Pulling in close, Isolde’s lips brush against my ear. “Silly, Oscar. You should know by now that my games are never pointless.”
Daddy, be strong, Joshua whispers just before something cold presses against a spot of bare skin above my waistband and electricity explodes inside of me.
I’m on the ground before I realize my muscles are no longer under my control. Flashes of memory from the hospital, from treatments and torture, assault me just as surely as the fire ripping through me. The missing pieces I’ve tried so hard to fill and forget are suddenly bursting apart, growing, expanding, stealing rational thought, logic, humanity. I can barely process anything outside my own agony, but I catch a glimpse of a stun gun in Isolde’s hand as she looks down at me with a superior smile.
What is left of the Eroi forces flood into the room, guns at the ready, targeted on Godlings of every age. They are oblivious to what has rendered us Godlings utterly helpless.
Moans and howls echo through the room. Children wail in equal parts fear and blinding hunger. The little Richiamos suck up my pain even as the other Godlings are incensed by it, their hunger roiling. Zander fights his desires, Annabelle has collapsed, unable to bear the hunger and pain of those around her. Rolling to attempt escaping the pain, I only induce more, and the sounds of unraveling increase in volume. The only pocket of stillness is the little dark-haired girl calling to me with her well of exquisite agony.
Arms wrapped around herself, eyes squeezed shut, she blocks out everything and awaits the death she knows is inevitable. The control I thought I had dissolves into nothingness. Nothing I took in at the hospital, held, saved without letting it consume me, was like this. Not even Ivy.
Something outside of me drags my body up from the floor, to my knees, as far as my still quivering muscles can manage. I reach out to her, and don’t understand why she takes a step toward me. The last bit of sanity I have managed to hold onto tells me to run, to shove her away, that she will be my undoing. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else does. Only tasting her pain, consuming it until it consumes me, matters anymore.
Daddy, a little voice whispers, be strong.
“I can’t.”
My voice is dead, empty, like my soul. And my control. Lunging forward, I have the girl in my hands, her well of suffering bursting into me as soon as my hands grip her thin arms. A howl of rage and ecstasy is torn from my lips. Hefting her thin body into my arms does something to me, reminds me of fragility, of her need for someone in this hellish existence to protect her. But her pain is too sweet, too irresistible. It whispers to me that if I take it all, I can end this, end everyone, but end this war, the pain, the lies, the hatred and fear.
And me, Joshua says. It will end me, end the Gift.
“There is no Gift!” I rage as I begin siphoning away Sonya’s pain, power, and life. Lies. All lies! They promised us, said there was a way to end all the suffering. But they lied! I can’t escape them. Never. Everywhere I turn, more lies!
I am not a lie.
My hunger falters. For a split second, clarity sparks. A tiny hand pats against my leg. A palpable change comes over the room. Even Isolde feels it. Her gaze locks with mine, and she can no longer keep the fear from her eyes. Neither of us knows what it happening. Everyone can feel it, though, feel power shifting, moving, doing things that feel both unnatural and instinctually right.
Only I can see my son drawing away what I’ve taken from Sonya, then sending it back out to specific targets. Annabelle. Zander. Van. Links form, but not just tethers, connections. Emotional clairvoyance and healing from Annabelle. Strength and understanding of Richiamos from Zander. Healing and knowledge of future acts from Van. The links flare as Joshua begins drawing from them, borrowing their abilities and puling it back into himself. I lose track of the individual threads as he consumes them, but can feel them meshing into something entirely different.
I’m no longer consciously drawing from Sonya, but Joshua is, through me, until more power than his little body should be able to hold is packed into his center like a balloon stretched to the moment right before it will burst apart. Terror is strangely absent as I watch my son let go of my pant leg and open his hands. An expression too serious for someone so young, tenses his features. He whispers, “Ba!” and claps his hands together.
