Valor: The Custos Saga

by Jessica Tastet

She snuggled closer into his chest and didn’t answer. His gut clenched tightly as he breathed in uneasy. She was the only one he trusted. The only one who truly knew him—all sides of him and she didn’t run or try to change him. As a powerful seer, he counted on her to have the answers. Pauses meant to worry.

  “De future is not certain, but I will be ‘ere for you until you don’t want me to be.”

  He gripped her tighter, a little of the uneasiness unclenching. “Then you will be mine forever. I’ve told you this. This plan will work, I promise.”

  There were no other options. It had to work because he needed to escape his father, and this was the only way.

  She looked up at him, her eyes hopeful. She shifted herself and crawled over him until her face was even with his, before resting back on top of him.

  “Ya future is ‘appening now. You will get what ya want. I’m certain.”

  The rest of the uneasiness uncoiled. “No doubts, nothing you aren’t telling me?”

  She kissed him; her lips searching his.

  “Priestess Madame Lulu says so, and she’s never wrong.”

  A brief moment of intoxication flooded him. Relief. Satisfaction.

  He’d be successful. He’d finally get what he wanted. Madame Lulu was a powerful Voodoo priestess and Simone’s grandmother. Simone had trained under her, but Lulu was a force not to be screwed with. And thankfully for Cain, she was on his side- most of the time.

  He pulled her closer, feeling her warm, soft flesh against his own. “You know I want you right there with me, right?”

  She nodded and rubbed her fingers through his hair. His body responded again.

  Eight

  Angelica glanced up the street once again toward the cathedral and then back down at the row of colorful analogous looking buildings. This was the place. Lily had sketched a picture of the house with its thin poles and second floor ironwork on a page of the journal with the words “First Home” across the top in pencil shaded letters.

  The house appeared normal. Its yellow was faded only a shade or two, and the door appeared to have been repainted its evergreen shade recently. Its three stories rose above her from her place across the street and no sign of life appeared in any of its many windows.

  The journal ended with Lily living happily ever after here, but Angelica knew that the story had gone on after the fairytale ending. And the true end wouldn’t be found in a fairytale book, only Brother Grimm’s version.

  Angelica crossed the narrow street and walked right up to the door and knocked before she changed her mind.

  A tall, dark-haired gentleman swung the door open after a spell. His intense blue eyes stared her down, and Angelica squirmed and glanced back to her safe spot across the street that was now blocked by a white van crawling down the pavement.

  “Can I help you?”

  The door opened wider and Lysander stood to the stranger’s left. Angelica, taken back, lost her composure a moment. She recognized the panic seizing her and exhaled to release some of it.

  Lysander’s eyebrows dipped into confusion. “How did you find me?”

  Angelica swallowed and forced her lips into “the smile” as she referred to it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve come to see a Mr. John Landon.”

  There was a flicker through his blue-green eyes. A flicker of anger, maybe? She couldn’t tell, but a moment later his face relaxed and he grinned.

  “Now you’ve embarrassed me. Sorry for my rudeness, come on in.”

  The two gentlemen exchanged a look but stepped aside for her to enter a grand foyer. She brushed up against Lysander, hesitating in the middle of the move. Her brain said stop it. No conning here, just a simple search for information.

  She exhaled in an attempt to relax. “Is Mr. Landon busy?”

  The foyer’s twelve-foot ceilings were trimmed with intricately carved wooden moldings. The wood staircase rose before her with rounded banisters, and elaborately framed doorways lining either side of the sweeping ground floor of the stairs. A massive oil painting hung from the wall to her right. According to his hairstyle, spectacles, and suit, it was an older portrait, some ancestor too long ago to be living now. A vase of fragrant white magnolias was placed on a table to her left.

  She couldn’t see how this grand house was much different than Gram’s Georgia manor. What had made the place so comfortable for Lily?

  The stranger glanced at Lysander with a frown. “We’re actually all working on something right now. Was John expecting you?”

