Birthright (Residue Series #2) (22 page)

He had every reason to be. We were
bound by fate
to be together
…
just long enough for me to eventually kill him.

“Jocelyn,” he said, trying to take a step toward me. I
countered by sliding farther back.

I couldn’t seem to raise my voice above a whisper
.
“How long have you known…that you are The Nobilis?”

“Oh…” he replied casually. “Since birth.”

“Birth?” I asked, anger swelling in me. “And you never mentioned it?”

“It’s not something you go around telling people.”

“You could have told
me
.”

“I would have, eventually, when I saw the need.”

“How many people know you are The Nobilis?” I asked, trying to ignore the chill
creeping
up my spine.

“My family, Miss Celia, who was the one to enlighten us in the first place, and now you.”
My
apprehension
was
amplifying
his worry,
which in turn made him hesitant. “Why?”

Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia, if
they
even knew, hadn’t told him. The
observation
screamed through my head.

They haven’t told him I
am
destined to kill him.

No, there was no way he could know our fate. He
told me he was The Nobilis
way
too casually, too indifferently. And he would have disclosed it sooner, like when he
first
learned I was The Relicuum.

I wish
now that
when Miss Mabelle came into the study that night
,
I’d have asked for more details about The Relicuum’s fate.
But I
didn’t.
I hadn’t entirely believed it
then, not up until
last night.
And now,
the stark, cold reality of the position Jameson and I were in
was becoming
clear.

Jameson wasn’t safe around me.

“Tell me what’s going on, Jocelyn.” He took another step in my direction.

I retreated to the doorway, still facing him.

His disturbed expression made me want to run
to
him, wrap my arms around him, and tell him it would all be fine. But it wouldn’t be
,
and any return to him would only confuse the situation further. Instead, I
stood frozen, staring
back at him, my heart crushing
under
the pressure in my chest.

“We can’t be together,” I
muttered
;
part of me
was
still in denial
.

“We can’t…? What?”

“I never believed it, not until now,” I mumbled.

“Believe what?”
His frustration was growing
but
I needed to come to terms with what
had
to finally be said.

“That I am your enemy.”

He started across the room.

“Stop,” I commanded
, t
he
duress
in my voice
forcing
him
to
listen.

His face hardened
.
“You are not my enemy, Jocelyn.”

I swallowed hard
, digging
deep inside
me
for the courage
I needed to answer
him. Yet
,
even as I spoke the words, I felt
a pang of
regret stab
my heart
,
making it numb.
“I’ll show up for the midnight lessons
,
because that is what is needed to keep everyone safe
, but
that’s where it ends.”

“Where what ends?” he beseeched me.

“Our relationship,” I heard myself respond, my voice sounding hollow. “I can’t see you anymore, Jameson.”

My
feet were
suddenly
guiding me
through the house
,
and out the front door
. T
hey
barely touch
ed
the ground
as I rushed to leave
. I moved so fast I don’t
think
Theleo, who
was standing
at the Caldwell front gate,
even
caught sight of me. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyways. Ironically, I had become a greater threat than him.

This
was now
the second time
I’d run from the Caldwell house in tears, having just ended my relationship with Jameson
, but this
time
would be the last. My heart
would
never
be able to
survive another recurrence
.

When the rest of my family made it home, after surreptitiously sneaking
past
the Vires
who were
watching the Caldwell house, they begged me to tell them what happened
,
but I waved them away, having neither the energy nor the motivation to recount it.

Miss Mabelle’s ‘nice side’ emerged
, as
she poured herself in to Sunday dinner preparations,
busily
creating crawfish etouffee, oysters Louisiana, and sweet potato praline casserole with bananas foster for dessert. I didn’t eat a single bite.

Just before midnight, her natural demeanor returned as I heard her cane rapping on my bedroom door.
I wanted to tell her to go away, I wouldn’t be joining them, but the reminder of why I was doing it at all surfaced. To protect the innocents embroiled in my mess. So by the time I opened the door Miss Mabelle was already at the top of the stairs, not bothering to wait for me.

“Don’t ya go makin’ me late,” she warned. “Don’t want ta hear it from Miss Celia. Understand?”

I sighed
, closing
my bedroom door behind me. “I won’t make you late, Miss Mabelle. I can walk faster than you.” I didn’t bother pointing out the cane she used, figuring
it
would be rude. Although, I knew she’d
had given
me that treatment if our roles were reversed.

