Wicked Revenge

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “I do trust you,” I say, “and I promise I won’t run off without you.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what,” I repeat.

  Noah blows out a long, heavy breath. “Good, let’s go get some pizza. My brain’s fried.”

  My brain, body, and heart all nod in agreement. I wonder what the chances are of my school getting burned down over night so I don’t have to worry about taking my finals. Probably fairly slim. Sighing, when Noah reaches for my hand to help me up, I take it and drag against him as he pulls. When he gets me to my feet, he pulls me into a hug and I wrap my arms around him.

  “I love you, too. You know that, right?” I ask him.

  His shoulders relax. “Yeah, I do.”

  He keeps his arm around my shoulders as we walk down to meet Ketchup. I appreciate something to lean against, because I feel like I’m going to drop. Caleb wouldn’t let up. Four hours of punching and kicking very piece of boxing equipment they had available. I’d balked at working one on one with him, me kicking the thick pads strapped to his hands, but he’d been relentless, refusing to let me stop until he could feel my hunger and power had returned to a normal level.

  When we walk into the lobby and find Ketchup, he doesn’t comment on Noah’s arm around my shoulders, and simply trades spots with him when I’m close enough. The walk out to the car is quiet. Ketchup seems relieved when I don’t ask to drive. The only words exchanged are when he tells Noah where to meet us. Only once we’re sitting in his car does Ketchup ask, “Everything okay with him.”

  “Yeah,” I say, and he nods.

  I think I doze off for a few times on the way to our favorite pizza joint. Ketchup nudges me after taking the key from the ignition. “If you just want to head home…”

  “Nope,” I say, forcing myself to perk up. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

  He shrugs and gets out of the car. Noah is a few feet away when we make it to the door and Ketchup reaches for the handle. I feel it crawl along my skin before I hear or see anything. Nauseating and disgusting, the cold touch of impending death sends adrenaline and power racing through my body and veins. The emptiness follows close behind, shutting down everything but a single-minded need to stop them.

  My mind is clear and focused as I begin to spin and slide the throwing knives from the sheath case strapped around my ribs. I’m the only one who knew they were there. I see Ketchup’s eyes widen as I raise one. He hasn’t sensed or heard what’s coming in the half-second since I began to react. Panic is filling his eyes, but I don’t react to his fear. It slides past me in the emptiness, and my head turns toward the disgusting, slick emotions of the men who are about to kill us.

  The blade sinks into the first man’s neck before he can respond to my spin and throw. A sickening gurgle bursts from his lips along with a bubble of blood, but my gaze sweeps over him to the next one. I release the second knife as I reach for a third. A body falls, then another. The sounds are hollow in my ears, as though they were made of husks to begin with. They may as well be. A noise to my left spins me around. Another knife is in my hand, but Noah holds up his hands when I face him.

  I stare at him, taking in his wide eyes and racing breaths. Mine breathing is fine, even, normal, despite the initial burst of adrenaline I felt. He’s scared. I’m not sure why. They’re all dead. He and Ketchup are safe. Someone says my name. I turn and see Ketchup approaching me like I’m a wild animal, slow, hands out in front of his body. He pretends to be calm, but I see the same fear in his eyes that Noah held. It doesn’t makes sense. The danger is gone. They’re dead. They’re all dead.

  Dead.

  I killed them.

  I killed all three of them. Without thought. Without making sure. I killed three men. Now they’re dead.

  A spark of something I don’t want to feel threatens the emptiness. I shove it away, but it pulses again. Retreating, I let the emptiness creep in a little more, protect me, save me. It comes faster than I want, than I can handle. It sweeps over and through me, shutting out everything else, every thought and emotion…everything.

  Chapter Sixteen: Escaped

  (Oscar)

  Joshua startles when pounding erupts on my door. He looks up at me, unsure of whether or not he should be scared. I am more annoyed than frightened. Cradling his head back against my chest, I stand with him in my arms. The pounding comes again, but Joshua doesn’t stir this time, even when someone starts shouting.

