Scales of truth, p.1
Scales of Truth, page 1
SCALES OF TRUTH
DRAKETHORN LEGAL™
BOOK TWO
ISABEL CAMPBELL
MICHAEL ANDERLE
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2024 LMBPN Publishing
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Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
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LMBPN® Publishing
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Version 1.00, May 2024
ebook ISBN: 979-8-88878-924-7
Print ISBN: 979-8-88878-925-4
THE SCALES OF TRUTH TEAM
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Christopher Gilliard
Veronica Stephan-Miller
Zacc Pelter
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Dorothy Lloyd
Peter Manis
Kelly O’Donnell
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If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Notes
Books from Isabel
Connect with the authors
Other LMBPN Publishing Books
Books By Michael Anderle
CHAPTER ONE
“The whole world changes in a blink of an eye. I cannot believe it. I was asleep one moment, I promise. I awoke, and everything was different. The Dragons have fled. I know not where they went to.”
—Excerpt from a letter by the unknown writer of The Dragon Codex History
Anastasia Drakethorn frowned at her phone.
Why the hell was her boss calling? He knew she’d taken a few days off. “It’s the least I can get after winning the last case they gave me,” she muttered. She decided not to answer it. The time was well past five P.M. anyway, and she was off work. He could send her an email.
Stacy’s sleek car shot through the countryside north of New York City. The winding road took her close to her destination, and with the sun sinking low on the horizon, she expected she would be out here all night. The pine trees lining the road darkened in the dying light, casting long shadows over the road. They were blurs as Stacy drove past.
She’d gotten a call from the Drakethorn estate’s butler earlier that day, who had asked if she might come for dinner. Stacy had been confused since her father would not be present, but she accepted, seeing no excuse to refuse. Besides, it had been two months since she last stepped foot in her family home, and she felt guilty.
The gates to the estate appeared out of the low light, entwined with ivy and reaching high above her head. Stacy slowed at the gate but did not have to hit the brakes. The wrought iron swung open silently, welcoming her home. She noticed the thin shimmering of wards in the air. They were the same as before, protecting the estate but allowing one who had the blood of Constantine Drakethorn to enter.
She met a valet at the front of the house and handed off her keys. She stood as he drove away, peering up at the mansion’s stone exterior. She still wore her work clothes—slacks, a blouse and blazer, and heels—but wished she’d had time to change. Think about that later, she told herself. She wanted to know why her father’s butler had called her here.
As her heels clicked on the cobblestone path to the front door, it opened, and Reginald Blackguard appeared. He appeared to be in his late fifties, but Stacy knew better. Most of the staff were far older than they appeared. His normally stoic face granted her a rare, gentle smile. “Miss Drakethorn, your return is a refreshing breeze through these old halls.”
Stacy smiled as she reached the door. “It’s good to see you, Reggie.” She’d been calling him that since she was a little girl, and though she insisted he call her “Stacy” like everyone else did, he refused. She was “Miss Drakethorn” or “Miss Anastasia” to him.
She turned so he could take her coat. He slid it off her arms and placed it on a hook inside the door. “I trust your journey was good?” Reginald asked.
Stacy turned. “Yes, but I’m famished. I smelled Esme’s marvelous cooking as soon as I reached the gate.”
Reginald’s knowing smile remained. “Ah, you always had a nose for her cooking. I remember you sneaking down at night when you were supposed to be in bed and stealing the pastries she meant for the morning.”
Stacy’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, Reggie. My nose for good food hasn’t gone away.” She linked her arm with his as she had done for years. He’d been like a grandfather to her growing up, though he and Khan appeared to be the same age by now. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
“We’ve been doing well here, Miss Anastasia.” He used what he deemed the less formal way of addressing her. “Holding the fort, as they say.”
It had been two months since her father, Khan Drakethorn, left his estate, saying he had business to deal with across the globe. Whatever that meant. Stacy had asked questions, but he’d insisted he would tell her later. He claimed telling her now could put her in danger. “But what about you, Dad? Won’t you be in danger?” she had asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he’d replied, eyes twinkling. “Remember, I am the great Red Dragon of old. I will be fine.”
Stacy had been less worried about his well-being and more concerned about all the secrecy. Khan made her promise she would not come looking for him and instead focus on growing her skills in magic and dedicating herself to her work as an attorney in the city.
Without Stacy’s old rival Leonard Dolos and his titan accomplice Victor Corbinelli stirring new trouble up for her, she’d had a relatively calm past few months. She had spent her downtime at Ethan’s shop, learning new spells and how to improve the ones she already knew.
