Savior

by Laury Falter

  Dazed, I stared at Jameson.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  Working on catching his breath, Jameson inhaled sharply. “Theleo.”

  And gradually I took in Jameson’s profile. He stood, ready for the next Vire, his jaw firmly set, his attention sweeping across the clearing. I was in awe; he was astonishing.

  Relaxing his stance, he made an announcement I honestly never expected to hear. “He’s the last of them.”

  As I was surveying the clearing with him, I witnessed something else astounding that had taken place in the midst of the conflict.

  The Vires now lay lifeless, forming a carpet of black uniforms and moldavite stones over which the prisoners stood triumphantly. Their bodies were no longer bent in weakness but erect with pride and purpose. I surveyed them, taking in the sight.

  These people had lost their homes and yet they managed to conquer their greatest fears, to defy the odds of survival. They didn’t seem to notice it in themselves though. Instead, they seemed attentive to a message being passed from one to the next.

  Then, collectively, they turned to face us.

  It was Tahitoa who vocalized it simply, humbly, having absolutely no idea how profoundly true his message would be.

  “We’re ready now.”

  9 DEFECTORS

  Weeks passed and our visits to other penal colonies steadily grew more dangerous. Sartorius began leaving a unit behind at every one of them he attacked in hopes of apprehending us; their numbers grew larger each time they failed. Jameson and Theleo were competent in their attack, striking by surprise from hidden positions. I was a bit disgruntled to be left out, but I understood their intention - to keep me safe.

  With each prison we visited, more inhabitants began to show they were waiting for us. Word was spreading that the legend was true: The Relicuum had become their savior. I shunned this perception, knowing full well that Jameson held that honor. He seemed content, nonetheless, in allowing them to believe it. Instead, he was thankful that he had less difficulty convincing them to return with us. Because of this, our village populace multiplied. Shacks and boats crowded the waterways. Traditions established in the penal colonies found their way here where an open exchange of new ideas was embraced. It was revitalizing, like a breath of fresh air wafted in, carrying away the sullen oppression our world had lived in for so long.

  Theleo continued to collect bugs from every penal colony, cultivating his small, personal zoo. But he dramatically improved his standing in the village when Uncle Lester agreed to let him offer recruits advice on how to dominate Vire defenses. My mother was the only holdout, retaining a stubborn contempt for him.

  Spencer and Dillon still had not found a solution to the one problem that continued to plague us - enabling the prisoners to use their abilities. It eluded them to the point they kept complex, detailed notes and missed meals because they were too engrossed to realize the time. It was the one factor that, despite Jameson’s growing army, we knew would jeopardize us in the end. If we couldn’t overpower them, it would be the equivalent of delivering lambs to the slaughter.

  Jameson and I preoccupied ourselves with the search for Maleko and Kalisha - a task that was proving to be increasingly problematic and left both of us wondering if The Sevens had done something different with them.

  To pass the time between our nightly visits, most of my waking hours were spent at the makeshift hospital, healing those with minor injuries or the occasional case of the flu. Jameson spent his time managing the village and all the nuances it entailed. The afternoons were spent lounging on his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. We’d managed to end our contact there so that we could actually get the sleep we were intending, but I couldn't deny that it was hard. We had a goal, a purpose to restore our energy not only through sleep but by being close to each other, recharging in our special way. It was during one of these afternoons that Charlotte knocked on our door again.

  “Duty is calling," she informed us, adding thumps of her fists loud enough to be heard by half the shacks on the water.

  Jameson remained still, delaying the interruption of our contact for as long as possible. “What’s it about?”

  “You’ll need to ask Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia that,” she shouted, although there was no need to. We were fully awake now.

  I opened my eyes to find Jameson staring thoughtfully at the corrugated tin ceiling, and for good reason. Those two ladies always seemed to carry important news with them….

  He sat up and slid off the bed, trying not to disturb me, before noticing I was already awake. Then he circled around and knelt beside me with a tender smile.

  I slipped my hand out from beneath the thin blanket and curled it around his neck to draw him closer; and a devilish grin rose to his lips as he recognized my intentions.

  But, of course, Charlotte prevented it.

  “They asked for you too, Jocelyn.”

  My eyes widened at the mention of my name and Jameson burst out laughing at my reaction.

  “Yep,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low so only I could hear. “Apparently, she figured out that you’re in here.”

  “Who else knows about me being here?” I called out to her, seeing no more reason for pretense.

  “Everyone, really,” she replied coolly, knowing it would have an effect on me. I was surprised she didn’t let my embarrassment linger. “Everyone but the parents, Jocelyn. Now get up! Tired of waiting out here for you.”

  I didn’t bother reminding her that she had just knocked on the door, not even two minutes ago. Instead, I stood, slipped on my cloak, and followed Jameson outside.

  When the door opened, it revealed a scowling Charlotte, her typical expression.

  Jameson noticed it, too. “Maybe we can find someone else to summon us?”

  “Oh, I volunteered.” Her face contorted into a sneer. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to confess I knew Jocelyn was in there, too.” She giggled snidely under her breath just thinking about it and turned to skip toward her boat.

