The Vine Witch - Luanne G. Smith Page 0,59

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.

A moment later, out of breath yet relieved of the pressure like a newly opened bottle of champagne, she sobered and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. She could still smell Jean-Paul on her skin. She inhaled, feeling herself calm. With luck the scent would last the night so she might dream of him instead of the nightmare her life had become.

“You got to see your man in court?” The kohl smudges under Yvette’s eyes had turned to watercolor streaks of black across her cheeks.

“He’s my lawyer.”

The young woman sniffed, as if trying to catch his scent too. “That’s convenient. I’ll have to keep that in mind next time a lawyer comes to me

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