Visci (Soul Cavern Series Book 2)

by Venessa Giunta

  Though that had been what her mom had told Jenny about her reasons, Jenny hadn’t really heard it in the same way she did just now from Helen. Hadn’t really seen it as a protection. Not for real.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe she did.”

  The campus sounds that came through her open car windows—students yelling across the quad as she drove past, music coming from dorm room windows—reminded Jenny of her abandoned studies in London. It was weird. She hadn’t thought of school in days. It’s been so long that the memory of her own campus seemed distant. Old.

  She sat at a crosswalk, waiting for the parade of students to go by. Her phone buzzed under her thigh.

  Jorge: Still on for coffee tomorrow?

  She tapped on the screen.

  Me: Yep. Not sure when yet. Likely late afternoon, at the earliest.

  Jorge: I’ll text you the address.

  Me: Thanks.

  Someone behind her honked. She’d almost missed a break in the long stream of students.

  Mecca stood outside her dorm building with the guy from the hospital. Will. As Jenny approached, she took advantage of the time to get a really good look at him.

  He looked a little older than them, maybe in his mid-twenties. Most everything about him seemed average: his height, his weight, his build, his wavy brown hair. Everything, anyway, except his eyes, which stared out of that ordinary, average face a bright, sea green.

  Mecca, beside him, leaned forward and back on a pair of crutches, a scowl on her face. His lips moved, and he broke into a lopsided grin. Jenny pulled up in time to hear Mecca say, “I don’t need them,” just like she had when they’d been six and Mecca’s dad insisted on training wheels for her bike.

  Jenny put the car in Park and got out. “Hey!” She and Mecca exchanged an immediate hug, the crutches trapped awkwardly between them.

  Will hiked a small duffel onto his shoulder. “Where do you want her bag?”

  “Back seat is fine.” The small breaking wave of relief in her was surprising until she realized that she’d been afraid Will would invite himself to this overnighter. She was happy he hadn’t.

  With Mecca settled into the passenger seat and goodbyes said, Jenny climbed into her side and started the car, realizing by the tightening in her chest that she was anxious. When she’d texted Mecca about staying over tonight, it had been with the intention of them talking about all the secrets. She hadn’t told Mecca that, of course. But that had been her reasoning.

  Now, though, she didn’t know how she’d bring it up. She didn’t know whether Mecca would welcome her honesty. Or whether Mecca would be honest in return.

  She was gonna vomit.

  They sat in silence as Jenny steered them off the campus grounds.

  “Do you want to get coffee? Daily Grind?”

  Mecca’s breathing shifted, getting shallow. She didn’t speak right away, and when Jenny looked over, her best friend’s features had all tightened and she’d paled.

  Oh shit.

  “I’m sorry!” She reached over, grabbed Mecca’s forearm, and gave it a squeeze. “I forgot that’s where it happened.” God, Jenny, you are an idiot.

  Mecca shook her head. “It’s okay.” Her voice barely came on her breath.

  “Let’s go straight to the house.” Jenny brought her hand back to the steering wheel, feeling like a horrible, horrible person.

  But that didn’t stop her from still wanting to know—very badly—why Mecca had been kidnapped to begin with.

  Chapter Six: Mecca

  Mecca hobbled into the walk-in pantry, in search of snacks, the ache in her leg a dull thud. Jenny had dumped her duffel upstairs as soon as they’d come in and was now rooting through the fridge.

  “Why won’t you use your crutches?” came her muffled voice. Her head was actually in the refrigerator.

  “I don’t need them. If I needed them, I’d use them.” She turned back to the shelves and grabbed a bag of tortilla chips from a high one. “This is kind of weird.”

  “What is?” Jenny asked.

  “This.” She snagged a few more things from the pantry and limped out again. “The last time we did this, we were in high school. Also, your mom never used to buy these.” She grinned and tossed a box of chocolate snack cakes onto the kitchen island.

  Jenny laughed. “Right? She waited until I was out of the house before she started buying the good stuff. Damn responsible parents.”

