Birthright (Residue Series #2)

by Laury Falter

  Shocked, I opened my mouth, ready to call out his name when he raised a finger to his lips – a sign even a five-year-old would understand.

  He wanted me to stay quiet.

  I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion, but by that time he’d reached me. Without a word, or even slowing his stride, his hand came around mine and smoothly pulled me around in the direction I’d come from. In five swift steps, he was leading me through an arched entryway covered in sloping vines. He then gently planted me behind the wall of foliage, extending across a stranger’s property.

  His actions gave the impression he was keeping me from being seen, yet no one else was on the street but us…

  With Jameson’s back to the makeshift wall, he cautiously peered around the corner; I was fighting the urge to do the same. I lost…leaning forward and cautiously stretching my neck around him for greater distance. Without even turning in my direction, Jameson’s arm came up, softly insisting I stay back.

  I almost sighed at the unfairness but had an inkling that wasn’t the best idea right now…and I was correct.

  Suddenly, a set of footsteps became audible, as if someone dropped from the sky. The footsteps quickly grew louder, carrying their owner along the opposite side of the hedge from us. I judged the person to be heavyset, with long legs, given the booming thuds and the spaced placement of their footfalls, which gave the impression the owner’s legs were prone to marching.

  We waited as the sound of the footsteps faded, until they were gone entirely. When all was clear, Jameson’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he took the first breath in, what I knew had been, a very long time.

  He only needed to say one word and his curious behavior made sense. It came through my head, urgent and distinct, and I knew he was channeling to keep us from being overheard.

  “Vires.”

  The mention of that name should have alarmed me, sending a wave of panic coursing through my body. Even so, I barely comprehended the meaning of it. Jameson’s voice, after not hearing it for days, sounded so charming and was so enchanting; it ignited a bundle of heated excitement that burst inside me.

  He didn’t seem to notice. His head was ducked toward the street again.

  “They’re doing their rounds,” he explained, still channeling.

  “How did you know?” I asked, sending the question back to him the same way.

  “I’ve been watching them. They follow a pattern. They’ll keep an eye on our houses until they think we’ve fallen asleep, and then, they walk the perimeter. That’s how I could tell they were coming.”

  “They’ve been watching our houses?” I asked, stunned.

  “Yes. They’ll be discreet about it until they no longer have reason to be.” His answer sounded so informed, I wondered how he knew it. As if reading my mind, he explained, “They’ve done this to others we know.”

  We were being watched and I had no idea. My family didn’t either. That realization brought a wave of resentment over me.

  “They have no right to stalk us,” I hissed under my breath.

  Jameson shot a glance over his shoulder, stunned by my recklessness. If my voice carried and any Vires found Jameson and me together, it would mean the end of our ruse and put us and our families at far greater risk.

  A few seconds passed, and I channeled again, distracting him. “Jameson, how did you know I was here?”

  Finally, he turned toward me, his beautiful face belying the effort to come up with an answer. “I didn’t. You surprised me.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Well, that’s a first.”

  “Not really.” He sounded more amused than upset.

  Even though he’d again turned his attention back to the street, I felt pride swell inside me. To have someone so rational, so analytical, and so seemingly prepared for every unknown, be taken aback by me was a thrill. With his head facing the other direction, I allowed a brief smile to creep up.

  A few minutes later, he straightened to his full height and turned back to me. “They’re gone,” he announced.

  Neither of us moved or spoke, or even drew in a breath. A breeze stirred the sandy blonde hair falling across his forehead while everything else remained motionless. We stood there, our taut shoulders stationary, our arms trapped stiffly at our sides. Our silence was for one simple reason. We realized the very same thing.

  We were finally alone.

  What happened next left me mesmerized, breathless, numb with a surge of passion.

  No sooner did his chest sink with a soft exhale did his hands find my cheeks. Cupping them gently as he stepped closer, his shoulders curled up and around us as if to encircle and protect me. His lips tenderly settled on mine, our fervor breathlessly escalating as we made up for the time we’d been forced to spend apart. The longing stares over the last few weeks, the intentional brushes, the ache at watching the other from a distance, all culminated into our passion right now.

