My voice came out oddly, and I tried to push the hood back but found that I could not.
"That is my cousin," I said.
"He is guilty," said the Huntsman.
"He cannot be. I have known him since we were children."
"He is. Judgment has been rendered, and so he shall--"
"No!" Calum leapt off his horse and ran forward. "If she says this is a mistake, then we cannot do this." He stood in front of Hamish, arms wide to shield him. "We'll send him to trial. If he is found guilty, then he will be subject to the Hunt's justice. I'll speak to the magistrate myself. Tell me what evidence I can give them and--"
Hamish lunged at Calum. I shouted a warning just as my cousin struck my lover in the back. I drove my mare forward, and Hamish stumbled away. I saw the dagger in his hands. I saw blood on the blade. Then the lead hound pounced, and Hamish went down beneath it. I wheeled my horse to see Calum facedown on the moor, blood pumping from his back, and I began to scream.
I woke still screaming. Screaming and shaking. Gabriel's arms were around me, his breath in my ear, whispering, "It's okay. You had a nightmare. It's all right now."
"Memory," I gasped, heart pounding. "I had a memory. Of another Matilda."
He pulled me against him as he sat up in bed, and I curled up on his lap, my heart hammering.
"So," I said when I could find my breath. "I screwed up a Hunt tonight. I doubted Johnson's guilt. And just in case I wasn't worried enough about that? Matilda sends me a memory of another incarnation of her who doubted. Who stopped a Hunt...and saw her Arawn murdered by their quarry."
"Ricky's fine."
I looked at him. "You know that's not what the vision means. It means I set free a guy who is guilty. Who might go on to hurt someone else."
Gabriel paused. Then he said, "I once successfully defended a man accused of killing his wife, who went on to kill his second wife three years later. I have also successfully defended a woman who I knew was not guilty...and she killed a young couple drunk driving two months later. Then, once, I failed to successfully defend a young man who I was quite certain was innocent, and while he was in prison awaiting his appeal, he was murdered by another inmate."
"The moral of the story being that people die, no matter what?"
"Or that I'm cursed, and people around me die more often than is the norm, so if anyone else does perish because of Johnson, you can blame me." He paused. "Also, you might want to be extra cautious yourself. Get an annual physical. Drive a little slower..."
"Never." I reached up and kissed him before backing off his lap. "Okay, maybe I'm overreacting."
"No, I would only suggest that Matilda isn't sending you memories. Those memories are yours, like a walk-in closet, filled with vignettes for every occasion. You are worried about setting Johnson free, and so your subconscious selected a memory that confirmed your wor
st fears. If you hadn't doubted, you'd have remembered an instance where the Cwn Annwn were mistaken."
"So you think that's possible?"
"Let's see. In the last year, I've discovered I'm a manifestation of a legendary fae king from Welsh folklore, and my client's son is the Lord of the Otherworld, and my investigator is the Lady of the Hunt. Oh, also, my father is a hobgoblin who writes romance novels and my mother was an unholy bitch because she was corrupted by the living embodiment of darkness. At this moment, I believe anything is possible."
"I like 'unholy bitch.' That's progress."
"Yes, I'm learning to own my inner rage and resentment. In flashes. Very brief flashes."
I kissed him again, this time letting it stretch, my arms going around him as I crawled back onto his lap.
"You aren't asking me to distract you from the nightmare and help you sleep, are you?" he murmured between kisses.
"Possibly."
"I'm not very good at doing things for others. You know that, right?"
"I think you're getting quite good at it. But you can always use more practice."
Alan Nansen's wife--Heather--had retained a lawyer, but when Gabriel contacted her family again, they jumped at the chance to have him re-evaluate her case. As he'd said, they certainly could pay his bills. I'd run into her parents at fundraisers, and while they didn't travel in the "old money" circles of my family, they probably had a fatter bank account. Heather was their only child, and although the police seemed ill-inclined to charge her with anything, her parents felt impotent, and to them, the best way to support their daughter was to retain the best lawyer around, just in case.
For Gabriel to turn down their initial offer was a huge personal achievement. Fretful parents willing to throw gobs of money at him for a case that would likely never see charges laid. At one time, he'd have snatched it and found work to do, racking up billable hours, and then when the police decided against charging Heather, he'd have taken credit for it.