Alpha by Rachel Vincent Page A

couldn’t drag her into this. She was already terrified of the council in general, and Malone in particular, and there was no way they’d let me sit with her while she testified. They probably wouldn’t even let me be in the same room. And on her own, she was too easy to intimidate.
    I couldn’t sacrifice her mental and emotional health, even for this.
    I shot a frustrated, helpless glance at my father, wondering if he knew what I was thinking, and he turned to Blackwell.
    â€œPaul, I can personally testify that our prisoner told us that a member of our own species blamed the thunderbird death on our Pride.”
    â€œYes, but did he actually name this informant?” Blackwell asked, looking both hopeful and grim.
    â€œNo, but the Flight later confirmed Malone’s identity to Faythe.”
    Blackwell frowned, and his forehead crinkled. And I knew what was coming before his mouth even opened. “I’m sorry, but he’s right. If you’re basing your charges on circumstantial evidence and uncorroborated secondhand information, we need to have this evidence and hearsay authenticated before it can be accepted.” Blackwell’s scowl deepened, as if the words tasted bad in his mouth. However, he would follow the letter of the law. It was his crutch in the face of uncertainmoral terrain, but it crippled him in the field of justice. “We have no choice but to proceed with the vote as scheduled.”

Seven
    I stood slowly, fear and anger warring inside me. I couldn’t make my hands unclench at my sides, but my voice and my face were under control. Even-tempered and respectful, at least from the outside. “Councilman Blackwell, please reconsider.”
    â€œYou no longer have the floor!” Mitchell snapped, glaring at me from across the room.
    â€œNeither do you.” When the first unruly tendril of my temper began to uncoil, I grasped at it desperately, trying to keep it in check. To keep my mouth from digging a hole my father couldn’t climb out of. I turned back to Blackwell, ignoring the complete outrage written in every line on Mitchell’s face. “Councilman, you know these charges have merit. You were there when the thunderbirds attacked. You know we’re telling the truth.”
    Blackwell’s gaze hardened beneath wiry gray eyebrows, and I realized I’d made a mistake, reasonable though my presentation was. I’d questioned his judgment in front of the entire council.
    â€œWhat I know,” Blackwell said, his creaky voicesteadier than I’d heard it in years, “is that you’ve had your say and I’ve made my decision. This council is not unmoved by impassioned pleas, but neither is it governed by them. If we don’t abide by our own rules, we will fall into chaos. Little better than the lawless warlords to our south. When you bring eyewitness testimony, we will hear it, and we’ll decide then whether or not to try Councilman Malone on the charges your Pride has brought forth. Do you understand?”
    I understood. I also understood what Blackwell was not saying—that he was sacrificing truth and justice to preserve order in a legal system he would no longer be in the position to enforce. For all his ideals, Blackwell was about to lose his position of authority, and if Malone was voted in with enough support, he would be able to completely restructure the council.
    By the time we came back with a thunderbird to testify—assuming that ever happened—Malone might simply refuse to hear the testimony. If he retained the support of all of his current allies, his power would be virtually limitless. He’d be more of a dictator than a council chair.
    Especially if Blackwell insisted on remaining neutral. By refusing to accept our evidence, he was creating the very monster he was trying to destroy. How could he not see that?
    But for the moment, there was nothing I could do. Nothing any of us could do,