by J. T. Stoll
Vero grabbed the pump from the guy, who jumped into his car and sped away. She turned to the lady.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
The lady, middle aged and well dressed, gave a concerned look. “Girl, I don’t know what’s going on, but if you’re in some kind of crisis…”
Vero ripped the pump away and pointed her axe at the woman. “Drive away!”
The compassion turned to fear, and the woman jumped into her car and sped out of the parking lot. Vero dropped her axe, held two gas nozzles high, and pressed the handles.
Both gave empty clicks.
She glanced at the displays in the closest pump. They should still be working from those customers. She tried the triggers again and heard the same empty clicks.
All right, some kind of safety mechanism. But she could beat it. She dropped one nozzle and pressed against the rubber piece surrounding the spout of the other, just like if it was pressed into a gas tank. That did it; it shot a stream, and the stench of gasoline filled the air.
An attendant rushed out. “What are you doing?”
“Making a fire,” Vero replied. “Better run.”
He glanced for the big red emergency shutoff button.
She picked up her axe and charged toward him. “Touch it and die!”
He glanced at the shutoff for just an instant then ran. Vero returned to the pump and covered the area with gas.
Now, how to light it? Diotein rested at her feet. Duh. She picked it up and struck the octane puddle.
A boom nearly knocked her deaf, and the explosion propelled her backward, a blinding flash consuming her vision. Glass shattered around her, and when she came to a stop, she found herself inside the station building, wedged into a row of shelves. She pushed herself to her feet, the world spinning and lurching a bit as she did. Melted chocolate dripped from her body as she stumbled out into the inferno near the pumps.
Inside the blaze, the world stopped spinning. She spread out her arms and breathed deeply. In her ears, nothing but the roar of fire. In her eyes, nothing but its towering flames. In her sinews, nothing but its raw energy. She clutched Diotein.
Vero jumped from the blaze with the ferocity of a tiger and sailed over two blocks of houses, cold air flowing around her. She looked down and noticed that the fight had moved. Soul armor lights danced in the darkness of the park. She landed on a nearby sidewalk and jumped again.
Gloria fought desperately to keep Jed at bay. Pieter stood back with one bloody hand on his stomach, sword clutched in his other. Neil lay on the ground beneath Dek, his armor off, his weapon at his side. The wildian lifted his mace.
Vero’s blade fell directly into Dek’s head and continued into his chest. She lifted her weapon and flung the twitching body off into some bushes. Dully, somewhere, her mind registered that she’d just taken a life.
“Stay away from them,” she screamed at Jed and charged.
He dodged her first swing, close enough that her blade touched the fabric of his shirt. His sword trembled as he attempted a counter. She slapped the flat of the blade away with her bare hand and kicked him in the side. He spun and tumbled into some playground equipment.
Vero advanced on him, her feet leaving spots of blackened grass. “Give up. You want to live? Take off the soul armor.”
Jed smirked. “Who said I’d surrendered?”
He crouched then leaped skyward, Vero following on his heels. As the air whipped around her, she felt that bubbling from earlier in the day, that heat like lava pouring into her axe, telling her to just flick the blade toward him.
She obeyed.
A sizzling ball of fire launched at Jed. It hit and exploded with a pop, flaming streaks falling to the ground like the trails of a spent firework.
He lost control and tumbled head over heels onto the roof of a nearby house. Vero landed hard on his chest. The roof crumpled and the two fell into the living room, Jed landing hard on a piano.
“Off of me!” Jed bellowed, swinging his sword.
She swiped it aside. She struck back and planted her blade in his shoulder. He stabbed out again, weaker. Her counter removed his arm at the elbow.
The fire inside cried for vengeance. This man had murdered its last master. She brought down the axe, again and again. Flames licked up a nearby bookshelf.
Vero stood back, the wrath of Diotein expended.
“Did you feel that?” he rasped.
“The fire?” she asked.