  They headed up, Jenny carrying all of their food, and Mecca trying to make sure she didn’t fall down the stairs. The leg was getting better, much faster than the doctors had expected. But she still found it frustrating as hell not to be able to move in the ways she was used to.

  “You should use your crutches.”

  “Oh my God, stop already. I don’t need them.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Because you’re such a spry young thing.”

  Mecca shot what she hoped was a harsh squint over her shoulder, but it only made Jenny laugh.

  As soon as they hit the room, Mecca straggled over to the bed and flopped onto it, arms spread. “Memories of carefree days!” She propped herself on her elbows and looked around the room at the band posters on the walls. She knew for a fact that at least three of them were of bands that Jenny didn’t even like. They were up because they made her parents crazy. “Your mom seriously didn’t change anything, did she?”

  “Why would she?” Jenny dumped her armful of chips, sweets, and drinks onto the dresser. “It’s my room.” She offered out a Coke, and Mecca sat up to take it. “What do you want to do?”

  “Tell me about London.” She desperately wanted to know why her Uncle Ken had gone out there. Or, rather, what he had gotten up to while he was there and what Jenny might have seen.

  When Mecca considered that Jenny might know about the Gift, terror stabbed through her belly, making it knot up. But behind the fear was the idea that she wouldn’t have to keep secrets anymore. And that felt like relief. Mecca wasn’t sure their friendship would survive the searing light of truth, but a part of her wanted to find out.

  They talked for quite a while about Jenny’s experiences at school in London and her social life there. She talked about going to a nightclub and being able to buy beer as a nineteen-year-old when she first arrived. They both agreed that was weird but cool.

  Three weeks ago, Mecca would have hung on every word. She’d never been anywhere in Europe. When she was a kid, they’d gone to Mexico once and taken a few cruises through the Caribbean, but that was as far from home as she’d ever gone.

  But now…

  Now, Mecca didn’t care about the nightlife or the boys or the campus.

  “I bet it surprised you when Uncle Ken showed up,” she said.

  Jenny had crammed one of the chocolate snack cakes into her mouth, so she nodded.

  “What happened with that?” Mecca pulled her feet onto the bed to sit cross-legged, but when an electric jolt sent stars bursting behind her eyelids, she decided that wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she shimmied back against the headboard and stretched her legs out in front of her.

  Jenny swallowed her giant mouthful of chocolate and said, “It was…weird.” She paused for a second and then rushed to add, “Not bad weird. Just weird weird.”

  I’ll bet. “Weird how?”

  Jenny stared at her, not speaking for a moment, her jaw moving as she chewed. Her brows had furrowed into a line over her hazel eyes. There was something Jenny wasn’t telling her. Something serious.

  Jenny swallowed and took a long breath. Finally, she said, “I know about Jivaja.”

  The pointed look that Jenny gave said that the word—Jivaja—was important, but Mecca had no idea why.

  Mecca shook her head. “Well…can you tell me? What does that even mean?”

  “Jivaja.” Jenny waved a hand at her. “What you are.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your Uncle Ken told…” Jenny looked around the room, thinking. “No, wai
t. Have you talked to him? To your dad?”

  A knot grew in her stomach. “No.”

  “That’s weird. I would have thought they’d have told you.”

  “Dad and I aren’t really talking right now.”

  Jenny’s gaze darted to her. “Really? Why not?”

  Why was everyone so interested in her damn relationship with her father? “Would you stop changing the subject? What is this thing you’re talking about? This Jiv…whatever.”

  “Your Uncle Ken didn’t know the name either. It’s what you are.”

  Mecca couldn’t keep from narrowing her eyes at her best friend. “What do you think I am?”

  Jenny sighed and averted her own gaze for a moment before she leaned forward and grabbed Mecca’s forearm in a gentle squeeze. “You can kill people by touching them.”

  Mecca jerked away. Of all the things to focus on… “I don’t have any idea what they told you, but—”

  “They didn’t have to tell me. I saw it.” Jenny drew her hand back and placed it in her lap. “Well, not your uncle, but another one like you. Her name is Noor.”