His bubble of power pops, washing over the room, clinging to those within it, then racing outward in search of others. How far, I can’t even guess. I don’t know when other Godlings like Chris and Caleb arrived, but they too are covered in Joshua’s power, not immune from its effects. Bits of power cling to every living person it touches, sinking into them, eliciting a response from each person, but not the same one. In that moment, truth makes me weak. I drop to one knee, but keep Sonya safe against my chest as the words I stole come back to me and proclaim our moment of judgement.
Those unworthy to bear the influence of the Gift will shrink before it. All those who stand in opposition will be destroyed.
The children are first, their souls purer and easier to evaluate. Adults are not so easy, some more than others. My gaze locks on Isolde, to the terror she is facing as power scours her for something worth saving. Only Joshua and I can see the power coalesce on her sternum, into the shape of the snake tattoo, but she can feel it. Isolde is as doomed as I am. Realization hits her, but it’s already too late. Her life winks out and she falls ingloriously to the concrete, dead alongside her dreams of ruling what never belonged to her. So do the other snake-bearing demons.
Those remaining in the room don’t concern me. My family is safe. As Joshua’s power sinks deeper into my soul, I know my end is near and lay the unconscious Sonya down on the floor in front of me. Prepared, I turn to face my son. When I open my arms to him, he stumbles into my embrace and lays his head against my chest. Power buzzes within me, gathering at the source of my life and power. A strange sort of peace settles over me as judgment approaches, disturbed by only one thing.
“This isn’t you fault,” I tell Joshua. I can leave him knowing my family and Emily will forever love and care for him. My actions were my own, my choices mine to face. I will accept judgement, but I will not allow him to feel responsible for my death.
He pats his hand against my shoulder in comfort and I hug him more tightly as his power coalesces, squeezes, judges a lifetime of mistakes and pain and hurt done to others. Regret crushes me, hope that my son will be a better man assaults me, acceptance that despite the utter failure of my life, I helped produce at least one beautiful thing. I kiss Joshua’s head and whisper, “I love you.”
Slobbery lips smack against my cheek, dispelling the power and stealing my strength. Hands grab at me when I crumple. Frozen, I wait for my life to end. I wait for life to wink out, as it did with Isolde.
I wait.
Can we go get Mommy now? Joshua asks. I don’t like it down here.
Joshua sits in my lap, off kilter thanks to my awkward angle of half-lying, half being supported by Zander. Slowly, I force myself up to sitting and stare at my son. “What just happened? Why didn’t I die like the others?”
Tilting his head to one side, Joshua sticks his fingers in his mouth and stares at me. Because you’re not bad. His gaze is pulled away from mine a moment later and joy lights up his features. Reaching upward, he calls out, “Mama! Mama!”
Emily bursts into tears as she crashes into us and throws her arms around our bodies, hugging us together. Her relief seems to bring the room back to life. Sobbing, hugging, careful stepping over dead Godlings and Eroi, checking for injuries, and asking questions erupts all around us. For a very long time, I can do nothing but sit on the floor with my family in stunned silence.
There are shaken, lost Eroi standing around me, leaderless and confused by what just happened. They must be the ones who joined Isolde from Noah’s old group, not members of whatever disgusting group she belonged to, but I don’t care about them. Thoughts of what we’re supposed to do now, how we’re meant to rebuild and reconnect with our l
ost purpose and long-ago allies, all swirl around in my mind until I realize…they’re the only thoughts. Sane thoughts. Logical thoughts. Calm thoughts.
Do you like being fixed? Joshua asks, though he’s too busy playing with Emily’s hair to look at me.
“You did this?” I question, drawing Emily’s attention to the seemingly one-sided conversation.
Joshua’s head bobs up and down. With Van’s help. I borrowed her power, but I gave it back after. She didn’t mind.
Tears spill down my face unchecked. I pull my son into my arms and feel no shame in my relief and gratitude. “Thank you,” I whisper as I kiss his head. I don’t understand how something so pure and precious could come from someone as broken and damaged as me, but my son is not a lie. He is everything he was meant to be. Truly Godling.
