Savior (18 page)

I sent a playful glare over my shoulder. “Not to worry. It’s reserved for The Sevens and Jameson Caldwell…
exclusively
.”

Catching onto the last part, Jameson burst into laughter. “Now lumping me in with that notorious group, are you, sweetheart?” he retorted, chuckling under this breath.

Eli, who must have been gifted with perceiving subtle hints, caught on and muttered, “You’ve united in more ways than one, I see.”

Recognizing his statement was meant rhetorically, Jameson and I remained quiet, allowing Eli and his men to think what they would.

Jameson and I had lived so long without being able to openly admit our feelings for each other that our banter seemed almost surreal. I enjoyed our new lack of restrictions so much that I found myself smiling.

Once outside, we detected lights slowly coming on and the smell of bacon and coffee beginning to drift down the street.

“Should we risk it?” asked one of Eli’s men, referring to the possibility of being caught for levitating.

Another one of the men shrugged. “What kind of punishment could they possibly hand to us now?”

Theleo smiled, an uncommon expression for him, and replied, “They’ll have to catch us first.” To prove that would be difficult, he shot us into the air so fast our heads whipped back from the speed.

Theleo remained in front with the defectors, either out of concern for their safety or for introduction purposes; while my mother positioned herself behind them, placing her body between me and the defectors and watching them warily. She remained guarded around them - and rightfully so - but I sensed the men were relishing their newly found freedom; and it made them less intimidating.

They were finally experiencing something that the rest of us, to some measure, had been living with for most of our lives: independence from the prying eyes and brainwashed culture of The Sevens.

Most Vires had been infants when they were seized from their homes and were raised under the umbrella of volatile and submissive customs. I couldn’t blame them for seeking a way out…or for taking it once it was found.

These thoughts ran through my mind as Jameson was being levitated.

He was raised to meet me just as the city’s crisscrossed streets caught my eye; and I was reminded that beneath one of those roofs, stacked in the hallway of a disheveled house, lay a pile of dead Vires.

“What about the bodies?” I asked. "Shouldn't we clean them up?”

“When they don’t return, the ministry will send a crew to ensure any evidence of our world isn’t left lying around.”

I made a disgusted sound and sarcastically commented, “Well, that’s a terrific job….”

He hesitated and then gave me an awkward look. “No one told you what your Uncle Lester did at the ministry, did they?”

“Aunt Lizzy said he looked after the Vires,” I recalled tentatively, watching as his handsome face melted into a frown.

“And he did,” replied Jameson, struggling with his words.

“What?” I asked, no longer capable of holding back. “What don’t I know?”

Jameson winced slightly and explained, “He led the department that cleaned up the Vires’ kills.”

I drew in a sharp breath. Minutes passed with only the sound of muted voices ahead of us and the flap of our cloaks to fill our ears. I was too dazed to speak, too intent on piecing it all together.

“That’s why you chose Uncle Lester to train the recruits. That’s what you meant about him knowing what the Vires are capable of. He would…” I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “He would definitely know what they are capable of in that position.”

Jameson nodded slowly, allowing it to sink in.

Then something else occurred to me. “And that’s why he doesn’t say much,” I added sadly, more to myself than to Jameson.

I reflected back to the slaughtering of innocents in each of the penal colonies and of the bodies we’d just left behind. Though I had limited experience with that kind of destruction, I knew now that Uncle Lester had to endure it daily.

“Jameson,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as my emotions consumed me. “I can’t imagine anyone more perfect than you for the role of leading us against The Sevens.”

“Oh,” he laughed, more to himself than to me. “I can think of a few.”

“No, none of them would be equal to you.”

“You’re biased,” he reminded me modestly, with a wink.

To prove my case, I pointed out, “You assessed our talents, our abilities from the night we began hiding in the village. I suspect even before that, actually.”

He didn’t respond, but his reserved smile told me enough.

“You had this all planned out. The collection of the prisoners, removing them from harm….”

“The Vires attacks sped that up,” he stated, inadvertently giving me the answer I was waiting on.

