For Blood & Glory

by Cassandra Hendricks

  They stood there, in the cold. Gusts of wind blowing through their hair, ruffling their clothes. It seemed an eternity passed as they stood eyeball to eyeball sizing one another up. Joy broke the tension with a nod and a snicker. “I gotta give it to ya.” She relaxed a bit. “You’re balls to the walls, ain’tcha? All talk and not a clue how to back that up. ‘Threshold for BS.’—I’ve got to use that sometime.”

  “None of this is funny.” Sefira sensed that the girl had decided to take a different route, and she was relieved, although careful not to show it. “Listen.” She rubbed her temples. “You’re right about one thing. I did follow you that night. And it wasn’t because I was drawn to your magnetic personality either.” Sefira shrugged. “Like I told you, I just wanted some answers. I’ve experienced a lot of really weird crap within the past couple of weeks and I’ve been dealing with it by myself. Do you know how hard that is?”

  “Uh—yeah.”

  “Well then okay—you get it. That’s precisely why I came to you. I was hoping you could help me figure it all out.”

  Now that they weren't going to blows, Sefira felt much better. Shifting her weight, and sighing, she asked, “Where are we anyway?”

  “North Dakota.”

  “Nice. I’m assuming this is part of that whole orbing thing you talked about? I guess sun, surf and sand would’ve been too much to ask?”

  “Oh. So, you would’ve liked to have been more comfortable while I kicked your ass?”

  Sefira chewed her lip. “Funny.” This girl has a pair on her. “Look, I realize that we’re two totally different people, but I think we can help each other out.”

  Joy was silent.

  “What do you say we start over—no more fake stuff, just the truth.” Sefira held out her hand for the girl to shake. The girl hesitated, then acquiesced. “Hi.” Sefira introduced herself. “I’m Sefira Carrington and I live in Diamond Bar, California.

  “Blythe,” the girl answered with a smirk, still sizing her up with her eyes. “I live in LA and enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach.”

  “How ‘bout we sit down for a minute—Blythe?” Sefira raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward a broken tree trunk lying in the snow. Funny, what a hot-blooded fight will do to you. A few moments ago, Sefira’s teeth were chattering and now she might’ve been sitting poolside for all the cold she felt. They sat side by side.

  “Okay, yeah, so I lied a little too,” Blythe admitted.

  Sefira sighed. “You didn’t bring me all the way out here to No Man’s Land for nothing. What’s up?”

  Blythe shifted on the log. “Well yeah. I mean, now that I’ve decided to spare you a beat down, I guess we can talk.”

  “What’s with the constant fighting references? You’re like an angry little girl, aren’t you?”

  Blythe chuckled. It was the first time Sefira really saw her at ease. The girl regarded her as if studying her. “I’ve never met anyone like you—like me. I guess it scared me a little.” She picked up a small branch and absentmindedly twirled it in the snow. “I mean we clearly have some stuff in common, right?” she asked.

  “Well,” Sefira sat forward, resting her arms against her knees. “Last time I checked, I hadn’t grown claws, fur and tatts. But yeah, clearly we’ve got some things in common.”

  Blythe pursed her lips. “I have no idea how I did that, by the way. That was—weird.”

  “Yeah, it was…pretty unique,” Sefira nodded in agreement. “Don’t do it again, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell me a little bit about yourself. How old are you? Where are you from?” Sefira asked.

  “You want to know all the basics—I get it.” Blythe sat hunched over, elbows on her knees, holding her branch. “I wish I had the answers to all your questions, but I don’t. I’m sixteen, I’ve lived in LA most of my life, and all this weird magic crap started happening recently. Actually, I take that back. Most of it did. Teleporting started kind of early. But the rest of these gifts, powers, whatever you want to call them—only surfaced within the last couple of months.”

  “What about your family? They must know something. Do they have the same abilities?” asked Sefira.

