The Vine Witch (Vine Witch #1)(45)

“Didn’t she say where she was going?”

“To be honest, she didn’t make much sense. She kept muttering about ‘that crazy man.’”

“What crazy man? Nettles? Bastien? Who?”

“I don’t know. She went into your workroom in the cellar, and when she came out she told me to take care of the place. I offered to bring her, but she said there was something she had to do, and then she headed for the footpath leading over the hill.”

Elena dropped into her chair and stared at the wall behind him as if dumbfounded by the account. A moment later, eyes back on him, she asked, “How confident are you that you can get me released?”

He set his pen down. “If I’m going to defend you, we must be completely honest with each other.” He leaned in closer and set his hand on hers again. “I’m going to do everything in my power to get you out of here, but if I fail you will have to remain until your trial, which could take months. The prosecution has indicated they wish to make an example with your arrest to show the community they’ve got the situation under control.”

“But they don’t. And if we fail later at trial, I proffer my neck before the guillotine for a crime I didn’t commit while the real killer goes free.”

He saw the truth take hold in its merciless way, yet she forced a brave face when he confirmed everything she’d said. It was then he realized she might doubt his abilities.

“I can try and find you another lawyer,” he said. “There must be someone who specializes in cases of the supernatural, if you’re not comfortable with me representing you, but I’d have to put the vineyard up as collateral for payment. I have no more money left, and no one to borrow from.” His uncle had said as much when he dropped him off at the hotel. Defend her if you like, but there will be no association with the law firm. Ever. The confrontation had bruised him harder than he’d thought. Cut loose of the family business, he was left as pocket-poor as any beggar on the street. If his flailing attempt to make wine didn’t improve, he was finished. And without Elena it never would.

“No, I want you,” she said. “Only you.”

Her words, as strong as any spell she could have conjured, rallied his confidence again. He picked up his pen, and they spent the remaining time together preparing for her court hearing. When they’d gone through all the charges and how he wished to proceed with her defense, he knocked on the door to alert the guard he was ready to leave. As the keys jangled in the lock, he slipped a tin of cigarettes and the box of allumettes from the kitchen drawer in her pocket.

“What is this?”

“Think of it as currency. At least in the city that’s how it worked. I assume it might be the same in a witch’s prison without access to your . . . ability.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, patting the tin and matches in her pocket. “Thank you for thinking of this.”

He wished then to embrace her, to feel her hair in his hands. They had only a moment left together. But already the door had opened, and she would soon be whisked to the courtroom.

“One more thing,” he said as the guard searched her basket of food for contraband one more time. “I’ve arranged to interview Gerda du Monde in the morning to get her account. I want to see for myself what she thinks of the charges. It’s possible Bastien was involved in something he shouldn’t have been that got him killed, something she might be able to shed some light on.”

Elena’s face tightened in concern as she nodded. “All right, but take care not to upset her. And see if you can learn anything more about those witch sisters I told you about. There’s something not right about them.”

And with that she was gone, and he felt once more the pinch of his shoes as he walked toward the courtroom.





CHAPTER TWENTY

Elena sank with her back against the wall, landing in a defeated slump on the floor. She’d maintained her composure in front of Jean-Paul, the judge, and even the guard who’d escorted her back to her cell, but now anger and frustration had frayed her resolve. Bail had been denied. She wasn’t getting out. She’d be stuck inside these walls for months. Trapped once more in Old Fox’s teeth. She dug her fingers in her hair and tugged at the roots until she wanted to scream.

“Doesn’t mean you’ll be convicted,” Yvette said.

The young woman chewed on an apricot and glanced expectantly at her from the opposite wall. She no longer made threats with her hairpin, but Elena couldn’t be sure if that was a permanent change or they’d merely struck a silent truce after she’d given away her basket of food.

“I can’t do this again.”

Yvette spit out a sliver of pit. “What’d they say in court?”

Sidra was better at keeping her thoughts from her face, but she looked up from cooing and petting the little sparrow perched on her bent knee, eager to hear.

“The prosecutor called me a deviant and said it would be a crime to release someone so dangerous onto the streets. Apparently the magistrate agreed.”

“You? A deviant?” Yvette’s mouth fell open. “Believe me, I know deviant, and the only thing weird about you is that missing toe of yours.”

Mortified, Elena quickly covered her bare feet with the hem of her skirt, proving the young woman’s point. The reaction elicited a chortle out of Sidra, whose gold and ivory teeth gleamed in a wide smile. It spread to Yvette, who giggled before falling over on her side in a fit of laughter. Finally Elena succumbed as well, chortling like a madwoman until tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.