Wicked Power

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “No,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to know why you killed them.”

  Van already told me what he said, that he killed them because they had lied to us about beings Godlings. She also told me how agitated it made him to talk about it.

  “I want to know how you knew they were lying. You told Van that someone tried to help you with your hunger before it happened. I want to know who that was and what group they belonged to.”

  “Why?” Oscar asks slowly.

  Knowing that Van has already explained what we’ve been told about Godlings and Eroi, I say, “Because next week Van and I are being sent to a Godling training camp for two weeks. Before I get into a car with them, I need to know whether or not we can trust them.”

  “Two weeks?” Oscar’s eyes widen in panic. “You can’t leave me here alone for two weeks!”

  “It’ll be okay,” I say quickly. “David wants you to come with us. He said he was going to talk to your doctors about it.”

  Oscar pulls against the chains. “I’m not going anywhere with David!”

  “Look, Oscar, I don’t trust him anymore than you do, but Grandma has already agreed to us going to the Godling compound. Short of violence, we’re not getting out of it.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with David! That man cannot be trusted!” Oscar screams, his face beat red and his entire body trembling.

  I hold my hands up, begging him to calm down. “Please, Oscar. The only reason I’m doing this is for Van. I promise I’ll protect her while we’re there. Plus, Ketchup is going, too. She’ll be okay.”

  “How would trusting David help Van?” Oscar demands through clenched teeth.

  “She’s past her birthday,” I say. “Her hunger hasn’t changed yet. I’m worried that when it does, it will be bad. She needs to learn control before that happens.”

  Oscar’s hands clench tightly, but he doesn’t argue this time.

  “Plus, if I can somehow kill my hunger for Ketchup, I can give Van what she wants more than anything else.”

  “A normal life,” Oscar says quietly.

  I nod. “And for now, that means accepting David’s help.”

  “I’m still not going,” Oscar says. The steel in his eyes makes it clear there will be no negotiating. “David will have to figure something else out, and you, little brother, had better keep our sister safe this time.”

  “I will.”

  “You better,” he growls.

  The muttering Oscar begins under his breath in incomprehensible, but I can hear enough to know it is directed at David and my grandma both. I suspect he places a hefty amount of blame on my grandma’s shoulders for the lies we were told and the way we were raised. He has refused to see her since he was committed. He won’t see David either, but that’s not all that surprising. I suppose David will have to figure something out about Oscar. For now, I change the subject back to what I wanted to talk about in the first place.

  “Oscar, it’s important that you tell me about the person who tried to help you. If you expect me to protect Van, I need to know. Were they Godling or Eroi?”

  “Neither,” Oscar hisses. “Not heroes. Not assassins. She was neither, but she was tricky and false. She made promises that she didn’t keep. She said she could help, but all she did was cause more hurt.”

  I try to be patient, but my voice comes out sharp. “Who was she?”

  “Emily Robbins.” His face sours at the mere mention of her name.

  “How did you meet her?”

  The corner of Oscar’s mouth turns up for just a moment before falling back into a sneer. “We worked together at the shelter. She loved animals as much as I did. She knew how to comfort them better than anyone else.”

  “How did she find out about your hunger?” I ask. Despite the unexplained disappearances of several pets in our neighborhood when Oscar turned sixteen, he has always had a passion for animals. I’m sure people would find that hard to believe now, but he was very good with animals and studying to be a vet before everything unraveled.

  Oscar shakes his head sadly. “Animal control brought in an abused Dalmatian. The collar was embedded into its neck, and it was starving. The poor creature was in so much pain, but Emily and I were the only ones there. The vet had been sick for several days. Its pain was so overwhelming to me that I couldn’t leave its side. All I could do was feed.”

  “How did Emily know what you were doing, though? Why didn’t she think you were just upset?” I ask.

  It would be such a small thing for someone to notice, easily passed off. Van has done plenty of more noticeable, unexplainable things, but still no one would come to the conclusion that she is cursed with hunger for pain and destruction.

  “Emily knew because she had seen it before.”

