by Sarah Noffke
“Don’t worry, Father,” she says, a confident smirk on the corner of her mouth. “I’ve got this.”
I hold up my hands in an act of surrender. Shake my head erratically. Give her every nonverbal cue that I’m her prisoner. Make her think I’m weak to her. “Are you saying that you’d shoot fire at me, potentially killing me if I don’t do what you say?”
She nods, looking too pleased. “That’s exactly right.”
“Dee…” my father says, a nervous edge to his voice. “Stop. Get away from Em.”
My head is battling between antagonizing Dee, pushing her because I finally can, and also preserving us both. It’s an issue of conscience and I’m sad to say, the evil part is winning. “I’m not sure I’d listen to Father,” I say, daring to take a step in her direction. “I think I need you to teach me a lesson and then cart me away. I’m dangerous. I’m a mistake,” I say, my eyes finding my father’s, which are narrowed with disgust.
Don’t do this, Em. She’s going to get hurt, my father thinks.
That’s sweet that you care. Didn’t think you had the capacity.
My sister, getting brazen, enjoying the power as she always has, steps forward. “Come with me, Em. Follow me to the labs, so you can be converted. So you won’t be a danger to yourself any longer.”
“Sure thing,” I say, stepping forward, separating us by three short feet. “But before that I need to know one thing.” I stop and fix my eyes on only my sister. I’ve known her all my life, and also she’s a complete stranger to me. As foreign as a stranger on the streets. And more fathomless is that I totally don’t understand the person I shared a room with for the past seventeen years. “Why is it, Dee,” I begin, “that you’ve betrayed Nona and me at every step when we should be bonded? Why have you punished your sisters with your gift when you knew we were suffering? I was a Defect with lesser advantages and you abused me because of that when you should have protected me. Why? Why betray your own family?”
“Because,” she says, her voice carrying strength with it, “Father taught me that power comes from taking advantage of those with less. From gaining the upper hand when others fall.”
I smirk at her. “That only works for a little while, and then you trip and find yourself at a disadvantage.”
“Funny, because I believe you’re the one alone in an alley, fighting against two powerful Reverians,” Dee says, her pointy chin rising in the air with a calm superiority.
My scruples are still battling each other. And now suddenly the potential of fighting my sister in a darkened alleyway is a stone in my chest. I could turn and run, but not fast enough to avoid her attack.
My eyes flick to my father’s. He looks like he wants me to die right now, no emotion, only a cold hostile burning.
I won’t go to the labs, I think, a firm tone to my thoughts. Tell Dee to step down and let me go because I don’t want to hurt her.
And there’s another flaw in you, Em. A contemptuous glare tightens his mouth. You don’t think. You purely feel. And even though you have great powers, you’re too soft to actually use them. You are a threat only to yourself.
“Let her have it, Dee,” my father says out loud. “Take your sister down.”
And as I hear his cold, calloused words I leech the power from Dee and throw it back at my father, faster than my sister can act. From the palm of my hand, not sharp like electricity, but full and flowing, comes fire, my sister’s gift of pyrokinesis. It shoots out with an angry rush and claps onto my father’s shoulders. Singeing, burning, and erupting him into a mass of flames. First his shoulders and then his blond hair light up. A smell like burnt plastic hits my nostrils.
Dee’s startled expression rattles between my wide eyes and our father’s fiery form. In one movement she pushes him to the ground and tries to beat the flames from him. I step back and watch, unable to turn away. With another step back, I take in the scene of fire wrapping around my father’s head. His screams are a rough assault to my ears. And then I run, back into the shadows and away from the catastrophe that I’m responsible for.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As a child, when I was afraid or my nerves mounted so high I thought they’d make me explode, I’d hide in my closet. The small space cloaked me, making me feel safe. The darkness comforted me like a cape, shielding me from judging eyes. I don’t have a closet of my own anymore. And although I’m worried of risking getting Zack in trouble, I zigzag my way through the Valley until I arrive breathless at his back door. I don’t have anywhere else to go. The camp isn’t safe with Vider ready to hunt for us, and I’ll need to be here to rendezvous with Rogue anyway.
