Protected
Chapter Eighteen
England
It was raining steadily when the plane landed, the sky overcast. Lucky for Angel, since the sun was obscured from view. He rarely flew. It wasn't safe. But occasionally, he would, only because he was required. He sprinted from the tarmac into the airport, just in case the sun decided to come out to play. Wesley and Connor, not quite as healed as the vampire, followed him. Mercy and Fred, discussing a childhood Wesley, walked even more slowly than the others. The airport was cold, the air conditioner running full blast. Fred shivered involuntarily. Wesley's face was ashen, memories of his last trip to merry, ol' England flashing into his mind. Images of Quentin Travers and his followers disapproving glares boring holes into his skull as they blamed him for Faith's mistakes. Then they fired him without a second thought. Mercy's own face held a brave, determined appearance, but in the depths of her blue eyes, fear-flecked amber dotted her irises. Connor's hand gripped hers as they walked to the baggage claim.
Mercy's eyes darted around the courtroom. She smoothed her knee-length blue skirt and held onto Connor like he was her life preserver. In a way, he was. He had a bruise on his left eye, a cast on his left arm, and several gashes including a split lipe from the battle. Wesley hadn't fared any better. His ribs were broken, his jaw broken, and he had a cut on his throat, parallel to his scar. That was the first thing Judge Carson, the two lawyers, and the Wyndam-Pryces noticed. Mercy felt hope fall right to the hardwood floors. They couldn't defend their injuries with "We were battling the First Evil to save the world" as their excuse. Wesley and Mercy were seated next to their attorney, James Oliver. Connor, Angel, and Fred took their seats behind them. The two attorneys gave their opening arguments. And then Wesley was called.
"State your name." Oliver started.
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."
"Age."
"27."
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, you are Mercy's brother?"
"Yes."
"In your own words, give us a brief descriptions of your childhood."
"Well, it wasn't all terrible. Sometimes, it was quite joyous, usually when I was with my sister and my mum."
"Were you happy, generally?"
"Not usually."
"Do you think that your sister is happy there?"
"No."
"Objection! Hearsay!" Duncun, the other lawyer, shouted out.
"Sustained."
"Do you think that you will be able care of your sister properly?"
"I do. I"ve always protected my little sister. I love her and I'd make sure she finishes out her teenage years responsibly."
"That's all." Oliver sat down. Duncun stood.
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, what is your previous place of employment?"
"I work for Angel Investigations."
"Before that."
Wesley hesitated, thinking quickly. "I worked for a research facility."
"Why are you no longer employed there?"
"My employers and I didn't see eye to eye on my last-project."
"So you quit?"
"No. They fired me."
"Mhm. You mentioned before, you work for Angel Investigations. Do you have a steady income to care for Mercy with?"
"Yes, I do."
"I see you're quite colorful today. Where did you get the bruises?"
"Objection! Irrelevant!" Oliver said.
"Overruled."
"I was investigating a case and I was sent to the bad part of Los Angeles. I was mugged."
"That doesn't sound safe."
"Mercy would not go on the cases with me. She would be attending high school."
"Where do you live?"
Wesley glanced at Angel, who nodded imperceptibly.
"The Hyperion Hotel. Angel owns it. It's also where our offices are."
"Is it a busy business?"
"The hotel isn't open for business. Connor, Angel, Fred, Mercy and I will be habiting the hotel, no one else."
"I'm finished now, Your Honor."
Judge Carson nodded.
Nicholas was called next.
"State your name."
"Nicholas Wyndam-Pryce."
"Your age."
"57."
Nicholas nodded politely to the baliff as he took his seat.
Duncun pretty much got straight to the point.
"Do you have the funds to care for your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Are you currently employed in a paying job?"
"Yes."
"Do you love your daughter?"
"Yes."
Duncun smiled, glad that Nicholas had answered each question with a straight-forward answers. Answers Oliver couldn't possibly use against him. He sat down as Oliver stood up.
"Do you have a good reason as to why Wesley should not care for Mercy?"
"He's just a boy, her irresponsible brother. We're her parents. We should raise her, Catherine and I."
"Have you ever beat your daughter?"
"Absolutely not."
Nicholas seemed indignant at even being asked that question.