She spent more time at her apartment than the estate because going between there and work was easier. She hoped to find an apartment closer to the estate and still within easy distance of work when her friend Amy returned from her family vacation. At first, she’d thought about having Amy move to her family estate with her, but she’d since reconsidered. Their own place would be better.
Stacy wanted to ensure Amy was safe. What better way than to have a witch for a roommate?
Stacy hadn’t quite accepted the knowledge that she might be a dragon shifter, too, since she couldn’t imagine herself in a body so large and magnificent.
It felt odd being at her family home without her father around. It was a reminder that one day, he would die, and she would be left to run the estate. She hated how it felt to think about that.
The sound of the valet entering the house behind her and Reginald interrupted her thoughts. He carried the luggage Stacy had packed, not knowing how long she would need to stay here. “I’ll take those,” Reginald told the valet. He hefted her suitcase with enough ease that Stacy wondered how strong he truly was. “I assume you would like to change before we eat,” Reginald remarked.
Stacy nodded, and Reginald brought her to her room, where he set her suitcase down and nodded. “See you downstairs, Miss Drakethorn.”
The dining room was aglow with soft candlelight when Stacy came downstairs wearing a simple sweater dress that made her feel more like the daughter and heir of the Drakethorn estate master and less like an accomplished attorney. She felt at home and wanted her manner of dress to reflect that.
The first thing she noticed was the impeccable table setting. When Reginald called asking her to come to the estate for dinner, Stacy had insisted she not sit in the dining room alone. If she came, they were all to join her.
“The staff does not dine in the…” Reginald had begun protesting, but Stacy had cut him off.
“I won’t sit there alone, and I’m coming to visit all of you, so I expect everyone to share a meal with me.”
The other staff members were awaiting her behind high-backed wooden chairs arranged around the table. She smiled at each of them, a rarity in her hectic life where she was used to a stoic disposition in the courtroom. Stacy noticed not only the beautiful table arrangement, full of old china and arcane-looking drinking goblets but also how orderly the whole house was when the staff oversaw the p lace, not only her father.
Two months ago, when Stacy dealt with Lenny sending a werewolf assassin after her, she had wondered why her father had sent the staff members away. She’d guessed they had all been given vacation time with their families, but now she wondered if they’d been gone for other reasons. Maybe their master, the Red Dragon, had given them tasks.
Stacy smothered a smile. She had not quite yet reconciled the hugeness and terrifying nature of her father’s dragon form with the Khan who enjoyed soap operas and takeout Chinese food. It was the same reconciling she had to do with juggling her two lives.
One existed in a cold, professional environment. Even her apartment felt more like an office than a home. However, the Drakethorn estate was warm and cozy and starkly contrasted with her city life. Here, she was surrounded by the ancient and archaic. In the courtroom, she was pressed to recall all the laws from the country’s earliest development to yesterday’s changes.
“Hello, everyone,” Stacy greeted those in the dining room. Esmerelda Fynnel, whom everyone called Esme, flew across the room, enveloping her in an embrace Stacy deemed motherly, though she’d never had a mother long enough to know what that was truly like. Esme was tall and willowy, but her hug felt big and warm. Her scent mingled with the aroma of the feast on the table, whispers of the woman’s true home, wherever that was.
“You must be famished, my dear! I’ve prepared something special for you.” Esme’s pleasant brown skin glowed in the candlelight, as did her dark eyes. Her coils of black hair sprung around her face, and she wore her usual garb. Layers of brown and green skirts with a hand-embroidered corset and an apron over it all.
Stacy noticed several special somethings on the table, not the least of which was a pile of pastries that made her mouth water. Throughout Stacy’s life, there hadn’t been a single meal Esme made that she hadn’t enjoyed. “I’ve been missing out, Esme. Thank you for cooking such a feast tonight.”
Esme waved a hand. “Don’t mention it, dearie. I love having an excuse to cook for someone other than these old bats.” She motioned to Reginald and the other man in the room.
Torin’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Don’t listen to old Esme. She’s only mad because I sneak my own herbs into her soup.”
“My soup is perfectly fine without your meddling!” Esme exclaimed.
Stacy laughed as Torin pulled her into a hug. “Good to see you again, Todd.” She’d called him that since she was little when she misheard “Torin” and called him “Todd” instead. He’d thought it was so funny that it stuck as a joke between them ever since.
His dark eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he leaned toward her, and a conspiratorial whisper reached her ear. “I did slip herbs into Esme’s soup, but when you eat it, don’t say a thing about how good the rosemary is.”
Stacy swatted him. “You should know as well as I do how perfect her cooking is before you slip your secret ingredients into it.”