  “Something happened with Van,” Zander’s voice says from the other side of the locked door. He jiggles the lock, but I’d been trying to put Joshua to sleep and hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. “Open up, Oscar! I need your help!”

  Opening the door, I give him a level look. “I’m here. Quit yelling.”

  “Van, she was attacked,” Zander says before turning back down the hall. He’s know I’ll follow and doesn’t wait for me. “Ketchup’s on his way here. Chris sent someone to the pizza place to get the bodies.”

  “Bodies?” I ask. It’s difficult to know why I’m not worried about Van. Had she been injured or killed, Zander would be more upset and would have led with that. It’s something else. He’s scared, but still unsure.

  Zander grimaces when he looks back at me. “Three, I think. Ketchup was pretty freaked out and wasn’t making a ton of sense when he called.”

  Nodding, we continue in silence. Every step makes my concern grow. I don’t want to upset Joshua, so I continued to pat his back and keep my hold on him gentle. It would be best if Emily took him while I deal with Van. She’s helping with a Godling boy who got hurt while breaking down walls and apparently isn’t very adept at healing himself. She should be back soon, though. Van knows how to heal, very well, so I doubt she’ll need medical attention, but for some reason I think she’ll need some kind of help. I don’t know if Emily will be able to provide it. She knows more about helping animals, but there are days Godlings are more animal than people, and I suspect that may be true of Van tonight.

  We make it to the lobby seconds before the doors burst open and Ketchup appears with Van in his arms. I scan her for injuries, unsurprised when I don’t find any. Noah arrives next and slams the door shut behind him with a backward glance that seems to indicate he thinks someone might be following them. He and Ketchup are both panicked, though they can’t possibly think they’re in danger here. The school isn’t fortified yet, but there are three hundred Godlings in this building. Even with the majority of them being only partially trained, the Eroi would not survive that.

  Is it other Godlings they fear?

  Holding Joshua a little tighter against my chest, I ask, “What happened?”

  Ketchup and Noah glance at each other before they both start talking. Talking too fast. Too fast to understand. Over the top of each other in a way that makes my head ache. “One,” I snap, “at a time.” Joshua stirs and I glare at them for giving me reason to raise my voice.

  “Three of them attacked,” Noah says, “right after we got to the pizza place. And she…” He glances over at Van, still in Ketchup’s arms, and shakes his head. His expression is a mixture of awe, fear, and concern quickly morphing into panic.

  So it’s her they’re scare of, or…scared for?

  “Put her down,” I tell Ketchup.

  Anger flashes in his eyes at my command, but he doesn’t argue. Zander’s eyes narrows as he watches as closely as I do. Ketchup is gentle as he sets her legs down and makes sure her feet are under her before releasing her to stand on her own. Eyes open, she stares straight ahead. Her muscles are slack, her awareness vacant. Heaviness settles over me as I recognize this. I’ve felt this. I’ve lived this. After killing my parents, this is what became of reality. Blank. Vacuous. Nothing.

  Emptiness.

  My thoughts begin to bounce, ricochet, as my fear for my baby sister escalates. Emptiness is the sign of pieces being ripped away. Van hadn’t recovered from the missing pieces that were already wounding her. More so soon won’t be good fo
r her. I try to think, figure out where to take her. She needs quiet, calm…home.

  This place isn’t home. It’s dirty still, and strange. Noises echo in some rooms and fade in others. It feels oppressive, a prison, but protective as well. Knowing whether or not this place is good is difficult for me. I’d rather be somewhere else. Safer. Quieter. The only place even close to what Van needs is…

  “Bring her to my room,” I say to Zander. Ketchup and Noah start forward, eager to follow, but I hold up a hand. Immediately they are ready to fight.

  “I’m not leaving her,” Ketchup kisses.

  “You can’t keep us away from her,” Noah says over the top of him.

  As Zander gently puts an arm around Van’s drooping, lifeless shoulders, I stride up to face the two boys. I meet each of their gazes, unflinching and uncaring that they are scared. They are not my concern. Vanessa must be helped, and they are not going to do that. Not as they are.

