Wicked Revenge

by Gladden, DelSheree

  By the time we push through the double doors into the courtyard, most of the other guests have arrived. Van and Ketchup aren’t here yet, but I hear running and glance behind me to see them sprinting down the hallway, hand in hand. She looks relieved to see nothing has happened yet. Neither one of us would put it past Oscar to not wait. They push past us gawking at the transformation of the courtyard.

  Everything it still dead, with the exception of a few bits of green grass managing to survive. The dried stocks, leaves, and broken branches have all been cleared. Dead plants have been torn out to leave behind empty flower beds. Mismatches chairs are set out on the walkways, and Oscar and Emily are casually chatting with Chris. Not exactly the ideal wedding scene, but it seems oddly appropriate.

  Annabelle is taking in the strange scene, a hint of wonder in her eyes. Turning just enough to catch her attention, when she looks at me, I ask, “Would you really? Say yes?”

  She grins at me. “I guess you’ll find out when you ask.”

  Tugging me forward, she leads the way to my brother and Emily. Instead of a customary thanks for coming or something like that, he just tells me where to sit and asks if we’re okay holding onto Joshua during the ceremony. I hold back a head shake and assure him we are. Van gets a hug before being told where to sit as well. Emily seems amused by his behavior, but lets him direct the guests without comment. I’m not sure how Oscar managed it, but he seems to have found the absolute perfect woman for him. That thought takes away any lingering doubts about this happening and I sit back and bounce Joshua in my arms when he stirs.

  As Chris directs everyone’s attention to the front, I have a vague thought of sadness that my grandma is missing this, but I know Oscar never would have let her attend even if she hadn’t been so ill. It makes me wonder if he would have let my parents attend, if they were still alive. Their lies hurt him, but he hadn’t meant to kill them, and I think his love for them damaged him even more than the actual act of killing with power.

  “Hey,” Annabelle whispers, “stop thinking about sad things. It’s bad luck.”

  We certainly don’t need any more of that. Shaking away darker thoughts, I focus on what Chris is saying. I would have expected some hesitation about this from him, but he seems completely at ease at he talks about love and commitment between a fugitive and a secret-keeper. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, at times, to not reach out to us when she needed help or support. She didn’t even know if Oscar would ever love her again or forgive her, yet she kept both him and Joshua safe.

  I am not a crier by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, I feel my eyes misting as Oscar and Emily repeat their vows and promise to love, cherish, and protect each other for as long as they live. The small crowd claps when they kiss, waking Joshua who immediately cries, “Mama!”

  Emily is reluctant to pull away from Oscar, but is bursting with happiness and as takes him from me to rejoin Oscar at the front. That signals the end to the casual ceremony and Van rushes them. Ketchup hangs back and chuckles at her. The other guests, mainly Godlings Oscar has worked with lately, and a few who have helped with Joshua while Van and I were at school, close in to offer their congratulations. I stand, as well, and reach for Annabelle.

  “Oh ow,” Annabelle hisses.

  Glancing back at her, I’m startled to see blood oozing from the side of her hand. “What happened?”

  She shakes her head. “The chair cut me. I didn’t realize it had such a jagged edge.”

  She reaches for her power to heal the little slice, but Van is suddenly next to us and touches Annabelle’s hands. “Careful…”

  Everyone freezes when Annabelle’s cut vanishes. Seeing a Godling heal a wound in seconds isn’t anything new. Not when they’re the one doing it. Annabelle stares at Van. So do I. Only Ketchup seems unaware that anything unusual has happened, because he didn’t feel Van’s power surge before Annabelle’s had a chance to heal the cut.

  “How did you do that?” Annabelle demands.

  Her raised voice and insistent tone draws Oscar’s attention. He hands Joshua off to Emily and walks over. “Do what?”

  “She fixed my cut!” Annabelle tells him.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Van says. “I just grabbed her hand because the blood was about to drip on her pants. My power jumped away from me, like when it wants to taste someone, and then it just…popped.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I stare at Annabelle’s hand, then Van. “Like the game?”

