I swung around to face her and saw the tilt of her head toward a man in a business suit holding a briefcase up in a way that made me think he was trying to block something. His jaw was slack, too, so I was fairly certain he’d just seen too much of what had just happened.
There was really no way around it now. He saw what he saw. It was good for him that no Vires were left with fully functioning capacities or he’d be gone by now, abducted to the Ministry where he’d be murdered to prevent knowledge of our world from being exposed. That, I’m fairly certain, happens more often than most people think.
He was still standing there as I walked by him on my way to Jocelyn, looking like he was trying to appraise the situation and wrap his mind around how a single guy could take out ten men without injury.
I slipped my hand into Jocelyn’s, and informed him, “You’ll want to leave now. More of them will be coming.”
He nodded silently, jaw still dropped, but at least his feet started to move.
Jocelyn and I waited until his back was turned before she lifted us into the air, which made me grin. If he were to look back, he’d really have something to gawk about.
We drifted over New Orleans, where a dense fog blanketed the city, giving everything in sight a grey tint and a shiny coating. The delivery trucks were just now rolling into the French Quarter, newspaper stands were opening their metal doors, and hazy lights lit up cafes and coffee shops ready for the morning rush.
“Beignets sound good, don’t they?” she asked, wistfully.
“I’m sorry, Jocelyn, we can’t risk it,” I said, my heart breaking at having to tell her no.
She nodded, knowing it would be reckless. In fact, it would be suicidal.
But they did sound good. Damn good.
As a substitute, I thought something else might satisfy her need for normalcy.
“Head toward the Garden District,” I said, and she gave me a curious stare until I told her which street. Then she understood.
We stopped first at her house. It was still standing, so Miss Mabelle was doing a valiant job of keeping that up. Their cars packed the driveways, like the Weatherfords would walk out the front door at any point in time with their key in hand. The yards were groomed, no mail collected on the porch. In general, it looked like nothing had changed.
I glanced up to study her reaction and found her smiling. Unable to stop myself, I reached out and touched her cheek, with my thumb settling at the edge of her lips. She had a seductive way about her, even when she was so innocently baring her soul.
“Someday, I’m going to pick you up from that house,” I said, pointing down at it, “and take you out on a real date.”
Her smile widened. “You better.”
“Oh, I will.”
When we stopped at my house, it looked the same…still standing, cars jammed into the narrow driveway. Alison had pulled in behind everyone else, blocking the exit, even though Burke would harangue her for it, like he’d done so many times before. And then it was my turn to smile, because I realized that it’s the little things that make a moment poignant.
We left, carrying with us a sentimental longing for what we had been forced to leave behind. I could guarantee we were both thinking about classes, and homework, fights over whose turn it is to use the bathroom. What had seemed like hassles before were now welcome signs of everyday life.
The village only perpetuated that feeling of despondency over a life left behind and the mass exodus cast a lasting impression that could be felt through the silence. The shacks stood uninhabited, ropes for tying the boats hung dejected off the docks, some having slid from their loops and left submerged in the murky water. The fog had settled here too, and it hovered undisturbed, unaltered by movement.
When we landed at the first shack we came to, neither of us broke the silence for the first few minutes. And then I stepped up and took Jocelyn’s hand, just as she remarked, “I used to feel at home here.” Her voice was hollow in the vastness of the bayou.
“I was thinking that, too.”
The life of the village was gone now, carried away with the last of the dissidents. The truth was it felt like a graveyard, empty, holding nothing more than the imprint of those who had lived there.
I shifted my feet, listening for the creak of the dock as it echoed across the water. “Before the mass exodus, before the village was built out, when it was just ‘the village’, a Vire prison, I came here on my own to listen to the families. And there was always something, something to tell me that regardless of all that The Sevens took from them, they still lived. Whether it was in the music they played or in their teasing or in a heated debate, there was always life here. The Sevens tried to make this place miserable, but it overcame.”
“The prisoners are free now,” Jocelyn said, trying to comfort me.
“They will be. Soon.”
“And permanently.” That voice came out of nowhere and I wasn’t prepared for the location of it, which was right behind us.
By the speed of my turn, Eran picked up on it. “Weren’t expecting us so soon, were you?”
“I was expecting to hear you approach. Where’s your boat?” I asked, because it was noticeably absent.
He brushed off my question and then walked to the edge of the dock. “We have other transportation options. So, this is the village?”
“It’s…” Maggie paused, determining an appropriate description. “Quiet.”
“It should be,” Jocelyn said.
“No one lives here, not anymore,” I added. “Nonetheless, we should get out of sight.”
“Agreed,” Eran said, approaching the shack next to us.
“Not that one,” I informed him, just as Jocelyn made a motion to intervene.
Apparently, we had come to the same conclusion. They may be vacant, but they were still a home to some.
“This way,” Jocelyn instructed, already walking the plank which lay between the docks.
Seeing their eyebrows raised in confusion, I offered an explanation. “My parents’ shack is the undesignated location for all meetings. It’s not far.”
“Your parents lived here, too?” Eran asked, surprised.
