Birthright (Residue Series #2) (12 page)

Mrs. DeVille turned
sharply, spitting
over her shoulder at him while continuing to hobble along.
When she finally reached her patient, she bent down, leaning so close she had to dodge Olivia’s clawed swipe at her.

As Mrs. DeVille attempted
once
again to reverse whatever hex Olivia had been cast under, Jameson smoothly traversed the room to stand beside her husband. I
remained
in place
, since my
vantage point was better from
w
here
I stood
.

“She said they came back
?”
Jameson inquired
,
quietly,
trying not to
disturb Olivia.

Mr. DeVille nodded
, pursing
his lips
,
obviously discontent.
“That’s right. First time
,
they did what you see to the store. Olivia was injured. Had some cuts and bruises, but nothing like this. Second time
,
they did what you see
happened
to her now.”

“Mmhmm,” Jameson muttered, encouraging him on.

“Entered right through the front door even though it was locked to visitors. By the time we could get here, they’d left and poor Olivia…well, this is how we found her.”

“Any idea why they’d come back?” Jameson asked, dividing his attention between Mr. DeVille and what
Mrs. DeVille
was doing with Olivia. “Has she…
maybe
Olivia told you something that might help
us
understand…” he ventured.

“Hasn’t told us anything all day. Lots of groaning and
lots of
screeching,
but no speaking.”

Jameson nodded
,
thoughtfully. “And it was the same Vires, the same one
s
who came around the first time?”

Mr. DeVille shook his head
, emphatically
. “That was the odd thing. The ones who came back…they had a woman with them. Tall…
wearing
a floral dress. Heard them call out her name…Gant…Gann…” He sighed, trying to recall the name they’d used.

“Gaul?” I offered
,
and from the corner of my eyes I saw them look in my direction.

“That’s it,”
confirmed
Mr. DeVille.

Jameson’s shoulders visibly tensed
at hearing
this news. “Mrs. Gaul was here.” He
mumbled
to himself, deeply considering
the magnitude of
what this meant. “Returning after the damage had already been done…
but
why?”

“To do more damage?” Mr. DeVille proposed.

This was a foregone conclusion
,
but neither of us mentioned
it.

As if to redirect Mr. DeVille, Jameson asked,
“When did she come back? What time?”

After pondering the question, he
lifted a finger in the air
,
as if pointing out the time on a clock. “Noon. Came back at noon.”

“After second period class…”
Jameson groused.

“After second what?” Mr. DeVille
asked
, leaning toward Jameson.

A shriek
suddenly
escaped from Olivia
,
bringing the conversation to a temporary halt so Mr. DeVille could plug his ears
.
After briefly checking in her direction, the conversation picked back up where it left off.
Jameson was intent on getting every detail he could.

“What was the reason they gave for the first visit? Did they say?”

Mr. DeVille frowned
,
and for a moment
,
I didn’t think he was going to respond. “We got hit, too. Most everyone did…
seemed
to be looking for two things…
a
rope…”

At this
announcement
, Jameson again glanced in my direction, because we knew which rope Mr. DeVille was referring to.

“The Rope of The Sevens?” suggested Jameson.

“That’s the one. Told them it had gone missing in the 4
th
Century so it didn’t seem like they’d be finding it any time soon. They didn’t like that very much…”

Jameson and Mr. DeVille chuckled.

But then
Mr. DeVille continued on, more tenuous. “The other thing they wanted to know was about their missing associates. Fred and Nastis.”

He’d almost remembered the names correctly. Either way, it didn’t matter. Jameson and I knew it was Frederick and Anastas
’ disappearance
that the Vires
were
investigating.

“What did you tell them?” prompted Jameson.

“The truth. Can’t give them information on people I don’t know anything about
.”

That seemed to make sense to Jameson, whose only reaction was a
sigh of relief.
“And the second time they came around? Any idea what they were asking about then?”

Mr. DeVille shrugged carelessly. “Don’t know. I’m sure they stopped in on us. Did it with everyone. But we must have missed ‘em while we were here trying to help Olivia.”

Jameson didn’t speak for a few minutes, absentmindedly watching Mrs. DeVille
as she
unintentionally taunt
ed
Olivia with her incense stick, scaring
her
more than healing her. “So
the
Vires made visits yesterday, asking about the rope and their missing friends. But Mrs. Gaul returned today…
with her own crew…arriving
around noon…casting hexes on anyone she locate
d
.”