  “Kind of.” She shrugs. “Instead of bursting out so Joshua can catch it, it zapped into Annabelle’s cut sucked up all the pain and…the cut, which sounds weird.”

  “No,” Oscar says, “it sounds like you healed her.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Something Familiar

  (Vanessa)

  I’ve always thought fast healing was the biggest perk to being a Godling. Now, it’s frustrating me to no end. As massive of a project as fixing up this school is, people get hurt round the clock. And then they heal themselves without thinking. I wanted Chris to put out some kind of edict telling people to stop healing themselves so I could test things out a bit, but he not only thought that was unkind, he isn’t keen on letting too many people know about this just yet.

  I’m all kinds of weird when it comes to being Godling. Even among these Godlings, that could be dangerous. They’re all eager to end the war, be rid of David’s followers, and get the Eroi off our backs. If fixing Annabelle’s tiny cut has something to do with that, they could start getting antsy. The few chances I’ve had to attempt a repeat, I’ve been stymied.

  Do something with my power unconsciously, sure. It loves that. Try to do it on purpose, and it’s like my power is laughing at me. I tried talking Zander into taking me to an ER or skate park or hockey rink, anywhere there’d be chances to feed on pain and fix little injuries. He refused. Too dangerous. Not even Ketchup would sneak me out of the school.

  As soon as the door to Chris’s office opens, I stomp in and flop into the chair across from his desk. He sighs. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Come with me, then. And Zander. I mean, I took care of things pretty well last time, right? You’re being ridiculous.”

  Chris’s eyes narrow. “Took care of things? Does that include you coming back a zombie? Because I’d rather not have a repeat of that.”

  “It won’t happen again,” I growl.

  “Oh yeah? Have you had some kind of vision assuring you of that?”

  Slumping in my chair, I scowl at him. “We’re making zero progress sitting around in this school. Snake tattoo? Who knows? Finding Sonya? No clue. Locating David’s lackeys? Your guess is as good as mine. Nothing! We’re just hiding out here.”

  “Yes,” Chris says irritably, “we are. We’ll keep hiding as long as we can. Most of the Godlings here are children, unless you’ve forgotten that.” He shakes his head. “We are making progress. Noah’s narrowed down Isolde’s location to Arizona or Utah and we think the council and deserters are here in town and have reached out to the compound in Mexico for help. I doubt they’ll get it, though.”

  Trying to hold onto my frustration, I’m still intrigued. “Why not?”

  “Because David assassinated their previous leader.”

  “Why?”

  He rubs his forehead before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Territory dispute, I think. Regardless, they won’t help.”

  “So, what will their next move be then?”

  “Plan how to best attack us, I’m guessing. You and your siblings, first of all, which is why you aren’t leaving the school.” When I open my mouth to argue, he says, “Keep fighting and you’ll end up doing deprivation training for the rest of the day.”

  I’m about to tell him what I think about that option when his office door bursts open and Zander barrels in. “We need to go,” he tells Chris while reaching for my hand.

  The panic in his voice makes Chris hesitate, then stand. “What’s going on?”

  “Cynthia just
called…”

  I gasp and jump up from my chair. “Is Grandma okay?”

  Zander flinches. “It’s not looking good. Cynthia doesn’t think she’ll last much longer.” He looks at Chris, pleading. “We’ll be safe. Caleb and several other cousins have offered to come with us, and Oscar and Emily are already heading over. I know you don’t want us exposed, but we need to say goodbye.”

  Chris’s turmoil is impossible to miss. He can’t leave all the Godling students, but I know he’s itching to be the one to protect us. Caleb has been nothing but helpful and supportive since he and the other rogues arrived, but to Chris he’s still an outsider. Finally, He reaches forward and claps his hand on Zander’s shoulder. “Be careful, and keep me updated.”

  “I will,” Zander says as he grabs my hand and drags me out of the office.

  We’re nearing the lobby where I see Caleb waiting before what Zander said to Chris sinks in. “Oscar’s coming?”