  “Well, yes and no. Yes, they know about me, but they don’t have the same abilities. I’m a foster kid. My foster mom took me in as a child but passed away a few years ago. She had cancer. Seems like it takes everybody these days.” She scratched an ear. “Since then, I’ve been with Fredo. The guy she was seeing. He could’ve left, but I guess he took pity on me. It’s been him and me ever since.”

  “You’re never going to believe this, but I’m a foster kid too. Maybe we’re part of some bizarre foster kid cult,” Sefira joked. Blythe averted her eyes. “You seriously don’t know anybody like us?”

  “No, I don’t, actually.” Blythe tossed the branch. “Like I said, you’re the first and only person I’ve ever met.”

  “What was up with that thing we ran into the other night? What was that all about?” Sefira asked.

  “That’s the first time something like that has ever happened to me.” She stroked her chin. “Natalie warned me, though. She said that the government is after people like me, so I’ve gotta constantly look over my shoulder. Guess you do too.”

  “Natalie—who’s that? The lady that took you in?”

  “Yeah,” answered Blythe.

  “How did she know?”

  “It’s a long story. So long that I just got the other half of the story from Fredo the other day. The short answer is that Natalie worked as a nurse at the hospital where I was born. She said that the doctors lied and told my mother I died at birth. I guess they saw dollar signs and wanted to cash in. Jacked up, huh? Natalie basically rescued me. The rest is history.”

  Sefira’s face screwed. “And you believe that?”

  Blythe threw a hand up. “Well what else am I supposed to believe? Yeah, it sounds nuts, but seeing as how I have powers and all and the Feds are after me, I’m inclined to believe her.” Gesticulating wildly, she continued, “You were there. You saw that thing they sent. It wanted to haul me in.”

  “Yeah, I did.” Sefira reflected upon the incident. “I’m just not sure that the government is capable of engineering something like that.”

  Blythe sighed. “Me neither. So, if not the government, then what?”

  Sefira’s eyes met hers. “I don’t know.” They both sat still for a while.

  “Tell me more about you. How long have you been a freak?” Blythe asked rather matter-of-factly.

  “We’re not freaks, OK? Just…different.” Kicking at the snow, she continued. “This stuff is new to me. Just started a couple weeks ago. Weird little nuances at first, and now things seem to be progressing rather quickly. Now that I’m sitting here talking to you, a lot of things are beginning to make sense.” She paused. “I think I know someone who may be able to shed some light on things.”

  Blythe’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

  “My mom.”

  “I thought you said you were a foster kid?”

  “I am, but I know who my birth mom is. Her name is Delilah Rebeaux. Last I heard she was committed to a psychiatric treatment facility somewhere in North Carolina.”

  “A psych ward? Wow.” Blythe swallowed.

  It’s funny we’re having this talk. Well, not funny, but you know what I mean.” Clasping her hands together and leaning on her elbows she continued. “I’ve been struggling with the idea of getting in touch with her. I mean, so much happened—she hurt me, you know? I felt like she just left me so I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. But, I’m realizing that I need her.” Sefira sighed and picked at the bark on the log. “I feel horrible now. She used to tell me stuff—I thought she was a lunatic.” She shook her head. “I should have protected her.”

  “You didn’t know,” said Blythe.

  “Yeah, but I did know she was my blood. The only blood I’ve got. That should have been enough.”

  Blythe grew qui
et chewing on her lip.

  “Is there something on your mind?” Sefira asked.

  “Nope.” Blythe stood up. “What are we sitting here for? Let’s find her.”

  “Let’s find her, huh?” Sefira stood, dusting the snow off her bottom. “Ten minutes ago you wanted to string me up, and now you want to take vacays together? I guess that means we’re cool? No more rumbles in the snow?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” Scratching her head, she nodded towards Sefira’s blood-stained t-shirt. “Some, uh, ice and bandages ought to take care of that cut too. I can fix you up if—”

  “I’m good,” said Sefira. “This,” she pointed to her shoulder, “I can live with. But all the questions rolling around in my head, I can’t. Besides, I probably won’t have to live with this for long. I’ve been healing pretty quickly these days.”