"I discipline the girl a bit and suddenly I'm beating her."
Oliver nodded, deciding to stop there.
"I'd like to call Catherine Wyndam-Pryce."
Catherine stood and placed her hand on the Bible. She stared at her high heeled shoes, avoiding everyone's eyes.
"State your name."
"Catherine Wyndam-Pryce."
"Age."
"51."
Oliver smiled at her briefly.
"You care for your daughter..."
"Of course."
"Do you believe she should live with you or her brother?"
"I..." Her voice began to shake.
"I want Mercy to live with whom she desires. Let my daughter choose. She's capable of deciding for herself."
The green eyes of Catherine connected with her daughter. Then, they scanned over her son. She was giving them a way out. She wanted them to stay together, even if she had to face the consequences. Nicholas would be furious, but she would rather take his wrath than send Mercy back to the house to be punished continually by Nicholas. She wanted to let them go back to Los Angeles where Wesley could help the vampire with a soul and Mercy could flourish as a sorcerer. Mercy was smiling at her mother.
"No further questions."
Duncun motioned his hands. He didn't have any questions to ask Catherine. She'd done enough damage to the case.
Oliver put his hand on Mercy's shoulder.
"Mercy Wyndam-Pryce is next."
Mercy walked slowly to the stand. She glanced at Connor.
*Connor*
His head whipped around, searching for the voice. He figured out what was happening.
*Cool trick. You'll do great, Babe. I promise. Relax.*
Mercy smiled softly.
*I love you, Baby.*
*I love you, too, Connor.*
"State your full name and age."
"Mercy Wyndam-Pryce, 16."
"Place of birth."
"Bath, England."
Oliver started in with the tough questions.
"Has your father ever hurt you?"
"Numerous times, both mentally and physically."
"Did he ever beat you?"
"All the time."
"When did you go to Wesley?"
"He got angry, my father did. After he beat me, I booked passage to L.A. to meet my brother. Wesley insisted I stay with him, to keep me safe from my father."
"Did he keep you there against your will?"
"Oh, no. He offered to let me stay and I did. Wesley has always kept me safe, ever since we were little children. I want to stay with him. I want him to have custody of me. I don't want to go back to my dad or my mum. I love my mum, I really do."
Oliver smiled as he sat down. The next lawyer took his place.
"When you ran away, you had a fight with your father. What was it about?"
"Normal teenage issues with their parents."
"Define that."
"I wanted to take a dance class and he said I couldn't."
"So you ran?"
"No. I ran because he hit me one too many times."
"I don't think you understand what perjury is."
"I'm not lying." Mercy said it through clenched teeth.
"Aren't you though?"
"My father didn't like my new hobby. I went to class anyways. When I came home, Father was waiting. Yes, I disobeyed him, but I didn't deserve the beating I received. I had a black eye, my eye was swollen shut. I was cut and sore, luckily nothing was broken. I ran after that because I was tired of being attacked."
"So you don't think you should have been disciplined?"
"Not the way I was."
Mercy's gaze was hard, until it landed on Connor. Just seeing him made her heart constrict. He looked angry. He continued to glare at her father and alternately squeeze his hand into a fist and spread it out. She noticed Angel was panting, an unnecessary motion for him. His aura was becoming more and more orange.
*Connor! Get Angel out of here!*
*Why?*
*He's about to get all grr faced on us! I don't think that will go over well in the court.*
Connor glanced over at his dad. He tugged on Angel's arm and the two hurried out of the room. Mercy wrung her hands, then stopped, realizing it made her seem nervous. The lawyer was pacing. Wesley was silently wishing Lilah were there to help. Hell, he'd take Lindsey at this point. Finally, Duncun seemed satisfied with her answer. He obviously thought Mercy had knackered herself over. Wesley thought she did fine considering she had just perjured herself on the stand. Hopefully, her father wouldn't have a need to discount any of their testimonies. According to Oliver, they shouldn't do anything else. No more questions, no more people. The smugness of Duncun was leaving a distinct tension in the air. It wrapped over the small room, nearly suffocating Mercy. Her heart was pounding and she knew it would be a while until is slowed down to the comforting thump it usually portrayed. Judge Carson informed them that he would consider the matter in his chamber and they were dismissed.
