“Maybe,” she said plainly, emotionless, even though they were staring at her like she’d lost her mind. “But I’m also saying that Sartorius, and very likely the other Sevens, are not human.”
Kalisha, who had been obscured by the dark corner where the lantern’s light didn’t extend, stepped forward, sending nearly everyone in the room to their feet.
“She’s right,” said Kalisha. “I’ve seen the wings myself.”
Having no idea who this woman was, they gawked at her, trying to determine her reason for being here, and, more importantly, her trustworthiness. They had a lot to lose by coming here, their lives included.
Jocelyn saw their alarm and stepped in. “Kalisha was in prison with me for the last nine weeks, although she was incarcerated a lot longer than I was.” They assessed her even closer then, a reaction that I figured stemmed from empathy. “She has information that The Sevens want to keep to themselves, so they locked her up for…,” She turned to Kalisha. “How many years?”
“Over twenty,” she mumbled, maintaining a vigilant eye on the room. “I lost count.”
“The information is about our future, all of us,” said Jocelyn before delivering the most impactful part. “Because it’s the contents of the last record.”
There was no need to mention which record. They guessed it immediately, and everyone in the room leaned forward.
Jocelyn ushered Kalisha farther into the room, a move the defected Vire clearly hesitated over making. Standing awkwardly before the rest of our families, she delivered the information we all wanted – but were apprehensive – about hearing.
“When my contingent agreed to separate and move in opposite directions, I had nowhere to go. Before…before defecting,” she paused to assess what impact this might have on her audience. Seeing none, she continued with some small measure of relief. “I was stationed in countries throughout Africa. I knew there was a risk I’d be found there if I returned, but it was the best place to blend in, become part of the populace. I found a village, small, on the outskirts of Jima, in southwestern Ethiopia. I married a nice man, gave birth to a beautiful child, and raised many goats. No one knew of the record, not my husband, not my child. This was to keep my family – and my village – safe. But one day I fell ill, very ill,” she enunciated as her gaze sank and she shuddered at the memory of it. “The illness was difficult, nearly taking my life, but that wasn’t…it wasn’t what took my life. It was what took my soul.” Her lips briefly pinched closed in anger. “I truly believed I would die. I have never been so close to death. They called the preacher to make sure he would be ready for my passing. But before I did, I had to give someone the Great Secret. It could not be left to The Sevens alone. Someone had to be told. So I asked my husband to find someone who could read Latin. This was the language the records were written in. I speak many languages, and I can extrapolate from the Latin word, but I am not fluent. And this was too important a message to leave to hearsay and assumptions. He brought me an old man, an elder in the village who had been trained in the city. I told them where the record was buried, and they brought it to me. As he put to voice the words I had so carefully hidden, I saw the terror come to his eyes. He was reading ahead, you understand. Having figured out quickly what the record was, he couldn’t stop himself. When it became too much, he refused, trying to hand it to my husband. They argued. It was their voices, the level at which they spoke to each other that kept us from hearing what was coming.” She halted, her eyes glassing over, and it was clear she began reliving that potent memory.
“Kalisha?” I prompted.
She blinked several times, raised her head again, and continued in quiet anguish. “They came through our village like flaming ghosts, lighting our homes on fire. These were Vires who I knew, trained with. I saved some of them from a sure death in past conflicts. They took my husband, my son, and they….” She stopped, this time swallowing back the tears. “They found me. They found me and then took everything from me. And I will give anything to see my vengeance done,” she seethed, “because what they left, all they left were words on a page. Words that told of the future…It said that forces would unite, a movement that would begin quietly and gain momentum as The Sevens fell. It said that a noble lass – a term converted over the years to Nobilis – would lead them. It said the Relicuum would acquire the elements by death of a Vire. This would be pivotal, the completion of her cycle of rebirth. It said she and the Nobilis would bring to an end a conquest by six winged beings. The six would die one by one in varying ways. The seventh would live to witness an act of altruism, an act in which the Relicuum takes the life of the Nobilis. This act leads to the end of the war.”
When Kalisha finished, the entire room sat quietly staring back at her, dazed, as if they hadn’t picked up a word of what she had said. It was Charlotte who reacted first.
Bolting to her feet, she demanded, “You are going to kill my brother?”
“Quiet down, Charlotte,” I warned. Always so dramatic….
“I will not,” she snapped, although the level of her voice was lower when she spoke again. “Is that correct?” she persisted, her fury directed at Kalisha. “It said that she,” she pointed a finger toward Jocelyn, “would murder my brother?”
Kalisha appeared very uncertain at the moment.
I was about to step in again when my mother reacted to the news.
“That’s…,” she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “That’s never been written in the archives…no history books mentioned it…and it’s not an insignificant detail.” It was clear to me, even before she asked her next question that she didn’t want to believe Kalisha. “How can…how can you be certain?”
“It’s the records that tell us the future,” said Kalisha, her meaning clear. She was doing nothing other than conveying their contents.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” Charlotte was still at it, seething like a rabid dog.
“Knock it off, Charlotte,” I warned.
“We’re talking about your life, Jameson, but you’re taking a cavalier approach about this whole thing,” she pointed out, and then she stopped and her eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?”
