Warriors

by Sarah Noffke

His face shifts as he comprehends.

  “And I’m not too depleted so speak or think for yourself.”

  He allows himself a small smile. “If you’re telepathic then it means…”

  Both our heads turn and our eyes land on the door beside us. My father’s study.

  Fear more encompassing than when I faced fifty soldiers overwhelms my being. The handle is cold under my fingertips. The door doesn’t make a noise when I push it open. My father stands, hands clasped behind his back. He’s looking out the open window which faces the grassy yard.

  “Do you think either one of you are welcome in my home?” my father says, his voice an angry hush.

  “I want to know—”

  “I know what you want!” he roars, cutting me off.

  Knowing he’s stolen my thoughts, I plunge straight into the speech I’ve rehearsed. “My sister, tell me where she is and what you’ve done with her,” I say, and I’m surprised by my tone. It carries confidence. It carries strength. One I’ve never had when talking to my father.

  “You’re not afraid of me anymore,” my father says, his tone hostile.

  “Father,” I say, a warning in my voice.

  His shoulders are held back high. His mostly blond hair is slicked back and only looks a little less full than it did before I burned him, before scars made it impossible for it to grow in places.

  You have ruined everything, he thinks in his head, the statement directed at me since he knows I’m leeching him, borrowing his telepathy.

  “We,” I say, “have worked to bring justice to Austin Valley. The crimes you and Vider have committed will not go on any longer. Hate me for everything I’ve done to stop you but don’t punish Nona for it.”

  He spins around and slams both of his palms on his desk, levels his gaze at me. I work to keep my eyes on his and not at the multiple places where waxy scars stretch across his face, neck, and head. “I hate you for the simple fact that you maimed my face,” he says, spit flecking out of his tight lips. “I wanted to kill you for daring to organize a revolution, but I hate you for what you’ve done to me. Are you happy now that I look like a monster?” His palm slams down again. “Are you!?”

  I don’t flinch. Instead I draw in a steadying breath and regard him for the unfortunate person he’s become. “I don’t take pleasure in others’ misfortunes. You taught me to, but I don’t think like you taught me anymore.”

  “No, I know exactly how you think,” he says, the disappointment evident in his tone. “And before you get too comfortable exploring my thoughts I think you should know I’ve learned how to stop you from leeching me. So get out.”

  And just like that the little data stream of thoughts I was hearing from Zack and my father halts. Knowing I need to protect myself, I shut my father out of my mind immediately, just the way Tutu taught me.

  My father’s bloodshot eyes dart to Zack beside me. “And you. You’re quite masterful at closing your thoughts to me, which is why I never suspected you as a traitor.” Then he raises his eyes until he’s staring at the ceiling. “Dee!!!!” My father screams so loudly it hurts my head and makes his face turn red like it’s about to burst.

  “Don’t do this, Damien,” Zack says, his voice steady. “We don’t want trouble. We only want to know what you’ve done with Nona and Ren.”

  My father pushes off the desk, a devilish smile haunting under his scarred mouth. “You walk into my house, after bringing a war to this Valley, and think there won’t be trouble.” A curdled laugh echoes around his study. “The things President Vider and I will have to do to get control of this Valley will be monumental. And you dare to tell me you don’t want trouble?!” he screams, the blue vein in his neck bulging.

  He doesn’t know… I’m not sure why I thought he would. Maybe I assumed my mother would see it in a clairvoyant vision. But he doesn’t know that he’s already lost this. It’s too late for him.

  “Father,” I say, “you should know—”

  “Dee!” he roars for a second time.

  “Father,” I begin again, “Vider is—”

  Running footsteps steal my attention. Instinctively I pull Zack out of the path of the doorway and behind me. He lays a steadying hand on my shoulder just as Dee runs into the room, freezing at the sight of us. Her red hair hangs loose, falling over her long white forehead. She pushes it back with an indignant look at us. Then as dutiful as ever she turns her attention to our father. “You called?”

