A few screams rang out, everyone ducked, but the man didn’t move.
Then everyone was staring at me.
“Sorry for that,” I chuckled, heading for the man. I might have been too aggressive with my approach but he was blindly coming at Jocelyn, which is a bad idea if I’m around.
I was wrong about their reaction, though.
Nolan, who rivaled Charlotte at being callous, clapped me on the shoulder and snickered. “Doesn’t look that way to me. You got him, just the way you wanted him. He is down and out….”
Eran came up beside us, laughing to himself. “You’ll need to show me that trick some time.”
Jocelyn, however, was focused on her attacker. She trailed us until we reached him and then squatted to place her hand on his to begin healing him.
Spencer stepped up to watch. He’d always reminded me of a professor in a younger body, so when he started rubbing his chin and appearing pensive and reflective it didn’t surprise me.
“He just asked are you in the habit of insulting those who work to claim your freedom,” he reiterated. “Who work to claim your freedom…Is he a Dissident?”
The man’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open fully until he mumbled, “That I am, Sightseer.” Then he was staring up at us, frowning. “That was a good hit.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Now help me up,” he grumbled.
Once on his feet, he gave Jocelyn an intrigued stare. “You’re a healer,” he stated, as if he’d just come to that conclusion.
She nodded.
“Aren’t many of you left. The Sevens have done a good job of erasing you. How did you manage to go unnoticed?”
“I haven’t,” she replied flatly.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
His eyebrows furrowed then and I wondered if he was beginning to recognize her.
“Jocelyn.”
“Weatherford?” he asked, sharply.
“Yes.”
“You’re Jocelyn Weatherford?”
“Yes.”
“The Jocelyn Weatherford?” he asked again, and then drove home his point. “The Relicuum?”
“Yes.”
His mouth fell open and he took her hand, kissing the back of it. I cleared my throat. He pulled away, but his hands didn’t release her fingers.
“So you aren’t sightseers,” he concluded, glancing at the rest of us.
“No. What’s your name?” I asked, moving the conversation along. “And you can release her now,” I added, prompting a knowing smile from Jocelyn.
He did, reluctantly.
“Hans.”
“What do you know about this uprising, Hans?”
He blinked, and it looked like he was shocked. “What do I know? My friends and I saw the Vires land. We saw what they were up to. And we weren’t about to sit back and let it happen, like the rest of the world. So we caught them off guard and annihilated them. That’s what I know. And it wasn’t the first time.”
There was an uncomfortable pause until Jocelyn murmured, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, no. Excuse me, my lady. I only meant this wasn’t the only instance when we hurt the Vires.”
She shifted her gaze in my direction, insinuating that she might take over the conversation, and I tipped my head to her.
“What do you mean,” she inquired, “by ‘the first time’?”
His lips tilted to the side in a sneaky grin. Leaning in as if he wanted only Jocelyn to hear, he whispered, “We’ve been doing it in secret.”
“For how long?” Isabella interjected, unable to hold back her question.
Hans remained fixated on Jocelyn as he answered, continuing his hideous leer. “Since Sisera.”
Our eyes widened almost in unison.
“It told us they weren’t undefeatable,” Hans finished. “They’re not, you know.”
“Really?” Jocelyn said, to keep the conversation going, and I fought to contain my smile.
It was amusing watching her spin her web of stupor around Hans.
“No, no they’re not,” he claimed, earnestly. “You’ve heard of Flavian’s death too, haven’t you? He has fallen as well. Yes, he has. We know because his Vires…hear this…they watched as he lost his life. And,” he held up a finger signaling us to wait for his announcement, “he died even though he had…wings…”
He paused for her reaction, which she passed off as genuine surprise, slapping a hand over her mouth and widening her eyes.
“Yes, wings! I always knew there was something strange about them, didn’t you?”
She nodded vigorously, still covering her mouth. It took everything I had not to laugh at her excellent acting performance.
“And his murderers,” Hans went on dramatically, “tore the wings off him.”
Jocelyn gasped. “No!”
“Yes! Did it to take his suspenders as a trophy.”
“Flavian wore suspenders?”
Hans reeled forward in astonishment. “Every day! And they were beautiful! Not like these,” he said, snapping his own suspenders. “They were…were…” He stopped and an odd expression contorted his face. He quietly tilted his head and blinked.
Nolan, who was still standing next to me, hit the suspenders that were tucked inside my waist. “Covered with moldavite stones? Like these?”
Hans blinked again and lifted his eyes to mine. “Where did you get those?”
I answered simply with a smug grin.
He gawked at me for a long couple of seconds and then, almost inaudibly, he uttered, “What is your name?”
“Jameson Caldwell,” I replied, and he inhaled sharply.
“You-you became a Vire,” he blurted in bewilderment, and then he lunged for me. Before I knew it, his hands were around my throat. “You traitor! You were to unify us! And what you did was desert us! You turned down a truce that could have saved us from war only to…to build your own personal army!”
