Chapter 24 Veronica
VERONICA
“What’s taking so long?” I said, turning to look at Declan and Wendy.
They sat on a bench outside the courtroom while I was pacing back and forth like a madwoman.
“You’ve got to calm down,” Declan said, a few scabs and cuts still visible on his face. “They’ve got to deliberate.”
“They’ll say you’re innocent,” Wendy added. “After everything that’s come out, they can’t deny it.”
“Yeah, but… waiting is nerve-racking,” I said.
My trial had taken place within the Wiccan temple closest to the Freedman Academy, and the judges were the highest-ranking witches and sorcerers from every coven within a hundred miles.
Each designee had come to hear arguments and lay judgment.
A judgment that would be carried out by the enforcers of magical law.
The whole thing had been intense and brutal to go through, especially after the lengths Virgil had gone to in order to ensure his plan worked.
Upon his death, a thrall spell broke, revealing that he’d put several students, a few professors, as well as other paranormal beings under his sway without their knowledge.
For all his shortcomings, Virgil had been a singularly skilled witch.
The fact he’d been able to do all that, and do it to some of the professors, was beyond impressive.
It was also why they’d all been dead set on finding me and bringing me to justice.
With the testimony of students and people like Professor Karmody, as well as my own and Wendy’s, Declan was sure they’d find me innocent.
But that was easier to hear than to believe.
Wendy got up and joined me in pacing the hall, her hand on my back the whole time.
“Things are going to be fine,” she said. “And once they are, you can come back home to study.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Headmistress.”
Wendy wrinkled her nose. “Ew. No. Don’t call me that.”
Balthazar’s last will and testament proclaimed that the school be left to his lone remaining family member.
Wendy. Though everyone, including her, had decided a twelve-year-old was too young to run a coven and school.
The lessons restarted as usual, but the coven had been ordered to vote on a replacement as leader within three months.
None of us were sure who they might choose, but we had faith they would try to find someone similar to Balthazar if possible.
“Come here, babe,” Declan said, patting the seat next to him. “Sit down and chill out.”
Sighing, I slumped onto the chair. During those weeks of research and hiding out, he’d dressed like a professional, and I still thought he looked a little weird in casual clothes.
I was so used to him wearing a jacket, slacks, and dress shirt that seeing him in a T-shirt and jeans made it difficult to imagine him as the gun-toting badass paranormal private detective who’d helped keep me alive.
Declan put an arm around my shoulders, and I sank into him, resting my head on his shoulder.
Over the weeks since Virgil’s defeat, he and I had grown even closer.
With everything going on, he’d become the one solid thing I could depend upon, and he’d taken that role without complaint.
I loved him for it, because I wasn’t sure Wendy would have been enough.
The door to the chamber opened slowly, and a young witch stepped out and nodded to us.
“The council has reached a verdict. Ms. Paolo, please step inside,” he said.
I stood, and Declan rose along with me. The young man held a hand up.
“I’m sorry, but we only need Ms. Paolo,” he said with an apologetic smile.
Declan took a heavy step toward him. “Are you going to stop me?”
Of course, the man could have used magic to try, but knowing Declan, he probably had some enchanted charm or totem that would nullify it and allow him to beat the man to a pulp if he tried.
The man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his throat. “You know what? I think a visitor would be permissible in this instance.”
“Well, if one’s good, then two is better,” Wendy said, rushing forward and taking my other hand.
A look of horror and worry crossed the young man’s face, and color rose to his cheeks, but he nodded.
“Okay. Fine,” he muttered, stepping aside.
The chamber was filled with nearly a hundred men and women of various ages, though most were over thirty, with a heavy portion in their fifties, sixties, and seventies from the looks of them.
Every eye watched us as we made our way to the center of the room.
A murmur of muttering erupted at the sight of Declan and Wendy, but no one spoke out against their presence.
The young adherent left us at the center of the room on a raised dais and hurried off. I faced the group of coven leaders with my shoulders back and head high, ready for the verdict, no matter what it might be.
An older man I’d seen briefly at a coven gathering the year before stood and approached a lectern before us.
The only thing I recalled of him was that his name was Jamisson Boyd, a coven leader from Milwaukee.
As he walked, he stroked his short, white beard, the hair standing out in bright relief against his dark brown skin.
He looked up at us as he came to the lectern, gripping the sides with his hands.
“Veronica Paolo,” he said, staring directly at me.
“You have been accused of the murder of your coven leader, Balthazar Freedman. Also, you were accused of assault upon multiple members of the coven. Finally, you were accused of the kidnapping of Ms. Gwendolyn Freedman, known colloquially to her coven as Wendy. You plead not guilty. Is that correct?”
“It is,” I said with a nod.
He bowed his head. “We, the Council of Covens, have heard the testimonies of several members of the Freedman Coven, as well as from yourself and Ms. Freedman. We’ve also heard from Mr. Declan McClintoc, the well-known and well-respected private investigator.
