Gift of Death (Gifted Book 1)

by Lin Augustine

  “Yeah, do you have those, too?”

  She nods. “Have you ever seen how he died?”

  “No, but I’ve read about it in the paper. I usually just dream about… him killing people.”

  She lets go of her fork and looks me in the eyes. “I’ve noticed something, about the dreams. They show us what they want to—what they think is important for us to see.”

  “So you’re saying Vic Blanchet thinks it’s important for me to see how much he loved killing people?”

  “Yeah, because he wants you to follow in his footsteps. Don’t you get that vibe?”

  My stomach sinks. I have gotten that vibe. When I have those dreams, the highlight is always that pure exhilaration of stealing someone’s life force. Vic was a psychopath. He cared more about his next hit than the lives of others. It was the only thing he lived for. It’d make sense that he wanted me to pursue that too, trying to enlighten me about the pleasure I could have if I just did what he did.

  “Why does that matter though?” I say. “Is that the secret?”

  She shakes her head. “You said my gift sounds like a lot. That’s because it is. It’s not one gift.” She sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s two. They were twins—both born gifted—and they died in the exact same moment. That’s the only thing they ever show me—them dying.”

  “So, one could see the future and the other one…?”

  “The past. I don’t know anything else about them. Just that they were killed.”

  “Killed? By who?”

  She shrugs. “I kind of get the sense that they want me to find out, but I don’t know how. I’ve done my best looking into it, but I can’t even find out who they were. Maybe if I were a police officer or something, I’d have better luck. Anyway,” she stands up with her plate in hand, “I told you it was something impossible. One gift, one person. Seems like a basic rule, right? But no. Honestly, I don’t even think there are rules. Maybe we’re just trying to force gifts into some sort of comprehensible box, but I don’t think they’re meant to fit in there, you know? Anyway, I have to go now. Laundry duty. But hey, thanks for letting me tell you. Kind of feels good to not be the only one to know anymore.”

  She smiles and then with a serious expression, she says, “Bye, Chrys.”

  “Oh, sure. Bye.”

  She heads into the kitchen.

  I finish eating, thinking about what she said. No rules. It does sort of seem that way. The gifts don’t really make any sense. Maybe that’s why Madeline Taylor was so keen on trying to figure out her limits. She never did, though. She just discovered she could do more and more things, until she died. Is that how all the gifts are? No rules, no limits?

  I shudder at the thought of what that might imply for my own gift. No limits to how I can kill people. Great.

  I put my plate away in the kitchen and head back to the cabin. Remington, Hunter and Ana Maria still look like they’re asleep, Hunter having gone back to bed before I went to the computer room earlier.

  After climbing up my bunk bed ladder, I crawl under the covers, unable to stay awake any longer. Maybe Carl will only be searching for me at night, since that’s when people usually sleep, right?

  Trusting that, I close my eyes and fall asleep within minutes.

  Chapter 33

  Ron sits on the edge of the bed in her room, Giselle laying in it with the covers up to her neck. Giselle refused to go into her and Iris’s bedroom.

  It’s dark outside now.

  Ron is no longer in the store but she can’t stop playing it over and over in her head. Ron and Giselle had spent a long time on the ground with Iris’s body and Carl standing there dumbly. After hours, perhaps, Ron finally snapped out of her thoughts. She shook out her sleeping legs and called the police.

  The sheriff—a short white woman in her fifties or so—came about fifteen minutes later. She asked us what happened to Iris and to Carl, who she also tried to question many times but he just smiled back at her. Giselle said nothing, so Ron had to tell them that they don’t know what happened and they just found them like this.

  The sheriff called for an ambulance and after what seemed like forever, two came. While she waited, it sounded like she also called for a medical examiner or someone like that but it seems like the closest one is in the next town over hours away.

  They wheeled Carl away into one of the ambulances and it drove away, the other ambulance hovering outside.

  The sheriff pried Giselle from Iris’s body and had the body put in a bag and into the ambulance. Then, it drove away too.

  She tried to question Giselle again but she just sat there, the tears no longer flowing but her face looking like she’s still crying. She moved on to Ron, and Ron just told her what she said before—that they don’t know what happened, and that she’s not sure about Carl but it looked like Iris had some sort of medical issue. Ron had looked to Giselle then, expecting her to interject and say that can’t be possible because Iris was very healthy, but she didn’t. She just stared at the ground blankly.

  The sheriff told them they’re free to go but not to leave town until the autopsy results come out in a day or two. She left and so Ron hoisted Giselle up and practically carried her upstairs. She tried to bring her into their bedroom but that was when she spoke for the first time, saying, “No. Not there.”

  So Ron brought Giselle into her room, where they’ve been ever since. Ron isn’t sure if Giselle is sleeping or not but she’s very still.

  Ron gets up from the bed and leans over Giselle. “Giselle, are you hungry?”

  Giselle opens her eyes and shakes her head.

  “Okay, well, I’m going to get something to eat.”

  She nods and closes her eyes again.

