Birthright (Residue Series #2) (44 page)

Once my ensemble was complete, I took a quick look at myself in the mirror again and my breath caught.

I had transformed. My black hair spilled over my shoulders blending in with the inky black clothes I’d chosen to
help conceal me
in the night sky. My stance was audacious
,
with my legs straddled and my arms readied at my sides. But it was my eyes that stood out to me
,
because they reflected resolve. Despite the fact that we were very shortly going to be facing an enemy with enough influence and power
to
round up an entire city in one night
. Regardless
of the fact this enemy wanted me dead since before I was born, I radiated potency, strength, and readiness.

I thought
Jameson, who was still watching me, summed up my metamorphosis perfectly
.

“You look…” he hesitated while trying to find the right description
, grinning
mischievously. “Defiant.”

I released
a laugh through my nose
, recognizing
that
was exactly how I felt.

“
Sartorius would agree with you,” I said
, starting
for the door as Jameson
quietly
chuckled
in awe
and stepped up behind me.

Miss Mabelle, however, appeared in the doorway and intentionally blocked my path.

I suddenly felt more rebellious,
and
I was about to insist she move out of my way
,
when her free hand, the one not leaning on the top of her cane, swung out from her hip. “
Yu’ll
be needin’ this,” she implied
,
leaving no room to question her.

In her hand, resting between her meaty fingertips was a belt. Made of black leather, loops and pouches hung at various spots around it while the buckle was sturdy platinum with a
quartz
crystal embedded inside it.

Our eyes met as I took it.

“Thank you,” I said
,
genuinely appreciative.

She nodded
stepping
through the door long enough to take the rope from Jameson and slip it into a pouch hanging from my right hip.

“Now,” stated Miss Mabelle, “y
er
ready.”

“What’s in the other pouches?” I asked.

“Whatever ya decide on puttin’ in them,” she replied
,
hinting that this wasn’t a belt she was lending. It was mine to keep. It was the first object she
ever
gave to me
personally
,
rather than hiding it until it was found and somehow that made the belt more important.

We left the house seconds later, exiting through the back door
, and began our
hunt for a needle in a haystack.

The bayou was hundreds of square miles and thick with brush. Finding the encampment was not going to be easy. Jameson, with his logic
always engaged, suggested we stay in the area closest to New Orleans
,
because
the Vires without levitation abilities would need to be in proximity in order to perform their duties. With that in mind, I kept us soaring over the edge of the bayou
. The
trees were less dense
, which matched
the topography of where Ms. Veilleux’s coven performed their rituals. If we could find that spot then the encampment would be directly across the river.

I kept us moving as fast as possible without risking the chance we’d miss it. Still, at some point, Jameson waved me to a halt
,
and I suspended
us
over a
cluster
of decaying cypress trees.

“We need to use the darkness to our benefit,” he stated. “Without electricity, they’ll be using fire to light the encampment.”

Suddenly, I
realized my error
.
“We need to go higher.”

“Exactly,” replied Jameson.

“Why higher?” asked Miss Mabelle, the end of her sentence increasing in pitch as I unexpectedly shot us upward.

“Because,” I shouted over my shoulder. “We’ll be able to distinguish the encampment lights
better from farther away.”

The benefit to the Vires having set their encampment so far from civilization was that they would stand out in the swath of darkness. This was also their weakness
, and
we were about to use
it
against them.
As
we soared higher, I hoped it wasn’t the
ir
only
weakness.

I brought us to a stop just below the flight level of traveling aircraft. The air was denser up here so we only had a few seconds to survey the world below.

To our left was the expansive city of New Orleans. Directly in front of us was the Gulf Coast. To our right was nearly absolute darkness stretching for miles. The bayou is larger than I imagined, I realized, and my anticipation dissolved.

Then, a
section of land in front of us reflected a faint glow with flecks of light peeking from beneath the trees which meant fire was being used. It was a large area, though.

“No,” declared Jameson, following my line of sight. “That’s the village.”

“Right,” I muttered. The Vires
’
primary prison in this province.

“There,” he said
,
suddenly, pointing down and to our right.

I could see why I’d overlooked it the first time. While brighter than the village, it was much smaller, closer to the size of a pencil dot.

Immediately, I dropped us toward it, the details of the encampment becoming clearer the closer we came.

Beside the river where we’d first seen it, a clearing had been made, so fresh that the tree stumps continued to bleed sap. The area held several walled, open-roofed structures which seemed to be designed to corral. The roof
was constructed of
slats – supposedly to keep those with levitation abilities inside –
but it
allowed us to examine what they held. Their contents were both brazen and disturbing.

They held people. Lots of them.

Judging from the blackened scars along a few of the walls, attempts had been made to catch their wood cells on fire. Apparently, the Vires had brought an end to them, and very likely punished the culprits to prevent them or anyone else from trying again. Those, I figured, were the ones lying down.

