Exaltation (Insight #11)(82)
“Do you remember the direction you said yesterday?”
“I said them all.”
“Can you maybe remember the order? That might get us close.”
“Dad, one word took me to that house, not a direction.”
He stared down at her. With a shaky breath Raven uttered, “Home.”
Everything moved around them. Raven held her father’s stare even after she heard the music, the guitar. She was insanely edgy. Jamison broke their stare first.
Raven read his expression. It wasn’t a good read, he was thrilled and mad at the same time.
“The Selected,” he said under his breath.
“Selected for what?” Raven asked, still not daring to look away from him. She could hear what sounded like a party, laughter. That out of place feeling grew and grew inside of her.
“Divine travel.”
Raven didn’t know what that meant and was too nervous to focus on it. Her gaze moved to the house. Every light was on. The door was open.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“I just want to look into his eyes,” Jamison said, taking her hand. He doubted he could find this place again. He had no idea how Raven got this deep in the Veil and out as easily as she did. This was not the thin fringes he had taught her to use.
To track this boy Jamison was going to have to have something of his—his essence. It would take time, but they could weave spells from there. At least give Reveca Beauregard a direction to bargain in when they asked her to find his soul.
Raven made sure she walked just behind Jamison. She felt like she was four again. Strolling at his side, having to take three steps to his one. He wasn’t walking fast—Raven was dragging.
When they reached the door the sound of multiple voices all laughing and having a good time roared around them.
There were women there, all ages, more young than old. The one thing they had in common was the way they were dressed, and how forward they were. More than a few made advances at Jamison, but he didn’t even notice. He was taking in the home, the details of it, as if he had just stepped onto a spaceship or something.
Raven nodded for him to go into the room she was in before.
When they got there Raven knew that though she had witnessed horrifying events in the veil, grueling souls—she’d never once seen anything as tragic as what was before her.
She chose not to breathe, because if she did she’d either cry or puke.
The boy was there on the couch, playing his guitar as girls hung on him like he was a coat rack. One standing behind the couch even pulled up his chin and sunk her tongue so far down his throat Raven had to wonder why he wasn’t choking.
“Cashton, love, play me a song,” another girl beckoned. Pulling him away from the girl that had him in her clutches as she ran her hand up his thigh.
He urged the girl who had him away. When his gaze moved to glance back at the one that wanted him to play he saw Raven. Really saw her. He froze in place. The music he was playing stopped. The girls with him glared at her.
Raven was crimson with embarrassment. The room was spinning. As Cashton stood Raven thought and said every direction she could think of.
The scene flashed all around her, and he was gone. Everything from blood and gore to serenity passed by Raven’s vision before she finally said ‘out.’ And found herself by the river that backed up to the Quarter.
She fell to her knees on the sidewalk. Emotions, which had no foundation, were ripping her apart slowly as hot, angry tears raced down her face.
She felt sick and couldn’t make it go away. Before she knew it, she was sick. Now on top of everything else she was mortified.
The walkway was not deserted. Some souls were sleeping out there; others were strolling hand in hand. Raven stood up and walked farther down the bank. The river was letting off a cool breeze, one she was clinging to, that she needed to calm herself down.
Raven was sure she had read that entire time in the Veil wrong. She had no doubt one of those girls in that room had her name, that must be why he said it. He was saying he was sorry to her because he was a player—AKA the biggest regrettable she had ever met. Right when Raven found her balance Jamison appeared. He pulled her to him and rocked her side to side as he caressed the back of her head. The same way he did when she was a little girl and had a bad dream, or fell and scraped her knee.
All at once he tensed.
“Who let you out?” Raven heard him say.
Now Raven was scared. Did he follow us out? The dead boy?
Raven slowly looked up from Jamison’s chest. It wasn’t the Cashton boy. It was a man, about Jamison’s age. Dark eyes and hair, well built. And he most definitely did not look dead.
He extended his hand to my father.
“Charlie Myers, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a pained stare. Jamison shook his hand.
“Jamison BellaRose.”
One nod came from the man, like he already knew. “She’s yours?”
“Is he yours?” Jamison asked.
Pain filled the man’s eyes. “I just found him.”
“You’re The Selected.” The man nodded once. “And that boy? Is he who I think he is?” Jamison asked with a nod to Raven. The Charlie man nodded once. “And here I thought The Selected had honor.” That statement might as well have punched the Charlie guy in the gut. His eyes filled with agony.