Wicked Glory

by Gladden, DelSheree

  “David has plans to alter my training. Annabelle knows what he intends to do, and it isn’t good.”

  “Zander, I don’t know much about Godling training.”

  “I know, but something Annabelle said, it reminded me of something.”

  I can hear her draw in a slow breath. “Of what?”

  “The night you came to visit me.”

  The sound she makes at remembering that night strikes a chord with me. There is pleasure in the sound, and I think it’s not just from being near me. The weightless feeling she reveled in is no doubt replaying in her mind… just as it is in mine.

  “What did Annabelle say that made you think of that?” she asks softly.

  “She said her cousin went through David’s secret training as well. He was made to hurt others and feed off their pain, storing it up as power, and using it. It’s not a new concept.” I’ve already explained to Isolde how we use our hunger to improve our natural abilities, and I know Ivy is familiar with the concept. “It wasn’t just what she said, but how scared she was when she said it. I’ve fought James, and I know how brutal he can be. Annabelle was terrified when she talked about the things she saw him do, how unstoppable he seemed. It’s what David wants me to do. I’ve done it once before, but more than James has ever been capable of.”

  “You’ve done what?” Ivy interrupts. Instead of the eagerness I would hear in Isolde’s voice at such a revelation, there is only fear in Ivy’s, concern and anxiety.

  For a moment, I hesitate telling her. If she tells Isolde… I shake off that thought. What would Isolde do with the information? Try to make me duplicate it herself so she could study it? I doubt she’d have better luck that David. Besides, for some strange reason, I don’t think Ivy will tell Isolde. Sighing, I give in. “I’m not even totally sure what I did, but I used my hunger, my power, to create some kind of energy explosion. It wasn’t enough to kill James when we fought, but it came close.”

  “And David intends to make you do it again by storing up enough pain and energy until you burst?” Ivy seems puzzled by the concept. “What does that have to do with the night I came over?”

  That is the question I need answered. “I don’t know, but something has been gnawing at me. I can’t really explain it, but I think they’re connected somehow.” I shake my head in frustration, dropping the phone to my side for a moment as I try to wrangle my rambling thoughts into submission. “I do something to you when we’re together.”

  “In more than one way,” she mumbles.

  Her words make me stumble, but I shove them away forcefully. Knowing I’m not in love with her doesn’t erase the memories. “I need you to explain what it feels like.”

  “It feels like…” She sighs in frustration. “It’s so hard to explain, because it just feels like being with you. You’re the only person who has ever taken away the pain. It feels like being at peace… I think. I’m not even sure I know what that feels like. It’s better than just controlling it. It’s like… acceptance.” The breath of relief she releases is oddly comforting.

  “What do you mean—acceptance?”

  “It feels right to be near you, Zander, like that’s what I was meant to be doing this whole time… like you were meant for me, or me for you. It feels like I’m not just a…”

  “Mistake,” I finish.

  She lets out a long, trembling breath. “Exactly.”

  Being near Ivy is torture. It always has been, but I stupidly tried to ignore that when we first met. I tried to force my hunger into submission so I could have what I wanted. It was brute force, and it was a mistake. The only time being near Ivy didn’t feel like a thousand knives piercing me at the same time was that night.

  “I felt it too,” I say.

  Ivy doesn’t respond right away. She seems hesitant, afraid. “You felt what?”

  “The acceptance.”

  “But…” She pauses, no doubt more confused than ever. “I thought it still made your hunger go crazy to be around me.”

  “It does, but that night, right before Annabelle came out, I felt it. I saw what me feeding off your pain did to you, how it made you feel. It was like I could almost understand the purpose behind who we are, but it was just outside what I could grasp. It was enough, though, to know I was helping you. My hunger was still in a frenzy, but I could control it. I could keep it from consuming you.”

  For a moment, all I can hear is Ivy’s breathing, its shaky timber pulsing in and out. “You’re right, aren’t you?” she whispers. “About everything.”

  The hope and relief in her voice makes me fall against the door. I needed to hear someone else say it. Pressing my free hand to my face, I realize I’m shaking. How long have I wanted answers? How long have I secretly wished to be something more than a damaged monster? I hid it for so long, but it’s been all I can think about lately. The need to know the truth has been threatening to consume me, but now… maybe, I’m getting close.

  “Ivy, I think I’m going to need your help before this is over.”

  “I’ll be there,” she says quietly, “no matter what.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Face Value

  (Vanessa)

  I approach the door cautiously. It’s closed, but I push it open slowly. “Grandma?” I listen for a few seconds, straining to hear her breathing. It’s a relief and a disappointment at the same time. A relief, because I need a few minutes without adult supervision. A disappointment, because she has rarely left her room in the last week. Not only does that inspire a well of regret and grief and sadness when I think about losing my grandma, it scares me. It really, really scares me.

  Pulling the door closed quietly, I tiptoe down the stairs to the living room where Noah and Ketchup are waiting. I was ordered to stay at home when David was unexpectedly called away for a meeting at the compound five minutes into our training session this afternoon. It wasn’t dancing, so my feelings weren’t hurt in the least. Zander looked like someone had just pulled a loaded gun away from his head when David took off, unsure of when he would return.