He turned his head to the side, as though looking at something. In the dancing yellow and orange light, he seemed to be grinning. “No, the rift. It’s open. I feel it. A breeze from Ruach. Someone steps through. They’re coming, little girl. They’re coming for your world. You picked the wrong side.” He stopped breathing, that grin frozen on his bloody face.
For a moment, Vero’s fire faltered. And she saw, really saw, what she’d done. An arm lay across the room. A leg stayed on by a flap of skin. Blood flowed from the corpse. Smoke and flames filled the room. They emboldened her, strengthened her, and kept her from falling to the ground and crying.
One final task. She felt Jed’s thigh, the place where his soul armor had glowed. She fumbled with a hot metal band. It would be quicker to remove the entire leg. The thought sickened her. She finally found a latch then slid the band off the leg, taking both it and the sword.
Vero punched open the front door and walked onto the street, axe over her shoulder, flames licking up and down her body.
12. Sooty Embrace
Vero staggered over the threshold of her home.
“¿Dios mío, mija qué te pasó?” her mom yelled, jumping off the couch.
She didn’t want to deal with that woman’s hysterics right now. She wanted to shower, to clean herself—she felt so dirty—and try to sleep. The strength from her soul armor was gone. Now, with its act of violence finished, Diotein had abandoned her to the aftermath.
“Accidente,” Vero mumbled.
No, that was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to have been in the accident. After the fight, she and Gloria had jumped away from the scene, depositing Dek’s body—minus the soul armor—in the flames of the gas station, just before the fire department arrived. They stashed all the weapons in Pieter’s car and drove away so that hopefully no one would connect her with the girl in the Britney Spears mask at the Trex station. Pieter had called 911 and gone to the hospital to get treated for the cut from Jed. And now she’d screwed up the story.
“You’re covered in blood!” her mom said. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Vero glanced around the room. No sisters. Good. They must be working late. “Not… my blood,” she said. “I’m fine. Just rattled.”
“Not your blood? What happened?”
Vero set her backpack on the floor. Luckily, her mom didn’t ask about the weird bulge sticking out the top: the towel-covered handle of her axe. That had seemed like the least conspicuous way to transport it.
“It’s Pieter’s…” Jed’s blood. Jed, whom she’d killed. “It’s Pieter. He got cut up from some glass. He’s in the hospital. Nothing serious.”
“Oh, my baby girl,” her mom said. She embraced her daughter.
Vero squirmed free. Soot and blood smeared all over her mom. The soul armor protected her clothing from burning, but it didn’t keep it clean. The mask, too, was now a black mess. Now her mom was stained, too.
“I’m fine,” Vero said.
“I… why didn’t you call me?”
To keep her mom out of this, to avoid that smothering comfort. Vero looked up and did her best to become her usual, cheery self. “It was no big deal. I’m just shaken up. A friend gave me a ride. But I really need to shower, okay?”
“Vero…” Her mom tried to hug her again. Vero slipped away into her bedroom.
She shut the door and removed the axe from her backpack. The blade was a bit cleaner than the blackened handle—they’d used some bottled water and grass to remove the blood. But at the moment, it looked hide
ous. She hid it under a pile of debris in her closet and shoved her armband into her sock drawer.
Vero went into the bathroom and let her hair down. It would take some serious work to get… tonight… out of that hair, to return it to the hair of a pretty senior with a popular boyfriend. Kristin and Carrie would laugh about the accident to cheer her up. Her sisters would sympathize for a few days then start cracking jokes. Her mom would stay worried for the next ten years.
She stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over her. They’d won, right? Jed was dead. The bodies were disposed of. Let the police figure out who the charred skeletons belonged to. The fight itself had only lasted a few minutes, mostly in a dark, empty park. As far as they knew, no one had seen them except maybe while they were in the air. And if anyone had witnessed them jumping, what then? Would the neighborhood report flying bandits? Even if someone had photos, they were wearing masks.
