Prophecy (Residue Series #4) (34 page)

Her eyes darkened. “I have no peers.”

I felt my mouth twitch into a crooked grin. “I figured you’d say as much. Does that mean you refuse to make a decision?”

She tilted her head back, attempting to snub us, and her silence was good enough for me.

“Then I hereby sentence you to be delivered to your peers.”

Her eyelids shot up. “Truly?” she asked, excited. “I won’t go before a jury? To die by hanging? In the courtyard? As a spectacle?”

“You mean,” I said tightly, “the way
your
victims were put to death?”

She thought about this for a moment and then said, “On first examination, those hangings might have appeared harsh.”

I turned from her, having heard enough. Besides, there were others far more interested than me in interacting with Lacinda.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I called out.

A door opened in a room down the hall and the sound of approaching footsteps followed. When Mrs. LeClaire appeared in the doorway, I watched Lacinda’s face turn white. She entered, the first in a long line of women and men who wore bones as jewelry and carried various artifacts.

“These aren’t my peers,” Lacinda said, the words not able to spout from her mouth fast enough. “These-these are voodoo.”

“They dabble in dark arts. They use what tools they have to gain an advantage. They have done inexplicable things to others. In these ways, you are on common ground.” To the crowd now assembled inside the door, I announced, “She’s all yours.”

Jocelyn and I left then, and the door closed behind us with a click that seemed to travel the entire length of the hushed corridor. We made it halfway to the stairs before the silence was broken again, with Lacinda’s rattling scream of pain.

22
PROMISE

“
I
SN’T THIS PRECIOUS,”
C
HARLOTTE MUTTERED WITH
a smirk.

She was standing in my bedroom doorway, watching me slip my billfold into my back pocket.

“Enough, Charlotte,” I said, unhappy with my willingness to play along with her charade.

Her expression gave way to a more genuine one and she replied, “I’m serious, Jameson. You two have been through a lot, more than any teenager should have to. You deserve this date with her.”

I paused and then laughed under my breath. There was a bit of an understatement in her message, although I doubt it was intended.

Her eyes lowered to the floor as she pondered out loud, “Who would have thought that a Caldwell would be taking a Weatherford out on a date?”

“The world has changed, Charlotte.”

“Yes, it has. For the better.”

“Better?” I questioned. “So you now approve of me seeing Jocelyn.”

“Well, I still think she has an air about her…,” she muttered to herself, but when I sighed loudly it shook her back to reality. “But, yes, there have been improvements. We’re back home, the village is thriving again, no one is fighting, there are no more Sevens, no more Vires…no more living in the bayou,” she added with a grimace. “Now, if she had ended up killing you, on the other hand….” She stopped and shook her head gravely.

“Let’s not go there,” I suggested and started for the door.

Charlotte didn’t budge. “No black cloak?” she said, and I knew she was teasing.

“Come on, “Charlotte.”

“And no Vire uniform?”

“Seriously?” I retorted.

Now, I wondered if she was stalling.

Her hand slid into her pocket as she kept her eyes on me, unwilling to let me pass. She then held out her fist to me, her fingers wrapped around whatever she’d found in her jeans.

My shoulders dropped impatiently. “I have to get going.”

Then she revealed what she held and I couldn’t stop the smile from surfacing.

“You’re a Caldwell,” she said with stern sincerity, taking the chain she’d retrieved, holding a single agate stone at the end, and dropping it over my head. “You still need to act like one, even if you’re dating a Weatherford.”

And, damn it, despite all she had done to keep me and Jocelyn apart, my chest swelled with appreciation.

“Now go,” she said, tipping her head toward the stairs. “You don’t want to keep the princess waiting.”

“Charlotte,” I grumbled in warning.

She waved me off, but her face told me that she understood she had crossed a line.

“Thank you,” I said before moving by her.

I reached the first floor before she called out to me and what she said was actually comforting. The Weatherfords and my family were back to an easy truce, one that I didn’t feel would be broken this time. Charlotte was the only hold out. I’d been working on her over the last two weeks since the occurrence in the bayou, but she hadn’t budged much. Her tip meant she considered Jocelyn’s point of view and wanted it to be a positive one, and this was good news.

“Don’t forget to open her car door,” she reminded loudly.

I grinned to myself and shouted back, “Who says we’re driving?”

Her snorting laughter floated down to me as I headed out the door.

I took my usual path, cutting between the houses and using tree branches to hurdle gates. It was refreshing, after realizing that I no longer needed to watch the skies or the street corners or the darkest part of the shadows for Vires. I could finally show up on the Weatherford doorstep, ring the doorbell, and not risk my life doing it.

For that reason alone, when I got there and pushed the bell, I relished the sound it made inside the house. The door opened and I half-expected to find Miss Mabelle standing on the opposite side. A pang of sadness ran through me when it wasn’t her surly expression greeting me. As unwelcoming as it had been, I knew I’d miss it. Instead, this scowl was worn by Isabella, which suddenly made me feel like I was on display. Even before I was allowed in, she evaluated me closely.

“Nice to see you in street clothes,” she remarked stiffly, noting my cotton shirt and jeans.

“Thank you, Isabella, for allowing me to take your daughter on a date.”

Her lips pinched closed as she muttered, “Mmmhmm…”

Then there she was, coming down the stairs with her hair flowing behind her, the skirt she wore kicking up to show off her legs, and a smile meant solely for me.

My heart skipped a beat and I wondered if this was how every guy felt on a “first” date.

“Enjoy your evening,” she said leaving the room.

“You’re not going to ask where I’m taking her?”

