Prophecy (Residue Series #4)

by Falter, Laury

  I took a quick look at Isabella. She met my eyes and I knew she was thinking the same thing as me.

  “What?” Jocelyn asked, having seen the glance between me and her mother.

  “You figured it out, didn’t you?” Isabella asked.

  I nodded and the stark, painful feeling of betraying Jocelyn settled over me.

  “You figured what out?” Jocelyn demanded. “I’m not following you two at all!”

  “Neither am I,” added Maggie, as Eran crossed his arms preparing to wait for an explanation.

  I condensed it as best I could, starting from the beginning. “Sartorius brought Jocelyn and me together in the theater because it was time to put his plan into action.”

  “What plan?” Jocelyn pressed.

  “The plan designed to allow you two to escape.”

  “Escape?” Maggie demanded, glancing at Jocelyn, who was just as baffled.

  “Yes…escape. That’s why he sent Stalwart, a Vire whose position it is to transport prisoners. In this instance it was Jocelyn and Maggie who he was transporting. And it’s why we met no resistance leaving the Ministry.”

  “But why? Why would he let us all go?” Jocelyn asked, shaking her head as if it made no sense. But it did.

  “Sartorius is always several steps ahead. He knows that once The Sevens start dying off, they’ll see you, Jocelyn, as too great a threat to keep alive. Your life would have been ended by the second Seven’s death.”

  “And why would he think The Sevens were going to start dying off?” Spencer, the intellectual of the Weatherford siblings, asked.

  “Well, that’s where Maggie comes in,” Eran commented, piecing it together. “He let her go so that she could kill the rest of them.”

  Maggie sighed, deep in thought. “So Sartorius has figured out that I’m the only one who knows how….”

  “All he had to do,” I summarized, “was make us touch, and he knew I’d find where you were hidden, setting his plan into action.”

  Maggie shook her head doubtfully. “Wait…wait. He could have just released us. Why the charade?”

  “And that’s where I come in,” I explained, and then chuckled at the grace of his plan. “He had to make it look real. He needed a scapegoat, someone to take the blame for the escape, and that was me. It’s the only reason he allowed me to stay at the Ministry in the first place. He knew I was looking for you. Isabella knew this,” I said tilting my head in her direction. “It’s the only reason Isabella didn’t invade the Ministry to get you. Having lived with Sartorius, analyzing his manners, his strategies for nearly twenty years, she knew he’d take this tack.” She had been quietly observing the realizations transpire, but now gradually raised her lips in a shrewd smile. “If we had gone in chaotic, tumultuous, you would have died before we reached you. Isabella knew it, I knew it, Sartorius knew it.”

  “So you’re saying…,” Nolan ventured, “Sartorius helped us.”

  “The Sevens don’t help anyone but themselves,” Maggie muttered.

  “He’s saying,” Charlotte chimed in with her typically snide tone, “Sartorius wants the rest of The Sevens dead so his oligarchy would become a dictatorship.” Her eyes landed back on me and she demanded, “What are you gonna do about that?”

  “Well…” I observed the room for their reactions as I made my next statement. “We’re going to take advantage of the opportunity he’s given us and bring down the others, once we know when and where to find them.”

  On her cue, Isabella left without acknowledging us again. She was a woman of few words, but diligent in the execution of her duties, and I knew she’d bring back news of The Sevens future whereabouts one way or another.

  When the door closed no one spoke, the gravity of our situation weighing on each of us.

  Charlotte, whose innate character welcomes conflict and allows her to overcome it quicker than most, put our situation into terms I wouldn’t have initially thought of. But she was correct.

  “So…we’re partnering with Sartorius,” she concluded, and after some thought I nodded.

  “Yes, Charlotte. Yes, we are.”