All of them sing your praises and gave evidence that you did not commit any of these crimes, and did in fact help bring the true perpetrator of the crimes, Mr. Virgil Tacitus, to an ignoble end. ”
“If that means we killed his ass, that was actually an ancient Celtic god, but you’ve pretty much got it right,” Declan said.
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Jamisson shot Declan a warning glance.
“After deliberation, we have come to a unanimous verdict. Veronica Paolo, the Council of Covens declare you innocent of all charges, and have retroactively declared Virgil Tacitus as sole perpetrator of all offenses.”
I let out a heaving sob, and nearly fell to my knees in relief. I actually would have if Declan hadn’t caught me.
“You, my dear, are free to go,” Jamisson said with a sly grin. “I think your coven will be happy to see you back.”
“Yeah, we will,” Wendy shrieked, jumping in the air.
“Let’s get out of here,” Declan said, putting his arm around me.
I couldn’t help it. I was so excited, relieved, and happy, I grabbed him and pulled him close. In front of all the coven leaders, I kissed him. There were a few chuckles around the room, but all I was focused on was Declan. His heat, his hands, and his mouth.
When we finally pulled apart, Wendy was giving us a bit of a disgusted look.
“Are you done now?” she said.
“For now.” Declan winked at me, which made Wendy gag exaggeratedly.
Laughing, Declan took my hand and led me out of the room, into the night. Into freedom.
After flipping the pancake over, I glanced at the wall, checking the clock in the coven kitchen. Classes wouldn’t start for two hours. Outside, the sun hadn’t even begun to crest off the horizon yet, and Wendy was half-asleep at the table.
When the food was done, I piled a pancake, some bacon, and eggs on a plate and slid it in front of her.
“Eat up,” I said.
The girl’s eyes fluttered all the way open, and she snatched up a fork and began devouring the meal.
Halfway through eating, Wendy slowed and set the fork aside.
“Are you okay?” I said, knowing she probably wasn’t. Not with what we needed to do this morning.
Wendy nodded. “I think so. I just… I don’t know. It’s sad.”
“Do you want to go ahead and get it done?”
She nodded and slid off the chair.
“The portal is ready,” I said. “One of the professors conjured it last night, so it would be ready for us.” I was getting much better at magic, but for this I wanted to be positive the portal was ready for us.
“Cool,” she muttered as she put on her coat and shouldered her backpack.
Without another word, I led her outside, and we began the trek to the secluded spot out in the woods. Our breath puffed out in clouds in the late-January air, and our shoes crunched in the inches of new snow. I didn’t force conversation, allowing Wendy to process as we went.
Eventually, we came upon the small underportal hidden behind a grove of trees and a few tall rock outcroppings. The portal led to one of the many magical hidden areas, similar to The Shadow Streets or Tombstone Station, but this one would take us somewhere quieter and more subdued.
“Ready?” I asked.
Nodding, she gripped my hand, and we stepped through.
My ears popped, and a moment later, we found ourselves in a green meadow.
Clouds obscured the sun overhead, but the weather was much warmer, with no snow in sight.
Tombstones and crypts were spread out as far as the eye could see.
Unlike the Tacitus family graveyard, this one resonated as a happier, less gloomy place while still being reverent.
We walked the field headed toward a specific crypt, the warm sun melting the snow off my boots. When we got close, the chiseled name on the tomb shone out in stark relief: FREEDMAN.
Wendy pressed her hand to the stone door, and some magical blood connection activated a spell. A deep, booming click sounded, and the door swung inward. Inside, there were rows and rows of small shelves. Brass containers sat on the shelves, many in various stages of tarnish.
Wendy put her backpack down and pulled out the urn we’d brought along. Balthazar’s name, birth date, and death date were engraved on the vessel. With quiet respect and love, she walked to the nearest stone shelf and put the urn on top of it, next to her mother and father’s urns.
“There you go, Momma,” Wendy whispered. “Your big brother is here to protect you along with Daddy.” She touched a fingertip to her parents' urns. “You’ll all take care of each other now.”
She turned to look, tears glimmering in her eyes. I crouched in front of her.
“You know they’re always with you, right?” I said, touching her chest. “Right here?”
Wendy nodded. “It’s just hard.”
“I know it is,” I said. “I lost almost my entire pack to disease. I lost friends, family, loved ones. It was awful, and it took a long time for me and the surviving pack members to get over it. That’s part of why I was excited when your uncle offered me a spot at the academy.
I could get a fresh start. I could learn and grow. ”
“I’m glad you came,” Wendy said, openly crying now.
“I’m glad too,” I said, tears stinging my own eyes. “I got my very best friend ever out of the deal.”
“You…you mean me?”
Chuckling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Well, uh, yeah, I mean you.”
Wendy threw her arms around me and hugged my neck so tight, I worried she’d cut off my airway.
“Let’s get out of here. Classes will be starting soon. I don’t want you to miss anything,” I said.
She nodded and gave the three urns one last look. “Bye, guys. I’ll come visit again. I love you all.”
She took my hand, and we left the mausoleum together. Somewhere in all the madness and chaos, she and I had become more than just friends. We’d become family. A family we both desperately needed.