  As Ron turns away from her, she sees her backpack on the ground near the bed. She takes it with her into the kitchen, putting it on a chair.

  She pours a bowl of cereal and milk and then pulls out the letter Chrys gave her from her backpack. The envelope seems homemade. There’s just a small piece of tape keeping it closed.

  She sits down in front of her bowl. She carefully peels back the tape and pulls out the folded up paper inside. It’s just one small page written in neat cursive. She reads it as she eats.

  Giselle,

  I’m sorry for everything. I understand if you hate me. In fact, you probably do, right? But, I just wanted to let you know that what I did still haunts me to this day, as much as it probably haunts you.

  I never intended to hurt you or mom and dad. I haven’t hurt anyone else since. I have control over it now, so I’m not dangerous anymore, I promise.

  I’ve been staying in the camp and they taught me how to control it. The people here are really nice and have been very good to me.

  I really want to talk to you, Giselle. One day, I’ll visit you in person.

  I wish only the best for you,

  Remy

  Ron folds the page back up and puts it back in the envelope, smoothing down the tape. She puts the letter on the table and continues eating.

  She knows she shouldn’t have read the letter but she wanted to check if it’s something that would have upset Giselle more or not. It seems fairly innocent so, after washing her dishes, she goes back into the bedroom and rests the backpack against the bed.

  “Giselle, I found a letter by the door for you,” Ron says, holding out the letter to her.

  “It’s probably a bill. Just leave it on the table.” She turns over so she’s facing away from Ron.

  “I really don’t think this is a bill. Your name is handwritten on the front. The envelope looks homemade too.”

  Giselle sighs and sits up. She takes it with an annoyed expression. Holding it in her hands, she looks at her name written in calligraphy with furrowed brows.

  “I don’t know anyone who can write like this,” she says.<
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  Then she turns it over and opens it. She reads the letter, her eyes scanning it quickly.

  She crumples up the paper and envelope together and throws them on the ground. She lays back down away from Ron, pulling the covers to her neck.

  “Who is it from?” Ron asks.

  Giselle sighs. “My stupid brother.” She throws off the covers and sits up again, glaring. “Can you believe him? He has some nerve coming here. Saying he wants to talk and he’ll come again. I don’t want to see his stupid face. Not now, not ever. When did he even come here, huh? Was he here when Iris…? Do you think he had something to do with it?”

  Ron sits down on the edge of the bed. “Well, there were no signs of fire anywhere so I doubt he was involved. The letter wasn’t there when we came in earlier so he must have left it fairly recently.”

  “Just because there was no fire, doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved. I mean, he claims he has control over his gift now. He could’ve gotten his other idiot buddies to come over and harm Iris.”

  “But why would he do that? He said he wants to talk. Sounds like he wants to be on friendly terms.”

  “Or, he could be threatening me.”

  Ron shakes her head. “I really don’t think so. I think it’s just a coincidence.”

  She lays down again in a huff and pulls the covers all the way over her head. “Then what happened to her, huh? What happened? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t know either. But she had no wounds or anything like that. It seems to me like it could have been a health issue. Did she have any health issues?”

  Giselle is quiet for a bit. Then, she says in a low voice, “Well, heart disease and diabetes does run in her family but Iris was healthy. And whose family doesn’t have those issues these days, you know? And what about Carl? How can you explain him? It’s like he was brain dead.”

  “I don’t know but maybe the sheriff has more information about him by now. Do you want me to call her?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  Ron gets her phone from her pocket and dials the sheriff’s number.

  “Sheriff speaking,” she says, picking up almost immediately.

  “Oh, hi, yes. This is Ron, from earlier.”

  “Ron, I’m afraid we don’t have the results of Iris’s autopsy yet. I’ll call you tomorrow when the results come out.”

  “Okay, thanks. I was also wondering about Carl? Do you know what happened with him?”

  She sighs. “Well, he came to an hour or so ago. Just demanded to be released and said he didn’t know what happened. We had no reason to keep him—he was healthy and passed the psych exam—so we let him go.”

  “So he doesn’t know either?”

  “Doctor said he might’ve just went into shock when he saw the poor girl die. I’m thinking her time just came early, you know? Poor thing.”

  Ron nods. “Yeah, that might be it. Thank you.”

  “No worries.”

  The sheriff hangs up.

  Ron turns to Giselle, still buried under the covers. “Carl is back to his senses. Says he doesn’t know what happened either. The sheriff will call me tomorrow after they finish the autopsy.”

  Giselle doesn’t reply, so Ron goes out of the room and closes the door behind her. She goes to the living room and lays on the sofa. It’s far too small for her but she makes do by curling her legs in.

  She opens the laptop, the episode of the sitcom they were watching earlier still open. Ron lowers the volume and then presses play.

  Chapter 34

  The foster home.

  Ron and I shared a bedroom with just two twin-sized beds and an almost empty closet in it. The room was always clean more so because of a lack of stuff to clutter it with, rather than us being conscious about being tidy.

  Ron and I are sitting on my bed. This is when I first told her about the camp.

