Strength

by Jane Washington

  “She looks really bad,” Emmy sobbed.

  I nodded slowly. It was the truth. She looked dead already, and maybe she was. Maybe the signs of life we saw were just the last-ditch attempt of organs to keep blood pumping. Maybe there was no saving her. But I had to try.

  “What are you going to do, Will?” Emmy’s words were no louder than a whisper, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off mum even once since reaching her side.

  “I might have some healing abilities,” I admitted. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I have to try.”

  I closed my eyes before anyone could say anything else. I had no idea what I was doing—the last time it had just happened, coaxed out by my Abcurses, but this time I was on my own.

  Heal, please. I willed my mum to heal, sending forth my intentions, the way I had with Yael. The energy swirling inside of me expanded, until it felt like my skin was heating from the inside out.

  “Something’s happening,” Emmy said, startling me.

  It was enough for me to lose that focus, and I opened my eyes, hoping that Donald would be sitting up, smiling, awake. Anything.

  My heart sank … she looked the same.

  “What was happening?” I asked Emmy.

  “Your hands were glowing,” she said, blinking at me. “But … the glow didn’t sink into your mum. It just kind of hovered over her, like it didn’t know how to break through whatever spell is on her.”

  “Staviti’s energy is hard to best,” Cyrus said from where he had perched himself against a nearby wall. “His energy keeps servers animated—you’d have to bust through it first before you could reach your mother’s energy.”

  My eyelids slammed shut. Staviti was not going to win this one. I would not let him.

  Heal. Heal. Heal. I chanted those words over and over, the energy picking up even more heat as it swirled harder and faster inside of me.

  “Willa!”

  Emmy’s shout startled me again, but this time I didn’t mind, because I was about half a click from setting my mum on fire. I jerked my hands back and the small flames that had been filling them died off in the same instant.

  “Your energy was responding to your anger,” Cyrus told me, stepping closer for the first time. “I think it might be best to leave your mum for now. She is stable. You need to figure out your gift, first. Then you might have a chance at saving her.”

  I wasn’t sure I trusted Cyrus’s advice, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

  “So, you think I should just leave her? What if she gets worse?”

  “If she gets worse,” he told me, “you can try again. Until then, you need to focus on figuring out exactly what your powers can do. You need to train yourself.”

  I made an angry sound. “I don’t have time for this. I have research to do.”

  Emmy interrupted our argument. “Maybe you can do both. Research the fallen monarchy and explore your powers at the same time. There is record of gods, sols, and their unique gifts.” She lifted her gaze to Cyrus. “You have a copy of that tome, right?”

  He shot her the smile again. I flinched, but Emmy just raised one eyebrow, her focus steady. “It might be in the library,” he finally said. “So hard to know when you can’t read.”

  “I’ll be there,” I announced, turning on my heel and heading out of the room.

  It didn’t occur to me until I was at the doorway that I didn’t actually know where Cyrus’s library was—or even that he had one there on the mountain. I paused, glanced back, and opened my mouth to ask.

  “I’ll show you,” Emmy said, a wry smile twisting her lips.

  “Wait.” Cyrus had a strange look on his face as he switched his attention quickly from Emmy to me.

  Even though he had asked us to wait, he didn’t follow up that command with anything further, and eventually Emmy turned to face him, an inquisitive look twisting her features. They stared at each other for an oddly long amount of time. Not a word passed between them, until I finally cleared my throat.

  “I haven’t allowed anyone else in there,” Cyrus finally admitted, though he seemed to be talking to Emmy.

  Emmy didn’t reply. I walked back to her side, peering at her face. She swallowed, her eyes on Cyrus, and for the first time since I had known her, she actually appeared vulnerable.

  “I don’t want to break up the unspoken moment,” I announced uneasily, glancing between them. “But can this maybe wait until later?”

  I wasn’t even sure that they heard me—they were too busy staring at each other, Emmy looking all vulnerable and Cyrus looking all vulnerable and my mother looking all comatose.