  “Yeah? Me too,” said Blythe. “So how long you think it’ll take before you’re ready to go?”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Blythe shrugged.

  “I’ve got to do a little more homework first. I don’t exactly know where she is.”

  “Do you have any identifying info?”

  “I have her social. She gave me a copy to keep just in case.”

  “That’s all we need. I have a friend who can hack into anything. If anybody can find her, he can.”

  “Is that how you got into my phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “If I get you the info., how long do you think it’ll take for him to find her?”

  “How long do you think it’ll take for you to get ready?”

  “That fast, huh?” said Sefira. The realization that this could really happen began to dawn on her and she felt a bit apprehensive. “More than likely, we’re going to need money to catch a flight.”

  “Uh hello, I can orb,” said Blythe making a “duh” face.

  “Oh yeah.” I’m beginning to see that face a little too often. Sefira scratched her head. “I’m not sure that whole orbing thing is for me. It felt weird.”

  “It’s just like that the first time. You have to get used to it. I tried it on Fredo a couple of times and he wanted to kill me at first, but after that he said it wasn’t bad,” said Blythe.

  “In that case….”

  “What are you doing after school?”

  “Besides track, nothing, why?” answered Sefira.

  “What time is track over?”

  “Around 4:30-5:00, but there’s no way I could go anywhere and stay after that. Celeste will start wondering what’s going on and I don’t want her to know.”

  “Celeste is your foster mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then skip track and come with me. I’ll make sure you get back in time.”

  “For what? What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to find your mom, that’s what. Baby steps first, though. There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

  Sefira pursed her lips. This girl really thinks she can do this. I guess it’s as good a shot as any. It would never occur to her to skip school or track, but it wasn’t like she was doing much running these days. Before she knew it, she found herself saying, “Sounds like a plan. Can you meet me in the quad around three?”

  “For sure. It’s been enlightening, but we both better get back. You more so than me.” The girl disappeared then reappeared with Sefira’s backpack.

  “Wait, don’t just leave. I need you to take me ba—” That was all Sefira managed to get out. The girl grabbed her hand and she was immediately whisked into darkness. Again, she floated, only this time her experience was short-lived. Within seconds, she appeared at the school. It took a minute or two for her to get her bearings, realizing that she was behind the math building. It was so strange. The music, the idle chatter, the warmth of the sun. It was as if she never left. She flinched at the sound of the lunch bell. It was time to go to class. People scattered like ants, gathering their things and slinging backpacks over their shoulders. Sefira’s eyes darted, threading through the crowd. Blythe was nowhere in sight. Her whole popping in and out thing is really getting annoying. A wind gusted past her cheeks and in it she heard, “Don’t be late.”

  Track Is This Way

  The bell rang and Sefira headed straight for track. Armed with a slight limp and an apologetic look, the Coach immediately discerned that there was a problem.

  “You reinjured yourself? How’d you do that?” He was holding a clipboard in hand, and upon seeing Sefira he placed his hands on his hips, feet spread apart. Power pose. Coach wasn’t happy.

  “I was playing basketball with my brother, and I made an awkward turn…,” Sefira answered.

  Coach stroked the whiskers of his mustache. “Let me guess. You’re going to have to miss the meet this Saturday?”

  “Coach, I’m sor—”

  “We were really counting on you to participate in this meet against El Monte.” He tapped his clipboard rhythmically against his side. “The runner who never runs,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head disdainfully. “I’m beginning to wonder how seriously you’re taking this.”

  “I don’t know what to say—”

  He cut her off again. “Giselle,” he barked. Sefira glanced over her shoulder to see her favorite person sighing already. Giselle grabbed a towel and a bottle of water and walked over. “Sefira’s out of the 440. That means you’re in. Same goes for the relay.”

  Giselle shot daggers in Sefira’s direction. “Glad to do it Coach, a couple more wins under my belt never hurts. But I have to ask, why is she even on the team? She’s absent more than she runs.”

