“No,” Boaz boomed. “Leave her out of this.”
“She’s in this up to her neck,” his mother spat. “They claim Amelie was captured on that boat. Amelie, who is a straight-A college student. Amelie, who is the Low Society ideal. Amelie, who lives at home under my watchful eye where I would see if something was wrong.” She seethed in my direction. “Murder is far more believable of that one. After all, she’s been convicted of it once already.”
I had expected the accusation, of course, but not its source. I knew Matron Pritchard didn’t like me, but I’d had no idea until that moment that she hated me.
“Are you questioning my judgment?” The Grande Dame uncoiled from her chair, a cobra ready to strike. “Do you truly believe I would release a murderer on a lark? Or is this simply an attempt at establishing precedent through slander in the hopes I will show your daughter the same imagined leniency?”
Matron Pritchard gaped in stunned comprehension of her misstep, but the snake she had stomped on was already fanning its hood. She had crossed the Grande Dame, in a crowded amphitheater, no less. Her wide eyes swept the row where other Low Society matrons gathered, but no one could save her from herself. It was one thing to believe I had killed Maud and that the Grande Dame had pardoned me since I was family. It was another to hurl the accusation in her face during a full assembly.
The spectacle made me sick, and I clutched my stomach, afraid it might spill.
Only a minute shake of Linus’s head gave me the strength to lower my hands and correct my posture.
The trial resumed, but try as I might, I couldn’t shake the ringing in my ears. Or maybe it was all the hateful words and insinuations I couldn’t escape. I stood beside Linus, a perfect statue, while inside I thrashed and wailed as I was put on trial once more right alongside Amelie.
Linus, a talented orator, told our side of the story. His summation painted a watercolor version of our night, but no one who wasn’t there could hold it up against the original and tell the difference. He revealed the nature of my part-time job in order to explain our interest in the Cora Ann. He admitted to tutoring me in order to bridge the gaps left in my education during my imprisonment to explain his current residence. And then he expounded on how the two intersected when we decided to explore the Cora Ann after learning about its highly publicized ghost.
I didn’t make a conscious decision to vanish through the door in my head to escape the dissection of my character, but I careened into awareness when Linus brushed his icy knuckles against mine.
Someone had asked me a question, and I had been too far away to hear or answer.
“As I said, Grier provided a distraction while I painted containment sigils around the room,” Linus reiterated. “Our goal was to protect ourselves from Ambrose. We had no clue as to the identity of his vessel until after he was contained and relinquished his aspect.”
The dame was staring a hole through me. “Do you have anything to add?”
Uncertain how much or what Linus had said, I shook my head. “No.”
“I will withdraw to my chambers for deliberation,” the Grande Dame announced. “I will return within the next half hour to render judgment.”
Thirty minutes to decide Amelie’s fate. I wondered if I had been given so many.
The Grande Dame and her retinue descended the back stairs and entered her private chambers, leaving those of us trapped on the floor to afford passive entertainment for the rest of the assembly. I mimicked Linus’s rigid posture and bored expression as best I could, but each second stretched an eternity.
I worked up the nerve to cut my eyes toward Boaz, but he was staring at his sister like this might be the last time he saw her, and his hands were flexing like he was debating the tensile strength of her chains.
Finally, a low creak announced the opening of a faraway door, and the Grande Dame returned with a click-clack of stilettos upon marble. The silence in the Lyceum was deafening while the trio resumed their seats and settled their gowns around them. With the suspense drawn out to the last possible millisecond, the Grande Dame rested her palms on her armrests and stared down at the Pritchard family.
“Amelie Pritchard murdered nine members of the Undead Coalition while under the influence of the shade, Ambrose. Eight of the nine clans are willing to settle for tithes to be paid in the amount of twelve million dollars. The final clan is calling for a blood tithe instead.” Her bored voice droned on. “Matron Pritchard, will you see these debts paid?”
“Twelve million dollars would empty my family’s coffers.” She wet her lips. “There must be something else.”
“There is,” the Grande Dame agreed amiably. “A blood tithe will satisfy any and all outstanding debts.”
A tremble started in my knees and migrated upward until my teeth chattered. “I’ll pay her debt.”
Every head in the room whipped toward me while Linus sighed my name through his parted lips.
“No,” Matron Pritchard snapped. “We won’t be indebted to you.”
“What’s the alternative, Mom?” Boaz demanded. “Amelie is your daughter.”
His mother ignored him. “We can’t afford the tithe.”
“Shall we arrange for an execution then?” The Grande Dame directed the question to the made vampires huddled in the row a half step below the level where we stood. “We are all in agreement that satisfies the debt, correct?”
“Yes,” nine voices chorused.
“I’m inclined to give you what you crave. The girl was foolish, and she won’t learn without punishment.” The vampires made a fingernails-on-chalkboard sound as they rubbed their upper fangs against their lower teeth that curdled my blood. “Except there’s one small problem. Six of the nine vampires Ambrose murdered weren’t killed in cold blood.”
Whispers raced through the room as we all scrambled to figure out why that could possibly matter now.
“The most curious aspect of this case is not that they were murdered by a dybbuk, but that they were killed within the high wrought iron fences surrounding Woolworth House.” Her red lips bled into a smile. “What are the odds that a horde of vampires, each bound to a different clan, would descend upon my niece’s house on the same night at the same time?”
The nine salivating vampires ceased their scraping and fell as silent as the dead. Or the undead in this case.
“Where is the proof?” a man I recognized as Clan Master Truong barked. “What evidence do you have?”
“The incontrovertible kind,” Linus informed him as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Let the record show the video I am about to share with the assembly was forwarded to the Grande Dame on the night the incident occurred.”
The lights dimmed, and a large projector screen unspooled from the ceiling. Linus pushed a button on his phone and, through the magic of Bluetooth, we were all treated to a short film blasted from a projector overhead.
The movie was set in my front yard and starred six unfamiliar vampires. They scuttled over the fence like spiders, weaving through shadows toward Woolly. Ambrose intercepted them on the lawn wearing wrinkled pants spotted with concrete and a bloodthirsty grin, his headful of flames dancing wickedly.
“Who might you be?” his silken voice implored. “I don’t recall seeing your names on the guest list.”
“Step aside, abomination,” one snarled. “We have business here.”
“The lady of the house isn’t home.” Ambrose rocked back on his heels. “You’ll have to come back later.”
Another vampire unslung the wooden bat from his shoulder and aimed it at Woolly. “We’ll just leave her our calling card then.”
“No need for that.” He affected gripping a pen poised over a notebook. “I’m happy to take your names.”