Birthright (Residue Series #2)

by Laury Falter

  “No, you are obstructing us,” Jameson retorted, boldly.

  His vehemence stunned me – and made me proud.

  “Obstructing?” said Turcott, feigning offense. “Merely delaying.”

  Jameson’s reply was abrupt. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

  As we attempted to step around him, the Vires came forward, surrounding us.

  I glared at each one, eventually landing on Turcott. And without looking, I knew Jameson was doing the same.

  A familiar voice boomed down the alleyway. At first, I was relieved, but when I recognized who the voice belonged to, terror threatened to consume me.

  “Turcott,” barked Theleo, as he broke through the line of Vires blocking Jackson Square, and began striding toward us.

  While Turcott didn’t seem surprised by the interruption, he certainly wasn’t happy with it either. The curl of his lip into a snarl confirmed this.

  “Theleo,” he said, without turning around. “We’ve had this discussion. You know your place.”

  “And you know well enough my assignment is in the oversight of these two,” Theleo retorted, evidently referring to us. “You are interfering, again.”

  This made Turcott spin around. “I’m doing my job, Theleo.”

  “Your job is to find The Relicuum and The Nobilis, not to harass my assignments.”

  “And if they are one in the same?” Turcott challenged.

  This insinuation sent a chill rushing down my spine and a single thought screaming through my head. He knows who we are.

  Theleo’s response alleviated a small measure of my terror, when he replied, coolly, “That remains unconfirmed.” Without giving Turcott time to counter, he added, “I’ll remind you that you’ve been wrong before.”

  There was the quietest intake of air from Turcott and then he collected himself. Apparently, he came to the conclusion that there was no winning this argument and decided to ignore it all together.

  Turning back to Jameson and me, he composed himself and grinned. “Of course, I’m not the only one requesting an audience.”

  “We have no interest in meeting anyone else,” I said, calmly, not allowing him the reward of seeing me ruffled.

  Turcott stared back at me skeptically. “Jocelyn Weatherford. While you remain an enigma to me, still, there is one thing I do know about you. I know you have the ability to heal. So, imagine this. The consequences of your refusal to join me in a short walk to a nearby hotel will include injury to both your families – all of whom are currently surrounded by Vires – injuries so severe they will surely result in death. Consider it, Jocelyn,” he spewed, leaning toward me, his eyes darkening with malicious intent. “Not only will you have caused their mortal injuries, but you will be unable to use your ability to save them.”

  I felt it first in the tautness of my neck, and then, in my arms and eventually my torso. I wondered if it might just be muscle tension, because they had grown stiff some time ago. But, no, I was wrong. I was shaking with fury.

  Unable to control myself, I stepped forward, sending the Vires around us into chaos.

  Jameson acted in the same way, coming closer to Turcott than me.

  As he held his ground, Turcott’s hand rose and brought the Vires to a halt before they could seize our arms or perform a cast preventing us from assaulting him.

  “One motion from me and your families die.”

  “Consider for a second how that will look to the rest of our world,” seethed Jameson, so close to Turcott their chests were nearly touching.

  “Reflect on the fact that your families will already be dead, before our world discovers it.”

  Jameson’s shoulders, which had tensed during the altercation, fell slightly, and he stepped back, stretching out his arm against me to insist I do the same.

  “Good,” Turcott said. He sounded like a trainer rewarding a dog that just obeyed. It made my face contort into defiant stare and Jameson’s shoulders rise again. “Now, if you’ll accompany me…”

  Turcott spun on his heel and strolled out of Pirates Alley, away from Jackson Square. Theleo and the remaining Vires followed us, keeping to a loose huddle around us. I noted that while tourists and street performers were everywhere, no one could have helped us, even if we had called out. Our families would have been dead before we could escape the Vires.

