Birthright (Residue Series #2)

by Laury Falter

  “Oh…” I immediately felt humbled.

  My gaze dropped to the desk where Aunt Lizzy’s papers were scattered beneath the book I’d been reading. Ironically, Miss Mabelle had just given me more insight about The Relicuum than the book offered. What she said was simple.

  The Relicuum wasn’t prepared. Nor did she show any sign of wanting to be. If I was The Relicuum, this was absolutely correct.

  Miss Mabelle groaned, rolling her rotund body forward, and stood up. “She got to understand, to accept her fate. Only then can she learn. Can’t do nothin’ until that happens. Be like tryin’ to boil an egg without water. Just don’t work.” I wasn’t sure exactly how that applied, but I understood it as a southern woman’s analogy for being impossible.

  She swiped her hand at the handle of her cane so that it slapped loudly against her palm as she seized it. Then, she waddled toward the door.

  I watched her body sway from side to side, appearing larger than life to me in that moment. A moving statue: strong, resilient, and unyielding.

  “When it be time…Then we git ta work. Got to prepare fer yer birthright,” she said, her normally terse tone replaced with an unusually soft and calming inflection. “Ya don’t know it yet - no one in yer world does - but ya need ta prepare fer yer killin’.”

  “Killing?” I said, loud enough to jar her. “I’m not killing anyone.”

  Stopping midway through the door, she glanced back at me, and for the first time I saw sympathy in her eyes. “S’ part of yer birthright, Jocelyn. Can’t be denied. War ends with yer killin’ of The Nobilis.”

  She circled the edge of the door as if she were pivoting around and disappeared into the darkness. I heard her scuffle along the hardwood floors and back up the creaky stairs to her bedroom.

  Her final statement invaded my whole being, taking over my consciousness so forcefully I knew it would never be erased. Shaking, I remained seated, unable to bring myself to move until her bedroom door clicked shut.

  4 FIRST INTERACTION

  The next day, classes were uninspiring in comparison to all I’d learned the night before. It wasn’t the fault of my teachers. There was simply nothing they could have said that would deliver nearly as much impact. Calculating the light years from a star in a galaxy I’d never heard of and studying who ruled the empires of early Africa just didn’t measure up.

  Second period was especially agonizing as Ms. Wizner lectured on the structure and the function of state governments. There was, however, one bright spot in my day.

  From the moment Jameson and I saw each other, there was a noticeable release, lessening the pressure in each of us. He looked particularly tempting, glancing up from beneath strands of his sandy blonde hair and watching everyone as they entered the door. His shimmering agate family stone rested in the valley carved through his chest muscles, laying on top of a tightly-fit, white, cotton shirt – a display that must have felt like an insult toward Mrs. Gaul, our resident Vire in this class.

  Jameson didn’t acknowledge me as I came down the aisle, or at any other point throughout class. Since this had recently become his typical behavior, in an effort to throw off the Vires, the deep disappointment nagging at me shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Still, I couldn’t help tilting my head inquisitively in his direction.

  He sat, immobilized, focusing on the front of the room; his jaw was tight and the muscles in his neck were straining. With the intensity he was showing and his resolute dedication to avoid looking my way, even from this angle, he was stunningly handsome.

  I was comforted just sitting beside him but frustrated that I couldn’t confide in him. I wanted to tell him what I’d learned about The Relicuum’s future, to talk through the impossibility of it, but without any hope of being able to, I discarded the notion, reminding myself that it still wasn’t proven that I was the person in the book.

  Being so consumed by what I learned last night, I didn’t realize until midway through the class that Jameson was trying to send me a message. His lack of any signal, or any reference toward me, confirmed it. Once I recognized this, I settled back in my chair, waiting for it to arrive.

  But by the end of class, I was still waiting, unaware that it would be delivered as we left the room. A few feet from the door, the book he was carrying slid from his hand, and landed with a loud thump, flapping open to reveal its innards.

