Wicked Power

by Gladden, DelSheree

  It feels even worse to hear Ketchup say it. I didn’t want to believe Zander might still be fixated on finding Ivy, but deep down, I knew he never stopped. The last few weeks of him being zeroed in on becoming the best Godling ever was just an act. I knew that level of focus wasn’t possible for anything other than finding revenge against Ivy and the Eroi.

  Ketchup can feel the tension in my body, making it pointless for me to answer. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “How about a fieldtrip after school today?” I ask.

  Immediately Ketchup perks up. “To Annabelle’s? You want to sneak in and see what they’re working on?”

  Elbowing him in the ribs, I say, “No! For one, she’s probably at home, so that would be a terrible idea. Plus, breaking into Ivy’s garage temple atrocity was a onetime thing.”

  Ketchup pouts, making it really hard to hold onto my irritation, but he concedes and stows away his enthusiasm for breaking and entering. “What did you have in mind then?”

  “Are you up for a trip to see Oscar?” I ask. “I thought maybe he could help me figure out what to do about Zander.”

  Scrunching his face, Ketchup pretends to weigh the options. “Breaking into Annabelle’s apartment or visiting a mental hospital.” He shifts his hands up and down, as if measuring the excitement of both activities. He shrugs and drops both hands. “Normally, a little B&E would win every time, but visiting Oscar is always interesting. Okay, I accept.”

  “You’re such a dork,” I say as I stand up. “Just meet me at your car after school, okay?”

  Ketchup abandons the rest of his homework and stands up as well. I tense, not sure what will happen. Things have been just a little weird between us since the incident with Noah, as Ketchup has come to call it.

  Before Noah walked up and lost it, I was ready to give in to Ketchup completely. He was more than ready to accept. Noah messed all that up. Not only am I confused about some of the things he said—and pissed at him for blowing up at me—watching him walk away from me hurt more than I expected. It wasn’t just the things he said, and the fear they inspired. It was losing him. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know how to pursue the reasons behind some of the upsetting comments Noah made without pushing Ketchup away, either. As usual, I just plain don’t know what to do about anything.

  I look up at Ketchup, knowing he is doing his best to be patient, but seeing all too clearly the desire in his eyes to get back to that moment makes me anxious. The awkward moment of us staring at each other ends as Ketchup wraps his arms around me in a hug. I want to return it wholeheartedly. I want to block out everything else. The pressure of too many problems crowding in on me makes that impossible.

  I sigh and settle for laying my head against Ketchup’s chest for just a moment. As strange and confusing as things are right now, it always seems a little less crazy when I’m with him. Ketchup takes his time releasing me after the bell rings. When his arms fall away, I can’t help sighing again. He smiles at the sound, but he doesn’t say anything. I take a step back slowly. “See you after school.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says with a smile.

  ***

  This is always the worst part of coming to visit Oscar. Waiting outside the visitation room, not knowing whether I will see my brother when I walk through the door, or his raving and unstable alter ego. My fingers tighten around Ketchup’s. He squeezes back and reaches for the door. I close my eyes for just a moment, hoping he’ll be okay today.

  Breathing in, I open my eyes and follow Ketchup into the visitation room. My feet root themselves to the floor at the sight of Oscar’s hands sitting free on top of the table. I hate myself for the fear that springs into my heart, but I can’t move. My mouth opens, but there is no breath in my body. I can’t speak or react. All I can do is stare.

  I haven’t seen my brother without his hands and feet shackled since he was arrested for murdering my parents.

  “Hey,” Ketchup says cheerfully, “no chains today. Did you finally find out where they keep the key?”

  My eyes double in size as my heart leaps into my throat. I snap my gaze over to Ketchup in disbelief that he would be so casual about this. Oscar’s laugh nearly causes me to give myself whiplash as I yank my head back to look at him. He folds his arms over his chest, a motion he was never able to do before, and shakes his head.

  “I always knew you were funnier than you let on,” Oscar says.

