Savior Read online

  “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?”

  Nolan answered for all three with a scoff and stated, “You mean, teach ‘em how to bust up the Vires? You kiddin'? I’ve been waitin’ for this!”

  Alison, who always managed to find a spot beside Nolan, leaned in, laughing at his enthusiasm…but she was the only one.

  Under any other circumstance - where our death was not looming - his response may have been humorous to others. Conversely, Jameson took Nolan’s eagerness as a sign of conviction and moved on.

  “Spencer and Dillon, can you work on lifting the cast placed by the Vires over the penal colonies?”

  “Yeah,” they replied together, clearly anticipating the mountain of research it would take to find a solution.

  Jameson turned to the rest of our families and asked, “Will you educate everyone on how to build more shacks?”

  “They’ll need them anyway,” his mother replied, referring to those homes that had been ruined during Sartorius’ invasion.

  “No, new ones. We’ll need more. Many more.”

  She tilted her head at him, trying to follow his line of thought. “You’re expecting guests?”

  “Lots of them,” he replied. I could tell by the look on his face his mind was racing, but he didn’t elaborate.

  Everyone agreed with him, except Charlotte.

  “What are we? Your lackeys?” she mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest. Catching a glimpse of Jameson's frown, she lost her resolve. “All right, all right, but you owe me.”

  Stifling a grin, he added, “Big time.”

  “Really big,” she clarified, before launching into her own slew of instructions. “We’re not going cheap this time. I don’t want to wake up and find that a slug was able to make its way inside again."

  “And we’ll be using color,” added Estelle, just as firmly. “Purple, to be specific.”

  “We’ll see,” snipped Charlotte, curtly.

  With commands in place, Jameson slipped his hand into mine and we left them to debate the practicality of their new building codes. There was only one person's confidence I needed to ensure was intact.

  Heading for the door, I reached out and grasped my mother’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I had the distinct feeling that if it hadn’t already been predetermined that a small group - comprised of Jameson, Theleo, and myself - would be least visible, then she might insist on tagging along. Instead, she agreed to let me leave, albeit unwillingly. I was just thankful when she squeezed my hand in return. It may be the last time she ever did…. Once outside, I tightened the cloak I was still wearing, and, without further delay, we were lifted into the night sky. Tavish, who I already figured had the ability to levitate - given the speed at which he reached us earlier - pointed us in the direction leading us to New York.

  Immersed in our thoughts, we didn't speak for most of the trip. It was Jameson's voice that broke my concentration.

  “You look unnerved,” he observed. I turned my head to find him carefully watching me.

  “I didn’t know you could see it on my face," I said, smiling back.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Without hesitation, I said, “Absolutely. They need help.”

  He agreed with a nod. “If it gets too hard, I’ll be there.”

  “You’ll need to be,” I reminded him. “The only way we work is together.”

  Sneaking a look at him, I discovered he was holding back a smile. From this, I was able to discern what was going through his mind.

  The only way we work is together…in far more ways than just this one.

  He was initially caught off guard by my statement but recovered. “So what is it? What were you thinking just now?”

  “That I wasn’t aware there was a penal colony so close to where I grew up.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Isn’t the academy farther east?”

  “Yes, it is but…how did you know that?”

  “The internet,” he replied, amused I would ask.

  “Oh….” Now I was the one laughing…at myself. With all the hocus pocus surrounding me, I sometimes forgot that other extrao
rdinary discoveries had been made outside our world. “You were checking up on me?”

  He grinned smugly, as if I shouldn’t assume such a thing. “More like checking on those who grew up with you. Did you know a few of them came from our world?”

  My head snapped in his direction. “They did?”

  He lowered his chin in confirmation.

  “Who were they?” I asked, my mind racing to recall anyone who might have stood out.

  “Nurse Carol…”

  “I knew that one.”

  “There was a girl in your calculus class.”

  Remembering exactly who he was referring to, I gasped. “The one with the agate stones in her glasses.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Makes sense,” I mused. “She was a logical thinker. Probably didn’t even need to wear her family stone.”

  He chuckled and added, “Your physical education teacher….”

  “Right…,” I exhaled, laughing. I was amazed that I hadn’t realized it sooner. Her whistle had a fluorite stone embedded on the top and it always seemed to be attached to her lips. “How did I not realize it sooner?”

  “If that one throws you, this one definitely will…”

  “Okay,” I said, cautiously.

  “Your roommates.”

  “Were witches?” I raised my voice, giving Tavish reason to peek back at us. “Alisa and Elizabeth were witches?”

  Smirking at my astonishment, he confirmed, “They wore amethysts and emeralds.”

  “Right, they did…but they never told me who they were,” I mentioned under my breath, sad they hadn’t.

  He brought up a good point. “Not without knowing you were part of our world. We don’t risk that, remember?”

  “Of course and that’s something my mother made sure was kept confidential.”

  He seemed to be silently analyzing my responses. “Do you blame her?”

  After everything I've learned, I had no reservation with giving my answer. “Not for one second.” However, after some thought, I added, “There is something I would have liked her to tell me, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I wish I would have known about this penal colony being so close to the academy.”

  “So that’s what you were unnerved by back there?”

  “Yeah…maybe I could have done something, made their lives easier, somehow.”

  As I dwelled on this, Jameson made a valid point, as he often did. “The villages are kept hidden so no one unfamiliar with our world will accidentally stumble across them. Don’t blame yourself or your mother. Other than giving up your position, there's nothing either of you could have done differently. That would have put you in danger, something your mother and I wouldn’t want. You, on the other hand,” his lips pulled back in a teasing smirk, “I’m never actually sure about.”

