by Laury Falter
My mother was stunned at what just happened, unable to speak until Theleo had stood upright and left her side.
“Th-Thank you,” she said, so low it was barely audible. And there it was. It was as audible as it could be. A dent had just been made in her armor.
Theleo heard it.
He paused, peering back over his shoulder on his way to speak with the Vires who had come to our rescue and who had wisely positioned themselves several feet back.
With a stoic expression, he gave her a slow nod before turning back to acknowledge the man in front of him.
“Eli….”
“Theleo,” replied the man, more hesitant than cordial.
We stood at a distance, evaluating them as they struggled to catch their breath. Aside from Theleo, they were the only Vires I had ever seen hurt their own kind. Part of me expected them to suddenly charge us.
“We didn’t know…" said Eli, still trying to control his breathing, his thick German accent nearly obscuring his words, “…that they stayed behind, too.”
The tension was thick and no one spoke for a very long time.
“Why did you?” Jameson asked, skeptically.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He looked up from his crouched position, genuinely surprised.
Confused, I assessed him closer, finding no moldavite stone on the collar of his uniform.
“We are defecting.”
In the silence that followed, as we accepted what appeared to be their true appeal for refuge, my mother abruptly turned, marching toward me on her way to the door.
Eli was quick, figuring out her actions and determining where she was heading. “Don’t bother with the rest of your friends,” he warned, his voice both compassionate and convincing.
My mother stopped suddenly, keeping her back to him, the tops of her shoulders rising slightly with worry. “Why?” she demanded.
“Because, Isabella, they are all dead.”
After hearing that news, my mother swiped the dagger from Theleo’s hand, marching toward Eli, and flattening the cold metal blade against his throat.
10 LEADERSHIP
The room became a quiet firestorm of constrained emotions, no one was moving through the palpable tension. It was noticeable in the frozen breaths and in the multitude of eyes locked on my mother’s hand.
All it would take was a flick of her wrist and Eli would be dead.
She stared him directly in the eyes, unblinking, her breathing deep and controlled, applying enough pressure to his neck that he tilted his jaw away from the angle of the blade.
At the first sign of her attack, Eli had motioned to the men behind him, stopping them before they could retaliate.
Now, it was between him and my mother.
Jameson was the first to move, glimpsing over his shoulder ensuring I was still directly behind him, and still protected should these Vires reconsider defecting. But it was Eli who broke the anxious silence.
“If you were to end my life here, I would not blame you or harbor ill will. You’ve seen enough to know what we deserve. But, before you spill my blood, just know that my unit and I were not the ones who took the lives of your friends."
“And what of the ones who did?” she hissed, giving him no credence.
He knew what she was asking. It wasn’t who they were or where they could be found. He accurately read into the deeper meaning behind her question. What she wanted to know is: Where precisely does your loyalty lie? “Look down…You’ll find them at your feet,” he replied, proving his allegiance in a way even my mother couldn’t refute, because we had all witnessed the slaughter for ourselves.
My mother dropped her defenses, swiftly extending the dagger back to Theleo, who eagerly removed it from my mother’s fingers.
I inherited several things from her: long legs, stubbornness, and sarcasm. She used all three while walking away from Eli.
“Your presence at the village will be as well received as a swarm of bees.” To amplify the insult, she added with a chuckle, “Welcome to our home….”
Ironically, the rest of us took this as a warning, because she was, in fact, telling the truth. Intentional or not, she had given them a stark reminder of their dire situation: Vires had not only been the reason for most Dissenters’ incarceration but had ensured their lives were miserable since arriving. Exchanging wary looks, we stood in uncomfortable silence until Jameson spoke.
He waited until my mother was out the door before addressing Theleo. “Isabella’s tough, but she’s right. We will run into problems.”
“They’ll reside outside the village boundary with me,” he replied, attempting to assuage any concern we harbored. “As it is, I need assistance securing the borders.”
Jameson curtly nodded. “Then it looks like your defecting is well-timed.”
The men glanced at Theleo, and I could see them questioning what a stocky teenager had to do with their future; but before they had a chance to openly question Jameson’s authority, Theleo introduced them. Eli was given the recognition of leading the Omega Unit, which excelled in element casting. This explained their preference for hand combat in the hallway, given that there were limited elements to work with in the contained space. On the contrary, Theleo simply described Jameson by his full name and nothing more. That was all it took and the men’s eyebrows rose.
“You are of particular interest to Sartorius," Eli stated before disclosing his recognition of who Jameson really was, “…Nobilis.”
After introducing me, Eli spoke for all his men. “Relicuum and Nobilis,” he said, his voice muted in reverie, “it is our honor and privilege.”
Once more, we found ourselves under the inquisitive attention of complete strangers. The same feeling of reverence washed over me, like it did when the first of the freed prisoners had bowed.
A quick glance at Jameson proved he felt no discomfort at being recognized. All along, he stood in the shadows as I dealt with the fame, each of us believing his true identity remained relatively anonymous; but word had spread beyond New Orleans, beyond the penal colonies, and he would no longer be able to relish his anonymity.