All I want is to throw myself into Rogue’s arms right now. However, it’s several hours from when we planned to meet. Nevertheless his arms are all that I think about as I race through the house, up the stairs, and straight into Zack’s bedroom. Like somewhere on the other side of the mirrored door resides my salvation, I fling open the closet and dart inside. I wrench the door shut, and the automatic light extinguishes at once, leaving me in darkness surrounded by dozens of perfectly pressed suits. The only light seeps through the crack along the door. My back finds the wall and I slide down between a rack of leather belts and a row of shiny loafers. I tuck my knees up to my chest and clap my hands to my cheeks, ready to catch my tears, but nothing comes. As I suspected the darkness is an instant comfort, numbing the horror of what I’ve done.
I’ve burned my father.
I gulp down a mouthful of bile.
How could I have done this? I’m not a murderer. That’s what they want me to believe. Maybe they’re making me into a monster. Maybe I really am one. I shot fire at my father, knowing what it would do. Knowing that burns can’t be erased. That fire kills. And I watched him burn and then I ran away. Like a coward. Again I gulp. I am a monster. I’m the goddess of death. A beast. I am what they named me. Morta. Death.
I’ve been staring into the black corner of the closet for at least half an hour when the front door slams shut. I bolt into a standing position. What have I done? I’ve backed myself into a corner where there’s nowhere to run. They’re coming for me. It will only take a quick search of the house and they’ll find me. Vider has probably sent an army of Middlings to capture me. And then he’ll have my memories erased using the modifier and convert me to a Middling by lobotomizing my dream traveling abilities.
Footsteps race up the stairs. They’re loud. Demanding my attention. Stripping me of my ability to focus. I need to get out of here, to find a window. To escape. But I remain frozen, my back firmly pressed into the wall behind me. The door handle to the closet clinks when a hand wraps around it. How did they know so quickly where to find me? Maybe someone saw me enter Zack’s house. Maybe I was followed. I sputter out a breath, ready to push through the people, ready to defend myself.
The door swings open, triggering the automatic light, like that of a refrigerator. Even though Zack’s face is crazed with worry I’ve never in my entire life been so relieved to see his blue eyes staring back at me. “Oh, Em,” Zack says, and then he rushes forward, wrapping his arms around me, yanking me to him, his movements coated in a frantic concern.
And now the tears I’d been waiting for burst to the surface, a torrent of uncontrollable sobs. They suck my breath away. The tears cause an intense ache in my chest as they pour out of my being. Unconcerned for his suit, like I normally am, I bury my face into Zack’s shoulder, drenching it within seconds with tear after tear after tear. He holds me in tight, his arms seeming to vibrate from his battered nerves. And through the tears and hyperventilated breaths, I stutter, “H-h-how did you know?”
“The news went straight to your father’s office. I rushed here as soon as I heard,” he says, his voice right beside my ear, arms pressing me firmly to him.
I push back, wiping my face with my sleeves. “How did you know to come here though? You ran straight to the closet.”
He regards me for a moment with a solemn stare. “I know
you, Em. I know how you think.”
“How’d you know I’d hide in your closet?”
“I knew you’d go where you’re safe,” Zack says, allowing an ounce of pride to rise in his voice.
He’s the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. His brain vaults everything away and assimilates all his stored knowledge when necessary, employing flawless rationality as well. Desperately I want him to hold me again, but I know I shouldn’t ask. He already appears overburdened by this situation. Instead of leaning on him, I need to pretend I’m stronger in this moment. I wipe my hand across the place where my tears soaked his suit jacket. “I’m sorry, I messed up your suit.”
“Don’t be.” Zack eyes me quietly, an unspoken question in them.