  Her elation, however, turned back to its former bitterness as soon as we reached the shack where Jameson’s parents were staying; which was also now being used as the unofficial meeting quarters.

  “Yayas, trounced em’ like a pack a’ wolves, they said,” Miss Celia was asserting as we entered. “Hit ‘em hard, they said. Seemed to be on a rampage, they said.”

  “Hit hard?” muttered Mr. Caldwell, before the meaning set in and made him bolt upright. “We need to start notifying others.”

  “Already doin’ it,” declared Miss Mabelle.

  “I meant across the provinces,” he clarified.

  Miss Mabelle disdained being questioned, and showed it. “Already doin’ it!” she snapped back. Her ego ruffled, she wiggled a bit in her chair before adding, in a softer tone, “S’ why it took us so long ta get hea’ n’ tell ya. Ain’t easy ta find those Officers of yours.”

  “So The Sevens are now weeding us out by attacking the provinces,” Jameson deduced, his tone both sympathetic and troubled as he stood just inside the room. The rest of our families were already in the room, leaving little available space, so Charlotte and I stood at the door.

  Apparently, he’d figured out the gist of the details from Miss Celia’s rant, and given his propensity for logic, this didn’t surprise me.

  “Well,” said Miss Celia, her face veiled with empathy. “Have a feelin’ they’s still goin’ to attack them prisons, too. Far as they know, you two…” she nodded at Jameson and me, “…could be movin’ between them both.”

  The room fell silent at that perspective, a somber air seeming to encase us.

  “At what point will they stop?” I asked, rhetorically.

  “They won’t,” Jameson proclaimed. “They’ll do everything they can to get to us.”

  Again, I felt the strong desire to simply hand myself over to them. Only the memory of what would happen if I did prevented me from leaving that very second.

/>   As if he’d picked up on my thoughts, Nolan suggested, “We should find all The Sevens’ relatives. Do the same to them.”

  Alison immediately began to agree, but Jameson cut her off.

  “Then you can start with your cousin,” Jameson said with a tip of his head toward me, pointing out the absurdity of that concept.

  “Oh, right,” mumbled Nolan. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Do you know how many times I’ve considered giving myself up?” Of course, he had no idea, but this seemed to surprise him.

  “How many?” my mother asked tightly.

  “You don’t really want to know, Isabella,” Jameson interjected, attempting to stave off the escalating tension in the room.

  My mother’s pinched lips told me that she didn’t approve, but she seemed to recover quickly. “It wouldn’t matter,” she sighed. “The Sevens wouldn’t be affected if we put their relatives in danger. They lack our ethics.”

  Everyone in the room stiffened at her statement as an understanding of the extent The Sevens would go to find Jameson and me washing over all of us simultaneously.

  “Was anyone hurt in the attack?” I asked, not entirely certain I wanted to hear the answer.

  “Yayas,” Miss Mabelle replied tersely, a pointed expression on her face. “Now you know ‘bout it, you gonna do anythin’? Or you gonna just stand there?”

  “Miss Mabelle-" Jameson started to warn her, but she cut him off, listing the people who had been assaulted.

  As she continued, my mother stepped forward, intrigued.

  “Is something wrong, Isabella, dear?” asked Aunt Lizzy, who had been surprisingly quiet during the course of the discussion. Clearly, she had been paying attention.

  “Those are my associates you just listed,” she replied, warily, directing her statement at Miss Mabelle.

  “And I’m thinkin’ The Sevens know it.”

  My mother spun around to face Jameson and me. “I’m coming with you. And I won’t take no for an answer.” She glanced outside, noting the sun had set, and asked, “Where’s our transport?”

  She was referring to Theleo, but wouldn't show him enough respect to use his name.

  “Outside,” I grumbled.

  Spinning on her heel, she marched through the door where her voice could easily be heard. “You’ll need to bring us to Moscow at once.”

  I sighed, knowing there was nothing much I could do about her attitude. Instead, we thanked Miss Mabelle, who frowned, and Miss Celia, who nodded, before leaving the silent room.

  It was eerie hearing only the squeak of the boards beneath our feet. Even the rest of the bayou seemed to feel the tension, animals and insects included. There was no jazz tune being played, no hum of a boat motor, not even the chirp of a cricket. It was as if they knew we were walking toward our demise.

  Theleo and my mother ended up on opposite ends of the dock, neither speaking a word as he levitated us into the air.

  Typically, Theleo would lead with Jameson and me in the back, allowing us some measure of privacy. This time, he put Jameson beside him and kept my mother and me a good distance back.

  During the short time we were in the air, I remained silent, attempting to control my anger. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, it finally became too much to bear.

  “Do you think you could go easy on Theleo? Just a little?”

  She didn't respond, making her intentions clear.

  “He’s doing everything he can not to be contentious, you know. He virtually never speaks, lives on the very edge of the village like an outcast, and has done everything we’ve asked of him. He’s even working with Uncle Lester to prepare everyone for the next time the Vires invade the village, which we all know will happen. There’s no reason for him to do all of this, but he does it anyway."

  With a sharp edge to her voice, she retorted, “Do you recall that he’s a Vire, and as such, has taken lives?”

