Birthright (Residue Series #2) (35 page)

Inside were rows of
gnarled
tombs stretching out for as far as we could see, separated by wisps of grassy patches or broken pavement. Crosses and statues
adorned
steeples or crumbling rooftops while decorative iron fence
s
embellished others
. It was blissfully quiet with only the sounds of the breeze rustling fallen leaves.

In comparison to
learning that Vires are building an encampment outside our city,
the cemetery – oddly enough – felt like a peaceful escape.

That was, until I came across a mausoleum chiseled with the name Family Tomb of Leyton Weatherford. Stunned, I paused for a closer look even though our housekeepers were well ahead of us.

“I take it you’ve never been here?” Jameson asked
, walking up
from behind me
after noticing I
had
stopped.

I shook my head. “Have you?”

“No,” he said solemnly. “When you’re fighting someone you think is your enemy you really don’t want to know where they’re buried.”

I only vaguely heard his answer because something occurred to me just before he spoke. “Jameson…” I
said in a hushed tone,
unable to bring my voice any higher. “My father is inside.”

A brief second of reflection made the tension grow in the still air between us. This cold stone crypt preserved the remains of someone who had created me, who had brought me into this life and given his life to save mine.

Miss Mabelle’s voice spoke from beside us
then
, appearing
in order to shatter
this illusion.

“Yer wrong ‘bout that. His body was sent to his own family. That’s how theys requested it. That’s how it was done.”

Startled
by that announcement, I
paused briefly before regaining my focus.
“Well, where is he now?”

“Don’t know. Never would tell us the site of his burial.”

“
Uh, are you saying w
e have no idea how to find my father’s final resting place?”

She shook her head slowly,
showing
neither remorse nor pity
.
Her expression was very matter-of-fact, once again exhibiting through actions her warning that she wouldn’t go easy on us, no matter the subject.

Our housekeepers whirled around to start back down the path
,
and we followed, silent and awkward.

To take my mind off the disturbing fact that I didn’t have the option to kneel at my father’s grave
,
Jameson kindly deflected my thoughts by pointing at the tombs we were passing. Votive candles lined the stone slabs in front and around them.

“For the dead,” he explained.

A few tombs later, a cluster of coins were left on the front step, which
Jameson pointed out
.

“Hoodoo money…in exchange for favors. Usually left at notable gravesites.”

As if well timed, Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia
abruptly
stopped at a blackened, unmarked crypt, its pile of
Hoodoo
coins larger than any of the others.

Miss Mabelle seized Jameson’s arm just above the elbow
,
as if she were steadying herself. She wasn’t. She had something else in mind.

“Channel,” she commanded and grasped Miss Celia’s hand
,
to show she intended his effort to include her.

“You, too,”
demanded
Miss Mabelle, tilting her head at me.

Jameson’s hand extended and I took it, his fingers curling around mine, enveloping my hand in warmth. His touch was calming for so many reasons
.
At that instant, just before Miss Mabelle’s words came into my mind, I learned that Jameson had heard my thought. I knew this with certainty when his head jerked back slightly
,
and he blinked in surprise. Thankfully, I had no time to be embarrassed
,
because Miss Mabelle began to speak.

“This tomb contains our beloved sisters. Wilda, Ursyla, Astryd, Laurette, Chantale, and Mahalia. These women were raised together from birth, trained to hone their gifts, to control them
at
a level no one had ever seen before. Over the years, as they cultivated their ability – to see the future of others – it became stronger, clearer. As it did, so did their reputation and the number of those who sought them out. Stories of their services were told and retold around the world, passing from sailor to sailor, king to king, peasant to peasant. They were dedicated to their craft, seeking only to help others and to improv
e
the gift they had been given.

“Then they secured the interest of seven particular individuals. These seven came to meet our legendary sisters, to confirm the reports of their abilities
,
and to have their fortunes and misfortunes read. And when those seven disappeared our sisters did, as well. Taken as slaves, they lived the rest of their lives in the ministry, secretly imprisoned there to appease the seven who had come for them. Once the future of those seven had been recounted on paper, our sisters’ bodies were discarded
on
the streets.”

At this point, I had to actively hold in the anger
starting
to boil inside me.
I could tell by looking at
Jameson
,
he
was doing the same.
It was a good thing Miss Mabelle continued speaking.

“Our sisters and brothers found them and brought them here, where the rest of their families now lay. Here, Jameson and Jocelyn, are buried the ones who knew you before you were born.”

“Knew us?” I
stumbled,
but it was Jameson who was quicker
and able to deduce
the point of what she was trying to tell us.

“Miss Mabelle, are you saying these women were the first channelers?”