  Every passerby on the street was innocent, paying us little or no attention at all. They were oblivious and couldn’t know we were heading into a private room to be encircled by our enemies. The word ‘hopeless’ took on an entirely new meaning. I began to actually appreciate the air in my lungs, the harsh sounds of the city, and the feel of the broken pavement beneath my feet. Because this may be the last time I experience any of them.

  Whoever was interested in meeting Jameson and I had expensive taste. The hotel we entered was one of the most luxurious in the city. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and soft jazz playing in the background greeted us. I felt like an animal being led to its slaughter across velvet carpet.

  At the elevator, Turcott’s palm came out and stopped Theleo from entering.

  “Your assignments,” he said, sarcastically, using Theleo’s term for us, “will be secure with their host.”

  As the door closed, Theleo’s face was firmly set in confusion, trying to process what Turcott meant. Just as the door closed, however, his expression changed. His eyes grew wide, and his jaw squeezed shut. What disturbed me wasn’t the fact we were headed to a private room and going to be surrounded by our enemies, it was Theleo’s reaction. Because after he finally understood Turcott’s comment, he looked like very alarmed.

  This settled uneasily in me as we took the elevator to the top floor. Jameson stood so close our shoulders nearly touched, which was comforting given our present situation.

  Turcott led us through a separate door off the elevator and into a cavernous room opulently decorated with rich colors and antique furniture.

  A man stood on the balcony overlooking the city where modern skyscrapers rose above the older and more traditional buildings graced with wrought-iron balconies were seen in the foreground. I noted the irony, instantly. The man wore an elegant, custom-tailored business suit – the epitome of today’s wealthiest and most contemporary men – in the midst of a traditionally-appointed, historical building.

  He turned slowly until he was directly facing us and I discovered we were staring back at the very same man who upset Maggie. Beneath well-groomed, black hair and emotionless, brown eyes, his skin appeared frail, almost translucent, as if it had thinned over the centuries. But it was his hands, crossed over the top of a cane, the kind used for fashion and not for mobility, which drew my attention. On one finger, embedded in an extravagant diamond ring, sat the largest moldavite stone I have ever seen.

  “Bow,” stated Turcott. When both Jameson and I refused to move, he stepped forward. “Bow or the other one will needlessly suffer.”

  That threat was enough to get Jameson and I to bend slightly at the waist, though we kept our eyes locked on the man in front of us.

  In deep, rough brogue, his voice carried over us. “Do you know me by name?”

  Jameson responded, keeping his own voice reserved but steady. “Yes.”

  “Do you know me by rank?”

  I remained silent as Jameson answered. “Yes.”

  “Tell me,” the man demanded, “Jameson Bartlett Caldwell, who am I?”

  Jameson’s jaw twitched before answering. “Your name is Sartorius and you are one of The Sevens.”

  16 DEFIANCE

  Standing before me was one of the men who attempted to take my life and Jameson’s life when we were newborns. He was one of the men responsible for my father’s death. He was my grandfather, and he’d come here to kill me and the man I loved.

  As these realizations bombarded me, Jameson continued recounting Sartorius’s reputation.

  “You were the first to suggest gladiator tournaments in Rome. You caused the volcanic erupt
ions, including Krakatoa, in 535 AD, which brought on mass famine in the western hemisphere for several years. You trained the Templars making them one of the most effective fighting units during the Crusades-”

  “That is sufficient,” Sartorius declared, and Jameson’s mouth slowly closed and his eyelids dropped to a glare.

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” Sartorius scoffed, making the assumption that was where Jameson had learned everything he listed. “I trained the Templar Knights for as long as it took to make them lethal and to set them in the direction where it would cause the most harm.” He said this apathetically with a hand gesture, brushing aside any possibility that he’d done it with any moral intent.

  A soft breeze fluttered the sheer curtains behind him, making Sartorius appear almost unreal, but I refused to let this disturb my resolve.

  Even though he didn’t move for several minutes, taking time to evaluate me, I met his eyes and refused to look away. Whether he liked what he saw in his bloodline made no difference to me.

