Gifted, A Donovan Circus Novel

by Liz Long

  “I should know better than to get involved with someone like Gabriel. He’s moody and standoffish and he tries so hard to make sure no one thinks he cares. He does things for himself and he probably won’t change that habit any time soon. And where the hell did he even find someone who looked like that in our audience to already sleep with him?”

  I was angry with him, but I also had to be realistic—I blew him off despite his honesty and hurt his feelings. Guys like Gabriel didn’t take rejection well. I wasn’t about to date him now due to my recently renewed fear of STDs, but it wasn’t like I could ignore him in this place. It also made me realize that if he could turn around after a fight and do that within a few hours, maybe I didn’t want to be with him after all. I’d at least like him to wait a day before sleeping with anyone else, maybe get a meal or two in.

  How stupid was I for even thinking it could work? Besides, I did really like Keegan; he was a great guy, so sweet and friendly. He seemed to genuinely like me and we had fun together. How could I even think about hurting him that way? I could have a great thing with him. I didn’t want us on bad terms and make things awkward or even worse, cause tension between any friends. I didn’t want to lose my new friends—I couldn’t imagine any of them siding with me when they’d been together for so long.

  Gabriel was a bad boy, Keegan was the popular, wholesome one, and I was becoming a high school tragedy. I really needed to get over myself when there were bigger events at play.

  “My new strategy is to stay the hell away from all of it,” I mumbled. It was the only way I could avoid the trouble. Keep things with Gabriel purely professional—that brunette in his trailer was my reminder of why I never jumped into things. Keep things with Keegan casual. Don’t put my friends in the middle of my boy drama. There—now it was time for the next problem.

  I had to figure out how I was going to clear my name from Marty’s murder. That one was the highest priority with the least amount of solutions. How the eff was I going to get out of this?

  I checked my appearance in the rearview mirror. Bags underneath my glassy, red eyes made me look as though I hadn’t slept in weeks. I looked pale, even underneath the newly acquired tan from hours in the sun. The last few weeks, hell, the last few years showed in my face.

  I breathed deep and got out of the car for fresh air. I wasn’t ready to head back yet. I walked over to examine the ground where Marty’s body was left the other night. Bits of gravel crunched beneath my feet as I shifted to get a closer look. There were still scorch marks in the dirt.

  “I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” I muttered.

  “Talking to yourself is the first sign of losing it,” a voice from the woods replied.

  I froze. While the lurking was a Gabriel play, that was not his voice. I didn’t recognize it at all. I could only process one thing: I was not alone in the darkness.

  Chapter 22

  “Who’s there?” I called out to the shadows. I turned my wrist to conceal a small flame in my palm in case I should be prepared.

  A figure emerged from the dark. I could only make out the silhouette, but as it got closer, details became clearer. He had a small frame, graying dark hair and he dressed in khakis with a white button-down shirt. Moonlight bounced off black-rimmed glasses over brown eyes that never left my stare. He stopped a few feet from where I stood and I could see a crooked nose where it had presumably been broken once or twice. Who was this nerd? I almost looked for a pocket protector on his chest.

  “Hello, Lucy,” he said. His voice had a nasally pitch to it. I didn’t trust it for a second.

  “And you are?” I asked. I didn’t lose the fire in my hand just yet.

  “My name is Dr. Felix J. Hardy.”

  A memory that seemed from a hundred years ago hit me. Oh no. This was the guy who destroyed Brooklyn’s mother. He looked nothing like I pictured—where was his black turtleneck or bloodstained lab coat?

  I wanted to smack myself. I really needed to stop wandering out in the dark alone. Don’t panic, Luce. Play it cool and get him out of here. Then get to Sheffield.

  “What are you doing here, Felix? I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here.”

  “Are you the new security around here?” he guffawed.

  “In a manner of speaking, maybe I am,” I replied. It wasn’t entirely untrue, at least. My response made his chuckle fade away.

  “Shame what happened to the last one. What was his name? Martin?”

  “Marty.”

  “Ah, yes. Marty. He was an Unbreakable, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yeah. So did you really drive Brooklyn’s mom crazy?”

  Felix didn’t respond; he merely looked at me with a calm expression on his face. I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a dangerous human who knew ways to actually hurt me if he got close enough.

  “She was an unfortunate loss. I very much would have liked to use her gift. Now that you mention it, I wonder if Brooklyn would be interested in conducting an experiment?” he asked.

  My hand itched to slap the amusement off his face. “I wouldn’t suggest it to her—unless you want to have your testicles removed.”

  “What happened to her mother was an accident. She should’ve been cured and I should’ve been a Telepath.”

  His cold tone made me cringe inside. “What are you doing here, Felix?”

  “I was in the area. Thought I’d say hello to some old friends and on my way in, look who I find first—Lenny Sullivan’s little girl. I haven’t seen you since you were very small.”

  His mentioning my father felt like bait. I needed to keep my temper under control. My flame wavered angrily in my hand.

  “You knew my dad. So what?”

  “Lucy, I took care of your dad and the others here for a long time. I’m a doctor.”

  “I thought you were a scientist.”

  “Well, the two can be interchangeable.”

