as we descended. “You can’t hide from The Church.”
“Don’t intend to!” Gre spoke up, and I hissed under my breath, sweeping away as our shadows protested, Ausmius giving a feeble middle finger gesture as the last word.
“Don’t be a dick,” I muttered beneath my breath, but I couldn’t put any energy into the lame comment.
I couldn’t wait to be back in the car. The situation with Malarthe left me feeling itchy, my body desperate to rid itself of another male’s presence.
My bond was too new and wanted Gre—even more so when our shadows clutched to one another and coalesced into one mass before falling into place.