  I had thought he was joking until realizing he was now staring at me, intently, as if evaluating my response. Oftentimes knowing me better than I knew myself, he wasn’t looking for an answer as much as my reasoning for putting myself in danger. Unfortunately, I couldn't offer any explanation. Mostly, I reacted on instinct. My set of rules was relatively simple: Someone is in pain, alleviate it; Someone is in trouble, help them; Someone sets out to hurt another, stop them…as much as was humanly or mystically possible. None of those rules took into consideration the idea of what I wanted or needed, and that was what Jameson was asking me to define. So I summed it up for him.

  “You and me both…”

  “Maybe we can do something about that,” he presumed.

  My immediate response was to crack up. “Good luck with that.”

  “You’re telling me there is no possible way you’ll ever consider the ramifications of your actions before entering a dangerous scenario?”

  “I already do.”

  “They just don’t apply to me,” he said, matter-of-factly, finally making his point.

  Momentarily, I closed my eyes, trying to subdue my guilt before answering. I opened them to find Jameson’s translucent green eyes boring into me, trying to find my answer before I gave it. Before I could respond, he began to speak.

  “Jocelyn, what I feel for you…no one ever told me was possible. I knew love existed, obviously. I could see it with my parents, and, sometimes, in others. But with you, it’s not the same. It’s…more intense. It’s powerful. It inspires me, tells me that this world we live in is worth the pain it creates. Now I know that answering to others is a foreign concept to you.” I started to speak, but he waved me off. “Your independence and nerve are just two of the things I love most about you, but when it comes to dangerous situations, maybe you could moderate your enthusiasm for getting involved. Give yourself time to determine the level of risk before jumping in.”

  “Like I’m giving myself time now?” I asked, undeniably referring to the fact that we were heading into our world’s equivalent of a war zone.

  He took in my response, bending his head in acknowledgement.

  “We’ve arrived,” Tavish announced, causing me to break eye contact with Jameson.

  “Just in time,” I muttered, causing Jameson to frown. A forest of pine trees stretched out before us, their peaks jutting into the sky like millions of temple spires. Directly ahead, the smoke drifted up from the penal colony below, appearing to be strands of yarn weaving through the treetops.

  We came to an abrupt stop and Tavish maneuvered us down between the lush branches. The smell of burning wood overwhelmed me, singing my nose for the second time tonight. The sound of crackling wood and desperate moans filled the air, growing louder as we descended. The fact that I saw no movement on the ground baffled me.

  No one was running any longer.

  Pain pierced my heart, thinking that we might be too late, but then it all became clear.

  “This is why you didn’t argue with my mother, or me, about my coming with you,” I said out loud. Jameson knew I was speaking to him, even as my eyes were surveying the colony as it came into sight. “You knew the Vires would be gone, didn’t you?”

  His looked away, but I caught sight of his knowing smile. Given our conversation just moments ago, a sweep of anger went through me.

  As my feet met solid ground, that emotion was rapidly carried away, however. In its place was determination.

  Surrounding us were hundreds of makeshift wood hovel. They were clustered amongst dense tree trunks, crowding the area around us. Lines were strewn between low-laying limbs, clothes still pinned to it, and spits of food with torsos of their catch continued to sear over the campfires.

  Like us, they had been caught completely by surprise.

  “They were looking for someone.”

  The voice came up from behind us, fatigued and bleak, belonging to a man hunched over by exhaustion and age. His clothes hung from his skeletal body as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks and the scar down the side of his face told me that he suffered a difficult past.

  “Braith,” mumbled Tavish, moving to the man's side with the intent of supporting him.

  Accepting Tavish’s arm, he drew in a quick breath. “You’ve been south.”

  It was obvious the elderly man could channel.

  “Yes, to New Orleans. They were attacked, too.”

  “And how exactly did you know that,” asked Jameson, shrugging slightly.

  “Two women. Not from this prison. They came to my house.”

  “Would one of them have been using a cane?” I asked, suspiciously.

  “Yes,” Tavish replied, eagerly.

  “And were their names Mabelle and Celia?”

  Tavish reflected briefly. “They started bickering and the heavier set one called the other Celia.”

  Jameson and I exchanged a deliberate glance. So, our housekeepers have kept themselves busy while staying in the city….

  “Sounds like them,” Jameson confirmed.

  Braith was the only one who was no longer paying any attention to the conversation. His foc
us was on me. Judging from his inquisitive expression, I assumed he’d seen something about me in Tavish’s memory.

  He let out a deep sigh, carrying with it the reason behind his staring. “Witch doctor….”

  Glancing between Tavish and Jameson, making absolutely certain the man was talking about me, I begrudgingly agreed, “Yes, I am. Minus the necklaces made of bone and the ceremonial head masks. I wear a cloak.”

  Even though I was being serious and despite the circumstance for my visit, he smiled lightly. “As I see.” Turning his attention to Jameson, he asked, "And you…a Caldwell, traveling with a Weatherford?”

  Jameson and I both reacted in shock, surprised that he knew our names and history so easily.

  “Yes,” said Jameson, without any elaboration, allowing the man to come to his own conclusions.

  Attempting to turn the conversation back to our purposes for being here, I interjected, “Do you have any wounded, sir?”

  Following my lead, he replied, “We do. Come with me.”

  Trailing behind, Tavish explained, “Braith is our resident channeler.”

  “How was he able to retain his ability?” asked Jameson, because Braith was now out of earshot.

  “He hasn’t.”

  “Then how did he know you’d been down south and that Jocelyn is a witch doctor?” Jameson asked, intrigued.

  “Well, when you lose your ability to channel, other senses take over. Therefore, I’m assuming Braith picked up on the smell of the bayou and with you…” He stumbled trying to explain that part, so Jameson filled in the rest.