  “Your father had the same defiance,” he stated, flatly, breaking the silence but remaining motionless. It didn’t seem to matter one way or another to him. “His brothers and sisters – of which have been many throughout the centuries – were given an eighth of it. Unfortunately, had your father used his wisely, he might have taken higher rank before his death. That defiance, in fact, served him well,” he paused, as his entire being seemed to darken, “until he challenged me.”

  “And how did he do that?” I asked with my glowering remaining unchanged.

  Sartorius didn’t respond for several seconds and this was where I began to understand him. His refusal to speak again was in direct defiance to me. He was telling me that I didn’t control this conversation, this predicament, or even my life. He’d been exercising this authority from the moment Jameson and I entered the room. The greeting to his back, the demand that we bow, the delay in speaking to us, the demand that Jameson identify him, the insistence that Jameson prove Sartorius’s reputation preceded him, and the abrupt interruption of Jameson’s recount of his exploits all added up. Sartorius wanted us to know that he was in control. And it all made sense.

  The Sevens were terrified of losing control over their reputation and ultimately their provinces. Jameson and I had threatened that control by falling in love. Now, Sartorius was going to exercise his control and rebalance the power.

  When he spoke, his words came out slowly, demonstrating that it was on his own terms. “Your father was a fool. Only a fool ignores the warning to avoid someone and then actively pursues her.”

  Oddly enough, the flicker of a smile rose up on my lips.

  “You find that humorous?” he speculated.

  “Poignant,” I answered.

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because Jameson and I were warned to stay away from each other, too.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Jameson glance over at me.

  Sartorius’s face contorted in anger, and his fingers tightened around the top of his cane. He steadied his emotions before seething, “Yet another example of fools.”

  The inspiring notion that my mother and father had loved each other to the point of risking their lives to be together and that Jameson and I share the same love ended as another thought found its way in. I voiced it only to help ensure Jameson would leave this room alive and well.

  “Jameson and I are no longer together.”

  “It is unfortunate for you,” Sartorius replied, indifferently, “that it really doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”

  I knew immediately what he meant. He had determined, regardless of whether he believed us or not, we were still a threat.

  Sartorius moved quickly then, stepping forward the three paces it took to reach us. It was a calculated move, one that he’d clearly been delaying. Jameson saw him coming and moved in front of me. Sartorius’s eyes never deviated from mine as he placed a flat hand against Jameson. Immediately, the sizzle and smell of searing flesh filled the room. I saw Jameson bend over, grunting and clenching his teeth. That’s when I saw Sartorius’s hand. It was pressing against Jameson’s shoulder, fingers splayed and palm positioned to get as much coverage as possible.

  A quick snap of his fingers brought a Vire forward and he spoke an incantation so swiftly I almost didn’t comprehend what he was saying.

  “Silence these lips, blind these eyes. Punish them for their rebellion and lies.”

  Punish them for their rebellion and lies. That appeal repeated in my head, my terror growing with each succeeding word.

  No, they didn’t believe me. They believed Jameson and I were still together.

  I opened my mouth to shout, ward them off, challenge them, make them feel the threat of my own incantation, but no words came out. Next, my eyesight began to fail, as if a black cloak had been placed over my eyes, leaving me completely blind.

  Through the darkness, Sartorius’s blasé announcement reached my ears. “Death will come this day, but it will not hasten.”

  His insinuation was instantly clear to me. Sartorius was going to take his time with us. And, of course, he would. This was a moment he could relish. His two greatest nemeses were standing feebly before him, unable to protect or defend themselves. I knew without a doubt he would use every tool in his arsenal to make us feel the pain he endured while living in fear all these years.

  Now, it became clear what Miss Celia and Miss Mabelle had been preparing us to defend against throughout their lessons. This very moment.

  Jameson caught on and our hands found each other, gripping tightly. Soon, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me, an energy I knew came from both of us. I combined the casts I’d learned, repeating them in my head as the energy between Jameson and I grew.