  By the time Jameson turned around, I was already bending down to pick it up; my fingers scooped beneath the cover and lifted it back into place.

  Jameson was crouching beside me by then, taking the book back, when our hands momentarily converged.

  When our skin touched, two things happened. First, a breathtaking excitement exploded inside me. Other than the short brush of our shoulders in the corridor at Ms. Veilleux’s evening school, we’d remained apart, teased by each other’s presence. Our forbidden touch instantly made me giddy, and I struggled to contain the sharp breath that threatened to give away my secret. Second, just as his finger slid against mine, words hit my mind like a speeding train.

  “Meet Alison in the girl’s locker room after school.”

  Apparently, his end goal wasn’t a morbid desire to test the bounds of our constraints, chancing the feel of his girlfriend’s hand. No…he had something else in mind. Unfortunately, a covert meeting between his sister, Alison, and me wasn’t nearly as enticing.

  As we stood up, the intensity of his stare left me dazed. For a second, I wondered if I got the message wrong, because now, he looked irate.

  Mrs. Gaul suddenly appeared beside us, taking a brisk, single step forward and duly noting our interaction.

  I knew then, Jameson’s expression wasn’t meant for me. It was for her. He was playing the role, still trying to convince the Vires we were enemies. And it looked staggeringly believable to me.

  “Keep moving.”

  It was the first time Mrs. Gaul had spoken in our class so her deep intonation threw me off. I hesitated, realizing that Ms. Wizner already rushed out of the room for her end-of-the-hour bathroom break…leaving us alone with her.

  “Now,” snapped Mrs. Gaul, sounding to me like she was accustomed to everyone taking her orders.

  “We’re going,” I carelessly retorted. A chill ran through me then as I realized what I’d done. I referenced Jameson and me…as being together…directly to a Vire.

  She appeared to be taken aback, although the reaction was fleeting. In that instant, she’d assessed me, correctly summing up the reason behind my brash reply. “You want us to retreat…leave the area?” She paused then and I knew it was to wait for my confirmation, but I didn’t give it to her. Being fully aware that she was searching for any reason to justifiably punish me, I remained silent, glaring my response, and she settled back on her heels before speaking with a tone more sinister than I’ve ever heard.

  “We won’t do that, Jocelyn.”

  With her response, Mrs. Gaul just broke down the walls between us. No more allusions, no more role-playing, and no more conspiring. She’d just laid her cards on the table, validating what we assumed since the Vires began arriving. The Vires, the entire mass of them, came with a common purpose, one that would keep them here until their objectives were met. She just warned me, or threatened me, whichever way you wish to look at it, that they were unyielding. They would never stop, never back down, and never give up.

  Mesmerized by the intensity of the moment, I snapped out of it when I heard the sound of Jameson’s feet on the tile floor as he approached us. He was just about to intervene when I lifted my palm in his direction and glanced at him, my expression indomitable.

  He reluctantly stopped, but didn’t turn to leave.

  “Fending off two adversaries simultaneously?” goaded Mrs. Gaul, feigning appreciation for my courage. “Or are you? There are those of us who question it…after your brief transgression a few weeks ago.” In no uncertain terms, she was referring to the open display of affection Jameson and I daringly exhibited when
we first met. At that time, it was a way to defy our families. We had no reason to believe that The Sevens opposed our love more than our own relatives.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?” I taunted, trying to gain some information from her. “To see for yourself?”

  “Some of us,” she replied, intentionally leaving me with more questions than answers.

  She leaned forward, a sneer lifting her boney cheeks. “What you haven’t learned…your re-introduction to our world being so recent…is that you don’t control us. We control you.” Her eyes drifted smoothly across my arm, the one with my white metal bracelet. She slowly dipped her head in its direction. “It’s unfortunate for you that we don’t give warnings.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Jameson take a step forward because he saw it happening before I did.

  Mrs. Gaul then broke a fundamental rule, for which others had lost their lives.