  Yanking his head away, he faced the direction of the street, and my body froze, seeming to have heard something I didn’t.

  “Nothing,” he exhaled with relief, again returning to me.

  Leaving his hands resting lightly on my hip – the pressure tickling beneath my skin – he bowed his head until our foreheads touched. “I’m sorry for that. I-I couldn’t…stop myself,” he said, with the sweet scent of his breath surrounding us.

  My answer coaxed a grin out of him. “I’m glad.”

  Laughing quietly, he pulled back and stared at me, fascinated but not bothering to mention the thoughts running through his mind. He blinked a few times, as if clearing them away.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. His voice was hoarse, and radiated the truth to those words.

  “Me, too.”

  His eyes softened as he insisted, “Say that again.” His striking, clear green eyes bore through me, settling in to wait.

  I drew out the moment by gripping the fabric of his jeans and leaning forward to place my mouth against his ear. As I spoke, my lips gently caressed his skin, pleasantly eliciting a labored breath from him.

  “Me, too.”

  I stood back to find him smiling - partially entertained and partly elated - once again giving me brief confirmation of how my behavior influenced him.

  As if he was attempting to throw me off course, he shrugged arrogantly, but joking. “I thought so…”

  In return, I scoffed, slightly amused but trying not to show it.

  Yet, I knew he recognized it as his hand slipped into mine. Pulling our hands upward, he paused to glance at the white metal bracelet embedded with my clear white, crystal quartz family stone, and he tenderly squeezed my fingers. Only a few weeks ago, the sight of the bracelet had sent a shock of inhibition through him; though, now he embraced it…knowing I came with it.

  “Come on. I’ll make sure you get home,” he offered, as an afterthought immediately followed. “What are you doing out this late anyways?” Then he came to a stop, slowly rotating around and raising his eyebrows incredulously.

  He knew the answer without any assistance from me. “The hospital.”

  I nodded. “The one on-”

  “I know which one,” he replied. I knew he figured it out after he considered our current location. There weren’t many emergency rooms in close proximity to where we are standing.

  His hand dropped mine, lifting to fold his arms across his powerfully built chest. Although seemingly defiant, he watched me, bemused. “So you thought…Vires are now in the city, but I’m going to leave the safety of my home…alone…at night…to go on a healing errand?”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. That’s actually what you thought.”

  I fell silent, uncomfortable that he knew me so well.

  “You didn’t want me to go with you?” There was a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

  “No…Yes…” I stopped to sigh and collect myself. “Yes, I wanted you to come. I thought you were asleep.” Keeping our eyes averted, I intr
insically brushed my fingers across the vine next to him, watching the leaves spring back to life as if they were taking a deep breath.

  Jameson’s stare was unrelenting, as he quietly assessed me further.

  I couldn’t believe how fast our conversation turned, and I didn’t have any idea how to get it back to a point of more seduction and less melodrama.

  “Did you consider what happened in the bayou before making this decision?” He was genuinely interested…upset…but interested.

  I lifted my chin, indignant.

  “Jocelyn,” he said, firmly. “That was seven days ago. The Vires will have already learned that Frederick and Anastas – the ones sent to supervise us - are missing. We are the ones with the most to gain by their deaths, so we will be their first suspects. I can guarantee they are looking for a way to link us to their associates’ disappearance. Once they do,” he stressed this, as if it was an inescapable conclusion, “they won’t think twice about taking out their vengeance on us…on you. They won’t think twice about taking out their vengeance on you, Jocelyn.” He ended, letting out a sigh of frustration.

  He was trying to be logical and warn me, because if I were to cross paths with a Vire, he couldn’t step in to protect me. I would have to be responsible for myself. We both knew this as much as we also knew I wouldn’t be nearly as good at it as Jameson.