  “Power be drawn and make us one with thee. Make us stronger, make us speak, make us see.”

  A few seconds later, Sartorius’s arms began to quiver.

  Encouraged, another cast raced through my mind. “I now repel this cast back to its caster. I return it to him harder and faster.”

  Sartorius’s grip began to slip from around my neck but before his fingers left my skin I included one final cast.

  “With this energy I bind your power, protecting us from you this day, this hour. I cast it aside and make it flee. Thine will be done, so make it be.”

  I felt Jameson’s surge of energy crash through me, the same one that sent Mrs. Gaul to the floor and our housekeepers across the cemetery. In reaction, Sartorius’s hands released us and his body flew across the room, colliding with the balcony railing, rattling it loudly against its bolts.

  My eyesight returned faster than I expected, which I figured was a result of the adrenaline releasing inside me. I knew we weren’t safe yet, so I eagerly surveyed the room. Sartorius’s Vires were still surrounding us, but they hadn’t moved. Now, they were leaning away, appalled by us, their expressions masked with terror. Sartorius’s temporary defeat must have truly impacted them. He’d landed against the railing, bending over, his palms raised to the sky, gawking as he watched the steam rise from his skin.

  Jameson and I stepped back, holding each other up, waiting for the Vires surrounding us to take us into custody. But it never happened.

  Jameson spoke through the weighty silence now filling the room. “If we disappear, if any Weatherford or any Caldwell disappears, Sartorius, word of our assault will reach every province and you will have it on your hands…” he drew in a deep breath and paused, exhibiting the boldness he felt. “You will have on your hands the rebellion you fear. Tell that to the other six.”

  Sartorius’s head rose, his jaw slack, his eyes bewildered, as he attempted to comprehend what just took place. His expression never changed as Jameson and I slowly backed our way out of the room.

  In the elevator, there was only time for Jameson’s arms to wrap around me in a quick embrace before the door opened again, the comfort of his scent surrounding me for the briefest second.<
br />
  By the time we were at the lobby doors that led to the street, Theleo was behind us again, trailing as usual, and Turcott was entering the hotel. Given that we’d just left Turcott in the room upstairs, it was safe to assume levitation was his given ability, one that felt wasted on a person like him.

  He stopped in front of us, enraged.

  “This isn’t over,” he warned.

  “Out of our way,” Jameson said.

  “I know who you are,” he hissed directly at me. “There is only one who can cure a seventh century curse. And when I collect my proof, and it is undisputable, The Sevens will wield it against you, uniting the provinces in our favor.”

  “Out of our way,” Jameson stated again, not bothering to wait, he brushed by Turcott so that their shoulders abruptly collided.

  “You’ll see,” Turcott said behind us, his voice confident enough to shake me. “You’ll see.”

  Just before Jameson’s hand released mine, he channeled, “Keep walking.”

  We did, all the way back to my car. It was dusk by the time we reached it and Jackson Square was slowly becoming deserted. Still, I didn’t speak until we were safely inside.

  “Was that a veiled threat? The one about us disappearing and word spreading to other provinces?” I asked, starting the car as Jameson lay down in the back seat. Despite having just worked together to overcome Sartorius, we both knew we had to continue the ruse of appearing separated. Our cover still wasn’t blown.

  “No, I meant it,” said Jameson, his voice muffled.

  “Think it’ll stop them?”

  “The Sevens? No. It’ll deter them long enough to come up with another plan.”

  “So we’ve basically just upped the ante.”

  Unfortunately, Jameson’s response wasn’t encouraging at all. “That…is a good way of putting it.”

  17 VOODOO

  I was silent for the rest of the ride, as we weaved through traffic. The weather was getting warmer and drawing in more tourists. This not only delayed us from getting to a safer location but also antagonized me to the point I kept my hand readied on the horn.