Savior (8 page)

I tied up Isadora’s boat and hurried for the door. Opening it, I found Jameson standing in the middle of a packed room, attempting to calm everyone's fears. Soiled and exhausted faces glared back at him.

“They were coming for you, not us, you,” said a man with arms twice the size of Jameson’s. “And her…”

I looked up to find the man’s finger pointed in my direction.

“You need to leave, Jameson,” said a matronly woman, standing to prove her doggedness. “Officer or not…Nobilis or not…”

I saw Jameson cringe at her remark. Apparently, the news of his true identity
had
spread from New Orleans and reached the village.

The woman went on. “Relicuum or not,” she stated, tipping her head at me. “After this…after tonight, it’s clear you aren’t able to help us. Not yet. You need to leave us be.” I could see the pain in her eyes, the immutable guilt for not believing in the two people legends had slated as their saviors. And, despite her attempt to oust us, I felt empathy for her.

“Leave at first light,” called someone else from the back corner.

“No, now!” said another.

Suddenly, the room came alive with chaos, shouts overlapping each other, people springing to their feet.

I hadn’t become aware of them yet, but my family and the Caldwells were also in the room. They immediately stepped forward in unity to defend Jameson should he need it.

Jameson, who was struggling to be heard over the roar, bellowed across the room. “BY LEAVING WE ENDANGER
YOU
!”

His announcement silenced some, though not all.

“That’s a lie!” a fair-skinned man in the back yelled, even though the noise level in the room had lowered considerably.

“Jameson does not lie!”

I marched farther into the room before realizing I had spoken those words out loud. Heads turned and I found myself the center of attention. In staunch defense of Jameson, I stared them down, one by one, as the next words left my lips, daring them to disagree.

“Has anyone ever known Jameson to lie?” I asked, immediately demanding an answer, my voice laced with fury. “Anyone? No? Then let him speak. Don’t lie to convince others to believe you," I directed my gaze at the man who had made that same judgment about Jameson. “Let him speak." I didn’t bother moving from the center of the room when I finished, remaining in place as a show of confidence. When I nodded for Jameson to continue, one side of his mouth was turned up in a proud grin, although it straightened out when he began speaking.

“By leaving, we endanger you,” he repeated, evidently trying to drive home his message and ensure no one had forgotten his warning. “If you’re concerned about what will happen if they return and we are here, consider what happens if we are not. Theleo will not be available to lift you to safety. Jocelyn will not be able to heal you. And, don’t fool yourselves, they can return for any reason, at any time. You are at their whim, and being in that position leaves you open, vulnerable.”

Gradually, the bleak expressions around the room began to falter. I saw angry faces give way to compliance after contemplating his words. Jameson was getting through to them by merely stating the truth.

“None of us are safe. We never will be. We will live our lives in fear that the Vires will return, now and until the moment of our death. And they will return…,” he stated bluntly, “…for one reason or another. And we will remain defenseless to whatever destruction they want to inflict on us.”

He paused, surveying the now hushed room. I couldn't quite figure out what he was thinking until he started speaking again. The courage he exuded came through in his speech, causing goose bumps to rise on my arms and a feeling of rebellion in everyone else.

“What we haven’t come to terms with yet is…this is
our
world.
We
have been born with special powers, and
we
have every right to use them.
We
have every right to live without fear of false justice…without fear of corrupt governance…without the worry that we will end up
here
, imprisoned because we hold information that The Sevens don’t want released.”

Heads began to nod. Jaws clamped shut. Fists opened and closed. Gradually, their anger redirected, landing on the ones who had put them here in the first place.

The fear that oppressed them for so long, outweighing all other matters in life, began to disintegrate, making way for a new idea on life…one shaped by their desires and fueled by the fulfillment of their dreams. Nervous smiles flashed across the faces in front of us; chests expanded and chins rose up, proudly. Having their fears removed allowed another feeling to pour in, one set in place by Jameson.