  He exhaled sharply. “I don’t want you hurt, Jocelyn.”

  My heart fluttered, the sincerity of his words striking me deeply.

  “I won’t be,” I insisted, even though the rattling coming through my words made them seem contestable. I lifted up my chin, for an extra show of confidence.

  My bravado was unable to convince him. I knew this when his head shook back and forth slightly.

  “What you saw in the bayou – their abilities in controlling the trees as weapons, their velocity through the air, the arsenal they carry, the power of their incantations…all of it – should have impressed on you enough, but it barely skims the surface. There is so much more.”

  “I’ll learn.”

  “That is exactly what I’m worried about.” He lashed out. I noticed his voice raised a notch. “They are dangerous! They will kill you!”

  Reacting to the desperation in his voice, I sighed.

  He groaned.

  We came to a stalemate.

  In what seemed to be a last attempt at convincing me to behave reasonably, to end my healing errands until it was safe again, to act on the terms the Vires had set without our permission, he pressed on. “Vires drift between our world and the other. They have killed on both sides. They know no boundaries…they know no boundaries, Jocelyn.” He repeated harshly, trying to penetrate what he saw to be my stubbornness. “They do whatever is within their resources to meet their objective.”

  His eyelids lifted, and what I saw behind them pulled at my heart - worry consuming him.

  Drawing in a long breath, it perturbed me to know he wasn’t going to like what I was about to say. “I won’t stop healing, Jameson. It’s who I am. And it’s what keeps the Vires from imprisoning me in my own home.” Even as his lips pinched in protest, I continued, determined to finish. “But when I do heal…” His eyes darted back to me, expectant, hopeful, knowing there was a concession coming. “I will do it safely. No midnight runs. No Vires to witness.”

  His head began nodding, as he contemplated my statement. “Stay as far away from them as possible.”

  “I will…I’ll try. They won’t make that easy though…” I cautioned.

  “Just…” He stopped me, in case I’d planned to take my warning any further. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

  “Nowhere? I mean…what about the bathroom? Should I have someone in the shower with me?” I meant this teasingly but it came out as a taunt.

  “Jocelyn…” He wasn’t finding me funny at the moment.

  His face fell then because something else – besides my path toward self-destruction – caught his attention.

  Listening intently, a few seconds later, I heard it too. The hum of a vehicle’s engine…approaching fast…and directly toward us.

  Our faces grew apprehensive as it came to a halt directly on the opposite side of the hedge. A car door opened and a voice, quiet but firm, called out.

  “Get in.”

  My head snapped back as I recognized the sharp, terse tone of my housekeeper.

  “Miss Mabelle,” I informed Jameson. Considering what we’d just been discussing, I added, “It should be safe.”

  He agreed, and we turned the corner to find Miss Mabelle’s black SUV with the engine still running. The passenger doors on our side were already opened. How she’d managed that, while remaining secure in her seatbelt and behind the steering wheel, was beyond me. But that became a fleeting thought after she made her announcement.

  “They’ve found ‘em.”

  “Found who?” Jameson and I asked in unison.

  She scoffed, perturbed, as if we should already have known. “The Vire’s bodies…that’s who.”

  2 THELEO ALESIUS

  Vires could pass on the street, barely discernible – even by those who were alert enough to look for them.

  There have been stories of people finding their abdomens slashed, fingers missing, or a strange ailment suddenly inflicting them, without ever identifying the Vire who attacked them. Vires could be wearing an impressionable business suit, a distinguished police uniform, the tattered clothes of a homeless person…dressing solely to disguise themselves. Vires blend in so well that differences between them and everyone else were minor and obscured. The distinction was hidden beneath their clothing where they were armed with supernatural weapons and in their whispers carrying harmful incantations. If you were lucky enough, you might catch sight of the stone they wore – Moldavite – a faded, olive-green gem, capable of capturing, retaining, and expelling power. It was the only external clue to identifying a Vire.