  It was the look that passed between the two that was telling. That steely edge to his voice backed it up. Her instant assessment was that his suspicions had been aroused. Suspicious people needed more convincing—a full-blown cover story that was bullet proof. She didn’t have that yet. Better to go with Plan B.

  “If this is an inconvenient time, I could come back later.”

  Lysander stepped forward, his eyes on her. She kept the smile. “If you want to wait, I don’t mind waiting with you.”

  A shorter gentleman with a whitish blonde receding hairline approached from the far corner of the house. “Wait with whom?”

  Lysander gave the gentleman a quick glance as though he weren’t important. “Griffen Jones meet Angelica, I’m sorry, I didn’t get a last name?”

  Angelica reached her hand out to meet his already outstretched one. “Angelica Acacia.”

  She turned to the stranger who was studying her still, his eyes like lasers. He hesitated, but then reached out. “Mark Bryant.”

  Griffen glanced in Lysander’s direction before returning his kind eye toward her. “How did you come to know Lysander?”

  She laughed, feeling the pressure of Mark’s eyes boring into her. “I met him at Gris Gris. He’s the friendliest face I’ve met since arriving yesterday.”

  A loud thump against a wooden surface erupted from a room to the left. The doorway was at a far angle so she couldn’t see what had made the noise. How many people were in this house? She hadn’t prepared for a large audience. The panic crept under her cool exterior shell and she could feel herself becoming jumpy.

  Mark pointed towards an opposite doorway. “How about we move this party into the study until Landon’s available?”

  At this, the three men glanced toward the doorway. Griffen’s face was the only one that didn’t wear a poker face expression, and his look of fear sent a sharp stab of heat through her center. What was in that room?

  Griffen motioned his arm toward the study. His freckles all seemed to scream that something was wrong. “Shall we, Angelica?”

  Angelica smiled, not at all confident in her ability to get out of this one. She was confident that she could open the door when she needed it, but not without giving herself away. “This is an amazing old home. I’ve heard it was once a hotel.”

  When in doubt, small talk always worked. As they all shuffled toward the study, Angelica peeked at the other doorway.

  She froze as the scene unwound, registering bit by bit in her conscious.

  A blonde girl stared at a floating vase. She’d never seen anyone else do this, and this caused a rampage of emotions to surge through her.

  Angelica’s protections evaporated and behind the blonde’s glare, Angelica felt anger ignite.

  Angelica glanced up at Mark as she felt him brush up against her back. A shock ran through her as she felt the pop of a firecracker as the woman’s anger boiled over.

  She looked back into the room to see the vase hurtling toward her.

  Everyone froze. The vase grew larger and larger.

  She heard someone yell but sound would not be distinguished through the tunnel she found herself in.

  Angelica could nearly feel the vase before she lifted her hand and froze it in mid flight.

  She released a breath of relief as it hung inches from her face. Her senses began to awaken, and she felt all their eyes on her.

  Her body began to tremble as she was watched in fear. Alarm bells vibrated through her a
s the room full of witnesses came into focus. Lysander looked down at her, expectantly.

  The tremors coursed through her. Lessons of her childhood screamed at her from her conscious. This ability was to be hidden at all times. It could be seen. The trembling reached her hands and panic seized control of her body. Who would they tell? Fear tore through her like a runaway car.

  The vase exploded spewing shards of glass everywhere. Hands flew up around the room in protection, and they tucked their heads under. Angelica sprinted toward the door, repelling the shards away from her.

  She waved the front oak door open with a switch of her wrist and darted out into the street. She ran breathlessly down Charters and ducked around the corner of St. Ann’s before slowing down.

  What had she done?

  Lily’s first rule of not getting caught was to never reveal an ability to strangers.

  Angelica forced herself to a walk at Royal, and she blended in with the small groups strolling down the street.

  She breathed deeply, her mind raced, and she scanned the area for followers. A balding man watched her from his lean to against a brick building.