Chapter Eighteen
England
It was raining steadily when the plane landed, the sky overcast. Lucky for Angel, since the sun was obscured from view. He rarely flew. It wasn't safe. But occasionally, he would, only because he was required. He sprinted from the tarmac into the airport, just in case the sun decided to come out to play. Wesley and Connor, not quite as healed as the vampire, followed him. Mercy and Fred, discussing a childhood Wesley, walked even more slowly than the others. The airport was cold, the air conditioner running full blast. Fred shivered involuntarily. Wesley's face was ashen, memories of his last trip to merry, ol' England flashing into his mind. Images of Quentin Travers and his followers disapproving glares boring holes into his skull as they blamed him for Faith's mistakes. Then they fired him without a second thought. Mercy's own face held a brave, determined appearance, but in the depths of her blue eyes, fear-flecked amber dotted her irises. Connor's hand gripped hers as they walked to the baggage claim.
Mercy's eyes darted around the courtroom. She smoothed her knee-length blue skirt and held onto Connor like he was her life preserver. In a way, he was. He had a bruise on his left eye, a cast on his left arm, and several gashes including a split lipe from the battle. Wesley hadn't fared any better. His ribs were broken, his jaw broken, and he had a cut on his throat, parallel to his scar. That was the first thing Judge Carson, the two lawyers, and the Wyndam-Pryces noticed. Mercy felt hope fall right to the hardwood floors. They couldn't defend their injuries with "We were battling the First Evil to save the world" as their excuse. Wesley and Mercy were seated next to their attorney, James Oliver. Connor, Angel, and Fred took their seats behind them. The two attorneys gave their opening arguments. And then Wesley was called.
"State your name." Oliver started.
"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."
"Age."
"27."
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, you are Mercy's brother?"
"Yes."
"In your own words, give us a brief descriptions of your childhood."
"Well, it wasn't all terrible. Sometimes, it was quite joyous, usually when I was with my sister and my mum."
"Were you happy, generally?"
"Not usually."
"Do you think that your sister is happy there?"
"No."
"Objection! Hearsay!" Duncun, the other lawyer, shouted out.
"Sustained."
"Do you think that you will be able care of your sister properly?"
"I do. I"ve always protected my little sister. I love her and I'd make sure she finishes out her teenage years responsibly."
"That's all." Oliver sat down. Duncun stood.
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, what is your previous place of employment?"
"I work for Angel Investigations."
"Before that."
Wesley hesitated, thinking quickly. "I worked for a research facility."
"Why are you no longer employed there?"
"My employers and I didn't see eye to eye on my last-project."
"So you quit?"
"No. They fired me."
"Mhm. You mentioned before, you work for Angel Investigations. Do you have a steady income to care for Mercy with?"
"Yes, I do."
"I see you're quite colorful today. Where did you get the bruises?"
"Objection! Irrelevant!" Oliver said.
"Overruled."
"I was investigating a case and I was sent to the bad part of Los Angeles. I was mugged."
"That doesn't sound safe."
"Mercy would not go on the cases with me. She would be attending high school."
"Where do you live?"
Wesley glanced at Angel, who nodded imperceptibly.
"The Hyperion Hotel. Angel owns it. It's also where our offices are."
"Is it a busy business?"
"The hotel isn't open for business. Connor, Angel, Fred, Mercy and I will be habiting the hotel, no one else."
"I'm finished now, Your Honor."
Judge Carson nodded.
Nicholas was called next.
"State your name."
"Nicholas Wyndam-Pryce."
"Your age."
"57."
Nicholas nodded politely to the baliff as he took his seat.
Duncun pretty much got straight to the point.
"Do you have the funds to care for your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Are you currently employed in a paying job?"
"Yes."
"Do you love your daughter?"
"Yes."
Duncun smiled, glad that Nicholas had answered each question with a straight-forward answers. Answers Oliver couldn't possibly use against him. He sat down as Oliver stood up.
"Do you have a good reason as to why Wesley should not care for Mercy?"
"He's just a boy, her irresponsible brother. We're her parents. We should raise her, Catherine and I."
"Have you ever beat your daughter?"
"Absolutely not."
Nicholas seemed indignant at even being asked that question.