Either because I was familiar with my life being threatened or because of the training in my earlier years, I didn’t pay as much attention to the squeezing of his fingers as I did to the realization that he was incredibly well-informed. I wanted to ask him how he’d learned of the truce The Sevens had falsely perpetuated to make their case against me or how he knew about the army of Dissidents rising up against Sartorius in the bayou.
But Hans was bent on revenge. “And now you…! You…! You will die for it!”
He didn’t get too far with that death threat. My family pulled him off me, dragging him aside where he huffed wildly with crazed, glassy eyes.
I stepped up to him, where Burke put a meaty hand on my chest, restraining me. But I didn’t have any plans to hurt the man.
“You’re right,” I said. “I did become a Vire. I was supposed to unify you. I did desert you. I did turn down a truce. And I did build my own personal army. Everything you said was correct, Hans.”
“What? No!” Jocelyn shouted, always my loyal supporter.
“That’s not correct,” my mother insisted vehemently. “He did none of those things.”
“It’s all right,” I replied, never taking my eyes off Hans, whose rationale was returning. “I did everything you mentioned. Everything. But I did them with the best of intentions…and I failed.”
Failed, the word ran through my head again, and I had to hold back a scowl. It was an accurate word, but not one that I had ever applied to myself. It meant defeat, to lose, to walk away in shame.
And that wasn’t me.
I drew in a deep breath, clearing my thoughts, and coming back to the point at hand. Pulling out and holding up Flavian’s suspenders for everyone to see, I stated, “Flavian is dead. Sisera is dead.”
Hans’s nodded once, acknowledging his understanding.
“And the others…,” I said, meeting his stare. “I give you my word, Hans. We’ll get to them, too.”
Turning, I tucked the suspenders back in at my waist and made my way through the throng behind m
e to the barn door, the surge of adrenaline and pride bringing my back erect and my head high.
Because nothing…nothing would stop me this time.
14
CALIGULA
THE HOURS THAT FOLLOWED COULDN’T PASS fast enough.
I sent Isabella back to the Ministry for a meeting with Stalwart, which would give us information on the whereabouts and future plans of The Sevens. I sent the rest back to their safe houses. But my plans didn’t end there. Before Estelle separated from us, I asked if she could design Vire uniforms and gave her loose measurements for the intended wearers. Being our resident seamstress and fashion-forward counselor, she asked a bit too eagerly if they could be in purple. I said no. They needed to be black, which she griped about but ultimately conceded to. She seemed to be more willing after I handed her Flavian’s suspenders and asked her to use the stones for the collars. She nodded, in awe of the gift, and said she’d do her best. The rest gave me questioning stares, which I answered vaguely, saying they might be of some use. The truth was we were going to need them to get close to the next Seven.
Afterwards, there was nothing we could do but wait. That was the worst part. I knew The Sevens wouldn’t be waiting, and the Vires who did their bidding were already positioning themselves around the world. I heard the clock inside me ticking, the rotors making their clacking sound with each passing minute. Jocelyn could sense my urgency and addressed it as soon as she could.
We’d just finished dinner, another curious meal by Felix, this one cured opossum over mossy grits, which made me crave Miss Celia’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes. While the rest of the household played a loud board game at the kitchen table, Jocelyn and I offered to do the dishes, giving us a few precious minutes together.
Midway through the pile Felix left us on the counter, she leaned toward me. “I’ve considered taking a peek at your thoughts, but figured that would be an invasion of your privacy.” The hint embedded in her message made me grin.
“Everyone seems to be in their own world today,” I muttered.
“Oh…so that’s what you’re thinking about…the Dissidents rising up.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I admitted to her as much as to myself, “If I don’t get to The Sevens, there won’t be any Dissidents left.”
“We,” she corrected softly. “If we don’t get to them. You forget that you’re not in this alone.”
“I don’t want you to be in it, Jocelyn. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
For once, she didn’t argue with me. “I know. I feel the same way about you.”
That made me want to kiss her, until my next thought surfaced.
“They’ll do it again. The Dissidents will attack the Vires, putting themselves in danger in the worst possible way. They’ll do it alone, without forethought, without skill.” I laughed through my nose at myself. “And with all my training, all my strategic planning, I can’t help them. Because they don’t trust me.” I had to stop and release the tension in my hand before I broke the glass I was gripping.
“They will,” she insisted, full of optimism I didn’t feel. “Give them time.”
“Time, unfortunately, is something we don’t have.”
She didn’t respond, focusing instead on the dishes.
“So your thoughts are consumed by the Dissidents…not me?” She seemed amused.
I let my hands fall into the soapy water before pausing to answer. “I’m always thinking about you. When we’re separate, I wonder how you’re doing, what you’re thinking, if you’re happy. When you’re with me, I notice the way your hair falls down your back, the shine in your eye like you have right now, whether you’re laughing or content.”
“My eyes are shining?” she murmured, and I wondered if she’d heard the rest of what I’d said.
“They’re beautiful, mesmerizing.”
Stunning, remarkable, intoxicating…
She stared at me with those eyes, drawing me in until it took all of my strength not to kiss her. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yes,” she admitted smugly, just before her expression shifted to genuine sincerity. “I love you.”
