Wicked Revenge

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “Did he tell you it was an accident?” I ask quietly.

  Van’s chin quivers. “A real accident?” she asks, “or an accident because he was out of his mind?” She holds her breath as she waits for my answer.

  “A real accident.”

  Something releases in her, in both of us. “I knew it had to be,” she whispers.

  “When David came to take him, and Mom and Dad didn’t stop him, he tried to run. David grabbed him. Then Dad tried to restrain him. When Mom reached for him, he panicked and tried to push them all back, but his hunger was at its breaking point, his power too full to control, and he…when his power burst out of him, only David was strong enough to survive. He didn’t mean to kill them, Van. When he realized what he’d done, that’s when his mind broke.”

  She nods as tears stream down her face.

  Neither of us says anything else as we turn into our old neighborhood and Van slows more out of dread than a drop in speed limit. It feels like being dragged behind a horse as we approach the driveway and Van slowly pulls in. We stare at the house. I don’t know all the thoughts running through Van’s mind in that moment, but I find myself irrationally angry to realize it looks exactly the same as it once did. It should be different. It should be marked somehow. Instead, the lawn is manicured, the roses under the front windows tended to, and the curtains drawn as they usually were when we were kids—for privacy.

  “It looks like Mom and Dad might be waiting inside,” Van whispers, “but they’re not. It’s not fair.”

  I squeeze her hand. “I know.”

  Whether Caleb understands our torment or not, he is good enough to leave us to it for as long as we need. Only when we gain enough courage to step out of the truck does he follow. Silent and watchful, he shadows us to the front of the house where Van takes a single key from her pocket and extends it toward the deadbolt. That’s as far as she gets. Her shaking fingers seem incapable of moving. Slowly, I close my hand over hers and take the key from her grip. Her breath is shaky as I slide the key into the lock and turn. We both flinch when the lock releases. Forcing myself to grab the doorknob and turn it, I can’t breathe as I give the door a shove and let go so it can swing freely.

  Dust motes swim in the light from the open door. The hardwood floors are pristine, no hint of the blood that once coated them. My mother’s blood. For a long moment, neither of us moves. Finally, Van’s hand slips into mine and she squeezes to let me know she’s ready and will be by my side. We step into the house together, Caleb following close behind and locking the door. He stands sentry while we inch toward the living room. It’s where I want to be least, but the demons I’ve been holding onto for so long urge me to face it.

  I close my eyes when we reach the room. Van stops. I hear her breathing speed up and my eyes snap open, afraid of what she might see, what I need to shield her from. There’s nothing, though. No blood. Nothing disturbed. Not a single item out of place from where it used to be. Even the carpet is unmarred, which means someone had it replaced. Other damage is fixed as well, the spot where my dad hit the wall when he was throw back, the molding on the entryway to the living where my mother’s body hit. It’s all exactly as it was before their deaths.

  “Why did she do this?” Van asks. “Why make it the same as before, like it never happened? Why keep all the furniture here, the pictures and paintings?”

  I shake my head, unsure. “Maybe she thought it would be easier to come back.”

  “Back? Why would she think we’d ever want to come back here?” Van demands.

  “She asked,” I say. “After the funerals. She asked me if we wanted to stay with her, or go home. She was willing to live wherever we wanted to be. I know it took you further from your friends, but I couldn’t come back to this house.”

  Van pulls in closer to me. “I couldn’t either. I still don’t want to be here.”

  “Let’s get the book and leave, then. Even knowing what happened was an accident, I still hate the fact that so many good memories of this house won’t ever be the same.”

  Nodding determinedly, Van says, “I think you should sell it. After everything is over, I think you should sell both houses and start over somewhere new with Annabelle.”

  That’s right, once probate is dealt with—something else the Godling lawyers are thankfully taking care of—I’ll own both houses. Neither of which I want to make decisions about, but I wouldn’t make them without consulting Van first. They’re hers are much as mine, no matter what the paperwork says. “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says before releasing my hand and stalking toward our dad’s old office. I don’t follow. She emerges several minutes later with the book in her hand, along with several others. The furious expression on her face says they aren’t favorite novels she wants for keepsakes. She shoves them at me when she’s near enough. “I’m going to guess it was Grandma who conveniently left these sitting on Dad’s desk for us to find, and never bothered to tell us about them.”

  I look down at the three books, confused when I see only worn leather covers with each of our names on them. Guessing memory books isn’t what’s set Van off, I open the cover of the one with my name on it and find myself at a loss for words. I stare at the pages filled with tracking sheets for Godling children. They monitored growth, hunger, gifts, power, healing rates, strength, and more. It’s frustrating they had these and never shared them with us, but I’m not sure I understand Van’s reaction. Annoyed at my slow understanding, she yanks her book out of my hands, opens it to a page bookmarked with one of those attached ribbon things, and slaps it down on top of my book. My eyes widen at the page labeled Markers for the Gift.

  About half the questions are filled out.

  Unique Marks? Check. “White Hair” is penciled in on the line provided for an explanation. Did they know about The Mark? Or is this a more general question? None of the Godlings outside the council and David’s now-dead cronies seem to have lore about the mark or tests Noah’s mom told Van about, but this question leaves me wondering.