  Then, that image fades and now I’m in some sort of basement with unruly shelves lining the walls, an empty mattress on the floor and a laptop on a table next to it.

  Carl is sitting at the table, looking at me.

  “You stole something from me,” he says.

  My heart pounding, I shake my head, backing away. I hit into a shelf.

  “Where is my scanner?” he says.

  “I didn’t take it,” I say, my voice small. “The police probably did.”

  He narrows his eyes but then strokes his chin, as if he hadn’t considered that before.

  I swallow hard. “H-how are you doing this? How are you in my dreams? Noah is dead.”

  He frowns at me, his gaze hard. Then he gives the type of smile a know-it-all gives when someone asks a dumb question. He pats the laptop, which is closed. “Technology. You all think you’re so special with your dumb powers. Technology is the real gift. I can do things you can’t.”

  Keep him talking. I just need to keep him talking. And maybe I can wake myself up before he tries to kill me.

  “Like what?” I say.

  Wake up. Wake up.

  He smirks. “I can tell if you’re gifted or not.”

  “We can all do that too. We can sense it.”

  His smile falls. “Yeah, well, can you channel someone else’s gift?”

  When I furrow my brows, he says, “Didn’t think so.” He snickers. “I can my brother’s powers with technology. That’s something you and your kind could never do.”

  I shrug, trying to look nonchalant despite my heart pounding and my throat feeling more and more constricted. “Maybe someone somewhere has the ability to do that.”

  Please, wake up.

  “Yeah but you don’t,” he says.

  “Okay, sure I don’t.”

  “I saw you kill Iris. You just killed her with a touch. That’s your gift, isn’t it? I should upload yours too.”

  I want to back away even more but I can’t, already pressed up against the shelf. “So what if I killed her? You killed your brother, didn’t you?”

  He glares at me. “That was an accident! He wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to kill Iris, so we’re equal.”

  He scoffs. “Oh, please. I know you meant to kill her. I saw your dream last night. You love it.”

  “That-that wasn’t me in the dream. That’s someone else. Besides you say you’re going to ‘upload’ my gift—whatever that means. And then what? Use it to kill people? How does that make you any different?”

  “I’d only kill people who deserve it. Gifted scum like you!” He raises his arm, pointing at me. “Get over here!”

  Against my will, my body flies towards him. He grabs me and then some sort of band materializes around my head. He sits down at the laptop and opens it.

  I try to pry the band off of my head but I can feel something deep in my skull, tugging, attached to it.

  Hunter, please wake me up. I’m panicking. Can’t you feel that?

  “If I do this in the dream, it should come true right?” he mutters to himself as he taps away on the keyboard. “That’ll be the proof I need that it works.”

  My head aches, like something is dancing around and stomping all over my brain.

  I can reach him from here, and he’s wearing shorts too. I can just touch his leg and make this end.

  I reach out, my finger just next to his leg. He’s so engrossed in the laptop that he doesn’t even notice. I just have to touch him.

  Just touch him.

  With a sigh, I drop my arm. No, I can’t. I just need to wake myself up.

  My energy feels like it’s being sucked out of me rapidly. My vision starts to blur and double.

  Carl claps, a huge smile on his face. “It’s working! Almost there…”

  Ron said in her email that Noah’s life seemed to be connected to the laptop somehow. If I disconnect
the cord, will I die in real life, or will I wake up?

  My body is weak. I can barely lift my arm now.

  I have to act now, while I still have the strength.

  Whether I die or wake up, either is fine with me.

  I yank out the cord.

  Chapter 35

  The next day, Ron sleeps in until noon and then goes to check on Giselle. She knocks on the door. No answer.

  So, she opens it slowly.

  Giselle is sitting up in bed looking at Remy’s letter. It looks like she had smoothed it out as much as she could, but it was still bending and curling with creases.

  Without looking up, Giselle says, “When do you think he’ll come back?”

  Ron enters the room fully, leaving the door open. She sits on the bed.

  “I don’t know,” Ron says.

  Giselle puts the letter on the end table. “I don’t want to be here when he comes back. I don’t want to be here a second longer, in fact.”

  “What about the store and this house?

  “That, and this—” she gestures to the room, “It’s all Iris’s.”

  “Yeah but as her wife, it’s probably yours now, right?”

  She buries her face in her hands. “It doesn’t feel right, Ron, to just… take all of her things. And how am I supposed to live here with her gone? The only reason I’ve been staying in this town is because of her.”

  “I thought it’s because you were searching for the camp.”

  She throws down her hands and slumps against the headboard with a sigh. “I was just keeping myself busy while Iris was minding the store. I mean, I do want to know where it is but I never honestly expected that I’d be the one to find it. And now that I know for sure my brother is there… I don’t know. I just don’t want to have anything to do with it anymore.”

  “But you said you always suspected he was there.”

  “It was a suspicion but I didn’t honestly believe that.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Anyway, I’m just going to try and sell the house and store to Agnes and Bill next door. They tried to buy the store off Iris at one point. Maybe they still want it.”