  Mecca stared. Another one? What does that mean? She realized she was shaking her head back and forth, slowly. But she didn’t have any words. Turning, she swung her feet off the bed and stood. “I can’t…”

  Jenny scrambled up and touched her arm again but drew back. Was she afraid now? That Mecca would kill her?

  The room felt tight and small. Hot. Stifling.

  “Mec, it’s okay.”

  “I should go.” Her skin vibrated with her discomfort.

  Jenny got directly in front of her, taking up her whole field of vision. “No, please don’t. Let’s just talk.”

  “You think I’m a murderer.” Mecca’s heart sank. How could she deal with her best friend thinking she went around killing people?

  But you do, don’t you?

  “What? No. Of course I don’t think you’re a murderer!” The surprise on Jenny’s face matched the surprise in her voice. “Don’t be dumb.”

  “You just said I kill people.”

  “No, I said you can kill people. Not the same.” A gentle smile spread across her lips. “I mean, I don’t understand how it works exactly, so I can’t really say what else you can do. But I feel like it’s a lot, at least from reading between the lines of what Noor said.”

  Mecca shook her head and stepped back. “Who is Noor again?”

  “The other Jivaja chick we met in London. Do you want the story? I mean…I already know, so we may as well talk about it.” She dropped onto the bed and patted the mattress beside her. “Here. Sit down.”

  The room wasn’t so tight anymore, but it was like everything was slipping away from her, like she couldn’t control what was happening. Jenny didn’t seem scared, and she didn’t seem to be really accusing Mecca of anything.

  Only because she doesn’t actually know.

  Mecca pushed the brain weasels aside and sat on the very edge of the bed. “Okay. What happened?”

  “Uncle Ken caught up with us in London. He told Mom we were in danger. It had something to do with what was happening to you.” Now Jenny did reach out again, and she grabbed Mecca’s hand.

  Part of Mecca wanted to jerk away. But a bigger part, the part that was terrified of Jenny hating her, held on for dear life.

  “Mom was a little bitchy to him.” She shrugged. “You know how Mom can be. But when we went back to the hotel—Uncle Ken was behind us, still trying to get her to let him help us—there was a guy.”

  “I thought Noor was a chick?”

  “She is. This is the guy she killed.”

  Her heart raced, and Mecca suddenly felt disoriented. “She killed him? You saw it?”

  “Sort of. We saw…the end.” Jenny’s words were slow, and she’d dropped to almost a whisper.

  “This is crazy.” Mecca stood again and paced in front of the bed. She had to make sense of it or else it was going to shove her right over the edge. “Keep going. Uncle Ken followed you, and then there was the guy.”

  Jenny watched her stomp back and forth for a moment before she continued. “Yeah, he was waiting for us in the lobby of our hotel. He wanted to talk to Mom. But it was when he left that…you know.”

  Mecca stopped in front of her. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Jenny’s eyes searched hers, and she gave a small nod. “The man left, and we were still in the lobby. Uncle Ken started acting really weird, looking around like he was trying to find something. He took off out of the hotel. Mom rushed after him and, of course, I did too. When I came around the corner…”

  When Jenny didn’t go on, Mecca felt like her skin would crawl right off her body. “What? When you came around the corner, what?”

  “When I came around the corner,” she began again, slowly, not looking at Mecca, “Noor stood between a car and the wall. The guy was on the ground in front of her, but…” She finally met Mecca’s gaze. “He was almost like a skeleton.”

  Mecca took a step back. And another.

  The memory of that same vision slammed into her mind, but of herself and Hayden in the Little Five Points parking lot.

  There was someone else. Someone not her dad or her uncle or her grandfather. Someone else.

  She didn’t know what to say. Or even how she felt.

  “That’s how we met Noor. We ended up back in the hotel room Mom had, and Noor explained some things about how…about what… Well, she told us that she—and Uncle Ken and, I assumed, you—are Jivaja. Uncle Ken was surprised by the name too. But that’s what you are.”