Her words made my heart skip.
She lowered her head back to the sink. “And I am content,” she whispered, before a smile gradually lifted her lips.
Watching her made that pulse inside me increase its tempo.
We returned to the dishes, finishing them in silence throughout sporadic bursts of activity coming from the table behind us. These were caused by either unexpected twists in the game or Rufus objecting to Felix’s interpretation of the rules, and it was always entertaining. But that excitement was nothing in comparison to what I felt standing next to Jocelyn. We had our own game. There was an ebb and flow to our movement, almost brushing against one another, coming close but never enough to touch. It created an electric vibe so intense I wondered how the rest of those in the room didn’t pick up on it. Our families would have, and we’d have been called out on it. Instead, the shift in our stances, the slide of our arms outward, the near brush of our fingers in handing over the next plate were left just for us to enjoy. These silent exchanges were followed by glances at the reflection in the window in front of us, tempting us, teasing us.
“You two want to play the next round?” Eran asked, breaking the gaze Jocelyn and I were sharing at the moment.
I waited for her to respond and when she didn’t I clued in that she was doing the same. “I think we’re going to pass,” I replied.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug.
When the last dish was dried, we turned and found them engrossed in their game.
“I think we’ll head upstairs,” I announced.
“Yeah,” Jocelyn said, yawning. Whether real or bogus, it was convincing.
Rufus and Felix gave us perceptive glances while the rest kept their focus on the board. We made it to the base of the stairs before Ezra realized she’d forgotten something.
“Keep the door open,” she warned. “You know the rules.”
“Yes, we do.”
Of course, I didn’t mention we’d been breaking them nightly.
Already knowing what I was going to do to Jocelyn once we were alone, a tightening of expectation took hold of my stomach. On the first step up the stairs, I had already started yearning for the ability to levitate, to whip Jocelyn off her feet and up to the second floor before Ezra had bowed her head to the game board again.
Of course that was wishful thinking. I knew this when the back door opened and Ezra called out to us again, “Jameson? Jocelyn?”
And it made me drop my head and groan. “No…,” I muttered.
Jocelyn giggled behind me and I looked back. “You heard that?”
She smiled and nodded.
By that point, the visitor was at the end of the hallway. It was Isabella, who didn’t bother with a greeting to anyone in the kitchen, so I knew her news was urgent.
Only then did my disappointment at her interruption fade.
“They’re doing it again,” she said, coming to a halt, her face pinched with tension. “The Dissidents are attacking the Vires.”
“You were right,” Jocelyn muttered, gazing at me.
“Where?” I said, turning full circle.
“Sixth Province. Eastern China. The Pinggu District. It seems they’ve set their sights on Beijing.”
Heading for the kitchen, I called out, “Eran? Maggie?”
“You’re going to need more than two in your group,” Isabella cautioned.
“Why?” I asked, pausing in the hallway.
“Because they’ve combined their forces.”
My body was suddenly immobile, feeling like I’d ran into a brick wall. Numbingly, I began processing this information.
Sartorius was getting his wish. The Sevens were following his plan perfectly. As we eliminated his associates, the fighting force – the one he would claim when he remained the sole Seven alive – grew larger with each death. K
alisha had been correct. Forces were uniting as The Sevens fell, and it was unnerving to watch it unfold. This meant they would know to expect us, which made Estelle’s uniforms all that more important.
I nodded to Isabella to show my understanding. “Let’s hope Estelle has those uniforms finished,” I muttered. “We’re going to need them.”
“Behold!” Estelle spun into the kitchen, melodically singing her own praises. “At your request, sir, the most beautiful renderings of a Vire uniform in history!”
I was under the impression that Isabella had come alone, so I was surprised to see her, and in such a giddy mood. My first thought was to remind her that people were dying, but somehow I don’t think that would have put much of a dent in her reality.
She pinned the uniform to her shoulders by the tips of her fingers as she swept around the room. It flew off her torso like a wave of black until her rotations came to a stop in the center of the room, to promote her achievement. She was in luck. No one in the room missed her entrance.
“Thank you, Estelle,” I said, strolling into the kitchen and taking the canvas bag next to the door where she’d left it.
I noticed the rest of our families clogging the doorway outside and ushered them in.
“There are three, just as you asked,” Estelle announced.
“And which three will be wearing them?” Jocelyn inquired on behalf of everyone filtering into the small kitchen.
I gave her a look that told her I was weary of her insistence in participating, but she only folded her arms in opposition.
“Maggie,” I said, attracting her attention. “You’ll need to forgo your black suit this time.”
She stared back at me, hesitantly. “Because?”
“Because you’ll be wearing a Vire uniform instead,” I explained, passing Estelle’s handiwork to her.
Her lip curled up in disgust.
“Trust me,” I told her, “I know exactly how you feel.”
“Why this?”
“Again…you’ll need to trust me.”
“I’m fighting on the good side,” she reminded me.
“Which is precisely why we need to be wearing this if we’re going to reach Caligula.”
Prophecy (Residue Series #4) Page 17