  She voiced an incantation in public. “Incantatio intumescunt.”

  Then something started happening that I did not expect. She was the one who fell. Her legs crumbled beneath her like stacked playing cards blowing over in the wind, her body landing with a sickening smack on the unforgiving floor.

  As Mrs. Gaul attempted to regain control of her body, I slipped in front of Jameson, hiding him as best I could. If she saw it was him who…I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought.

  My wrist had begun to swell, bubbling up around the edges of my bracelet, leaving a purplish ring where the pressure was building. It was the same area where Mrs. Gaul had concentrated when casting a hex against me.

  I wasn’t worried, though. I would recover. It was a verified certainty. My unique ability to heal others applied to myself too, and it would eventually block and counteract Mrs. Gaul’s cast.

  But I wanted her to know it.

  Staring down at her and holding one hand over my swelling, I observed Mrs. Gaul’s eyes closing as a smirk came to rest on her lips. Then, I whispered my own incantation “Incantatio sana” – and watched as she grasped what I’d done.

  First, the discoloration began reversing, then the swelling. The healing was so quick, in fact, that she caught sight of it just before her eyelids fell shut, and the smile she wore was replaced with a scowl.

  Without further delay, we turned for the door, but we’d only taken two steps before I stopped.

  “Jocelyn, we need to go,” Jameson insisted, keeping his voice low and glancing at the hallway where students floated by. I knew he expected a Vire to walk through at any second and he had every right to be concerned.

  Still, I heaved a sigh because something was tearing at me inside.

  “Just…” was all I managed before returning to Mrs. Gaul.

  As my hand came around her own wrist, she jolted awake, terror flooding her expression. She was incapable of defending herself, and she knew it.

  I then whispered words that I knew were the last ones she expected to hear. “Incantatio sana.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed together, as she watched me with confusion now.

  That wasn’t all I’d come back for, however. In those few seconds before her body began to function again, I delivered my own message.

  “No, Mrs. Gaul…” I stated gently, as one does while breaking terrible news to a child. “You control nothing.”

  I stayed there, crouched beside her, waiting for the meaning of my words to sink in. When her mouth went slack and her face filled with resentment, I knew it had finally sunk in.

  We left her there, the muscles in her arms coming back to life enough that her hands could uncurl. But with her limbs still frozen across one another and her lips unable to work, she posed no immediate threat. Mrs. Wizner would be returning to the classroom soon enough, and when she did, there was no telling how Mrs. Gaul would retaliate.

  This thought hovered between Jameson and me as we parted ways in the hall, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was…it would be wise to run; although neither of us was willing to. So, we waited…

  The next class came and went. And the next one went by after that. At lunch, I predicted that Vires would find me, enclose me, and haul me off to the ministry, or wherever it was they held prisoners awaiting trials for crimes against the establishment. When this didn’t happen, I kept the incident to myself, not wanting to disturb my cousins. There was no need, especially when the Vires didn’t seem to be reacting. This actually confused me, until I theorized that Mrs. Gaul wouldn’t mention the incident. Her ego, which seemed grossly inflated for no apparent reason, wouldn’t allow her to acknowledge that the Vires’ most dangerous, roaming enemies got the best of her. This thought eased my mind some, actually bringing a smile to my face.

  Eventually, the last class of the day ended, devoid of any unusual interaction with our enemies. In fact, I was so bored I had to rub the tiredness from my eyes after listening to Mr. Morow drone on about the defining differences between nomadic German rulers and the early African empires.

  As soon as we were released, I was on my feet…remembering Alison was waiting for me in the locker room.

  It took me no less than fifteen minutes to dart the Vires while traversing the school grounds. I had to rush into classrooms five or six times where, mostly, students were taking make-up exams. Once, I was asked if I was voluntarily sitting in on detention.

  No, I thought…considering the number of moldavite stones I now endure on a daily basis…I live in detention every day of my life.