  “Will it help if I solve this little conundrum right now?” I asked, still receiving no response. I sighed, moving to stand directly between them. “Okay, here’s the situation. Cyrus, big scary Neutral God, thinks that Emmanuelle, lowly dirt-dweller, has a really nice butt.”

  Emmy blinked, switching her gaze to me for the barest moment.

  “And Emmanuelle kind of wants Cyrus to be touching all her stuff even though she complains about it, which means she kind of likes him—”

  “I don’t,” Emmy interrupted, colour rising in a sudden flush through her cheeks. “Like him, I mean,” she added hastily. “I don’t like him.”

  “She does,” I argued, rolling my eyes at Cyrus, who seemed to be coming out of his trance and was now just staring at me in confusion. “And you like her,” I told him.

  “No, I don’t,” he argued. “She’s annoying.”

  “How annoying?” I goaded.

  “So annoying.”

  “So annoying that you want to kiss her?”

  He frowned, pressing his lips together, refusing to reply.

  “So annoying that you want to maybe see her naked?” I continued, enjoying the way his eyes flared for an instant. “Yeah, I thought so. Can we consider this moment dealt with now? Can I see the secret library?”

  He scowled, flicking his hand. “You may borrow the book, but you may not enter the library.”

  “How is she going to get the book, then?” Emmy asked, folding her arms over her chest.

  “I never said that you couldn’t go into the library,” Cyrus grumbled, pushing past us and leaving the room. We stood there in shocked silence.

  “He likes your butt,” I told my sister, when it seemed like she wasn’t going to stop staring after him.

  She shook her head, striding for the doorway in a strikingly similar manner to Cyrus’s recent exit. “I’ll get you the book and meet you back in your rooms.”

  “Thank you,” I told her, before catching her arm and drawing her into a hug before she could storm off. “Thank you for everything.”

  She relaxed for a moment, wrapping her arms around me, and then she sniffed and drew back, her eyes flicking to my mother.

  “You need to find a way,” she told me. “Your mum might know something about what you are. She might be the missing piece in all of this.”

  The missing piece.

  I stared after Emmy as she walked away, her words echoing in my head. I had thought that I already knew who the missing piece was, but Emmy was right. If anyone knew what made me different, it would be the woman who gave birth to me.

  After a few clicks alone in the room, with my mother unresponsive on the bed and the view of the ocean lulling me into a false sense of calm, I finally roused myself into action, leaving the healing ward and heading in the direction of the god-residences. I waited in the rooms for Emmy to bring the book—a tome as big as my head—and then I hurried back to the training alcoves, where I found each of the Abcurses huddled together in one of the small rooms, their sols gathered in another. I waited in the entry for an extended click, wondering what was happening. The sols seemed to be arguing, the Strength student gesturing wildly toward the Abcurses, the Seduction student speaking back in a low tone, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

  I approached the circle of Abcurses, squeezing between Yael and Siret, until I was in the centre
of them.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered, as a quietness settled over our huddle, each of their eyes flicking down to me.

  “Something isn’t right,” Aros murmured, the gold in his gaze swirling lightly. “Staviti’s energy is all over this place. It happened suddenly, while you were gone.”

  “What?” I backed up a little, but only managed to bump into Coen, whose hands landed on my shoulders, spinning me around.

  “We were debating whether we should get you out of here or not.”

  “I can’t leave, not until I’ve found a way to heal my—”

  “You won’t be any use to Donald if you’re the reason Staviti has come down to the Peak,” Yael interrupted. “He hasn’t shown himself, hasn’t announced anything to the sols or gods. He’s hiding his presence.”

  “Where are the ...” I trailed off, repeating the question inside my head, directing it to the five of them. Where are the chains?

  Coen swore, pulling me forwards—though he turned at the last moment, propelling me ahead of him, his hand switching to the back of my neck, directing me to the doorway.