“Yes, I am,” she replied
,
stiffly. “We brought you here tonight for two reasons. First, you have a right to know…
our
sisters were the ones who saw you coming. While never naming you
directly
, they identified you in other ways.” I immediately remembered the description Miss Mabelle had given me in Aunt Lizzy’s library the night I’d read about The Relicuum and wondered what other clues the first channelers had found to help identify us as
the ones
.
My
attention was
pulled
back
to
Miss Mabelle
,
as she continued on. “Only
after
the rest of The Sevens
’
futures were channeled and recorded did they recognize what they had done.”

My gaze drifted to the crypt
holding
their sisters’ bodies. At some point in time, they were moving, breathing people. They had likes and dislikes, dreams
they
aspire
d
to,
and
memories of their own. They had been people. And right
now,
despite the devastation they brought on, I forgave them.
Their
intentions
seemed to be
innocent. It was the people who used them
who
made my insides crawl. 

“Why did they channel – or mention what they saw – to The Sevens?” asked Jameson, perplexed, looking between the two of them. “The Sevens were the ones holding them against their will. Why give them anything?”

I turned to evaluate Jameson’s profile. His jaw was defined
, chiseled,
and handsome, jutting out in rebellion.

Miss Mabelle responded but not before releasing a distressed sigh. “They gave away the information in an attempt to save the lives of their sisters.”

It took me only a second to comprehend it all. They were imprisoned with the only hope of release coming in the form of giving their captors what they wanted. How else would they ever be able to convince their captors they were of no more use and they should be released? But it
didn’t
work
.

A powerful feeling of
sadness
came
over me
then. T
hese women, despite their purity
,
or possibly because of it, had been used
…giving
until they
had nothing left to give.
They must have
been waiting
for The Sevens to release their sisters,
but died holding onto
that
hope
;
when in truth
,
their sisters had already been
tossed to the street like bags of garbage.

The Sevens lack of humanity was staggering, nearly shutting down my
mind
entirely to keep any more distressing revelations from entering. Unfortunately, one
did creep
its way in.

“Miss Mabelle,” I said, disregarding my unsettled stomach. “There’s something I don’t understand…” As I said this, all heads turned in my direction. “If your sisters died in the ministry, all of them, how do you know any of this? How did any of it get out?”

She shocked me
, albeit momentarily,
with a show of respect. “Good question,” she said, “Collectively, over time, channelers have pieced together portions of the past until we learned what you have just been told.”

“Were any of those portions part of the records the channelers made?” I asked, expectantly.

“Our futures would certainly be easier if that were the case.”

“But it’s not?” Jameson clarified.

“No,” she replied
,
flatly.

“They didn’t see any of the records made?” Jameson pressed.

“Not enough of them, unfortunately.”

“That’s it?” Jameson sounded almost appalled. “We don’t know anything else?”

“We can be certain of just one other thing,” said Miss Mabelle
,
ominously.

Jameson exhaled sharply and vocalized her insinuation. “The Sevens know what’s coming because
they
have
read the records.”

We waited for a slight nod of acknowledgement from Miss Mabelle
,
before
Jameson and I
,
each
,
released a loud, discouraged
groan
.

“So, our enemies know what to expect before we do…” I mumbled, my optimism diminishing all together.

Jameson had a more insightful response, which didn’t surprise me. “How can you win a war when one side knows what to anticipate? Especially when they know what to expect before the other side even plans it?”

In an effort to offer us hope – yet failing miserably - Miss Celia replied,
“They know the equivalent of headlines in the newspaper, chapter headings in a book. They don’t know the details.”

If there was any question in the deep recesses of my mind about how much trouble we were in,
it
was erased right then. For the first time, I understood the uphill struggle we faced. The Sevens were formidable. They used inhumane, ruthless practices to get what they wanted. And the only ones they wanted, the only things in this entire world
they wanted
, were us.

Jameson, evidently trying to piece it all together,
asked,
“How does this explain why you took Jocelyn from school?”

Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia traded glances, each one conveying there was something deeper and more disturbing than what Jameson and I were assuming.

“That is the second reason we brought you here tonight,” said Miss Celia
,
stoically. “We, our people, are indebted to you-”

“Indebted?” I blurted, which she casually ignored.

“Because our sisters, as unintentional as it was, put you in grave danger, Miss Celia and I were called upon to serve as chaperones, to guide you in understanding what has happened…and what will happen.”

Miss Celia spoke for the first time, her voice cutting through my mind
-
sharp and distinct
-
summarizing it all for us
,
so concisely it left me silent. “We gave Jocelyn the scar to bring her to New Orleans
,
so she could begin the process of learning to protect herself.”

There was an unspoken meaning behind her words, one she didn’t need to elucidate. It wasn’t
just
time for me to learn
how to defend myself…the war
they foretold
was about to start
.