"I discipline the girl a bit and suddenly I'm beating her."
Oliver nodded, deciding to stop there.
"I'd like to call Catherine Wyndam-Pryce."
Catherine stood and placed her hand on the Bible. She stared at her high heeled shoes, avoiding everyone's eyes.
"State your name."
"Catherine Wyndam-Pryce."
"Age."
"51."
Oliver smiled at her briefly.
"You care for your daughter..."
"Of course."
"Do you believe she should live with you or her brother?"
"I..." Her voice began to shake.
"I want Mercy to live with whom she desires. Let my daughter choose. She's capable of deciding for herself."
The green eyes of Catherine connected with her daughter. Then, they scanned over her son. She was giving them a way out. She wanted them to stay together, even if she had to face the consequences. Nicholas would be furious, but she would rather take his wrath than send Mercy back to the house to be punished continually by Nicholas. She wanted to let them go back to Los Angeles where Wesley could help the vampire with a soul and Mercy could flourish as a sorcerer. Mercy was smiling at her mother.
"No further questions."
Duncun motioned his hands. He didn't have any questions to ask Catherine. She'd done enough damage to the case.
Oliver put his hand on Mercy's shoulder.
"Mercy Wyndam-Pryce is next."
Mercy walked slowly to the stand. She glanced at Connor.
*Connor*
His head whipped around, searching for the voice. He figured out what was happening.
*Cool trick. You'll do great, Babe. I promise. Relax.*
Mercy smiled softly.
*I love you, Baby.*
*I love you, too, Connor.*
"State your full name and age."
"Mercy Wyndam-Pryce, 16."
"Place of birth."
"Bath, England."
Oliver started in with the tough questions.
"Has your father ever hurt you?"
"Numerous times, both mentally and physically."
"Did he ever beat you?"
"All the time."
"When did you go to Wesley?"
"He got angry, my father did. After he beat me, I booked passage to L.A. to meet my brother. Wesley insisted I stay with him, to keep me safe from my father."
"Did he keep you there against your will?"
"Oh, no. He offered to let me stay and I did. Wesley has always kept me safe, ever since we were little children. I want to stay with him. I want him to have custody of me. I don't want to go back to my dad or my mum. I love my mum, I really do."
Oliver smiled as he sat down. The next lawyer took his place.
"When you ran away, you had a fight with your father. What was it about?"
"Normal teenage issues with their parents."
"Define that."
"I wanted to take a dance class and he said I couldn't."
"So you ran?"
"No. I ran because he hit me one too many times."
"I don't think you understand what perjury is."
"I'm not lying." Mercy said it through clenched teeth.
"Aren't you though?"
"My father didn't like my new hobby. I went to class anyways. When I came home, Father was waiting. Yes, I disobeyed him, but I didn't deserve the beating I received. I had a black eye, my eye was swollen shut. I was cut and sore, luckily nothing was broken. I ran after that because I was tired of being attacked."
"So you don't think you should have been disciplined?"
"Not the way I was."
Mercy's gaze was hard, until it landed on Connor. Just seeing him made her heart constrict. He looked angry. He continued to glare at her father and alternately squeeze his hand into a fist and spread it out. She noticed Angel was panting, an unnecessary motion for him. His aura was becoming more and more orange.
*Connor! Get Angel out of here!*
*Why?*
*He's about to get all grr faced on us! I don't think that will go over well in the court.*
Connor glanced over at his dad. He tugged on Angel's arm and the two hurried out of the room. Mercy wrung her hands, then stopped, realizing it made her seem nervous. The lawyer was pacing. Wesley was silently wishing Lilah were there to help. Hell, he'd take Lindsey at this point. Finally, Duncun seemed satisfied with her answer. He obviously thought Mercy had knackered herself over. Wesley thought she did fine considering she had just perjured herself on the stand. Hopefully, her father wouldn't have a need to discount any of their testimonies. According to Oliver, they shouldn't do anything else. No more questions, no more people. The smugness of Duncun was leaving a distinct tension in the air. It wrapped over the small room, nearly suffocating Mercy. Her heart was pounding and she knew it would be a while until is slowed down to the comforting thump it usually portrayed. Judge Carson informed them that he would consider the matter in his chamber and they were dismissed.