  Ketchup laughs. “Yeah, well, it’s no easy thing to be the funny guy around your family. Sometimes, I worry that if anyone laughs, they’ll crack into pieces.”

  Oscar chuckles again. “You’re probably more right than you know.” He turns to look at me, completely ignoring my shock and says, “Van, you better stick close to this guy. You don’t smile enough.”

  “I…” My head spins at this whole conversation. I knew Oscar has been doing loads better since David talked his doctors into letting us visit him more often, but I thought that mainly had to do with the sickness. Right now, he seems almost… sane.

  “Oscar,” I finally manage, “it’s good to see you like this.”

  My big brother grins a slightly frightening smile. “Chain-free or coherent?”

  “Both,” I say quickly.

  His mouth turns down slightly, and I wonder if he thinks I’m lying. Oscar shakes his head slowly. “It’s okay that you’re scared, Van. I understand.”

  I want to tell him that I’m not scared, that I’m thrilled to be in the same room with him while he’s free from chains and shackles. He would know I was lying, though, and that would be the end of this conversation.

  “I just wasn’t expecting it,” I say. “I am glad you’re doing so much better.”

  Oscar leans his elbows on the table as Ketchup and I sit down. I notice out of the corner of my eye that not only is the usual orderly standing just outside the door, a security guard and a doctor are as well. Clearly, I’m not the only one who’s nervous about this situation.

  “So, I guess the last two weeks went okay while we were gone,” I say.

  Oscar shrugs. “It was helpful to have a Godling around every day, even if he was one of David’s.”

  “The doctor he sent, was he nice? Did he treat you alright?”

  Again, Oscar shrugs noncommittally. “Nice. Cruel. Indifferent. Actions don’t mean as much as intention.”

  Ketchup frowns, no doubt thinking the same thing I am, that the saying is usually the opposite. I look back at Oscar. “What do you mean?”

  “The Godling doctor was fine. He did his job, kept me alive and all that. Just as David ordered. Everything he did was just as David ordered.” Oscar’s jaw tightens the slightest amount. “He was polite and professional, so no one would think twice about him. Under the radar, so no one would notice when he would switch from psychotherapy to Godling therapy.”

  “Godling therapy?” Ketchup asks. “What’s that?”

  “Same thing as regular therapy, just with different intentions.” Oscar taps the side of his nose, as if we should all understand exactly what he means.

  I don’t know about Ketchup, but I haven’t got a clue. “If the Godling doctor wasn’t here to help you get better, then why was he here?”

  “To get me out of here,” Oscar says simply.

  Ketchup and I glance over at each other. His earlier easy demeanor is gone. Concern plays on his features. “Why would the Godling doctor want to take you away from here?” Ketchup asks.

  “David,” I say quickly, “not the doctor. David wants Oscar out of here. He wants to take you to the compound, doesn’t he?”

  Leaning forward, Oscar regains his usual menacing air. The staff waiting just outside the door prickles. Oscar pays them no mind. “It isn’t just me David wants,” he says.

  “What?” Ketchup demands.

  Oscar doesn’t answer his question. Instead he powers on with his own thoughts. “David can take Van and Zander whenever he wants,
but not me. I’m under lock and key… safe. David wants me out, but he won’t get what he wants.”

  “Why not?” I ask quietly.

  “Because I won’t let him.”

  Confused, I look at my brother searchingly. “But, Oscar, I thought you wanted out of here.”

  “I did, before David showed back up, but now I have to stay here and be safe.”

  “Safe from what?” I ask.

  “From everyone.”

  That familiar feeling of falling off the merry-go-round I often get after talking with Oscar settles in like a thick blanket. Does Oscar actually know something that makes him fear trusting the Godlings… or everyone? Is this just more of his paranoia bubbling to the surface? There’s no way for me to know for sure.

  Before I can come to anything concrete, Oscar switches topics. “Tell me what Zander has been up to. He’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t he?”

  “How’d you guess?” Ketchup asks drily.

  Laughing, Oscar says, “Everyone thinks I’m the one who causes all the trouble, but Zander is the real culprit.”