“Don’t ya go sassin’ me, ya hear?” she warned over her shoulder
,
after reaching the first floor.

“Yes, Miss Mabelle,” I replied, emotionless.

“Don’t think I won’t quit on the spot. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Miss Mabelle, you were the one who insisted on-”

We
reached
the door
at
that point where
she spun around and narrowed her eyes at me. “Now what did I just say ‘bout no sassin’ me?”

Apparently, my silence was just
the answer
she was looking for
,
because she turned around and hauled open the door.

I noticed
Theleo’s squad hadn’t left their positions
to do
their perimeter checks, even though it was just before midnight and well after the hour our house typically goes to sleep. When Miss Mabelle and I walked by them
,
I got the distinct impression they wouldn’t be leaving for their rounds any time soon. I wondered if Miss Mabelle knew they’d likely follow us
,
as they
did
every day since
their arrival.

Theleo was one of the two
standing
outside our house, so I tipped my head to him on my way
past
, a motion that was meant to taunt. As we eyed each other, he
had
the same subtle disapproval in his expression as usual
,
and I had the same arrogant glare in mine.

Miss Mabelle went a step further, making a comment as we passed by. “Neighbors are startin’ ta wonda’ ‘bout
ya
two. Heard from one of them this mornin’. They’s loiterers is what they said. Need ta be on their way is what they said.” She snorted
.
“N’ I couldn’t agree more.”

Theleo didn’t respond
,
and Miss Mabelle, having slowed her pace to make that statement,
regained
a steady stroll
out
to the street.

Miss Celia waited in the driver’s seat of a black Range Rover, engine running
.
Miss Mabelle slid into
the passenger seat
and motioned for me to
climb
in the back, which I did.

When the door closed Jameson’s scent – the faint muskiness of sea air – immediately surrounded me, teasing me.

“Is Jameson not coming?” I asked, noticing that he was absent.

Miss Mabelle swiveled her head around
, peering
over her shoulder at me, although she didn’t exactly answer my question. “There’ll be no hanky panky back there or lessons’ll start early,” she warned
. Her
threat made absolutely no sense to me. “Now, keep it down, hold on, and don’t complain.”

I stared back at her
,
curiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss-” Suddenly, my head snapped back
, as
my body
sank
into the seat’s curvature.

Miss Celia, I learned,
had a twitchy foot and
could drive like a professional racecar driver
.
Drifting around corners and stopping beneath thick trees with lots of foliage seemed to come naturally to her. Even more perplexing, she didn’t
appear
to be going anywhere
in particular
, instead
she drove
in looping circles through the Garden District.

About fifteen minutes
into
our trip, she asked, “We lost ‘em yet?”

Miss Mabelle, who’d been peering out the window at the sky above, replied, “Believe so,” and leaned back in her seat.

Knowing they were referring to Theleo and
the
other Vires, I muttered, “Probably got nauseous,” to which I heard someone chuckle from the rear of the car.

Jameson sat up
then
, flashing
a grin, and slid into the seat next to me. That action
,
and my proximity to Jameson
,
sent a reaction through me that felt
like
a knife being
jabbed
in my stomach.

I didn’t meet his eyes but felt his stare concentrat
ing
on me, evaluating
me
, wondering why I’d asked about him only to ignore him when he finally appeared.

A few minutes later, Jameson’s hand attempted to slide across the seat and curl around mine. In reaction, I snapped my arms up
, crossing
them over my chest
,
and turned to stare out the window. Guilt
was overwhelming
me
,
and I had to fight the urge to apologize
,
as sadness saturated every part of my body.

It took an incredibly long time, but eventually
Jameson’s head turned
away
from me,
and he started watching
the lights pass by on the interstate
.

Finally, Miss Celia slowed to a stop at the edge of the bayou where a platform with a long, wooden walkway connect
ed
to the shore
and
floated several feet out in the water. Given the distance
,
and the dull light of the half-moon
,
our destination was nearly undetectable.

Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia slipped from the vehicle and we followed,
circling around to the trunk
, f
rom
which
our housekeepers pulled out a metal pot, candles, and a few other unidentifiable items. Jameson and I tried to help unload
,
but we each received slaps on the hand for our efforts, warding us off. They enlisted my help only after all their supplies were lined on the ground. Miss Mabelle snapped at me
as she and Miss Celia headed for the platform empty-handed, “A little help?”