Were his powers growing? It happened, that much he knew, but his had stalled out sometime in his teens when he’d finally gotten a good handle on them, and he’d never had any sudden bursts like this since then.
Once he felt reasonably in control again, he climbed in his car and headed for the courthouse. Thanks to the strange events of the night before and this morning, he was, for the very first time in his career, very nearly late.
He hated being late.
Mina was perched on her bench, long legs crossed, her expression openly curious as she watched him stride down the aisle to where Pierce and Merrick were already seated, waiting for him. He flashed her a reassuring smile, but judging by the slight lift of her eyebrow, she didn’t buy it.
“Glad you could make it,” Pierce muttered, amusement lacing his tone. “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten The Call.”
“The call? What call?”
“You know.” Pierce waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Thecall. From the Guild.”
Just as they had when he’d first stepped out of his house, the emotions in the courtroom were starting to crowd him, which did not serve to improve his already less-than-sunny mood. “Don’t be ridiculous. There are thousands of Libra Supremes all across the country. The odds of me being chosen are almost nil. I just ran into a bit of traffic.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
Swallowing the urge to snarl at his partner, Cyrus pulled his notes from his briefcase for one last review of his closing arguments. They were rock solid, but if there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that there was no such thing as a slam dunk case. Not even one as painfully obvious as this one.
He knew the moment the Fishers entered the courtroom and took their spots behind him. If what he’d felt earlier had been a storm, this was a hurricane. Sadness, anger, and guilt all ramming his defenses with the force of a Cat five in October.
It was enough to knock the breath from his lungs and have him clinging to the table. Fighting back wave after wave was nearly impossible.
By the time the judge called for him to give his closing, he was nearly trembling from the effort of blocking everything out. But he stood and approached the jury box, the carefully selected words he’d written out just for this moment running like a recording in his head.
“Richard Compton is a fucking monster.”
A chorus of gasps rang out through the courtroom, so loud Sandra’s shouted “Objection!” was nearly lost under the din.
The banging of Judge Alderman’s gavel eventually calmed the room and he sent her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, your honor. It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not, counselor, unless you’d like to spend a few hours cooling off in a cage today.”
Accepting the rebuke with as much grace as he could muster, he turned back to the jury box and took a deep breath, steadying himself to deliver the closing arguments he’d worked so tirelessly on. “Richard Compton used these children. He used their money to fund his own addictions, and when they couldn’t pay, he used their bodies. And when Jenny Fisher decided she didn’t want to pay with her body, she paid with her life.”
The emotions he felt now were coming from the twelve men and women in front of him and he was too exhausted to fight it. Curiosity, righteous fury, and, unfortunately, a little doubt. It took what little strength he had left not to zero in on the doubt, to find those who could possibly for one second still think there was any possible way this man was innocent.
But picking on members of the jury was a sure way to earn himself a contempt charge. And to bring far more attention to himself than he needed. So he fought the urge and delivered the rest of his closing argument word for word as it had been written.
When he returned to his table, he could feel someone’s gaze on him, all but boring a hole into the back of his skull. Mina, most likely.
“You all right there, boss?” Pierce asked when he took his seat.
“I’m fine.”
“You just said what the rest of us were thinking. Almost worth a few hours in a cell, if you ask me.”
The gruff, fierce words were surprisingly effective at soothing his frayed nerves, so he sent Pierce a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Stacy Merrick simply watched him, those too-sharp eyes of hers narrowed as if she could read his mind if she tried hard enough. Which, now that he’d thought of it, wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She had never disclosed any psychic abilities during the hiring process, but then again, he hadn’t told anyone he was an empath, either.
Fuck.
He forced himself to ignore them both and pay attention during Sandra’s closing, making notes for his rebuttal. Thankfully, the rebuttal went much more smoothly than his initial remarks and less than two hours after they’d walked into the courtroom, they were dismissed, leaving their case in the hands of the jury.
Any thought of a quick escape to get himself together before he headed back to the office was thwarted by the Fishers. Mrs. Fisher, her eyes red-rimmed and watery, pleaded with him for some kind of reassurance.
“Do you think they’ll convict him?” she asked, her voice hoarse, no doubt from the endless tears she’d shed over the past several months.