Prophecy (Residue Series #4) (27 page)

“But Hans, his son, and the few – although growing – number of Dissidents…they don’t know.”

“How do you know? People can do great things, Jameson.”

“I’m not refuting that, and if trained properly they can be a strong, united force. But it won’t be enough. We had defenses in place a few weeks ago, when Jocelyn was taken from me, and too many lost their lives in that fight…just…too many. Each time, the number of Vires grows, they are stronger and eventually they’ll overcome us.
That
is what Sartorius is counting on.”

Again, Eran gave me a well-meaning nod.

“I have some…people,” he suggested, drawing my attention, “who I rely on in these types of circumstances.”

There was a hesitation in his tone that prompted me to ask, “Nefarious people?”

“No, just…different. Haven’t brought them in on what we’re doing here because I agree with your primary tactic…infiltration. Works with small groups and when you’re outnumbered, but eventually The Sevens will clue in.”

And that’s when he hit on exactly what had been hanging over me. If the Sevens were paying attention, and I knew they were, this latest execution would lead them to our method.

“So you’re suggesting?” I prompted him.

“Magdalene has a phrase she likes to use. Power in numbers.”

“Maggie is smart,” I said offhandedly.

He laughed to himself, suddenly deep in thought. “You have no idea.” Turning on his heel, he stepped back and out of my sight. When I heard him next, no more than a few seconds had passed, but his voice was hollow, as if it came from a distance, and it echoed off the trees. “I’ll meet you at the village.”

I scanned my surroundings in search of him but he was gone. Gone. There was no movement inside the kitchen, none down the driveway. The only object that seemed out of place was a feather drifting down to land a foot away.

Hallucinations are a common side effect of sleep deprivation
, I thought,
get a grip
.

Laughing, I headed inside for some sleep. That was an honest goal. Sleep was required. I felt it in the heaviness of my eyelids and in the sluggishness of my limbs.

And then I saw Jocelyn’s door slightly ajar.

I couldn’t stop myself from moving toward it. Peering inside, I found her eyes were on me. They were unhurried, calm, at peace. Just as languidly, her hand slipped out from beneath the sheets and beckoned me. I didn’t hesitate; my response was instant and reflexive. I wanted to hold her…desperately.

Crossing the room in two strides, I pronounced, hoarsely, “This won’t hurt.”

Soon I was on my knees at her bed. My hands were cupping her face. Her hair was brushing my fingertips. Her lips were open, anticipating.

She sighed, a stifled release which was wrought with tension. Her fingers came up to my jaw, and she pulled me, gripping me, wanting me.

She needs me too, I realized, so frenzied my next thoughts tumbled together.
To feel her again…to have her respond to me…God, that’s all I want.

Our lips came together, and we kissed…wild, frantic. There was no logical order to our actions, and somehow I found myself lying over her, our bodies pressed together, our hips grinding.

I consumed her, taking in her scent, the taste of her skin, the feel of her, the excitement in her thrusts.

And then we heard the creak, the damn creak right outside the bedroom door.

Both of us froze, our breathing coming to a standstill.

The creaking continued dissipating until the heavy footsteps of Rufus O’Malley faded completely.

It’s a good thing he’s the quiet one, I thought.

My eyes never left Jocelyn’s, unable to tear myself away. She, however, was intently focused on the door, certain it was going to open. If it had, I’m not sure what her plan was, but it probably didn’t include my body laying over hers.

“It’s gone,” I whispered.

“He,” she corrected me, appalled. “I think it was Rufus.”

I grinned, knowing she wasn’t following me. “Charlotte recanted her curse. It’s gone. And, yes, that was Rufus.”

She giggled, sending her chest seductively into mine.

“How did you know…that it was safe to kiss me?” she whispered.

“When you healed me in China.”

She nodded thoughtfully, and I could tell she was holding something back. “You knew earlier, didn’t you?”

She shifted her head in modesty. “It was in her expression, when she stood outside the kitchen door. Charlotte is emotional, even though she tries to hide it.”

That’s ironic
, I mused, and a laugh escaped under my breath.

She knows my sister better than me.
Must be a girl thing
.

Staring down at her, my excitement rose, increasing even more when she sensed it and her inhale brought her chest up to mine again.

“I love you.”

And her eyes softened.

“I know,” she whispered. Then she kissed me, though it wasn’t passionate like before. It was a single connection between our lips. The heat had left the moment, and in its place was kindness.

I added with a voice hoarse from emotion, “So much, Jocelyn.”

“I know.”

And then she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around me, shifting her body until we were lying on our sides. Her breathing grew steadier, calmer as she faded to sleep.

I listened to it, my eyes drifting over her serene, beautiful face, outlining the curves of her eyes, her lips. The silence in the room, and throughout the house, felt like a cocoon. But I was unable to resist telling her one last thought. “I would die for you,” I channeled.

The pace of her breathing remained consistent, her eyes didn’t flutter, and there was no surprise in her reaction. It was as if she knew it all along. The reply that ran through my head confirmed it. Softly, in a sleepy whisper, she channeled, “I know.”

Then just before sleep took over, she added something that shook me.

“But I’m not going to allow that to happen.”

There was a warning behind it, telling me that she was going to do something reckless to prevent it. And that scared me more than death itself.

Unable to shake the unsettling feeling that followed, I lay awake for hours, and am certain that my lids were closed no longer than fifteen minutes before Maggie was pounding on Jocelyn’s door.

“Time to move,” she announced, sounding like a drill sergeant.

But when we made it downstairs, we found ourselves alone.

“They’re all gone,” Jocelyn muttered, spinning around the kitchen as I peered into the parlor and Ezra’s study.

