Visci (Soul Cavern Series Book 2)

by Venessa Giunta

  Had Mecca’s dad told her about Jenny and her mom?

  She had no idea about that either.

  Would this change their friendship?

  She hoped not. But there was no way of knowing.

  She found S609, Mecca’s room. The door stood closed, but she thought she heard voices inside. Had David come?

  Jenny knocked softly, opened the door, and peeked her head around.

  Mecca lay in bed with one leg outside the covers. It was encased in a gigantic, bright red cast. Her hair poked out at odd angles, looking a bit wild, and she wore one of those ever-so-stylish hospital gowns. When Mecca saw her, she jerked up straighter in bed and a grin broke out over her face.

  “Jenny!” She waved both her arms, motioning for Jenny to come in.

  The man sitting on the recliner next to Mecca’s bed stood. Jenny suddenly felt self-conscious. It hadn’t occurred to her that there might be a stranger here. The confident smile she tried for failed pretty miserably, she was sure. But she made her way to her best friend, relieved to see her, even if the guy made things awkward.

  When they hugged, the warmth was more than simply temperature. Jenny felt home, more so than she had in the last few days, since the plane had landed.

  Even though Mecca was Jivaja, and even if that might mean they were on opposite sides, she was still Jenny’s best friend. And that meant more than Visci or Jivaja.

  When she pulled back, she almost felt like herself again. “What the hell, Mec?” she said. “I leave the country for a few weeks, and you get yourself kidnapped?”

  Her best friend shrugged, a grin on her face. “Anything to get you home.”

  “Please,” the guy on the other side of the bed said, “take my seat.” His voice was soft and melodious. And he wasn’t ugly, either, with a pale complexion, curly brown hair, and eyes that reminded Jenny of Caribbean water. She gave Mecca a sidelong glance, brow raised.

  “Jenny, Will. Will, Jenny.”

  Will gave her a tiny bow.

  A bow.

  He motioned to his chair. “A pleasure to meet you, Jenny.”

  “Ditto,” she said, waving a hand. “You don’t have to give up your seat.”

  He beamed, and it twinkled in his eyes. “I’m happy to. I was about to step out, anyway. And that will give you two some privacy to catch up.”

  “Are you sure?” Jenny asked. He was already moving toward the door, so she guessed he was.

  “Absolutely,” he said. Then, to Mecca, “I will be back in a bit. Do you need anything?”

  “To get out of here.”

  From his almost exasperated sigh, this was a conversation they’d had already.

  Mecca rolled her eyes at him. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Very well,” he said. He gave Jenny a parting nod and stepped out.

  Jenny moved to the chair side of the bed and leaned in to Mecca. “Who is he?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t even explain it. I’ll tell you later. I’m so excited you’re home!” She tilted her head. “Wait. Why are you home?” Realization seemed to hit her in the forehead, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh! Your dad. I’m so, so sorry, Jen.”

  A slicing stab in the gut. She wished people would stop bringing up her dad. Every time, it sucker-punched her. She couldn’t say anything. Her throat had gone thick and tight.

  Mecca swiped away at a tear that slipped down her cheek. Her lips pursed, and she grabbed Jenny’s hand. Her fingers were warm.

  “I wish I could do something to bring him back. Or say something to help.”

  Jenny squeezed Mecca’s hand and sat on the edge. Now it was her turn to swipe at tears on her own cheek. She slid her wet hand along her jeans. “I can’t… Um.” She took a breath and blew it out. “The funeral was last weekend. Saturday.”

  “I’m sorry. They wouldn’t let me out. I should have been there.” Another tear swelled and spilled over, onto her cheek. “You were there for me.”

  For a second, Jenny thought she looked very much as she had when she was twelve and lost her mom.

  That death had been expected, even though it tore through all their hearts. Teresa Stone had been a second mom to Jenny. When she died of cancer, it was all Jenny could do to get through it. And for Mecca, of course, it had been worse.

