Wicked Revenge

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “I went to confront Mom and Dad, make them tell me the truth. They kept us from help, but trained with David, who trained Godlings to kill. When I went home, he was there, and they tried to give me to him. They were willing to let him turn me into a killer. I broke apart. I didn’t mean to hurt them, but I let my anger and fear feed my hunger. I just wanted to push them back, get away, but my hunger escaped, accidentally…I let it take control of me, it was too much. I wanted David dead, but he escaped and they didn’t. The pieces that tore from me will never grow back.”

  The room is quiet. Too quiet. Zander sinks back into his chair. One hand covers his face, but he still doesn’t speak. Why doesn’t he say anything?

  “The rogue, what did he say when you talked to him?” Zander asks. His voice is calm, but his hand is a fist. Is he angry? Will he hit me? Maybe he should.

  “He said he must meet Van first.”

  Zander’s brows bunch together. “Van? Why?”

  “Because he agrees with Isolde. Van is the Gift, and they want to see both groups destroyed. They will only help if she is what he thinks.”

  The fist Zander was holding, loosens, but only so he can drag his hands down his face. “We can’t dump all of this on her. It’s not fair. She’s barely holding it together as it is.”

  “It is not our choice. She is who she is.”

  “But where is this miraculous gift?” Zander snaps. “I agree it’s probably her. It’s not me. My regular gift won’t even wake up and be useful.”

  “It’s not me.” I shake my head. “That I am positive about.”

  Sighing, Zander looks much more tired than usual. “We can’t pin the fate of an entire war on her ability to wake up some dormant gift that might not be anything more than a hokey fairytale.”

  I understand. It’s too much. Unfair. Van shouldn’t be responsible for so much. Not when she’s so fragile. “What choice do we have?” I ask myself as much as Zander.

  His answering grunt is laced with frustration and fear. “When do they want to meet?”

  “This weekend.”

  “Do we tell Chris?” Zander asks.

  I think he trusts Chris more than I do, but there is heavy hesitation in his voice. It’s not just my mistrust that makes my decision. “Not yet. He’ll want to come if he knows. The rogues won’t trust a Godling. They may run. Abandon us. Maybe tell him after. I don’t know. Van will decide.”

  Zander doesn’t look pleased with that, but there is no other option. The Godlings are weak. The best escaping to carry on David’s evil. Or dead. James is dead. He was a small missing piece. Too evil to tear away much. Those that are left need help to face the Eroi. I know that. Zander knows that. Van will too.

  Feeling less uncertain than before, I let myself exhale, a portion of fear leaving me along with the breath. Zander seems to do the same. He stands and approaches me. His eyes are different, younger, more vulnerable, like before he thought he knew everything and controlled his own fate. They are the eyes of the brother I left behind what feels like a long time ago. He approaches me, hesitant, eyes down.

  “I miss Mom and Dad all the time,” he says, “but I don’t blame you like I used to. Not just because of what you said tonight, either. Blaming you was easier than trying to understand why. It kept me from looking for the truth. I was scared. I hated you for a long time, but not anymore.”

  I feel caught, locked in place, frozen. He looks up and meets my gaze. Fear stronger than what I felt facing David tightens my chest.

  “You’re my brother, Oscar. I love you,” he says, “and I forgive you.”

  I think he tries to say more, but I crush him in a hug that leaves him breathless. The missing pieces seem smaller as his arms tighten around me.

  Chapter Eleven: Last Chance

  (Zander)

  There are so many things wrong with this situation, I’ve been on the verge of pulling out since we got in the car. Now, standing next to Van and Oscar, we watch a lone man approach from across the empty parking lot. Van’s body is completely rigid. Coming without Ketchup was almost a deal breaker for her. Whatever calming effect he has on her, she needs it more than ever. Oscar was insistent. This rogue leader or emissary, whatever he is, wanted to meet with the Roth siblings. No one else.

  In caparison to Van’s tense posture, Oscar leans against my truck, picking at his nails. Emily living new school, even if only temporary, has been good for him. Oscar’s mind seems to stitch itself back together a little more each day. That in no way means he’s close to where he was before killing David, but his moments of focus last longer and his thoughts don’t swim around quite as much in between those moments. All the drugs and treatments they forced on him, and forgiveness was what he really needed most.

  The rogue nods to Oscar when he finally reaches us. His gaze sweeps over me in a cursory glance before landing on Van. “It wasn’t easy to get the others to agree to this meeting,” he says, still staring at Van.

  “It wasn’t easy to get me to agree with it either,” Van drawls. Her eyes narrow at the man and she folds her arms across her chest.

  “I apologize for insisting you not bring your boyfriend.” He really does sound regretful, which is odd, but he continues on with barely a pause. “It’s nothing against Ketchup. If fact, many of my group would like to meet him eventually. He’s a unique young man to survive in this world so well.”

  “What do you know about Ketchup?” Van demands.

  She’s focused on protecting him, but I have another question. “How long have the rogues been watching our family?”

  He tips his head in Oscar’s direction. “Since his birth. Well, a little before that actually. Near the midpoint of your mother’s pregnancy, your grandmother contacted us.”