No doubt he wants to know why I burned my father. Zack probably fears that he used to know me, but now he doesn’t. That I’ve turn into a monster. “I was stupid and not paying attention. I got myself caught. Before I realized what had happened they had me cornered in an alleyway,” I say in a frantic rush, my eyes darting between Zack and the floor. “Too many things were said. And then all of a sudden I’d lost control of the situation. I thought my father would only try and have me converted, but…” I stop, the image of my father engulfed in flames ripping through my mind, causing an instant ache in my core.
“What did he do?” Zack asks, his chin low, eyes hooded.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory. “He told Dee to attack me. His exact words were, ‘Take your sister down.’” I choke on the last of that sentence. A new batch of tears renders me speechless.
Zack’s eyes narrow with disdain. He presses his hand to his forehead, like his head is about to explode from sudden pressure. “She was going to do it, wasn’t she?” Disgust drips from his words.
I nod, unable to speak past the tears. My shaking hands shelter my face, throwing it back into safe darkness. And then to my surprise his arms enfold me again. “I’m so sorry, Em. I’m so sorry,” Zack says, his voice half a whisper. “I’m just so relieved you’re okay. And hopefully that demon will be punished.”
“What?” I say, stepping back, looking up at Zack. “Who?”
“Dee,” he says, shaking his head. He’s never called her that. He’s not one to name call. “She’s been taken into custody because of the incident.”
“Why?!”
“Well, because they think she did it,” he says, his voice returning to its normal even tone. “Dee is a pyrokinetic and she brought your father to the hospital badly burned. It didn’t look good for her. The officials assumed she’s responsible.”
“Oh…” I say, a strange new guilt piling on top of the one already suffocating me. I can’t stand Dee, but I don’t want her punished for something so despicable. For something I did. “She’ll explain what happened. Vider will know she’s telling the truth and exonerate her,” I say, each of my words stumbling over the last.
Zack’s eyes turn speculative, but he quickly covers it with a flat expression. “As of right now, Dee isn’t talking and your father is in intensive care and unconscious.”
“What do they say? Is he going to be all right?” I ask, fear and guilt scratching my skin, making invisible marks.
Zack jerks his head to the side, a bemused expression on his face. He shakes his head. “He tried to kill you and you’re worried about him? And you’re worried about Dee too, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t want to do it. I’m not a monster,” I say.
Zack nods. “I know that, Em. I knew as soon as I heard that you weren’t to blame.”
“Really?” I ask, my heart thumping like a hammer against my ribs. “Didn’t you think for a second I’d gone crazy?”
A grim smile runs across his face. “No,” he says flatly. “Not for a second.”
An ounce of the heavy weight on my chest flits away. To have Zack’s faith, when my own has wavered, is a true gift. “And you came to me,” I say in grateful astonishment. “You came here, rather than run to my father’s side, which you should have done.”
He chews on the corner of his lip.
“You’re going to be in trouble,” I say, a new worry invading my mind.
He shakes his head. “No I won’t.”
“I’m sorry I came here. I don’t want—”
He waves his hand. “It’s fine. No one knows you were involved. No one is looking for you. And when Nona comes here later it will look more natural, it will look like she’s relaying updates about your father.”
“But, my father… You should be at the hospital.”
“He’s in surgery and can’t be seen. Don’t worry. Where I need to be is with you, that’s why I’m here.”
I give a slow nod. “Thanks,” I say to the carpet.
I burned my father. From my hand I shot fire at his shoulders. Again and again I replay it, trying to figure out how I could have done things differently. I’d antagonized Dee. Pushed her. But I’d also changed my mind and asked my father to make her step down. And he called me weak. Gave the command.
Something tugs on my arm. I shake my foggy eyes and peer down to see Zack’s fingers pinching my sleeve. Again he tugs at it. It’s a gesture we’ve been doing back and forth to each other for over a decade. It’s how we ask for the other person’s attention when they’re lost. “Come sit down with me,” he says, motioning to the bedroom.