  “I’m on the team because the team needs me.”

  Coach outstretched a hand, indicating they needed to slow down. “Hey, hey. I don’t know what the problem is between you two, but I’m not havin’ it on our team. I’ll bench you both.” Giselle rolled her eyes and walked off. Coach continued the conversation with Sefira. “Giselle has a point. You’re good, but nobody’s above the team. If you want to be great, you’ve got to practice, and you’ve got to show up at the meets. I know we have some time before track season officially starts, but we do what we do because it makes us that much better than the competition. We’re serious here.” He sighed, swiping his brow. “Why don’t you take a little time off and reevaluate whether you really want to be a part of this team.”

  “Seriously, Coach?”

  “Seriously.” His glasses slid to the end of his nose.

  “Okay.” Sefira proceeded off the field. Well, guess it worked. Hope it doesn’t cost me my spot.

  Grass squished softly behind her, prompting her to turn around. “Hey, where you going?” Kaetano asked, as he approached. “Track is this way,” he joked, pointing behind them.

  Ugh, I was hoping to avoid this. “I know. I just have to think about some things.”

  “Really?” He swiped at the back of his neck with a hand towel. “Where are you headed to now?”

  “Home.” Sefira kept walking, continuing to feign a slight limp. “I, um, reinjured my leg so I don’t know, Coach thinks I should reevaluate things.”

  “Really? I’m sorry to hear that you’re hurt. Maybe I can give you a ride? There’s something I’d like to tal—”

  Not now dude. “—I’ll be in touch.” Sefira said, cutting him off, albeit with a soft smile.

  “Okay.” He studied her leg as if he could see right through her. “Catch ya later.”

  “Bye.” Sefira turned back around and headed for the quad, where she found Blythe leaning against a locker.

  “You ready?” asked Blythe.

  “Yeah.”

  “Who was the hunk?” Blythe asked, lips pursed.

  “You spying on me?”

  “Who needs to spy? You could see that piece a mile away.”

  “No comment.”

  They walked around the corner, pausing until other students passed. “Let’s go.” Blythe put her hand on Sefira’s shoulder, and they evanesce
d.

  They materialized in what looked like the kitchen of a small duplex. Light beamed in from a nearby window, spotlighting the dirty dishes that sat in an 80s style ceramic sink and an equally old looking electric stove and yellow fridge. An oblong blue-tinted glass table with mismatched chairs was beside them and it sat upon cheap linoleum flooring. The kind Sefira hadn’t seen the likes of since the days she used to move around with her mom. The house reeked of something sour. Like old, microwaved food and cigarettes. “Excuse the house, it isn’t exactly Better Homes and Gardens.”

  “No problem. Where are we?”

  “This is my place.” Blythe waved a hand. “Here you have the kitchen, where at any given moment gourmet meals are being conceived and executed.” Sure enough, the remains of a microwaved turkey pot-pie sat on the kitchen counter. She gestured toward another room. “Over there you will find our living room, which provides a perfect view of the neighbor's backyard as well as the crack in Ms. Zoila’s butt as she tends to her garden.” Beyond two, small brown couches, a large rectangular window was situated beside the front door. Tan curtains were pushed aside, revealing the lady presumed to be Ms. Zoila tending her backyard. Her short, rectangular body stood bent at the hips pulling weeds; her sagging pink shorts exposing her rather flat backside.

  “Nice,” said Sefira.

  Blythe continued, “And right through here,” she pointed at the hallway, “you can nestle into one of two luxurious suites graced with a shared bathroom.”

  Sefira didn’t quite know how to respond. “Thanks for the tour.”

  “Anytime.” Blythe smiled.

  “So why are we here?”

  “I want to introduce you to Fredo, my dad. I’m hoping he might be able to help us.”

  “Mind if I sit down?” Sefira asked.

  “Go right ahead and have a seat at the table. Fredo,” Blythe called, pausing then bellowed again. “Fredo!”