Gift of Death (Gifted Book 1)

by Lin Augustine

  “Maybe we should get some more help,” Ron says.

  “I don’t know,” Giselle says. “You didn’t seem to want help the day before.”

  “A lot of people in this town are searching, right?” Iris says, making both Ron and Giselle look over her way, having forgotten she was there. “But everyone seems to be doing it on their own or in small groups. That might not be the most effective way.”

  “Yeah and we all work on our own because everyone here has trust issues,” Giselle says.

  “I think Ron is right,” Iris says. “Maybe if you talk to Carl and the boys—”

  Giselle’s eyes narrow. She stands up and walks down the hall.

  Ron expects to hear the door slam, but it doesn’t. Giselle closes it quietly, which is more unnerving to Ron. It means she was wrong about Giselle. Ron read her to be the kind of person with big, explosive emotions. She likes that kind of person because they’re easier to manipulate. On the other hand, people with quiet restraint are fascinating in their own way. People like Chrys. Ron enjoyed trying to figure Chrys out. But Ron doesn’t need a puzzle right now.

  Iris is still sitting at the table, but she’s not eating anymore. She has her hands in her lap, staring at Giselle’s unfinished plate. This is also quite the puzzle. She figured Iris to be the kind of person who would chase after Giselle.

  “Um,” Ron says, “is Giselle angry?”

  “Yes,” Iris says.

  “Shouldn’t you go talk to her?”

  “She doesn’t talk when she’s angry. She doesn’t listen either. So there’s no point.”

  Iris gets up and takes Giselle’s plate to the kitchen sink. She sits back down and resumes eating, but at a much slower pace than before, and she had already been eating really slowly.

  “Do you mind if I ask why exactly she’s angry?” Ron says.

  “She probably feels like we’re ganging up on her,” Iris says. “That’s not what I intended…”

  Well, at least Ron was right about something. Giselle likes to be right, and she likes to be in charge.

  “Anyway,” Iris says, “I’ll talk to her a bit later. She doesn’t stay angry long.”

  “What will you say to her?” Ron asks.

  Iris sets down her fork. “Do you mind being the bad guy?”

  “In what way?”

  Ron sets down her fork too, since she’s done eating now, but Iris still has a lot of food on her plate when she gets up and brings both Ron and her own plate to the kitchen.

  “I’ll wash the dishes,” Ron says.

  “Don’t worry about it. I like doing it,” Iris says, her back to Ron. She turns on the faucet. “I honestly think it’s best if we get more people involved but it’s also best if Giselle knows I’m on her side. So, ya know, ya could just… go ask other people for help. It’s not like ya need Giselle’s permission. It is your intel after all.”

  “And what will you tell Giselle when she finds out?”

  “That I didn’t know anything about it, of course.”

  “So you’re going to lie to her?”

  “Lying isn’t bad if it’s for the greater good.”

  Ron stares at Iris’s back as she washes the dishes. She really is turning out to be quite the puzzle too.

  “Okay, well,” Ron says, “I’m just going to go for a little after-dinner walk. Don’t mind me.”

  “Enjoy your walk,” Iris says.

  Ron gets up and goes out the door. She pauses at the top of the stairs to drink in the cool summer air. She takes the flip phone out of her pocket and opens it. She looks at it for a while, willing a phone call or text message or something to come. This would be so much more fun if Chrys were here too. Plus, when Chrys is around, Ron has more of a conscience. She can easily imagine Chrys’s objections to Iris lying to Giselle, to going behind her back. And after a bit, Ron would be convinced that it’s wrong too and propose another way.

  But no. Maybe it’s good that Chrys isn’t here. She has a way of doing things the difficult way, the right way. She spent forever trying to persuade Chrys to steal a car, and in the end, Ron did it alone despite Chrys saying no. And look at how well that turned out for them. Chrys got to the camp, like she wanted. If it weren’t for the truck, they’d probably still be walking and hitchhiking across state lines.