I shake my head roughly. “No,” I say, my voice sounding fragile, like that of a scared child.
“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. Then he takes a seat on the ground, pulling me down to join him. We sit side-by-side. Shoulder to shoulder. In front of us are two rows of his shoes, one in front of the other on risers. I run my eyes over the fine stitching around the soles and the polished leather. Why couldn’t I have been born the Middling who makes these shoes, rather than a monster?
We’re sitting for less than a minute when the weight of my head feels too heavy and I allow it to drift over and lie on his shoulder. “Thanks, Zack,” I say, running my eyes over the intricate details of each of his shoes. “I thought you were someone Vider had sent to take me away.”
“I know. I saw that look of fear on your face when I opened the door,” he says.
“I’m sure I looked deathly afraid.”
“I’m glad this is where you came. You’re safe here.”
“But I’m not,” I say. “Won’t this be the first place that Dee or Vider looks?”
“No,” Zack says, and I feel him shake his head at the same time. “Em, I’ve been strategic in creating the illusion of my loyalty, and in doing so I’ve made myself look distanced from the friendship you and I had. They think I can’t stand you, that I’m repulsed by your rebellion.”
I flip my head up and catch a look of shame on Zack’s face. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” I say, and fail to bring a joking smile to my face.
“I figured the best way to protect you was to pretend that I hated you,” he says.
“And you’re such a good actor, so I’m sure everyone buys it. I think from hearing Dee’s thoughts this morning that she’s convinced.”
He shivers, one that reeks of revulsion. His nostrils flare once as he presses his eyelids firmly together.
“Zack, what is it?”
“I don’t know how I’ll stomach her after this,” he says, biting on each of the words. “It was hard enough before.”
“Then don’t. Your personal happiness isn’t worth the gains,” I say.
He shakes his head and hangs it low with defeat. “More so than ever I think I’ll need to stay close to her after this. I sense she’s dangerous and not only to you. She’ll be on a war path. And I need the advantages I’ll earn from your father and President Vider by aligning myself with her.”
“Zack, you don’t ha—”
“I do though,” he says, pulling his eyes up to meet mine. “It’s my choice and it’s a smart move. It gives me the opportunity to have an advantage and also to protect you.”
“Don’t do it for that reason. You shouldn’t have to make that sacrifice to protect me.”
“Em, you’re leading this rebellion. You need to be protected,” Zack says, all emotion stripped from his voice.
“We’re leading this rebellion,” I correct.
He nods in agreement, but there’s no conviction to it.
“How you fake it in front of Dee is a marvel,” I say, my voice carrying more of a lightness to it. Zack’s managed to make me feel not so brittle merely by being here, staring at his closet of clothes with me. “I have no idea how you do it. She infuriated me today.”
“She’s intolerable for sure, but I’ve learned how to master my emotions,” he says.
“An important characteristic for a politician,” I say, patting his arm.
And then the door downstairs slams for the second time today. However, it’s not followed by racing steps, but rather the sound of his frantic voice. “Em?! Em, are you here?!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I whip into a standing position and race out of Zack’s room, down the stairs, two at a time. I’m swinging around the banister when Rogue rushes to me, catching me in his arms. And as I suspected, his arms erase the pain pooling in my heart. In his strong embrace I find the recipe to hope and relief. All that was plaguing my heart is forgotten as I bury my chin into his shoulder and breathe him in. The smell of oak and campfire and Rogue.
He sets me down properly on my toes and grips the side of my face, looking me over with an earnest concern. “Are you all right?” Rogue’s green eyes stare into mine and I find the answer isn’t in a word, but rather at the tip of my lips. I press my mouth to his, needing to feel him close. He kisses me back, pushing against my lips with a gentle pressure. Finally, I peel away and look up at him.
“How did you know something happened?” I ask, careful not to allow much distance between us.
He slides his hands through his hair, but it rebelliously falls back onto his forehead. “I saw it in a vision,” he says, looking away at once.