The gas station… she tried not to think about that one. The police wouldn’t look for her, right? From the reports, they’d think it was a suicide, right? That she’d died in the blaze. The only problem was that the body they dropped in the flames, Dek’s, was male.
Vero washed the muck down the drain until the water ran clear. She stayed under the warm stream and ran fingers through her hair.
They’re coming, little girl. They’re coming for your world. You’ve picked the wrong side.
What now? She didn’t want to ask that question. Jed and Dek were gone. Everything was fixed. Everything would be fine…
The water went cold. Vero turned it off and started drying herself. On the floor lay a messy pile of blood and soot: her clothes. They were trash now. Vero wrapped a couple towels around herself and wished the hot water had lasted longer. She opened the door.
Her mom waited in the doorway. “Vero…”
“Mom, I’m…”
“Yeah?”
She leaned into her mom’s arms and stayed there. Tears came to her eyes. Mom might be an overbearing, loud pain. She might be someone Vero never wanted her friends to meet. But her mom loved her. With only a handful of memories of Dad, the woman holding her was the only parent she had.
“You want to talk about it?”
She clutched her mom and held tight. Yes, she did want to talk about it. But not at the cost of the scrutiny and gossip of her whole family. Not at the cost of her mom and sisters ending up involved in this thing.
“Just a little accident,” Vero said. “I just need some rest.”
Her mom gave a knowing nod. “Okay, okay. Get your sleep.”
And despite wishing she’d been born in a family like Neil’s, despite that she lived in the ghetto of SLO, she didn’t want to let go. She dug her fingers into her mom’s back.
Vero leaped.
Axe at her side, she chased a form fleeing through the air, ready to swing up and launch a fireball. Somehow, she knew that’s what was supposed to happen, as though it had already happened. That fleeing form would die. She would swing, and he would die.
Only this time, nothing happened. Jed turned in midair. Their weapons clashed. Diotein shattered in her hands. And Dek—who she remembered being dead—jumped from behind to attack her. They both smashed into her, and the three fell tumbling to the ground.
Where were the others? Where were Pieter and Neil and Gloria? Was Pieter injured? Was he whole?
Jed sat on top of her, smirking. With her strength, she should have been able to push him off; he felt like a boulder. He just sat there, grinning and grinning and grinning.
“More are coming, little girl. The rift is open. Can you taste the breeze from Ruach?”
Dek lifted his mace and smashed in her skull. The scene went dark.
And she heard snoring, Bella’s loud snoring. Was she dead, alive? Sleeping, awake? She turned over.
A dark park—it seemed somehow familiar—surrounded her. Jed fell from the starless night sky. Diotein was whole and in her hands again.
She threw her weapon to the ground and ran. She just needed to get away, needed escape, needed freedom. But no matter where she ran, Jed followed just behind, his sword ready. She stumbled over dark roots and bushes.
Something exploded behind her, illuminating the park like day. Bushes went from black to green; trees burst from barren darkness into pink and purple blossoms. Playground equipment flashed to playful crimson and sapphire. The burst knocked Vero onto her face.
She flipped over and prepared for Jed to pounce on her. A blazing white light floated between them, edges moving like the swells of the ocean. Jed dissolved as he touched it. That light washed away guilt, washed away fear.
A single word filled the air: “Continue.”
She stayed on her back, staring into the white form. The sound of Bella’s snoring returned, followed by the feel of a tightly wrapped sheet. The park faded, and Vero opened her eyes to see her room.
Only, the form remained. It floated just above her bed, unearthly and beautiful. The backdrop of her room, unlike the park, remained dark except for a slight red tinge from Bella’s alarm clock. As in the dream, it gave her a sense of wholeness and comfort, though fear crept in at seeing something so alien floating in her room.
Her reflexes activated her soul armor. She jolted fully awake, and the light vanished into a faint afterimage. It had to have been some trick of her brain, a leftover from the nightmare. Perhaps a trick of the eye, like floaters when you press on closed eyelids. She released her armor.
