Birthright (Residue Series #2) (17 page)

“I’ll make sure he knows that,” she
gently
replied
.

Something in her reaction told me that she understood
,
and
her
demeanor
encouraged me.
To me, it
meant that she’d do her best to deliver the message…if she truly had that
ability. I knew I was placing my trust in a complete stranger, who by all means could be a genuine wacko
, but
I had no choice.
We already exhausted all other options in trying to
bring Jameson back
,
each one failing miserably.

On the other hand, if she truly could deliver the message
,
I’d be opening a dialogue with my long dead father, one that would
n’t
start with “Hi Dad, I’ve missed you
,
” but with a demand
for him to
give me a cure
for healing
the man I love.

Hardly believing it was possible, I suddenly felt worse.
I was an awful daughter.

I swallowed
hard,
and said, “Could you add something to my message?” She nodded
,
and I stated, “Can you tell him that I love him?”

Instantly
recognizing the sensitive nature of my addition
, she
smiled. “Of course.” After a brief pause, she
continued
, “So, you don’t pay now-”

Realizing she was about to move on and explain her services, I stopped her
and pointed
to the sign promoting her service. “I know.”

“Hmm, good. You’re observant.”

While I appreciated the compliment, I didn’t have time for it. “When can the message be delivered?”

“Tonight, when I-”

I cut her off,
knowing
I was being contentious. “I’m sorry. That’s not soon enough.”

She looked back at her boyfriend
;
he
was leaning against the rails
bordering
a park in the center of Jackson Square. He didn’t
offer any response,
leaving the decision entirely up to her.

“Jameson, my boyfriend, he has a day. Maybe two.”

She turned back to me where I could see
her sympathy
,
but that wasn’t what I needed. A sense of urgency
is
what I was looking for. Then, in a move that completely threw me, she stood and headed for her motorcycle.

Under her breath, as she passed her boyfriend, I heard her say something that I knew was only meant for his ears. “Good thing you kept me up last night.”
In an equally quiet manner, h
e
chuckled mischievously in
reply.

“Come back in an hour,” she instructed me
,
from
over her shoulder.

An hour. That seemed like such a long time away when Jameson was fighting for his life. Her boyfriend noticed my hesitation and tried to soothe me as the girl began strapping on her helmet.

“Magdalene delivers messages while
she’s
asleep. An hour will be just enough time
for her
to get home, nod off, and get back here.”

“That’s her name?” I asked
,
as she
was starting to mount
her motorcycle with the poise of a professional rider. “Magdalene?”

The man stepped up and extended his hand to me. “Eran Talor,” he said with unabashed self-assurance. “Magdalene goes by Maggie.”

I took his hand. “Jocelyn.”

“Yes, a Weatherford…”

I was surprised. “You
do know us…
”

“We
know
of
you.” He gave me a
sly
grin. “It’s hard to keep anything private at our school.”

That seemed fair. Neither of our reputations were a secret.

Maggie’s motorcycle rumbled to life, drawing my attention to where she sat
,
entirely in black
,
reminding me of a knight on a horse
preparing to ride into
battle. With her helmet concealing her face, she
offered
a nod
as she
bolted
off toward the street.

As
I watched Maggie disappear down the road, it dawned on me…
this girl impressed me. They both did.
Sure,
I’d seen them
on the grass at lunch and in the hallways between classes
, keeping mostly to themselves, but until now
,
I’d never given them much consideration. Either way, I
’m
glad they were here now
,
because I need
an
answer
…
fast.

My line of thought was disrupted when Eran tipped his head to the left of my shoulder
, pointing
out, “Looks like your family’s caught up.”

I was already standing as Vinnia and Oscar came to a stop, breathing heavily.

“Good thing…” said Oscar,
doubled
over from exhaustion, “you weren’t seen…”

I stared back at him, confused. “Why?”

He leaned
farther
toward me
, speaking
just loud enough
for
only my ears
to hear
. “Because
…
you never…touched the ground. Vinnia couldn’t even keep up.”

I instantly knew what he meant. I
didn’t
run here.
I
levitated.

After quickly
scanning the area, I
was relieved to see that I successfully
evade
d
the Vires
who were
guarding us. While that
wasn’t my intention,
it was nice to know I could do it.
However,
my
sense of freedom
would be
short
-lived, because they would
catch
up to
us soon enough.

