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“Your father says that if we want you to help with his defence, we shouldn’t talk casually about the details.”
“For goodness’ sake, Mum! Am I a part of this family or not?”
“You tell me.”
I really walked into that one. I take the deepest breath I can and start to cross the bridge. There are two contradictory ways to keep unconscious magic at bay. One is to still your body and mind, and basically go into a trance. The other is physical exertion. I can’t hold a conversation with my mum while I’m running or while I’m meditating, so a brisk stroll will have to suffice.
“Of course I’m still a Sadler. I want to help Bren. But there are lots of good lawyers. Why do you need me?”
“We need absolute loyalty, total dedication, and someone who understands what’s really going on here.”
It’s a fair point. If you didn’t know about the magic, the family feuds didn’t make that much sense. Chances were that the circumstances of the murder didn’t either.
“Couldn’t you just—you know…” I wave my hand vaguely in the air to demonstrate my point. Couldn’t the familyjustmesmerise the entire prison staff into letting him go and forgetting this ever happened? Orjustblow a hole in the prison walls with the power of their minds and bust him out.Justsolve the problem with magic, essentially.
Mum understands my meaning all too well. “If we’d acted more quickly, then yes. We’d have dealt with this in the normal manner.”
Very few crimes are committed in Mannith to begin with—there’s little need when everything’s peaceful and plentiful and when a significant percentage of the population can achieve what they want with magic. When an incident does occur, my family and the other senior practitioner families tend to punish the perpetrator themselves if they’re an outsider; cover it up if they’re a member of the inner circle. And the few police who live in the town are firm Sadler loyalists.
“But?”
“But it was out of town police who came for Brendan, supported by a few Thornber scum. They struck while he was weak. And once they had him in the prison, it was too late.”
I frown. I’d forgotten about the fact that all major prisons and their staff are warded against practitioner attack, psychic or physical, internal or external. Some sort of covenant with the Crown, centuries ago, to ensure our kind couldn’t be entirely above the law.
In Mannith, and a few similar places controlled by other families, practitioners are a known fact. In most of the country—and indeed, the world—our existence, like that of vampires and all the rest, is much more secretive. But there have always been people at the top of society who are aware of us and have worked to put both polite agreements and protective measures in place. Ironically, it was the Sadler ancestors who agreed to arrange the wards in most of the local jails.
All that said, I’ve never represented a fellow practitioner, so I’m hazy on the details. “Do those weird old protections apply in the courts, too?”
“There’s some of the same sort of power in the air. But nowhere near as strong. We couldn’t just traverse him out of there or strike the case from the records. But in theory, we should be able to influence the judge and the jury or put ideas in the witnesses’ heads. Unfortunately, so can the other side—and Niall’s darling son has promised to block any magic we attempt and mesmerise the entire court into locking Brendan up for life.”
I shiver at the mention of the Thornber heir. Actually, physically shiver. It’s pathetic, but I do. I glance at the Fitbit again. It thinks I’m doing CrossFit.
“We need a lawyer who can’t be mesmerised themselves, and who can prevent that bastard from mesmerising the judge and the jury. Perhaps turn his magic back on him, too. Even Dad couldn’t manage that. Not against Gabriel-fucking-Thornber.”
The whole family call him that whenever they have cause to refer to him. Gabriel-fucking-Thornber, like it’s a double-barrelled name.
“Mum, you make it sound like I can block his magic where others can’t because I’m some amazing practitioner. You know full well the only reason I can stand up to him is because we made a deal. If I come back, he’s going to collect.”
I pull out the mirror I keep in my pocket for just this purpose and check my irises. Despite my contact lenses, they’re a glowing orange. I lean against the balustrade, slam my eyes shut, and try to breathe. My temper is one of the less welcome inheritances from my father. If I don’t calm down, I risk channelling the physical manifestation of my rage into the earth and cracking the bridge in two. Already, waves are rising on the usually placid river.
“Brendan needs you, Sadie. And family always come first. Change your name, keep your new accent, Chrissie will sort out your face. You can just be our lawyer. No one needs to know you’re also our long-lost daughter. Just get up here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? When did this happen? The case won’t start for months. I’ve got a big trial down here.”
“Niall died on the fifteenth of June. Your brother was charged yesterday. The case starts in a fortnight. Things move fast in Mannith, as you well know. Someone else can take your other trial. We’ll sort the logistics.”
Bren’s my brother, he’s in trouble, and I’m the only one who can help him. Conversely, Bren gothimselfinto trouble, and I’ve helped him enough for one lifetime.
It’ll be nice to see my family again. But there are good reasons I never go home.
Technically, Gabriel could call in the lien at any point, no matter where I am in the world. But outside of the Dome, I’m harder to find, especially if I don’t work magic, and his powers hold less sway.
I don’t know why I’m even pretending to have this debate with myself. I might be able to resist mesmerism, but I’m a sucker for a bit of emotional blackmail.
THREE
MANNITH, YORKSHIRE—PRESENT DAY