As the estate groundskeeper and gardener, Torin had an affinity for everything that grew. More often than he should have, he brought it into the house, where both Esme and Reginald disapproved.
Reginald cleared his throat. “Shall we eat now?”
They sat at the long table and began passing the various dishes between them. Torin had brought his favorite wine and insisted on pouring Stacy a glass. “I bet you deserve this after all the hard work you do in the city. Your old man tells us how good you are in the courtroom.”
“Please refer to our master as Khan or Lord Drakethorn, not Anastasia’s ‘old man,’” Reginald cut in, glaring in the groundskeeper’s direction.
Stacy almost snorted at the use of “Lord Drakethorn” but kept her mouth shut, not wanting to undermine Reginald’s authority.
“Yes, please tell us what it’s like to be a great attorney in the city,” Esme spoke up as she dished desserts onto her plate. She’d always been one to eat dessert first and everything else after. “I’m sure you face many horrible people in court.”
Stacy wasn’t sure how much the staff knew about her difficulties with Lenny Dolos and the werewolf hitman he’d sent after her. Instead, she decided to tell them about the last big case she had worked on involving a property dispute over a section of old warehouses. It sounded dreadfully dull when she talked about it to people who never had to deal with such things, but the trio listened in rapt interest.
“We heard about what you did for the Shinnecock people,” Torin commented. “I imagine your opponents were unhappy with you. Those rich folk down there sure do like their fancy beach houses.”
Stacy cut through a steak. “I think they’ll live without an expansion.” Her eyes glittered. “The legacy of my father helped me in the courtroom.” She hoped they caught her meaning. She did not mean her last name and the weight it would have brought. She was simply Stacy Drake in the professional arena, not wanting to wield her true last name as a weapon when she had plenty of skill on her own to win cases for the less fortunate.
Esme nodded. “It’s that intuition of yours. You can gauge a room, I bet.”
“Exactly,” Stacy replied. It did not escape her notice how Reginald, Esme, and Torin glanced at one another as if they all had a secret they weren’t telling her.
“I know your father is very proud of the work you’ve done,” Reginald remarked, sincerity shining in his eyes. “He’s spoken of your growth at length and with pride.”
Stacy knew he meant this beyond her job as an attorney. No doubt, he’d heard of all she’d learned about her parents and the magic she had as a result of both.
Her mother Catherine Thorn’s witch heritage had led her to several journals her mom had written. She’d found a friend in a witch who lived in the city named Ethan and had been learning more from him. Occasionally, she visited an elder at the Shinnecock reservation who taught her stillness and meditation with the natural world around her. It was a stark contrast to her fast-moving life in the city.
Esme reached for Stacy’s hand. “My heart nearly jumped from my chest when your father told us what happened with the werewolf. You were wise to come here, knowing he would help you.”
So, Khan had told them. She wished he was here. She missed him, and she couldn’t get a hold of him without knowing where he’d gone. She had called several times but received no response. Perhaps he was flying around in dragon form. She imagined it was difficult for full-fledged dragons to answer the phone.
After they finished eating, Stacy stood. “Join me in the library, please. We can have after-dinner tea or coffee.”
“I don’t think that would be—” Reginald started, but Stacy shot him a look, then smiled.
“I would be honored to continue conversing with all three of you. If you leave me alone for too long, I’ll start feeling lonely in this big house.”
Her remarks made Esme and Torin beam. “I’ll get the coffee,” Esme offered.
Stacy went into the library with Reginald. Ancient tomes and artifacts lined the shelves that formed a labyrinth through the massive room. The air was heavy with the scent of leather and aged paper. The fire dancing in the hearth seemed new since none of the logs had disintegrated into ashes yet.
She sensed something magical in the house had started the fire. Either the house itself had done it, or one of the staff members had made it happen from the other room.
Stacy was charmed as she turned to the butler. “Thank you for having me here tonight, Reggie. I didn’t realize how much I needed this break until now.”
He squeezed her arm. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish.”
She was about to ask him why he’d requested she come here when Esme and Torin entered. She decided to question him later.
“We want to hear your version of the werewolf story,” Torin told her when the three of them were seated around the fire. Stacy remained standing since she’d been in an office chair the whole day. The fire was at her back, keeping her warm, and a cup of tea rested between her hands.
She told them how she had gone to Central Park to practice a shielding spell under the full moon and had been hit by a sniper in the bushes. This garnered a horrified gasp from Esme, who almost spilled her coffee. “I was fine,” Stacy assured her. “Obviously. It hit my shield. We ended up fighting for a while. It felt like forever. He was in his human form first but turned right before my eyes.”