“Place is empty,” I confirmed, while watching her hand reach for something on the kitchen table. Whatever it was, its magnitude was enough to draw her attention.

“We’ll meet up with you,” she read. “But Eran should be there by now. Maggie.”

How she knew about Eran, or the fact that he was returning to the village, made no sense to me.

Dropping the note, Jocelyn stared at me, perplexed. “Why didn’t she wait? She was just here a few minutes ago.”

I shrugged, and took her hand, enjoying the feel of it as her fingers responded and laced with mine. “We should get going.”

We left, with Jocelyn levitating us like a rocket into the dusky horizon. It was the start of another evening, although I felt this one would be different. Something larger was taking place, a turning point had been reached. Only after arriving at the village did I understand exactly how true my instinct turned out to be.

We found hundreds of people lounging along the docks, their legs dangling over the edges or sprawled out across the planks. On closer evaluation, as we landed, I noticed that they came from all walks of life. Some spoke Russian, others Italian. Some wore black cloaks and carried brooms, others held swords. Some wore family stones, some did not. Because people tend to gravitate to what and who is familiar, those in our world collected to the north side while the rest gathered to the south. Hans, I assumed, was somewhere on our side of the village.

As they caught sight of us, those who were sitting slowly rose, and followed us with their eyes until we stopped at my parent’s shack, which dissected both worlds of people. Whether by accident or design, Maggie, Eran, and their housemates were at the center of these new arrivals, a small group waiting for us by the door. Directly next to them were the Weatherfords, my family, and Kalisha.

The swamp, which typically chirped, squawked, and sloshed, was silent. All ears were attuned to us. Even the insects seemed to be parked and listening.

“These are your people,” I assumed, stepping up to Eran.

“They are.”

I nodded as a swell of optimism surged through me. “Where did you find them?”

He smirked. “Everywhere.”

He turned and faced the men and women he’d brought with him. “This is Jameson Caldwell. You’ll be taking commands from him. He has infiltrated our adversary’s headquarters, assembled an army of his own people, and has extensive knowledge of our enemies’ beliefs, practices, and strategies.”

Jocelyn, whose hand hadn’t left mine since the house, squeezed in reflex, and I caught a glimpse of an image soaring through her thoughts. It was of me, standing before an army.

By that time, Eran was facing me again, seeming to be waiting for an order.

“We’ll need to evaluate their strengths,” I commented, intending to segregate and assess them in groups.

Eran had another idea. “Well,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle. “We aren’t entirely feeble.”

Then, as if it was previously synchronized, a ripping sound resonated across the village. Shirts fell away, or fluttered as something pulled at them from behind. Then we watched as feathered appendages extended from behind their bodies, entirely white and spanning three times their arm length. Each shuddered, and then folded behind them, reminding me of a bird coming to a state of rest.

“Holy sh-” Nolan said from behind me, although he was too stunned to carry out the rest.

Others behind me gasped, and the creaking boards told me that some had even stepped back.

“What are they?” Nolan asked, on edge.

Someone behind me replied with thick sarcasm, “Wings.”

“No…what are they?” he asked, sweeping his hand in front of those standing before us.

“They,” I said firmly, “are our allies.”

He did have reason to be upset. We had just witnessed our friends parts protrude from them where there shouldn’t be any. Still, somehow, a laugh found its way out of me as I turned to Jocelyn.

“I think we have our army.”

“Yes,” she muttered with a nod. “I think we do.”

Curious now, I asked Maggie and Eran, “So what other talents do you have?”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, I had a feeling you two were different.”

The side of Maggie’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “You’re right.”

Behind them, a pair of wings shook, causing my eyes to drift back to them. Continuing on, I surveyed the group, and on giving them a closer inspection, I was sidetracked.

“I’ve seen a feather like that before,” I said, staring at Jameson’s appendage. “It was picked up from the Ministry’s floor on the night it was attacked.”

Maggie gave Eran a proud smile, and I knew my assertion was true.

“You’re the ones who attacked it, weren’t you?”

“It’s how we lost Magdalene,” Eran confirmed.

“And that’s why you ended up in the prison alongside Jocelyn,” I added.

Maggie nodded.

“It’s why you didn’t wait for us at the house on our way here,” I continued.

“That’s correct,” Ezra said.

“And those,” I tipped my head at Maggie’s wings, “are why you wear the leather suit with the holes in the back.”

Her proud smirk was my answer.

“And this is what you meant,” I said, motioning to Eran’s wings, “when Stalwart noticed you adjusted to levitation easily. You said you didn’t have a problem with air transportation. And you wouldn’t…because you can fly….”

He smirked in response.

“You said that?” asked Maggie with an admiring chuckle.

“I did.”

At that point, only one word came to mind. “Impressive.”

“We can be,” said Maggie, flatly, without any hint of ego.

“What do you call yourselves?”

Without hesitation, Eran declared proudly. “Alterums.”

“Okay,” I said with an affirming nod. “What other abilities do your Alterums bring?”

“Right, you asked about other talents. Knowing them would help,” said Eran, pausing to assess the shack to this right. “Maggie told you in Lacinda’s cavern that I have a way with metal….”

“I remember.”

A metal roof near us began to crumple like an invisible hand was crushing a piece of paper. No longer able to reach the walls where it had been propped up, the ball of metal fell inside the shack. Eran casually walked inside, picked it up, and brought it back. Without another word, he used a sharp edge of the ball to cut a deep gash down his arm. As blood poured from the wound, Jocelyn stepped forward, ready to heal him. But by the time she was close enough, the gash had disappeared.