  Mecca shook her head. She couldn’t stop shaking her head. The whole idea that there was another one like her…more than one? It blew her mind.

  Mecca hobbled to the dresser where all the snacks sat, grabbed the second chocolate cake from Jenny’s package, and crammed the entire thing in her mouth. Her back to her best friend, she concentrated on chewing, on the hyper-sugary flavor, on anything to get her mind clear.

  Jenny didn’t speak again right away. The cake’s thick, waxy texture, and chocolatey goodness filled Mecca’s senses. She breathed through her nose and counted five breaths before she swallowed.

  Clarity by chocolate. The best sort of meditation.

  By the time she turned back to Jenny, she’d ridden out most of the surprise. “So what happened? What else did she tell you?”

  Jenny pushed a bit of blonde hair out of her face and pressed her lips together. Now she stood. “You’ve had this secret all our lives, right?”

  Heat flooded to Mecca’s face. This was her nightmare. She’d dreaded this moment since she discovered she had the Gift. “Yes, but—”

  “No, no.” Jenny closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand. “That isn’t an accusation. It’s an observation, is all. You’ve held this secret.”

  Mecca wasn’t sure where this was going. “Not all our lives. Since we were about ten, yes.”

  Jenny nodded. She looked away, over Mecca’s shoulder. Her entire body was tense, and sweat from her hands dampened Mecca’s.

  What was going on? “Are you mad?”

  Jenny’s gaze came back to her, surprise in her eyes. She gave a short, barking laugh. “No. No, not at all.” She dropped her gaze again.

  Mecca didn’t understand. She was relieved but confused. “Then what?”

  Jenny heaved a giant sigh. She met Mecca’s eyes again. “I’ve been holding a secret too.”

  “Okay, this is freaking me out now. You already came out as bi.” What else could there be?

  “Have you ever heard the term Visci?”

  The word slammed her like ice water on her face. Mecca pulled her hands from Jenny’s. No, more like she threw them down. “You are not about to tell me what I think you are.”

  And again, surprise touched Jenny’s eyes. “You’ve heard of Visci?”

  Mecca backed up until her ass ran into the dresser. A package of snack cakes fell to the ground.

  �
�Clearly, you have.” Jenny stepped toward her. “Whatever you’ve—”

  “Stop.” Mecca held up a hand, bile burning the back of her throat. “Stay there.”

  Jenny’s brow furrowed, and she frowned. “Mecca, I—”

  “Just stop. Stop moving. Stop talking. Just stop.”

  Jenny did.

  Mecca’s head fogged up and she couldn’t think. Only one sentence moved through her mind.

  Jenny is Visci.

  Chapter Seven: Claude

  Claude frowned at his computer screen. An email from Dr. Trieste, explaining another setback in the project they’d been working on for almost a decade. If the man weren’t so damned valuable, Claude would have killed him himself.

  A knock interrupted his anger. “Enter.”

  Salas stepped in and closed the door behind him. The tall man nodded his respect and said, “Carolyn Barron has come through the gate.” Claude shut his laptop down. He would let the email simmer for a bit as he considered his response.

  He stood and brushed off his sharply pressed slacks, though he knew there was nothing on them. “Bring a coffee tray and whatever else you think we should have as refreshments.”

  Salas gave a shallow bow and left the room.

  Claude glanced around the neat sitting room. It would be good enough to receive Carolyn in. She no longer had the expectations of the royal blood. Pity. Though he had to admit that her old brazenness seemed to be returning. He’d kept intermittent tabs on her over the decades and found that she’d fallen easily into the role of human housewife and mother. In a way, he was glad of that too. He had plans.

  He settled into one of the wingback chairs. He didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later, a sharp knock came at the door. He knew it was Carolyn herself. Salas would never knock in that manner.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Carolyn swept in, all purpose and drive. She still had the same immaculate style as always, though instead of the flowing skirts of their youth, she wore a deep green, well-tailored pantsuit with heeled boots. She’d already swished off her cape-like coat and laid it over the back of the matching chair opposite him.