  Chrys isn’t here so Ron is going to do this her way. The easy way.

  Ron closes the phone and puts it back in her pocket. She walks down the stairs and on the road that leads out of town.

  The town has no street lights so she’s mostly guided by the lights in the windows. She stops at a noisy building that looks to be a bar or something. Parked outside is a motorcycle. A cherry red Harley Davidson.

  She smiles and heads closer to the bike, peering at the license plate. 3RFP5A.

  She looks into the first floor window. She can see some guys playing pool. One guy is blocking most of her view though.

  If this is a bar, it should be fine. Hopefully, they won’t ask for ID. Ron is legally not supposed to drink, but she has no interest in that anyway. That’s the kind of thing teens who kid themselves into thinking they’re being rebellious and cool do.

  Ron goes up the steps and enters, pausing at the door to adjust her eyes to the bright lights inside. No one seems to notice her.

  Country music blares all around her. Two guys are playing pool near the window like she saw and a couple of other guys are standing around watching with a mug of beer in their hands. The bar is empty except for a bartender who’s cleaning glasses behind it. On the other side of her, a group of six guys are sitting at one table, huddled close, mostly full mugs on the table. Only one guy is talking. He’s holding and pointing at some sort of scanner gun.

  That’s probably Carl.

  Ron goes up to the bar. “Coke, please.”

  The bartender nods. Ron turns her head to look back at the guys at the table while she waits for her drink. They’re all looking at her now. She keeps her gaze on them a little longer, making a point of it, and then turns back to the bartender as he slides a glass to her.

  “Thanks,” Ron says. “How much is it?”

  “First time in Bluewater?” the bartender says. He’s a white-haired, almost bald white man who looks like he’s been behind this bar for ages.

  “Yes, and it’s a pretty nice town. Say, why is it called that? I haven’t seen any water around,” Ron says.

  The man chuckles and then shrugs. “Never thought ‘bout it before.”

  Ron points at the Coke again and opens her mouth but before she says anything, the man interrupts.

  “First drink is on the house,” he says. “Shame ya chose something so cheap.” He laughs again.

  Ron laughs with him and then takes a sip of the Coke. Ah, so sweet. Ron is grateful for Iris cooking and all, but if she had to complain about something, she’d complain about the lack of dessert after dinner. Last night, Ron went back to her room and ate a Pop-Tart. Tonight, this Coke will do. How Iris and Giselle can survive without having something sweet after dinner is beyond Ron.

  “So what brings ya to Bluewater?” the bartender says, wiping down the bar with a cloth.

  She turns her head back to the men at the table. They’ve gone back to talking among themselves, the guy with the scanner thing doing most of the talking.

  “You probably already know,” she says. The country music is loud, but she does her best to make her voice carry. “Just came to look for the camp. Between you and me, I think I’m pretty close to finding it.”

  “Oh yeah?” the man says. “I’ve heard that plenty of times. Doubt it’ll be found in my lifetime though.”

  “Oh I’ll find it,” she says, resisting the urge to look at the table again.

  “Then ya might wanna talk to Carl over there,” the bartender says, pointing at the table. “Maybe he
can help.”

  Glad to have an excuse now, Ron turns her head to where he’s pointing, but they’re still not looking at her. Must be hard to hear her over the music over there.

  “Hey Carl!” the bartender shouts, hand by his mouth.

  The man with the scanner looks over.

  “Got another searcher over here,” the bartender shouts. He chuckles and then goes back to cleaning glasses.

  Carl stands up and walks over to Ron, bringing the scanner with him. He has such a dad vibe to him—neatly slicked back blond hair, square jaw and stomach larger than his narrow shoulders, made protruding from his blue polo shirt. But at the same time, he also strikes Ron as the kind of guy who never had kids and doesn’t want them anyway.

  When he’s close to her, he points the scanner gun at her, looking at the screen. It makes some kind of ding. He puts his arm down.

  “What is that?” Ron asks.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Carl says.