  A satisfied grin lights up his eyes, and although one of them is partially obscured by scar tissue I spy the glint in it. “Yes, oh, and how wonderful that your mother will be here to witness this lovely turn of events,” he says as my mother steps into the room, giving us a similar welcoming as Dee. Her pinched nose looks down at me.

  “How dare you…” she says, taking a step in my direction.

  “That was my reaction as well, Lyza,” my father says behind his desk. “Em, a wanted criminal, has as we suspected given herself up to rescue Nona. Great plan, Lyza.” He turns his blue eyes on me. “We knew you couldn’t resist being a martyr.”

  “You took Nona to lure me out?” I ask in disbelief.

  “No, we took Nona and Ren so they could be punished. Traitors deserve to be punished,” my mother says in her perfect diction.

  “She’s your daughter!” I yell and feel Zack’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. He knows my mother is trying to provoke me.

  “Haven’t you learned by now that blood does not grant you lenience in this Valley?” she says, her hair slicked back in a bun, exaggerating her stiff appearance. “We abide by what is right and do not show favor to those who disobey no matter who they are. We demand all to be loyal.”

  “And speaking of blood and loyalty,” my father says, looking too pleased. “Dee, I’m extremely grateful that you didn’t marry Zack since he now appears to be a traitor.”

  Dee’s face scrunches with disgust. “You pretended. You pretended, all so you could what? What was your motive?”

  “To gain favor in Government Center,” he says plainly, not intimidated by the fiery glare Dee’s shooting at him.

  “Father,” she says, glaring at Zack, “do I have your permission to burn him alive?” I move to further block Zack from my diabolical and lethal sister.

  “No, you do not,” my father says flatly. “Zack and Em will be doing what I say if they want Nona released. And the punishment I have in mind will be much worse than what Em did to me.”

  How long has it been? Will Sergeant Miller storm in soon? I need to get Nona’s location now but to do that I’m going to have to flip these tables, since my father is currently under the faulty impression he’s winning this.

  “Oh, Father,” Dee complains with a pout. “That isn’t fair. He humiliated me all for power. I should be able to…” And her voice trails away as I watch the wheels in her head spin. “If power was your motive, Zack, then why didn’t you go through with it? You lost your job for leaving me at the altar.”

  “Because you’re a repulsive and horrible excuse for a human being,” I say, wanting to redirect Dee’s anger at me. “Zack couldn’t stomach the idea of being with you. Especially since he’s in love with me.”

  Dee’s eyes bulge and she lunges for me with a clawed hand but it’s my mother who grabs her, stopping her progress. “You listen to your father, Dee,” my mother admonishes. “He said he had plans for these two traitors to the gods. You trust him.”

  Deliberately, tethering her anger, Dee turns and faces us. “I’m going to ignore what you said, Em, since you’re obviously speaking from a place of supreme jealousy.”

  “How humble of you.” I smile and seeing an opportunity I say, “And exactly why would I be jealous of you?”

  “Because I’m a prominent member of this society. I’m powerful. And Father favors me,” my obnoxious sister spouts.

  Unable to resist and knowing this is the perfect way to create the chaos I need to earn Nona’s location, I point at my father. “Do y
ou mean this man here?” I say.

  “Of course I do,” Dee says, looking at me like I’m dumb.

  “Well, that man there isn’t your father,” I say plainly.

  A screech like that of a hurt raven rips out of my mother’s mouth. “Em,” she screeches, “you shut your mouth!”

  I tilt my head to the side. “What, this isn’t a good time for confessions? Because as long as I don’t know where Nona is the more confessions of yours I think I’ll share, Mother.” I say her name like it carries an enormous repugnance.

  “Em,” my father says, his voice sounding impatient. “These antics won’t work. Your lies—”

  “Oh, you didn’t know that Dee is Vider’s child?” I say casually. “Because he knows. We’ve discussed it. I thought you might too.”

  My father narrows his eyes at me. “Lyza would never betray me like that.”

  “Oh, but she did,” I say. “Didn’t you, Mother?”

