Prophecy (Residue Series #4) (6 page)

“Eran,” I said. “Keep your weapon where it is.”

“I have no intention of doing otherwise,” he muttered.

Stalwart ignored our stances, and the threat to their necks, and began to speak. “Your weapons threaten yourselves more than us.”

“Cast,” I solicited, “and I will cast against you.”

This didn’t seem to concern him.

As if I hadn’t heard him, he dared, “Use your weapons and you will find escaping from the Ministry to be impossible. Your efforts to reclaim your women will fail. They will exist separate from you for the remainder of your lives. That, gentlemen, will be more devastating to you than a quick death for us.”

He made a good point. As I calculated the situation we were in, I realized that Eran and I were ready for battle, but, ironically, we seemed to be the only ones.

“Who sent you?” I asked, knowing their excursion to the depths of the Ministry wasn’t because they were simply on a midnight stroll.

“Sartorius knows your plan.” My grip tightened around the blade’s handle. Stalwart, evidently, had seen combat because this didn’t seem to intimidate him. “And you picked a fine time to implement it,” he sneered. “Security has been added tonight, something having to do with the interrogation of two Dissidents.” In a motion that brought his skin tighter against my blade’s edge, Stalwart tipped his head toward the table behind us, at the one where Mr. Thibodeaux lay, and added derisively, “Looks like that’s been accomplished.”

What struck me while listening to Stalwart was the same trait that made me notice him in the mess hall. He was human, a part that seemed absent from the rest of the Vires.

“If you don’t want the same happening to your women, you’ll need to trust us.”

“And why should we do that?” asked Eran, rightly suspicious.

“Because we were given orders to kill you, and you’re still breathing.”

“Which means you have an agenda,” I countered.

Stalwart smiled. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Another valid point.

His smile fell away. “If I wanted you dead, I would have taken the opportunity given me long ago.”

“And how would you have done that?” I tested, more curious than alarmed.

“By ensuring my weapon landed where I was instructed.”

“Which was?”

“Where yours is now,” he replied, again tipping his neck against my blade.

“And where did it land instead?” I asked slowly, because I was beginning to understand what he was inferring.

“Just above your upper lip, Jameson Caldwell.” After making this declaration, he studied me, waiting for my reaction.

I didn’t reply immediately, my initial response being the involuntary tensing of my muscles as a single string of words began repeating in my mind, which I eventually vocalized.

“You were the Vire sent to kill me at birth.”

His reply bordered on humor. “Pleased to finally meet you.”

Only then did I lower my weapon.

“What are you doing?” Eran muttered.

“He missed on purpose,” I replied. “Which means-”

“You have an ally,” said Stalwart.

I glanced at Eran and then at his sword. He seemed opposed to the idea of dropping our guard but, hesitantly, he unpinned Stalwart’s men. I noted, however, he didn’t sheath his sword.

“They will be coming for the bodies,” Stalwart warned, “and that means we’ll need to get moving. Incantatio alligaveritis.” The last two words rolled off his tongue as if they were a part of his message. They weren’t. I instantly knew what he had done, well before Eran.

The sword Eran held dropped to the ground, the clang vibrating off the rock walls, spurring me into action. My blade returned to Stalwart’s throat.

“Remove the binding cast.”

“No,” Stalwart retorted. “I know you…I don’t know your friend. Until I trust him, he won’t be relieved of his restraints.”

“Remove-”

Eran cut me off. “Let it go, Jameson.” He inclined his head toward Stalwart and demanded in a way that didn’t leave room for disagreement, despite the fact his hands were now bound by an invisible force behind his back, “You can use me as a prisoner.”

“We intend to,” replied Stalwart, decisively.

As if he hadn’t heard Stalwart, Eran continued. “Under one condition…you’ll be taking me with you.”

I figured out Eran right there. His abrupt demand said it all. He had no intention of challenging Stalwart. He had one concern, only one, and it had nothing to do with his own wellbeing. His sole purpose was getting to Maggie, and he would do whatever it took.

His resolve was impressive, but then I had the same feelings about Jocelyn.

Stalwart showed his agreement by seizing Eran’s arm and leading him through the door. I trailed his men, observing as they marched with an air of authority through the Ministry. We crossed the path of four Vire contingents, all without any opposition. Not a single curious glance was made in our direction.

Apparently, Eran noticed this too. “What do you do here Stalwart?” he asked, once we were in a vacant hallway.

“I ensure the safe transport of prisoners.”

That stunned me. “But you were sent to apprehend me?” I asked, muddling my way through understanding. “Why didn’t Sartorius send someone whose job is to arrest and detain?”

Stalwart paused, and the stiffening of his shoulders told me that he didn’t want to answer.

His gruff reply reinforced my theory. “You’ll need to ask him that.”

I didn’t speak again because, at that point, I got the distinct feeling we were being led into a trap.

4
LACINDA

W
E CHASED NIGHTFALL TO THE OPPOSITE
side of the world, reaching the Oregon coastline just as darkness fell. The last hint of light peering between the jagged tops of pine trees on the horizon slipped away as our feet touched down on the soggy earth, and we stared up at Lacinda Pierce’s two-story Victorian home. It was just as I remembered it, dismal, lonely, and reminding me of an animal studying us from the shadows. In the distance waves crashed against the rocks down the cliff face below us, bringing back to me the memory of Jocelyn’s damp prison walls. It got my legs moving the second I found my balance.

“What’s your name?” Stalwart’s gruff voice asked from behind me, even though Eran’s brisk pace was rapidly reaching mine.

“Eran…Talor.”

“You took that well, Eran,” Stalwart noted.

“Air transport doesn’t bother me,” he stated impassively. “What does is that I don’t know the layout of this house. Anyone want to fill me in?” He came into view at my side then, so I figured it was up to me to answer.

