“Maybe she’s busy. Or sleeping,” I suggest.
Gabriel shakes his head. “I wish it were that simple.”
“But — You need to try again.”
“He’s been trying,” Micah says. “Mina has left us, Manny. She’s gone.”
“You mean she’s…dead?”
Micah nods. “I’m so sorry.”
The news hits me like a blow to the stomach, and my vision grows cloudy with oncoming tears. “Oh, God. But how? When?”
“Sometime in the last twenty-four hours,” Gabriel replies.
James turns on Micah. “Did you know about this incident, too?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Did you know this would happen to her?” he growls.
Micah’s continued silence gives James his answer.
James phasms toward him without warning, but Micah steps aside, dodging the attack with an unprecedented speed and agility.
“How long have you known of her fate?” James persists.
Micah’s tone is calm and steady: “Son, restrain yourself.”
“I’m not your son!” James’ eyes turn black, and he grims, striking again. The two lock arms and begin grappling at the edge of the water — James in his predatory form and Micah in his human appearance.
James howls like a wounded animal. “This is all your fault. You could have prevented this, like you could have prevented what happened to Isidore.” He tosses Micah back with a powerful thrust, knocking him into me.
I help Micah to his feet and discover he, too, has made a beastly transformation. Gone are his playful smile and gentle eyes, replaced by a black stare and thick, gargoyle-like fangs. “I did try to keep her safe,” Micah hisses, “but Mina didn’t listen.”
“Then you didn’t try hard enough.”
Micah flicks a piece of James’ sweater from his claws, a chunk of sleeve ripped off in their struggle. James’ exposed skin is covered in tiny black scars — fingernail marks, from the looks of it. How long has he had them?
Lucy steps forward. “James, stop. Please.”
“Let him fight, Lucille,” Micah protests. “Let him exercise his grief.”
“It isn’t grief. It’s rage,” James declares. “You never should have sired my brother. You never should have broken us apart.”
“Is that what this is really about? Three hundred years later, and I’m still to blame for your inadequacy as a Disciple?” Micah remarks.
“I wasn’t inadequate. I was inexperienced. But you, you knew exactly what you were doing, which is why you tricked my brother into trusting you, into becoming your Saved.”
Micah scoffs. “I did no such thing.”
“You got into Jacob’s head, filled his hungry mind with promises of recognition and greatness, all to serve your own selfish agenda.” James turns to me, wild-eyed. “That’s how Disciples grow their power, Manny, by expanding their sireline. Micah’s never cared about the Afterliving or Stockton Farms, only himself, which is why he groomed your father to be his Devangelist pet, why you and your mum were driven away, and why you’ve never had the life you deserved. It’s all because of Micah.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Then again, this is Micah we’re talking about. He’s more than capable of plotting a scheme as elaborate as what James has described — especially with a talent like Prophecy.
“Is all of that true?” I ask.
“None of it is remotely true. James is weaving a conspiracy to pit you against me. No doubt to sire you for himself.”
“Drop the act, Micah. You know that if it weren’t for you and your toxic manipulations, my brother would still be alive and none of this would have ever happened.”
“I never pushed Isidore into anything he didn’t already want for himself. Your brother knew he was destined for greatness, to be the best Disciple the Afterliving has ever seen, and he also knew it never would have happened if you had saved him.”
“Liar.”
“You were a burden on his shoulders, James. The noose around his neck.” Micah turns to me. “James will be the same hindrance to you if you choose him as your Sire.”
“Manny, don’t listen to him. He’s trying to poison your mind like he did to Jacob.”
“I would never do such a thing.”
“Stop. Both of you,” I exclaim. “My mother is dead, and you don’t even care. You’re arguing about some stupid Baptism, a Baptism that’s never going to happen.”
Micah phasms to my side, now more sincere. “Don’t be irrational. Of course we care. Disciples are the Afterliving. Your Baptism is what will honor your mum’s memory. And her sacrifices.”
“How dare you speak for her,” James barks. He lunges at Micah again, but even with his back turned, Micah’s one step ahead. He catches James by the shoulders and uses the momentum to hurl him toward the rocky shore.
James charges a second time, but Micah slams him against the dock with a clawed hand. “You’re still half the Disciple your brother was, James, and you always will be. Mina was right to choose him over you, lest Emmanuel had been born of your weak blood.”
“Enough.” Lucy swoops in and pushes Micah away, planting herself between them.
“Don’t interfere, Lucille,” Micah hisses.
“Get out of the way, Lucy,” James cautions, rising to his feet.
“No.”
James and Micah crouch down, ready to attack.
Lucy stands firm. “If you two do not back down this instant, I’m warning you…”
What is she thinking? “Lucy, get out of their way.”
She reaches into her pockets. “No, Manny. I won’t let them destroy each other.”
“You’re three centuries too late,” James spits.
They phasm toward Lucy simultaneously. She throws out her arms, and the three collide in a burst of green powder. Micah and James stumble backwards, rubbing their eyes and gasping for air. Then they both jump into the water.
As the cloud of dust settles, I run to the middle of the dock, where Lucy lies tucked in fetal position. She lifts her head, disoriented, and coughs. I help her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she moans.