  With fists balled by her side my mother shakes her head, a look of horror on her pale face. All color has drained from Dee. She looks as flat as a wall.

  “Father,” I say, staring straight at my mother, “ever wonder how Dee is as tall as you? Or why she has almond-shaped eyes? Or has Vider’s high cheekbones? Or has the thought crossed your mind that she doesn’t look an ounce like you at all?” I throw a seething, heart-stopping glare at my cold-hearted mother. The one who has done something with my sister Nona. “And if all that’s not convincing enough, just get in Mother’s head and search.”

  My father’s face even under the scars shows signs of doubt. His eyes are studying Dee, who is looking back and forth between our mother and my father. Without taking his focus off of her Father says, “Lyza, tell me that Em is spouting lies.”

  My mother’s lip trembles. “Em is lying,” she manages, but it carries none of the weight of her usual voice. It reeks of treachery and deceit and from my father’s flared eyes he spies it.

  My father’s gaze darts to my mother and surprised horror writes a new story on his face. “What was that?”

  “W-w-w-hat?” my mother says.

  “Your thoughts! You’re lying,” my father convicts.

  Horror like I’ve never seen before rips through Dee’s eyes.

  “Damien,” my mother says through a light sob. “I’m not. It’s just…”

  “You are lying!” he says with astonished fury. “Lyza, how have you done this to me? All these years. I didn’t know. You betrayed me. Lied to me. Hid thoughts from me.”

  My mother’s shaking hand rises to her cheek like she’s just been slapped. “Damien, I don’t like to keep things from you, but it was a mistake. It was only one night and I was confused.”

  Dee’s face whips in my father’s direction, desperation making her eyes wide. “No!” she shrieks. “I’m your daughter, Father. This is all a mistake.”

  With vengeful eyes my father shakes his head. “It isn’t. You aren’t my daughter,” and the words are hot coming out of his mouth.

  A shrieking cry vibrates Dee’s chest. “N-n-n-no!” she says, erratically shaking her head.

  I chance a look back at Zack. And sensing the question in my eyes he nods. I focus my attention on my mother. “Now I want you, Mother, to tell me where Nona is or I will make this even worse for you.”

  Her scorned eyes slowly hover until they meet mine. “You!” she says with all the hate and disdain I know she feels for me. “You think you can threaten me to tell you what I know. Keep this up and I’ll lock the information away just so I can watch you be tortured by the fact that you failed to save your sister.”

  I’m momentarily stalled as I look into the eyes of the woman I’ve known my entire life and still have never truly met.

  “Em, what else do you know?” my father booms, his fury making the room feel on fire. My mother’s eyes bulge with alarm.

  “Don’t, Em,” she warns. “Don’t spout anymore of your deceit.”

  “Then tell me where Nona is!” I say in desperation.

  “Father, give me permission to take her down,” Dee says, looking to have slightly bolstered herself with her wealth of hate for me.

  “Don’t call me that,” my father says, his gaze on me. “Dee, you aren’t my daughter. You’re dead to me.”

  Dee’s green, devastated eyes rotate to my father with such heartbreak. With a heartache I didn’t know she was capable of.

  “Now, Em,” my father beckons. “Tell me your mother’s other secrets. Are you not my child too?”

  I scoff at him. “Oh, look at me. I’m obviously yours. Unfortunately,” I add, allowing a little dull humor.

  “Tell me then what you’re trying to blackmail your mother with,” he says.

  “Mother?” I say and she’s half of her normal poise, shivering, slouched, defeated.

  “I can’t, Em,” she says, giving me a weak look and then allowing her eyes to fall to the floor.

  “Such a coward,” I say. “Would it kill you, or you, Dee, to stand up to Father?” I say, waving at him.

  “Em, you’ve lost this game,” he says. “And you can’t tell me anything to make what I know any worse. I have two daughters who are mistakes, cursed by the gods, but nothing is worse than my own wife’s betrayal.”