  He didn’t glance away when their eyes met.

  Angelica continued walking, watching to see if he would follow her.

  He continued to lean against the building, but his eyes never moved from her. He wore a wrinkled suit and a black tie as if he were out of some bad spy movie.

  He didn’t follow her as she turned left down Royal. Just some curious tourist she supposed. She must be imagining it.

  It was the witnesses she’d left on Charters street that she needed to worry about.

  Nine

  The metal warehouse doors shuddered and announced Cain’s late arrival. He hardened himself and waited as Dark Knight approached him.

  The ceremonial candles lit the room as if spotlights erupted from the wicks, and Cain could see the twelve cloaked figures gathered in neat military style rows.

  They were the last to arrive of the New Orleans unit that had dwindled in the last five years. His father’s doing to be sure, as he’d scattered men to the far corners to enact some top-secret plan that no one gave any indication of knowing the details.

  Dark Knight stopped before him and crossed his arms against the red sash around his waist. “Discipline, Dark Soul Cain. You must learn the lesson of punctuality.”

  Cain gritted his teeth. He hated when this man, who’s real name was Kevin, spoke like some ancient Chinese philosopher. As a soldier, he understood discipline, but it was the archaic rituals, the robes, the candles, the chants, that he took issue with. They were a militia. That’s all. No one believed in the rituals anymore. It was their abilities that brought results, not some mumbo jumbo muttered above candlelight.

  “Our situation presents a problem at times. We do what we can. If punctuality is more important than our cover, please advise us as such.”

  Dark Knight stared down at him a moment, dislike evident in his blank eyes. Finally, he lifted a black glove and motioned for them to take their places in the lineup. Cain moved forward as well as the two behind him who’d remained quiet.

  The chanting began as they lined up, and Cain used the opportunity to look around the room. To escape his father, he’d need an army. A much smaller army than the hundred plus soldiers his father led as head of the Dark Soldiers, but he couldn’t be a threat to his father alone. He didn’t need to out number, he just needed to be smarter.

  Unfortunately, intelligence is what these sheep lacked. He’d narrowed his list down to two possibilities amongst this crowd by the time the chanting had ceased.

  With a wave of his hand, Dark Knight called the men to order.

  He barked out “Status updates” and the room silenced.

  “What have we learned about this Serena Landon, Cain?”

  Cain focused on the black stain on the concrete in front of him. “I believe she will be declared Valor due to circumstance. I don’t feel she’s powerful enough to be a threat.”

  “Still, she is a young woman of the age. Lord Reximortum will decide how to proceed. What of the other young woman?”

  Cain flinched. “She’s unknown. The threat has not been assessed yet.”

  Dark Knight’s eyes filled with fear like a balloon. Not surprising. He’d only heard the word threat.

  “Is she a threat to our plans?”

  “It is too early to speak with certainty.”

  Water dripped in the distance from within the warehouse as Dark Knight’s thoughts tick-tocked through his brain. With Reximortum’s visit, Dark Knight would need to prove his usefulness. It was the same with all the leaders, the appearance of action counted for more than meaningful action. Cain could feel gears clicking into place in his mind.

  “We will assign someone to gather intelligence.”

  Cain turned as the robed figure to his left cleared his throat. “I volunteer for the assignment, Sir.”

  “Falcon, you have not reached full Dark Soul status yet. Are you ready for this assignment?”

  Falcon’s head remained lowered, his face untouched by the licking flames. “I’ve learned much from our best men. I’m ready to prove myself.”

  Dark Knight studied him. Falcon did not twitch under the scrutiny. “Very well. Your assignment is to monitor the young lady and submit regular status reports.”

  Cain’s mind drifted as other status reports began. His father would return after two years away; an absence Cain hadn’t minded.

  Forgiveness was not something he’d allowed his father, and his father had come to hate the reminder that stood between them.

