What Gifts She Carried

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  Jo’s face paled while she inspected my skin. “Goddesses, Leigh, what did they do to you last night? It’s... It’s hard to tell with all the bruises and cuts. I guess I don’t see anything.” She ticked her gaze over my shoulder. “But they do. Keep your shirt down.”

  “Yeah, Baxton. Take it all off,” some prick yelled. A herd of boys swaggered out the back door toward the football field. The others whistled or grabbed their crotches.

  Lava streaked under my skin. I tugged down my shirt and closed my eyes while several tools suitable for castration flashed through my head.

  “Jo,” I said, gesturing to the tree, “will you try?”

  She glared over her shoulder. When the boys oozed their testosterone a safe distance away, she attached the ladybug to her flowered top and stepped toward the tree. “They’ll all grow up to be irrelevant anyway, but please don’t kill them with your superpowers.”

  I tightened my hands into fists. “I can’t make any promises.”

  “All righty,” she said and reached up to weave her fingers through the green leaves.

  The ground rumbled. Roots soon broke through the ground, pulled it apart, and curled over the edges of a hole. A curly blond head framed inside the hood of a green sweatshirt poked out. Tram squinted in the sunlight and grinned when he saw me.

  My heart danced. It couldn’t help it. Even with his face more banged up than my whole body, he still dazzled me. I stood like an idiot, stuck to the ground.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Tram climbed out of the hole, his olive eyes never leaving mine, and brushed his hood back. My heartbeat drummed faster as his curls turned in a light breeze.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Jo giggled.

  I forced my mush brain to solidify so I could focus. “Could you not feel me when I touched the tree?”

  Tram narrowed his eyes while I stuck my palm to the bark again. Then he closed the space between us in a snap and ran his fingers under my shirt sleeves. My skin sparked alive with his touch and left me more than a little breathless.

  “Why can’t I feel you?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any bites, I don’t think. Any new ones, anyway.” I touched his chin so he would look at me and stop his pointless searching. “I must be broken.”

  His smile could’ve melted the sun from the sky. I kind of wished it would.

  “Hardly,” he said.

  A hundred wings fluttered in my stomach, but I ignored them. “Someone came to my motel room last night. Someone dead. I could tell by the nasty stink and whispers, but it wasn’t Sarah. At least, I’m pretty sure. I didn’t see anything. And Darby and I had matching bloody noses. And...and somehow I ended up sleeping under the bed.”

  Tram pierced me with his sharp Trammeler gaze, the same one he wore when he was in full-on job mode. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Under the bed?”

  “Yeah, like I was trying to hide from all the nightmares.” I paused, searching his face for answers. “But that’s not the point. I thought it would all be over.”

  “I don’t think it will ever be completely over.”

  Ever?

  My shoulders sagged with the weight of that single word. I’d allowed myself a sliver of hope, had clung to its promise, but now his confirmation fragmented it into a useless pile of splinters. But I couldn’t just slide underneath that pile like I did the bed and wish for the best.

  “I want to help, so tell me what to do,” I said.

  Tram shook his head and looked at the ground. Muted sunlight caught on the stubble around his chin where it reached up like hundreds of small, bristly fingers to capture his blond curls.

  “Ever since you were chosen, Gretchen’s followers began coming here,” he said, reaching out to take my shoulder. “They’re all coming, Leigh. Powerful beings are coming, and I’m trying to catch them. But it would be much too dangerous for you to help.”

  “Then she’s not helping,” Jo said.

  I shot her a warning look. “Hey, I can make my own decisions, and I’d appreciate it if neither of you made them for me. It’s true, I don’t know what I’m capable of, but if someone could show me,” I said and quirked an eyebrow at Tram, “then I could do something useful instead of hiding underneath my bed.”

  “There’s no time to train you. As soon as word spread that you’d survived the night...”

  “Krapper, Kansas became their hunting ground for me,” I finished for him.

  “Something like that, yes,” Tram said. “Did you see anything last night? What did this person look like?”