Epilogue
(Ketchup)
“It feels good to be back,” Van says from where she’s lying next to me in her deck chair. “Europe was great, but coming home is even better.” She smiles when Asha and Case launch themselves into the pool, white hair streaming behind them.
Hope and Peace. Case is about the least peaceful kid I’ve ever met, but I suppose we had it coming after Asha was such an easy baby, and truly did bring hope that life could be everything we wanted it to be. In the months after the war with the Eroi ended, none of us were sure what would happen, whether all those deaths had actually made a difference.
Van and I witnessed the least of the destruction, but I know there are still nights she wakes up in a panic from dreams about that day. Most of the surviving Godlings and Eroi do, though most won’t admit it. It’s been better since Asha was born, but I always know Van needs to come home and recharge when she has a nightmare. The last night in Paris, after her tour with the Paris Opera Ballet came to a close, she woke up sweating, heart racing. I scheduled our flights home that morning. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen her in six months.
“My mom wants to go to dinner tonight,” I tell Van. “I think she and Dad have been having withdrawals not seeing the kids for so long.”
Without opening her eyes, Van smiles languidly. “Sounds perfect. I’ve missed them both.”
My mom is our children’s only biological grandparent, but my step dad loves them the same as if they shared his blood, and I can’t help echoing Van’s love of being back here, surrounded by family connected by so much more than blood could ever offer.
“You guys gonna swim, or just bake in the sun all day?” Joshua asks, forgoing the mind speak he stills likes to startle people with when he can. His shadow blocks the sun, casting his lanky eleven-year-old form in shadow.
“Leave them alone,” Sonya says as she shoves him playfully. “They just got back. They’re probably exhausted.”
“Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you get to boss me around,” Joshua complains, though his heart isn’t in it. He’s too busy grinning up at her, adoring his adopted older sister as usual. Even with the ten year age gap between them—and the fact that she almost caused the destruction of our entire family and species—she is the center of his world. Even his three younger, biological siblings don’t quite compare to what they share.
I jump when a large form collapses into the chair on the other side of me. “Go play,” Zander says. “Chloe is bringing the other kids down. Let the adults relax for a second.”
“I’m an adult,” Sonya argues. “Why do I have to babysit?”
Zander chuckles. “Because you know you love it, now go.”
Turning her nose up, twenty-one-year-old Sonya saunters toward the pool, pushing Joshua in on the way. He shrieks on his way into the water, but comes up laughing. It’s not long before Sonya jumps in as well and a massive splashing war commences. The bedlam only gets worse when Zander’s brood joins the fray, Chloe leading the way. Annabelle bypasses Zander with a quick smile and takes up residence next to Van. Chatter about Paris starts up and I turn to Zander.
“Where are Oscar and Em?”
He shrugs. “Running the school still, I guess.”
Rolling my eyes, I settle back into my chair and watch the kids play for a while. Oscar and Emily are the only ones who live at the school full-time. Despite the fact that Oscar’s presence here is still, technically, a secret, he lives his life as normally as anyone else, operating the school with Emily and teaching young Godlings everything they need to know to live happy lives and serve those around them. Caleb and Chris are still around to help, but the leader the Godlings chose based on pure strength of power and destructive capability ended up being the right one after all. He loves being here with all of them.
Oscar asked Zander to stay on after he graduated, but teaching was never his best area. No one was really surprised when he and Annabelle took off that next summer. I think it still irks a lot of people that all his offered scholarships were turned down, but those who have benefitted from his and Annabelle’s humanitarian work with children across the world certainly appreciate his choice.
“How’s the new girl you guys brought back?” I ask.
“Abayomi? She’s struggling a little with the language since we brought her back from Nigeria, but she’s already learning to control her hunger and use her power for more than destruction. She’ll be fine.”