He looked in my direction while continuing to address the room, but only after he began to voice his thoughts did I understand his gesture.

“Jocelyn told me tonight that she is tired of running. She’s ready…ready to fight for her life, her freedom, for her absolute rights that have been taken away.” Shouts of support rose up through the small shack and he returned his gaze to them, steadfast in fearless defiance. “And so am I. But we can’t do it alone. We need you. The time is
now
. It’s time we stopped living by their rules. It’s time we stop living in a world they feel they have the authority to control. It’s time we built our own world!”

Their shouts turned to a loud proclamation of their support of Jameson’s plan. In direct conflict with their motions a moment ago, they now nodded in consensus at those standing nearest them. Slowly, the room grew louder, more encouraging, more chaotic so that we didn't notice the man sprinting across the dock until he burst through the door, and his small, lanky body came to a wobbly stop across the threshold.

He was perspiring, clearly winded and terrified. Drawing in a wheezing breath, he made an announcement that caused everyone in the room to come to a halt.

“Another prison has been destroyed!”

5  RESPECT

“Upstate New York. Fifty dead…so far.” The message tumbled from the man’s thin lips as we stared back in denial.

It was Jameson who stepped forward. “And who are you?”

I was shocked by this question, because I thought he was from our village.

“Tavish Malik,” he replied in frustration, repositioning his lopsided turban. “They need help. Now!"

“And how do you know this, Tavish?” Jameson kept his voice steady as he interrogated the man, but I could see in his eyes that he was worried.

“I…I’m their Officer.”

Jameson blinked, fighting back his surprise, a movement anyone who wasn’t paying close attention would have missed. I knew what was going through his mind. Tavish Malik had just absorbed the bullet that Jameson had dodged.

“Jocelyn?” said Jameson, his head snapping toward me.

“Yes,” I replied. Fully aware of his insinuation, I nodded firmly. “I think I can handle it.”

Tavish began assessing me curiously. “You’re the…the…”

“Yes,” I declared, abruptly cutting him off. There was no time for stuttering. “I am The Relicuum.”

“The Relicuum…,” he finished his thought without realizing I’d already confirmed it. “Can you heal yet?” His tone was almost pleading, desperate.

“Lead me to them.”

His eyes widened, although apparently not wide enough for his peripheral vision to capture my mother shoving through the crowd.

“No, I absolutely forbid it.” She made her way to the center of the room, continuing her protest. “Being in hiding restricts access to my sources in the ministry. Without their input, you would be completely unprotected. I cannot agree to this.”

No one in the room moved; her tone being too rigid to invite a disagreement. But then, I was her daughter.

“You have no say in this,” I told her, breaking the news as gently as I could while still maintaining the resolve in my tone.

Her eyebrows rose at my brazenness. “I did not impose strict security protocols or assemble an entire team of overseers to ensure your protection, just to allow you to place yourself in harm's way now.”

I started to defy her, but she wouldn't allow it.

“I did not escort you every holiday through every province so you could give up your life before the war has even begun. I did not….” She stopped, forcefully sighing before summing up her worries. “You don’t know the jeopardy you are putting yourself in. The world is relying on your survival.”

Her warning rang in my ears, as it certainly must have been ringing in Jameson’s. Then, she delivered a far more impactful message.

“And I’m not just talking about the witch world.”

Jameson glanced toward the door where Tavish waited, but decided my mother’s statement was important enough to delay him. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he ventured.

“You don’t think The Sevens would limit themselves to just our world, do you? They want both, they want all of it.”

Every one of us was taken aback. Brushing the hair from her forehead, she allowed us time to understand. I could tell this was a motion that meant she was desperate.

When no one spoke, she emphasized her point by stating, “Our world was just their training ground….”

It seemed like everything in the room went still. I couldn't even decipher if anyone was breathing. We were, instead, silently coming to terms with the reality of what my mother was saying, of what The Sevens had been doing all along:

Preparing to take control over everyone, over everything.

