Birthright (Residue Series #2) (26 page)

The very next memory came quick
,
and what I saw
took my breath away.

Feeling restricted and itchy, with the sound of a motor running beside my ears, I stared up through the plastic covering of an incubator as a man’s blurred face moved across my view and out of sight. What stunned me was the hazy outline of what appeared to be a
moldavite
stone on the man’s tie clip. I knew instantly what that meant. A Vire had visited Jameson in the hospital
immediately
after birth. This made sense
,
when I recalled
their attempt
to kidnap him during
the same
time period.

That clip of his life was abruptly replaced
with a scene showing
a bird flapping rapidly and beating its
elf
against
a
window,
in an effort
to escape.
Sounds
of a lunchroom drifted to my ears as forks and knives were aim
ing
at the creature but
Jameson’s voice broke through the
commotion.
“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.”
Suddenly,
I was staring directly at
a group of
fifth-grade boys already leveling their weapons again. Even with my eyes closed
,
I
could feel
Jameson’s narrow
, sending an unspoken message that Jameson wasn’t going to back down
. Disgruntled, the boys forfeited their next onslaught of utensils and returned to eating. I almost sighed while realizing Jameson had defended the helpless from a young age.

The next memory was of Mrs. DeVille’s store
,
and my bracelet, the one with my family stone, came
into
view. Jameson was staring at it, but I didn’t get the sense that all was normal. He felt unnerved, defensive, as if a lion was
waiting to spring from
the corner of the room. His breathing had stopped,
and I was struggling
to
fill my own lungs
as
his eyes remained firmly set on my
quartz
crystal
.
Thoughts were rushing through his mind
,
and they weren’t entirely comforting.

She’s a Weatherford…
             

She’s staring at me. She’s confused.

Why is she staring?

Because I’m staring at her stone.

I’m gonna have to stop staring.

No…she can’t be a Weatherford…

She’s too innocent. She’s not like the rest.

She’s saying something to me.

“
Quartz crystal.”

This last phrase came to me through my mind and my ears, in an echo, because he
just spoke and thought it at the same time, referring to the type of stone in my bracelet. His lungs were working again
,
but he hadn’t entirely unwound.

I’ve made her feel awkward. I look menacing
.
Put down your shoulders. Look her in the eye.

I watched from his perspective as his gaze settled on me
,
and I felt the tightening of his stomach muscles.

How did this happen? She doesn’t know me. How? How does she not know I’m a Caldwell? Maybe I’m wrong about the stone? Maybe she’s not a Weatherford?

I heard his voice ask for my last name and
experienced
the resulting sickness he felt when I answered.

Weatherford
, he repeated in his mind.
She’s a Weatherford. Can it be done? Can I get away with seeing a Weatherford? How can I do this? How can I see her without making her feel threatened?

I felt my throat constrict,
protesting
the ability to speak, but his words rang in my ears, as part of his memory, “All right.”

The memory of his thoughts came again.
She’s talking to me…with that voice, that incredible voice. I could listen to that voice constantly.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he said, his muscles releasing themselves now
,
as he made his way to the cash register.

All of this happened in just a few seconds
,
but it was long enough to recognize it had been the first time we
met.
Without warning,
another memory appeared
,
one far more chaotic.

The explosion of a tree limb jolted me, nearly making me let go of Jameson’s hand. Vaguely, I heard him call out my name, anxious and hesitant, but I didn’t respond, having been
pulled
too
briskly into
the turmoil I was observing. Bodies were flying through the air, water was splashing
all around
, and it was dark
, too
dark to
clearly define anything.
I felt my eyes moving with his memory, darting back and forth, trying to take in all that was happening.

“Right,” Jameson shouted, his voice ringing in my ears. I felt my right arm want to fly out and point in that direction.
In
Jameson’s memory his limb did just that
,
but I forced mine to remain in place.

Charlotte followed his command
,
with Alison and Vinnia right behind her.

He’s coming around
, Jameson thought.

Suddenly the face of a Vire appeared before Jameson. It was plump, dirtied, and snarling
;
I recognized him immediately.

“Anastas,” said Jameson
,
almost casually. “We don’t want to fight.”

Anastas snorted, snot blowing in strings from his nose. “What you want doesn’t make a bit of difference. You can come with us or you will die tonight.”

“If we go with you, we are dead anyways.”

Anastas laughed
wildly
and nodded in agreement.

“So we really have no choice,” said Jameson, as Charlotte, Alison, Vinnia, and Dillon appeared just beyond the trees a few yards away.