  “Uh.” I shook my head, trying to pluck the details from the fog. “A shadow. With heavy footsteps. That’s it.”

  “But everyone dead is back in their graves or below my roots,” Tram said.

  “Except Sarah,” I reminded him.

  “Except Sarah.” A crease formed on Tram’s forehead. “Are you sure it wasn’t her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But it didn’t feel like her.”

  I’d grown used to Sarah showing up at my house, and she really did have a certain feel about her—sad, lonely, and more than a little crazy. The dead person last night felt...off. More dangerous. Not Sarah-like at all.

  “You could run, at least for a little while,” Tram said.

  “I’m not running.” Running would only delay the inevitable. After all, it was my mess to clean up. “If you can’t train me, I’ll find someone who can.”

  “You know I would train you if I could,” Tram said. “There are many Trammelers and Sorceresses out there who are on our side, not Gretchen’s. They’re just terrified to admit it for fear they’ll be slaughtered by her cult.”

  “Well, maybe the Counselor could climb up from his holy hell and lend a hand every once in a while. Not like he’s doing anything else ever except beating on you,” I said.

  I sure wished I could reciprocate that beating. If he didn’t convict the Sorceressi to the Core like he was supposed to, then what did he spend his days doing? Taxidermy? Because that would kind of make sense with the whole must-be-dead-to-enter-the-Core thing.

  “Even if you ran, Gretchen’s cult would eventually find you,” he said, then curled his fingers around mine and shook his head. “This never should have happened.”

  “But it did.” I toed the slant of shadow cutting across the grass, separating me from Tram and Jo. “Because of me and my stupid gifts to the dead, not because of you.”

  His gaze tracked over my face then down to his hand in mine, the hard angles of his jaw never relaxing.

  “I can help you,” I said. “Unofficially, of course, so the Counselor doesn’t know about me. You can train me as we go, and if it’s something I can’t handle, then I’ll stop.” I traced a thumb over his scabbed knuckles, lightly so I wouldn’t hurt him. “Please, Tram.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “You know what happened last time an unofficial Trammeler worked for me.”

  I sucked in a breath. Jo winced and scratched the black and white diagonals on her long skirt. Yeah, I knew. But I didn’t understand. My mom had worked for Tram anonymously to locate Gretchen’s secret cult. She found them and was killed in her rush to get away. But even though she was gone, even though she’d kept everything a secret, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride every time I thought about her. Which was all the time. Knowingly going after Gretchen’s cult, whose members were ten straight-jackets past crazy, made Mom the bravest person I knew.

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” I said.

  “I’m not willing for you to take that risk, just for the record.” Jo kicked a rock with the heel of her boot. “Shall we review what happened last night since you’ve obviously forgotten?”

  I frowned. I really didn’t want to do that. “Please, Tram. You need help, so let me help you.”

  Tram let loose an exasperated sigh. “Maybe...we could start slow.”

  My mouth popped open. “Really?”

  “No, not really,”
Jo said and scowled at Tram. “Are you nuts?”

  Tram waved a hand at me and slid Jo a small smile. “It’s what she wants.”

  “So that’s a yes.” Jo worked her mouth as though she was about to spit. Or scream. “Great.”

  “When?” I asked. “Where?” And just as I said it, I hoped with all my might he didn’t say the graveyard.

  He must’ve read my mind because he nodded. “The park. Most of the street lights around it are broken, and no one will see us. Midnight would be best.”

  “Okay.” There was the problem of me being grounded, of course, but I would find a way there. Watching my back and Darby’s while Gretchen’s cult slithered into town trumped all other rules and regulations. No way would I let anything happen to her.

  Tram cupped my cheek. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” I said as the warmth of his hand powered the electric sparks that zipped up and down my back.

  Jo stomped on her rock, clearly not happy with the direction the conversation had taken.

  Tram trailed his thumb across my lips. “Will you behave yourself so the Counselor’s warning bells won’t ring?”

  I nodded, mentally fanning myself to cool my heated cheeks. Despite Gretchen’s entire cult coming for me, he still somehow made my body hum. “Will you?”

