Birthright (Residue Series #2) (48 page)

Jameson noticed, his attention always being acutely focused o
n me, and stopped at the steps.

“You’re smiling. What’s on your mind?” Jameson asked, genuinely interested in what could make me happy after a night like
this
one.

“The sunrise.” I tilted my head toward the sky. “We made it.”

Jameson’s head turned to find the peach and orange streaks of a new day drawn out across the horizon.

He chuckled and said, “I hope Sartorius is watching it, too.”

I laughed with him
, starting
for the back door
,
but his hand caught mine. He moved to position himself in front of me and wrap his arms around my waist.

“You saved my life tonight,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmured.

“That’s twice.”

I knew where he was headed with this conversation
so
I
really wanted to pull away. There were two factors that stopped me
, though
. Jameson’s arms and my diminished will power.

“You didn’t take my life,” he pointed out. “You saved it, Jocelyn. Do you know what that means?”

“It means you’re alive…for now.”

He sighed in irritation. “Is this going to become a pattern? You save my life. I point it out. You ignore it.”

“Probably…
yes.”

“Will you at least consider the possibility that those who
fore
shadowed
our future might have gotten it wrong? It seems odd to me that two people so good for each other could end up with one killing the other.” When I didn’t answer, he persisted. “Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia said that only headlines were foretold. Anything could be possible in the details. The fine print is where everything changes.”

He made an excellent argument
,
and he could very well be correct.
One
aspect not included in
his
assessment remained, one I couldn’t ignore. As much as it hurt me to do it, I answered, “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I have a feeling this won’t be the last time you prove wrong the opinion about our fate.”

I opened my mouth to contest the use of ‘opinion
,
’ but he wouldn’t allow it.

“You will save my life again, Jocelyn,” he said
,
sincerely
,
as if there was no way to dispute it.
His
voice softened and my heart staggered
,
as he said, “And I will thank you again for it.”

Tears began to well in my eyes
.
I wanted to have his conviction. I wanted that security. I wanted to live a life with him blissfully unaware of our fate. 

When the tears finally spilled, he gently brushed them from my cheeks, the feel of his
touch
making me tremble.

“It’ll be all right. You’ll see. It will be all right,” he declared
, giving
me a soft smile.

The
tears came harder and he pulled me into his arms, comforting me with a warm, firm embrace until he no longer felt my sobs.
He
leaned back, just enough to see my swollen face and asked, “Ready?”

I wiped the last of the shine from my cheeks and nodded. A strong part of me wanted to delay the moment eternally. Eventually, though, I would need to pull away.

His arms dropped from my side
,
and I had to fight back the sudden feeling of vulnerability. He always made me feel safe, which didn’t seem fair to him.
I
was the actual threat.

Despite that, I must have looked feeble because his hand stayed at my back, guiding me up the stairs. The soft pressure
taunting me,
making me want to spin around and
press
my body back
into
his. Instead, I opened the back door and stepped inside the kitchen.

As we entered, the doorbell rang, chiming through the house.

“Who could that be?” muttered Aunt Lizzy, rising from her chair.

“No,” I told her. “I’ll get it.” It would allow more time for the redness to fade from my face.

“Thank you, dear.”

Estelle, however, was a bit more outspoken. “Probably another neighbor complaining about th
e Vires in front of our house.
Tell them to have their eyesight checked
‘
cause they’re
gone
.”

It
wasn’t a neighbor
, though
. It was Theleo
,
buckled over, a stab wound to his torso, clutching The Rope of The Sevens.

The silence that followed told everyone in the house something was wrong.

When no greeting or insolent diatribe toward a neighbor reached them, they were on their feet and at
the door
in seconds, with Jameson being the first one.

I was already ushering Theleo inside
,
despite the disgruntled resistance following me.

Amid the verbal hailstorm, I positioned him before the couch and he sank into it, drained of both vitality and blood. The red stream from his torso found its way to the fabric
, starting
a stain that would be a permanent reminder of this incident
for as long as
Aunt Lizzy
chose to keep
this particular piece of furniture
.

“Ah,” she moaned
,
in annoyance. “How am I going to get that out?”

“I’ll stop it,” I muttered
,
tiredly. “I’ll stop it.” It didn’t matter. The couch was already ruined.

Nolan, who could always be counted on for compassionate remarks when needed, shouted, “
Who
cares about the couch! Did you notice we have a Vire sitting on it?”

“Yes, I did, and don’t you talk to me that way,” Aunt Lizzy retorted, ending with a displeased scoff.

“Right,” he quickly muttered. “Sorry.”