With her back to us, just before slipping through the kitchen door, she shrugged and muttered tiredly, “I already know.”

I looked back at Jocelyn and said, “Why am I not surprised…”

She giggled, ran for me, and kissed me hard on the lips. I returned the favor and asked, “Ready?”

She nodded, took my hand and I opened the front door to find Maggie and Eran froze with his fist in the air as he prepared to knock.

“Um, hi,” I said, confused.

“Sorry,” Maggie uttered, although she didn’t sound sincere. There was something else of greater importance on her mind. “We don’t want to hold up your date-”

“You know about it?” Jocelyn asked, astonished.

“The entire school knows,” Maggie replied bluntly.

Eran interjected to smooth over that little shock. “We thought you’d want to know something as soon as possible.”

My eyebrows lifted. “What’s that?”

“Can we speak in private?” Maggie asked, her eyes darting from side to side, scanning the rooms beyond us.

I looked to Jocelyn, who said “sure” and led us into Lizzy’s study. It was lined with books but dimly lit, so I couldn’t see how it would do much good for reading. Still, it suited our needs just fine.

Once inside, Eran ensured the door was closed by giving it a suspicious rattle.

“What’s this about?” I asked.

Eran gestured to Maggie and she launched into her bizarre explanation. “You’ve heard the rumor at school about what I can do? The one about carrying messages to and from the afterlife?”

“They say you speak to the dead,” I asserted.

“Well, it’s true.”

Jocelyn immediately supported her. “It is true, Jameson.”

“All right.”

“And your Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia visited me last night.”

That news sent a jolt through me and through Jocelyn; I knew because we were still holding hands.

“They wanted me to give you something.” She glanced around the room. “Do you know where Miss Mabelle’s cane has gone?”

“Yes,” Jocelyn said, curiously, and released my hand to reach behind the desk.

It was hanging from the arch at the edge.

“Can I see it?” Maggie asked, already extending her hands.

Jocelyn gave it to her, Maggie turned it upside down and began unscrewing the rubber tip. When she turned it upright, a sliver of yellow peeked out. She took the edges and delicately wiggled it free.

Holding up the rolled pieces of ancient papyrus, she began to explain. “These are why Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia knew the right time to bring in Ms. Vielleux’s coven, so they could give Jocelyn the scar that brought her into your world. It’s why the DeVilles didn’t leave their store and go into hiding. They were needed there in order to end Sisera’s life. These,” she stressed, “are why The Sevens failed. There were multiple sets drawn up, the counterfeits and the originals.” She then handed the rolls to Jocelyn. As she took them, Maggie added, “They said you will ask why they didn’t tell you sooner…why they didn’t tell you that your destiny wasn’t quite as you were told. Apparently you were supposed to kill Jameson,” she paused to give us an uncomfortably grim expression. “And their answer was emotion and believability. They needed you to conjure the amount of emotion required to help end the final conflict. Only if you truly thought we were at the end of our rope would you summon what was needed. And they needed you to act believable so that The Sevens couldn’t detect which set of records they had been given, and the true prophecy could then unfold.”

Staring at them, trying to piece it all together, I asked almost inaudibly, “And which are these?”

“The original records written by the first channelers.”

As Maggie confirmed what we already knew, Jocelyn exhaled entirely. She carried them to Lizzy’s desk, adjusted the light and unrolled the papyrus while the rest of us encircled the records.

“She kept them all this time,” Jocelyn commented, and then her face stiffened. “She died protecting them. They both did, didn’t they?”

I took her hand and her facial expression relaxed some.

Maggie gave her a weak, sympathetic smile, and nodded. “They’re happy now,” she added in a way that was too genuine to be questioned. And I felt something warm spread through Jocelyn’s heart.

In the silence that followed, our focus shifted back to the records for a closer look. They were laid out now, the corners weighted with various items from Lizzy’s desk.

“It’s in a foreign language,” Jocelyn pointed out sadly.

“An ancient language,” Eran corrected. “Sweetheart, can you translate?”

Maggie, to my surprise, gave it an honest shot, repositioning herself around the desk so that she faced the records correctly. After a long, hard assessment of them, she began to speak…

“False futures will be recorded; broken parts of the true future will be passed on as the genuine one, leading astray the malevolent ones. Take note, herein lies the only true future of those who will be called The Sevens…

A noble lass of the sixteenth Caldwell generation and a fair maiden of the sixteenth Weatherford generation will find love. That love be the beginning, the heart, and the end of a rebellion against those who will be called The Sevens.

“The maiden will acquire Relicuum, future remains of those dying. She will accept healing from her father. Channeling will be given from a man who sees the dead. To be able to lift from the ground will come in a marsh as she fails to heal a dying man. She will control the elements when a restored enemy gives her life. This will end her cycle of rebirth.

“Under the noble lass, forces will unite. This will be done in the midst of a false truce offered, the trying of innocent lives, a failed revolt and a massive exodus. Those who are trusted the most will turn on them; alliances will shift; allegiances will change. They will give all they have to save each other. Lives will be offered in battle and in solitude; all hope will be lost. And they will rise up against The Sevens, in secret in the beginning but will grow bolder in their attempts. And each of The Seven will meet Death with the lent hand of the noble lass and the maiden. Before the last is to fall, those who are loved the most will be taken. And while love will be the spark to the rebellion, it will be this capture that stokes the flames. And the last of those who will be called the sevens will burn in the fire he created.”

Maggie stopped then, apparently finished.

Jocelyn murmured, “That…all of it…is true. Not how I expected when the counterfeit records were relayed back to us, but still true.”