  He told me about the promise of new, scary training with David, but I know he didn’t tell me everything. There’s something he’s trying to work through, and I can only hope he figures it out in time. Right now, I have to focus on other things. Slipping onto the couch next to Ketchup, we both turn to stare at Noah.

  “So, assassin training,” he says slowly.

  My body tenses up at that word, but Ketchup’s arm tightens around me reassuringly. I try very hard to relax. We have a plan. I can’t refuse David. He won’t let me. I can’t even say I’d rather let him kill me than become his protégé, because he won’t let that happen. There is no escape. All I can do is learn from him, take in everything he teaches me, and then turn it on him the first chance I get. We have a plan. Kind of.

  “I won’t go into how I know any of this,” Noah says, “because I’m sure you can imagine, but Godling Assassins begin their training exactly like Van has, though usually at a much younger age. At face value, it’s good training, because it keeps them under control, but it gets worse.”

  “Worse how?” I ask. Please don’t saying murdering innocent people. There has to be a step in between… or three or four.

  “From what we’ve learned, you’ll be put through training missions where you’ll be given a target, expected to track them through a series of obstacles, and then take them out.” Noah watches my every reaction carefully as he speaks. “You won’t really kill them at first, because you’ll be tracking other Godlings, but failure is punished harshly.”

  “That’s nothing new,” I grumble.

  Ketchup grimaces, having witnessed my punishments more than once. “Do you have any idea how long this training is expected to last?” Everyone can hear the real question. How long before David tries to tear us apart?

  Noah only shakes his head. “It depends on the person being trained.” He glances back at me sadly, and more than a little worried. “Knowing Van, it won’t ta
ke long. David will be eager to put her skills to use.”

  “What if I can’t do it?” I ask nobody in particular.

  “What if you can’t kill someone?” Noah asks. He seems somewhat confused by the question. “You’re more than capable…”

  “What if I can’t make myself kill someone?” I snap. “What if I do everything else, track and hunt and get close enough, but I can’t do it?”

  Noah levels his gaze at me seriously. “Not following through means losing everything, Van.” He shakes his head. “No, David won’t kill you, because you’re worth too much, but he won’t hesitate to find ways to make you do as he says. Everyone you care about will become a target. Ketchup already has a bull’s eye on his back but, if you fail, so will Laney, the twins, Wyatt, Holly, everyone you’ve ever known. He won’t stop until you do exactly as he says.”

  Silence settles over us. Its heavy oppressiveness pushes me closer to Ketchup. The night Annabelle ran away, Oscar asked me if I was willing to do whatever it took to protect my family from her if she had betrayed us. I knew the answer that night, and nothing has changed. My family, my friends, Ketchup… I would die to protect any of them. Sacrifice isn’t an option anymore, but my answer is still the same as it was that night. I will kill whatever Eroi David points me at if that’s what it takes to protect the people I love.

  I don’t think it’s right, what David’s doing, but the Eroi are far from blameless. There is no good and bad in this war. There is only cruelty and obsession and hatred. You don’t choose a side based on who’s right and who’s wrong. You don’t choose a side at all. You’re found, forced into a role, and given no choice but to comply. Surviving is the best you can hope for. Winning is only a fantasy… unless you have a different goal.

  In all honesty, I couldn’t care less if the Eroi and Godlings spend the next century trying to destroy each other. Most of the casualties will deserve their fate. People like David and Isolde aren’t out to help anyone but themselves. They spout rhetoric, but they’re too focused on their own ambitions and obsessions to bother believing any of it. If their war could be contained to only those psychotic freaks running around tearing people’s lives apart, I’d do nothing to stop them.

  Every war has its collateral damage. My parents. Oscar. Emily and Joshua. Even Ivy’s parents. There has already been so much damage done to people who never even wanted to be a part of this. Letting it continue means being responsible for deaths, broken lives and families, and ruin. My whole life, I have feared becoming the monster everyone thought I was. It has haunted me every single day. It still makes me sick to think of purposely hurting someone else, but it’s time to embrace the monster and put an end to all of this.

  “There are stories,” Noah says, breaking the silence. “I don’t think many Eroi believe in them anymore, but maybe… they could be true.”

  “Stories about what?” Ketchup asks.

  Noah frowns. His focus stays vague, aimed at a random section of wall. “Back when the Eroi thought Godlings were demons, they believed they had all kinds of strange powers. The mark of the devil, they thought. Some were ridiculous, but others… there are some that don’t seem so farfetched anymore, like being able to create weapons from their hunger.”

  Ketchup and I turn to stare at each other. Fear creeps down my spine like sweat on a hot day. Still as a statue, Ketchup’s grip tightens around me. It’s not hard to catch our reaction. Knowing he’s hit a nerve, Noah leans forward in his seat. “Godlings, they can do things, can’t they, with their hunger, right? It’s not all fantasy and child’s tales.”

  “It’s not like we have magic powers,” I hedge. “This isn’t a Tolkien novel.”

  Narrowing his eyes at me, Noah says, “But there are things you can do that regular people can’t. I’ve always thought it had to be true.”