  Confused, I stare at him. I am well aware of Oscar’s feelings about lying, so I know I can trust what he tells me, but if Emily wasn’t a Godling or an Eroi, what was she?

  “What do you mean she had seen it before? How? Where?”

  Staring past me with unfocused eyes, Oscar says, “Emily was very smart. She spent a year in Venice as a foreign exchange student. That was where she met Paolo. That was where she learned about hunger. Paolo told her everything, because he loved her. She said she was scared, but he promised he could control it. He promised he would never hurt her.”

  “But he did hurt her, didn’t he?”

  Oscar shakes his head viciously. “No, he didn’t. He kept his promises, unlike other people.” His face twists in disgust as he glares at me. “No, Paolo never hurt Emily, but someone hurt him. Someone told him they would protect him, teach him to control his hunger, to serve the purpose he was meant to serve. They promised him, but they lied. They lied to him, and then they took his life. They took him from Emily. They hurt her, not Paolo. Never Paolo.”

  That answers almost nothing. It creates a dozen more questions in my mind, and all of them need answers. “Who was helping him? Was it the Godlings or the Eroi? Who betrayed him?”

  Rolling his shoulders, Oscar shrugs as if he couldn’t care less. The darkness in his eyes betrays that casual motion. “Emily never knew. He was sworn to secrecy, promised not to tell. He kept his promises.”

  My teeth grind together at his repetitious accusations. I know I broke my promise to him, to more than him. I need him to put that aside for now and answer my questions! If the Godlings are the ones who promised Paolo help, but ended up killing him, I need to know that! It takes all my self-control to push away my irritation and try again.

  “Did she tell you anything that might help us figure out which group it was? Did she ever mention religion? Did they encourage him to learn martial arts of some kind? Did they ever promise him some kind of power as a reward?”

  Concentration wrinkles Oscar’s forehead. “Paolo was very religious, but I don’t know if that had anything to do with the Eroi. She never mentioned martial arts or any promises.”

  “Why did they kill Paolo? What they were teaching him, did it not work?”

  “That was what was so confusing to Emily. Whatever they were teaching him, it was working. Before they killed him, Emily saw him help a young boy who had broken his arm on the school playground. When they first met, that would have made him lose control, but this time, he kept control and got the boy help without any problem at all. Two days later, they were walking down the street after dinner, someone grabbed Paolo, and then slit his throat.”

  Desperate now for something useful, I ask, “Did Emily see the attacker? Anything that would mark him? Tattoos, piercings, clothing?”

  Oscar’s eyes light up. “A tattoo on his chest.” He points at his sternum. “A squiggle… like a snake. Yes, a snake.”

  Finally, something I can use! It doesn’t help me at the moment since I never saw that much of Ivy, and David is always dressed in slacks and dress shirts. He considers his dress casual if the top button is unbuttoned. When we’re at the Godling compound, hopefully I’ll have a chance to look for the tat
too.

  “I’ll find out who the tattoo belongs to,” I promise Oscar.

  “You better. No more broken promises, Zander. No more.”

  “I won’t. I’ll protect Van, no matter what.”

  Oscar shows teeth when he grins. It isn’t a happy expression. “You better, because my doctors can’t stop talking about how well I’m doing. One day, I’ll escape this prison. I will make you pay if you fail her again.”

  As much as I love my brother, I shrink back in fear. Not only does Oscar never lie, he never breaks a promise, either.

  Needing no further encouragement to leave, I stand and turn toward the door, but I don’t start walking just yet. “Oscar, is it okay if I keep coming to see you?”

  Oscar considers the request before saying, “No more lies.”

  “No more lies,” I promise.

  “Fine,” Oscar says, “but I still hate the taste you bring. It makes me sick. I can taste Lisa’s death on you every time you come.”

  That gets my hackles up more than anything else he has said today. I turn to face him without flinching. “And I can taste Mom and Dad’s deaths on you. You’re hardly the one to judge. What happened to Lisa was an accident, and you know it.”

