Hi jaw jutted out in fury at being denied before a crowd which my presence here was meant to subdue, Sartorius refused to yield. Instead, he proved to what extent he would go to rebuild his reputation as one to be feared by jeopardizing the life of his most prized possession. Raising the dagger he had used to impale Cornelia, still coated with her blood, he placed it against Jocelyn’s neck and then leveled his eyes at me.
You son of a…
I glared steadily at him but I didn’t hesitate, immediately advancing the three paces it took to reach them, lifting my hand to her face and placing my palm against her cheek. It was easier than I thought, or than I wanted, drawn there by her eyes, the edge of Sartorius’ blade, and my desperate need to remove the space between us. At the very same time, her hands rose and settled against my face, and her touch sent a rush of exhilaration through me.
She felt the same because at the moment our skin met she whispered my name… “Jameson…,” she breathed and her melodic voice riveted me.
It was hushed, filled with sympathy, and it echoed through me, reminding me of my own ability.
It had been so long since I had channeled with anyone that it felt…surreal. But I was glad this reminder was with Jocelyn and no one else. It was intimate, and something I wouldn’t want to share with anyone but her.
“Jocelyn…” I whispered, making sure my lips did not move. Still, I sounded hoarse in my own mind.
She smiled, such a beautiful smile.
It had been nine weeks since we saw each other and the urge to be with her rapidly became uncontrollable. There was no stopping the flood of emotion pent up for so long, and it broke through with overwhelming force. Nothing, not The Sevens, nor the distance, could ever diminish the feelings I have for her. And this became obvious when the simple touch of our hands wasn’t enough. Not for me.
“Damn it all,” I said out loud, giving in, moving forward so eagerly our bodies stopped my motion. She gave me a perplexed look.
“I’m tired of being reserved,” I heard myself grumble before my lips came down on hers.
I suddenly became acutely aware of her hips against mine and the smell of flowers in her hair, the feel of her dress as it brushed across my forearm, but nothing dominated my senses more than the feel of her lips. They were soft and trembling with emotion until they grew impatient, wanting.
“You feel so good,” I thought.
“Jameson…,” she sighed, her voice thick with emotion in my head.
The audience faded away; there was no longer any murmur from the crowd as they observed us, no theater walls forming a temporary prison, no Vires on hand to control us, and no Sartorius watching with intent curiosity. There was only the feel of her touching me, her movement, her desire for me. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.
All the worry over her safety, the loneliness that had settled in the pit of my stomach and the fears that invaded my nightmares over what she was enduring…all of it was gone. In its place was Jocelyn, my sweet Jocelyn…
Suddenly, a lone voice brought a punctuated end to my reverie, one that had no business being here.
“Sartorius,” she called out, the distinctive curtness of Lacinda, our province’s Surveyor, carrying the point, while carefully keeping her tone submissive.
A second passed before his cane knocked against the floor, and Vires abruptly pulled us apart.
“Enough,” Sartorius instructed. “We will allow them contact.” He narrowed his eyes at us in warning. “Decent contact.”
After returning my concentration to Jocelyn, I noticed blood, mine, smeared across her chin. She was immune to it. I wiped it away as gently as I could, leaving my hand on her cheek, because I wasn’t done touching her yet…but then, I couldn’t imagine a time when I would be.
Her eyes softened, and a shallow pool of tears swelled behind her lower eyelid.
Her hand rose to my face, again pressing against my cheek.
“I knew it,” she said, channeling to keep our conversation private. And for the first time I realized that she might be having the same worries about my wellbeing as I had about hers.
“Stop,” I told her.
But she sobbed anyways, attempting to stifle it so that it became lodged in her throat. “What did they do to you?”
“Made me an example.”
“No…,” she sighed, her eyebrows crossing deeper in despair. The tears threatened to spill, something I didn’t want to see.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” she countered, her willful side emerging. I liked seeing it, even if she was using it to oppose me.
“We’re together,” I stated. “I’m fine.”
She understood my meaning immediately, which caused a staggered exhale.
“I’ve…,” she began but didn’t seem to be able to find the words to follow.
“Missed me,” I finished for her, owning the arrogance of that statement.
“No, missed is too shallow…I’ve ached for you, Jameson.”
My lips rose in a grin as much as the swelling would allow. “I know how that feels,” I said, my voice soft.
She met my smile with her own, that gorgeous lift of her hips that always takes my breath away, and I knew something with absolute clarity…
It was worth the beatings to see it again.
Sartorius shifted enough to redirect my attention, but only briefly. Weeks had passed since Jocelyn was ripped from my arms. I didn’t know what she had endured, how she was coping, or how to convey that I was looking for her, and I had little time to say it. So, I summed it up into one question.
“Where are they keeping you?” I asked, continuing to channel, attempting to call up her memories of her holding cell.
“Underground, surrounded by rock,” she said, and an image of bars made of stone formed in my mind. Just beyond that were jagged rock walls, which appeared to be damp. My initial reaction to this image was not a good one. To subdue me, she added, “They haven’t hurt me. I’m blindfolded whenever I leave, so I can’t be more specific.”
