Wicked Power

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “Just like you, I fell in love with her like a fool. I told myself I could control the hunger and be with her because I wanted it so much. When she said she could help me, I believed her. I let myself be pulled in by her lies. That’s where the similarities end, Zander.”

  Unclenching my jaw enough to let a few words slip out is excruciating. “What do you mean?” I hiss.

  David rushes me, jamming a finger against my chest. “The difference is, I saw through her lies before it was too late. I trusted my training and beliefs, and I saw her for what she was. I survived! I didn’t need my little sister to save me!” David shoves hard against my chest. My head knocks into the wall behind me. “Do you know what they call me?”

  I shake my head, no clue what he’s talking about.

  “The call me the Outlier, because I did what no one else could. I won against the Richiamos that came against me.” His face twists in a snarl. “Do you think anyone is calling you an Outlier? Do you?”

  I want to throw him off me, lash out and repay all the abuse he has laid out on me since we met. But I don’t, because he is right. “No,” I say quietly.

  “That’s right,” David snaps. “Your baby sister, she’s the one everyone in this compound is calling the heir to my title. Not you. They see her strength. They see her potential. All they see in you is weakness.”

  If he’s expecting me to respond, he doesn’t show it. He turns away sharply and walks deeper into the office before turning around. “Is that how you want people to see you, Zander?” he demands.

  My head snaps back and forth. “No.”

  “Then change the way people look at you!”

  “How?”

  David points at the door of the office. “Forget Ivy Guerra. Nobody gives a damn about what happens to her. If you want to fixate on something, try the Eroi. They’re the ones who sent her after you! They’re the ones who want us all dead!”

  Shaking his head in frustration, David glares at me. “You have potential you can’t even begin to comprehend. Unlock it and show everyone who you really are.” His hand grips the door knob firmly, but he doesn’t open it yet. “This is the last conversation we will ever have about Ivy. Starting today, your full attention will be focused on unleashing whatever power is hiding inside of you and using it to bring down the Eroi. Do you understand me?”

  The internal battle that rages through my mind in that moment is too consuming to put into words. Ivy’s words haunt me. They always will, and I doubt they will ever leave me. I never wanted to hurt her, but so much of what David is saying rings true. She made her choice. She was willing to condemn my entire family for her beliefs. Is she right? Should the Godlings be destroyed? Part of me agrees with her, but then I remember the beauty of Annabelle’s gift and I want so badly to believe she is right, that we were meant for some higher purpose.

  One day, I will find Ivy again, and I will exact answers from her. I will know her heart and soul, and one day, I will understand the truth of everything. Love her, hate her, it doesn’t matter anymore. Finding the answers is all that matters. I will have them, but first, I must prove to David that I am worthy of the power he believes I hold. Unleashing what I am meant to become is the only way I will ever know the truth.

  “Yes, David, I understand.”

  ***

  For the past two weeks, David’s words have not left my mind for even a moment. His story and accusations have poked at me relentlessly, pushed me to find the strength I once thought I already had. I have never hated anyone as much as I hate David, but not for the same reasons I once did.

  Yes, his training methods are often cruel and the man doesn’t know the meaning of the word compassion, yet he is effective. He pushes me to the end of what I believe my limits to be, only to show me that I can still go further. He does not fail, ever, and that I have learned to respect.

  My hatred for him stems from his ability to see me so clearly. He has shown me that the control I once professed to have was a fantasy. My high-minded beliefs about who and what I am have been torn to shreds. He has shown me the truth about myself. David demands I become the man he wants me to be, the man he believes I am. I want the same thing. The problem is, David and I don’t agree on who or what that man should be.

  Outwardly, I am exactly what David wants. I push myself to exhaustion every day. I never quit. I won’t accept failure. The name Ivy has not crossed my lips once since our conversation. I train, eat, and sleep. David couldn’t be more pleased.

