Our evening school had been transformed, too. Ms. Veilleux and her staff made the most of their spare days to set up tarot card stations, palm reading stations, food stations with dishes like edible fingers and spider popcorn, drink stations with cauldrons of steaming brews, and a place for leaving private messages for the dead. If there was music, however, it couldn’t be heard over the squeals of laughter as we assessed one another’s costumes.
No one seemed to notice when the Caldwells arrived, me included even though my attention was on that sole purpose since entering the courtyard.
“
Tarot cards?” he whispered, referring to the fact I was standing beside Miranda having her cards read. “And I thought you didn’t believe in this hocus pocus…”
My lips turning up in a smile, I rotated at the waist to find him standing beside me. Dressed in a black tuxedo, his sturdy build showed the outline of his muscles through the fabric, and the diagonal white face mask revealed only his cheek, half of his seductively contoured lips, and the remnants of the scar above his lip. I was momentarily distracted.
Apparently, he was too, because his grin fell and he swallowed back the passion so evident in his eyes. “You’re stunning,” he whispered passed an unmistakable lump in his throat.
“
Thank you,” I said demurely though not intending it.
We stood awkwardly in silence, drinking in the sight of each other, and then another voice broke through our focus.
It was more of a gasp actually.
Jameson and I turned in unison to find Miranda was no longer at the table but tarot cards were, nonetheless, laid across it. The woman, dressed in a colorful silk wrap, spoke limited English with a thick Spanish accent as she placed a painted nail on top of one card.
“
Enemies,” she stated.
Her finger moved to the card next to it.
“
Lovers…”
Her face contorted into confusion then.
“
Enemies…but lovers?”
Jameson briefly placed a hand on her shoulder while he explained through a chuckle as best he could. “It stumps us, too.”
Then Jameson’s hand was on my back, guiding me through the crowd. He directed me toward the stairs running up the side of both ends of the courtyard to the second floor where the voices from below became more muffled. This level was vacant and dimmer, without the gas lamps lit like those on the bottom floor. We took a third flight of stairs, curving around the edge of the building until the courtyard was behind us and the city lights extended out ahead.
It took me a second to realize we were on the roof. In fact, only when I finished surveying where we’d ended up did I find what Jameson had done.
To our right, on the flattest part, he’d brought up a canvas bag similar to the ones used on deliveries to the village. It leaned against one side of the layered rooftop, unidentifiable items protruding through the top. Other than that, the roof was empty.
“
We’re not supposed to be up here but I wanted to show you…” he said while removing his mask.
I took my mask off too and glanced around before teasing, “You shouldn’t have…”
“
Wait,” he chuckled. “Just a second…”
He moved quickly then and I got the impression it was because he didn’t want me to lose hope he’d put any effort into his first date with me. Pulling a lantern from the bag and lighting it, he stooped down in the front of the horizontal wall.
“
Here,” he urged.
Curious, I stepped forward, although I did it cautiously. The building we were standing on was old enough to send us through the ceiling at any given moment. But once at his side, the age of the structure became unpredictably heartwarming.
In the lantern’s glow, Jameson pointed to carvings made in the wall - a list of names. They were cut into the wood with various techniques and angles so I deduced each one was made by their respective owner.
“
Remember when Ms. Veilleux disciplined us that night in the courtyard? She mentioned that this school had created some of the most gifted of our kind? These are their names…”
“
Huh, think we should add ours?” I asked mischievous but joking with him.
He smiled and then insisted, “Look at the names, Jocelyn.”
I did take a closer look and then I couldn’t take my eyes off them, not only because of their significance, but because of the surnames. Ms. Veilleux was noted among them along with ten others, but it was two names in particular that made my lungs freeze for a few seconds. One was Louis Caldwell, Jameson’s relative I figured, and the other one I lingered on much longer. It was Isabella Weatherford…my mother’s name.
I drew in a breath, finally, and then absentmindedly reached out to touch it, instantly missing her, trying to reach across to her through the carving.
“
She was a student here…” I sighed. “I never…I never even considered that to be possible.”
“
So was my dad,” said Jameson and I knew he was referring to the name Louis, the one above my mother’s.
“
If these are in order, they went to school here close to the same time,” I pointed out.
Jameson nodded. “Or during the very same time.”
The comparison was striking. Jameson and I. His father and my mother. I wondered if they had a volatile relationship like the rest of our relatives had throughout history.
“
I…I’m sorry about your father,” he said with sincere empathy. “Do you know if he went to school here?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know much of anything. My mother never talks about my family.”
“
Ever?” That seemed to shock him but with the Caldwell’s being so close knit I understood why.
“
No, I didn’t have a clue about my family here in New Orleans until I met them a few weeks ago.”
“
Nothing at all?” he said but didn’t wait for an answer. He already knew what it would be. “What do you talk about with your mother? Wait…maybe I don’t want to know…”
“
Not girl stuff,” I alleviated his fears.
“
Oh…all right.”
I laughed with him for a second before explaining. “When she picked me up for the holidays, she mostly spent the time quizzing me.”
“
On what?” he asked, deeply intrigued.
“
Herbs, stones, Latin. Although I didn’t pay as much attention to the language part and now I wish I would have.”
He laughed to himself. “I know the feeling. Those seem like…if you don’t mind me saying…like odd things to talk about with your mother.”
