by Laury Falter
“I was told you had a mouth.”
Peregrine stepped into the stream of light that cascaded from the windows of the shack beside us. The faded beams made him looked paler and more intimidating, as if he had risen from the dead.
Jameson inhaled sharply. I didn’t hear it, but I saw it. The abrupt rise of his shoulders sent me a signal that he was just as surprised as I was to see this man - the man whose throat he had slit - now alive and talking.
“Yes,” hissed Peregrine. “I do live."
He allowed this to register, giving us time to come to some understanding of it without offering any explanation. Although I couldn’t.
“But I saw the blood, the…,” I swallowed back the sickening lump in my throat, “…the tendons…exposed.”
Peregrine grinned, his loose cheeks folding over themselves as his lips lifted to reveal grisly, tainted teeth. “One of my many talents. Although I understand you have quite a few yourself. Healing. Levitation. Channeling. Unfortunately, none of them will work for you here, or in any other penal colony for that matter.”
It was an eerie reminder of just how vulnerable we were and why Jameson was so concerned for my safety when the flood of our world’s refugees entered the village.
He had been right.
Peregrine stepped through the circle of Vires, his eyes suddenly set on Jameson.
“I can see you thinking, rationalizing, attempting to find a way out. That’s what you do best, isn’t it, Nobilis? You evaluate, plan, and execute.” Peregrine grinned again, this time much deeper. “We execute, too.”
This, I knew, was a clever play on words. By execute, he didn't mean carrying out actions; he meant murder.
“You can stop evaluating now. There is no escape. You cannot fight us off and you cannot call for help. You are mine.” Peregrine spun around, clasping his hands behind his back, and strolled through the Vires, teasingly weaving in and out of the circle.
“What you don’t understand is that you have always been ours. The prophecy led me here tonight; it has, in fact, been an effective tool in telling me how to defeat you.” Peregrine chortled before continuing with repugnance. “Ridiculous witches…placing those pieces of paper on such a pedestal. You’ve frightened yourselves out of realizing what they truly are. They are instruments, Jameson, to allow one side to gain the upper hand, to give one party the power needed to prevent – or initiate - the war believed to be coming. It’s a very good thing, indeed, that we have the full set.”
Despite this harsh reality that we were at a distinct disadvantage, Jameson made no move, no sound, focusing instead on appraising our grim situation.
“Ironically, with every diversion, every disruption we have made to the records’ predictions, they remain on course, as accurate as can be. Which meant you two would be here, in this particular penal colony…tonight.”
“And an exodus will lead to a failed revolution,” muttered Jameson, to which Peregrine’s face lit up, recognizing it as part of the records.
“Don’t fool yourself. Only I know the truth of our future.”
He leaned in toward me, swiftly, tauntingly. “Only I know whether this will be it,” he whispered. “The moment that you take his life, your lover’s life.”
I shivered as goose bumps crawled up my arms.
“Don’t listen to him, Jocelyn.”
I was trying not to, but he was winning.
Peregrine continued, ignoring Jameson. “Such poignant sorrow. Who would have thought The Relicuum and The Nobilis would fall in love? Such is fate…So will you do it, Relicuum? Will you end his life to save the lives of the innocent? To save the world from domination…annihilation? Your family, everyone, are all relying on you, Relicuum. Will you fulfill your destiny tonight?”
He then made an abrupt move…one I never saw coming.
His hand extended and there, at the end, wrapped in his fingers, was a dagger.
He offered it to me, his fingers unfolding one by one, making it easier for me to grab. “Will this be the night The Relicuum brings an end to The Nobilis?” he taunted.
Anger rapidly swelled inside me, the kind that made it difficult not to lash out, to use the weapon in my hand. I wanted to use the weapon on him, to end his toying. But the Vires stood so close, I knew they would use my action to condone taking Jameson’s life – and that would be the fulfillment of Peregrine’s intimation.
He stared back at me, waiting.
I had words for him, ones that would be stringent to the ears but would feel so good being released. But then he would know that he had won, because this was a game to him. He couldn’t care less if I ended Jameson’s life, so long as it ended tonight.
And so I turned my head away from him, letting my silence convey my answer.
After an exaggerated silence, when I was sure my point was made, I turned back and saw a knowing smirk ominously lifting his cheeks.
A game. This was all just a game to him. But he had grown tired of it, causing him to step back, his weary expression fading to annoyance.
“Kill them both. Separate the bodies and leave them here for the Dissidents to find.”
With that, Peregrine headed for the door, utterly confident that his order would be carried out. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at us.
“You have grit…both of you. Your focus was simply in the wrong direction.”
While I had the feeling he was being intentionally vague, I knew what he meant. Had we used our grit in a more savvy way, jeopardized lives to take his, we may have escaped this fate. They way The Sevens thought sickened me.
The moment the door closed, Jameson made the first move, snaking deftly through and around the men, slicing throats and cracking necks. He was a whirlwind, his arms and the edges of his cloak riding outward with staggering speed and determination. Bodies fell like weighted sacks to the floor, their thumps deafening my ears. I couldn't believe he could move so fast…and with such precision. The sight of it was staggering.
