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I focus on Gabriel’s power until my mind gives it a semi-physical form. Then I slightly raise my hands and physically shove it away, while my mind exerts a similar force on a mental level. It’s like trying to push a truck uphill, and all the while, I have to look calm and professional and keep my gestures as discreet as possible.
My magic’s naturally strong, but I’m out of practice and have done everything I can to repress my power. So it’s no surprise that, at first, my best efforts make no difference. But after a minute or two, the intensity of the force radiating from Gabriel drops by several degrees. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’ve achieved this directly. His concentration and will have wavered, presumably from surprise that someone’s fighting back and confusion about who’s doing it.
I seize my moment and push back harder still while the power’s weaker and his guard’s down. Somewhere in the background, the prosecution lawyer is opening his case. It would be useful if I were able to listen, but all of my energy and senses are focused on driving back Gabriel’s mesmerism. Despite the danger, I feel eerily calm, removed from the real world and purely concentrating on the task at hand.
Against anyone else, my family could help, but Gabriel’s too strong. In his heyday, my dad might have had a shot, but his powers are waning with age. And if Bren were free, he’d have a fighting chance, but wearing the blockers, he’s less attuned to magic than the average human. But I’m both powerful in my own right and supported by whatever protection Gabriel gave me against himself.
I ball my hands into tight fists, dig my nails into my palms hard enough to leave a mark, and push back with renewed force. The power recedes further, and this time, it’s definitely my doing. I almost want to do a little celebratory dance, but courtroom decorum issues aside, I can’t lose concentration now.
Something in the magic shifts. The tendrils of mesmerism still infuse the entire room, but Gabriel has seemingly realised the source of the resistance. Though I’m looking straight ahead, I can tell his mental and physical gazes are focused directly on me. It’s like he’s trying to read my mind, gaze into my soul, and undress me with his eyes all at once.
And then his direct attention recedes, but power explodes out from him, tripled in intensity.
If fighting back was like pushing a truck uphill before, now it’s like the brakes have come off and the vehicle is going to mow me down. He’s seemingly less interested in bending the courtroom to his will and more interested in seeing how much the inexplicably magical defence lawyer can take.
I strongly suspect the answer isnot much more.
“This was a cold-blooded, pre-planned attack by a young, fit man on a vulnerable older person. The defendant broke into the victim’s house, found him in bed, and shot him at point-blank range, for no better reason than an old family rivalry that had got out of hand.”
The prosecution’s words drift into my mind for a moment, then fade as the power intensifies once again.
My calm, professional veneer is slipping away by the moment. My head feels ready to explode from the pressure and a wave of nausea rises and falls in my stomach. I close my eyes and press my hands to my head.
The prosecution’s speech stalls. “Your Honour, my learned friend does not look well.”
I ignore both him and the sudden wave of concerned faces turned in my direction. I take a deep breath, stand up straight, and turn to look at Gabriel. He does not look like someone working powerful magic or pitting his strength against an opponent. His hands are clasped in front of him, and his handsome face wears a faintly bored expression. His uncle, Jim Thornber, tries to take his arm, presumably to funnel more magic through him, but Gabriel shakes his head slightly and shrugs him off.
The only thing to indicate that his efforts are costing him anything are his eyes. Where they’d been pale gold, they are a deep red, like all the fires of hell are burning behind them. I probably shouldn’t be able to tell at this distance, but somehow, they’re practically the only thing in the room I can see.
Hopefully, my oversized, coloured contact lenses are ensuring that my eyes appear to be a placid blue, but underneath, in the face of all this exertion, they’re probably a similar shade to his. That, or sliding beyond into a dark, dead grey.
As kids, we always used to say you shouldn’t look into Gabriel Thornber’s eyes. I guess it was just some sort of anti-Thornber propaganda, but between the shape and the way the colour change doesn’t restrict itself to his irises, theyareeerie, even by practitioner standards. The famous demon blood, presumably. Now, I indulge myself and make proper eye contact from across the room. It’s kill or cure—with our gazes locked, I might be able to find a way into his power. Equally, he could knock me out.
His glowing eyes narrow, and his studiously neutral expression slides into a slight frown, though the flow of power doesn’t abate. It hurts my head more than ever.
The rest of the Thornbers and their hangers-on are staring at me, too, but I keep my focus firmly on Gabriel.
Despite all my mental exertion, I’m only resisting magic, not performing it myself, so it hasn’t triggered the lien mark and explicitly given me away. Hopefully, Gabriel will assume my parents scoured the country and found someone who’s both a qualified lawyer and an exceptional practitioner. I’ve no reason to believe he knows Sadie Sadler was ever called to the Bar—or anything about my life over the last six years—so he won’t necessarily jump to conclusions. But I’m playing a dangerous game.
“Ms Elner, are you quite all right?” The judge stares at me in concern. I must look really terrible if he’s being this informal.
It’s imperative that I face him, reply to his question, and show proper respect. But I’m locked in Gabriel’s eyes like a bat trying to fly to the moon.
Without warning, his eyes widen, their fire dims, and they turn a sort of rose-gold. At the same time, his lips curve into what almost looks like a genuine smile. And the flow of power stops like he’s flipped a switch.
He carries on looking at me like he could stare all day, but with the crushing weight of his will removed, I’m able to break eye contact and turn back to the front. My head still aches from the exertion, but it’s down to the sort of level a few painkillers will easily resolve.
“Apologies, Your Honour. I felt a little faint for a moment. I suspect it’s the heat.” I take an exaggeratedly slow swig of water. “I’m fine now. My learned friend should continue.”
With one last worried glance at me, the other lawyer does just that. This time, I’m able to listen as intently as I usually do and scribble down some notes.
“The defendant was heard talking about his plans earlier in the evening and was seen by numerous witnesses both when he entered the house brandishing a weapon and when he left, covered in blood.”
When I dare to glance at the balcony, Gabriel is gone. The rest of the Thornbers remain, and they make an effort to take over the mesmerisation process, but I wave their power away with ease. I’d forgotten how strong I am.
Though I manage to keep my attention on the speech, I’m dimly aware of the old brand on my finger tingling. Perhaps it’s psychosomatic, but even with my disguise and without having triggered the lien mark, I can’t shake the feeling that Gabriel now knows exactly who I am and is planning… something.
EIGHT