But it had felt so real. The memory gave her a funny sensation, an ache, a yearning to see it again. She could have stared at it for hours. The sight of it had banished the guilt and pain of just a few hours ago.
Vero’s heart hammered. Fully awake, she felt a clarity that she hadn’t experienced since the night with James. Fear had clouded her choices about Ruach. Now she didn’t feel that fear. And one thing was clear: All their talk about escaping after eliminating Jed and Dek was an excuse, an excuse to hide Ruach from the rest of the world, to try and preserve their lives as they were. That was impossible, especially now that she’d killed. No, she couldn’t rewind time.
What now? That question had seemed too terrifying to ask just a few hours ago. Continue? No, they weren’t warriors, weren’t heroes. But they couldn’t just hide either. They’d tried that, and they’d been found. It would happen again. Those soul armors drew trouble.
But as more Ruachians came through, her home would become a battle zone, and people would die. She had to prevent that. The best way? Give the soul armors to the government and let them handle it. They were way more equipped than four high school kids. Who knew what that would do to her life and her family, but she had no better options. In a way, it was courageous.
Vero sighed and rolled onto her side. So much for sleep.
13. Victory
Vero knocked on Pieter’s door. Gunshots echoed from inside.
“Come in,” Pieter called.
Vero opened the door and watched a body fly across the TV.
“Aww, you killed me,” Pieter said.
“Not funny.”
“Vicodin’s ruining my aim anyways.”
He sat back in a large blue recliner with an Xbox controller in his lap. As far as games went, Pieter wasn’t much of a player. After an awkward first boyfriend who was attached at the hip to his computer, Vero had forever sworn off gamers. But even Pieter sometimes ended up with a controller in his lap.
Vero sat on the couch and yawned. The world seemed a bit out of focus; a double-strong cup of instant coffee kept her awake. Guilt and fear and uncertainty all rumbled around inside. The peace and clarity of that light had faded in the morning. Turned out a mysterious form in her room couldn’t fix all her problems. Here, in Pieter’s house, the thought of the thing seemed silly. It had just been part of the dream.
Though the turmoil was bearable, unlike the night before. She could continue with life, feeling like this. Maybe that’s what continue had meant, if it had meant anythin
g.
“So, you… all right?” she asked.
Pieter fired a few times and missed. “Yeah, doctors patched me up good. Sixteen stitches thanks to dear, deep-fried Jed. I’d say that he got the worst of it.”
She didn’t need reminding of that. Vero slumped in the chair.
Pieter pointed at his torso. “After they patched me up, the doctor asked me how I got a stab wound in a car accident. But right then, a bunch of ambulances blew in with people from the fire, and in the chaos, he dropped it.”
“I thought you’d be with your mom,” Vero said. “She seems to take better care of you.”
“Yeah, well, she decided to let Steve stay with her. So I’m stuck here.”
“Oh, uh…” Vero paused for a moment, then asked, “When are the others coming?”
“Soon.”
Somebody bludgeoned Pieter to death with a rifle.
“So get off that recliner and over here before they do.”
He tossed the controller onto the floor. “Oh? You mean you didn’t just come to watch me play Call of Duty?”
“You’re confusing me with Neil.”
“Nah, you’re a lot prettier.” Pieter staggered to the couch and plopped down, breathing hard.
Vero leaned against his uninjured side. He wrapped an arm around her, and she closed her eyes and breathed. As soldiers shot one another in surround sound, he tilted her head and kissed her.
Warm happiness waged an intense war against her dark regret. Somehow, they both existed inside her simultaneously. Tears slipped from her eyes.
Pieter pulled back a little. “Why you crying, pretty girl?”
“I… I killed two people last night. My soul armor just burned so hot. But I was the one who killed them. And…” She stopped. He didn’t want to hear about the light in her room or her conviction to turn in the soul armors.
“You did what you had to.”
His words didn’t help the sinking guilt inside, but his lips did.