As Jameson he took them on, one came for me, weaving his way through the maelstrom until he was suddenly standing right in front of me, reaching for me. By pure instinct, I twisted across the floorboards, whipping through the air and using the man’s body as leverage. When I stopped, I was behind him and he was slamming into the door. It rattled violently, the top hinges loosening enough that it bent outward, allowing more light into the room. The added illumination allowed me to see Jameson grinning proudly as he swept passed a Vire and headed for another. I didn’t understand it at first. This was no time to be pleased. Then I realized he’d seen me thwart a Vire.
I wasn’t in the clear, though. The Vire came again, and this time he didn’t underestimate me. Prepared for any movement, he followed me to the side, where he shoved me against the wall. The rutted wood dug into my back, sending an explosion of pain through my torso. My breath was frozen in my chest, causing a moan to escape my pinched lips. By then, the Vire had his hand around my neck and I could feel the tips of his fingers squeezing along the back of it, burrowing into my skin.
They were ripped from my neck at the same time I saw Jameson’s face flash behind him. The man was sent flying across the room, his body lifting horizontally from the force and crashing into the wall just below the window.
The glass trembled, sending a long crack snaking down the center. Had it broken it would have drawn attention to our shack, and we might have had a chance.
The two Vires who were preoccupied with Jameson came up behind him and I opened my mouth to scream, my vocal cords stiffening just as Jameson’s hands swung back, a dagger suddenly appearing in each. His fists landed solidly in each Vires abdomen, fixing in place until the bodies began to crumble. At that point, he jerked the blades free and spun to face the room.
No one moved.
We stood to the side, watching for any sign of movement, a rise of the chest or a flinch of a muscle. My eyes, having adjusted to the dark, caught nothing.
I wrapped my arms around
his neck then and pulled him close.
“Jameson,” I mumbled. “Theleo-”
“Taught me well,” he agreed. When we settled back to survey the damage he’d done, I realized what an understatement that was.
He bent down, wiping the blood from his daggers on the side of a Vire’s hip and then stood, sliding each weapon into place within his cloak.
It was a second too early.
Just as the daggers dropped into their sheaths, two bodies stirred behind him.
“Jameson!” I called out, but the Vires were already on their feet.
One hooked his forearm around Jameson’s neck while the other took Jameson’s hands and yanked them backwards.
I charged them but it was clumsy and I was easily restrained before causing any serious damage.
“Not much of a challenge, is she?” said one to the other, his nasally Welch accent standing out to me as he adjusted his grip around my shoulders.
The other one replied with a snicker, and an intentionally humiliating statement. “Neither is he.”
The two chuckled as they led us to the door, stopping abruptly just before it.
“This is how we’re going to leave,” informed the one who now held Jameson.
“Leave?” I asked, stunned.
We had all heard Peregrine’s final command, the one to kill us, and they were intentionally ignoring it. Besides the defectors, I had never heard of a Vire thinking for themselves.
“So your loyalty isn’t to Peregrine,” mused Jameson, who’d picked up on the hint, too.
Comprehending his understated meaning, the one holding me seethed, “We are ‘ent fer sale.”
Without giving Jameson the chance to barter, the one holding him interrupted, “Since you’ve killed Max, we’ll be walking out. That means no talking, no calling attention to yourself, no looking for an escape. If you do, one of you dies. Do you understand?”
“You sound afraid. Does our prisoner army intimidate you?” taunted Jameson.
I stifled a laugh at his open ridicule, but this didn’t go unpunished.
The man tightened his hold on Jameson, twisting his wrists until he grimaced.
“Stop.” Both Vires were surprised to hear this demand come from my mouth.
I sensed their interest in toying with me at Jameson’s expense, the indication coming from their malicious grins. To keep them in check, and prevent them from demonstrating their power any further, I quickly added, “Sartorius will want us intact.”
They exchanged inquisitive looks and I knew I’d guessed correctly.
While they were still muddling through piecing together how I’d known which Seven had sent them, Jameson gave me a look that reminded me that he hadn’t been disarmed. I repositioned myself to slip my hand inside his cloak when the one behind Jameson caught on.
He grunted while leaning toward Jameson and removing the two daggers I’d been about to retrieve. “Don’t want you using these again,” he muttered.
“The side o’ me got a good scrape,” commented the Welch Englishman holding me. “Goin’ ta have ta get me revenge fer it, ya.”
His threat lingered as the one holding Jameson aggressively forced the hoods up onto our heads and kicked open the door. We were shoved outside and a single thought ruled my consciousness: We are now completely defenseless and entirely overpowered.
Purely by instinct and disregarding the warning we’d been given, I immediately began looking for a way to defend ourselves. We would need to do it alone or risk the lives of those who would come to our rescue.
My eyes scanned the area, noting that Jameson was doing the same.
Unfortunately, no opportunity crossed our paths. With each plank we crossed and every dock we traversed, we moved closer to the boundary of the village, farther from people and from any possible help.