“Jameson,” I stated firmly, addressing him as one would a general. “What’s the plan?”
A curious look swept across his face and quickly disappeared, as if it had been carried off by the wind. He understood I was shifting authority directly to him in front of Eli and his men, a responsibility he accepted with poise.
Taking a look out the window, I noticed the sky was brightening from the advancing sun, confirming we had run out of time. Jameson saw this, too.
“It’s time to head out.”
In unison, we strode for the door, me taking the lead to meet up with my mother before the rest of the Vires could.
“So the rumor is true,” Eli mused out loud. “Weatherfords and Caldwells have united.”
Jameson paused briefly before answering, expressing the teasing humor in his attitude, “If not, I’d prepare yourself for her vengeance. Jocelyn has a mean right hook.”
I sent a playful glare over my shoulder. “Not to worry. It’s reserved for The Sevens and Jameson Caldwell…exclusively.”
Catching onto the last part, Jameson burst into laughter. “Now lumping me in with that notorious group, are you, sweetheart?” he retorted, chuckling under this breath.
Eli, who must have been gifted with perceiving subtle hints, caught on and muttered, “You’ve united in more ways than one, I see.”
Recognizing his statement was meant rhetorically, Jameson and I remained quiet, allowing Eli and his men to think what they would.
Jameson and I had lived so long without being able to openly admit our feelings for each other that our banter seemed almost surreal. I enjoyed our new lack of restrictions so much that I found myself smiling.
Once outside, we detected lights slowly coming on and the smell of bacon and coffee beginning to drift down the street.
“Should we risk it?” asked one of Eli’s men, referring
to the possibility of being caught for levitating.
Another one of the men shrugged. “What kind of punishment could they possibly hand to us now?”
Theleo smiled, an uncommon expression for him, and replied, “They’ll have to catch us first.” To prove that would be difficult, he shot us into the air so fast our heads whipped back from the speed.
Theleo remained in front with the defectors, either out of concern for their safety or for introduction purposes; while my mother positioned herself behind them, placing her body between me and the defectors and watching them warily. She remained guarded around them - and rightfully so - but I sensed the men were relishing their newly found freedom; and it made them less intimidating.
They were finally experiencing something that the rest of us, to some measure, had been living with for most of our lives: independence from the prying eyes and brainwashed culture of The Sevens.
Most Vires had been infants when they were seized from their homes and were raised under the umbrella of volatile and submissive customs. I couldn’t blame them for seeking a way out…or for taking it once it was found.
These thoughts ran through my mind as Jameson was being levitated.
He was raised to meet me just as the city’s crisscrossed streets caught my eye; and I was reminded that beneath one of those roofs, stacked in the hallway of a disheveled house, lay a pile of dead Vires.
“What about the bodies?” I asked. "Shouldn't we clean them up?”
“When they don’t return, the ministry will send a crew to ensure any evidence of our world isn’t left lying around.”
I made a disgusted sound and sarcastically commented, “Well, that’s a terrific job….”
He hesitated and then gave me an awkward look. “No one told you what your Uncle Lester did at the ministry, did they?”
“Aunt Lizzy said he looked after the Vires,” I recalled tentatively, watching as his handsome face melted into a frown.
“And he did,” replied Jameson, struggling with his words.
“What?” I asked, no longer capable of holding back. “What don’t I know?”
Jameson winced slightly and explained, “He led the department that cleaned up the Vires’ kills.”
I drew in a sharp breath. Minutes passed with only the sound of muted voices ahead of us and the flap of our cloaks to fill our ears. I was too dazed to speak, too intent on piecing it all together.
“That’s why you chose Uncle Lester to train the recruits. That’s what you meant about him knowing what the Vires are capable of. He would…” I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “He would definitely know what they are capable of in that position.”
Jameson nodded slowly, allowing it to sink in.
Then something else occurred to me. “And that’s why he doesn’t say much,” I added sadly, more to myself than to Jameson.
I reflected back to the slaughtering of innocents in each of the penal colonies and of the bodies we’d just left behind. Though I had limited experience with that kind of destruction, I knew now that Uncle Lester had to endure it daily.
“Jameson,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as my emotions consumed me. “I can’t imagine anyone more perfect than you for the role of leading us against The Sevens.”
“Oh,” he laughed, more to himself than to me. “I can think of a few.”
“No, none of them would be equal to you.”
“You’re biased,” he reminded me modestly, with a wink.
To prove my case, I pointed out, “You assessed our talents, our abilities from the night we began hiding in the village. I suspect even before that, actually.”
He didn’t respond, but his reserved smile told me enough.
“You had this all planned out. The collection of the prisoners, removing them from harm….”
“The Vires attacks sped that up,” he stated, inadvertently giving me the answer I was waiting on.
“I knew it,” I breathed, once again in awe of him. “And the choosing of roles for our families….You knew which ones would be happiest, and most equipped, to take them on.”
“That’s not too difficult. They’re open books.”
Amazed, I laughed at him. “Is there any time you don’t see several steps ahead?”
