In Vendetta House (The Vendetta Series #1)

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

For a moment, I am convinced I didn't faint into a vision but instead somehow teleported myself down the stairs. Then my eyes start to focus to the little details and I realize how terribly wrong I was. For starters, the room looks at least ten to fifteen years younger. The wallpaper that curls slightly near the corners are instead pristine and smooth. Dusty rugs with worn edges and blackened tuffs are now new and fresh, its color nice and vibrant. The House never looked that old to begin with, I guess it's kept in pristine condition. The common room is still notably the same, unless you count the fact I am leaning against the wall that's supposed to be smashed to smithereens.

At least this time the vision moves smoothly and doesn't include terrifying demons.

A voice speaks up around the corner and footsteps shuffle in. I almost try move away but then I realize they can't see me. I'm not really here.

"You'll be all be safe, I promise you," a woman who sounds like a more perky, cheerleader-esque Aunt Nelly chirps, "It's better than living on the run, don't you think?"

The younger version of Aunt Nelly walks in, along with about twenty or thirty kids, who looked about thirteen or fourteen. But Cambion powers come in at sixteen, and these kids had colored streaks in their different shades of hair already. On closer inspection, it is purely the fact these kids are huddled with frightened expressions that makes them look young. Many have baggy, tired eyes, as if they hadn't slept in days. They all bear scars somewhere. Some are lucky with only a few on their arms; others have deep mutilations on their faces and necks.

This must be the first set of Cambions in this House. The ones who came voluntarily.

They settle down, and begin to chat amongst themselves quietly. A girl who was whispering to a boy with the same soft features as her - her brother presumably - approaches Aunt Nelly. I do a double take as I see her hair. Red streaks on dark auburn. A telepathic.

That means there have been more than just two telepaths here in the House to 'study'; though none of them have anklets yet. I guess they didn't need them if they were here at their own will.

"Thank you for this," she says, "You're truly a good person."

Something flickers in Aunt Nelly's expression. Her mask of calm slips for a moment, revealing a bit of guilt and even terror. It's gone as fast as it came, and she smiles gently, "You're most welcome. You can learn to change here, take my word for it."

Younger Aunt Nelly excuses herself, "I'm sure you're all hungry. I'll ask the cooks to hurry dinner. Remember that this is your home now for the time being, so feel free to make yourself comfortable."

As she walks off, the kids break out into happy chatter. I don't know if it's my paranoia speaking, but her little proclamation sounded possessive to me. Her tone when she told them that this is their home didn't sound genuine, but instead purposeful. Practiced.

The vision fine-focuses its noise on the conversation between the girl who thanked Aunt Nelly and her brother. The brother doesn't look happy. He runs a dirt-smeared hand through his hair, letting out a long exhalation of fatigue. Blended slightly into his original dirty blond color, are bright yellow streaks. If they're related, I wonder why they have different powers.

"We shouldn't be here, Cecily," the boy snaps suddenly. It seems like he didn't exactly come willingly.

"It doesn't matter if we should and shouldn't," the girl counters. "We are demon-bloods. The angel-bloods will never stop hunting us if we don't do this."

"Who says we have to be the victims?" he hisses, "Why must the angel-bloods be the ones feared? All they are is brute strength. We would be more powerful if we stopped living in fear and use our gifts."

"They're not gifts, James!" Cecily says, her voice taking a tone as if this had been discussed many times already. "I told you. They won't hunt us as humans if we lose our demonic powers. We can live as adults in peace. You'll understand better when you grow up."

"I fast-forwarded growing up pretty quick when mom and dad were killed."

The boy, James, pales and faces his sister quickly. "That's not what I meant."

Cecily turns towards the window. "It doesn't matter what you meant. I exposed us, I know. I kept you on the run as a human for two years with me, I know. They wouldn't have caught you before your powers came in, but you still stayed. I don't mind if you blame me, but this is something we need to go through."

James shakes his head determined. "I don't blame YOU. I want revenge from the Nephilum. I don't want to hide and become human again. I was powerless for so long, and before I could do much when it finally came in, you've dragged us in here."

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Cecily looks close to losing it. "I don't want us to be a long-lost descendants of a demon, James," she whispers, seething. "I want us to live, and we can't if there are people trying to hunt us down."

Her brother drops his eyes. "That's your choice, not mine." He digs into his pocket and brings out a photograph. "But maybe this will change your mind."