  Yes, he certainly is, I agree silently. Sometimes, I worry my entire life is going to be nothing more than trying to keep Zander alive and out of jail. It’s practically a full-time job.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Oscar says.

  I know our visitation time is starting to run short, so I give Oscar a brief overview of Zander’s lingering obsession with Ivy and the Eroi, Annabelle’s arrival, and Zander’s request for the copies of the book. When I finish, Oscar stares blankly at a spot somewhere between mine and Ketchup’s heads. I silently wonder if he has checked out.

  “Does he understand her or hate her?” Oscar asks suddenly. I try to answer that I don’t know, but Oscar keeps talking. “Is it bravery or idiocy? Zander is a creature of habit, but this habit cannot afford to be indulged if it is the wrong habit. Intentions, little Van. Intentions are everything.”

  Okay, that wasn’t entirely helpful. I sigh, feeling frustrated, but not ready to give up. “You seemed to understand Zander and what was going through his head last time. Can you guess what he’s planning?”

  “What he’s planning,” Oscar says, “is to find the truth.” He scratches the top of his head as he thinks, leaving his hair sticking up in strange ways. “Zander tried to pretend for years that he didn’t care what the truth was. He saw me searching, losing myself, and told himself he didn’t care. He pretended and convinced himself until he forgot he ever wanted it. But that can’t last. He wants the answers just as much as I did, and he will do whatever it takes to get them.”

  “Including going after Ivy and the Eroi,” I say.

  Oscar nods. “It doesn’t matter if he kills her or spares her. His actions are the end result. His intentions will decide the path he takes to get there. Understanding and knowledge will make him cautious. Hate breeds recklessness.”

  Shaking his head again, Oscar presses his hands to his ears. I look over at Ketchup, worried that Oscar is getting too agitated for us to stay, considering he is free. I see people crowded around the door, watching very intently, giving me the distinct impression that I am nothing more to them than a lab rat used to test the durability of Oscar’s mental status.

  Giving up on trying to get Oscar to guess what Zander’s plans are, I decide to ask him about something else entirely. “Oscar, do you know anything about the special gift the Godlings are looking for?”

  Oscar’s head whips up so violently that I’m sure something snapped in his neck. His eyes blaze with some emotion I don’t understand, but I am instantly terrified of.

  “The Gift,” he rumbles, “the Gift. We shouldn’t talk about the Gift. David might hear us. He might start to suspect. Don’t talk about the Gift. We must keep it secret.”

  “Uh,” Ketchup interrupts, “it might be a little late for that.”

  All the air seems to go out of Oscar’s body. “What?” he begs. “Who? Van?”

  I shake my head. “My hunger hasn’t even erupted yet.”

  “Zander!” Oscar growls. “Stupid boy! Why would he do it? The Gift should be a secret. David can’t have the gift. He can’t. You can’t let him get it, Van!”

  “I won’t!” I say quickly. “It’s not like Zander even knew what happened anyway. Besides, it might not even be the Gift. It was just this weird thing that happened when Zander was fighting this other Godling.”

  “What? What happened?” Oscar demands.

  I give him the details as quickly as possible, barely breathing even after I finish speaking. I don’t know which explanation I want to hear more, that Zander might actually have this special Gift that could end the war with the Eroi, or that it’s all a load of crap.

  Finally, Oscar lets out a breath and slumps into his chair. “It was just an accident.” He nods, seeming comforted by that thought. “Zander must be more careful. David will not rest until he has control of the Gift. He will do anything to have it.”

  “So, does Zander really have the Gift?” Ketchup asks.

  “It’s possible,” Oscar says. Absently, he rocks back and forth in his chair. “David will not stop until he finds out for sure. Even if it is not the Gift, David will want to keep Zander. He is a collector.”

  “A collector of what?” I ask.

  Oscar’s eyes narrow to slits. “Of power. Godling power. Wicked power. All he cares about, all he desires. Power is what he craves. He collects it and turns it into wicked glory, the glory of ruling everything and everyone.”

