Prophecy (Residue Series #4) (29 page)

Everything seemed to be going well, moving along, until Isabella arrived. She was breathless, and I’d never seen her break a sweat before. She landed in the only open spot, between the two current competitors. Her velocity was enough to throw both competitors backwards and off their feet and to leave a gaping crack in the dock’s boards.

“Jameson,” she demanded, striding directly for me. “We have an issue.”

She swung past me and into my parents’ shack with barely a glance at the rest of those around her. Jocelyn and I were the next two in the door with our families following. The only one in the room not a Weatherford or a Caldwell was Kalisha. She had a unique ability to find herself in a meeting without attracting too much attention. I imagined this trait was from her old Vire days. There was visible upset from everyone present, except her, when Isabella made her announcement.

“Your housekeepers have been taken. They will be hung at dusk.” She said this in her typical no-nonsense manner, but the perspiration on her forehead told of a different reaction underneath.

“How did they get to them?” Alison asked. Being my sister, I was surprised she hadn’t figured it out.

“Lacinda,” I grumbled before anyone else had the chance.

It appeared the woman wasn’t regarding the threat I’d made against her life if she intervened again.

Alison nodded. “Because she’s the Surveyor, she would be the one to bring her in.”

“It’s designed to weed you out,” Spencer said from the corner, his voice low and troubled. He was uneasy about the kidnapping, and had every right to be.

It was common enough to take someone from our world, or the other world ignorant to our ways, but voodoos had never been touched. There was a mutual respect between witches and those who practice voodoo. We come to them, ask for help, and then we leave, quietly and without disruption. Other than that, their culture remained separate from ours.

But then…The Sevens weren’t either one. This made them immune, or so they thought.

“Lester,” I said, turning to him. He read my face and knew what I was thinking.

In his deep brogue, he replied, “They’re as ready as they’re gonna be.”

“Then let’s assemble them. We’re going to need all the strength we’ve got.”

“What are you planning?” Jocelyn asked.

I was so consumed with determination I almost channeled my answer to her, but the rest of the room needed to hear it, they needed to understand what they were getting themselves in.

“Full, frontward attack.”

Aidan let out a whoop from the door, hollered the message to the rest of the crowd, and cheers erupted.

I was relieved they felt so emboldened. Maybe they were more ready than I gave them credit for.

I, on the other hand, had seen the Vires converging. We were heading into battle against a force larger than we wanted, without preparation, without a strategy, and without any time to execute one if we had it. And that, I knew, was exactly what The Sevens were expecting.

It was early morning in New Orleans, which made it just about dusk when we arrived in Italy. Once during the flight, I peered back to find a miscellany of white wings and black cloaks. It stretched for as far back as I could see, and it made me wonder what the radar detectors below us were picking up.

We needed to arrive undetected, but with a force this size, that would be impossible. I knew already that The Sevens, or what was left of them, would see us coming. And they would use it to their advantage.

What I hadn’t expected was for them to draw us in so close.

As we approached, a massive number of sentinels waited for us, rows of black uniforms so close together they formed a solid line weaving through the Ministry grounds. But not a single one moved. The orders had been given, and clearly they didn’t include an attack.

If anyone was waiting for me to stop and make an assessment, they were sorely disappointed. There would be no stopping; there was no time for it.

“Reminds me of London,” Maggie commented to the left of me, her appendages taking up several feet on both sides of her.

Eran, who was on her opposite side, chuckled. “With one contrasting dynamic…this time, we’re the ones attacking.”

They laughed and I wondered, once again, if they had reached the border between reason and lunacy.

Lunacy would work at this juncture.

“I see them,” Jocelyn said, drawing my attention back to the Ministry. My eyes swept across it, as we closed in on it, narrowing to the location where most hangings took place: the courtyard.

We breached the Ministry walls, soaring over the Vires assembled, and still found no resistance. When we landed in the courtyard, with those in our forces with the ability to hover doing so above us, the Vires still did not move.

And then I understood why.

The Sevens wanted us to see what they had done. They wanted to make sure there was no question it had been done by their hands, and not during the battle that was sure to come.

They want us to know their power.

I knew all this for a fact.

My mind, always so focused, stopped then, unable to process any longer. Vaguely, I understood this reaction was for protection, a shutting down of my mind before what I saw could do more harm.

I stood frozen, unable to register my surroundings, unable to move, unable to breath.

Jocelyn, however, screamed shrilly. She ran for the two women dangling at the end of their own respective ropes, who I wouldn’t have recognized if I hadn’t been told they were here.

In one continuous thought, every memory I ever had of Miss Celia surged back to me. The sight of her snapping beans in the kitchen with her favorite bowl. Leaving for church in her best Sunday hat. Standing inside the house she grew up in while trying to prepare Jocelyn and me for the war we found ourselves in. The pride in her eyes as she educated me about the voodoo culture. The disgruntled frown she retained just for me, whenever she caught me sneaking out to visit Jocelyn. And so many more.

Now, here she hung. The remains of what was once a strong, resourceful, loving woman now destroyed.

In my near-catatonic state, I caught glimpses of the scene in front of me. I couldn’t be sure if they were of Miss Celia or Miss Mabelle. Regardless, they both had suffered incredibly before death. The dangling eye. The missing nose. The torn fingernails, a sign they had clawed at something. The patches of perfectly cut skin removed from their thighs, the belly, the left jaw. It all told me that they had suffered. Worse, they had been tortured. No, The Sevens had done this to put them on display just for us. The presence of one woman confirmed it. Lacinda stood on the stairs directly above Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia, the two women who she had unquestionably committed to death.