“
I think she’s been preparing me for this world, our world, for a long time. She just never specifically mentioned it.” I shrugged. “But it’s what we do. We travel, she teaches, I learn.”
“
Travel?” He lifted his eyebrows curiously. “Where do you go?”
“
Everywhere. My mother introduced me to her friends in every major city. London, Rome, Amsterdam, Munich. Name it and I’ve probably been there.”
His forehead creased as he analyzed something he’d picked up on. “Hmm, that’s interesting…”
“
What is?” I asked trying to understand whatever it was I’d missed.
“
It’s probably just coincidence but those are the cities where our world has major provinces.”
That was stunning and for a moment I was speechless. Then, without much else to say, I replied, “Well…if there’s one thing that’s certain about my mother it’s that she’s mysterious.”
I looked up when he paused to find him openly evaluating me, a content smile hovering below the surface. “I heard your mother is breathtaking…You must have gotten her looks.”
Before I could even respond, he’d stood and walked to the canvas bag. From it, he pulled a blanket and pillows to lay them out against the back wall.
“
That’s…” I started and then contemplated whether I should finish my sentence.
“
Hmm?” he said over his shoulder as he finished setting up and then sat down with his back against the wall. “That’s…what?”
Still hesitant, I stated, “That’s not exactly the kind of description I’d expect about my mother coming from the Caldwells.”
His eyebrows rose. “We’re not as bad as you probably assume. Actually, we’re pretty fair when describing you Weatherfords.”
I believed him. Everything I’d seen so far from both families had involved childish behavior, but they’d always respected their adversaries nonetheless. There just wasn’t any trust between them.
“
I’d have to say the same for my family,” I said, moving to sit down beside him. Not so close that we touched but close enough that I felt the tension arise between us.
“
Is that right?” he replied stiffly, reacting to my presence so close. And then he relaxed a little. “What
do
they say about us?”
I described his family like Oscar had during lunch on the first day of school and when I was done his gaze drifted to the city landscape, contemplating, an amused expression lifting his lips.
“
I’ll have to tell them,” he said finally. “Maybe it’ll stop the haranguing I regularly get for choosing you as a partner during our Wednesday classes.”
“
Might take a little more than that,” I warned and we laughed together knowing the truth behind my statement.
“
Your family still doesn’t know, do they?”
I shook my head. “I figured those in our class aren’t the gossiping type.”
He snickered through his nose. “I have another theory.”
“
Which is?”
“
Sometimes it’s more frightening to be the messenger of bad news than it is to simply avoid delivering the message at all.”
“
Fear is a strong motivator,” I agreed.
“
And so is courage,” he stated before reaching for my hand. I felt his fingers gently touch mine in the dark, curling around mine, sending a current of pleasure through me.
“
Is this all right?” he asked tenderly.
“
Yes,” I breathed, still trying to control the emotions coursing through me.
“
I could tell it made you nervous to hold my hand in the beginning,” he confessed. “You’re getting better at it.”
I scoffed and then realized he was conveying that he wasn’t picking up as many erratic thoughts.
“
I’m taking that as a good sign. Should I?” he asked anxiously.
“
Yes,” I said meaning to soothe him. “Is that why you hesitated in kissing me on the edge of the water after we got back from the village?”
“
You’ve been wondering about that?”
“
Mmmhmm…”
He didn’t answer my question right away and I was certain he was evaluating how straightforward he should be. Then, he resolved his internal issue and confirmed, “I don’t want to move so fast that I scare you away. I figured you’ve been fed a steady diet of fear of us Caldwells so breaking down that barrier will take time. But I’m willing to wait. You’re worth it, Jocelyn.”
His honesty was staggering, catching me off guard. “Thank you,” I replied in a whisper, unable to coax my voice any higher.
He had stunned me, which didn’t happen often.
Before he could witness my reaction to him, I rapidly thought of something to say, to carry on the conversation so that I could overcome his affect on me. “There’s something else I’ve been curious to know. That scar over your lip. How did you get it?”
I felt a subconscious squeeze of his hand and wondered if I’d treaded into territory I shouldn’t have, and then he began to tell a story so riveting I couldn’t bring myself to stop encouraging it.
“
Well, the public version is that I was testing my channeling when I first figured out that I had it, around the time I was four, which is about a year earlier than most. I channeled Alison’s ability to levitate and sent a sharp object across the room where it nicked me.”
“
But that’s the official story, not the real one?” I asked, sensing there was that explanation too.
“
Right. The real one is not so politically correct.” He paused, seeming to prepare himself for his next statement. “I was almost abducted when I was born.”
I gasped, although probably not for the reason he assumed. While I did feel genuine concern for him, it was the fact that once again another similarity between us had crept up.
“
The kidnapping failed but I was left with the scar when my family fought back.”
I tightened my hold on his hand, an unexpected protectiveness creeping over me.
“
Did they ever…Was the kidnapper ever apprehended?”
“
Nah, got away,” he said clearly relieved. “Got away and never came back.”
I slowly nodded my head, taking in everything he’d said. “What are the odds that attempted kidnappings are made on newborns from the two most volatile feuding families in the same year, the same timeframe?”
He looked at me perplexed. “What are you saying? There was an attempted kidnapping on you, too?”
Very slowly, I nodded my head, allowing him time for that fact to sink in. I knew it had when he released his breath in a rush and then he was blinking to clear the notions of the truth running through his mind.
“
You don’t think…” he said before his voice trailed off.