“I knew it,” I breathed, once again in awe of him. “And the choosing of roles for our families….You knew which ones would be happiest, and most equipped, to take them on.”

“That’s not too difficult. They’re open books.”

Amazed, I laughed at him. “Is there any time you don’t see several steps ahead?”

“Yes,” he remarked, hesitating as his expression turned troubled. “When it comes to The Sevens.” That was understandable. “And when it comes to you.”

“Me?” I shouted loud enough for my mother to look back, but she quickly returned to scrutinizing the defectors.

“Yes,” Jameson said, grinning at my reaction. “You.”

“There’s nothing out of the ordinary about me. I’m not hard to figure out.”

“Oh no?” he said, amused by my assertion. “Should we start with you being The Relicuum? Or should we start with you, of all people, growing up completely
unaware
of our world? Or, how about, you being a Weatherford? Better yet, how about you being the one I fell for
despite
being a Weatherford?”

His reminder sent a surge of heat through my body and I had to force down the smile that rushed to my lips.

“It’s ironic that the person I fell in love with is so obtuse.”

Offended, my mouth fell open, even as I saw his teasing grin. He was so strikingly handsome I didn’t bother looking away immediately, even when his smile weakened.

“No, Jocelyn…,” he sighed. “If I knew you well enough, you would never have made it to the ministry.”

I stiffened at that memory and the pain it caused him.

“But that’s what makes you so intriguing.”

“I’m intriguing?” I whispered, reveling in his assessment of me. He dipped his head toward me, giving me a look that said I should already have known it. “Intriguing, beguiling, frustrating….”

I tilted my nose upward. “I’ll take those as compliments.”

“You should,” he replied, sincerely.

New Orleans came into view then, and because it was still night here, the lights from the city sparkled like a cluster of diamonds bordered by a swath of black velvet. Within that velvety stretch of darkness was a nearly imperceptible hint of light. The village. We reached it seconds later.

“Theleo’s improving his accuracy,” commented Jameson, tipping his head toward my mother who was landing on her dock, while we landed on Jameson’s.

Theleo and the defectors hovered overhead briefly, before rising above the trees and soaring toward the village border.

Jameson slipped his hand gently into mine and guided me toward the door. Our intentions were obvious, and from the moment my head landed on Jameson's warm, comforting chest, I slept soundly, better than any night since we’d arrived. At least that was the case until the shouting woke me.

“Enough,” bellowed Jameson, his standard response when someone was getting antagonistic. Even in my groggy state, I deduced that hostility was arising in the village.

Sitting up, I realized how rare this was. The camaraderie in the village was strong. Arguments were rare, much less ones that caused anyone to raise their voices to the level of waking me.

Looking out the window, across the waterway, I saw defectors standing in their Vire uniforms while Jameson and Theleo were attempting to head off an angry mob now inching their way forward. Unfortunately, it looked like this squabble had the potential to be far more volatile.

I rushed to slip on my cloak and open the door, which Theleo happened to notice. I wasn’t sure if I could be of any help, but Theleo seemed to think so, as he lifted me over the water and placed me next to Jameson, forcing some Dissenters back a few feet. They appeared surprised as I landed and then, oddly, culpable.

Jameson was busy trying to quell their anger, so I stood by quietly. It was nerve-racking watching him work, and yet, I marveled at his remarkable ability to control the crowd.

“Your concerns are valid,” he was saying. This appeased them, causing a few to ardently nod their heads. “Until you realize a key point.”

“Which is?” demanded a woman in an apron. Judging by the dough clinging to it, she’d been baking when the commotion began. It hadn’t dried yet, confirming the argument had broken out recently.

The crowd was steadily growing and the docks surrounding us were beginning to fill up.

Jameson began to answer, but was interrupted.

“They don’t belong here!” a man cried out. While the rage he felt may have been masked by his bearded face, his tone easily gave him way. “Why are you protecting them?” demanded another woman, fervently shrugging to prove her point. “They’ve tried to kill you and your girlfriend…The Relicuum!”