  Unusual physical growth patterns? This one is left blank for Van, but as I spread the books out of the coffee table and compare them, I see Oscar’s and mine are marked in the affirmative.

  Unusual hunger or power growth patterns? All three of us are marked in the affirmative for this one, but for different reasons. Van, early manifestation and latent use are listed, the last part underline several times. Oscar gets noted for his high level of power and absolute control when not dealing with mental inconsistencies. Me, what looks like my dad’s handwriting mentions my brute strength and physical enhancements, and adds later, a strong resistance to using my power. I almost laugh at that, because it was so far from the truth at that time. They documented all this without really knowing any of us. I found ways to vent my hunger and power, away from their control and watchful eyes, where I could satisfy my cravings safely, in secret.

  Extrasensory perceptions? That question is left blank for all but Van, but the note for her seems uncertain. My mom writes, “She seems to be in the right place at the right time to save people too often for coincidence alone to be the explanation.” I have to give my mom credit for noticing that one before anyone else. I never pegged Van’s penchant for playing hero with her recent visions.

  Unexplained knowledge gained through use of or interaction with hunger or power? That question puzzles me. I’m not sure what it’s asking. It seems similar to the question above it, but different enough that it must be asking something else. Maybe that’s why it’s left blank for all three of us. My parents may not have understood it either.

  Abilities to influence others through use of hunger-born power? Dad mentions Van’s calming influence on Oscar, which makes me wonder if it’s somehow connected to what she has with Ketchup. Could Van have been trying to heal Oscar as well? If healing a malformed heart and a couple bullet wounds took that much out of her, I’m sure healing mental illness would take even more. As much as I love Oscar and
want him to be well, I hope Van doesn’t make the same connection and try.

  Uncommon bonds with other creatures, humans, or Godlings? Dad mentions Oscar’s passion for animals, while I get a blank line. Not surprising. I purposely didn’t form bonds, especially after Lisa. Van, though, gets tied to Ketchup. “She seems to have an unusual connection to Ketchup, a friend from school. Sometimes it seems emotional, at others more physical. The boy’s heart condition concerns me. I worry her hunger has latched onto him, and that’s the reason for their close friendship, and that it may lead to her hurting him. I’m inclined to separate them, but the emotional toll it would take on Van holds me back. It may not be related to this marker, but should be noted,” Mom writes.

  Suddenly, I understand why Van is pacing in front of me, ready to tear down the entire house with her bare hands. “They knew,” I say out loud.

  “How could they not tell me?” she yells. “How could my own parents be afraid I would hurt him? How could they lie to us and track us like lab rats, pretend they know us so well when they clearly didn’t? We were family, but we weren’t really. It was all a fantasy, one that collapsed to reveal a twisted reality that nearly shattered us. How could they do that to us?”

  I hold a massive amount of anger toward my parents and grandma as well, but I know what dwelling on those kinds of emotions does to a person. Suffocating and repressing our hunger poisons us, body and mind. Toxic emotions are no different.

  Shutting the books to look over later, I tuck them under my arm and face Van. “They made a lot of mistakes, Van. They lied to us and hid things that could have helped us, and it cost them their lives.”

  The angry words she was about to throw back at me stall on her lips when I say that, making it clear she’s never thought about it like that.

  “You know what, though?” I ask her. She looks at me warily, but doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t regret the way we were raised. Yeah, we’re struggling to catch up and develop gifts and talents we need to end this war, but they loved us. They tried their best and did what they thought was right. Yes, there were parts of growing up a Godling in hiding that sucked. olding back when kids teased usHolHolding back when other kids teased or bullied us infuriated me. But…growing up in this house, together, with parents who gave up everything to teach and protect us, I don’t regret that. I hate being back in this house, but I won’t give up memories of listening to Mom sing or reading with Dad, or doing crazy stuff with you and Oscar in the backyard when they weren’t looking. I won’t condone all their decisions, but I won’t hate them for raising us in a loving home. I refuse to let it consume me when I can learn from their mistakes and try to do better with my own family.”

  For a long time, Van is quiet. I can tell she’s thinking about what I’ve said, even if she’s not fully ready to accept it and let go of her anger and hatred. Humans, Godlings, Eroi, none of us are built to simply switch off that sort of bone-deep hurt. The fact that she’s not screaming anymore is hopeful. I’m prepared to leave it at that, but don’t know what to think when the corners of Van’s mouth turn up.

  “Your family?” she asks, her smile growing. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “What?”

  “You and Annabelle, she’s not…”

  “What? No,” I say quickly. “Annabelle is not pregnant. I was just talking about the future.”

  “Is it a possibility, though? Are you two sleeping together?” she asks, half teasing, half grossed out, but still curious and needing a distraction from her own thoughts.

  My gaze flicks over to Caleb, who’s trying not to laugh at me, then back to Van, irritated and doing my best to control the urge to smack her. “That is none of your business.”

  “Are you going to propose? You already asked her to live with you,” Van presses. “You always said you were better off alone, but you want all of that, don’t you? Marriage, kids, family, growing old together? Admit it. Admit I was right all along.”