“Yes,” he remarked, hesitating as his expression turned troubled. “When it comes to The Sevens.” That was understandable. “And when it comes to you.”
“Me?” I shouted loud enough for my mother to look back, but she quickly returned to scrutinizing the defectors.
“Yes,” Jameson said, grinning at my reaction. “You.”
“There’s nothing out of the ordinary about me. I’m not hard to figure out.”
“Oh no?” he said, amused by my assertion. “Should we start with you being The Relicuum? Or should we start with you, of all people, growing up completely unaware of our world? Or, how about, you being a Weatherford? Better yet, how about you being the one I fell for despite being a Weatherford?”
His reminder sent a surge of heat through my body and I had to force down the smile that rushed to my lips.
“It’s ironic that the person I fell in love with is so obtuse.”
Offended, my mouth fell open, even as I saw his teasing grin. He was so strikingly handsome I didn’t bother looking away immediately, even when his smile weakened.
“No, Jocelyn…,” he sighed. “If I knew you well enough, you would never have made it to the ministry.”
I stiffened at that memory and the pain it caused him.
“But that’s what makes you so intriguing.”
“I’m intriguing?” I whispered, reveling in his assessment of me. He dipped his head toward me, giving me a look that said I should already have known it. “Intriguing, beguiling, frustrating….”
I tilted my nose upward. “I’ll take those as compliments.”
“You should,” he replied, sincerely.
New Orleans came into view then, and because it was still night here, the lights from the city sparkled like a cluster of diamonds bordered by a swath of black velvet. Within that velvety stretch of darkness was a nearly imperceptible hint of light. The village. We reached it seconds later.
“Theleo’s improving his accuracy,” commented Jameson, tipping his head toward my mother who was landing on her dock, while we landed on Jameson’s.
Theleo and the defectors hovered overhead briefly, before rising above the trees and soaring toward the village border.
Jameson slipped his hand gently into mine and guided me toward the door. Our intentions were obvious, and from the moment my head landed on Jameson's warm, comforting chest, I slept soundly, better than any night since we’d arrived. At least that was the case until the shouting woke me.
“Enough,” bellowed Jameson, his standard response when someone was getting antagonistic. Even in my groggy state, I deduced that hostility was arising in the village.
Sitting up, I realized how rare this was. The camaraderie in the village was strong. Arguments were rare, much less ones that caused anyone to raise their voices to the level of waking me.
Looking out the window, across the waterway, I saw defectors standing in their Vire uniforms while Jameson and Theleo were attempting to head off an angry mob now inching their way forward. Unfortunately, it looked like this squabble had the potential to be far more volatile.
I rushed to slip on my cloak and open the door, which Theleo happened to notice. I wasn’t sure if I could be of any help, but Theleo seemed to think so, as he lifted me over the water and placed me next to Jameson, forcing some Dissenters back a few feet. They appeared surprised as I landed and then, oddly, culpable.
Jameson was busy trying to quell their anger, so I stood by quietly. It was nerve-racking watching him work, and yet, I marveled at his remarkable ability to control the crowd.
“Your concerns are valid,” he was saying. This appeased them, causing a few to ardently nod their heads. “Until you realize a key point.�
�
“Which is?” demanded a woman in an apron. Judging by the dough clinging to it, she’d been baking when the commotion began. It hadn’t dried yet, confirming the argument had broken out recently.
The crowd was steadily growing and the docks surrounding us were beginning to fill up.
Jameson began to answer, but was interrupted.
“They don’t belong here!” a man cried out. While the rage he felt may have been masked by his bearded face, his tone easily gave him way. “Why are you protecting them?” demanded another woman, fervently shrugging to prove her point. “They’ve tried to kill you and your girlfriend…The Relicuum!”
I was stunned. I’d forgotten they knew about The Sevens' attempt at the ministry to publicly execute us.
“How do you know they’re not infiltrators?” demanded a tall, thin man, his family stone, a pearl, indicative of balanced emotions; a trait he clearly wasn’t tapping into at the moment.
“Because,” said Jameson, weary of this argument, “that would be pointless. As I tried to explain earlier, they have the authority to invade us at any time. They’ve already proven that. Think about it. If these men, who have denounced their allegiance to the Vires by removing the moldavite stone from their uniform, chose to overtake us, they already would have.”
Silence followed, everyone in the crowd seeming to come to the same conclusion. An elderly man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls, with a pipe bobbing between his lips as he spoke, summed up their unanimous realization.
“Our Officer has a point.”
With emotions somewhat under control now, Jameson went on. “They are residing on the outskirts of the village. Their presence inside comes with good reason. They have news about The Sevens.” The fact Jameson knew this made me believe they had mentioned this to him before the mob gathered.
In a clear display of fickleness, a man shouted out, “Let’s have it!”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“We got a right to know, too!”
Reassuring them, Jameson gestured for them to quiet down. “We all have a right to hear the information. The men will explain it, here, on this dock, at dusk. Spread the word to the rest of the village,” Jameson instructed.