Birthright (Residue Series #2) (39 page)

As he held his ground, Turcott’s hand rose and brought the Vires to a halt before they could seize our arms or perform a cast prevent
ing
us from assaulting him.

“One motion from me and your families die.”

“Consider for a second how that will look to the rest of our world,” seethed Jameson, so close to Turcott their chests were nearly touching.

“Reflect on the fact that your families will already be dead
,
before our world discovers it.”

Jameson’s shoulders, which had tensed during the altercation, fell slightly
,
and he stepped back, stretching out his arm against me to insist I do the same.

“Good,” Turcott said
. He sounded
like a trainer rewarding a dog that just obeyed.
It made my
face contort into
defiant stare and Jameson’s shoulders rise again. “Now, if you’ll accompany me…”

Turcott spun on his heel and strolled out of Pirates Alley
,
away from Jackson Square. Theleo and the remaining Vires followed us, keeping to a loose huddle around us. I noted that while tourists and street performers were everywhere
,
no
o
ne could have helped us
,
even if we had called out. Our families would have been dead before we could escape the Vires.

Every passerby on the street was innocent
, paying us little or no attention at all. They were
oblivious
and couldn’t know
we were head
ing
into a private room
to be
encircled
by
our enemies
.
The word ‘hopeless’ took on an entirely new meaning
.
I began to actually appreciate the air in my lungs, the harsh sounds of the city
, and
the feel of the broken pavement be
neath
my feet.
Because this
may be the last time I experience
any of
them.

Whoever was interested in meeting Jameson and I had expensive taste. The hotel we entered was one of the most luxurious in the city. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and soft jazz playing in the background greeted us. I felt like an animal being led to its slaughter across velvet carpet.

At the elevator, Turcott’s palm came out and stopped Theleo from entering.

“Your assignments,” he said
,
sarcastically
,
using Theleo’s term for us, “will be secure with their host.”

As the door closed, Theleo’s face was firmly set in confusion
,
trying to
process
what Turcott meant.
Just
as the door closed,
however,
his expression
changed. His eyes
grew
wide,
and his jaw squeezed shut. What disturbed me wasn’t the fact we were headed to a private
room and going to be
surrounded by our enemies
, it
was Theleo’s
reaction.
Because after he
finally
understood Turcott’s comment
,
he looked like very alarmed.

This settled uneasily in me as we took the elevator to the top floor. Jameson
stood
so close our shoulders nearly touched, which was comforting given our
present
situation.

Turcott led us through a separate door
off the elevator
and into a cavernous room opulently decorated with rich colors and antique furniture.

A man stood on the balcony
overlooking the city where modern
skyscrapers rose above the older
and
more traditional buildings graced with wrought-iron balconies
were seen
in the foreground. I noted the irony, instantly. The man
wore
an elegant, custom-tailored business suit – the epitome of today’s wealthiest and most contemporary men – in the midst of a traditionally-appointed, historical building.

He turned slowly until
he was
directly facing us and I
discovered
we were staring back at the very same man who upset Maggie. Beneath well-groomed, black hair and emotionless
,
brown eyes, his skin appeared frail, almost translucent, as if it had thinned over the centuries. But it was his hands, crossed over the top of a cane, the kind used for fashion and not for mobility, which drew my attention. On one finger, embedded in an extravagant diamond ring, sat the largest
moldavite
stone I
have
ever seen.

“Bow,” stated Turcott. When both Jameson and I refused to move, he stepped forward. “Bow or the other one will needlessly suffer.”

That threat
was enough to get Jameson and I
to bend slightly at the waist, though we kept our eyes locked on the man in front of us.

In deep, rough brogue, his voice carried over us. “Do you know me by name?”

Jameson responded, keeping his own voice reserved but steady. “Yes.”

“Do you know me by rank?”

I remained silent as Jameson answered. “Yes.”

“Tell me,” the man demanded, “Jameson Bartlett Caldwell, who am I?”

Jameson’s jaw
twitched
before answering. “Your name is Sartorius and you are one of The Sevens.”

Standing before me was one of the men who attempted to take my life and Jameson’s life when we
were
newborns. He was one of the men responsible for my father’s
death. He was my grandfather, a
nd he’d come here to kill me and the man I loved.

As these realizations bombarded me, Jameson continued recounting Sartorius’s reputation.

“You were the first to suggest gladiator tournaments in Rome. You caused the volcanic eruptions, including Krakatoa, in 535 AD
,
which brought on mass famine in the western hemisphere for several years. You trained the Templars making them one of the most effective fighting units during the Crusades-”

“That is sufficient,” Sartorius declared
,
and Jameson’s mouth slowly closed and his eyelids dropped to a glare.