She could see right through me. She always could. Even as kids, she knew when I was the one who snuck the last brownie off the plate. That was one of her gifts. And one of her faults was pigheadedness. Charlotte wasn’t one to back down until she was answered, so I gave her what she wanted, sort of. “A while. That’s the best answer you’ll get from me.”
She shot me an exasperated look, and then I saw the face I knew so well, an expression that meant she was now on the war path. “Am I the only one in this family who cares?”
“No,” said Burke, standing. “You’re not.”’
This was heading in the wrong direction.
“I’m with you, too,” Alison stated, pushing herself off the wall and folding her arms across her chest.
Dillon was quiet about his support, showing it by standing with an uncomfortable, downward gaze.
My parents remained seated, although they didn’t need to make an exhibition of their support.
Then, in almost perfect synch, every sibling in the Weatherford family stood.
This was getting out of control.
Frustrated, I walked into the middle of the room. “Drawing a line in the sand won’t solve anything. We need to stay together, united. There are far stronger forces preparing to kill us. They are the ones we need to focus on, and they-”
“Aren’t here in this room,” Charlotte pointed out. “She’s the threat, Jameson. Don’t you see that?”
As much as I didn’t want it to, that perspective, that unproven viewpoint, incensed me, and I had to consciously subdue the words of retaliation from coming out. After a long pause to steady myself, I tried to reason with her while influencing the rest of those listening. “When Jocelyn and I started to date, none of you spoke to me for weeks. You left me alone at the breakfast table, you walke
d out of the room when I walked in. You avoided me at school during lunch.”
Jocelyn reacted to my admission with a surprised turn of her head.
“And when you finally sat down to talk me out of my feelings for her, you pointed out everything that her family had been blamed for.” I allowed that to sink in and then added, “We assumed they were guilty without ever looking at the facts. And the facts are, she hasn’t made a single move to hurt me…ever. Everything she has ever done has been for the purpose of keeping me safe. Are you going to see her as guilty before proven innocent? Are you going to make the same mistake again?”
I have them, I thought. My points are valid. They can’t dispute them. This argument is over.
I even saw the surfacing of apprehension in Burke’s face.
And then my mother, my own mother, stood up, and her words made me feel as if I were being gutted. “We all know how you feel about Jocelyn. And sometimes – I’m not saying this is one of those times – but sometimes, those feelings can cloud our judgment. Yes, we were wrong about the past, but the records were written to tell us the future, and they have been accurate thus far.”
“Which doesn’t prove a damn thing.”
“Now, that’s enough,” she retorted sternly.
I couldn’t believe she was scolding me. That tone hadn’t been used on me since I was ten and I told her that I wanted nothing at all to do with being the Nobilis.
The tension in the room was so thick I felt if someone didn’t open the door, I was going to open the window, by breaking it with my fist.
“There’s something you’ve forgotten,” I said, hearing the fury in my voice and allowing it. “You like her, too.”
Without hesitating, Alison commented snidely, “That was before we knew she was going to kill you.”
I instantly turned my head in her direction. When she noticed the look in my eyes, she took a step back. “She is the woman I love. You’re going to need to accept that.”
“Enough, Jameson,” Charlotte snapped. “Sometimes people need to be saved from themselves.”
“So you’re willing to condemn someone before they’ve done what you only believe they will do?” I countered.
“Yes,” she replied, firmly.
“Careful, Charlotte,” I warned, knowing full well that she wouldn’t like my next statement, because it was too damn close to the truth. “You sound a lot like The Sevens right now.”
Her eyes widened as she sucked in a sharp breath. But the expletive she was preparing to utter never made it out.
From behind me, in a quiet, firm voice, Estelle began, “Incantatio-”
“Go ahead,” Charlotte sneered. “Casts don’t work here in the village, remember?”
“Stillo,” Estelle finished with unabated satisfaction.
“Wait!” Jocelyn shouted, because she remembered what I had – that the cast over the bayou had been lifted. Unfortunately, we were too late.
When Charlotte’s mouth began to drool I mentally translated the Latin word ‘stillo’, although watching the result would have been sufficient.
“Dribble?” asked Dillon, who was still studying the language.
And that’s exactly what Charlotte’s mouth began to do. Slowly at first, and then flowing to a rapid gush, until she was left bent over, cupping the spit pouring from her mouth.
6
BAD BLOOD
“RECANT!” MY MOTHER SHOUTED IN A way I’d never heard before. “Recant your cast right now!”
But Mrs. Weatherford didn’t seem capable of letting that haranguing go by without addressing it. “If your daughter would keep her mouth closed, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.”
Her message was twofold, and we all knew it. Charlotte shouldn’t have provoked a fight, but because she had, Lizzy was going to mock her for the drool.
Several snickers hissed at that remark, all of which came from the Weatherford side. And that was the spark that lit up the room. A second later it became a maelstrom, a disorganized symphony of casts and chants.
“Sanguis innocentium…”
“Scale of serpent, claw of cat…”
“Copias bonum…”
“…make way for the unrepentant, and pack on the fat.”