I was stunned. I’d forgotten they knew about The Sevens' attempt at the ministry to publicly execute us.

“How do you know they’re not infiltrators?” demanded a tall, thin man, his family stone, a pearl, indicative of balanced emotions; a trait he clearly wasn’t tapping into at the moment.

“Because,” said Jameson, weary of this argument, “that would be pointless. As I tried to explain earlier, they have the authority to invade us at any time. They’ve already proven that. Think about it. If these men, who have denounced their allegiance to the Vires by removing the moldavite stone from their uniform, chose to overtake us, they already would have.”

Silence followed, everyone in the crowd seeming to come to the same conclusion. An elderly man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls, with a pipe bobbing between his lips as he spoke, summed up their unanimous realization.

“Our Officer has a point.”

With emotions somewhat under control now, Jameson went on. “They are residing on the outskirts of the village. Their presence
inside
comes with good reason. They have news about The Sevens.” The fact Jameson knew this made me believe they had mentioned this to him before the mob gathered.

In a clear display of fickleness, a man shouted out, “Let’s have it!”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“We got a right to know, too!”

Reassuring them, Jameson gestured for them to quiet down. “We all have a right to hear the information. The men will explain it, here, on this dock, at dusk. Spread the word to the rest of the village,” Jameson instructed.

The crowd sent heated glares at the defectors as they began to reluctantly disperse. The defectors stood firm until everyone had cleared the dock.

“Thank you,” Eli said, with obvious gratitude.

“It’s possible they’ll be incited by your news, so will you need security tonight?”

Eli took time to evaluate the crowd now moving in a wide berth around the dock where they stood before remarking, “We have the ability to defend ourselves here,” he said, reminding us that even as defectors they remained immune to the village’s cast. “But we won’t. Trust begets trust.”

Jameson nodded his understanding. “We appreciate it.”

“Why dusk?” Oscar called out unexpectedly.

We followed his voice and noticed our families gathered on the dock behind us, ready to help if it had been needed.

“Because if there’s any resistance, the dark will help contain it.”

He seemed to be impressed by Jameson’s answer, but didn’t bother mentioning it because another remark took precedence.

“What exactly is it you plan to tell us all tonight?” asked Mr. Caldwell, which was a legitimate question, certainly lingering on everyone’s mind.

“I’ll be telling you just how much danger we’re all in.”

“Something to look forward to all day,” I muttered, and Nolan snickered…but he was the only one.

No one seemed particularly at ease about the news; the only exception being my mother. Having forewarned us of what had happened this morning, she had every right to look smug. Instead, she was leaning against the shack, arms crossed, wearing a frown. She made a suggestion before leaving that reminded us what she’d said earlier.

“Might want to change the bees out of their uniforms. Don’t want to upset the nest again.”

After she was out of earshot, Jameson sighed, “She has a point. Estelle, you’re our resident fashion expert. Think you could get some clothes together for these men?”

To their credit, they didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that she was wearing a billowing purple shirt with green-dyed jean shorts and multi-colored, flowered sandals. She scrutinized them for a moment before agreeing, “I’ll have the clothes here in an hour.”

“Resourceful,” Jameson remarked, leaving her incredibly flattered.

The remainder of the day was spent in quiet solitude, many going about their business in an uncommonly silent manner. Even the saxophonist departed from his normal routine of playing as the boats left and returned with their daily catches, instead abandoning his instrument and stowing it away.

At dusk, the defectors assembled on the very same dock they’d almost been attacked on earlier that morning, wearing black cloaks hastily sewn by Estelle and Aunt Lizzy. Looking at a sea of faces, none of which seemed enthusiastic, Eli stood in front as boats clogged the waterway, docks were crowded to the edges, and trees were bowed with the weight of cramming bodies.

Eli looked diminutive, vulnerable in front of the crowd, and I had a strong feeling that was a first for a Vire, defector or not. He stood like a statue, arms stiffly at his sides, allowing his voice to carry the weight of his words.