“Don’t believe everything you read,” Sartorius scoffed, making the assumption that was where Jameson had learned everything he
listed. “I trained the Templar Knights for as long as it took to make them lethal and to set them in the direction where it would cause the most harm.” He said this apathetically with a hand gesture
, brushing
aside any possibility
that
he’d done it with any moral intent.

A soft breeze fluttered the
sheer
curtains behind him
,
making Sartorius appear almost unreal
,
but I refused to let this disturb my resolve.

Even though he didn’t move for several minutes, taking time to evaluate me, I met his eyes and refused to look away. Whether he liked what he saw in his bloodline made no difference to me.

“Your father had the same defiance,” he stated
,
flatly, breaking the silence but remaining motionless. It didn’t seem
to matter
one way or another to him
.
“His brothers and sisters – of which have been many throughout the centuries – were given an eighth of it. Unfortunately, had your father used his wisely, he might have taken higher rank before his death. That defiance, in fact, served him well,” he paused
,
as his entire being seemed to darken, “until he challenged me.”

“And how did he do that?” I asked
with
my glowering remaining unchanged.

Sartorius didn’t respond for several seconds and this was where I began to understand him. His refusal to speak again was in direct defiance to me. He was telling me that I didn’t control this conversation, this predicament, or even my life. He’d been exercising this authority from the moment Jameson and I entered the room. The greeting to his back, the demand that we bow, the delay in speaking to us,
the demand that Jameson identify him,
the insistence that Jameson prove Sartorius’s reputation preceded him
,
and the abrupt interruption of Jameson’s recount of his exploits all added up. Sartorius wanted us to know that he was in control. And it all made sense.

The Sevens were terrified of losing control
over
their reputation and ultimately their provinces. Jameson and I had threatened that control by falling in love. Now, Sartorius was going to exercise his control and rebalance the power.

When he spoke,
his words came out
slowly, demonstrating that it was on his own terms. “Your father was a fool. Only a fool ignores the warning to avoid someone and then actively pursues her.”

Oddly enough, the flicker of a smile rose up on my lips.

“You find that humorous?” he speculated.

“Poignant,” I answered.

“Tell me why.”

“Because Jameson and I
were
warned to stay away from each other, too.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jameson
glance over
at me.

Sartorius’s face contorted in anger
,
and his fingers tightened around the top of his cane. He steadied his emotions before seething, “Yet another example of fools.”

The inspiring notion that my mother and father had loved each other to the point
of risking
their lives to be together and that Jameson and I share
the same love ended as another thought found its way in. I voiced it only to help ensure Jameson would leave this room alive and well.

“Jameson and I are no longer together.”

“It is unfortunate for you,” Sartorius replied
,
indifferently, “that it really doesn’t matter to me one way or another.”

I knew immediately what he meant. He had determined, regardless of whether he believed us or not, we were still a threat.

Sartorius moved quickly then, stepping forward the three paces it took to reach us. It was a calculated move, one that he’d clearly been delaying. Jameson saw him coming and moved in front of me. Sartorius’s eyes never deviated from mine as he placed a flat hand against Jameson. Immediately, the sizzle and smell of searing flesh filled the room. I saw Jameson bend
over, grunting
and clenching his teeth.
That’s when I saw
Sartorius’s hand. It was pressing against Jameson’s shoulder, fingers splayed and palm positioned to get as much coverage as
possible.

A quick snap of his fingers brought a Vire forward
and
he spoke an incantation so swiftly I almost didn’t comprehend what he was saying.

“Silence these lips, blind these eyes. Punish them for their rebellion and lies.”

Punish them for their rebellion and lies.
That appeal repeated in my head, my terror growing with each succeeding word.

No, they didn’t believe me. They believed Jameson and I were still together.

I opened my mouth to shout, ward them off, challenge them, make them feel the threat of my own incantation
,
but no words came out.
Next,
my eyesight began to fail
,
as if a black cloak had
been placed
over my eyes, leaving me completely blind.

Through the darkness, Sartorius’s blasé announcement reached my ears. “Death will come this day
,
but it will not hasten.”

His insinuation was instantly clear to me. Sartorius was going to take his time with us. And, of course, he would. This was a moment he could relish. His two greatest nemeses were standing feebly before him, unable to protect or defend themselves. I knew without a doubt he would use every tool in his arsenal to make us feel the pain he endured while living in fear all these years.

Now, it became clear
what Miss Celia and Miss Mabelle had been preparing us to defend against throughout their lessons. This very moment.

Jameson caught on and our hands found each other, gripping tightly. Soon
,
I felt a surge of energy
coursing
through me,
an energy
I knew came from both
of us.
I combined the casts I’d learned, repeating them in my head as the energy between Jameson and I grew.

“Power be drawn and make us one with thee. Make us stronger, make us speak, make us see.”