Free Magic Rising by Camilla Chafer Page A

reciprocated. Really, they couldn’t have made a stranger pair. She, a tall and glamorous witch, he a full-blooded demon with a flair for impeccable dressing. Actually, now I thought of it, despite the differences in their races, they were a lot alike. “Apparently, he’s indisposed,” I finished with a shrug that was far too casual. Did indisposed mean he couldn’t help? Or couldn’t come? And how did that fit into not even being able to make a phone call to me? Even though he’d obviously been able to reach Micah long enough to persuade him to help me.
    “And what is it you plan on doing to help?” Etoile paused, waiting. “You are planning on helping?” she asked, giving Micah a prod in the ribs. He took her in from head to toe, but didn’t say anything as he turned back to the coffee.
    We looked at him expectantly, the silence growing until it felt like the elephant in the room.
    “He told me he wasn’t going to do anything,” I told Etoile, taking the mug from Micah. I sipped it, found it too hot and cooled it instantly with a simple pulse of magic.
    “I can’t interfere with the trial if there is one,” Micah said finally, passing the second mug to Etoile. He looked at me, “But I will ensure your safety during. Think of me as a bodyguard, but without a romantic back story or singing.”
    “Why would I need a bodyguard?” I took another sip. It needed sweetening. I held my hand out, ready for the bottle of vanilla syrup that flew out of the cabinet, and straight into my waiting palm. I added a small measure, then thought, why not? And added a liberal dose. Etoile held her mug towards me and I poured. “Micah?” I offered the syrup to him.
    “Do I look sweet?” he scowled.
    “Don’t answer, Etoile. He’ll throw a tantrum,” I teased, trying to bring a little levity to our situation as Etoile opened her mouth, a reply ready for him. She shut it and smiled. “So? Why do I need a bodyguard?” I pressed. “I’ve been indicted, not attacked.”
    “In case someone intends to murder you, of course,” he said, like it was something we should have thought of already.
    “Oh great.” I took a long sip of the warm, sweet, coffee, hoping it would wash away the bitterness in my throat. I hoped Evan hadn’t phrased it exactly like that when he issued his instructions to Micah. “Today is looking up already.” I moved away just as it occurred to Etoile to ask how he broke through her apartment’s wards.
    ~
    Last night, when I went to bed, I’d fallen asleep with the innocent hope that Steven would find out that the whole idea of putting me on trial was a farce; or, failing that, a miraculous loophole would set me free. If Micah’s portentous admission of being sent to guard me wasn’t enough, one look at Steven’s face as he arrived for breakfast slammed my hopes into another universe.
    “I wish I had better news,” Steven told us, after carefully looking over Micah, but not commenting on the demon’s presence. If Steven were curious, he didn’t show it. “It seems this is all perfectly legal.”
    “I thought the Council dealt with this a year ago,” said Etoile. The blue silk robe was exchanged for a sombre, black skirt suit and a cream shell top making her look every bit as efficient and prepared as Steven. “They interviewed us. They knew then there was no case to bring. Why bring a suit against Stella now?”
    “Quite, my dear. It seems a complaint was made and upheld. I have to say, I knew nothing about this at all,” Steven added as I placed a coffee mug in front of him. “The whole thing has been very hush-hush.”
    “Who would make a complaint?” I asked. I took the chair opposite him at Etoile‘s dining table. Etoile took the middle chair, placing herself between us. Micah looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, although he did pick up a chair, and move it two feet backwards before stretching out leisurely, like a cat.
    “Marc Bartholomew is still a possibility,”