As my eyes landed on her, narrowed, filled with rage, she did something unexpected. She jerked. She stared back, her expression blank. She was deciphering something.

Decipher this, bitc-

I got that far in my thought before she drew in a breath and looked horror-struck. There was no reason for anything else to cause this reaction in her. Her eyes were still on me. So I understood…

You can hear me
, I channeled.

The twitch in her face told me she could.

We’re stronger now
, I thought.
If I can channel to you across the courtyard, imagine what more we can do.

Her eyebrows furrowed, telling me that she didn’t like that news. And if she didn’t enjoy hearing it, she definitely wouldn’t care for my next thought.

I smirked and delivered it defiantly.
It must be
from making love to Jocelyn
.

And Lacinda’s jaw fell. Her eyes swooped to Jocelyn, who was oblivious to her, still trying to heal Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia, and sent sharp imaginary daggers at her.

Something snapped in me then. I understood that Lacinda had not heeded my warning to stay clear of Jocelyn. She never would. I knew that she had used Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia to trap us here. This had all been planned. And for those poorly made choices, Lacinda would die.

I’m going to get through these Vires
, I warned,
and then I’m coming for you.

She spun around, her teal blue silk dress flying out from her force, and then she ran.

This understanding liberated me, removing my mental shackles that kept me bound just where The Sevens wanted me.

Roaring, I ran for the nearest Vire, took hold, and channeled my force into him. His eyes widened before he could even react, my anger swelling inside him until his heart burst. The two on both sides of him, tackled me, but they didn’t get far. My energy, potent with rage, eliminated both, rupturing their brains.

A chain reaction followed with the entire courtyard and everyone in it fighting.

In a blind rage, I ran for Jocelyn, who was still trying to resurrect Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia. It was clear to me that she had lost it as much as I had, although she’d gone in the direction of grief.

“Jocelyn,” I shouted, sprinting across the courtyard.

I had almost reached her when a woman stepped out from behind Miss Celia’s slumped, hanging body. Dressed in a blue batik, a traditional Indonesian dress, she looked out of place surrounded by black uniforms. However, the snide smile and moldavite stone necklace she wore seemed perfectly in place.

“Diomed,” I yelled, rattling Jocelyn enough to cause her to look up just as Diomed’s face stretched into a victorious smile.

Ice, the word raced through my head, Diomed is susceptible to ice.

As my feet carried me toward Jocelyn, a distance that seemed farther with each step, I searched for something, anything that could be used to freeze water. But Diomed was diligent. She had distanced herself from her weakness, and she had been careful not to reveal her position until the moment that suited her best.

What she hadn’t counted on was my momentum.

I didn’t hesitate, extending my arms as I reached her and lodged them around her neck. My force slammed her body against the stone wall behind her.

And my channeling instantly caught the images that had been captured in her memory. She had been a prostitute, a maid, a shopkeeper throughout her extended life, taking what she wanted, killing when she could, until meeting Peregrine. They became lovers, but there was no love between them. It had been her idea to seek out the first channelers, to abduct them and use them, and to leave their bodies in the street. It was she who caused Jocelyn to be taken from me weeks ago, having tortured those in her province for information on our whereabouts.

“You’re going to die now,” I growled, squeezing her neck.

Her eyes dipped to my hands encircling her throat and because her breath was kept from surfacing by my squeezing fingers, her answer was a sideways smirk and a slight shake of her head. But it was the confidence in her glare that frustrated me.

She was relaying the truth, and we both knew it.

Then her body began to slowly peel away from the wall. Something behind her was shoving her forward, but there should only have been stone. It wasn’t until I saw the tip of the first appendage did I understand what was happening. By then, it was too late.

She jerked me up, through the conflict above, and into the gathering clouds, as Jocelyn’s scream dissipated rapidly from my ears. We came to an abrupt halt several stories over the Ministry, where black uniforms and cloaks blended with white wings.

Up here, the shouted incantations, clanging of swords and explosions by the elements were muted. Only the wind running across my ears and the pounding of my heart were audible.

In the quiet, she observed me briefly, as one might do to an animal they’ve never seen, and then turned my own words against me. “You’re going to die now.”

“No, he’s not.” Jocelyn’s voice came up from beneath us, growing louder with each succeeding word. So when her fist plowed into Diomed’s face, the woman seemed stunned, unable to understand how Jocelyn had gotten to her so swiftly.

The hit loosened my grip on her, and I plummeted a few feet until Jocelyn caught me.

“Hold on,” she called out coming up beside me, her hair catching the wind as she soared by.

My body yanked and suddenly I was moving at her speed, directly alongside her.

“We need ice,” I said.

She nodded but didn’t turn her focus from what had caught it. Looking ahead, I understood why. Below us, littering the courtyard floor, were jagged balls of ice. Hundreds of them. The Elementalists had good aim. Some were chipped, some broken, but not all. Jocelyn laced us through the maelstrom of fighting bodies and down to Diomed’s Achilles’ heel.

A glance back told me that Diomed understood our intentions, her cheeks and blue batik flapping from the force of her speed. She was coming for us but wasn’t fast enough.

Jocelyn and I reached the courtyard floor, picked up the ice and used the force of our rotations while turning to catapult them into the air directly at Diomed. They hit, one in her chest and another across her ear. But a third ball of ice found its target in her leg and as Diomed’s body slid to the ground, face first, skirting over it and bumping until it stopped, I searched for the one person I knew had sent off that last shot.