  An uncomfortable heat settles in my chest and my jaw tightens. “Why does that not surprise me?” I shake my head, not interested in an actual response to that question. I have too many other more important ones. “Why, then, if the rogues have been watching our family for so long, have you just been sitting on your asses this whole time? Why not step in and help us when David showed up? What the hell did my grandma get in contact with you for if not to protect us?”

  My fingers dig into my biceps as I try to rein in my anger and wait for answers.

  The man shakes his head. “Our role was never to protect you, Zander. Not only do we not have the brute strength to go up against one of David’s armies, we weren’t about to reveal ourselves for three kids.”

  “Then why, exactly,” Oscar asks without taking his attention off his fingers, “did Grandma Dearest contact you in the first place? She can’t hold much love for your kind after what happened with her father.”

  The man bristles. “Her father was never one of us. He and his partner were off the reservation, completely. They had zero connection with us until after….” His gaze slides away from Oscar and skims past me, then Van. He’s anxious, but also curious, as though he’s judging what to say next.

  “My tolerance for lies and secrets is at an all-time low,” Van growls, “so whatever you’re debating over telling us, spit it out right now, or I’m done and you all can find yourself another savior.”

  When he hesitates another half second, I push in the direction of where I’m pretty sure his hesitation stems from. “His partner. Who was he?”

  He sighs, giving in. “She, not he.” Running a hand through his hair, his haughty confidence from a few minutes ago has morphed into anxiety that makes me tense. “Your great grandfather came to the rogue group when he first left the Godlings, but it was clear from the beginning that he wouldn’t fit in. Just because our group doesn’t associate with the main group doesn’t mean we don’t have rules and expectations. Running around murdering people and causing terror wherever you go would have gotten him executed just as fast with us as it would have with the Godlings. He stayed all of a week before deciding he didn’t want to be governed by our morals.

  “In that time, though, he’d caught
the attention of a woman, Laura, and whether he simply needed someone to help care for his young daughter or he really developed an attachment to her, who knows. More likely than anything else, he knew he needed contact with another Godling and dragged her along when he left.”

  Oscar finally takes an interest in the conversation, pushing away from the truck and wandering over to the man, circling him well within his personal space. “My lying, deceitful grandmother never mentioned Stepmommy Laura. She’s a liar, though, so…”

  The man ignores Oscar’s closeness and keeps talking. “From what we know, it’s doubtful your grandmother saw her more than a handful of times. Your great grandfather didn’t trust anyone, and kept Laura at a distance.”

  For some reason, he smirks at that statement. This guy looks to be in his forties. Yet his emotional response to talking about this Laura woman makes him seem younger.

  “When your great grandfather lost control to his hunger and started killing people, both the rogues and the Godlings suspected it was him. David found where he was hiding first and turned over the information to the police rather than dealing with it internally, but…” The man shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, in the end, as long as he was stopped.”

  Given that this trip down memory lane seems pretty far from an answer to my original question, on the surface, I begin to suspect the real focus of his story isn’t on our great grandfather. It’s on Laura, though I can’t figure out why. “After the cops killed him and David took in our grandma…” I paused when the man’s shoulders bunch and his hands twitch.

  “The rogues tried to get to her first, but David had more resources and she was gone before they could get her away from him.” He says it apologetically, and for a moment, I can’t help wondering what our lives would have been like had the rogues gotten to my grandma first.

  Shaking off thoughts like that, I get back to the question I’d started to ask. “What happened to Laura? Did she get arrested, too? Killed by David? She’s the one you want us to know about, right? You haven’t told us anything we didn’t already know about our great grandfather. So it must be her you want to discuss. Why?”

  He crosses his arms, but not to be intimidating. It’s another sign of anxiety, which puts me on edge. Oscar’s stance doesn’t change. I’m positive he’s picked up on it as well and is prepared to act if need be. Oscar is always prepared to act. Van seems more confused than anything, not that I blame her.

  “After your great grandfather was killed, Laura ran back to what she knew,” he finally says.

  “To the rogues,” Van says. She shrugs. “What’s so surprising about that?”

  He frowns. “Well, when you take into account the fact that she knew she’d be punished severely for not acting to keep your great grandfather from hurting people, many were shocked when she reached out to a friend and asked to come back.”

  “Why did she then?” I ask. I’m getting tired of dragging this out. He’s clearly got something to say, and I don’t want to spend all day out here. “I’m sure she would have been able to get by bouncing between contacts to avoid the sickness getting too bad.”

  “I’m sure she could have,” he agrees, “for Godling women, there is a particular time in their lives where being in contact with other Godlings on a weekly basis isn’t enough to stave off the sickness and it becomes an almost daily need instead.”

  Van glances over at me, eyes wide and panicked, but I can’t reassure her. My thoughts are bouncing between her and Annabelle, wondering what he’s talking about. If something is going to happen to either of them that requires that kind of constant care, why hasn’t anyone mentioned it before now?

  Oscar laughs. For a few seconds, I think he’s figured out some joke this guy is playing on us, but then he speaks. “She was pregnant, wasn’t she?”

  Van’s mouth drops open. I’m too shocked for even that.