  “We need to make sure he didn’t come for them,” he announced, the others following closely behind us.

  “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE,” one of the girls screeched, forcing our group to halt and our heads to turn.

  It was the Trickery sol: her purple hair almost seeming to stand on end in agitation.

  “We aren’t learning anything,” she spat, the others fanning out behind her. “This is bullsen shit. You five are supposed to be helping us become better, but you’re too busy babysitting this dweller slut—”

  My hand was suddenly before my face, my palm facing out, and power was surging down my arm. Maybe it was the stress over my mother, or the possibility that Staviti might have followed us out of Topia—that he might have allowed us to take the chains into Minatsol only to sneak after us and steal them back. Or maybe I just didn’t like being called a ‘dweller slut’. Whatever the reason, my power was suddenly exploding into the world, and it was too late for me to stop it. The Trickery sol was bent over, her hands covering her face, a scream floating back to where I stood.

  I rushed over to her, guilt flooding into me and snapping my energy back into my body with a heavy pull that had my head spinning. My legs were shaking as I bent beside her, my hand on her shoulder. She flinched away from me, and the Seduction and Strength sols crouched beside her, drawing her back from me.

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to get close again, but the Trickery sol kicked out at me.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!” she shouted, though her voice was strangely muffled.

  “I don’t even know what I did,” I pleaded, searching her body for scorch marks, or any sign of fire damage.

  She lowered her hands from her face, revealing two blood-shot eyes and a ...

  “Well … I did not expect that.” Siret was behind me, his voice somewhat amused.

  “You ... oh.” That had come from Rome, also sounding amused and a little horrified.

  I swallowed, torn between an absurd urge to laugh, and an even stronger urge to cry. A strangely manic emotion was trickling through me—possibly a result of the sudden rush of power and adrenaline, but just as likely a result of the absurd vision before me.

  Dickhead.

  I had been thinking it just a micro-click before I lashed out at the girl, along with a range of other insulting curses. I had been thinking it, and then ... I had manifested it.

  There she stood: purple-haired, red-eyed, with a penis protruding from her forehead. A real, live penis.

  “How do you know it’s alive?” Siret was really enjoying this moment. I could already tell I’d improved his sun-cycle immensely with my ability to make a literal dickhead.

  “I don’t know!” I exclaimed. I was squinting at it, trying to see if I recognised it.

  I was hoping that it didn’t look like it belonged to any of my guys. It was too small to be Rome’s, and it wasn’t anywhere near as nice-looking as Siret’s or Yael’s.

  “Nice looking?” Yael choked out.

  “You mean you ... you ... manifested a cock, and it isn’t even one of ours?” Coen’s tone was hard, almost pissed-off.

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” the Trickery sol screamed, her hands darting up towards the thing dangling from her face.

  Every single one of us flinched.

  “Oh gods.” The Strength sol had her hand over her mouth. She looked a little sick. “Please stop touching it.”

  “Why?” The Trickery sol was growing pale, her eyes widening in panic. “Is it doing something?”

  “It’s not doing anything,” I assured her, even though I was actually avoiding looking directly at it. “But still probably don’t touch it. You might get pregnant ... and I think that would make me the father of your baby.”

  The sol began to wail, then. Long, loud, and mournful.

  “Ahhh.” I broke away from the guys, kneeling in front of her again. “Please stop, just let me try to fix it, okay? I’m sure I can.”

  “Really?” Rome asked from behind me, sounding doubtful.

  “Shh!” I shot him a look over my shoulder, before re-focussing on the sobbing girl. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t aware that this was something I could do. I mean, they don’t exactly teach you about penis-manifestation in the dweller schools. It’s more about cleaning and bowing and scrubbing pans. Will you let me fix it?”

  “FIX IT!” she screamed in response, her hands balling up into fists.

  “Alright, jeez. Calm down, it’s just a penis. We all have them.”

