Read Birthright (Residue Series #2) for Free Online Page A

business suit. Her makeup was dense and the heels she wore added five inches to her slight stature , bringing her total height up to about four feet. She sternly surveyed this new crop of students , as if she were envisioning beating each one with a stick. Her thickly-outlined lips opened , and I expected her to start screaming. A few others leaned away, already wincing, before she spoke a word.
    Surprisingly, her voice was hoarse and muted, sounding like she’d just gotten over a bad case of laryngitis.
    “What’s wrong with her?” whispered a girl behind me.
    Another girl responded, with an edge to her voice. “Nothing. Vires took her voice. She’s just now getting it back.”
    Without having been told, I knew this newest teacher’s name. Ms. Roquette. I recalled Jameson mentioning her when I’d first met him. Apparently, her punishment for whatever crime she’d committed had come to an end…sort of.
    Ms. Roquette was talking still, a sound that resembled wheezing, so I needed to concentrate to pick up every single wo rd from her. As I listened, what she said drew me in, intriguing me.
    “From air and fire, water and land…energies of our world lend me a hand… return my voice this bright mooned night… if it must be so…replace it with sight.” 
    We watched as her grey eyes drifted upward and to the right ; I held back a gasp , realizing she’d abruptly gone blind. But that wasn’t the only sign. Emptiness claimed her eyes ; creating a void … deep, dark, and impenetrable.
    As she spoke again, her voice – which was originally so low it was unlikely she could have taught class - jolted everyone in the room.
    Suddenly, it dawned on me exactly what I’d just witnessed. Ms. Roquette traded her sight for her voice, redistributing the energy from one physical function to another.
    Glancing around the room, I found that I wasn’t the only one impressed. The rapid jumble of words rushing from our professor’s mouth seemed like gibberish until listening closer, which forced us to focus on what she was actually saying.
    I caught up midway through one of her sentences. “…and I’ve agreed. So I’ll be discussing historical figures.”
    It took me a second to understand what she was doing , but I finally grasped it. She was speaking as fast as possible , trying to get everything in she wished to convey before her ability to speak was taken away. Apparently, displacement of energies didn’t last very long. Unfortunately, now she was also screaming. Her shrill voice rang in the back of my ears , making it nearly impossible to focus on what she was saying. Thankfully, throughout the lecture, it tapered to a normal range for about five minutes and gradually disappeared , becoming bar e l y a whisper. She’d repeat her incantation with various sections of it replaced – “Dark of night and rising moon…listen intently to this witch’s tune…” or “Give me voice on these hallowed grounds… eye of bird and claw of cat, fulfill this request and lend me sound” – and then she was able to continue her lecture . She followed this cycle; though, huffing and rolling her eyes each time her voice began dissipating, it clearly antagonized her, but she fought through it.
    During the two hours of class, Ms. Roquette talked about those responsible for the successful revitalization of the Vires, which also made the forces what they are today. The words “unscrupulous death squad” hovered in my mind, but Ms. Roquette had better manners than to include that in her lecture.
    The revitalization had taken place within our lifetime, invigorating an isolated, disorganized group into a cohesive fighting force using rigorous desensitization lessons. I wanted to tell Ms. Roquette that it worked. The Vires appeared to be automated robots , and when given instructions , they weren’t carried out because of loyalty to their commanders or honor for their position…they did it simply because they were told to. They even