  Ron groans internally. So immature for a guy who looks old enough to be her father.

  “Anyway,” Carl says. “Just stay out of our way and you’ll be fine, little miss.”

  Ron puts a finger on her chin and then points it at the scanner like she’s just had a realization. “Oh, is that the thing I heard about? The thing that can detect the gifted?”

  Carl narrows his eyes and puts the scanner behind his back. “Who told you about that?”

  “I’m not one of them, you know. I hope that thing is accurate.” She turns away from him and cradles her drink with one hand. “Eh, it probably doesn’t work anyway.”

  “It does work!” he says. “I know you’re normal.”

  Ron smiles a little, taking a sip to conceal it. This guy is so full of himself. He’d be easy to cozy up to—just gotta stroke his ego—but she’d rather not. She stepped into this bar with the intention of asking for his help, but now, she understands why Giselle spoke about him like that. She’ll just tell Iris and Giselle later on that she decided not to ask him, but that means she has to come up with a different plan now.

  Ron turns back to him, holding her glass. “Oh yeah? How would you even know that it works for sure?”

  “I’ve tested it. It works.”

  “On who? There a gifted person in this town?”

  Carl’s eyes open wide for a split second and then narrow again. “I don’t gotta prove anything to you. Stay out of my way.”

  He turns to go back to the table.

  “Yeah well, just make sure you stay out of my way too,” Ron says. “Don’t need a delusional ‘genius’ like you ruining my search.”

  He turns back to Ron. “Delusional?” He shakes the scanner in Ron’s face. “This works, okay? I’m not delusional.”

  Ron gives him a pity smile. “Sure it does, mister.”

  She turns back to the bar.

  “Hey Carl, she’s just a kid, man. Don’t let her get to you,” another guy says. Probably someone from the table who came over.

  Carl huffs. “I’m not letting her get to me. Whatever. Let’s get out of here. We’ve got important things to do tonight.”

  The two of them leave, and Ron assumes the rest of the table does too, but she doesn’t bother looking over to confirm.

  Important things, huh?

  Looks like she won’t be going home just yet.

  Chapter 15

  Li returns to the hexagon room from the door to her office, making me jump.

  “Let’s go have brunch. I’ve called a meeting,” Li says, like it’s no big deal that she scared me or that I’m still in this room.

  “Do I have to go?” I say.

  “You don’t have to do anything. But what? You aren’t going to eat then?”

  I put an arm around my stomach. I am feeling pretty hungry, since I only had some garlic bread last night for dinner. Now that I think about it, I should have gone earlier, as soon as brunch started. Then I might have run into just a few people.

  “Are you coming or not?” Li says.

  I’ll just go for the food.

  I stand up.

  Li walks past me and out the door that leads to the hall. I follow after her, out of the Main House. Some sleepy-looking kids and teens are dragging themselves from the cabins to the pavilion behind the kitchen. When we get to the kitchen, it’s pretty quiet. Looks like most still haven’t gotten here yet.

  Perfect.

  In that case, I might be able to scarf something down and head out before it gets crowded and the meeting starts.

  On the table are large heated pans of scrambled eggs, French toast and bacon. Li goes before me, putting mostly French toast on her plate, then she heads out to the tables.

  I’m kind of tired of all the bread I’ve been eating lately so I just take one piece of French toast, and fill up the rest of my plate with eggs and bacon. I hurry outside to the tables and stop short right outside of the door.

  The tables are mostly empty still, but Hunter is sitting at one of them with the kids from Cabin 2. He doesn’t seem to notice me.

  I sit at a table closest to the kitchen door, my back to Hunter and the kids. I eat quicker than I ever have before. It probably only takes me like five minutes to eat. I do my best not to look up every time the door opens so I don’t have to see how they look at me, but I can tell the tables are filling up more and more. I still feel kind of hungry by the time I’m taking the last couple bites of eggs but decide not to risk getting more food.

  I stand up with my plate.

  The door opens in front of me and out walks Remington.