Only one cell seemed out of the norm. It was set off to the side, nearest the river, and there were fewer people inside.

Just as I settled us to the ground behind a small mound along the water’s edge
,
I caught sight of Estelle’s bright purple shirt, which, in my excitement, caused me to drop my passengers. We landed with a thud against the thick muddy embankment, grunting from the force
.

“Oops,” I whispered
,
as we picked ourselves up.

“Oops?” commented Miss Mabelle
but didn’t finish her thought
.
She probably
realized
this wasn’t the time and place for a reprimand
,
and that was just fine with me.

While our housekeepers wiped the sludge from their faces and arms, they gave me a firm glare but didn’t retort. They knew, being this close to the encampment, the less conversation the better. Without having to say it, we all knew that any noise should strictly be kept to
a bare necessity.

We crouched or squatted in
to
a huddle beneath the mound’s crest
,
out of sight, our feet almost entirely disappearing in the mud while we
quietly
discussed our options.

“They’re in their own cell,” I said.

Jameson nodded, having seen them, too.

“They aren’t sequestering them,” he said, tensely, peering over his shoulder to ensure we couldn’t be seen.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What does that mean?”

“They weren’t building an encampment. They were building holding cells. That’s why the Vires didn’t only come after our families. They came after the entire city.”

“But why?”

“Bait,” Jameson said
,
plainly. Only the
twitch
of his lip told me
that
he was feeling
the same anger as I did.

“Because they knew we’d follow them here,” I concluded
,
ominously.

“Right,” Jameson said. “The Sevens haven’t been able to find a justifiable cause to detain us so they’re trying to get rid of us permanently without any witnesses left to contest their version of the story. Now that our families and neighbors are here, the Vires will want to erase any possibility of anyone getting out.” He paused
, delivering
a terrifying conclusion, one I’d already come to. “They’re not expecting their prisoners to leave here alive.”

My reaction came on quickly
,
and so intense I couldn’t have stopped it if I
tried. I became enraged.

“The guards,” I hissed. “We need to incapacitate them.”

He stared back at me, confused. “Did you see any?”

That question made me hesitate. Thinking back, I realized that I hadn’t.

“Why wouldn’t they have any guards watching their prisoners?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Miss Mabelle, who was squatting beside Miss Celia so her dress was piled in the mud below her knees, had been watching our exchange until now. “Sounds ta me like it a trap.”

“Could be,” Jameson deliberated. “We won’t know until…” He spun around
, creeping
up the mound to peer over
it
. A second later, I joined him
,
and we assessed the situation.

“No one’s walking,” he said, leading up to something.

“They aren’t talking, either,” I noted.

Having recently become familiar with both of these experiences, Jameson and I could recognize the signs
,
and I immediately sympathized with them.

Being suddenly impaired by blindness causes you to remain still or risk injuring yourself. Worse, sounds intensify, leaving you jumpy at the slightest movement. And being unable to speak, means you can’t call out for help. It was no wonder this was one of the Vires
’
most preferred casts. It completely shut the victim off from the outside world
,
while still ensuring they were able to abide commands.

I now understood why there weren’t any guards at the encampment. They didn’t need them once their cast took hold against the prisoners.

“I think it’s safe,” I said, preparing to cross over the mound.

“No, Jocelyn.” Jameson’s hand came down on my arm. It was gentle but firm. “I’m sorry.”

Knowing he would never support a decision that would allow me to enter any type of threat, I conceded. “You’re right.”

“Thank you,” he said
,
proudly
,
and slipped over the mound.

I gave him a
head start of a
few seconds and then followed him, preparing for a Vire ambush
,
as well as Jameson’s highly-probable lecture for endangering myself.

Jameson had been correct. I saw no Vires milling around or standing guard. In fact, the only movement I saw was Jameson
,
as he reached our families’ private holding cell.

Sneaking closer, though
,
something struck me as odd. A murmuring rose from the crowd, their attempts to speak intermingling until they created a quiet hum. It took me a second to understand what it was they were doing.
When
the answer came to me
,
my heart hurt for them. They were humming casts, using the only tool they had against their captors.

As Jameson neared them, our families heard
him
and turned their heads in his direction, readying themselves against an attack by a Vire. As they
prepared,
the anger that I’d been able to stifle since arriving flared
as I saw
every one of their eyes had turned cloudy and rolled upward.

“Oscar,” Jameson whispered
, arriving
at the cell’s bars
,
because he was the closest.

Oscar blinked back surprise and stumbled toward Jameson’s voice. At the bars, they clasped hands and I knew they were beginning to channel. Having reached Jameson, and not wanting to be left out of the loop, I grasped Jameson’s hand. He turned
,
but not in retaliation,
because
a Vire’s surprise attack wouldn’t involve holding his hand. His eyes widened in frustration at me
,
but he didn’t have a chance to speak because Oscar was already channeling.