My mother didn’t stop there, though. She informed us of the full scope of their plan, drilling in the fear she'd already planted in us. “The Sevens aren’t like us. They don’t have the kind of power we do. Their abilities are different. So when they witnessed what we were capable of, they saw an opportunity. They created scenarios, situations in which our world became threatened…the European Witch Hunts being just one of them. Then they emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, and made us believe they put an end to the danger, essentially protecting us, when they were the instigators all along. However, that didn’t matter. The damage was done. They gained the influence they needed, and when they felt it was being threatened, they devised other scenarios to remind us that they are our protectors.”

“Like the Salem Witch Trials…?” asked Spencer, the most well-read among us.

“Exactly. But that wasn’t the end of their efforts to manipulate us. Along the way, they created structure in our world, a hierarchy, convincing us it was for our own evolution, our own good. But the truth is loose structure leads to lack of control. They developed our world to enhance their authority over us,
and we let them
.

“As they did this, progressively, over centuries, they harnessed our power, learned to use it; and they developed a highly-lethal military. They did this with a single purpose in mind…complete and absolute domination.”

Finally, I came to terms with why my mother was so stern with me, with everyone, in fact. She had lived in a reality far different from us; she lived with the truth.

Having survived alongside The Sevens for so long, that fear now consumed her. More than anyone, she was aware of what they are capable of and what motivates them, what drives them. And now she had shared it with us.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what she witnessed in their presence. Now her child was leaving and entering the battle zone where our enemies still lingered, and she was frantic to prevent it.

While stepping up to her, I placed my hands on her arms and gazing at her. Then I explained the details that she hadn’t yet taken into account. “You’ve done all you can to prepare me for this moment. This is it; the war you mentioned is already started. It’s here. We’ve been at war, we just didn’t know it. And I am now the fighter you taught me to be…but I’d much rather be fighting the Vires and not you. You’ve done enough. It’s my turn. Let me fight now, the best way I know how."

I'd never known my mother to back down to anyone or anything…she doesn't give up easily. Because of it, she was unwilling to respond.

“You knew this would happen at some point. You have to let me go.”

Time passed and she still wasn't saying anything.  

“Isabella,” said Jameson, using my mother’s first name to convince her that what he would say next was genuine. “I’ll keep her safe. I’ll give my life if I need to.”

My mother pursed her lips, trying to contain the emotion surging through her. It took an unconscionable amount of time before she eventually eked out a reply. It wasn’t one I expected, but it was indisputably in my mother’s style. “Just keep him away from her,” she rotated her head toward Theleo with unmistakable abhorrence.

Even though everyone in the room already knew Jameson was my savior, he reassured her, “I will.”

He turned to Uncle Lester, his work here not yet finished.

“You were employed with Vires at the ministry, weren’t you?”

Aunt Lizzy, who took every opportunity to speak even if the question wasn’t directed at her, answered for him. “He was a concierge, dear, looked after the needs of the Vires.”

“So that would make you privy to the way the Vires trained together, what they were capable of?”

Again, Aunt Lizzy answered on his behalf. “Yes, dear.”

“Good,” said Jameson, contemplating. “Would you be able to train the rest of us on counter-techniques?”

Once again, Aunt Lizzy’s mouth opened, ready to reply, but Jameson stopped her. “With all due respect, Lizzy, this is something Lester will need to commit to on his own.”

“Right, of course,” she conceded, as she settled back against the wall and clasped her hands primly in front of her.

When I heard Lester speak for the first time, it startled me. There was a depth in his voice defined by his reflective temperament, while carrying a sternness that seemed driven by his very core. “Yes.” He would be perfect in command while preparing us for The Sevens. Given his size and the timbre of his voice, no one would have the courage to disagree with him.

“Oscar, Burke, and Nolan, will you start collecting those interested in learning to fight?”