“Blindfolded?” I said, not making any effort to conceal my fury.
Her eyes softened once again, and she changed the subject. “You look…like this is the first time you’ve seen me.” She tipped her head into my hand, pressing against me, stirring my need for her again.
“In Olivia’s store?”
“You remember?”
“How could I forget? It was the day I fell in love.”
She nuzzled her cheek closer to my hand.
“Screw decent contact,” I growled, and reached for her.
Sartorius’ cane came up between us, pointing at me, threatening me.
Go ahead, I thought, and Jocelyn picked up on it.
“Jameson, no,” she urged and laid her hand delicately on my forearm. “Please don’t. I don’t think I could live through seeing you hurt again.” She stopped and shuddered as the image of my face materialized in my mind. It was fairly gruesome.
“It looks worse than it feels.”
Still, her eyes pleaded with me.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I blurted, and had to check myself to ensure I had channeled it. My lips hadn’t moved, and neither did Sartorius, so I deduced that I had.
“Not yet,” she replied hastily.
“Tonight, Jocelyn. Right now.”
“No,” she insisted, and I couldn’t understand her resistance. Then she added, “There are others with me, and I won’t leave them.”
“I’ll get them out. I promise.”
As if she hadn’t heard me, she replied, “Kalisha is there. She knows the future, Jameson. She’s read the records.”
“That’s good news. We’ll get to her. I promise.”
Again, she flatly ignored me. “Maggie Tanner is there, too.”
I paused, stunned by her words. “Maggie Tanner from the academy?” I couldn’t digest that news right now, both because it wasn’t immediately important to getting
Jocelyn to safety and because it seemed improbable. “Why would The Sevens imprison her?”
A movement came into view from my left, rapidly approaching us. Jocelyn saw it coming too and braced against the motion, but it didn’t deter her. “I love you-” she said quickly as she was yanked away and our channel was broken. Still, in Jocelyn’s ever defiant manner, she finished her thought verbally, unwilling to be deterred. It came out in the same compassionate tone and haste that she had been using. “Incantatio Sana.”
“That’s quite enough, I should say.” The same sharp voice that unfairly ended my intimacy with Jocelyn earlier interrupted us again, as its owner began edging between Jocelyn and me.
Jocelyn’s eyes tore from mine as she was jerked roughly to the side, and I stepped forward angling my strike at the person who now held her. That single, fluid motion did two things. It was effortless enough to make me realize that while I was attempting to seek answers from Jocelyn, she had given me back my health. The searing heat from my broken rib was gone, the blood no longer seeped from my wounds, I could see clearly through my eye again, and the loosened tooth was no longer dangling. In short, I felt strong again. Unfortunately, my lunge toward Jocelyn’s captor also sent a squad of Vires down on me. I was thrust downward before being slammed hard against the floor, and soon I was looking up from the cool concrete slab flattened against my stomach. Ignoring the sensation left by a foot digging into my back, I found the one I had been attacking stooping down, her almond-shaped eyes watching me with intrigue.
“Such virility, Nobilissss,” she said with a smirk.
“Surveyor,” I grunted.
“You remember,” she murmured, openly flattered.
“I remember you being restrained against a wall the last time I saw you,” I said stiffly, craning my neck upward to catch her expression.
Her smirk wavered. “Well, we’ll need to replace that last image with something more pleasurable.”
She had her hand still wrapped around Jocelyn’s forearm and I noticed her fingers beginning to squeeze tighter, forcing the color to drain from Jocelyn’s tender skin.
“Release her, Lacinda,” I commanded flatly, and to my surprise she lessened her grip, although I judged that it was more likely due to Sartorius.
The entertainment boring him now, he told her, “Retreat to the wings, Lacinda.”
She hesitated, her gaze finding its way back to me briefly. But she was a smart woman with years of experience under the suppression of The Sevens, while still rising through the ranks to become one of their most trusted confidantes. She knew her place, and how to keep from losing it. Snapping her hand aggressively away from Jocelyn’s arm, she did as she was told, wearing a snubbed expression as she found a spot to the side.
Now it was my turn to smirk.
Sartorius turned to the audience then and his voice rose until it echoed off the walls, ensuring all could hear. “Those needing to be healed may now come forward. You will form a single line directly in front of the stage. Those who do not need care may leave. My Vires will show you how. You will do so quietly, without drawing attention, and you will leave in groups of no more than four.”
As the audience dispersed, some falling into line at the stage’s front edge, Sartorius gestured Jocelyn forward, as if he had done it many times before. That stoked the anger simmering in me and I felt my lips curl back. Only Jocelyn calmed me as I watched her gracefully take a seat in front of the line. There was no hurry to her pace, she seemed almost complacent, and it dawned on me why. Even though it was being commanded of her, she wanted to do this, to heal these people, because it was who she was. It was very likely the only peace she found while in the grip of Sartorius and his associates.
Throughout the process, Sartorius evaluated her closely. It was obvious that he was using her as a tool, showing the audience that no one was above him, not even the Relicuum. It was also clear that he was guaranteeing that her ability to heal had returned after she and I made contact.