“What were you thinking?”
“It’s okay.” Lucy shows me her green stained palms. “I had Silver Salt.” She reaches over the edge of the dock and rinses her hands clean.
Silver Salt. I remember James saying that’s what my Dexolfor tablets were made of: “Silver Salt, a mild sedative to our kind…”
James and Micah resurface in human form. Gabriel offers to help them out of the water, but James refuses his hand and swims to shore.
“Where are you going?” Lucy calls out.
“Leave him,” Micah sputters. “He’s always reveled in playing the victim.”
James glances back in my direction, and his hazel eyes pierce my heart. The frustration, the anger, the hopelessness, I feel it all — just before he disappears into the shadows.
“Did you really warn my mother about her death?”
Micah removes his soaking jacket. “You have my word.”
“Then why is she dead?”
“It won’t help us to dwell on the past, my boy.”
“No. If you warned her, why is she gone? And how did it happen?”
“Manny, I’m sure Micah did all in his power to — ”
“Stay out of this, Lucy. If my mother knew her life was in danger, why wouldn’t she listen to you? Why couldn’t she stop the prophecy? And don’t feed me another one of your half-assed answers.”
“Very well.” Micah runs his fingers through his hair, wringing out the extra water. “The only way your mum could have avoided her destruction was if she stayed with you. You were her protection.”
“Protection from what?”
&n
bsp; “From herself. She hasn’t always been the well-mannered Disciple you’ve grown to know. When Minerva resurrected as Wilhelmina, there were complications. She was temperamental — unpredictable — which, in her defense, is to be expected of newly sired humans.”
Wilhelmina? That’s where “Mina” came from, my mother’s Patron name. It had nothing to do with my father’s “horrible Spanish accent.”
“After a successful period of being Saved,” Micah continues, “Isidore assumed your mum had outgrown her adolescent behavior, and he continued siring, releasing her from her Sire Bond. To all of our astonishment, Mina began an unmerciful struggle with Bloodlust, and as much as your father tried, he could not decipher the cause of her hunger. All Isidore discovered was her destructive demeanor was stifled in your presence. Motherhood proved the only force strong enough to curb her addiction. This is why Mina’s always kept you close and why your father didn’t deny her wishes to take you away when they separated.
“I knew her luck was to change the night of your arrival, when I had a vision. It was brief but distinct: Mina was alone and bathed in blood. Hers or the Living’s, I couldn’t tell, but I knew it signified she would surrender to her sickness. I told your mum immediately, and she assured me under no circumstances was she going to allow the two of you to be separated, lest my dream should come to pass. However, because you’re here and Mina isn’t, it can only mean one thing: The prophecy is fulfilled.”
This explains my mother’s solemn behavior at breakfast our first morning in Devil’s Dyke, and why she was so erratic when I came home late from my father’s funeral. She’d been anticipating our separation.
“But you said she called you from New York, and that she was okay.”
“Physically, she was. Although spiritually, she was lost.”
“But…lost isn’t dead,” I respond. “You’re telling me my mother is still alive.”
“Whether her heart still beats is inconsequential. Mina has isolated herself from you and her sireline” — he indicates Gabriel. “She has left the Afterliving and chosen to succumb to her sinful disposition. The mum you knew is dead. She has been murdered in her transgressions.”
I clench my fists to keep the instinct at bay. “The mum I knew didn’t choose anything. I’m the reason we separated. She told me we were supposed to stick together, but I didn’t listen. I impelled her to stay on the plane because I wanted her home. I wanted her safe.”
Micah sighs. “You didn’t know.”
“But I could have known. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t your prophecy.”
“So? My father’s death wasn’t James’ or Edith’s prophecy, but you still told them. Was my mother’s life not as valuable to you?”
“Of course it was, but telling you about the prophecy would have meant exposing your mum’s weakness for Living blood, which is why Mina begged me to keep it a secret. Would you rather I had dishonored her wishes?”
“Yes, Micah. If it meant keeping my mother safe, yes.” I start to walk away.
Lucy tries detaining me, but I tap into instinct and phasm toward the pasture, running until I’m halfway between Weston Manor and Stockton Estate. I stop just short of the wooded area where I encountered Michelle, Anthony’s runaway girl. The sprint leaves me exhausted and out of breath, but not as much as the last time I phasmed. I’m getting better at it — stronger.
I enter the wood, looking for a place to rest, and I find James sitting in a bed of leaves with his back against a trunk. His head is raised to the canopy of branches overhead, and tears trickle down the sides of his cheeks.
“My mother isn’t dead,” I tell him.
“What?”
“She isn’t dead,” I repeat. “She’s sick.” I relay the story of Mom’s Bloodlust addiction, including the vagueness of Micah’s prophecy. James is thankful for the news, but he’s far from relieved. “What’s wrong? I told you she’s still alive. I thought you’d be happy.”
“If what you’re telling me is true, then Mina is no longer a Disciple. She’s left the Afterliving and crossed into the Fallen. She’s a vampire now.”
Ihaven’t been able to sleep all night, not after what James said: “She’s a vampire, now.” Then again, that’s a relative term.