  “At least I didn’t lie about what I did,” Oscar counters.

  I shake my head at him in disgust. “No, you just killed your own parents.”

  Chapter Seven: A Possibility

  (Vanessa)

  My hands twitch nervously as I peek into my English class. Noah is already waiting at his desk. I find it supremely unfair that he looks perfectly calm. I lean back from the window and take a deep breath. It isn’t the public performance that is bothering me. That I can handle. Even though only crazy people actually enjoy public speaking, it doesn’t terrify me like it does some. What has me shivering like a caged rabbit is the very real possibility of utter chaos erupting during our performance.

  It is a feeling that has been plaguing me all morning. I woke up knowing that our scene was going to go terribly wrong. It’s not something I can explain. Just like I know Zander is planning something dangerous that has to do with Ivy, I know this scene is going to turn out badly.

  We’ve worked the martial arts side of the fight for weeks. I know it cold, and it’s very mild. Nothing serious enough to even tease my hunger, let alone launch it into a rage. The speaking part of the fight may be a little rockier since we only finalized it a week ago, but so what if we forget a line? Whatever is behind this feeling, it’s really putting a damper on my day.

  “Hey!” a voice calls out just as a hand slides over my wrist. Startled, I jump, falling back into a defensive stance.

  Ketchup’s laughter edges away some of my nervousness. “Hold up there, Jackie Chan. I’m not trying to attack you. I just wanted to wish you good luck on your project today.” Ketchup pauses to take in my deer-in-the-headlights imitation. “Nervous?”

  If I were asking Ketchup the same question, I’m sure he’d laugh it off and tell a lame joke that would lighten the mood. Me, I just nod like a bobblehead.

  The tenderness in Ketchup’s touch as he slides his hand into mine entices my mind to think of other things, things in no way related to performing a skit with Noah. Without warning, my mind is drenched in the memory of Ketchup’s kiss the day we stopped Zander. My skin seems to hum, but I’m sure that’s just my imagination. Suddenly I am stuck thinking about my visit with Oscar last night after Zander left him, and his incessant questions about the Godling camp.

  I begin to feel lightheaded as my mind is yanked in a new direction. Thoughts jump and dance until landing on the confusing image of Noah and me standing at the front of the class. The fierce anger radiating off the pair of us is startling. Confusion blankets me, and along with it darkness and falling.

  ***

  A strangely claustrophobic feeling snaps my eyes open to half a dozen faces hovering above me. My hands instantly strike out, pushing them away from me.

  “Wait! Van, calm down,” Noah calls out from the jumble of faces.

  He tries to touch me, but it is too much, too close. I try to move back and realize I am lying on the floor. Still, the feeling of being about to suffocate is too intense to ignore. I feel as if I am going to explode if they don’t just get away and back off! This time, nobody stops me when I scramble back up to my feet and dart away from them.

  Mr. Littleton is the first to take a step forward. His hands are held up in a pacifying gesture that I find offensive. I’m not an animal they are attempting to cage. I take another step back to get away from him and bump into someone. Before I can turn around, arms wrap around my waist and hold me carefully, without judgment. My body relaxes into Ketchup’s embrace. Noah is by my side a moment later, which annoys Ketchup, but actually helps me calm down.

  “What happened?” I ask quietly.

  That seems to be the question on everyone’s mind. Ketchup is the one to answer it.

  “You were talking about doing the scene and how nervous you were, and then you started hyperventilating. A minute later, you collapsed.”

  Everyone around me seems to take his obvious lie at face value. Heads nod, and few spectators chuckle at my apparent stage fright. I must not have been out for more than a second if Ketchup didn’t have time to explain before now, but somehow I managed to create enough of a spectacle that my entire class ran out to peep at me. Great. Just great.

  “Sorry,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Are you okay?” Mr. Littleton asks. “You should probably go down to the nurse and have her check you out.”

  “Uh, the nurse isn’t here today,” Ketchup reminds him. “Just the health aid, and she and Van don’t get along.”