To outsiders, they see Zander and Annabelle’s organization as something good and simple. They do help children in need all across the world, but they also search for those who need more than food and shelter. I’ve lost count of how many Richiamos and Godlings they’ve rescued from abusive homes or institutions. It started the day the Eroi invaded, when Zander’s newly awoken gift led him to the Richiamos spread throughout the campus so he could pull them from their captors, calm their pain, and get them to safety. Most were trained and allowed to reconnect with their parents. None refused his help once they experienced what Godling hunger could truly do for them. When he and Annabelle learned Chloe didn’t have anyone to go back to, there hadn’t been a question as to what would happen to her. She’s as much a part of their family as their other three children.
And neither she nor Sonya show any signs of their Richiamos bloodline taking them from us sooner than any other normal, healthy kid. There are still unknowns, but the more we’ve learned about them and the Godlings, the more optimistic everyone is about the future.
“What’s with all you lazy bums lying around when there’s a volleyball net going up?” A new voice demands.
Van springs up from her deck chair and throws her arms around Noah. That might have bothered me once, but now I just smile. “Where’s the new baby?” Van demands. “I’ve been dying to see her since you sent pictures a few weeks ago.”
Laughing, Noah gestures back at the school. “Morgan’s bringing her down in a minute. She just woke up from a nap.”
Next to me, Zander chuckles, and I instantly know why. Morgan was one of the first he and Annabelle brought back. No one had been sure she’d be able to be tamed. She’d been left to fend for herself for so long, abandoned by her parents when they couldn’t handle her wild temper as a child, only her gift to sense pain from a distance led her to other Godlings. Trust was so foreign to her, though, she skirted them, staying near enough to keep herself alive, but practically living like an animal. She’d fought Zander like one too, having to be sedated to be transported back to the school.
Not even Chris had been eager to jump in and teach her. Something about the wild girl caught Noah’s attention, and they became inseparable. It took the better part of eight years to teach her control and how to survive in regular society, but Noah is nothing if not persistent.
Everyone smiles when the beautiful dark-skinned woman follows Emily and Oscar toward the pool a few minutes later, with the first Godling-Eroi child in her arms. Watching her interact with the others, beaming as she does, no one would ever guess her beginnings. Noah is grinning just as widely as Van as she takes his daughter from Morgan’s arms and coos at her. I can’t help but think back to those day
s when I feared Van would never love me, that Noah would steal her away, that I would die before I got to chance to tell her how much she meant to me. They seem far away now, like another life I sometimes have a hard time believing ever existed.
Then I see the scars on my wife’s arm and thigh that her bathing suit doesn’t cover, white puckered flesh in the sunlight, and I remember all too well what we faced and survived to get here. What all of us have gone through to earn family, friends, and peace.
I once told Van that the only real power the Godlings had was to do more good or more bad in the world than the average person. She argued I was wrong, that she had to save the world. I still think I was right, but when you have enough people doing more good than bad…maybe that’s the same thing as saving the world.
THE END
Sneak Peek of:
Life & Being
The Arcane Wielders Series, Book 1
By DelSheree Gladden
Coming Winter 2016
Chapter 1
I watched her as she approached Dominic Vancaster and made one of those barely noticeable exchanges you only see in spy movies. Her hand slipped into her pocket with whatever he gave her, head down as she walked across the courtyard in my direction. As far as I knew, Dahlia Carter wasn’t a student at Southern New Mexico University. I hadn’t seen her since graduating high school together a little over two years earlier, though, so who knew.
Barely a hair taller than five foot, and as big around as a pixie stick, it always surprised me how nothing intimidated her back then. Nothing seemed to have changed since. Dominic Vancaster was six foot four, three hundred pounds, covered in tattoos, and had a temper that was great on the football field but scary as hell off it. Yet she was calmly doing some kind of deal with him in broad daylight on a college campus.
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