  “Do you know that he has saved my life? More than once?” I asked frankly.

  My mother opened her mouth only to clamp it shut again, apparently thinking better about what she was going to say.

  And then the reason for her animosity became clear. I had been so ignorant! Of course, she would have trouble accepting him. Suddenly, my anger ebbed away.

  “You know, don’t you?” I asked, so concerned about her reaction I could barely choke out the words.

  “I know what?” she replied, keeping her eyes straight ahead, evading mine.

  “You do.” I could tell by the way she was avoiding discussing it. “That’s why you can’t control your anger around him.” I forced the air from my lungs in an exaggerated huff, but she refused to acknowledge me. “He didn’t…it wasn’t intentional.”

  She scoffed, confirming the truth.

  “So you do know he killed my father,” I stated as softly as possible.

  I watched my mother's face twist with rage before settling in sorrow. I had never witnessed so much grief - so much emotion - coming from her. It was telling of what she had gone through all these years, living close to the person who took the man she loved and, yet, being unable to right the wrong in any way. To convince The Sevens of her ignorance on the issue, she wouldn’t even have been able to risk a sour expression in his direction. And it had annihilated her inside.

  There are some times when words fail. This was one of them. So, I took her hand and held it the rest of our time in the air.

  She had already given Theleo directions, so they didn’t interact as we landed on a vacant street of brownstone houses. We had left New Orleans at dusk and it was now dawn here, the first rays of filtered light streaming through the trees and across the quiet stretch of homes. It was surreal, both because the day was just starting again and because this peaceful street didn’t look at all like the scene of a Vire attack.

  Seeking out a particular home, my mother climbed the steps two at a time, reaching the porch before the rest of us. She didn’t bother knocking, opening the door and entering without an announcement of any kind.

  The first thing I noticed, in the shadowy hallway beyond, was the chair on its side, tossed against the wall. The next was Theleo’s hand, silently motioning us to stay back. He’d sensed something.

  Immediately, Jameson moved in front of me, trying to protect me. From the porch, I could hear my mother's footsteps as she walked through the house, but suddenly, I heard something else, a sound that will haunt me forever…her body violently slamming against the wall. Theleo sprinted into the house, and Jameson followed directly behind him. They must have thought I’d remain safely behind since that was what I’d been doing during every other altercation with the Vires.

  Not this time.

  In those seconds it took for me to reach the far end of the house, I caught glimpses of the rooms I passed. A ritual had been set up in the living room but it didn't look like it had ever been completed; the extinguished candles still stood in their silver holders, and symbols made of yarn were stretched across the wood floor, held in place with tacks. Evidence of a struggle was everywhere, with furniture overturned and blood splattered across the walls.

  The end of the house boasted a long, dim hallway to the right. From the other end came an onslaught of Vires, their faces scowling, testament to the one purpose they had in mind: to kill. In the middle, stood my mother, struggling against the first Vire to reach her, his hands squeezing her neck so tightly that the thin skin along her neck became stretched beneath them.

  They weren’t bothering with casts. There wasn’t enough time. Instead, they were using the weapons we are all born with…hands and fists.

  Theleo was busy deflecting an assault from two Vires, while Jameson pummeled the faces of another two emerging from the onslaught rushing toward us.

  When I last saw Jameson in a struggle it terrified and amazed me. This time was no different. He fought with incredible speed, moving so fast his limbs became a blur.

  My first instinct was to dislodge the hands from my m
other’s neck, but when I conjured the force inside me to levitate the Vire, it didn’t even occur to me that I might be unable to, that my energy might still be depleted from the village. So when the Vire lifted off the ground and slammed into the ceiling above, I didn’t wait to be surprised. Focusing entirely on the bodies behind my mother, I lifted them into the air one by one and sent them upward until their heads met the plaster above.

  Still more advanced, even as we fought against them, their numbers seemed insurmountable. We began perspiring and our bodies began shaking from exhaustion. And then, I noticed something happening that didn’t make sense…none at all.

  At the opposite end of the hallway, Vires began to fall, their heads either flying into the walls or their bodies collapsing out of sight.

  I strained to see who was coming to our defense, but the movement and lack of light obscured any view until they were midway down the hall.

  And then my heart came to a standstill.

  It couldn’t be. I’m envisioning it, I reasoned. This…No…I…No.

  My mind couldn’t come to terms with what it was processing because the idea of it was unbelievable. But sure enough, there they were…

  Vires fighting Vires.

  They moved through the remaining ones until only one remained.

  Realizing he now stood alone, his head began whipping frantically from side to side, but there was no way out. His unit’s intended goal was becoming his outcome. He was the one surrounded.

  I saw the understanding of it cross his face and then he swung around in a blind panic, extending his arm and directing it at my mother.

  “Incantatio-” he screamed - his final word, the rest becoming a gurgle as blood flooded his mouth, his cast never coming to fruition.

  As his shoulders slumped forward and his arm fell to his side, my mother was given a full view of the person who had saved her.

  Theleo jerked his dagger from the man's throat, releasing the weight of his body and allowing it to slump to the ground. He didn’t wait for a thank you, instead, bending to wipe the blood from his blade across the man whose life he’d just taken.