“Damn it,” I muttered rushing in front of Jocelyn, blocking with my arms outstretched, confronting my family in a way I had never done. There was no remorse, not from me, not as the screams around me grated my ears. They were all in a defensive mode now, but would soon shift to offense, and Jocelyn would be their intended target.
Watching the speed at which their lips moved and the lust for retaliation in their eyes, I knew I didn’t have much time.
“Jocelyn,” I called over my shoulder. “Back up. Slowly.”
Her hand came around my waist, and I felt some measure of relief to know she was there, and functioning. And then we began the gradual, tense trek toward the door.
In our agonizingly slow pace backwards, I kept my focus on the rest of them, cataloguing the effect of every cast. Jocelyn’s aunt and uncle, Lester and Lizzy, had their eyelids seared shut, blinding them into powerlessness. Isabella was bleeding from both ears, intermittently shaking her head as if that might clear whatever cast had settled over her. Regardless, she remained undeterred, her lips moving faster than anyone’s in the room. Vinnia was a strong force, too. Despite the icy cast set on her, and the shimmer of frost on her skin, she actually leaned toward my family, into the fight, teeth chattering as she sent casts back. Estelle, who had always come across as flighty and impulsive to me, showed none of it now. The drill of her stare at my family was amazingly rigid, even as the boils bubbled up beneath her skin. Oscar, Spencer, and Nolan were each debilitated in their own way, at least one extremity swelling until it looked like it might pop. This had to be painful, but they didn’t seem to notice.
My family didn’t fare any better. An odd, purplish growth crept up Charlotte and Alison’s arms. Burke frantically attempted to wipe something off his skin in between casting, and I knew that someone on the Weatherford side was channeling his worst nightmare, a spider infestation. Dillon kept collapsing to the ground, his limbs sporadically giving way to a cast that seized his ability to control them. My parents became stricken with some sort of stomach ailment, both of them doubling over in pain, their necks stretching upward so that they could continue to cast.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Here were people I knew from birth and I didn’t recognize them at all. Their heads shook with each word. Spit flew from their mouths. They shouted words like “rot” and “despair” and “disease.”
I thought they had lost their minds, until I remembered what all this was about…To protect me from Jocelyn. Here I am trying to keep her from danger against The Sevens, and it’s my family trying to hurt her!
They didn’t understand. They hadn’t realized that she has NO CHOICE! They don’t know the pressure she is feeling to know that she has to kill me. They’re blaming her and it’s not even her fault. She has to kill me. Or else everything we’ve done – everything we’ve become – will all be for nothing. The Sevens will win and the world will be a wasteland, a human playground for them. She doesn’t want that, and she doesn’t want to kill someone she loves. But if she doesn’t millions of people will die. There is no other alternative for her. They should be SYMPATHIZING with her.
I was sick and found myself shaking from an uncontrolled surge of emotions. I couldn’t imagine what Jocelyn was going through…. I wanted to open my mouth and shout “STOP!” but that would draw the attention to me, and to Jocelyn who was behind me.
No, I decided, get her out of here first.
The only two in the room who appeared unaffected by this bizarre fight were Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia. As I passed by them, I saw their expressions, and they were, of all things, pleased.
It wasn’t until Dillon produced a fireball – the same kind Sartorius had used to burn down half the village not so long ago – that everyon
e came to their senses. I saw it first, his intent gaze directed on the lantern illuminating the room. When the flame grew, and the room brightened, I shouted to him, my hands coming up in warning.
“Dillon, no! No!”
The rage in my voice stopped everyone in the room, as if a switch had been turned off. Their voices settled, hesitant and slow, as reason returned to them.
Jocelyn and I were at the doorway by then, just as they began to blink, to clear away the disturbing feeling of launching unwarranted attacks on people who minutes ago they considered their friends.
The room became silent, still, each observing the opposite side with distrust. They only seemed to be shaken from their stupor when Jocelyn made a declaration. It was unyielding and calm, and seemed delayed after all that had just taken place.
“I won’t do it. I can’t. I will die at the hands of The Sevens before I end Jameson’s life.”
And that statement brought on a wave of consideration that had been thrown to the side in favor of violence. I could see the understanding creep across their faces, the disturbed realization that they weren’t the ones who had the most to lose.
Jocelyn is in a much more challenging position over her future than the rest of them. She has to face the horror that it must be her hand to take the life of someone she loves because if she doesn’t tens of thousands, possibly millions, of people will die. And she has to do it alone.
Still, resentment was still alive in Estelle. Her glare said it all. But she did the right thing, as hard as it was for her. “Incantatio dimittam,” she muttered.
Instantly, Charlotte’s mouth began to dry. She was still bent in the corner, almost cowering in embarrassment in a way I’d never seen her act before, allowing her drool to spill freely now. She had given up trying to contain it. Despite the drying of her mouth, the front of her shirt remained drenched, a good reminder of just how potent the Weatherford casts can be.
Estelle began it but the rest followed suit, rescinding their casts one by one until all cuts, bruises, sores, and incapacities were removed. They then stood staring awkward, and still skeptical, at each other.
Prophecy (Residue Series #4) Page 7