  “You were there in my heart.” Mecca’s face swam in her vision. She willed herself not to cry and released Mecca’s hand. After shrugging off her leather jacket, she dropped it on the chair that Will left for her and looked at Mecca. She pointed to the bed. “Can I…?”

  Mecca’s face brightened, and she shifted over awkwardly. “I’ll make room.”

  Jenny fiddled with the side rail. “How do you put this thing down?” As she said that, she found the right lever, and the rail dropped.

  Jenny crawled onto the bed and laid on her side, curled toward Mecca.

  “I missed you,” Mecca said.

  “I missed you too.” She laid her head on Mecca’s shoulder and tried not to think of her dad. “Tell me about what happened.”

  Mecca’s breath stopped for a moment. “When?”

  Jenny raised her head. “What do you mean when? When you were kidnapped.”

  The relief on Mecca’s face wasn’t something Jenny expected.

  “What did you think I meant?”

  Mecca shook her head, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked a few too many times. “Nothing. I wasn’t following the conversation. Good drugs.” She gave a half-hearted grin.

  Mecca had been Jivaja all her life and never told Jenny. Now, it was hard not to see her with different eyes. With a different filter. It didn’t help that Mecca seemed to be keeping something from her. Jenny wondered if Mecca might be trying to decide whether to tell her about being Jivaja.

  “So there was a guy who attacked me in Little Five. We’d gone outside Brew-haha, in that crumbly old parking lot, you know?”

  Jenny rested her head again as she nodded.

  “And I… Well, I hurt him. Later in the week, I was walking through the Tunnel and these guys surrounded me and grabbed me.”

  Those things didn’t make much sense together. Jenny knew the Visci had taken Mecca. Was now the time to bring it up? She wished she could be sure. “Then what happened?”

  Mecca hesitated for a second before she said, “They must have knocked me out, because the next thing I knew, I woke up chained to a bed.”

  Jenny propped herself on her elbow. She hadn’t given much thought about what Mecca might have actually experienced while the Visci held her. A pang of guilt shot through her. “Chained to a bed? For real?”

  “For real.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No. Not any more than being abducted and held against your will would hurt anyone, I guess.” Mecca wouldn’t look directly at her.

  Jenny already knew why they took her, but she still wasn’t sure whether she should let Mecca know that she knew.

  But she sure as hell didn’t like playing these games, either. This was so much harder than she’d thought it would be.

  “How did you get away?”

  Mecca shrugged. “They were transporting me in a wheelchair, and I faked being hurt. When I could, I knocked the guy out and ran away.”

  There had to be more to it than that, but Jenny wasn’t going to say anything. She’d let Mecca have that way out. But she felt…fake. Like she was lying to her best friend.

  And she was, wasn’t she?

  But they’d both been lying to each other for a long time.

  “Is that how you broke your leg?”

  Another pause, barely a beat too long. “More or less.” Mecca sighed. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about that right now. Can we put it on hold til later?”

  “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “What was London like? How was it at the University of London?” Now she looked at Jenny. “Are they okay with you leaving in the middle of the term?”

  “They’re going to
have to be. My dad died. I’m not going to class for a while.”

  Mecca gave a slight cringe. “Yeah. Sorry. Why did I bring that up? I’m stupid.”

  Odd, melancholy emotions battled in her. Sadness, wariness, maybe a little bit of anger and more than a little bit of fear. It was strange inside her heart right now.

  “You’re not stupid,” she said. “It’s just weird right now. Everything.” As she stared at Mecca’s eyes, she willed her friend to say something, anything, that would tell Jenny it was okay bring up all the actual weirdness.

  But she didn’t. Mecca only looked away and nodded. “It really is.”

  Jenny sighed and laid her head back down.

  When Will came in, Jenny had perched on the side of the bed again, and they were discussing Jenny’s adventures into British academia, as well as Brit nightlife. They tapered off the discussion, and Jenny said her goodbyes, pulling her coat on and wrapping her thin scarf around her neck.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said, as she stepped out the door.