  The man holds onto his stiff posture a moment longer before he lets out a long breath. “If the rogues had gotten to your grandmother before David, she would have been raised with her half-brother, met her nephew and his children, and you three wouldn’t be meeting me as a stranger now.” He sighs at what fate has dealt us, but there’s a hint of excitement in his posture now.

  “I neglected to introduce myself earlier…purposely.” Stepping forward, he extends his hand. “My name is Caleb Roth, and I’m one of many cousins who’ve been waiting a long time to meet you all.”

  Oscar is the only one to step up and shake his hand. Van has both hands speared through her hair as she stares at him. The best I can do is rub my hand across my jaw in shock.

  “Did she know?” Van whispers. “Did she know we had family?”

  Sadness and regret deepen the wrinkles around Caleb’s eyes. “She knew, but not until she left the Godlings. Her half-brother, Martin, tracked her down and reached out, but she wanted nothing to do with the rogues or her father. To her, Martin was a reminder of every awful thing she experienced those first few years with her father.”

  “But…,” Van pleaded, “he was family. Her only family. Our only family.”

  I shake my head. “Telling us about them would have meant telling us about the Godlings,” I say. “Same song, new verse.” Even knowing my grandma is lying in her bed right now, dying, I can’t help the disgust that wells in me. It’s not easy to push away, but I have more important things to deal with than yet another lie from her.

  Finally, I extend my hand and shake Caleb’s. Once we separate, I really look at him for the first time. There are similarities, features he has in common with my dad, even the same tilt to his smile Oscar used to have before he stopped smiling. There’s one thing missing, though. “Why don’t you have the hair?”

  Caleb shrugs. “Whatever gene or ability he passed on to your grandmother, Martin didn’t get it. None of the Godlings,” he says, his voice sneering the word, “that have come from Martin’s line have the white hair. We don’t know what that means.”

  “But you think it means one of us is the Gift, though, right?” Van says, her displeasure at the thought clear in her clipped tone.

  “No,” Caleb says, “we think you have it. Neither of your brothers have it, and neither does Joshua.”

  Oscar flies at him, hands twisting in his shirt and pulling him up onto his toes in the blink of an eye. “What did you say about my son?” he hissed. “How do you even know about him?”

  Instead of panicking, Caleb sets a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “The rogue who reached out to you when David showed up back then, he knew you were struggling to handle everything. He stayed close and tried to watch over you. He didn’t know what would happen that day, but when you went to your parents’ house, his concern for Emily kept him near her instead of following you. Maybe it was the wrong…”

  “No,” Oscar snaps. “Protecting Emily was more important. Always.”

  Nodding, Caleb doesn’t argue as Oscar sets him back down on the ground. “After you were arrested, Logan continued to watch and protect Emily. We’ve been protecting her and Joshua ever since.”

  I’m honestly shocked to see moisture in Oscar’s eyes. His jaw is clenched, but he nods to Caleb before turning away to stare at a plastic bag blowing through the parking lot.

  “Why do you think I’m the Gift?” Van asks after a few long moments. “How’s meeting me going to prove anything? It’s not like you have some sort of Gift detector…right?”

  Caleb smiles. “If only it were that easy.” Shaking his head, he relaxes into a more casual stance. “Meeting you was more about making a connection and finally telling you the truth about our family, but you’re right that the rogues believe you’re the Gift just as much as Isolde does. Why? Because we’ve been watching over you your entire life, and you’ve always been extraordinary, even for a Roth.”

  Van shakes her head, backing up from him. “People keep saying things like that, but where’s the proof? If I were really so special, I wouldn’t be such a wreck, would I?” Her voice br
eaks, but she lets everything spill out. “I wouldn’t make so many mistakes, or hurt so many people. I wouldn’t be on the verge of losing my mind because I can’t compartmentalize what I’ve done and the fact that Grandma is about to die and I might be turning into my worst nightmare because I don’t know who or what I really am! I can’t be the one who’s supposed to fix everything because I can’t even fix myself!”

  Oscar and I both tense as Caleb approaches Van. Her hands are fisted at her sides, but she doesn’t lash out when he grips her shoulders lightly. “Only broken things need fixed,” he says calmly, “and you’re not broken, Vanessa. Your reactions to what you’ve been through are only abnormal in the sense that anyone else would have already been crushed. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, you’ve withstood an amazing amount of pain and shock. Your full power is still so new, yet it’s doing things no one has ever seen before. Don’t be afraid of your own power because of its potential.

  “Yes, you can go the route of your great grandfather and use it hurt people. You can use it kill people who need to be stopped. You can use it to ease others suffering. You can use it become a prima ballerina that will steal the stage and the hearts of everyone who watches you. It’s no secret that our power can be twisted into a weapon, and that for many centuries it’s been necessary to do that in order to avoid eradication,” he says. “What has been doesn’t have to dictate what will be, and you feel that deep in your bones, this sense that there’s something better out there for us, something that doesn’t involve becoming the nightmares you’re so terrified of. All your life, your power has been searching for what that is, waking up long before it should have and seeking for a truth you weren’t even consciously aware of until Ivy Guerra stepped into your world and you rebelled against what the clues were telling you.”