But why now? I wondered while watching from where Sartorius left me, underneath someone’s boot. She was in his charge for nine weeks. What prompted him to need her abilities now?
Something’s coming. But what?
These thoughts lingered with me until the last person was healed, and I was unceremoniously yanked to my feet.
Lacinda immediately returned to Jocelyn’s side, and wrapped her fingers tightly around her arm.
“Come,” she commanded, and spun around to haul Jocelyn away. Evidently, Lacinda knew this drill well.
Halfway across the stage, she gave me a look and her expression flashed from a frown to lust, but her scowl had returned by the time she was facing forward again.
Once Jocelyn turned toward the back of the stage where I was being restrained, her eyes didn’t leave mine for a second. I was relieved to see there was no fear in hers, but there was sadness, and it pissed me off. Because of it I tried to send her a message, to soothe her, to prepare her.
I’m coming for you…
Tonight…
And then she was gone.
3
ERAN
TYPICAL MILITARY BARRACKS ENFORCE A LIGHTS-OUT period when troops are required to get some shut-eye to recuperate from the hard day of readying themselves and the base for war. This wasn’t the case with the Ministry. Men, women, and children trained at all hours, Vire officers held meetings even in the dead of night, and the base was always on full alert, with all units not actively doing something order to standby. This made my one-man, midnight missions a little challenging.
Every night I waited until my unit was asleep before getting out of bed and leaving the barracks. After nine weeks I knew the sleeping habits of every one of them, and could mentally check them off as they went comatose for the night. I followed the same routine tonight. The difference was, this time I had something concrete to look for.
If Jocelyn was locked inside a rock cell, there was a good chance she was underground. So that’s where I headed.
The corridors were busier tonight than usual; there was almost a palpable feeling of nervousness from those I evaded while hiding in deep doorways or circumventing down adjacent hallways. Some carried canvas bags similar to the ones used at Ms. Veilleux’s school, which obviously contained weapons used more commonly in our world. Others carried stacks of traditional weapons, choosing swords and daggers as their preferred method of offense.
I had no delusions that this was what the stockpiling was all about…an offensive move. I had watched The Sevens accumulate weapons for the last nine weeks, readying themselves for the invasion of our world and, subsequently, the rest of humanity.
And they were getting closer to the date of attack; the tension in the air forecasted it.
I made my way around several corners, descending at least five sets of stairs before finally reaching the bottom of the Ministry. Progressively, I noticed the walls turn from aged plaster to brick and finally to stone, the pressure in my head increasing with the steady decline. Finally, I reached the substructure that made up the Ministry. Here, a hallway, pockmarked with doors, stretched a hundred yards before coming to an end. I pulled out the tool I had formed from mess hall utensils and systematically worked my way down the hall, picking the lock of each door. Inside every one, I found a small armory, but no Jocelyn.
It wasn’t until I reached the second to last one that I finally got a clue.
That was when I heard the scream. It was blood-curdling and I could not discern whether it came from a man or a woman. It got me moving again, fast.
The noise was coming from the floor above, which I reasoned once I heard it again, this time intense enough to reverberate through the ministry walls.
Whatever was happening to her, it was…
My mind wouldn’t allow me to finish that thought. Instead, the clear, distinct words of revenge came to me.
I’ll kill them. Every last one of them.
The methods were already filtering through
my mind.
A third scream led me to a door on the floor above. Without hesitating, I breached the room, where I saw a knife poised over the bloodied body of a person strapped to a table. This I saw the instant I breached the room. I also caught sight of the Vire behind the door, preoccupied with another battered body. My left hand found the wrist of the Vire holding the knife at the same time as I thrust my right leg toward the other Vire now coming at me. My foot sent the one flailing backwards where he hit the wall with a thud. At the same time, I twisted the wrist I held and it cracked, releasing the knife from its grip. I caught it in midair and sent the blade into the gut of the Vire who had been holding it. The other Vire came at me again. The scuff of his feet behind me told me from which direction and at what pace. I swung around and swiped the blade across his throat just as his hand reached my neck. His fingers gave a slight squeeze and then fell away as the blood from his mortal wound spilled down his chest. The man clutched his neck, but the damage was done. He knew it, locking his eyes with mine as he dropped to his knees and tipped backwards while the life drained out of him.
I swung around and bent over the table, searching for the face beneath the layer of caked blood. Eyes stared back at me with a mixture of anticipation and recognition, blue in color, and, thankfully, not Jocelyn’s. Relief washed over me, but only for as long as it took me to become remorseful for feeling it while taking in this person’s injuries.
The nose and one ear had been removed. The Vire had evidently begun working on the right eye judging from the loss of its eyelid. The person’s skin was charred, remnants of an incantation that seared the outside of a person’s organs.
I could think of no other time in which the desire to be a healer had been stronger than this very moment.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Th-Th-Thib…”
“Take your time,” I said, although he didn’t seem to have much of it left.
He must have sensed it too because he forced the name from his lips, blood sputtering as he said it.
“Thibodeaux.”
The result of his effort sent him into a coughing fit, spraying more blood, which I didn’t fully register because my awareness was on his name.
Prophecy (Residue Series #4) Page 3