My cousins followed my motion and Oscar
looked
perplexed
, asking
, “What are you doing here?”

There was no denying it. T
his
was the first time I felt foolish since coming up with this plan
…my
last resort. I tilted my head up a bit, ready for any ridicule they might send my way, and explained why I’d suddenly sprinted out of the house just before dusk and ended up in the French Quarter to ask a complete stranger to communicate with my dead father.

Thankfully,
the idea of it didn’t seem so outlandish to them after all.

Oscar’s head bobbed up and down
, surveying
what I’d just said. “Makes sense…
yeah
, makes sense.”

“Good thinking,” added Vinnia.

I knew they were
trying to be
encouraging
,
and I appreciated the effort. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to speak again for the next hour
,
as we anxiously watched the sun set over the horizon
, awaiting the answer we desperately needed
.

As the shadows of the buildings around us
fell
across Jackson Square signaling that the day had ended, Eran began packing up his girlfriend’s folding chairs
. He stopped to chat
with a scrawny man who had an ostentatious quality about him and bright, orange hair.

Eran’s thick English accent came up behind me
then
. “Magdalene is my ride
,
so I’ll stay with you until she gets back, if you’d like.”

“Me too,” said Oscar protectively, already
sliding
closer to me.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Eran spoke. “This one…Jameson…he means a lot to you.” He said this as a statement, as if he
already
arrived at this conclusion,
but I answered anyways.

“He means everything to me. Everything.”

“Yeah,” he replied, scuffing his foot along the ground
and
smiling at some private thought. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He
took
in a deep breath
, preventing
the grin rising up
,
and changed the subject. “So, Jameson sounds like he’s in a tough situation.”

“He is,” I replied
,
f
latly, not allowing any emotion
to show,
out of fear
I
would
break down right
here in Jackson Square.

“Cancer?”

I exchanged a look with Oscar
, deciding to generalize my answer.
“We’re not sure.”

“I know this won’t sound as encouraging as I’d like it to be but…” He hesitated, determining whether he should continue.
His final statement was
so pragmatic
;
I couldn’t discount it if
I
wanted to. “Jocelyn, love endures.”

The briefest flicker of recognition stretched to the far recesses of my mind.
Eran’s choice of words made him sound much older than a teenager. They were comforting
and poignant
at the same time.

As my
gaze skirted Jackson Square
,
all emotion I
was feeling
eroded, leaving my body cold, empty, and
indignant.

Across from where we
were standing, the
Vires began
to appear
from around the corner of
each building. They halted
with fists
by
their sides and feet shoulder-length apart. I
eagerly searched
their faces
, seeking
just one of them
. The
image of her ever-present
,
moldavite
pin
was
concretely
etched
in my memory
,
but
despite my desperate pleas,
I didn’t see the pin or Mrs. Gaul appear.

Now that the sun had set,
Jackson Square was
otherwise
empty
. The evening turned
cold enough to push the tourists back to their hotels and the residents back to their homes.

It was just us and the Vires, Theleo being the last of them to appear.

I
have
never been confrontational
, having
never needed to be. I was a healer, a witchdoctor long before I’d ever known it, always
placing
emphasis on helping
and
strengthening.
For the first time, it occurred to me;
sometimes in order to bring healing
,
you
needed to fight.
Before
I knew it
,
my feet were carrying me across
the Square
to Theleo.

He saw me coming
,
our eyes
locking
on each other before I
was standing
directly in front of him.
I noticed his lips lift
just sligh
tly in surprise and then settle
back again.

“Where is Mrs. Gaul?” I demanded
, and before
giving him time to answer
,
I
released
a
furious
shout. “WHERE?”

His muscles tightened
,
and I felt a flash of victory.

“Jocelyn,” Oscar snapped
,
warning me
as he came up
from behind
.
I didn’t budge, still
waiting for my answer.

Recognizing this, Theleo replied calmly, “Mrs. Gaul has been replaced. Her services will be more valuable at the ministry.”

Honestly
, I really didn’t think he
was going to
answer. Being a Vire, I expected him to shun and then cast against me as I turned to leave. This would have been more appropriate behavior. Theleo, however, was actually engaging me, drawing me into a conversation.