I move my incorporeal feet over and squat next to them to look at the photo. They couldn't see me so I didn't have to be polite and ask them to show me. In the photo is a family of four. The mother, who has yellow streaks, had taken the photo by holding the camera with the lens facing towards her, while she leaned to the side so the background could be seen. The dad, a blond with red streaks, was in the back, pretending to look stern while the two kids, who looked about six and seven, were leaping into the air. Younger Cecily looks familiar, though with the angle of the shot, I can't place it. At least now I know why the siblings have two different powers.

"How long have you had this?" Cecily asks.

James looks at it, biting his lip. Finally, he replies, "Mom gave it to me."

"Why?"

I also stare at the boy curiously, wondering why this is all being shown to me.

"It's a message. They sacrificed their lives just so we could get away. They wanted us to fight back."

Cecily grits her teeth. "And you know this from a happy photo of us before we were ruined and exposed?"

"Watch," he says. James runs a palm down the length of the photograph. His yellow-streaks shine just for a moment, and the photograph too.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the girl shrieks, glancing around. I glance around too. No one had noticed.

"We aren't supposed to be using any sort of ability here. We are containing them. You're defeating the whole purpose of this!"

"Just look, Cecily."

I crane my neck to see as Cecily snatches the photo up and widens her eyes to saucers. The photo glimmers gold, then the younger James and Cecily in the photo has shifted into an older version, standing back to back. Their faces are almost sixteen or so, but did not completely match up to the ones they had now. It is the expressions they are wearing. In the photo, they have been depicted as fierce. In front of me, they seem sad and lost. In the photo, they have bright streaks: burning fiercely even in print. Before me, their streaks are dull and lifeless.

On the bottom of the photo, a message has been scrawled with permanent marker: 'This is who you are supposed to be, without us or not. We are proud of you.'

James runs his hand down the photo again, and the image reverts back. "Mom taught me the power of Reveal on things like photos and drawings," he says, talking to fill Cecily's silence. "She said everything leaves an imprint, and if someone with demonic power was feeling sentimental with a personal capture of a moment, their thoughts are projected into energy to convey a message."

He caresses the side of the photo with his thumb. "I didn't think she would be silly enough to leave an open message, especially when she told us to run and leave them. And she'd given this to me years ago after staring at it meaningfully, as if she knew this would happen. She wanted us to learn our powers and fight back, Ce. This is who we're are supposed to be."

Cecily snaps at this and storms off angrily. On instinct, I get up and catch her wrist. I do not make any contact with skin and my hand passes through. But at that moment, a rush of emotion overwhelms me. Frustration, failure, trapped. Voices fill my ears, every conversation Cecily has had, overlaying one another until the noise is a continuous, thunderous roar. A rush of feral wind blows directly at my face, rendering me unable to breathe or see, and tugging my hair back in the gale so relentless it feels like my neck will be torn off.

Flashes of Cecily's current thoughts pass slowly through me like nausea. The wind calms and the voices stop. Then I am dropped in another setting; one where my corporeal form is not there and I am watching Cecily strapped to a metal table with gaunt eyes.

Oh no. This is the same room the girl with the the blonde ringlets died in.

I desperately try to call out to Cecily. But I know it is useless; this had happened years ago. If she dies today, it has been set in stone. Where is James? Why isn't he saving his sister?

As if hearing my thoughts, James steps into the frame of the vision. He meets his sister's eyes with a quivering lip.

"Cecily," he whispers, "Please. The full process works wonders, you'll be more powerful than ever."

She glares up at her brother, fists clenched. "If you care for me at all, you will let me go," she spits.

James does not respond.

"I won't be myself anymore," Cecily pleads, changing her tone. "Mom didn't want revenge. Mom wanted us to live."

Her brother clenches his fists. "I told you two years ago: this is who we are supposed to be. We will destroy the species that killed our parents."

It's been two years already? How did I time travel in a vision? Cecily glares forward at James, her eyes burning holes into his chest. Seems a lot has changed.

"We were once in this together, James," she says. "You can't possibly be happy working here for them, bringing in more kids with lies of redemption."

What had happened in the duration to have caused this? I watch them to and fro, desperately trying to piece together what is going on.

"I could end myself right now," Cecily threatens. "I'd rather be dead then by brainwashed into using my powers for them."

"You wouldn't," he snaps, swiveling towards her sharply. "Half the transfer has already been completed. Your soul would be tethered to the House and its demonic energy."

"I can still visit the seer who can do a summoning to free me," she bites back.

A dam breaks open in his carefully masked poker face. He lunges at Cecily and she flinches. James is practically frothing at the mouth, trying to reason with Cecily and holding her shoulders: although she is already tied down.

