The Helford Trials (Helford #3)

Chapter One

A/N:

This story used to be identified as the third installment of the Helford Series. However, after careful thought, I am instead making this more of a spin-off of the original story than an extension (thus also emphasizing that this installment is not necessary to read to enjoy the full series, as PG has a full ending).

This story takes place after the events in Playing God. Please read Toy Soldiers and Playing God before reading this story.

Thank you for being awesome, friends.

xo Riley

~*~

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I drawled as I gazed into the mirror at the gray suit I had selected for court, my old black one shoved into a trash bag since the moment after Caitie's funeral. I straightened my tie absentmindedly, too caught up in remembering a coffin that would always be empty, dread gripping at my chest. I cleared my throat. "I'm here. I'm going."

"That's not a very good reason," Meade pointed out, gazing up at me from where he was hanging upside-down from the hotel bed. He observed my expression through the mirror for a moment before pressing carefully, "Her funeral was only a month ago."

"Hers and Parker's," I responded instantly, probably helping my case not at all. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm not coping?"

"Well," Meade said, "you're not."

"And staying at a shooting range for hours at a time is your idea of healthy coping?"

Meade shrugged mildly, not seeing what I could see. His eyes were empty now, dull, emotionless. The last I had seen of life in them was the cold horror that had been reflected back at me when we watched Caitie burn.

"At least I'm trying to," Meade replied mildly, studying the pattern of the carpet-a hideous shade of blue, with flower-like white designs repeating in elaborate swirls throughout. Meade's eyes suddenly flashed up, meeting my gaze, as he challenged, "Are you?"

Normally, I would have at least taken the time to consider his inquiry. But we both knew the obvious answer, so I turned to look him straight in the eye and announced, "No."

Meade nodded like finally, this was something he could work with. Because, somehow, in the last few weeks, Meade and I have begun to understand each other. As if we both joined some secret club for people who had lost what meant all to them, and with the welcome care package came a Vulcan mind-meld.

In the last months since we had met, Meade and I were less like friends and more like reluctant teenagers paired for a science project. He loathed me at the beginning, which I realized after some new information that he disliked me primarily because Caitie chose to save my life over his brother's-and Meade's negative outward reactions in my favor was enough for me to keep him at arm's reach. He had been Caitie's friend, and Rian's ghost.

And then we had left Caitie and Valerie behind, and Meade made it into the open air and took a long breath, and then he had told me that he hoped I may one day forgive him for what we had to do next.

I did. And I didn't.

I guess my emotions weren't as subtle as I had intended them to be, because Meade was reading them off my face like they were written into the Rosetta Stone.

"For what it's worth, I think it's a bad idea, you going to these trials," Meade informed me honestly, leaning forward and looking at me like a disappointed parent. "Helford isn't as much of your business as you think it is."