  I feel like banging my head against the table suddenly. Zander may or may not be losing all self-control when it comes to tracking down Ivy, which may or may not get him killed. My hunger is strangely absent, despite the Godlings poking at me for two weeks trying to figure out what is taking it so long. All that accomplished was to freak me out even more because apparently the longer it takes to erupt, the more violent it will be. Now I’ve got a psychotic, power-hungry overlord who won’t stop until he brainwashes my brother into becoming one of his drones who will do whatever horrible, nasty things he wants him to do. Could my life possibly get any worse?

  Chapter Twenty: Sketchy Vision

  (Vanessa)

  Hurrying down the stairs Monday morning, I shove my phone into my pocket and struggle to get a hoodie over my head without tripping and killing myself. By the time I make it to the bottom, I get both my arms through and try to smooth my hair back down. I’m only minimally successful, but I don’t have time for anything else. I round the corner, skidding to a stop.

  “Vanessa, running late as usual, I see,” David says. His calm, arrogant voice gets my hackles up like nothing else can.

  “David, snide and unpleasant as usual, I see. How nice.” My deadpan has no effect on him at all. He goes on drinking his coffee, as if he didn’t even hear me. Screw him. Grabbing a banana out of the fridge, I make a beeline for the hallway. I nearly cry out when David’s hand reaches out and grasps my arm painfully.

  “What is your problem?” I snap.

  His flat expression belies his squeezing grip on my arm. “Your grandmother said there was an incident last week. An outsider witnessed your healing abilities.”

  “He didn’t witness anything,” I growl. “By the time he got to me, my arm was already completely healed. He didn’t even say a word about it. Ask Zander if you want. Noah was too busy yelling at me to notice my arm anyway.”

  David finally releases me, but the look on his face in no way excuses me from his presence. “Why was this Noah person here, and what were you fighting about?”

  “None of your business.” I fold my arms across my chest. “It was personal.”

  “Vanessa,” David says condescendingly, “every aspect of your life is my business, especially the personal areas.”

  David stands, towering over me. I hate that he intimidates me so badly. I hurriedly step back and bump into the cupboard behind me.

  “If I ask you a personal question, I expect you to answer
me,” David says. The eerie calm of his voice freezes me. “Nothing is beyond my reach. If I want to know why you were fighting with another boy after I just allowed Ketchup to spend two weeks inside the compound, you will tell me. If I want to know just how serious you are about your relationship with Ketchup and if this Noah character is going to jeopardize that, you will tell me. If I want to know the exact number of times you have kissed Ketchup and whether or not the two of you have done more than that, you… will… tell me. Do you understand?”

  My entire body is rigid and hot, burning with anger and fear. I hate him for making me feel like this. I hate him for prying into my life and trying to control me. More than anything, I hate him for knowing I will answer him in the exact way he wants me to.

  “Yes,” I snarl. “I understand.”

  “Good. Now answer my question.”

  Unlocking my jaw, I square myself up as much as I can. There’s no way I’m going to tell him the truth, so I opt for a viable alternate. “Noah was my English partner last semester. We had a project we were working on. He made it clear from the beginning that he had feelings for me. I made it equally clear that I wasn’t interested in a relationship…with anyone. Before going to the compound, he asked if Ketchup and I were spending the holidays together. I told him no, because nobody had bothered to tell me otherwise at that point. He showed up here when we got home, saw me kissing Ketchup, and flipped out. Happy?”

  “You kissed Ketchup?”

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. “Yes. Why do you care?”

  “Are you and Ketchup dating now?”

  Breathe. Don’t kill David. Don’t kill David. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. We’re just not, okay? What is your deal with Ketchup?” His weird fixation on him is really starting to freak me out. Do I need to worry about competition? What is wrong with him?

  David smirks at me, as if he knows what he is about to say will bother me. I’m already pissed. “I care, because not many outsiders are allowed within the compound. I took a big risk granting Ketchup’s request, because I believed you and he were in a serious and lasting relationship. Was I wrong?”