  My silent thoughts are the real drive to excel, not David. Whatever David is training me to become, I think he will ultimately find himself disappointed. I have no intention of becoming a Godling lemming. He believes our conversation had the intended effect, knocking Ivy out of my mind forever. It had exactly the opposite effect.

  Every time I want to give up, I picture Ivy in that last moment when she revealed her true intentions. The sick satisfaction in her eyes plagues me. She may have been the one about to die, but it gave her pleasure knowing that I would be next, along with my entire family.

  The blocked number has called many times over the last two weeks, but I refuse to answer it. Whatever other accusations she has to lay at my feet, she can keep them. The list of her sins is just as long as mine.

  As I walk into the gym locker room and start changing, I repeat the mantra that has been my constant companion lately. The answers lie in the source of the power. It runs through my mind as I dress in gym shorts and take off my shoes.

  All I hear from David is how I need to find the power inside of me. He seems so convinced I can do something more than what I realize. He’s obsessed with it. I don’t pretend to know his reasons, but I recognize that nearly frantic need. I felt it with Ivy. I know what it feels like to want something so badly that it consumes you. He wants me to find my power, so he can use it. For what, I don’t know, but I doubt it’s good.

  I push myself to near breaking in order to find what he wants, but not to please him. The source of this power he needs so badly is the answer to a question. Finding the power will reveal the question and lay out the plan behind his need. Discovering his plan and gaining the upper hand I need to get away from him and find the truth about the Eroi and Godlings both has become my obsession.

  Walking out of the locker room, I am greeted by an anxious silence. The hush is disturbing. It doesn’t stop me from stalking out into the center of the gym and facing David. He doesn’t need to explain what we will be doing today. The last two weeks have built up to this moment. Everyone in the room turns to watch James march into the octagon with a vicious grin on his face. I nod at him, but he only smirks.

  David gives no words of encouragement, no last-minute advice. He simply gestures for me to get on with it and either prove I am exactly what he thinks I am or show my true colors as the failure everyone else sees me as. James has already entered the octagon and is waiting like a tiger about to feed.

  On my way to join him, I meet Annabelle’s worried eyes and try to convey with a look that everything will be all right. Not far from her, I spot Van and Ketchup finding a place in the growing ring of spectators. The fear in Van’s eyes startles me. For someone who loves a good messy fight, I thought she’d be excited to watch me go up against James. Instead, she looks sick to her stomach. Her knuckles are white as she grips Ketchup’s hand.

  Shaking off her strange mood isn’t easy, but I force myself to set it aside as I square up with James. I watch as he begins bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. His eagerness to break me is disgusting. If he’s expecting me to match him, he’ll just have to be disappointed. I look to the side where David is standing, ready to start the fight.

  All it takes is his silent nod.

  Before I even process that the fight has begun, James’ powerful fist slams into the side of my head. My neck snaps to the right as pain spirals out from the point of connection. I hear the entire crowd groan in response to the hit. To a non-Godling, that would have been a kill
ing blow.

  I turn back to face James. The glee in his expression makes me smile. Without speaking, I soak up the pain like David has taught me and hold it close. The echo of James’ hit fades. I stretch my neck and almost laugh at the flash of frustration in his eyes.

  “Not gonna hit me back, huh? Are you the coward everyone thinks you are?” James taunts. “It’s not going to stop me from finishing you, Zander. Don’t expect any mercy from me just because you’re a weakling who needs his sister to fight his battles. I will kill you.”

  The corners of my mouth turn up in a smile just as twisted as his. “You can certainly try.”

  Not even half a second later, my fist plows into his jaw. He attempts to counter with an uppercut, but I roll out of his reach. I knew from the beginning that there would be no dancing around in this fight, no trying to stay out of each other’s reach. James’ immediate pursuit and attack is expected. I put up a weak block to his next punch thrown. The contact sends another shot of pain through my head and neck, but I push in closer and lash out with a flurry of body hits.