“A lot of people lived here.”
He nodded, and then he and Maggie paid close attention to the shacks we passed as we made our way across the village.
“What’s with the purple curtains?” Maggie asked after we stopped.
Jocelyn snickered and explained, “My cousin has a flare for fashion.”
Maggie nodded thoughtfully for a few seconds before saying, “You guys really made this a home, didn’t you?”
I was about to respond, but then I opened the door and the bodies inside made me freeze in place.
When Eran saw me step into a fighting stance, he reacted swiftly, stepping through the door and into the one-room dwelling, vigilant about what he might find. But then I held out my arm and blocked his chest, and he knew to relax.
We faced a roomful of silhouettes in the hazy light streaming through the purple curtains Maggie had just mentioned. It was of some relief that I recognized them but I remained on alert, because the last time we were all in the same room together none of us left truly unscathed.
Isabella came forward first, just as Jocelyn passed by me. She caught her daughter by the shoulders and held her back for inspection, and from that I knew she’d heard what had happened.
“So you know?” I asked and Isabella nodded, focusing entirely on her daughter.
“Know?” Burke chuckled. “Little brother, our whole world knows.” He said this as he came forward, leading the rest of our families.
They gave us quiet congratulations, patting Jocelyn and me on the back and grinning. Only then was my tension minimized about both families being here. So long as they weren’t focused on each other, I judged us to be in good shape. In fact, the only contention felt was between me and Charlotte, who wisely kept her distance.
Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia held off their
congratulations, taking a seat on stools closer to the door, making me think they believed this wasn’t even half over. And they were correct. We had six more of the seven to go.
“If anyone hasn’t learned of it,” Isabella stated, releasing Jocelyn’s arms so that she could fold her own across her chest, “they will soon enough.”
She then tipped her head at Maggie and Eran. “Who are they?”
I introduced them, although everyone but the adults already knew them from school. The fact we knew them made our parents curious, but they didn’t get the chance to inquire further.
Spencer, who was a bit darker than the rest of the Weatherford siblings, seemed more interested in Sisera’s demise and didn’t give them the chance. “They say, if it hadn’t been for his robe, and the number of moldavite stones embedded in it, Sisera would have been unrecognizable. I have to ask…exactly what did you do to him?”
“Dropped him,” replied Jocelyn, bluntly. “Although, he was decomposing by the time we did.”
“Already?” he asked, his forehead creasing with skepticism. “He hasn’t even been dead for what five? Seven hours?”
“Jocelyn told you…The Sevens aren’t like us.”
“Is that being disputed?” Eran asked, quietly alarmed.
“It’s a little hard for them to swallow,” I explained.
He didn’t respond with anything more than a deliberate nod, which made it look like he was concerned for their wellbeing if they didn’t get onboard with the concept quickly.
I then recounted how Sisera’s life was ended. They listened intently, occasionally glancing at Eran and Maggie, their interest in them morphing into respect and revelation. The parents in the room appeared upset, but it was directed at Jocelyn and me for returning to the Ministry at all.
I reasoned with their silent opposition by summing up our plan. “We needed to leave Sisera’s body in a location that would allow us to send two messages – to The Sevens and to everyone else. We needed to tell them that The Sevens are not invincible, that they have reason to fear for their lives, and that we aren’t waiting for them to come to us…we’re going after them.” Without waiting for their reaction, and to avoid anyone interested in opposing the idea, I continued without breaking my pace. “And, again, you can thank Eran and Maggie for it because I get the impression,” I added with a quick glance in their direction, “that they know how to take care of the rest.”
Several eyebrows rose at this assumption.
“We do,” Eran confirmed and then grinned proudly at Maggie. “Love, would you like to take this one?”
“Absolutely.” She took a second to stare into his eyes and then came back to us, launching into her assertions without any easing whatsoever. “There were others like The Sevens.”
An almost unified inhale resonated throughout the room, which seemed to surprise her. To alleviate their tension, she went on to explain, “They got the same treatment as Sisera. We thought they were gone, eradicated, but when I sensed Sartorius in Jackson Square a few months ago we knew that wasn’t exactly the case. Seven of them, your Sevens, have been in hiding in your world. But from the looks of their headquarters, the place you all call the Ministry, they’re about ready to make their entrance. So we need to get to them before they can hurt anyone else. The challenge we’re facing is-”
Nolan, a Weatherford known for a deficit of manners, broke in to finish her sentence. “That they can shift abilities between each of them whenever they want so they become indestructible as a whole.”
He seemed overconfident about his interjection, yawning as if Maggie was wasting his time, at least until she responded, bluntly.
“That is a farce. They’ve made you all believe it for the same reason they’ve created their army of Vires, and hung innocent people in their Ministry courtyard, and established rules for you all to follow. Fear. It’s a strong device when you’re trying to control something naturally unruly, which would be humankind. So they have convinced you that they are more powerful than you. They aren’t. They simply have unique defenses.”
“So you are saying that they can’t shift abilities between each of them, taking whichever one suits them best at the time?” my mother inquired, not skeptically but thoughtfully.