“That
about sum
s
it up,” agreed Mr. DeVille.

“The reason for the second visit…” Jameson
paused, visibly
aggravated. “I-I just don’t understand why she’d hit the same people twice. There’s nothing
to
gain from it.”

As the two men
were working diligently to solve the mystery,
another scream
shrieked
from Olivia. I’d been watching the entire time
,
and the extent of Mrs. DeVille’s healing capabilities were to wave an incense stick around and chant something unintelligible. Now
,
Olivia
violently started
clawing at her face, leaving red gashes down her cheeks, and by that point
,
I’d seen enough.

“All right,” I stepped forward.

“Back!” Mrs. DeVille warned,
yet
again.

I ignored her.

As it
turned out
,
Mrs. DeVille was all bark and no bite
,
because when I reached her
,
there was no physical effort on her part to prevent me from getting any closer.

I
vaguely
noticed the conversation had stopped behind us
;
as I crouched
down
in front of Olivia,
she was staring
back at me with hollow, frantic eyes.

“Olivia,” I said softly.

Her nails were still embedded in her paper-thin skin but at least they’d paused at her jaw line. Now her fingers hung there, at the end of five rows of red trenches, despite the blood streaming down and dripping from the ends of her elbows.

I slid out of the way of the pool collecting below her and started again.

“Olivia, I’m Jocelyn Weatherford. You and I…
we
met once before…”
While I was speaking,
part of my attention
shifted
to my left hand
, reaching
for the remnants of a crystal candle holder.

As my
hand came to rest on
it, I saw
Olivia’s fingers uncurling
and
readying
herself
to strike
.
Without hesitation, I
gripped the candle holder and
swung my left arm overhead
,
sending it flying
across the room.

It crashed against the opposite wall and shattered, sprinkling
shards
across the floor.

My plan worked. Olivia’s head spun
around, following the clatter, which distracted
her just long enough for my free hand to land on her ankle, the part of her body closest to me.

The words
“Incantatio s
ana
”
flew from my mouth faster than they ever had before
.
Then
I
turned my focus
on
back
ing
up
,
because Olivia’s attention
returned
to me.

Snarling, she lashed out, nearly catching the edge of my forearm. She’d have reached me
, too,
if it hadn’t been for Jameson,
who pulled
me
out of
harm’s way.

“Did she get you?” he asked in a rush, already inspecting me for injury.

“No…”
My
heart was pounding in my ears.

“You didn’t have to
…”
I said, regaining my composure.

“I know. You can heal yourself. I just…I didn’t want to see you need to.”

I smiled my appreciation
, drawing
his attention to my lips.

“You’re welcome,” he said
,
tenderly.

By then, Olivia was
coming to
, her fearful expression being replaced with confusion.

“Oh my…” she
groaned, n
oticeably
shaken.
She was blinking rapidly
now
, trying to readjust her sight
.
“How did…”

Her hands pulled away from her face
, trembling,
and she released a
terrified
gasp. Blood
was covering her
fingers
and streaming down her arms,
glistening in the candlelight.

Mrs. DeVille, with all her venom, lurched toward Olivia, shoving Jameson and me aside in her haste
,
to come to her friend’s aid. She immediately went about trying to calm Olivia, who was actually far more composed than her caretaker.

The rips down Olivia’s face
started healing then, leaving
only the matter of washing away the blood. You’d think this would have relieved the tension
,
but Mrs. DeVille kept a
leery, watchful
eye on Jameson and me
,
until we left.

We exited through the same back door we’d
entered through,
and then, following Jameson’s
lead,
we
hurdled a building
, landing
in a private courtyard.
The next
shop was hidden down a long hallway
,
but it had been hit, too, and in
the exact
same way. We healed the owner
,
and
briskly
moved on to the next establishment.

It became a morbid cycle. Enter…slog through destruction…locate distraught proprietor…
perform a healing
…move on.

Jameson turned out to be a
n astute
guide, knowing every shop’s rear entrance and
, if locked,
where the keys were hidden
. By
the ninth place we stopped
,
I
grew
suspicious. He’d just
retrieved
a key, designed to innocently resemble a hairpin, from a bowl in a planter when I asked, “So…how is it you know where the back doors are? And how do you know how to get in when they’re locked?”

He brushed it off. “I come around here every once in a while. Errands…” he added.

“Errands? What kind?” I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

He paused to think about how to answer. “I carry things.”

I sighed dramatically. “Come on, Jameson.”