  10

  REFUGE

  I HADN’T EATEN OR SLEPT IN more than twenty four hours but when the discussion came up about where Jocelyn and I would sleep, it left me more than just a little aroused. We hadn’t been in a bedroom together since the DeVilles, so after the question came up, I had trouble keeping my eyes off her. The smoothness of her skin, the curl of her hair down her back, the attentiveness in her concentration, the simple nearness of her, teased me without mercy. She didn’t seem fazed by it at all, though, as she listened intently to the conversation.

  “We live at the only purple and pink Victorian two-story house on Magazine Street,” Eran informed the room as we prepared to leave. “If you’re looking for us, you can’t miss it.”

  Since it would take Isabella time to establish contact with Stalwart, we didn’t expect her back for a few days, and we couldn’t stay in the village. So Maggie and Eran were generous enough to give up a room in their house.

  “Purple,” Estelle murmured, her jealousy visible to anyone who knew her penchant for the color.

  “And pink,” Maggie corrected. “It’s a purple and pink house.”

  I knew what Estelle was thinking. She would love to stay with Maggie and Eran. As it was, without the DeVille store available to Jocelyn and me, we needed a new safe house far more than her. No, she’d have to find a way to survive in the plush, newly-redecorated 1,100 square foot room beneath the Fielding’s staircase. Still, she watched with envy as we headed for Miss Mabelle’s boat.

  The woman insisted on escorting us, so she would know where to find us, but I had a hunch it was because she wanted to be around if we ran across a Vire. I didn’t bother reminding her that she was frail enough to need a cane and that she wouldn’t be much help if we encountered a Vire. But I figured my silence saved me from a hit to the head from that cane.

  There was only one person I had any interest in upsetting. I stopped directly in front of her on my way out the door.

  She tilted her chin up at me, jutting out her jaw like she did when she was five and stole my toys. The only difference now was that her eyes narrowed at me because she knew there was a reason to be fearful.

  “Charlotte, you will recant your cast tonight,” I instructed, keeping my voice low because if anyone on the Weatherford side overheard our conversation it wouldn’t end well for anyone.

  Confirming Charlotte knew I was referring to her preventing Jocelyn from having any contact with me, she smirked arrogantly in response. “So she can hurt you?”

  I ground my teeth together to keep from shouting. “Recant or you’ll experience the cast yourself.”

  “I don’t need to touch anyone,” she declared boldly.

  Damn, she’s rebellious.

  “No, she’s loyal,” Jocelyn’s voice came through my head, correcting me. “Let it go, Jameson. You’re already fighting The Sevens, Lacinda, the perception of our world against you. I don’t want you fighting your-”

  She got that far before the cast set in. The second it did she bowed forward in anguish, crying out a muffled whimper, grabbing her stomach and heaving for a breath through the pain.

  I bent forward with her, keeping her from collapsing. Once I had a hold of her, I shot a look at Charlotte that made her step back, out of range.

  “End it! Now!” I shouted.

  She denied me. “No!”

  I was so angry my sight blurred, but despite what Jocelyn was going through, she was able to wave off the Weatherfords as they ran for her. And I knew why. While their touch wouldn’t hurt her, she might cling to them by mistake.

  “You’re doing this to her?” I heard someone say over Jocelyn’s whimpering.

  It was Vinnia, the more judicious of the Weatherford girls, but a protective one. This was not good.

  Sure enough, a disturbance followed, but I was too focused on Jocelyn to look up.


  “Get her out of here!” I heard my father shout and knew he was referring to Charlotte.

  “They’re starting…,” Jocelyn channeled to me between groans, “to feud…again….”

  That was when it hit me. She’s channeling. Which meant I could channel, too. And from that moment, I drew into me everything she was feeling, every throb radiating from her stomach, every cramping ache through her arms, every muscle twitch.

  I felt brain dead for not having figured this out earlier.

  Stupid as-

  That was when the full measure of what Jocelyn was feeling took hold of me and I was blinded by it. There was no longer any shack, no floor where I was standing, no presence of other living souls around me. There was only the pain.