“No, they cannot,” Eran stated.
“And how do you know this?”
“Because we hunt them,” Maggie said, divulging their situation in a way that sent a shockwave through the audience.
“What?” Nolan countered in blatant disbelief. “You’re just a girl at school who talks to the dead. And you’re just her boyfriend who follows her around.”
While Jocelyn seemed offended by this, it appeared she was the only one. Maggie and Eran showed no reaction aside from Eran flatly pointing out, “We’re also the ones who killed Sisera.”
That shut Nolan up.
“And that’s the reason why we know how to kill the rest, permanently,” Eran added.
“But first,” Maggie continued, “as I was saying before…the challenge we face is that they don’t all die the same. They each have their own special defenses. It is these defenses that made them look impervious, that they manipulated to look like they come from your world.”
My mind drifted back to the few minutes before Jocelyn was abducted and taken to the Ministry, when I had slit Peregrine’s throat. “Peregrine’s skin regenerates.”
“Good to know,” Eran said with an appreciative nod.
“And Sartorius can manipulate fire,” Maggie asserted. “Which tells me that he can’t be burned.”
Jocelyn’s jaw dropped open on hearing Maggie’s statement.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied, and addressed Maggie. “That’s…that’s how he burned you every time you defied him in the prison?”
“Sartorius burned you?” Eran interjected, his expression darkening instantly from contained rage.
Maggie brushed it off as if it were nothing important. “Jocelyn healed me,” she replied offhandedly. “And it was worth it to see Sartorius’ frustration.”
Still, Eran’s hands balled into fists, looking torn between wrapping his arms around Maggie or heading out the door to exact his revenge. She sensed this and refused to allow either one to happen by changing the subject.
“We’ve been researching them, identifying their vulnerabilities through their behavior. But there’s something that’s been eluding us. We can’t figure out a way of determining where The Sevens will be at any specific point in time.”
“What about Sisera?” asked Vinnia, whose natural insight into the behavior of others made her the most likely candidate to help them solve the problem.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like it would be that easy, after Maggie explained.
“Sisera was pure luck. As it turns out, the DeVilles left themselves wide open. The Sevens knew they weren’t hiding. All the Vires had to do was watch them for any behavior out of the ordinary, and they’d know it was time to move in.”
“What was it they did that was out of the ordinary?” asked Vinnia.
“Well, call me crazy, but throwing out one of those stones you all wear doesn’t seem to be a good idea. At least not when it’s a moldavite stone, the kind your Vires wear.”
I lifted my hand to my collar, found the stone missing, and groaned. Jocelyn observed me doing this, so I leaned down and whispered, “She must have removed it while we slept.”
“So therein lies the problem,” Eran said, getting us back on subject. “We can’t kill them if we don’t know where to find them.”
It was obvious he was appealing for suggestions, but with heads turned and eyes downcast it didn’t look like anyone had anything to offer. And then Isabella spoke up.
“I have one ally inside the Ministry walls,” she stated quietly, hesitantly. “He has a lot to lose, we all do, if his identity is exposed, because he’s gotten closer to The Sevens than anyone ever has before.”
“How cl
ose?” I asked.
“He’s Sartorius’ confidante.”
I grew excited over Isabella’s declaration. “Will he help us?”
“If we ask him, he will.”
“I don’t think we have any other option,” Eran surmised.
Isabella agreed with a nod. “I’ll reach out to him,” she said, already starting for the door.
Before she got there, it occurred to me to ask, “Isabella, what’s his name?”
She stopped and slowly turned around, an indication that she knew his identity would stir something in us. “Stalwart.”
And she was correct. Jocelyn, Eran, and Maggie launched into loud opposition of the idea.
Jocelyn was the last to speak, by insisting, “He can’t be trusted.”
Isabella held back a smirk and it became clear to me that she knew all along how we escaped the Ministry and Lacinda’s house. She had gotten the inside story on it.
“Stalwart didn’t turn on you,” Isabella stated with unwavering certainty. “He convinced Lacinda he wasn’t a threat by siding with her so he could return to the Ministry.”
Jocelyn countered, “But he didn’t defect. If he was truly on our side, he would have.”
“He did, he just never left.” I said, and Jocelyn turned to me, stunned.
Sensing support, Isabella appealed directly to me then. “Wouldn’t you, Jameson, in all your strategic forethought ever consider leaving someone on the inside to relay information back to us?” She paused, waiting for my answer.
“Yes, I would.”
Jocelyn’s expression sank further while the glimmer of a proud smile lifted Isabella’s. It crushed me to see that.
“Correct,” Isabella declared. She then confirmed what I already knew, what had come to me in the DeVille’s storefront while trying to keep Sisera from killing Jocelyn. “You, Jameson, would have asked him to position himself around Sartorius to ensure he was chosen when the time came for Sartorius to implement his plan. When he did, Stalwart safely escorted you from the Ministry, ensured that Jocelyn was freed, and did it all without giving up his cover.”
Prophecy (Residue Series #4) Page 11