  With a grunt of annoyance, James wedges a hand between us and shoves me away, knocking me back several feet. He doesn’t wait for me to settle my feet before coming after me. A wicked jab to my ribs knocks me off balance just enough to allow him to gain the upper hand. He hooks an arm around my shoulder and neck, yanking me down to the mat with a sickening thud.

  The ground and pound he unleashes on me bruises my face instantly. Panic that I am about to lose this fight sends my heart rate into overdrive. I have to focus to heal my injuries just as quickly as he doles them, while at the same time unsuccessfully trying to wrap my legs around his waist or get my hands around his neck to pull him closer and lessen the force of his blows.

  I’ve had two weeks of training in this octagon. James has had years. It’s no excuse, though. I need to regain control of the fight.

  Fear swims inside of me, but I fight to maintain some semblance of calm. I can’t lose this fight. I have to prove that I deserve answers. I have to know the truth.

  I have to know the truth.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it as James’ fist plows into my ear again. The spots in front of my eyes and ringing in my ears shakes my focus for a moment, but determination brings it back like a burst of lightning. Everything I have learned over the last few weeks comes rushing back into my mind, and I know how to get out of this.

  Feet braced against the mat, I shove my hips upward and knock James forward. Instinct brings his hands down to the mat. With a burst of speed, I lock my hand around his left biceps as I trap his left lower leg with my foot. I hear him curse a split second before I yank his arm out from under him and roll, coming up on top.

  Van’s ecstatic cheer urges me on. I grin down at James, knowing I am far from winning this fight, but still able to enjoy a small victory. He snarls back at me, snapping his forehead into mine.

  I breathe in, willing the dark splotches and pain away as I stumble back to my feet. I barely get my hands up in time to partially deflect his next thundering blow. His fist glances off my forearm and clips my shoulder. I stumble into the fencing, but use it to propel myself back toward him.

  James pulls his hands up, ready for me to throw a punch, but I use the momentum to its fullest and duck under his arms. He sees my plan of attack just a moment too late. I’m already lifting his body off the mat before he can try to counter me. The air blasts out of him as I throw him to the ground, landing with my full weight directly on his chest.

  I’m so satisfied with myself that I don’t see him grab for my foot. I groan in agony as he wrenches my foot in close to my body, straining the ligaments in my knee to their max. I soak up the pain willingly, but I’m forced to give up my position of advantage and roll out of his grip. James reacts immediately, yanking me off my hands and knees, slamming me facedown into the mat. He has me fully locked in with my neck in a naked choke hold. Within moments, my vision begins to dim and I know I will be at James’ mercy in mere seconds. There is no option to tap out in this fight.

  James half grunts, half laughs in my ear as I fight to get his arms from around my neck. “Where’s your little sister now? Maybe I’ll get her in here with me next.” His grating laugh infuriates me. “How’d you like that, huh?”

  Pure rage snaps through my entire body. My hands stop grabbling at his arms and snap under my chest, pushing up and sideways. James grunts in surprise at finding himself flattened beneath me, but I don’t stop there. I roll my feet over my head, one hand going behind my head and squeezing James’ windpipe as I roll, while my other arm forcibly wedges under his neck. The roll breaks his grip on my neck, but adds weight to my forearm that is crushing his throat. Bucking against the mat, James gets enough force to smash his knee into my head. I roll back, soaking up the pain, but not feasting on it just yet.

  We square up again, James’ expression much more wary this time and filled with hatred that runs deep. Everything leading up to this moment was just a warm up. Now, the real fight begins.

  ***

  What feels like hours later, I can’t lend any focus to the sounds coming from the crowd as James launches another bone-breaking blow at me. I tune out Van’s growling, furious commentary directed at James. The cheers and groans of sympathy every time one of us lands a vicious kick, or snaps another bone, pass by our ears almost unheard.