  Jocelyn was stronger than me. By a lot. She had the ability to control herself, to speak, to notice what was going on around her, despite this incomprehensible pain. And that was when it occurred to me…what she had started to do once she acquired her ability to channel. She could deal with this cast better than me, far better, because she had built up a tolerance. Every time I’d watched her take hold of a patient, she’d been absorbing their injuries, diseases and illnesses all along. And if I hadn’t been in so much damn pain, I would’ve been in complete awe of her.

  By the time Jocelyn had pulled away, and the cast had run its course, we were both on the ground. Both of our families were gone, Kalisha included, probably escorted in a rush, out the door and back to their safe houses by Miss Celia and Miss Mabelle.

  Only Eran and Maggie were still with us.

  “Are you two okay?” Eran asked, somewhat indifferent to the answer we might give.

  “Fine,” I said, waving them off, picking myself off the floor while giving Jocelyn a hand.

  “I’ve seen a lot of action in my time,” he went on to say, “but nothing like that.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie nodded, eyebrows raised in shock. “When I heard about your families feuding I thought it was just a rumor, something for the gossips to talk about at school. But no…they were right about the intensity between you all.”

  Jocelyn gave me a weak smile, which I returned. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, as the color returned to her cheeks.

  “Did anyone else get hurt?” I asked Eran.

  “No….” He shook his head slowly in his customarily apathetic manner. “Just you two.”

  “Good,” I stated, taking Jocelyn’s hand and leading her toward the door. There was the briefest hesitation as our skin met, but then I realized I was making the overture and we were safe. “We’re okay to travel now. Let’s go.”

  The sun had set already, which gave us the cover of darkness and allowed us to get back to New Orleans without being seen. Jocelyn levitated us directly into the city, dropping us rapidly from a decent enough height that we weren’t seen coming in or landing.

  On the ground, I did a cursory check of the surroundings looking for Vires, or anything out of place, but found nothing. A shed was built in the back corner, but the door was secured with a massive steel combination padlock.

  It prompted me to ask, “What do you keep in there?”

  Eran smiled knowingly. “Magdalene’s motorcycle. Not sure why she bothers locking it, though. If anyone touches it, she’ll track them down and then…,” he chuckled, “God rest their soul.”

  The trees gave the house good coverage, and the rest of the yard posed no risks. A small garden was planted at the end, and a set of juice jars were lined up on the small patio outside the back door. In all, the place had the appearance of a traditional southern home.

  In fact, the only oddity came from the interior of the house. I was about to step up to the back door, behind Jocelyn and Maggie, when a screech came from inside.

  I tensed, and Eran noticed. “Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”

  When the door opened, I understood what he meant. A guy, thinner than a yardstick, was running around the kitchen with hands wagging in the air and a big grin on his face. He had a purple glob in his bright orange hair and a smear of it mashed down his apron.

  “Eggplant mousse!” he screamed before he saw us. “Absolutely divine!”

  He was kissing an older man on the cheek by the time I stepped into the kitchen. Then his screeching seemed to be directed at us.

  “You brought dinner guests!”

  He had his wiry arms around Jocelyn and me before we even had time to respond.

  “Actually, they’ll be staying a little longer than dinner,” Maggie informed him, dropping into a chair at the circular dinner table squeezed into the tiny kitchen. “If that’s all right with you.”

  Neither of the men seemed too concerned, which I took as a good sign.

  “Oh, pray tell!”

  Eran laughed in a way that made it clear he was familiar with this guy’s antics. “Felix, this is Jameson and Jocelyn. And this,” he said to us, “is Felix Pluck.”

  I noticed that as our names were mentioned, their expressions morphed from curiosity to understanding.

  Without hesitating, Eran motioned to the expressive orange-haired man and said, “This is Felix, our resident cook.”

  Felix seemed to appreciate that title as he tilted his head and cupped his hands to his cheeks. I wondered if he knew he was coming across like an adoring little girl, or even cared. Probably not, I decided.

  “And this is Mr. Tanner, Maggie’s father.”