  “You do?” the Seduction sol asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

  “Well yeah,” I waved a hand behind me. “I have theirs. So technically I have five of them. But that’s not really important. Can you please take her arms so that she doesn’t punch me?”

  The Seduction and Strength sols obeyed, and I suspected it was mostly because they also didn’t want to suddenly gain dangly bits from their faces. I held my hand out again, palm facing outward, my eyes closed.

  Neuter, I thought, my face scrunching up in concentration. Neuter her face.

  Behind me, there was a crash, and I opened my eyes in shock, my gaze whipping back to Siret and Aros, who were leaning on each other, their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle the laughter that had begun to shake their entire bodies. I scowled, glancing over at Rome, who had fallen onto one of the couches, laughing. The thing seemed to have cracked apart beneath him.

  “So immature,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and then turning back to refocus.

  “Says the girl currently trying to neuter someone’s face,” Aros shot back, laughing even harder.

  “Like you five haven’t ever made any mistakes!” I closed my eyes again, turning my palm up one more time.

  I need to fix this, I told myself, drawing in several deep gulps of air.

  “Oh hell no,” someone muttered—one of the students. It was a small, sweet voice. The Persuasion sol, I thought.

  “What?” I replied, keeping my eyes closed and my concentration locked onto the task at hand.

  “I looked at it,” she moaned out in regret. “It has purple hair on it.”

  I shuddered, shaking my head. “No. No. No. Don’t say that while I’m sitting this close to it. I’m trying to fix it. Stop distracting me!”

  “Wait!” one of them said loudly. “It’s changing. I think it’s getting smaller!”

  “You should leave her with a little bump,” Siret suggested, as I attempted to double-down on my focus and tune them all out. “Leave her with a reminder of the fun time we had here this sun-cycle, so that she can always remember you fondly. Willa Knight, the dweller with the cock power.”

  A tickle of laughter built up in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it back, working instead to focus the power flooding down my arm, fuelled by panic and nervous energy. I needed to fix this. I needed to prove that I could do more than set things on fir
e and break people. I needed to prove that I could control something. Anything.

  “You’re doing it, Willa-toy.” Yael was beside me, the laughter gone from his voice, his breath tickling my ear. I could feel the heat of his body curling around me as he crouched just behind me, his hand on my arm. “Keep your focus. Breathe. Yes, you’re actually doing it.” There was incredulity in his tone, and a sudden silence in the room.

  Elation filled me. With it came a sudden rush of power, so strong that dots of light began to dance behind my closed eyelids.

  “Unbelievable,” Coen muttered, a click before everything went black.

  Fifteen

  “Dweller-baby.”

  There was a voice reaching to me, trying to draw me through a tunnel of immense darkness. I wanted to lift my arm—to reach for the voice. It was smooth, deep, familiar ... but my arm was too heavy.

  “Sweetheart.”

  A different voice this time. Huskier. It reminded me of burnt sugar plants, and I finally managed to blink my eyes open a little bit. The room came into focus slowly, beginning as a hazy blur before gradually solidifying into solid colours and shapes. I was in our bed. There were two thick thighs on either side of my body, a muscled torso behind my head, and a golden arm wrapped around my waist.

  “You’re awake.” I turned toward Aros’s voice—he was sitting on the bed beside whoever’s lap I was cuddled in.

  “Hi,” I croaked out. “Did I make it go away?”

  He cracked a smile, his eyes lightening to a pale gold, only a few little tendrils of green visible.

  “You made it go away,” Coen’s voice replied, the chest behind me rumbling with the words.

  “Where are the others?” I asked, tipping my head back against his chest to see his face.

  He glanced down at me, his touch shifting so that his hands were at my waist, lifting me up a little. Suddenly, my lips were only a breath away from his. He had been about to answer my question, but his movement seemed to shock both of us. The words died on his lips before he even had a chance to speak them, and his eyelids dropped down, his gaze lowering.