Returning to the issue at hand, Charlotte asked, “You’re going to heal a Vire?” Her tone was partly disgusted and partly insulted.

“I have to say, despite this being your home, I would have to agree,” added Mrs. Caldwell.

I could understand their perspective, especially with regard to this particular
Vire.
He had not only been guarding us for months, he had assembled his forces to kill us tonight. But there was one extenuating circumstance that led me to
this course of action.
Something few people in the room knew of.

“He saved my life once,” I explained.

That assertion made several pairs of eyebrows raise
, and
it also made Charlotte shut up. It also caused Theleo’s head to lift
, searching for
my face.

“Relax,” I said, placing my hand on his
forehead
and gently settling him back. “You’re about to be repaid.”

Keeping my hand where it was, I uttered my healing incantation
and then dropped
in
to
a
kneeled position
to wait.

Theleo’s eyelids closed which said he was close to the end. A guard, having trained his entire life to be observant, diligent, and ready, wouldn’t close his eyes around his ‘assignments’ unless he didn’t believe he’d survive anyways.

There was no movement in the room for over a minute. I doubted anyone dared to even breathe. During that span, I wondered how many lives Theleo had taken and how upset his victims might be if they knew I was healing him from a mortal wound. This could have been their retribution
,
but I effectively ended that possibility.
Once
again, I
detested
my abilities and the yearning to
use
them.

“Jocelyn,” said Jameson
,
leaning down close to my ear. “It would be a good idea to move out of range of him in case he does survive.”

“No, I’m staying right here,” I replied
,
flatly. “I can heal myself.” Of course, that wasn’t entirely true, as I had just learned from Sartorius hours earlier. Regardless, the other reason was because I wanted a clear view of the man’s eyes while he explained his reason for coming.
This desire
outweighed
any
concern. Still, I did a quick pat down of Theleo’s body for any daggers.

“Uck,” mumbled someone behind me. I thought it was Estelle and, honestly, I felt the same way.

Jameson didn’t respond to my insistence of putting myself at risk
,
but he did stand directly next to me, ready for any offensive move from our enemy.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway sent six chimes through the house, Theleo’s eyelids fluttered. His chest, which had been still, began to expand,
seizing
its first breath in over a minute. After some struggle, his focus returned
, and he found
a room full of people staring back at him, none of
whom were
pleasant
looking
.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” he said
,
hoarsely.

“You bet you are,” declared Nolan, moving around the coffee table toward Theleo. “Now that you’re revived, I’m gonna kill you.”

Several hands stopped him
,
and I was thankful for the sensible people in the group. Theleo had come here for a reason
,
and I wanted to know what it was.

Theleo, who seemed to believe the threat may provoke others, pushed him
self to a more upright position…feebly.

“Thank you,” he said to me,
sincerely
appreciative.

“What are you doing here?” I replied.

“I am here for several reasons.”

“Start listing them,” said Vinnia, scowling with her arms crossed over her chest.

“One…” said Theleo
,
as he
held up
the rope
he’d brought with him.

Several of the pieces of dried skin that bound the cable of hair
were
torn, which told us it was damaged in what was
presumably a
brutal
struggle.

“I am returning this to its owner,” he said,
lowering
his head to clear his throat
.
“My apologies. Residual blood…”

His arm still held out
The Rope,
which felt to me
like
a peace offering. I wasn’t sure if I was agreeable to it, not after all that
just
happened. To ensure he didn’t think it was perceived that way, I wrenched it from his hand while demanding, “Where are your other Vires?”

“Not with me.”

“We can see that,” Jameson replied
,
angrily. “Where are they?”

“You are safe,” he said, getting to the point.

Several of those behind me
jeered, disbelieving.

“Right,” mumbled Alison.

“And two? What’s number two?” asked Vinnia, remaining in her defensive stance.

His answer stunned everyone.

“I am defecting.”

“That means he’s giving up his allegiance,” Dillon explained. But he’d been so attentive on iterating his definition that he was the last one to grasp the true meaning. “Wait…
what?”

“I have denounced my duty as a Vire.”

Jameson and I shared a glance, trying to determine if either one of us believed him. I didn’t
, and judging
from Jameson’s expression he
didn’t either.

The best way to weed out a liar is to ask questions and catch them in
their
lie. Jameson apparently knew
this
because
he took this approach.

“Is that why Sartorius stabbed you?”

“No.” Theleo tipped his head toward
the rope
I held in my hand. “That is the reason.”

“Did you tell him you were defecting?”

“I imagine he
figured it out when
I slit his throat.”

This made everyone momentarily pause.

“And did he survive?” Jameson continued his questioning.

“Yes.”