Going against the flood of people coming in proved to be a challenge. We had to weave between luggage, roaming children, and wandering, dazed adults, all of which slowed us down. For them, I was incredibly thankful. They gave us time. Yet, as the sounds of the village quieted we reached the long, slender plank which acted as our pier. Numerous boats were normally docked there, but tonight I saw only one, a canoe. The rest of them were in use transporting passengers and possessions to their new living quarters.
“Get in,” the Englishman behind me commanded, and I stepped down into the hull. Jameson followed, settling down on the bench beside me. After securing our wrists with rope, the Englishman rowed in the rear while the other one sat directly behind us.
They avoided the main channels where new arrivals were coming in and stayed to the narrower, more vacant ones to the west. Progressively, the sounds of the village faded away and were replaced with the noises of the remote bayou: the hushed rippling of water as an alligator slithered along, the flap of an owl's wings as it left for a nighttime feeding, the splintering of a tree branch as it ripped from a decaying tree and plunged into the murky water.
The entire time, I focused on finding a way out for Jameson…or possibly both of us. With there being only two Vires, I had some measure of hope. There was a possibility, although a slim one, that we could take them on. We had almost reached the edge of the penal colony that suppressed our abilities. There, we might have a chance. Our abilities might return just enough to help us get out of this mess.
Then the Englishman navigated the canoe around a bend and my hope crumbled. Standing shoulder to shoulder, along the lapping edge of the waterline, was an army of Vires.
As I worked at settling my nerves, something else entirely unexpected happened. Words began drifting through my mind, ones that weren’t my own.
“Sartorius’ army…” they mused, carrying no worry in their tone, only contemplation.
What surprised me the most was that I recognized the voice.
It was Jameson’s.
Quickly, I dropped my gaze and found our legs were pressed together, an unconscious move in the midst of a menacing situation.
And then I recognized the significance of hearing him.
“Jameson,” I channeled back to him, attempting to keep the excitement from my expression. Every one of the Vires seemed to have their eyes locked on me. “Jameson, they’ve lifted the cast. Spencer and Dillon-”
“Lifted the cast,” Jameson’s voice interlaced with mine, catching on to follow my line of thought. He sighed with elation, quietly, undetectably. “And just in time…Jocelyn, when I tell you, send us into the sky as fast as you can.”
We had almost reached the muddy bank and time was running out.
I closed my eyes slowly, focusing entirely on conjuring the energy inside me. Strangely, it felt emulsified, like a peculiar slippery coating made it impenetrable. And I understood why. I hadn’t been able to use it or exercise it to its fullest ability for months. Other than to heal others, which had been augmented by Jameson’s channeling, it had been idle. Like anything left unappreciated for an extended period of time, it had begun to dwindle.
Then I heard Jameson’s voice, sudden and pressing. “Now, Jocelyn. Now!”
I directed all the energy I was able to summon into levitation then, but we remained in the same position, never leaving our seats.
It had been easier the first time I’d levitated, I realized. Shoving back that disheartening thought wasn’t easy, and neither was my next attempt, which failed.
“Jocelyn?” Jameson channeled to me, his voice urgent and filled with concern. I flipped my eyelids open.
We’d reached the shore.
The canoe ran aground on the muddy bank, sending all our bodies violently jerking forward.
“Are you all right?” Jameson asked, just as concerned about the jolt as to why we weren’t in the air.
I opened my mouth fully intending to speak but found that I was only able to shrug. The truth was, I didn’t know….
“Stand,” said the Englishman, his voice penetrating my awareness.
I hoisted myself to my feet. Yet, ju
st as my knees straightened, my toes left the canoe and I was shot into the air. The next thing I knew, I was being carried over the bayou.
A single black cloak stood out within the swarm of black uniforms around me.
“Jocelyn!”
“I’m here!” I called out, and his head snapped in my direction, his face first showing relief and then falling in disappointment. He didn’t want me here anymore than I wanted to be.
We reached for each other, our hands stretching across the distance, trying to close the gap between us.
“Jameson.”
“Jocelyn.”
And then he was gone, jerked away, shooting into the distance, his black cloak flapping at the edges from the force of velocity.
“Jameson!” I screamed, but he continued to disappear, merging with the night sky.
The Vires surrounding us reached that far so I knew two factors at once. First, Jameson was now on the edge of the group. Second, someone had separated us.
As my eyes swept across our abductors, I noticed one particular Vire a few yards in front of me. He had been peering over his shoulder but was now staring straight ahead with the rest of them.
His message was clear…we were now at their whim.
Jameson’s and my future became impeccably clear then, stifling any rational thought attempting to come forth. I was captured by the realization of what lay ahead for us.
We would be taken, and used, at Sartorius’s discretion. He would undoubtedly force us to perform heinous acts, threatening to destroy either Jameson or me if either of us didn’t perform for him. And once his plans had been executed we would be imprisoned until the next crime could be committed.
We would be alive, but only in body. He would destroy our spirit, dominating us until we were nothing more than the object he saw us to be.
These realizations flooded forth when something injected itself into the middle of the Vires, crossing the night sky so fast it became a blur. I watched with puzzlement as bodies spiraled into space, crashing into each other, disrupting the perfectly aligned flock.
And then another slammed into them.
And another.
Whatever was coming at our abductors were like speeding bullets, only larger and with far greater impact.