  He dropped his hand from my mouth with a shy grin. “Maybe.”

  The bell rang—the school’s, not the Counselor’s.

  “We better go,” Jo said, her voice harder than normal.

  “If she’s willing,” Tram said, glancing at Jo, “have Jo touch a tree if there’s trouble. See you tonight, Leigh.”

  He stepped to the edge of the hole and jumped in. The roots shifted, releasing their hold on the ground, and wormed back inside. The hole sewed itself up with a slight tremor.

  Jo pointed down. “Despite how awesome that was, I’m not willing. And since when do you make every hot male helpless to say no to you?”

  I linked my arm with hers. “You hate me right now, don’t you?”

  “No,” she said. “I just don’t like you.”

  “Whatever,” I said, nudging her with my hip.

  She sighed but nudged me back. “Come on, tree hugger.”

  We plodded to the door, keeping to the shade, and dragging our feet through the grass the whole way.

  BY LUNCH TIME, I COULD barely keep my eyes open. My body ached, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed for at least a year. Adrenaline had fueled my body for days, but now I ran on fumes. Too many things demanded my attention, though. Sleep would have to wait.

  Not like I could actually fall asleep anyway with all the laughter and shouts bouncing across the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to vibrate with excitement about summer.

  I leaned against the cold cinder block wall in the lunch line and breathed in the stink of greasy meat. The noise banged against my skull, making me wince. I bunched up my shoulders by my ears to block some of it out.

  “She looks deader every time I see her.”

  I cracked open an eye. Megan stared at me over Lily’s shoulder with a sneer taped to her plastic, over-painted face. How was it that I always ended up behind these two in the lunch line? The nearby table of boys seemed too preoccupied playing with their corndogs to notice them. That must’ve been why neither of the girls jumped up and down with mock enthusiasm to cheer on the cafeteria crowd.

  “Look at my new nail polish.” Lily waved her hand in front of Megan’s face, but Megan didn’t even blink.

  “Are you dead or are you just a meth-head?” Megan asked.

  “Well, you’re half right,” I said, pushing myself from the wall so I could look at her straight on. “I’m a meth-head prostitute. Just like your mom, only she makes, like, way more money than I do.”

  Megan crossed her arms and tilted up her chin, that same sneer forever stuck on her stupid face. “Real mature.”

  I nodded. “My hard lifestyle ages me.”

  “I cannot wait to—”

  “Megan, you’re next.” Lily gave her a little push forward in the lunch line.

  “Geez, Lily,” Megan spat, but she turned around.

  Lily shrugged. “I’m hungry.” Her blond waves almost hid the pink lily she kept wedged behind her ear.

  I glared at the petals of that fake flower, suddenly just as glad it was almost summer as everyone else. As soon as the school year was over, I would never have to see these two boob-head seniors again. That is, if they were smart enough to graduate. Please let them be smart enough to graduate.

  The lunch lady handed me a greasy tray with a corndog and some kind of breadish dessert with multi-colored chunks in it. It might’ve been a Christmas fruitcake, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I walked my tray out of the cafeteria, careful not to get grease on my black decapitated doll head shirt, the crazy racket thankfully fading behind me. The long sleeves covered my battle scars, though I supposed I really did look dead if my reflection in the car window that morning was anything to go by. I looked like I hadn’t slept in a week. Probably because I hadn’t.

  Rounding the corner, I kind of expected to run into Callum, like I’d managed to do nearly every day since he gave me the lilac ring after Mom’s funeral. It was like he was always there, coming down the hallway with Mr. Mallory, in perfect sync with my trek to the library. Then he’d smile at me, and I swear the Earth would spin faster because of it.

  But today, he wasn’t there. My stomach dropped with disappointment, and then it burned with anger. I’d just seen Tram a few hours earlier, who had exploded sparks through my body. Was I really so selfish that I needed Callum to do the same?