  Rex had taken away his mother, and he couldn’t bring himself to forgive the man responsible, his own father.

  At eleven years old he’d discovered a woman locked in the back building of their compound while hiding from Tom. Cain had taunted her for weeks: throwing rocks at the wood, pretending to unlock the door, and even dropping her food in the dirt. The woman hadn’t yelled or cried, although he’d tried real hard to make her do both. She’d look at him in this certain way that twisted his insides like the rocket ride he’d ridden at the festival. Within weeks, that guilt that gurgled in his belly had led to him swiping bread and grapes from the kitchen to annoy Tom. He’d listened to her talk about Gandhi and finding a better way. He’d asked her if she was trying to be like the old philosopher. Sadness had tugged at the corners of her smile.

  He didn’t know who she was. She hadn’t told him, and he hadn’t bothered to ask since there was always some prisoner.

  At a Dark Soldiers’ gathering, he’d hidden himself under a linen draped table within hearing distance. His greatest wish at the time was to be allowed to attend. He’d been thrilled when his father had stopped to have a conversation near his spot.

  A balding man had mumbled. “Have you taken care of the matter with your wife yet?”

  A silence had answered. Cain thought Rex was looking around for eavesdroppers, so he’d held extra still, holding his breath.

  Rex’s voice was low and detached. “She’s been captured and is being contained on the grounds. I’ll deal with her shortly.”

  “Good, good. We must be cautious if our aim is to be reached.”

  His entire body had frozen as his thoughts raced to grasp and hold onto those words. His father had only one wife. He’d badgered many tutors attempting to find out if his father had been honest about her abandonment. Only one woman was on the grounds that night.

  He’d had to wait an hour to escape the table. An hour where his own thoughts tortured him. After everyone had moved to the altar, he’d torn off down the property, his desperation for answers driving him. The guards hadn’t crossed his consumed mind.

  He’d reached her first though.

  The word mom had leapt from his throat from some deep place within. He’d thrown off the padlock, as she’d burst into tears. He’d landed upon her, and she’d cried harder. His heart had hurt in a way he’d never known it could.
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  The guard had yanked them apart, but not before her words had seared through him.

  I have always loved you, my baby. I never wanted to hurt you. I wish I’d been given another choice. Please forgive me.

  With those words and her death, all the hatred that had built inside of him settled onto the man responsible.

  A shudder echoed throughout the building as the warehouse doors closed, and Cain pulled himself back to the present.

  The man now approached. He was a slight man, with thinning black hair. His crystal blue eyes cut into everyone as he assessed each robed figure. Cain’s fist clenched again as his father’s eyes slid over him barely registering his presence.

  “Dark Knight, I’d appreciate an update.”

  Dark Knight faltered a moment. His fear wrinkling his forehead, but he then motioned for everyone to rise. “Meeting is dismissed.” His eyes met Cain’s and a sadistic spark lit them. “Would you like an update with your son as well?”

  Rex’s attention passed him over again. “No, I’ll discuss matters with him later. Our situation here is more immediate.”

  Rex and Dark Knight walked toward the door.

  Nothing had changed. He’d been dismissed long ago.

  Everyone was quiet as the two walked toward a back office area. The tension was so thick it draped the room like a thick New Orleans’ fog.

  As their backs disappeared behind the doors, a collective sigh went up around the room.

  “Did you know he was coming?” Alfred, a gentleman older than his father, asked.

  Cain shook his head. “I’m just a soldier.”

  Alfred regarded him in disbelief for a moment but then nodded concession.

  “Does that mean it’s going to happen here?” Echo asked with too much eagerness in his voice.

  No one responded, each concealing his own thoughts. None of them were thinking this was a good thing. The full moon was in a week, and the New Orleans Dark Soldiers weren’t ready for any kind of attack.

  “We should be chasing the book down not some legendary person we don’t even know exists.” Falcon’s tone indicated his disapproval. He’d need to watch that. This group wasn’t to be trusted.