  “How about the fact that your wife is half Middling?” And to my surprise it’s Zack who reveals this detail. I turn back to see the look of animosity on his face. And I know at once that he’s going for revenge. It’s such a weird thing for him to do, but I also know he’s watched silently over the years as my father belittled me. Abused me. Treated me with disdain. Zack stood by quietly, not wanting to endanger his father’s position in my father’s office. Now he has nothing to risk, and nothing to lose.

  “What?!” my father says, spinning to face my mother. First confusion and then rage takes residence on his face. He’s just read her thoughts and although she’s practiced at keeping him out she’s too emotionally charged to lock him out right now.

  “No, Lyza! These lies,” he says, spitting out the word. “How long have I lived in this life of lies?”

  “It sucks, doesn’t it, Father?” I say.

  The front door slams shut and the room silences. Boots echo through the house.

  I gather a new courage. Clear my throat. “It’s probably time I told you that there’s no winning this war or repairing the damage,” I say, my voice dull, but steady. “Vider has been taken and is being converted as we speak. And that,” I say, angling my head at the door, “is a U.S. military soldier who is going to ensure you share the same fate as your president.”

  My father’s eyes stare at me unblinking.

  “Tell me where Nona is, Father,” I plead. “Please?”

  His chin lowers to his chest, then slowly like in a daze he opens the top drawer of his desk and removes a revolver. I suck in sudden breath and everything moves into hyperspeed. Everyone’s actions are immediately too fast. All events happen at once. Zack pushes me to the side, my mother lets out a blood-stopping scream, and my sister lurches forward. But it’s too late. I know instinctively that there’s no way to stop what happens next. In one movement, my father rockets the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.

  ***

  And never again will I sleep the same…

  Never will I look through these eyes and see the world the way I used to…

  One doesn’t watch their father’s brain explode out the other side of his head and exist without demons…

  Even if he was an evil man…

  The death of evil men still hurts people… Especially their daughters.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Zack and I barrel through the street, a crew of soldiers on our heels, but I’m the only one who knows the way.

  “The old warehouse.” That’s all my mother had said, as I shook her. Straining not to strangle her to get Nona’s whereabouts out of her, I clenched her shoulders and over and over I shook her. She just kept staring in the direction of where my fa
ther’s fallen body was on the other side of the desk, like she expected him to stand and say it had all been a well-crafted illusion. That wasn’t going to happen. I knew that. But my delusional mother didn’t. I could see her slipping further between the recesses of sanity, into a world where only thoughts of grandeur happened. I feared she’d live there. Nevertheless, I shook the fragile woman. “Tell me where my sister is! You have nothing left to lose and everything to gain by helping me. Please.”

  That’s when she whispered out the words which should have meant nothing to me. “The old warehouse.” Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through my blood, heightening the stores of my memories. Whatever the reason, when she said “the old warehouse” it triggered a long-ago memory. Like remembering a sleeping dream long forgotten, a memory I didn’t know was mine washed over me. It was connected to nothing and so far out of sorts from my other thoughts. But still, somehow it was etched into a cranny of my memory, now coated in dust and cobwebs. And the words “the old warehouse” brought the memory to the surface.

  I had been around four years old when my mother took a detour after one of my ballet classes. I was anxious to return home and slip into real clothes, not leotards that pinched my skin. It was strange for us to deviate from our schedule. Stranger was her demeanor, covered in stress. Hurrying me through the back roads of town, my mother ignored my complaints about my aching feet. We’d walked far. Farther than we usually did during our daily routine. I had never been to this part of town. Later I would forget it existed. I remember the roads disappearing and only dirt-covered paths snaking through an overgrown field. My mother’s shiny flats were soon coated in dust, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  When we were far on the southern side of town we finally arrived at a warehouse that was sunk into the ground. It was close to where the lumber yards were being built. My father was standing by the door, speaking to an unseen figure. His face did a double take when he saw us approaching. Extreme worry screamed on his features. He ran out to us and my mother made me stay back as they had a hurried conversation.

  The unearthed memory doesn’t hold much of their conversation. But I do remember my father’s angry eyes revolving around my mother as he said, “You shouldn’t have brought her to the old warehouse.”