Gift of Death (Gifted Book 1)

by Lin Augustine

  “I’ve had tons of crushes, girl. And tons of unrequited ones too. It just makes me feel sad for Hunter, that’s all.”

  “You’re just assuming things.”

  “So are you. His gift is to sense emotions, not yours. And since he knows you don’t like him, he’ll never tell you, now, would he?”

  Ron’s serious expression keeps me silent. I suppose it is possible that Hunter could like me, but it just doesn’t make any sense to me. I’ve never understood romance and crushes and stuff like that. It’s just not something I’ve ever had an inclination towards and I’ve always been well aware of that, feeling like something is wrong with me because of the way everyone else around me seems to be so obsessed with it. I always thought Ron and I were similar in that way, but I guess I’ve just been oblivious to her feelings too.

  I remember looking it up and reading about something like that on a website—aromantic asexual, they called it. Someone who lacks romantic and sexual attraction. I don’t really know if that’s what I am, so I’ve never mentioned it to anyone—even Ron—but it seems the most likely. Or maybe I’m just too distracted and focused on myself to form a crush on someone. I don’t really know.

  I feel kind of guilty now about Hunter. Should I ask him about it? Would that just make things worse?

  Ron sits on the edge of the bed so I sit next to her.

  “You know,” Ron says, “speaking of gifts…”

  She pauses as if waiting for me to object, but I don’t say anything. Still, I know where she’s going with this and I want to stop her but I shouldn’t. Ron has the right to ask.

  “I was just wondering,” she says in a low voice, “what yours is.”

  “I haven’t told you because I don’t want you to change your opinion of me.”

  “Chrys, nothing can change the way I think of you. You’re my sister.”

  I scoff. “Even if I can kill people?”

  “Kill? You’re joking, right?”

  “I wish. I can touch someone and they’re dead in an instant.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nod.

  “So that’s what the gloves are for,” she says. “So if you touch me right now, I’d just drop dead?”

  “No, it doesn’t really work like that anymore. I have some control over it, I think. But I don’t want to risk it so I just never touch anyone. I don’t want to kill anyone. I would never do that on purpose. You know that, right?”

  “I know that. Of course I know that.” She sighs. “But I get why you wanna get it removed now. That sounds awful.”

  “It is,” I say, my voice shaking.

  Ron pushes my head down so it’s leaning on her shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  “I know,” I say softly. “But I’ll come back soon.”

  “Yeah.”

  We’re silent for a moment. Ron’s shoulder is warm beneath my head.

  “Give me the letter,” Ron says suddenly. “The one for Giselle. I’ll put it under the door or something after you leave.”

  “Oh, sure. Thanks.” I sit up straight and take the envelope out from my tote bag. I hand it to Ron.

  She looks at Giselle’s name written on the envelope with wide eyes. “Wow, this handwriting is beautiful.”

  “Yeah, Remington is into that sort of thing.”

  “Hunter said his name is Remy.”

  “Well his full name is Remington.”

  “You should stop calling him that. I think he’d like it if you called him Remy.”

  “I don’t wanna call him by a nickname.”

  She chuckles. “You say that like it’s poison or something.” She puts a hand on my thigh. “By the way, Chrys, you do not what his gift is, right?”

  “Remington’s? I don’t know exactly but judging by Giselle, I’d say it has something to do with fire.”

  Ron nods. “Yeah, Giselle told me the story. Remy burnt the house down as a baby, killing their parents and wounding Giselle.”

  I laugh dryly. “Just an average day for a gifted child.”

  Ron’s expression grows grim. “Do you have experience with that kind of stuff?”

  “I mean, a kid with deadly powers and no understanding of how to control it? Of course. A lot of us are like that, even Hunter.”

  “Hunter? But he can just sense emotions. How is that dangerous?”

  “He can manipulate emotions too. Turns out that over time, it can have grim consequences due to repressing their true feelings.”

  “Doesn’t that mean he can make you fall in love with him?” she says with knitted brows.

  “Sure, I guess, but I doubt he would do that.”

  She gets up from the bed with a sigh. “Just be careful with him. He’s kind of scary, now that you say that.” She goes to the side of the bed and lifts our backpack onto the bed. “The ability to change people’s emotions? That’s kind of messed up.”

  “Yeah, that’s why he doesn’t do it anymore. He has control over that, but the sensing emotions thing doesn’t seem to have an off switch.”

  She opens up the backpack and puts the envelope inside. “No offense, but I’m glad I’m not gifted. Sounds like a pain.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, it’s the biggest pain in the ass.”

  She laughs too.

  She takes out my phone charger and my other change of clothes from the backpack. “Here. I know you’re coming back soon, but just in case. This way we can at least talk on the phone sometimes.”

  I take them and tuck them into my bag. “Thanks.”

  “By the way,” Ron says, coming back to sit next to me. “I’m pretty sure that Noah guy is dead now.”

  My eyes open wide. “What? Dead?”

  She nods. “Yeah, but I get the sense that this isn’t over. I overhead Carl talking on the phone earlier. He said something about getting proof that one of his machines work. I don’t know which one.”