  He smiles. “Oh, hey Chrys.”

  I look around, hoping no one has heard him. Has his voice always been so loud?

  Hunter is looking up at me now, but luckily the kids with him are still busy chatting among themselves and eating.

  “Uh, hey,” I say, and then hurry past Remington.

  “Going back for seconds?” he asks.

  I ignore him and walk into the kitchen. I put my plate in the big tub by the sink and go out the door. I almost bump into a kid who’s coming in.

  “Jesus,” he says. “You scared me half to death, Grim Reaper.” He laughs, pushing past me.

  I swallow hard, rooted to that spot. From here, I can see the whole camp walking towards me from the cabins. There’s no way I’m going to walk in that direction.

  I’ll have to take the long way.

  I turn left, into the forest, and walk towards the Main House, around the perimeter of the camp. Walking towards the pavilion would have been shorter, but I’m worried someone might hear me creeping around in the forest.

  After about fifteen minutes, I make it to the back of Cabin 10. No one is out and about anymore either, so I walk around the cabin to the front, shoulders finally relaxing a bit. I’ll be able to be alone and think for at least a half an hour.

  I go up the steps and through the door.

  My breath is caught in my throat. Valeria is sitting on my desk chair with the chair facing towards Hunter’s bed. She’s hunched over with her head in her hands.

  She looks up after I enter and then stands up. She hurries over to me. Her dark circles are larger. Her eyes are wide and unblinking.

  “Chrys, the future changed,” she says, grabbing my shoulders and holding me at arm’s length. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  I pull away from her, backing into the door. “What are you talking about?”

  “Adrien,” she says. “I saw his whole life, Chrys! He was supposed to leave the camp when he turned eighteen to move to France to study baking and…” She covers her mouth, hyperventilating.

  “So you can see the future,” I say.

  “Yes, I can see the future!” she shouts. “Is that all you’re getting from this, Chrys? This is wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen! But y
esterday… his future—everyone’s future—just… shifted.” She jabs herself in the chest several times. “It’s all my fault. It must be.”

  “No, Valeria, it’s not your fault—”

  “I’m the only one who can change the future like that, Chrys! The future doesn’t just shift. It’s set in stone. Unless someone interrupts the flow. Someone who knows, who knows what’s going to happen. And yesterday, I told you… something I shouldn’t have, and now everything’s going to shit!”

  I think back to yesterday, confused.

  “Are you talking about the game yesterday?” I say. “When you told me Elise was talking in my head?”

  Her eyes open wider. “Yes! I don’t know why I said that, but I shouldn’t have. It shifted your whole future. You weren’t supposed to find out until later. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.” She sinks to the floor, covering her face with her hands. “And now Adrien’s dead because of me.”

  I sit on the floor in front of her. “Look, Valeria. I get that you changed my future or whatever, but that probably has nothing to do with Adrien. It was just a tiny thing, what you told me. I doubt it affected much.”

  “You don’t even know,” she says, her voice shaking. “It’s so different now. Everything is. I’m so sorry.”

  “How is it different now?”

  “If I tell you that then it’ll just change again, for the worse. It always changes for the worse. Always. Always. Always. People think they want to know the future, but they don’t. Because that knowledge, that expectation—it changes everything. It changes how you act and what you say. Even if you’re trying to get the same outcome. Because instead of doing what you’d naturally do, you start doing the things you think you should do. And that changes the outcome. The only time I’ve ever seen the future shift like this is when I get involved. When I blab about something I shouldn’t have.”

  “Okay, you don’t have to tell me the future or anything,” I say. “But still, I don’t think this is entirely your fault. And even if… maybe what you said did lead to this, it’s not like you did it on purpose. It was an accident.”

  “It must be nice, Chrys. Being in control of your gift. I wish I had something even close to that. Sure, I didn’t do it on purpose. But what’s the point of seeing the future like this? I can’t control the future. All I can do is just see it. If I try to change anything and use my gift in any way, it just makes everything worse.”