  My hands are shaking. I have no idea how long we’ve been at this. David won’t put a stop to the fight until it’s over, completely over. One way or another. James lunges forward again. He wasn’t able to fully heal the fractured tibia I gave him a few minutes ago and he ends up off center, but it doesn’t stop him from landing a crippling blow to my head. I fall to one knee, drained, hurt past the point I can heal, half-starved from soaking up so much pain without letting myself consume it, but too close to the end to give in.

  Of everything, it’s my hunger that threatens to push me over the edge. As James pulls back for another punch, one that might finish me, I have nothing left to draw on but my hunger. I know it will give me that burst I need to finish James off. David has spent the last few weeks teaching me how to store the pain my hunger craves until I can safely release it, but he made it very clear that there were no rules in this fight. We were both free to use whatever means necessary to win.

  Pressing my knuckles into the mat, I shove myself back to my feet. James lurches toward me in what feels like slow motion. I breathe in a ragged breath, eating up the agony it causes to expand my lungs, adding it to the ball of heat in my bruised and bloodied chest that is the center of my hunger.

  James’ fist careens toward my face with unbelievable force. I know it will be enough to knock me out, at the very least, if I don’t do something. As if tattooed across his knuckles, I know this hit will douse the last hope I have of finding out the truth behind the Godlings and Eroi. A fresh trail of blood slithers down my forearm from a cut I had no strength to heal as I pull back one last time. I launch my fist at James and back it with my starved, crazed hunger, hoping it will be enough, begging for it to be enough.

  A blast of pure, white-hot light plows through the octagon as my fist connects with James’ face, throwing both of us back into the fenced walls of the octagon. My head and back slam into a pole, sending me sliding down to the mat with a grunt. James lands in a heap, clearly unconscious. My head and hand start throbbing as I lay there, barely able to see or move. Somewhere in the back of my woozy mind, I wonder what just happened, but my more immediate concern is whether anyone is going to help me back up.

  Seconds stretch by and no one comes. No one even makes a sound. The fire spreading through my cells makes moving torture, but I force myself up to standing, ready to demand someone get me an icepack…or a body cast. It takes every speck of my remaining strength not to stumble and collapse back to my knees when I finally make it to standing, but I find myself on two feet, staring at a sea of gaping mouths and saucer-sized eyes.

  My vi
sion wavers, and I suddenly can’t remember what I was doing. Putting a hand on one of the posts, I lean my head against it before I pass out. Somehow, David appears in front of me, staring at me through the fencing with a ravenous expression on his face. I can feel myself sliding back to the mat, the only solid thought I can hold onto is that this was exactly what David was waiting for.

  Chapter Fifteen: One Less Excuse

  (Vanessa)

  When Chris first ran into Ketchup and me, and mentioned isolation training, he made it sound so mysterious. Sitting in a completely black room in dead silence lost its mystery after about five minutes the first day. I’ve been doing this for two weeks now. Thankfully, Chris’ training wasn’t all blackness and silence, but I begin with thirty minutes of this every day.

  I’m supposed to be clearing my mind and focusing on a single thought, but today all I can think about is Zander and what he did yesterday. I tried to get to him as soon as the fight ended, but David wouldn’t let me near him. He hauled my unconscious brother off to the infirmary to rest and placed guards by his door—which really pissed me off.

  Later, when Zander trudged back to his room where I was waiting, all he could tell me was that he somehow used the pain he had stored up. That didn’t explain much. Over the last two weeks, we have both learned how to manage and make use of our hunger and the pain it craves. Trainers taught us how to store up the pain we feed on instead of letting our hunger gobble it up right away.

  The idea behind it is that we can use the pain like we would stored energy. I guess it was something we kind of understood already, like when I would sneak into the boxing gym to vent the hunger and frustration that had built up. David and the trainers showed us how to take it to a new level. Storing pain as energy lets us heal ourselves faster if we need to, boost our strength or speed, and amp up any other talents. I’ve been very careful not to make use of that last technique at all.