  “That’s not good,” I say. “That means he could try to kill someone else using Noah’s gift.”

  “But how is he supposed to do that without Noah?”

  I think back to Li clutching her head and squirming on the floor. “When do you think Noah died?”

  “This morning—maybe eight or nine—around when the power went out.”

  The timing matches up. Li said a gift was removed from circulation just as this Noah guy died and the power went out. If Noah died, his gift should have just passed onto someone else, but maybe it was stolen instead.

  I get up and face Ron, still sitting on the bed. “What exactly was on this laptop? Did you get a look at it?”

  “Yeah, I opened it up. I saw Noah begging some boy to help him. I could hear it too through headphones. The boy told Noah to leave him alone and brought his hands up and some sort of invisible force shot him through the wall.”

  Invisible force? That sounds a lot like Jayden’s gift. “What did the boy look like?”

  She puts a hand on her chin. “Um, blond, like not dirty blond like Carl and Noah, but a paler kind. He looked like a pre-teen, I guess? I didn’t really notice anything else about him.” She puts her hand down and stands close to me. “Why? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking Carl somehow put Noah’s gift into the laptop.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, but I have to tell the others about this,” I say.

  Ron frowns. “You’re leaving already.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

  She smiles sadly. “It’s fine. You’ve got stuff to do, I get that.”

  “And you need to stop looking into this guy, okay? The people at camp can handle it.”

  “But now what are me and Giselle supposed to do? I have these people believing I’m searching for the camp and anything related to gifted people.”

&n
bsp; “Wait. Didn’t you say in one of your emails that you’re staying with giftists? Is Giselle a giftist?”

  “Yeah, seems so.”

  “But her brother…” I don’t bother finishing my sentence.

  It makes a lot of sense, actually, to have a deep loathing for the one who hurt you and killed your parents, and anyone else like him. It’s just like how I’ve never forgiven myself for all the deaths I’ve caused, even though I know they weren’t intentional.

  “Anyway,” I say, “we’ve been hiding out in here for long enough. Let’s go.”

  “Alright.”

  Ron leads the way out of the bedroom and back to the living room.

  Hunter looks up when we come back, relieved. His face is still a light shade of pink. I hope Iris wasn’t torturing him this whole time with questions about our “relationship.”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you two,” Chrys says, “but Hunter and I were just passing through. Figured we’d stop by and see Ron for a bit.”

  Iris frowns. “Leaving so soon? Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’ll make something.”

  “We appreciate that,” I say, walking into the room some more, “but that’s a while from now and we really should get going before it gets dark. But do you mind opening your store for a bit? Hunter and I would like to buy some things for the trip.”

  “Oh, sure thing,” Iris says, standing up. “Just let me get my keys.”

  Giselle digs through her pocket and holds out a ring with two small keys on it. “Here, take mine.”

  Iris takes the keys and holds Giselle’s hand and kisses the back of it, like a prince. Giselle takes her hand back with a roll of her eyes, but she’s also smiling.

  I head over to Hunter. He stands up, not meeting my gaze.

  “Ready to go?” I ask him.

  He nods.

  “We’ll be back in a jiffy, Elly,” Iris says, going to the door.

  “Mhm,” Giselle says.

  Hunter follows Iris.

  I go back to Ron quickly and give her a hug. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” she says softly.

  We let go and I follow after them, down the stairs.

  Chapter 28

  Iris unlocks the door of the convenience store and lets us in, a tiny bell jingling as the door opens. Hunter goes straight to the snack aisle while Iris and I stand near the entrance.

  “Hey, do ya like chocolate, Chrys?” Iris asks.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Elly just brought in a new kind yesterday and it’s so good. Let me show ya.”

  Iris leads me down an aisle with rows of sweet snacks and boxes of chocolate bars.

  The tiny bell on the door jingles. Iris looks back at the front door, but the view is blocked by the shelves.

  “Welcome,” Iris yells with a hand by her mouth. “We’ll only be open for a bit.”

  Iris turns away and picks up a chocolate bar with pink flowers on the wrapper.

  “It’s cherry blossom white chocolate. I think it’s from Japan or something.” She hands it to me with a big smile. “Try it—on the house.”

  I take it and put it in my tote bag. “Thanks. I’ll try it later.”

  A buzzer sounds from somewhere to the side of us.

  I look over. A middle-aged man with slicked-back blond hair is standing in the aisle, holding out some sort of scanner pointed at me, his green eyes wide. It’s the man Ron was talking about—Carl.

  “She’s gifted!” he shouts, staring at the scanner with brows raised high.

  I freeze in place, one hand holding the strap of the tote bag tightly on my shoulder. I struggle to breathe. My heart pounds wildly.

  How much does he know? Does he know what my gift is too? My mind is flooded with memories of bodies slumping to the floor—some my own, some dreams of Vic Blanchet’s.

  “Chrys—” Iris starts to say.

  Carl points at me. “Grab her Iris! She’s one of them!”

  A hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” I say, turning and pushing Iris’s upper arms.