  “Your fear and anxious twitching is riling my hunger,” I tell them in a tone that allows for zero argument. “Even in the emptiness, it will affect her. It will keep her from leaving the emptiness” Stepping closer, I ignore Noah, who barely has any right to be here at all, and stare down at Ketchup. “The longer she stays in the emptiness, the more harmful it is.”

  “How do you know that?” he demands through clenched teeth.

  I pull back, but keep my gaze fixed on him. “I’ve spent too long there myself. Unless you want her mind to dwell on the missing pieces until it can do little else, stop getting in the way.”

  Ketchup’s hands ball into fists and his jaws works back and forth as he grinds his teeth to vent his anger. He knows I am right. He knows how fragile Van is better than anyone. I know he holds her after her nightmares, how long it takes her to recover from just those. He’s felt her tremors as her mind fights off the memories, the physical struggle to keep her mind from cracking open.

  “Fine,” he growls, “but I’m not leaving.”

  Shrugging, I couldn’t care less. I like Ketchup. I like that he loves Van and puts her above himself. I like that if we survive this war, he will take care of her always and be what Emily and Joshua are to me, an anchor and balm to the many wounds I’ve suffered and caused. Despite that, I signal for Zander to follow me and leave him behind.

  “What are we going to do?” Zander asks. He’s scared as well, because he’s never known the emptiness. He chose self-recrimination over hiding, which I’m not sure is better, though he seems to function more consistently than I do, so perhaps he is right.

  I don’t answer him.

  He won’t understand, anyway.

  When we reach my room, I open the door with one hand, still pressing Joshua to my chest with the other, and gesture for him to go in. This room is the closest thing to home in the entire building. At least as far as I’m aware. It’s small, but has enough room for what she needs. Zander stops with her in the middle of the room, the only open space left in the room with the bed, dresser, desk, and uncomfortable chair. He glares at me when I shoo him back from her, but does as I ask.

  Joshua lifts his head as I step up to Van. He is suddenly wide awake, and stares at her dead eyes. He reaches out and grabs a fistful of her hair before I can stop him. Van doesn’t react when he yanks it, other than her muscles automatically rebalancing her body. Gently, I untangle Joshua’s fingers from her hair. He pouts, but doesn’t try it again.

  Placing my hand on my baby sister’s shoulder, I squeeze and gently press down. “Sit down, Van.”

  She resists the suggestion and pressure for a moment before her knees bend and fold beneath her. Cross legged, she sits on the threadbare rug someone dropped off the day before, unresponsive in any other way. Joshua’s gaze stays locked on her as I move around her and sit in front of her with my son in my lap. He cocks his head to one side, as if he’s studying her, before shoving half his hand in his mouth and sucking noisily. Van’s left eye twitches.

  “Do you want me to take him?” Zander asks.

  I hesitate for a moment, then shake my head.

  The first time I killed…the emptiness didn’t come. I lost a piece, but it was small. That vile man deserved his fate. The second time…the emptiness came, but didn’t hit until I’d run away, and didn’t last long. Time and quiet was all I needed. Because he had deserved his death, too. My parents, they were not faultless—not with the lies and half-truths—but they did not deserve their deaths. They were accidents. It was my fault. I lost control. That was a large missing piece. The emptiness took me deep, so deep only Zander shaking me, yelling, terrified, could pull me back, and even then I didn’t come back fully. Part of my mind stayed stuck in the emptiness, not letting me remember at first, not letting me explain or speak about it.

  Going to the hospital did not help. It made it worse. Much worse. The drugs they gave me blocked me from the emptiness. I couldn’t get that piece of my mind back. It gave a different emptiness, a false one. Already confused thoughts became worse. My anger spawned in under the fear and controlling my power and hunger became very close to being a lost cause. Only visits from family, from home, kept me from losing touch completely and giving in to both the emptiness and my hunger and rage.

  Van does not need doctors or drugs. She needs time, home, family…calm. She needs to take the missing piece back from the emptiness. It won’t fit back like it did before, not at first. Maybe never. She needs it, though, or the missing pieces only get bigger.