  “Cut the crap, Felix. I know you’re not here to get nostalgic.” I held my head high, determined to not give him any the satisfaction of intimidating me.

  “Despite whatever awful things I’m sure people told you, I’m not that bad a guy.”

  “So they just wanted to tell me scary bedtime stories?” I asked.

  “I can’t speak for them, but I’m really not evil. I want to help you, all of your kind.”

  “Gifted or Firestarters?” I asked.

  “Well, both,” he said with a smile.

  I said nothing and he observed me for a moment. I kept a straight face, determined not to give him any possible ammunition.

  “You seem skeptical,” he finally said. “Someone must have told you bedtime stories.”

  “No,” I said. “They told me how you went all crazy and steal us off the streets for your own ridiculous experiments.”

  “I don’t kidnap, silly girl,” he said without missing a beat. “I have willing participants. They all know I can help them.”

  “How do you figure? There’s nothing wrong with us.”

  “Some aren’t as comfortable in their gift as you may be. For those that don’t want their gift, I can be of assistance. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be normal for once? To not be a freakish outcast in everyday situations, like grocery stores or malls? To not live in fear of hurting anyone or causing destruction?”

  Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I paused. Of course I had wished to be normal; I didn’t know even one person who didn’t go at least once in their life wondering. Every day of my life was a gamble. The fear had ruled me in high school.

  But that was then and this was now. I had no desire to be whatever Felix thought normal to be. It took me years to feel acceptance of my gift. I wasn’t going to let Felix trick me into doubting myself in a few minutes.

  However, Felix picked up my hesitation and pounced on it. “So you have thought about it?”

  “We all do at some point, of course. But I’m pretty happy whe
re I am now. Besides, it seems like these days people wish they were gifted. I mean, don’t you want to be one of us?”

  I didn’t expect a response. Actually, no—I expected him to get mad. I wanted to push his buttons. I was getting impatient and saw no reason to fear this guy. He seemed to be all talk. Instead, he smiled.

  “But I am one of you, Lucy,” he responded. He took several steps towards me.

  “You’re really not,” I responded warily, holding my ground. He would get no satisfaction from threatening me.

  “Sure I am. How do you think I found you? I’m a Tracker.”

  The flames faded from my palms as my heart sank. He’d taken Knox. If he was a Tracker, that meant he probably killed Knox for his gift. First my dad, now Marty, and Knox…Sheffield was the only one left from his close circle.

  “You stole that gift from Knox.” My tone left no room for argument.

  “I prefer the term borrowed. If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a seat, so don’t get all twitchy and set me on fire, got it?”

  Felix walked towards me and my body tensed up, but he merely brushed past me and went to a vehicle two spaces from mine. He lowered the back door of the truck and sat on the bed. He motioned to my car.

  “Maybe you have a seat, too. Calm your nerves so we can talk. I’m not here to attack you.”

  I said nothing, but slowly walked over and had a seat on the hood of my car. I got as comfortable as I could while still keeping a very careful eye on Felix. He didn’t even flinch; he waited patiently until I was finally still. I broke the silence first.

  “Borrowed, huh? Does that mean Knox is still alive?”

  “I don’t have to kill the owner to take their gift.”

  “Where is Knox?”

  He ignored my question. “You can’t take what Sheffield says at face value, Lucy. Your father took you away from the gifted world for a reason. Maybe he wasn’t worried about me. Sheffield is no innocent bystander,” he said in a low voice.

  “I don’t know what that means, so spit it out. I don’t want to sit out in the parking lot all night,” I replied.

  “Of course Sheffield and his gang will tell you awful stories of how I’m the scary mad scientist who steals gifts in the night. But he’s got plenty of blood on his hands, as well as Marty and Knox. And I’m sorry to say, but your dad, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your dad was part of Sheffield’s little crew ‘til the day he died. You know how powerful he was—he was protection against any potential threats. Lenny would stand up and fight anyone who raised a commotion against Sheffield or their group. He was fiercely loyal. No one dared messed with one of the most powerful Firestarters in history.”

  I was uncomfortable. He was describing what I was sure Sheffield wanted me to be. I clenched my hands into fists to prevent any accidental flames.

  “Marty was also protection, but he didn’t have his own mind like Lenny did. He did all of Sheffield’s bidding. He ran errands, talked to the lower citizens, and bullied those who argued into seeing it Sheffield’s way.”

  “And you think Knox went after those with especially good gifts?” I suggested, looking down at my lap.

  “Oh, yes. Sheffield only surrounds himself with those who are supremely gifted. I shouldn’t have to tell you that,” he added with a sly smile. “He sent Knox out to find those who excelled and bring them back to the show to work. Knox would seek them out and Marty would more or less encourage them to join their troupe. The group with you now is young, but full of potential and Sheffield wants you all to excel for his benefit.”

  “You said they had blood on their hands. No one here I’ve talked to has ever mentioned being forced into coming here to perform.”

  “You’re impatient. Can’t even let me tell a good story correctly,” he remarked. I fell silent and he continued.