  “Why?” Ketchup asks. “Having superhuman strength and healing abilities isn’t enough?”

  Noah shakes his head. “Why stop there?” He turns to look at me, and I can tell he is very serious. “If the Eroi are right and you were created to destroy the world, why only give you strength and healing? Why not make you invincible? Give them the ability to see their enemies coming, know their thoughts, give them every advantage possible. And even if you’re not some kind of demon or whatever, whoever created you put you here for a reason. If you were meant to succeed, pull out all the stops. Make it as impossible as you can to not succeed.”

  Everything he says tumbles into the empty space between us. It’s dangerous to trust him. I can feel the tension in Ketchup’s body as the thought bounces between us. He still hasn’t been able to convince his leaders to honor our deal with Isolde. Giving him any information that could be passed on isn’t smart. I know this, but I still sigh in defeat. Trust is fragile, and has pretty much been smashed into a million tiny pieces at this point. We need answers, though, and Noah just might have a few.

  “Not everyone,” I finally say, “but some do.”

  Noah attempts to hold back a triumphant grin, but fails. “I knew it,” he says. “I knew the stories were true.”

  “So what?” Ketchup demands. “What does it matter to you or the other Eroi? There’s no way for you to know who has a gift and who doesn’t, or even what it is. Knowing does nothing to help you fight them.”

  “It’s not about that,” Noah argues. “It’s about understanding.”

  “Understanding what?”

  Noah shrugs. “Knowing what the hell this is all about!”

  “I thought you already claimed to have that figured out,” Ketchup growls.

  Glaring back at him, Noah says, “Nobody has this figured out, least of all, the people calling the shots.”

  They continue glaring at each other uselessly while my thoughts go back to what Noah first said. “Tell me the stories about the weapons.”

  Noah has to drag his glaring gaze from Ketchup, but he manages to look at me after a moment. “There are only bits and pieces, rumors, but as much as the Eroi hate Godlings, there’s always been this fear of hurting them… at least, of hurting them and not finishing the job. It’s all or nothing. If they capture one, any questioning has to be quick. They’ve always been too afraid of the repercussions.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Noah shrugs, but I can tell there’s more to the motion. “Nobody ever really had an answer. Not one they wanted to give, anyway. I was always told you guys were just too dangerous. We couldn’t risk holding you too long. It never made sense, though, because we’re well equipped to contain a Godling.”

  I don’t ask what he means by that, and I hope I never find out.

  “Anyway, I always questioned it. Why were they so afraid? I’d heard these stories growing up, whispered like ghost stories, and they stuck with me. I started to think they didn’t kill Godlings quickly because we thought they’d escape, but because torturing them did something to them.”

  “Just tell us the story already,” Ketchup snaps.

  After throwing Ketchup a withering glare, Noah finally gets down to business. “There’s a story that in the early days of the Eroi, they captured a Godling and starting torturing him to find out where the others like him were. They knew he had to be in contact with at least one other of his kind, so they tried to break him. It went on for days, until something happened.” Noah shakes his head. “The story said the Godling somehow used the pain his hunger had fed on while they were torturing him and turned it into a weapon. Not like a sword or anything like that, but energy. The blast shook the building, but when the other Eroi ran down there, everything was decimated. The Godling was gone, and the Eroi who had been torturing him were dust.”

  “Dust?” I ask. “Like, literally dust?”

  Noah nods slowly. He grimaces at the mental image, but I can see the hesitation to feel bad for the Eroi who died. Noah may be a part of them, but he clearly doesn’t follow as blindly as they might like. He’s quiet for a long time before looking back up at me and asking, “That’s
not your gift, is it?” He looks almost sick at the thought of me going around blasting people into bits of dust.

  “No,” I say quietly. It’s hard not to think of how useful that would be, though.

  Noah sighs, and it’s a weary sound. “It’s not your gift, but you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Ketchup says fiercely. I’m not only surprised at his honesty, but at the heat behind his words. “We know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s real, and if you tell your leaders about it, you’ll become intimately acquainted with a true Godling weapon.”

  I know Ketchup is bluffing. Zander can’t create the blast again. Noah takes Ketchup’s threat at face value, going completely white.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Shatters

  (Vanessa)

  The sound of my door opening snaps me up out of a deep sleep. Panicked, staring into the dark, my eyes search for an intruder. It does nothing to help my heart rate drop when I find David standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadows. His grim expression is pointed in my direction, but he doesn’t really seem to see me.

  “Get up and get dressed,” he commands.

  That’s all he says. The door snaps shut, and I hear his dress shoes clicking down the hallway. Unclenching my hands, the blanket I was holding clutched against my chest, like it would actually do something to protect me, falls away. What did he just say? I look over at the clock and realize he just woke me up at five in the morning on a Saturday. Groaning, I toss my blankets off and trudge to my closet.

  I didn’t even know he had gotten back. Does Grandma know? Does she know he’s taking me somewhere? My hand freezes on a random shirt hanging in my closet as a scary thought hits me. Where is David taking me? How long will we be gone? My hand falls away from the shirt. Is Grandma okay? Is she still alive? Is David taking me away for good?