  “Can we get going already?” I shake my head and walk toward the door.

  Van giggles behind me. “I knew I was right.”

  “Shut up,” I grumble.

  I never said I didn’t want a life with someone. I just never believed it could happen, or should happen, not with the way things used to be. Stalking out of the house and over to the truck, I surprise Van by climbing into the passenger seat without complaint. She proved herself on the drive over and I want to spend the time not talking and scouring Ivy’s book.

  When Annabelle and I were searching for Ivy, we got scans and images of the entire contents of the book. I practically have the damn thing memorized. Something about the papers Oscar found in the deserters’ hideout bothered me. Oscar only cared about keeping Egidio’s words, but Chris took everything else and we spent most of last night pouring over them. The majority were notes on our defensive and guard schedules, which Chris immediately changed and completely randomized so it will be much more difficult to track, which honestly is something we both should have done from the beginning. We’re learning as we go, unfortunately.

  There were a few other documents in the group that weren’t intel reports on the school, but on us, the Roth siblings, and old references to things David never once mentioned. The true words of Egidio were puzzling on their own. David seemed to fully believe in the Godling version, which said the Gift would destroy the Eroi. Van suspected he had the real prophecy after learning the Eroi had their own version promising the destruction of the Godlings by way of a special Richiamos. She must have been right, because the deserters could only have gotten it from David’s personal library—wherever the hell that might be—but why had he ignored it and gone with the Godling version? Was it simply because it fit his beliefs and needs as the deserter told Oscar, or did he still interpret the original to mean he would come out on top?

  I’m not sure I can ever understand David, but the handful of other documents related to old knowledge of marks, gifts, and an end to the war, alluded to the Godlings knowing things I’ve only heard from either Ivy or Isolde. That either means, Egidio was right and they were once partners in maintaining the balance between good and evil, or they did a lot of digging. As secretive and anal as both groups are about keeping what they know to themselves, I’m betting it’s the former.

  One of the papers had an old drawing. The photocopy wasn’t great, and some of the details were either grainy or distorted, but I’m positive I saw the same one in Ivy’s book. When I pulled it up on my computer before collapsing into bed next to an already sleeping Annabelle, I realized our copy was even worse. Which was the reason behind this trip to get the book.

  While Van is lost in her thoughts, I flip to the page with the drawing and compare it to the saved image on my phone. In the very center of the drawing is a sphere. On either side of it are coiled creatures I first thought were dragons. Now I’m able to look closer. Long serpentine bodies curve around the sphere, then continue to coil into what I at first thought to be a simple figure eight pattern, but now recognize as the symbol for infinity. The heads of the creatures are the least detailed in both the scan and the photocopy the deserters had. The lack of details made them look like scaled heads breathing fire, reinforcing the dragon idea. Now I realize one head is covered in scales, but tiny ones, while the other is actually only bone, a skeleton. Neither one is breathing fire, but an elaborate tongue protrudes from both heads.

  “They’re snakes,” I say to myself, “not dragons.”

  What I once thought were wings coming from their backs now are clearly meant to be fingers of hands holding both the sphere and snakes. I still don’t understand what it means, but the fact that this isn’t the first snake I’ve seen associated with one or both groups puts me on edge. Handing the book back to Caleb, I ask, “Have you ever seen this before?”

  Caleb reaches for the book and barely looks at the image before saying, “Of course I have.”

  That catches Van’s attention as well as mine. She gla
nces back at him quickly before returning her attention to the road, but is still listening intently. I have the luxury of meeting his gaze and watching every twitch of his face as I ask, “Where?”

  Handing the book back to me, Caleb shoves his shirtsleeve up and points at the pendant worked into a woven leather bracelet tied around his wrist. I’d seen the bracelet before, but with the pendant secured to the underside of his wrist, I’d never noticed that part. Now I can’t help staring at an exact replica of the image from Ivy’s book and the photocopy the deserters had.

  Caleb watches me, seeming confused by my shock. Slowly, his expression darkens. “Can I see that book again?” He takes it before I can make the decision to hand it over, and immediately closes it to look at the cover. He sucks in a sharp breath and glares at me. “Where did you get this?”

  “I stole it from a Richiamos,” Van says.

  Stunned, Caleb flips through the pages, shaking his head. We hadn’t explained the full details of what book we needed or why it was hidden in the first place. I asked him to come as security to retrieve a book we needed, and he agreed. Simple as that. Now I feel I owe him an explanation, but he breaks in before I can offer one.

  “Why is this symbol in an Eroi book?”

  “What does the symbol mean?” I ask.

  He stares at me in disbelief. “You don’t know? The Godling children aren’t taught about our origins?”

  “Origins?” Van scoffs. “For all we know, Godlings poofed into existence like one of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends residents.”

  Rolling my eyes at her, I say, “You’ve been watching too much TV lately.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. With Ketchup being hounded by doctors and his mother, Van has been binge watching TV. We were only rarely allowed to watch television as kids and she seems determined to catch up, but this is hardly the time to discuss it.