  “Not all other circuses think Donovan Circus is a great idea. Some think it’s dangerous to put so many gifted under one tent, so to speak. One mistake could put your people in the spotlight. But Sheffield’s never been one to take criticism well. I can say that from personal experience. One time I had to sew up a nasty arm wound and he bit my head off when I questioned how he got it. I had to drop the topic he got so defensive.”

  “You’re talking around me. How does Sheffield, or my father for that matter, have blood on their hands?”

  “Just because no one you’ve met complains about being here doesn’t mean they’re all happy or here of their own free will. And I know some of the mutinous ones aren’t here anymore.”

  “Sheffield’s made it clear if I don’t want to be here, I’m free to go of my own accord.”

  “Well, sure he wants you to think that. You’re Lenny’s kid; he’s not going to burn you—pardon the expression. But others who aren’t close family friends don’t get any special treatment.”

  “I do not get special treatment,” I interjected.

  “You’re here, aren’t you? After all that time being away, Sheffield lets you waltz back in without any complications, lets you show off despite others spending years of hard work to get to that point? Sounds like favoritism to me.”

  “Maybe I’m actually talented,” I muttered.

  “Don’t tell me you’re another arrogant Firestarter. Those gifted types are dreadful.”

  “I’m not that person.”

  “Perhaps. But I’ve been around a bit longer than you. After all, you just got here. I know how Sheffield’s mind works some days. It’s not only favoritism. He’s grooming you to take your dad’s place.”

  “It might not be something I’m opposed to, if it means I’m keeping you out of camp and away from everyone here,” I said.

  “You should have all the facts. He’s smart, he’s charismatic, and he’s very ambitious. He’ll go for whatever he wants. After all, with a gift like his, he practically can have whatever he wants.”

  I looked up from my clenched hands at Felix, looked for the lies on his face. I saw none—did Felix actually know Sheffield’s gift?

  He observed me for a moment then raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know?”

  “I just got here, remember? I’m still catching up with everything I’ve missed.”

  “Hm. I would’ve thought Lenny told you.” He sounded more pleased than perplexed, as though he enjoyed being the one to break the news.

  “Well, he didn’t. What’s Sheffield’s gift already?”

  “Sheffield’s gift is unique, extremely rare. He is what you would call a Collector.”

  “A what?”

  He gave a melodramatic sigh. “A Collector. It’s a very dangerous, very powerful gift and extremely detrimental to the gifted community.”

  “What does it entail?”

  “A Collector can do two things when properly trained. Firstly, Sheffield, a very charming man, has managed to obtain gifted personalities from all over the world to be in his army. Should a war ever come to his camp, he’ll be the most protected bastard out there. You think anyone in that camp is going to let someone hurt Sheffield? There are plenty willing to die for him. But that’s a bonus—the talent is how he literally gathers and collects gifted. He surrounds himself with supremely talented people who have potential for great things. He hones their gifts, helps them focus and become that much better.”

  “How does he do that?”

  “He trains you as a mentor would. He’s been around a long time, can wield any gift as his own if he chooses. He shows you how to defend yourself physically and mentally. You’re Lenny’s kid, you gotta get this reference—he’s like your Obi Wan.”

  “Don’t blaspheme a classic with this nonsensical story,” I responded. I tried not to sound as infuriated as I felt when he mentioned my dad’s favorite movie character. No way had my father ever been on a personal level with this psycho.

  “The second and far more dangerous skill for a Collector is they can take anyone’s gift at any given point. It’s how Sheffield has so
much knowledge and skill; he takes a person’s gift, instructs them on the best way to get better, and gives it back. He learns it as if it were his own gift. With one touch, he can leave you powerless. Once they have your gift, you don’t get it back until he’s through with it.”

  “I’m confused. So does his touch take away your gift entirely?”

  “When Collectors first come into their gift, it’s temporary. As they get stronger and grow experienced, like him, they can hold on to it for longer periods of time until he can take it away permanently. He can give their power back if he chooses. I’ve seen Sheffield use his gift on those who disagreed with him. He uses it as leverage, a way to get what he wants. He shows them how vulnerable they can be without him, without their gift and his help. Once they’ve agreed with his demands, he gives their gift back to them.”

  Felix went silent and I stared at my lap again as he watched my every move. I knew he was searching for a reaction while I tried to process this information. If it were true, I had to agree that it was a dangerous gift. But Sheffield had never given the impression he’d use it the way Felix implied. Both my parents had trusted him completely and he was nothing but generous to me. I couldn’t base my opinions strictly on what Felix said anyway; last I checked, he was the bad guy.

  I looked up at him. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with this information, but I’m not gonna wig out or anything.”

  “I would hope not. That would be very prejudiced of you. I felt certain you’d want to check your facts before jumping to any conclusions, regardless of where your information came from,” he replied with that sly smile again.

  “No offense, but I think I’m gonna head out now,” I said. I hopped off my car and took a couple steps back towards the campgrounds.

  “Did you ever think that you are who you are because your father wanted it that way?” Felix called out to me. I turned around, annoyed.

  “What the hell are you going on about now?”

  “Perhaps your father raised you how he did, took you away from the show, in hopes you wouldn’t follow his footsteps.”