  The morning after Miss Mabelle announced that the bodies of the first two Vires, who were sent to supervise us, had been found dead, we were just starting to grasp the limits our dismal future held.

  Miss Mabelle prepared cream of wheat and Cajun sausages for breakfast, far more substantial than the usual pastry, arranging it posthaste in order to explain the news about the Vire’s bodies while the rest of my family was all in the same room. She was a woman who preferred not to repeat herself, so once her explanation was final, she left up the stairs, retreating to her room. Aunt Lizzy was in her study on the phone with Uncle Lester, reassuring him that everyone here was safe…so far. The rest of us stood at the front window, peering out at the two Vires stationed on the sidewalk at the end of our driveway.

  “They look like Secret Service agents,” Estelle noted.

  “They are,” Vinnia sighed. “They’re The Sevens’ agents.” As always, I was amazed that, within her tiny frame and behind her innocent expression, Vinnia modestly hid a powerful ability to deduce others.

  Making our final assessment of the Vires - in their black suits and dark sunglasses, despite the cloudy morning - we continued to the kitchen.

  “Well, this day is starting off well,” Estelle joked, picking up her bowl and sliding onto the countertop to eat it; her feet dangled against the cabinet doors below.

  The rest of our heads dipped closer to our bowls of steaming cereal, trying to avoid the bleak truth in what was happening.

  “Not good,” Spencer, always studious and critical, stated woefully. “This is not good at all…”

  Nolan scoffed. “Eh, let them come.” After realizing the rest of us were staring at him, he snorted. “What?” and we gradually turned our attention back to our food.

  He never seemed to realize when he was being obtuse. To him, mincing or coddling words was simply a waste of time.

  “Just keep your eyes open,” Vinnia muttered, starting the conversation again. “And don’t give the Vires a reason to confront us.”

  “She’s right,” said Oscar, t
he most robust of my cousins and the one who typically sought a peaceful solution. “They’ll be looking for any excuse.”

  Nolan snickered and shrugged, offhandedly. “They’ll have one once they find out we were there at the time of their friends’ deaths.”

  “It wasn’t our fault,” Estelle stated. “They attacked us.”

  “When was the last time someone was found innocent for defending themselves against a Vire?” Spencer countered.

  She immediately fell silent, confirming the answer was apparently never.

  The rest of us at the table fell silent, contemplating the depth of the jeopardy we’re finding ourselves in. I’d only just started to learn how maniacal Vires could behave. Having been given almost full reign by their superiors – The Sevens – Vires were known to have and follow no ethical boundaries. Regardless, it was my cousins’ expressions that left an indelible impression on me. They were somber, their faces mirroring those of convicts waiting for their execution to arrive.

  That ominous fate only seemed to be drawing closer, as we passed Vires en route to school, as we watched them trail us when driving, and as we noticed their presence on school grounds.

  Everywhere I looked, moldavite was gleaming in the sunlight. When the first class warning bell rang, the olive-colored stones were highly visible; being worn by students crowding school grounds, custodians sweeping the hallways, new staff members congregating in the office, and bus drivers loitering at the school’s entrance. The presence of our Weatherford quartz crystals paled in comparison.

  This isn’t what surprised me, because I’d been forewarned by my mother. She left and returned to her post at the ministry, trying to thwart any idea that we were responsible for Frederick and Anastas’s disappearances, but not before warning me of what was to come. It was the sudden onset and the sheer forcefulness of the Vire’s invasion that actually surprised me, leaving me guarded until I reached the school’s main hallway.

  Jameson’s locker was positioned at the entrance to our school, giving me the advantage of seeing him as soon as I entered. His locker was open, displaying books and papers thoughtlessly crammed inside, but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. He saw me as I entered the main hallway and halted his conversation mid-sentence. Charlotte, the most blunt of his siblings, snapped her fingers in front of his nose until she realized what was consuming him. Glancing over at me, she rolled her eyes and muttered something that looked like “Figures!” Promptly, she turned and entered the fray of sandy blonde-haired Caldwells standing in a group nearby.