  I sighed heavily. The hallway felt strangely empty. I was used to seeing reporters yap on about dead Sarah or that two other possibly dead people were wanted for questioning in a cop’s death. A few news teams still roamed the streets, looking for those two other dead people. Hurray that they would never find them.

  Ica’s news career was definitely over. Even if I hadn’t turned her into a tree, One and Two had sure done a number on her TV-ready face. They’d taken her teeth and eyes, and put holes all over her skin that puffed black smoke. Yeah, Channel Thirteen news would need to hire some other perky lady for their breaking news reports. Hopefully not another psycho Sorceress.

  I dragged open the door to the library and stopped. Students crowded the small room, stacks of books tucked under chins or spilling to the floor. Ms. Hansen stood behind the check-out desk pointing toward the shelves with one hand and swiping books under a beeping scanner with the other.

  It turned out Ms. Hansen and Mrs. Rios, who were among the few people I actually liked at this school, were also Sorceressi. Another item to add to the list of things to get used to. But not only was Ms. Hansen cool enough to let Jo and me eat in the library, she also read people’s past, present, and future through their hair, even her own. She must’ve been too busy to read hers because her long gray hair was swept up in a bun with a pencil sticking out of the top.

  Jo caught my eye between the jumble of bodies and waved me over. I weaved between everyone and sat at our usual table under the “Be a rebel—read!” poster.

  “I thought I knew everything about you, but I really don’t,” Jo said. “Not only are you a Trammeler Sorceress, you’re also a meth-using prostitute.”

  “What?” I stared at her, wide-eyed.

  She pointed to the line of students then picked at the burnt crust of her corndog. “They were talking about it.”

  I glanced up. Nearly the whole line turned away from me at once, but not before I caught the grins and smirks all over some of their faces.

  “Before you came in, of course,” Jo added.

  “Megan.” I stabbed the stick all the way into my corndog, pretending it was her face that I was spearing. “That conversation happened about ten seconds ago. How did she spread it around that fast?”

  Jo bit into her corndog and made a disgusted face. “This is
high school, remember? Juicy gossip spreads like STDs via one text message.”

  I leaned back in my chair and glared at the shortening line of students, who still had their faces turned away from me. Heat raged in my stomach. “Should I give them a show with my corndog? Live up to the rumors? Come to school tomorrow smelling like cat pee and with black teeth?”

  “No.” Jo grimaced and touched my arm. “You shouldn’t.”

  My eyes burned, and I thought for an awful second I was going to start crying. I’d never thought twice about how people saw me, but exhaustion must’ve been making me sensitive or something. Cue the pity party music because I’d fought to stay alive last night to save the world from a massive Core escape, and this was the thanks I got. I bit down hard on my cheek to keep the tears away and to force those “poor me” thoughts out of my head.

  Jo squeezed my wrist, her brown eyes probably seeing everything that had just flashed through my head. “Leigh?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

  She frowned, clearly not believing me, and picked at her corndog some more. “I think I’m going to get lost on the way home from school today and drop off my recycling petition at city hall. Being grounded sucks.”

  “Tell me how it goes.” I squeezed a huge dollop of ketchup on my tray then stared at my food, not quite ready to take the risk and eat it. I’d grabbed a tray more out of habit than hunger, anyway.

  Once the swarm of students eventually filed out, Ms. Hansen, her hair frizzed and falling out of her bun, plopped in the seat next to us, breathing hard like she’d just run a marathon.

  “Research papers and projects due tomorrow, and these kids suddenly remember they haven’t started yet,” she said. “How about you two? How are you coming along with the end of the year assignments?”

  Jo shrugged and propped her head in her hand.

  “Not well,” I said. It turned out yesterday had been a horrible day to skip school. I was so far behind, my classes had lapped me.

  “With the weight of the world on your shoulders, you have an excuse,” Ms. Hansen said, patting my back. “Let me know what I can do to help.”

  Mrs. Rios burst through the door, glowing with a bright smile despite the gashes on her cheeks and the bandages on her hands. She had almost as many war wounds from run-ins with One and Two as I did.