  When I reached the locker room, Alison was sitting on one of the wooden benches, feet stretched in front of her, toes tapping madly. Her head was down, and it looked like she was biting her nails.

  She grunted after seeing me. “Finally!” Throwing herself forward, her hand came out from behind her. In it was a wad of black hair. “Had to make sure no one saw this thing all day long.”

  Turning toward the mirror, she slipped the clump over her forehead and tucked the rest of her hair underneath.

  “Oh…” She stopped and pulled out another wad of hair, this wig being sandy blonde. “I have one for you.” Handing it to me, she insisted, “Go on,” and I began positioning it over my head.

  “Want to fill me in on why I’m doing this?” I asked, brushing a strand of coarse hair from my nose and wiping away the tickle.

  Alison took a moment to think of the best way to explain and snickered under her breath. “Guess you could call it trading places.” She continued adjusting her hair before she changed the subject with an offhanded inquiry. “So…you really love my brother, huh?”

  “Yes,” I answered softly, but firmly. In deeper reflection, and more to myself, I added, “I do.”

  “I think you two are good together.” Then, as an afterthought, she added information that made me feel like she was confiding in me. “We all do. It’s just taking Charlotte a little more time to come around.”

  “Yeah…I figured. She’s…”

  “It’s all right,” she encouraged. “You can say it. We all know.”

  “Tough.”

  “Hmm,” she mumbled thoughtfully.

  I sensed she was judging my description, and instantly, my guard went up.

  But then she nodded in agreement. “That’s better than most things she’s called.”

  A laugh shot out of me and Alison looked in my direction, catching my eyes and then joining in. Our shoulders shook with the force of our laughter for the next few seconds, before returning to adjusting our wigs, and the bathroom grew awkwardly quiet.

  “Does he say anything about me?” I blurted the words, meaning to be filler, but realized they’d been hanging in my subconscious, waiting for the opportune time to ask. And this seemed to be it.

  Alison’s eyes squinted with determination before replying, “Its more in how he says it, it’s more in his actions.”

  “Really?” I asked, openly intrigued.

  “Yeah, he…he’ll say your name really low…in a whisper when he suddenly sees you down the hall or in the
cafeteria like he wants to call out to you but realizes at the last second that he can’t. Sort of sad, really. Or we’ll try to get his attention at breakfast or dinner and we can’t, and we all know why…”

  “Why?” I asked, innocently.

  “You!” She chuckled. “He’s thinking about you.”

  “Oh…” I had to admit that was ridiculous to ask but I didn’t want to assume. Sometimes it was still surreal that we’d overcome centuries of deceit and found a way to be together.

  “But, there’s other times when he’s completely frustrated by you.”

  “Really?” I asked, amused now.

  “Absolutely. When he catches you glaring at a Vire he always sighs and shakes his head, but he keeps watching to make sure nothing happens because he-”

  “I know. He wants to keep me safe,” I finished, thinking back to this morning when he intervened with Mrs. Gaul.

  “That’s right.” She paused, staring at my reflection, her demeanor became stiff and intense. “He really does love you.”

  The pleasure in hearing those words only paralleled the same feeling I had when he confessed it himself. His image fluttered briefly into my mental view, one when he was grinning. His glistening clear, green eyes and the beautiful scar stretching above his eager lips caused the searing heat of excitement flooding my stomach to suddenly ignite.

  I promptly reverted back to acting nonchalant as Alison threw her hands out, gesturing that she’d perfected her wig placement. Slowly turning around, she asked, “See any blonde?”

  After a full two circles, I verified, “None.”

  She checked me for inky black strands that might be escaping, and we proceeded to switch clothes. Then we stood back, looking in the mirror, to assess and I was able to piece it all together.

  After inspecting Alison’s reflection, I saw the resemblance. While she was a little shorter than me the rest of her features held a strikingly odd familiarity. Our shapes were the same, our limbs were nearly equal length, and our clothes fit each other perfectly. If she kept her head down, she could pull it off.