  Shrugging, Zander seems as shocked as I am. Oscar hasn’t seen our Grandma since before he was arrested. He’d forbidden her from visiting him at the hospital. Sentimentality over her dying doesn’t seem like something Oscar would bend to, but I decide not to question it.

  Caleb stalks forward as we approach and I’m startled to see several guns strapped to his person. It’s not often Godlings carry weapons. They are weapons. On him, it looks natural. The way he carries himself with them, maybe. Had I trained with David longer, he would have eventually moved me up from throwing knives to sniper rifles, but seeing them like this is unsettling.

  “Where’s…”

  Before Caleb can finish, Ketchup rushes in through the front door to announce he has the car ready. He doesn’t bat an eye before turning to me and saying, “You’re not driving, so don’t even ask.”

  “Driving?” Zander asks. “Since when do you know how to drive?”

  “Since I tried it,” I reply before hurrying over to grab Ketchup’s hand.

  Zander is right behind me. “What? You do not know how to drive.”

  Despite Ketchup’s grimace, he backs me up. “Actually, she’s bizarrely good at it.”

  “I even have my permit.”

  Zander’s eyes widen, then turn to glare at Ketchup, who holds up his hands in defense. “Yell at Noah’s mom, not me. She took her last Monday.”

  There’s no way Zander is going to let this lie, which would annoy me more if I weren’t more concerned with Grandma right now. I’m practically dragging Ketchup down the steps. We jump into the car and are speeding through the streets of Albuquerque seconds later. The whole ride, Ketchup squeezes my hand but doesn’t try to tell me everything is going to be all right. We both know it won’t be.

  Emily’s empty car is parked beside Cynthia’s when we arrive. Our escort cars pull in to the right of us. Everyone spills out of the car as soon as Ketchup puts it in park, and then we’re rushing up the creaky steps and into the house. One glance says the downstairs in empty. My hand slips out of Ketchup’s and I sprint for the stairs. Grandma’s door is open, and her pain hits me well before I reach it. If I hadn’t been sure before, there’s no kidding myself that these are her last few moments. Chocking back a sob, I start soaking it up and pushing through to say my goodbyes.

  Oscar stands against the back wall, as far as he can get from Grandma, while Emily sits next to the bed with Joshua. I understand, now, why he came. Grandma is barely conscious as Joshua gently pats her arm, but there’s a faint smile on her thin lips. When Emily looks up and sees me behind her, she stands and gestures for me to take her place. Oscar’s arm slips around her waist and they leave the room.

  I feel Ketchup’s presence behind me and reach back for his hand. As soon as he takes it, tears form in my eyes. I’ve known this was coming for a while. I knew before almost anyone else. That doesn’t make it any easier. Her breath rattles in her chest and my power lurches toward her. Frightened by its insistence, I freeze. My power continues forward. It’s used to consuming her pain and taking it from her willingly. The sensation of approaching death tears my hand from Ketchup’s and I throw my arms around her frail body.

  “This isn’t fair,” I sob. “Why did I fix a silly little cut Annabelle could have handled herself, but I can’t help her?”

  Ketchup’s hand rubs slow circles on my back. “I don’t know, Van. I’m sorry.”

  Grandma’s breath rattles in her chest and I panic. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Reaching for my power, I try to tell myself it’s just a game. All I have to do is move it to her, make it snap over like it did with Annabelle. I can fix this. I have to fix it, at least make it a little better so she doesn’t leave me yet. I push my power at her, begging it to do something.

  It flows into her body, hungrily lapping up the pain and anguish she’s suffering. It’s in every part of her, and I instantly know she’s too far gone to save. Nothing short of a miracle could take care of such massive damage to her organs and systems. The cancer has eaten her away. I have power, though, lots of it. More than anyone, maybe. That’s what people keep saying. I’m special. I can do things that are supposed to be undoable. I have the Gift, or am the Gift. If anyone can save her, it should be me, right? Maybe this is the motivation I need to finally harness whatever I’ve got hidden inside me.

  “Van?” Ketchup questions when the feel of the room changes.

  The little hairs on my arms stand up. I hear footsteps, but I don’t back off. Ketchup touches me, but I shake him off. I have to do this. I have to try.