  “What are we doing?” Zander asks. The tension in his voice gets on my nerves.

  “Be quiet,” I hiss. He doesn’t know what she needs. I am the family expert in this matter, and don’t need the distraction of him questioning me.

  “Vanessa, what happened when the three men attacked you tonight?” I ask. I’m not sure if she’ll respond. It depends on how deeply she’s been pulled into the emptiness.

  Nothing about her position or awareness changes. My worry deepens. I’m too focused on her to see Joshua reach forward and pat his hand against her leg. He doesn’t understand why she won’t play with him, but she reacts to his touch, gaze dropping to his fingers. There’s a flash of seeing before they go dead again.

  “Nessie-Girl, tell me what happened,” I ask.

  The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t speak.

  This time I do see Joshua reaching forward to pat her. I don’t stop him. His hand smacks down on her knee hard enough to make a dull sound.

  “Knives,” she whispers.

  “Yours or theirs?” I ask.

  She doesn’t respond until Joshua smacks both hands against her knee and giggles.

  “Mine.”

  “Where the hell did she get knives from?” Zander asks. “She hasn’t so much as looked at a weapon since we got home!”

  Shaking my head at his lack of observation skills, I pointed to the way her t-shirt is hung up on something beneath the fabric. It’s not a distinct outline, but clear enough to recognize there a strap connected to something more substantial at the point of her sternum. “She’s been wearing it since we got back. In case.”

  Zander grumbles something beneath his breath, but I’m not interested enough to ask him what it was. My focus is on Van. “Who attacked first? You or them?”

  When she doesn’t respond, I wait. Joshua pats her again, but it isn’t enough, and he pushes out his bottom lip at her. Used to his aunt playing with him and giggling with him, he seems put out that she’s ignoring his attempts. I don’t hold him back when he tips himself forward and crawls into her lap. Her posture was lifelessly slack before, but as his body wriggles to sit comfortably on her crossed legs, the tension of burgeoning awareness straightens her spine.

  “Me,” she finally says.

  “Good.” Zander grunts at my response. I don’t care. I wouldn’t have waited to be sure either. “Who was it?”

  Van shrugs, but doesn’t elaborate. Her mind is busy making her hand move to touch Joshua’s toes as they dig into her rib
cage every time he slaps his hands down on her legs and says, “Ba!”

  Turning to look at Zander, I ask the same question. “Which group?”

  “Not sure yet. Chris is overseeing collecting the bodies. They should be back soon, though I don’t know if that’ll help us identify them,” he says. “Best guess, Godling. Isolde wouldn’t risk Van being killed. She’d come after me first.”

  I nod, agreeing with his assessment. Isolde is a heartless demon who deserves burning for eternity if I actually believed in that sort of thing. Van is her prize, though, her Holy Grail. This wasn’t her. That doesn’t necessarily rule out another Eroi group, but they are less of a concern.

  “Did you protect Noah and Ketchup?” I ask Van, even though I already know the answer. It’s not for me. She needs to hear the answer.

  Her face scrunches, but her eyes are still distant. “Yes.”

  “Did you protect any innocent who might have been hurt by these assassins?”

  She hesitates, something flickering in her eyes for just a moment. “Yes.”

  “Did you protect yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Joshua stands. He nearly tips backward on the uneven footing, but Van’s hand snaps up to grab him. Her touch makes Joshua squeal in delight. His hands grip her face and he says, “Ba, ba, ba, ba,” over and over again, patting her cheek relentlessly when she doesn’t say anything back. He gets annoyed quickly and presses his face to hers, smearing drool across her cheek as he smashes his hand determinedly to her face and says, “Ba!”

  Her eyes stay focused on nothing, but her hand moves to gently cup his face. I’m not prepared for the sudden influx of her power. Zander senses it and lurches forward, but he can’t see it like I can. I grab his shirt and yank him to the ground beside me. He’s asking me something, but I can’t be bothered to answer him. What Van is doing is too distracting.