“There is a parlor off to the right, a set of stairs to the second floor in the entryway, and a basement below the structure. Wish I had more details, but I haven’t been past the parlor.”

Eran gave me a fleeting look. “If that’s as far as you’ve gone, how do you know there’s a basement?”

My response was flat, wanting to end the questioning so I could focus entirely on the house, and any potential risk that might suddenly emerge from it. “Because that’s where Jocelyn and Maggie are being held.”

On that assertion, neither of us bothered to slow our pace. At the door, my foot landed just to the left of the handle, and its accompanying thrust opened it, spraying wood splinters into the house. I expected there to be at least one Vire waiting on the opposite side. There wasn’t. Instead, we were met only with a dark, vacant foyer.

Eran entered first, stopping just inside for a look around. The lights were off, and it was silent. Even the grandfather clock in the parlor had ceased its ticking. “Is this house unoccupied?”

“No,” Stalwart and I answered, both of us grumbling at the realization that we should have met some resistance by now.

Again, I got the feeling we were being led into a trap. This scenario brought me back to the first time I visited Lacinda’s house. We hadn’t faced any opposition then either, not until the end, when it suited The Sevens best.

Eran sensed something was wrong too because his arm flew backward, fingers extended. “My sword,” he said in reference to the weapon one of Stalwart’s men had picked up after Eran’s wrists were bound. “Now.”

The man waited for Stalwart’s approval, and handed the sword to Eran. This spooked the other one who muttered something that sounded like the beginning of a cast, “Eye of bat, tongue of cat…”

Eran and I didn’t wait for him to finish.

“Stairs,” he said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I replied.

We went in search of them, any flight that would take us down, not up. The rooms of Lacinda’s first floor were empty of furniture and lacked any sign of descending stairs. They were also silent, each consecutive one unsettling me more as the lack of Vires caused me to wonder what in the hell was going on here.

A possession as priceless as Jocelyn wouldn’t be left unguarded.

Having now come full circle, we ended our search back in the entryway.

“Maybe they moved them,” suggested one of Stalwart’s men.

“Yeah,” said the other one, “yeah, maybe they learned you escaped and, for caution’s sake, transferred them to another location.”

“That’s possible,” I said, “but it doesn’t
feel
right.”

Eran shook his head, perplexed. “No, it doesn’t. I feel… Magdalene is close by.”

The first one who spoke snickered. “You say you
feel-
”

“Shh,” Eran snapped.

This was good because if Eran hadn’t quieted him I would have done it. What Eran honed in on was the same thing I’d picked up on right before Eran shut him up. It was faint, but distinguishable.

“You talking about the whistle?” asked Stalwart.

“Yes,” stated Eran, both of us approaching it simultaneously. “I am.”

I held out my hand in search of the breeze squeezing through the opening in the wall, while Eran began pushing against the panel. As he moved farther left, the wall gradually swung open, making a quiet scraping noise and revealing the hidden staircase behind it. More importantly, the walls were made of chiseled rock and glistened with water.

The staircase spiraled downward for a good fifty feet until reaching a dark hallway where yellow light flickered from the sliver below the door at the end. We opened it to find three cages lining the back wall, the cell bars made of rock.

I didn’t recognize the woman in the first cage. A passing evaluation of her told me only that she was dark-skinned and elderly. She stayed directly in the center, unmoving, ready and suspicious. The next cage held Maggie Tanner, who immediately leapt toward us, her hands wrapping around the bars that held her in. Her eyes were eager, harboring the same intensity Eran had when it was clear he was thinking of her. The last person who came into my view was Jocelyn.

I crossed the room before my mind knew what my body was doing. She reached out to me, her arms coming through the bars that kept her trapped. Then I felt her chilled body against me, and her struggle to hold on through the cool bars separating us. The dress she still wore from earlier left her arms bare, leaving her exposed to the cold, which made infuriated me. That feeling only grew as she trembled against me.

I tore the black shirt – a standard issuance of the Vire uniform – off me and pulled it around her. The cavern air hit me, and only made me more vengeful toward Lacinda for leaving Jocelyn under-dressed. Jocelyn didn’t seem to mind any longer, though, as her eyes settled on my chest.

She cleared her thoughts with a few blinks and then said, “How…” She paused, seeming to struggle with the fact that I was standing here. “How did you find us?”

“The water,” I said, my gaze flickering to the shiny walls behind her. “Seepage from the ocean waves….”

One side of her lips rose in a half-smile. “On the stage…in Mexico…” She laughed through her charming little nose. “I should have known what you were doing.”

“Yes,” I chastised, teasing. “You should have.”

She smiled to herself and muttered, “Memories can be potent.”

“Especially when they concern a prison cell,” I added. “It’s time to get you out of here.”

I kissed her, delicately, intending it to be swift, but my need for her brought on an abrupt surge, pressing my lips momentarily harder against hers. But it seemed to leave her happily stunned.

I pulled away with a deep sigh, partly because I didn’t want to let her go and partly because this was where my plan ended. I knew she would be enclosed in a cage, but I didn’t know where to find the key.

“How dense are these bars?” I asked out loud, taking hold of one to feel the stiffness against my grip.

“Dense,” the firm voice of a woman answered. It came from the first cell, closest to the door, the one holding the woman I’d never seen before.

She pointed to a bar that she had dented while chipping away at it. “This took me five years, and I don’t think we have that much time.”

I stopped to evaluate her, which she openly acknowledged by standing her ground and doing the same back. Her confidence was admirable. It couldn’t be easy living as a spectacle in the confines of a cage. And I was certain that was how Lacinda treated them. Pets to be toyed with, manipulated for entertainment.