Anastas bent down and scooped a handful of bayou water in
to
his palm. By the time he was standing again, it had turned to a jagged flat disc of ice. In his other palm, a fire began, lighting the hideous grin creeping across his face.

“Would like to haul you in. Ministry would probably crown me. But you and the girlfriend are worth just as much dead.”

When Anastas mentioned me,
I felt Jameson’s muscles tighten
, igniting
a fury
that violently
rush
ed
through me.

Anastas
raised his arm
then
, aiming
the disc at Jameson’s throat. From there, movement came from every direction, taking Anastas to the ground.

A second later, the sickening crunch of a bone
breaking
rose above
the uproar of tired
grunts and turbulent
fighting.

It wasn’t just a bone, I realized. It was Anastas’s neck. And it was Jameson’s arm around it.

Breathing heavily, Jameson freed himself and slid off Anast
as’s body, kneeling
in the shallow water, stunned
in
to silence. Not a single thought moved through his mind.

Memory of the
walk back through the bayou
,
after what
just
happened
,
was a blur
,
with Jameson struggling to keep his feet under him and his stomach from coming up through his throat. Then he saw me
,
and relief
blanketed
him.

Jocelyn
, he called out, although nothing could be heard. There was no strength left to formulate
the words or
send
them
through his lips.
When
his arms came around me, words flooded his thoughts, speaking to me even though he kept me from hearing them at the time.

Jocelyn, Jocelyn, I killed a man. I killed him. With my arm. He threatened you…us. But I did…I did it to save us, to save you. So please…forgive me. I feel sick. I feel so sick. I’m supposed to save lives, not take them. I can’t…I can’t understand…anything.

When
he took in a deep breath
,
I smelled the scent of my hair, like flowers on a spring day, something so out of place in the grimy, bloodied bayou
. Then,
I felt it. The healing power of my energy. For the first time, I felt what others experienced, sensing how it washed over him like warm water, cleansing
and
freeing, rinsing away the pain. The exhaustion was erased
, and
the pain ebbed until it was gone completely.

“You did it, s
weetheart,” his voice murmured softly in my ear.

Then h
is
thought
s
ran through my mind, one that he hadn’t voiced, leaving me stunned
to listen to them now
.

I love you. God, I hope you still love me.

My eyes flew open
suddenly
,
and
again,
I was recognizing where I was, surrounded by
whitewashed
walls in a candle-lit room.

“Yes,” I stated. “I do. Of course I do.”

His eyes
flashed
opened
,
realizing I’d broken our channel. “You do what?” The innocence in his expression told me he had no idea what I was talking about.

“You didn’t…
did
you…
do
you know what memories you just sent me?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Miss Celia interrupted, stepping forward while keeping her arms crossed in front of her chest. “One doesn’t single out any particular memory. You grasp
onto
them as they pass.” Her tone turned nonchalant, seemingly insensitive to what I’d just seen
,
though not intending to be callous. “You’ll learn to slow them down as you go.”

I drew in a deep breath
,
almost frightened to close my eyes
again.

“Are you all right?” whispered Jameson, leaning toward me, trying to understand what I was feeling.

After another lung-fill
ing
inhale, I
dipped
my head and answered, “You were worried I didn’t love you…anymore.”

His eyebrows lifted
,
temporarily
taken aback
.

The
n the
candles flickered, sending
sharp
patterns across the wall, and extinguished entirely.
The
room went dark. The walls were windowless
,
and the hallway extending to
the street
wouldn’t allow
any gusts
to reach inside the room.
Yet
,
somehow the flames were disturbed.

No one spoke as we sat in stunned silence, each of us attempting to reconcile with what just happened.

“
Incantatio i
ncendo
,”
Miss Celia whispered
,
and the candles’ flames sputtered back to life.

I was still staring at Jameson, who
se eyes hadn’t left
mine either.
The indication of a smile
played
his lips.

“Never seen that happen before. Have you?” I heard Miss Celia ask.

“Never
,
” replied Miss Mabelle
,
breathless
,
as if what she’d just seen stole
her ability to exhale.

Jameson and I had
seen it before
though. In Olivia’s shop
,
the moment we met. Jameson recognized it, too
, which
I knew from the grin still threaten
ing
to break through.

“Jameson,
” said Miss Mabelle, disturbing our revelation. “I
t’
s your turn.”

We broke our gaze, shifted on our bottoms, and prepared ourselves for another session. I was actually glad for the frigid concrete floor
now
. It reminded me I was here and not back in the bayou. I wasn’t sure how vivid my memories would be but Jameson’s were disconcertingly detailed.