  Pushing more and more power into Grandma’s body, I will it to do something. I can feel the mutated cells. The damage is like a beacon, drawing the power. It tries to surround it, but there’s too much and the cells too small. Moving the power around like I do with Joshua, I beg it to find some sort of latching on point, some spot it can hold on to and begin to take action. It just needs one little area.

  I try to guide it, show it where the damage is least, so maybe it can start off easy, but the power wanders through my control, only lapping up pain until I feel ready to explode. I try to send it back out, to her, force it to do something! Everything I send out just keeps leaking away from her. Like when I make the power pop for Joshua, it leaves her body without doing anything. I don’t know what to do except keep forcing more power into her.

  “Van,” Zander says as he pulls me back from her, “it’s not working. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up.”

  “I can do this!” I snap. Yanking my arm away from him, I gather what’s left of my power, but when Zander interrupts me I lose control over most it and it slips away. Scrambling, I shove what I have into her body, thinking I can keep soaking up her pain, but there’s almost nothing left. Shocked and afraid she’s already gone, I look at her and struggle to understand the peaceful expression on her face.

  Ketchup squeezes my shoulder. “She’s comfortable now.”

  “No,” I plead. “I have to fix her. It’s not enough!”

  Zander sighs. “Van, you can’t heal this.”

  “You stopped me before I could do it!” I snap angrily. “I lost all the power I was holding when you pulled me back! Now I don’t have enough left.” Sobbing angrily, I shove him away when he tries to console me.

  “Nothing is going to be enough. She’s dying. There’s nothing any of us can do to stop that.”

  “You don’t know that,” I cry. “Maybe I can. Maybe if I had more power. I just need more power.”

  Zander shakes his head. Furious at him for stopping me, I burst away from him and sprint from the room. I just need more power. I can do this. I can fix her. She doesn’t have to die yet and he has no right to try and stop me from saving her! Ketchup barrels out of the room after me, calling for me stop, but I don’t. I won’t.

  I see Oscar stand in surprise when I streak past the living room. I didn’t even realize he’d left Grandma’s room. I don’t stop for him, either. Pausing half a second to get the front door open, I’m out and leaping off the porch
when a hand latches onto me. I spin around, expecting to find Zander. Shock startles me for a moment when I’m faced with Ketchup. I can’t understand how he managed to catch me, but the sight of his car keys hanging half out of his pocket after his mad rush steals my focus. I yank them from his pocket and bolt.

  “Van!” he yells.

  I don’t stop. Adrenaline makes me clumsy, something it hasn’t done in a long time, and I hit the wrong button on the key fob. By the time the locks pop open and I’m climbing into the car, Ketchup is only a few steps away. Jamming the keys in the ignition, I try to escape without him, but he yanks open the door and dives in. I don’t want him to come. It’s too dangerous.

  Zander is right behind him, though, and I have no choice but to throw the car into reverse and make a run for it. “What are you doing?” I shriek at Ketchup once I’m on the road and speeding away from the house.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He’s glaring at me and breathing hard, but looks relieved to have not been left behind. “This is insane. We need to go back. Right now.”

  “No. Not until I can feed enough to heal her.”

  Ketchup sighs. “You can’t heal her.”

  “Yes, I can,” I snap.

  “Why? Because you healed Annabelle’s cut?” he demands. “Cancer and cuts are at complete opposite ends of the spectrum! Maybe someday you could heal something like that. I have no idea. Not today, though. Not without any practice or training.”

  Scowling at him, I say, “That’s how I figured out driving, isn’t it?”

  He throws his hands up. “Not even close to being the same! Turn around, now, and go back!”

  “No!”

  I don’t even know where I’m going, but I refuse to stop and give him a chance to take the keys or call Zander. I’ll go sit in an ER waiting room if I have to. I just need to be around enough pain and suffering to save her.

  Hitting a main road, I glare at the red light ahead and force myself to slow down. I’m watching Ketchup for any stupid attempts to stop me from continuing on. When I glance over at him, he’s not watching me. For some reason, his full attention is directed out his window.