Page 105 of Throwing Shade
“It was art,” she said.
“It was ego,” I shot back.
She screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it in the cup holder. “It was supposed to be my legacy. Something wondrous to outlive me. Isn’t that why people have kids?”
“Debatable, but having a child doesn’t generally involve murder.”
“I didn’t intend for him to die.”
“Manslaughter, then, not culpable homicide.”
“Could you—” She swore and briefly pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, then she jutted up her chin. “Do I get a trial, Counselor, or are you judge, jury, and executioner?”
I waved a hand at her, my shoulders tense. “Knock yourself out.”
“First of all, the man was paid to donate some of his magic. It had taken us months to find a Banim Shovavim, so when I had a willing participant, yeah, I took the opportunity to have him infuse his necromancy into the golem and see if it took. The test was successful, and the man was fine. Initially. But a couple hours later, he dropped dead of a massive heart attack. It might not have had anything to do with me.”
I shot her a skeptical look. “You can’t really believe that.”
“No.” She sighed. “I know I’m responsible and I have to live with it, but it was never my intention to callously disregard someone’s life.”
“Even if he was a BS?”
She crossed her arms. “Yes, Miriam.”
“Don’t get snotty. Five minutes ago you said I was ‘just a Sapien.’” I made the air quotes.
Her eyes flashed. “Are you mad because you think I look down on non-Ohrists or because the person who died was a Banim Shovavim like you? Would you be this angry if the victim was a vampire?”
I flinched, Lindsey’s final expression of heartbreak flashing in my mind’s eye. “Vampires aren’t human.”
“They still have sentience and reason and emotion.”
I smacked the wheel. “They’re monsters who prey on humanity. I watched one kill a perfectly innocent person the other night. Hell, Zev was ready to kill me because I refused to hand you over to him for your perceived betrayal.”
But Kirk had checked out the house first in case anyone was there to hurt his mom, and he’d been kind to her. My head pounded.
“Humans make perfectly good monsters all on their own.” Jude ran a hand over her broken fingers. “I never expected that I’d spend days in the dark in a semi-drugged haze, listening for every creak overhead that meant the psycho was coming back for another one of her ‘persuasive chats.’ And she’s a Sapien. So don’t for a second think that I underestimate them,” she said fiercely.
I’d put Sapiens at the bottom of the food chain, but even with magic, Jude had been at Diane’s mercy and I’d killed Lindsey, who was arguably stronger. I lived my life according to a black-and-white morality based on a legal ethical frame and a rigid viewpoint of human versus inhuman, but I was swimming in a sea of gray.
“I don’t know what to think or what to believe anymore,” I said.
Jude paused, fiddling with her splint. “Are we still friends?” she said in a quiet voice.
We crested a hill on Clark Drive, the downtown skyline a twinkling distant jewel. While so much in my life was murky, this choice, at least, was easy.
“Yes, dummy. We’re friends.”
Jude smiled and stuck out her uninjured hand. “Hi. I’m Jude. Long-time Ohrist, first-time dybbuk-enthralled.”
I took a hand off of the wheel and shook. “Miriam. My parents didn’t die in a car accident, they were murdered.”
Jude gasped and pressed my hand against her heart.
I gave her a watery smile and put my hand back on the wheel. “I’ve also hidden my magic ever since. I win.”
She paused, then shook her head. “That’s honorable mention at best.”