Where is she? How is she? I don’t care about Micah’s rationality. Vampire or Disciple, Minerva Rios-Stockton is still my mother — even if she has been lying to me for a good ninety-nine percent of my life.
My life. That’s a laugh… What life? The mediocre job in a mediocre city with mediocre friends and mediocre expectations? On second thought, I take back the part about mediocre friends. I’m pretty sure Andrew’s a closeted Daemon. It’s gonna blow his mind when I tell him.
The air is thick with the smell of morning dew. I walk toward the edge of the wood, hoping to steal a glimpse of the stars before they’re erased by the dawn. That’s where I find James. His eyes point toward the northwest corner of the sky, where the constellation of Gemini dwindles in the rising sun.
I stand next to him. “Twin brothers, Castor and Pollux. Same mom, different dads. Castor and his father were mortal, but Pollux’s father was Zeus, so he was immortal.”
James nods in approval. “Go on.”
“When Castor died, Pollux was devastated and begged Zeus for help. So Zeus made Castor immortal, too. Now they live forever in the sky as Gemini.”
“Did your father teach you that?”
“Yes.”
James smiles. “He and I used to spend hours stargazing on the roof of Grandfather Thomas’ shop, tracing the movement of the constellations, wondering if the stories of gods and goddesses were real — when we were mortal, that is.” His expression hardens. “Things changed after Jacob was Saved. Isidore didn’t think astronomy was an appropriate hobby for a Devangelist — Micah’s influence, no doubt.”
I come to learn James was baptized first, in London, 1667, several months before my father was sired. By this point, “Jacob” had been missing for more than a year since the great fire claimed their mom and destroyed the Carpenter name. When James resurrected, the fraternal link he and my father shared as twins was heightened by his Discipleship, and it drew him and his Sire to Devil’s Dyke, reuniting brother with brother.
“You still haven’t told me who your Sire is,” I remind him.
“I know. And I can’t, not without their permission.”
James goes on to tell me how, before he arrived at Stockton Farm, Micah had already begun the process of educating Jacob about the Afterliving, intending to be my father’s Sire. But Jacob was resistant. Something was holding him back — and that something was James. As good of a companion as Micah had been, Jacob missed his brother, and he regretted leaving James behind.
“Our reunion was a turning point in Jacob’s salvation. Knowing I, too, was Saved encouraged him to make his decision to enter an everlasting service to the Afterliving. The only problem was my brother wanted me to do the siring.”
“How was that a problem?”
“I wasn’t yet allowed,” James says. “I was too recently Saved and too inexperienced. Jacob and I would have to wait for my Confirmation for me to properly baptize him, which we agreed to do. That is, until Micah stepped in.”
Delaying or interfering with a Disciple’s Baptism is one of the Seven Offenses. It’s called Intercession. James and my father weren’t in violation as long as my father didn’t mind waiting to be sired, but according to James, Micah’s interference changed that. He began chipping away at my father’s patience and preying upon his ambition, telling him each hour spent as a human was another hour of wasted potential. Micah’s intervention was relentless, and he knew the more he pressured my father, the harder it was for James to concentrate on his own Discipleship. He was intentionally driving them mad, and in due time, my father decided he no longer wanted to wait for J
ames’ Confirmation. Jacob demanded to be baptized as soon as possible, which is how Micah came to be his Sire.
“He had no right to sire your father, Manny, no right. But Micah knew my brother would be as determined of a Devangelist as he was a carpenter, and that every human Jacob sired would strengthen his sireline, giving Micah more power, as well. Micah was driven by greed, and his selfish motives are the reason Jacob resurrected the way he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“After Baptism, Jacob was never the same. He was ‘Isidore’ now, and Isidore was hungry. Always hungry.”
“For blood?”
“For power. This new Disciple was unrecognizable, a complete stranger to me,” he says with sadness in his eyes.
“And you blame Micah?”
“Of course I blame Micah. The Saved always inherit the characteristics of their Sires. In Isidore’s case, he inherited Micah’s greed, a disaster when coupled with my brother’s obsessive sense of ambition.”
James’ concern seems valid. After all, Mom did say Isidore’s devotion to work was what drove her away. “If my dad’s been that intolerable since he resurrected, how did my mother fall in love with him in the first place?”
“She didn’t fall in love with him, Manny. Your mum fell in love with me.”
“With you?”
“Mina was my Alma. My soul mate. It’s what I was trying to tell you last night…”
Almagimation is another of the Afterliving’s Seven Sacraments. It means “divine love,” and according to James, it’s an essential part of Discipleship. It’s meant to be the closest anyone may come to experiencing God’s love on earth.
The bond of Almagimation can only be formed between a human and a Disciple, the Living and the Afterliving, representative of the love Christ felt for his Apostles. By transcending the finite to the infinite, Almagimation teaches Disciples how to love the Living with the purity of Christ — which is what my mother did to James. For more than three hundred years, she taught him how to love.
“Almagimation is similar to Prophecy. It occurs in pieces,” he tells me, “like fragments of a dream.”
The Afterliving (His Blood & Silver Series Book 1) Page 21