  As she rode the elevator, Jenny replayed the strange conversation. She and Mecca had been the closest, bestest of friends growing up. They’d told each other everything, from their very first crushes in fourth grade to when their periods started and then on to more difficult things—the death of Mecca’s mom and when Jenny had realized that she liked both girls and boys.

  Not being sure whether to talk to Mecca about Jivaja and Visci was foreign to her. Confusing. And she didn’t like it at all.

  Jenny’s own secret—being Visci—had been easier than this. She’d just not thought about it. It had never impacted their friendship one way or another. So it had been easy to keep.

  But this one—knowing Mecca’s secret—gnawed at her.

  Outside, the sun had risen high into the sky and cut some of the bitter chill that seeped into her through her brown leather jacket. When she stepped from under the hospital awning, Jenny paused and let the sunlight warm her face. She pulled in a deep breath, the icy air filling her lungs.

  She was glad for the nice day. She was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a whole lot of nice days coming up.

  As she walked to her car, someone called her name. “Jennifer Barron?”

  When she turned, two bundled figures approached, and she recognized both. The cemetery people. The guy and the taller of the two women. Her riveting green eyes gazed from a dark face with high cheekbones. She wore that bright cap again. He was big and solid-looking with kind eyes. They came to a stop in front of her.

  “Who are you?” Jenny asked, on her guard.

  The guy held his hands up, palms out. “Don’t worry. We’re friends.” He had a faint Spanish accent.

  “I don’t know you. That makes you not-friends. Why were you at my dad’s funeral?”

  “We were paying our respects,” the woman said. The man’s surprised, sidelong glance at her made Jenny even more wary.

  “That’s not what it seemed like at all. You were staring at my mom.” She pointed at the man. “And you were staring at me.”

  “Yes. True,” he said. “I’m Jorge Ramirez, and this is Helen Parkes.”

  Jenny glanced between them but said nothing. There was a strange scent of cinnamon in the crisp air. It reminded her of apple pie. More weird.

  Jorge continued. “We’re like you. Well, I am anyway. A hybrid.” He glanced at Helen, his movements broadcasting his nerves. The woman gave him a slight nod, and he looked back at Jenny. “Helen is a full blood. We wanted to talk to you about what’s happening here. With us. With hybrids, especially.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “I know all the words you used, but the way you’re using them doesn’t make sense.”

  Now he stared at her, looking dumbfounded.

  “You recognize you’re a hybrid, right?” Helen said. “Half human…?” The expectant look on her face finally made things click into place.

  “Holy shit.” She laughed out loud. So they were Visci. She had been right!

  They both took a tiny step back. Clearly, her excitement was unexpected. But how could she not be excited? She’d never met another Visci in her life besides her mom. Hell, she hadn’t even known others existed until a couple days ago. And now there were two. Right here! The wariness hovered below the surface, but she couldn’t help the need to ask a million questions.

  “Umm. Yeah,” Jorge said, obviously having no clue what was happening with her. Surely, he thought she was crazy.

  But the woman, Helen… She watched Jenny closely. “She kept you isolated, didn’t she? Your mom, I mean.” She had an accent. Caribbean, Jenny guessed. Everything is coming up Caribbean today.

  Jenny flushed. She must have seemed a backwoods hick to them. “No. Not isolated, really. But I’ve never met others before.”

  Jorge frowned. “I hate that now is the time you’re stepping into our community.” He smiled. “But I’m glad to meet you.”

  “Thanks,” Jenny said. She sort of wanted to crawl under her car, because she sounded like an idiot.

  Helen said, “We need to talk to you. We’re hoping you can help.”

  “Help? With what?” What could she possibly help them with?

  Jorge seemed to gather himself, and he glanced around the bright parking lot. “Let’s go somewhere else. There’s a Starbucks about a mile down, on the corner.”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  After getting drinks, they settled into the corner sitting area of the café, Jenny in a nubby-fabric armchair, Jorge at the end of a short sofa closest to her, and Helen beside him. The mocha with an extra shot warmed her hands after having stood outside in the cold.

