Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It is impressive—like everything in Unity Gate, no expense has been spared.
The hall is oval, its tiered seating arranged around the circumference, almost reminiscent of an old-fashioned circus ring. The seats are plush and wide, with wooden tables, more akin to those in a high-end theatre than a government facility.
The first three or four rows are full. Some spectators are clearly derivative—shifter, vampire, magic users in their robes—while others appear wholly human.
The remainder of the hall disappears into shadow.
In contrast, the circular stage is bathed in blinding white light.
A drift of cool air brushes the audience, yet the central platform feels still and stifling, heat trapped under the glare.
The cheerful usher informs me that I am the final witness; everyone else has already spoken. I am relieved to appear only as a witness, yet if that is so, why am I not seated with Lander’s team, reviewing statements? Why was I separated?
It does not feel right.
While waiting in the elegant anteroom, I reached for my magic and discovered something curious: the anti-magic dampeners affect me far less than they do others.
Designed to neutralise power drawn from standard biological sources, they cannot block mine; forged by a ley line, it operates on a different ‘frequency.’ My power remains intact.
Where others feel muted, I pass through the protective field as lightly as crossing a wild-flower meadow—careful only not to crush the blooms.
I hold my head high and glide up the shallow steps. I may be floundering inside, but outwardly I move like a swan—smooth, controlled, hiding the frantic paddling under the surface.
Now standing in the spotlight, in a hall surrounded by the powerful. Individually, many of them are decent people. Together—leaders, heads of their factions—they must be harder than that. They have to be willing to choose the ‘greater good’ with bloodless hands.
Most chairs encircling the stage are deep red, but front and centre stand a handful of gilded seats for the faction heads. The human representatives look distinctly uncomfortable: the thin man in the middle is pale, and the woman beside him is sweating despite the cool air.
The shifters appear relaxed. The Alpha Prime sits tall and still—and beside him, I spot a familiar face.
Riker smirks, gives a cocky wave, and I acknowledge him with a small, careful smile.
Then my eyes drift over the vampires and the magic users—the full council. Their expressions range from guilt to boredom to mild contempt.
At the end of the row sit Lander and Dayna. Lander’s pale celadon-green gaze never leaves me. He is probably regretting letting me attend.
I step behind the lectern at centre stage. A microphone waits, red light glowing. Everything here is being recorded; even my breathing feels like evidence.
“Good evening,” a disembodied voice intones. “For the record, please state your name.”
I nod. “Good evening. My name is Harper House.”
“Thank you, Miss House. Please give your statement regarding the events that led to the twenty-ninth of June.”
The morning the coven attacked the chapel.
“Of course.”
I begin at the beginning: leaving the paper mages, taking up residence in the chapel, growing concerned about the Ministry’s behaviour. I am careful not to admit to spying on Meredith, yet my caution draws the Magic Council’s attention.
“Miss House,” one councillor interrupts, “how did you learn of the planned attack? Our records show you had already prepared defensive measures. Did you, in fact, stage the incident yourself?”
“No,” I reply evenly. “I did not.”
I raise my hand. Paper answers the gesture; folders appear before every leader, thumping softly onto polished surfaces.
“If you consult chapter three, appendix six, you will find messages and time-stamped logs detailing what I heard, what I saw, and who said what.”
“These are emails and text messages,” a councillor says, frowning.
“Indeed.”
“But you are a paper mage. How did you obtain them?”
“I have a minor technomantic affinity.”
A ripple of surprise moves through the gilded seats. A few heads tilt, as if they are reassessing me.
Another councillor leans forward. “How did you conjure these documents when magic is blocked within Unity Gate?”
I smile. “It is not blocked for me, Councillor. I assumed that was obvious.”
“Aren’t the nullifiers supposed to suppress all magic?” a vampire snarls. “Can anyone else access their power?”
Heads turn; every faction leader shakes their head. No—no one else can. The nullifiers mute everyone but me.
“I still think she should be arrested,” a human Minister snaps. “At the very least, cuff her. She’s dangerous.”
“I don’t condone Meredith’s actions,” another mutters, “but I understand the impulse. She’s too powerful.”
“She has immunity,” Lander calls, voice like a whip cracking. “Have we all forgotten why we’re here? This isn’t a mage-hunt. Harper isn’t on trial. We’re here to repair a broken treaty, not break it further. But if you’re desperate to join Meredith Jackson in the cells—crack on.”
His glare sweeps the hall, daring anyone to test him.
Silence settles, uneasy and thick.
“Please continue, Miss House,” the disembodied voice intones.
“Gladly.” I keep my tone even. My palms are damp against the lectern. “In your documents—chapter three, appendix six—you will find the advisories I received, fully time-stamped. No one was harmed, and I used non-lethal spells.”
“You traumatised them,” a wizard snarls. “You wrapped them in papier-maché—covered their faces until they couldn’t breathe.”
“They breathed, and they lived,” I say mildly. “A little trauma is predictable when intruders break into one’s home. Would you not retaliate? Some of you would kill. What is papier-maché between mages? It is legal self-defence. I was within my rights to kill them all.”
I glance at Knox, and my expression softens. “Had I done so, the treaty might never have been broken.”
“So they attacked you—then what?” a councillor demands—Councillor Reep, my mind helpfully supplies. “Revenge?”
“No. Knox contacted me: his island was under siege. Councillor Kane formed a team; I joined it to rescue the hostages.”
“And then your magic backfired? Not so powerful after all?”
“Oh no.” I smile sweetly. “I did the memory wipe on purpose.”
A hush spreads.
“You… did it on purpose?” someone splutters.
“Of course.” The smile slips away, leaving something harder behind.
I let the lie burn. If I am here to protect them, I cannot hide behind their cover story.
“I lied to the team. I lied to Councillor Kane. The coven was preparing unwilling soul transfer magic, a spell that rips souls from their bodies. A spell I first saw one hundred and sixty-two years ago.”
Vampires lean forward.
“It existed in cruder forms long before. I could not let that spell loose in the world; it would be anarchy. So I stripped that knowledge out,” I add quietly. “Cleanly. Like tearing a single chapter from a book before it can be copied and passed around.”
Murmurs ripple through the seats.
“What do you mean, you saw it one hundred and sixty-two years ago?”
I swallow. The light is too bright; it makes every blink feel slow. “I was born Hestia Howard, two hundred and five years ago. That spell turned me into a sentient house.”
The hall erupts.
Vampires shout.
The Alpha Prime pinches his nose as if he has a headache brewing.
Lander buries his face in his hands. Dayna stares as though she has never seen me before.
“I think we need a recess,” someone mutters.