  Cold energy rushes into my hands and up my arms. Iris falls to the ground with a thud, her arm knocking boxes of chocolate bars off the shelves.

  I stare at my hands in horror.

  “What the hell did you do to her?” Carl yells. “What the—”

  “Chrys, let’s go,” Hunter says from behind me.

  I shake my head, still looking at my hands. “I killed her, Hunter.”

  “It’s okay—”

  I whirl around. “It’s not okay! I killed her!”

  Carl is just standing behind Hunter, his arms slack at his side and a dumb grin on his face. I look at him confused, trying to process what’s happening to Carl and more importantly, what I just did.

  “You didn’t mean to,” Hunter says. “And we have to go now.”

  My chest is tight and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “I killed her.”

  “It was an accident. Please, let’s just go back to camp.”

  It’s getting harder and harder to breathe—painfully so. I can still feel the cold energy circulating in my body. Iris’s life force, in me. Stolen by me. A murderer.

  A murderer.

  I can practically see Vic Blanchet’s cruel grin, savoring this moment.

  All this time, I thought I had a semblance of control over my gift, but no. I’m a danger to everyone. I don’t have any control. I—

  A weird sense of calmness starts to creep its way in.

  “Stop that!” I snap at Hunter.

  “Listen, I know this is a lot to process right now but you don’t have to do it now. Just let me calm you down until we get back to camp. We can’t stay here.”

  I grab my head and shake it with eyes closed. “No, no. Just leave me alone.”

  I feel sick and jittery—a nervous, manic energy that makes my thoughts run wild and grim, flashes of memories and horror.

  Death. Murder. Bodies slumping on the ground, disturbingly still. My mom. Those police officers. That cold room where I spent my childhood, locked away from everyone, the only human interaction a gloved hand that slid a tray of food into my room three times a day.

  The tests. The drills. The torture.

  “Chrys!” Hunter yells.

  I open my eyes and wrap my arms around myself, rocking back and forth.

  “Just let me calm you down, okay? Just for a little bit. We have to get out of here before someone comes.” He takes a step forward and reaches his hand out to touch my shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” I say.

  He jerks his hand back. “Okay, I won’t touch you.” He sighs, and after a moment, he says, “It feels awful, doesn’t it?”

  I just stare at him, breathing raggedly. My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest and I can’t stop shaking.

  “Doesn’t it?” he repeats.

  I nod slowly.

  “I can make it go away, for a little while. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  I nod again.

  “Okay, so, you’ll let me…?”

  The calm starts to creep its way back in. It’s so foreign and wrong but I let it blanket my mind. It pushes aside everything—the sickness, the jitters, the memories, the accusations. I can still sense it all beneath the blanket of calm, but it’s harmless, asleep, the details forgotten—just the impression that something is there. And if I just look at Hunter and the world around me instead of inside of my mind, even that weak impression fades away.

  It’s peaceful. I can breathe again. I’ve stopped shaking.

  Hunter sighs deeply in relief. “Let’s go.”

  He holds out his hand and I take it without much thought. There isn’t much thought in my mind anymore anyway.

  He pulls me to Carl and I
follow, looking at the unmoving man with a numb curiosity. Hunter pries the scanner from Carl and hands it to me.

  “Put this in your bag,” he says.

  His words sound like they’re coming through a door. It’s slow to process but eventually I take it and put the scanner in my bag, not really sure what this thing is or why Hunter took it.

  Hunter pulls me out of the store, and then out of town, all the way back to the camp.

  Chapter 29

  Ron is sitting on the couch next to Giselle, watching a TV sitcom on the laptop together. They started watching it soon after Iris left with Chrys and Hunter. At some point, the power came back on because they heard the microwave beep in the kitchen.

  Giselle plugged in the power cord then, and they kept watching the sitcom.

  The episode was about twenty-five minutes long, no commercials. When it finishes, the next one loads automatically but Giselle pauses it.

  She looks to the door. “Why is Iris taking so long? She hasn’t seen this episode yet so I don’t want to watch it without her.”

  “Maybe we should go check on her,” Ron says.

  Giselle nods and gets up. She does a big stretch with her arms over head and then goes to the door. Ron and Giselle walk down the stairs and into the store, the bell jingling.

  “Iris?” Giselle calls. “Are you in here?”

  Giselle goes down an aisle so Ron goes down another. Nothing. So she turns into the next aisle, but stops in her tracks before going down it.

  Carl is standing away from her near the other end of the aisle, looking off into the distance with a vacant smile. Iris is lying limp on the ground, surrounded by chocolate bars.

  “Oh my god! Iris!” Ron shouts, rushing over to her. She sits on the ground and takes Iris into her lap. She puts two fingers on Iris’s neck.

  Giselle comes running into the aisle. “Iris? Carl? What’s going on?” She sits down next to Ron, taking Iris from her.

  Ron lets her fingers slip away from Iris’s neck. She’d felt no pulse. Ron’s throat is dry and she wants to say something but the words can’t find their way out.

  Giselle does the same—puts her fingers on Iris’s neck. She holds them there for a long while, pressing harder, expecting to feel something, her breathing getting more ragged with every passing moment.