  Ah yes, budget cuts. The school district must figure kids only get sick every other day, because that’s all they’re willing to pay to have a nurse on staff. It’s ridiculous, but I’m actually glad for it today. Just like with the health aid, the nurse and I have a rather strained relationship. They both think I’m the world’s biggest hypochondriac due to the times I have been sent to their office for various injuries only to show up completely healed.

  “Maybe I should go get Zander,” Ketchup offers quietly.

  “No! I’m fine, really. It was just nerves or whatever. Public speaking really freaks me out.” I glance around at the faces scouring me for signs of a repeat episode. “Really,” I assure them, “I’m fine. I promise.”

  For some reason, Mr. Littleton looks to Ketchup for confirmation. Noah catches it as well, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps closer to me. Ketchup, on the other hand, turns to look down at me without noticing anything else. His face crinkles as he considers. The way his hand trails along my skin as he turns toward Mr. Littleton doesn’t do much to keep me focused. I feel more than a little awkward stuck between Noah and Ketchup, but I’m willing to let them handle this for a moment.

  “Maybe,” Ketchup says, “I should stay with her for a while, just in case.”

  As Mr. Littleton starts nodding, Noah mutters, “That hardly seems necessary.”

  Noah is ignored by both Ketchup and Mr. Littleton, but not by me. I turn toward him and say, “I’m okay, really.”

  He frowns and steps closer. “Has this ever happened before?”

  I shake my head. Ketchup and Mr. Littleton seem to have come to some kind of conclusion by then and both turn back to me. Ketchup glares at Noah’s nearness. The blatant back off in his expression gets ignored by Noah. Stuck between them, I slowly pull myself out of Ketchup’s grip and step away from them to get some breathing room, which earns me frowns from both guys.

  Finally, Mr. Littleton steps up and breaks the tension. “Class, take your seats. Just a case of stage fright. Everything’s fine.”

  Annoyed students mutter as they walk away. Ketchup takes my arm gently and starts pulling me toward my usual seat. Noah stalks after us, only pausing for a moment when Mr. Littleton pulls out his phone. It only takes our teacher a few seconds to send hi
s message and look back up. His attention is directed to Ketchup first.

  “I let Mrs. Schwartz know you’re in my class. Just check in with her later for any assignments you might have missed.” Then he turns to me. “Miss Roth, you and Noah will go last. If you begin to feel faint again, please let me know and we’ll call your grandmother or brother right away. I’ve made it this far through my career never having to give mouth to mouth to a student, and I would really hate to break that record today. Got it?”

  I nod quickly. If I need resuscitation, it better not be him that gives it to me. Ketchup and glances at me and I blush. I know the exact thought running through his head. He is quick to lean in and whisper, “No way will he beat me to your lips.”

  Stifling a smile, I push him toward my seat. Noah sits down next to me in his usual seat, watching Ketchup through narrowed eyes at seeing his levity. There isn’t an empty seat nearby, so Ketchup settles in on the floor next to me instead. He seems perfectly content using his backpack for a pillow as he leans against the wall. Noah still looks unconvinced that I’m not going to collapse again. I see him slip his phone out of his pocket and hold it discretely under his desk. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.

  R U really ok?

  My fingers type a swift reply.

  I’m really fine.

  What happened?

  Panicked.

  Why?

  Old habits. Never fought in front of people before. Grandma would freak!

  It’ll be okay. I’ll be right there with you.

  I know. Thanks, Noah.

  Noah offers me a quick smile before slipping his phone back into his pocket and forcing his attention up to the students getting ready for their scene. I have every intention of following suit, but another buzz stops me. This one’s not from Noah.

  You’re not getting out of explaining what just happened.

  Like he even needed to say that. I know, I type back to Ketchup. If he can’t corner me during school, I have a feeling he’ll be waiting in my tree later tonight. For now, I block out the bizarre experience and watch the equally strange scenes created by my fellow classmates. Most fly by with mumbled words and barely comprehensible themes. A few show some talent for either writing or acting, but rarely for both at the same time.