  Mr. Tanner approached us with an observant, but sincere, gaze and shook Jocelyn’s hand first. He then took mine before confirming what I already knew. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I was about to respond when three more people came through the door.

  “And this is Ezra Wood,” Eran went on to say, tipping his head at the first to enter, a stout, dark-skinned woman with colorfully-beaded dreadlocks. She gave me a knowing look and headed for the counter where she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “And Rufus O’Malley,” Eran continued as a man the size of a tank trailed Ezra. He was tattooed with various symbols and names, and he was frowning. If anyone was going to give us trouble, I figured it would be him. But then he opened his mouth and directed his vehemence at Felix.

  “Ya got rubbish in yer hair,” he grumbled in a thick Irish brogue. “It’s purple.” He then said something unintelligible under his breath as Felix attempted to bat it out.

  The rest of the room tried not to laugh, but most of us were unsuccessful, and we ended up getting a hearty glare from Felix.

  The last person to enter the room was Mrs. Tanner, Maggie’s mother, a woman the same age as her husband and with a maternal look about her. I had no doubt she and my mother would form an easy friendship if they met.

  “You all live here?” Jocelyn asked, and without waiting for an answer, added, “Are you sure there’s room for Jameson and me?”

  Ezra laughed to herself and replied, “There’s always room here for those in need.”

  “Well, thank you for that,” I said and she gave me a warm smile from behind her mug.

  “So you’re the ones who are working with Eran and Maggie against the Fallen Ones,” she said, inquisitively.

  “The what?” Jocelyn and I replied in unison.

  Maggie grinned. “That’s what we call them.” To Ezra, she remarked, “They call them The Sevens.”

  “Ah,” Felix said, still wiping the purple from his hair. “Because there are seven of them left.”

  “Six now,” Eran pointed out, and an elated pause in the conversation followed.

  “Well,” Ezra sighed. “Thank you for your help.”

  I felt my eyebrows go up. “I thought it was the other way around, but in any case I’m glad we’re working together.”

  “Some of us are working together,” Ezra informed us with open displeasure before glowering at Eran. “But not all. Eran refuses to allow us in on the effort.”

  Eran sighed. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but you are aware of what happened the las
t time we attacked.” To me, he explained, “We’ve considered another outright assault, but I’m not willing to risk losing Magdalene again.”

  Maggie’s hand crept across to Eran’s, where their fingers curled together. My hand was already in Jocelyn’s, but seeing this gave me the impulse to squeeze it.

  Eran and I didn’t know how long either of us had with the woman we love, and we wanted to make the most of every second.

  “Sounds to me like you have an uphill battle, Jameson,” Ezra said, leaning on the counter. “The Sevens want you and Jocelyn dead and the rest of your world isn’t sure if they can trust you.”

  “You heard about that?” I asked, amazed at her insight.

  “I take a special interest in whatever situations Maggie and Eran get themselves involved in. Yours is of particular interest to me because of the Fallen Ones.” She closed her eyes and smiled widely when she reopened them. “The Sevens,” she corrected herself. “I understand you’ll be taking them out one by one?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “We’ll need to attack in force.”

  “If you can’t get those in your world to trust you, how will you rebuild your army in order to do so?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” I admitted.

  “And?” she pressed.

  “Still thinking.”

  She assessed me for a long minute, and then nodded her head as if she’d made her mind up about something. Whatever it was, it seemed to be positive.

  “You’re just in time for dinner,” she announced, taking a plate from the mismatched stack next to a pot with purple…something…bubbling from it. “We’re having eggplant mousse, is that correct, Felix?”

  “Yes, it is, my dear Ezra,” he said with a dramatic bow.

  She bowed back, thanked him and scooped a good-sized portion onto her plate.

  While it didn’t sound appetizing, Felix’s purple dish was just what we needed. Jocelyn and I finished ours and went for second helpings, which I got the impression gained us the status of lifelong friends in Felix’s eyes. It could have been because we hadn’t eaten anything in more than twenty four hours, but when I finally put down my fork I was beyond the point of feeling full.