  “You probably have a lot of questions,” Helen said as she pulled off her knit hat. Dozens of thin braids tumbled over her shoulders and halfway down her torso. “And we’re happy to answer them for you, but first, if we can, I’d like to tell you why we came up to you out of the blue.”

  “How did you even know I’m…” She dropped to a whisper but felt a bit ridiculous and melodramatic doing it. “Visci?”

  “Questions after, yeah?” Helen said, gently.

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” Jenny flushed. And then she flushed again because it annoyed her that she flushed in the first place. This wasn’t the first day of high school, and these people weren’t the cool kids.

  So why did she feel like they were?

  “I don’t have any idea what your mom has told you about Visci—”

  “Not much.” Jenny hated that it was the truth.

  Helen nodded. “There’s a lot of bad blood between fulls and hybrids right now.”

  “Fulls?” Jorge had used that term too.

  Jorge chimed in. “Full bloods. Like your mom. Like Helen too.”

  “Oh.” She should have figured that out. How about keep your mouth shut, Jen, and let them talk?

  “So all over the country, there’s been tension.” Helen had turned her body more toward Jenny as she spoke. “Even some outright fighting.”

  That made some sense to her. The Visci seemed to constitute an entire society, and societies have tensions. Look at the US. Plus, her mom had told her there was a lot of politics and manipulation, so what Helen was saying didn’t seem surprising.

  “Here, in Atlanta, we’ve found bodies.” Helen watched her closely.

  Those words shocked her. “Bodies?” Hard to kill.

  Helen nodded. “Almost all of them hybrids. A few fulls.”

  “People are saying it’s a civil war,” Jorge said. “That fulls are slaughtering hybrids. That it’s going to get a lot worse.”

  “But I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” Helen said, her voice level. “I think there’s something specific behind the deaths.”

  Jenny looked between them, trying to keep up. “Why?”

  Helen and Jorge shared a look. She said, “Because the two dead full bloods that I’ve seen have been women. That’s only here in Atlanta. Reports are in from others in surrounding
counties. Each jurisdiction also has one or two deaths. And all the fulls are women.”

  The first thing that popped into her head was “Visci serial killer?” That should have been far-fetched, but was it? “You said their ‘jurisdictions.’ Are you a cop?”

  “No,” Helen said. “I am a medical examiner in Fulton County.”

  Jenny’s surprise must have shown very clearly on her face because Jorge stifled a laugh. Not very well, either.

  “Sorry,” Jenny said to Helen. “You…don’t look old enough.”

  The other woman smiled for the first time since they’d approached her at the hospital. “You are very ignorant, aren’t you, little sister?” Her words were soft, even kind, but the truth of them still stung Jenny deeply.

  She changed the subject. “So how are they being killed? By one person?”

  Helen set her paper coffee cup on the small table in front of them. “As I said, the dead fulls are women. Hybrids seem to be both men and women, so my instinct is to say that it isn’t a single person.”

  “And there are a lot more hybrids dying than fulls,” Jorge added.

  “How many is a lot?”

  “Almost two dozen since the spring,” Helen said. “The bigger puzzle is that they had no obvious cause of death. And by that, I mean there are no external wounds.”

  Jenny considered for a moment.

  “We don’t die easily,” Helen said, her tone flat.

  Hard to kill. That was one thing that had already been covered.

  “Disease doesn’t hurt us. Well, hardly ever. We don’t get cancer or anything like that. Especially as full bloods, our powers of healing happen so quickly that the only real way we can die is if there is massive bodily harm that is so devastating that the wounds overtake the healing.” She tilted her head a bit and grinned. “In case you didn’t know that.”

  “I did. Thanks.” She really didn’t. But Jenny was tired of feeling like the backwater country cousin. “So no heads chopped off or stakes through the heart. How did they die?”

  Helen waited a beat and said, “It’s unclear.”

  Jenny nodded. “Okay. Are you sure they’re even related? The full and hybrid deaths, I mean.”

  They exchanged another glance that told her they hadn’t considered that at all. That made her feel a little less like an outsider. “What do you want from me? You have access to the medical examiner’s office and could report it to the cops. I’m only a college student.”