"Tethered spirits no longer know themselves either. You revert to your happiest age. You forget what's happening, you forget the world you know. You wallow around in your own aether underworld, crawling through blood and filth. You blink between two dimensions, you can't stay in either one permanently. You won't even know why you want to visit the seer. You'll lose your power, Cecily. For once in your life, please, be intelligent."

Cecily's eyes blaze angrily, then it is gone in a flash of resignation.

"If that's how it is." She smiles sadly. "The Nephilum have nothing to do with me. I simply refuse. I love you, James, but I'd rather die than live this way."

In that second, James realizes the sound of her last words and backs off. I want to scream and shout at him. Why is he backing away? Help her! I struggle to reach my arms forward and stop her. But I can't. There is no way to intervene.

James holds out his hand also as if to say "Wait", but she has already bitten down hard on her own tongue. There is a major artery in the tongue, and she has severed it completely. Blood pours out of her mouth and drools down her chin. My stomach rolls in revulsion and horror.

Cecily chokes as the blood fills backward into her lungs. She makes horrible convulsing noises and thrashes in her restraints as what is left of her tongue curls back and chokes her even further. There is no regret in her expression, only stricken pain. My heart aches for the girl and tears fill my eyes. A whimper escapes me, but they cannot hear. She was too young to have sacrificed a life. This shouldn't be happening, yet it was, and I couldn't stop it.

A door suddenly slams open and Dr. Hood comes storming in. I should have known this had something to do with him. I watch him with blurry eyes as he enters; he does not look any younger than he does in present day.

"What is happening?" he demands.

James is stuck in a trance, watching his sister die before his eyes. He doesn't even move and try to stop her impending death. As Dr. Hood sees Cecily, he snaps into action. But his movements are too slow. By the time he has an injection needle in, Cecily's head has lolled to the side. Her lips are smeared with already drying blood, no longer wheezing for air. Her hands are slack, eyes blank: void of life and staring into James' in her last moment.

I want to wish she has a better afterlife. But I already know that it's not happening. It took me a while to realize, but I already know what became of her.

"No," James whispers, "No."

Dr. Hood takes out the needle from her skin and disposes of it, expressionless.

"And yet," he rasps in his strange accent, "another family member claimed by the Nephilum."

If I could, my jaw would have dropped open at Dr. Hood's absurdity. From what I've seen, Cecily had sacrificed her life because she would somehow be mindless. I still had no idea what happened, but the Nephilum had no role in this.

"You will not simply stand by this will you?" Dr. Hood asks. "You will avenge justice?" It seems like the murderer is encouraging other murders.

"Yes," James murmurs.

I stare at him. He's kidding, right?

"The Nephilum will pay for what they have done," he continues. "At least my sister cannot be controlled. I will do everything in my power to ensure they will not get their hands on our converts."

Control? Converts?

Dr. Hood clasps his hands behind his back, nodding in agreement.

"This isn't over," James whispers, half incoherently to himself. He seems a little unhinged. "Vendetta will be served."

___

I bolt upright as switches in my head click on and off to adjust from the change of setting. Hissing, I rub the back of my neck and let my eyes adjust to Sasha and Eric sitting in front of me.

"Ariel!" Sasha exclaims. "I was so worried! What happened?"

I pull myself into a sitting position. Another body suddenly plops itself next to me.

"Geez," Jesse says, rubbing at his eyes, "Casting an image on someone else is a lot harder than disguising yourself all the time."

The cold ground of the basement floor is stealing whatever warmth is left in my body. I shiver and wrap my arms around my knees. On the other side of the room, Aunt Nelly (who no longer has that strange collar around her neck) is talking animatedly with Dr. Hood. My eyes narrow. Since this vision, it's the second time I've seen him have something to do with death. I wanted to know what his deal is. My stomach twists as the sound of Cecily's choking replays in my head. The basement in my vision and this one are so, so alike.

"How long have I been out?" I ask, turning back to them.

"Just a few minutes," Jesse replies. "You said you weren't fainting, so we thought maybe that meant you didn't need any help. I simply disguised your slumped form into someone sitting and staring into space."

I nod. The rescue mission before had been extremely dangerous. That much I had known. I would be lying if I said I would have tried it for anyone other than someone who hadn't became an immediate friend. I'd grown up with my imagination and books for company. Then I had made one best friend, and I had always taken on the protective role.

"Air?" Sasha prods, "What happened?"

I wave her off. "It's nothing," I lie, "I've got a uhm... dehydration disorder. It's perfectly healthy to collapse at random times."

I'd already told people my lips were a dehydration disorder, what's another abnormality?

Jesse raises an eyebrow and Eric scoffs.

"Dehydration disorder?" Eric asks. "Is that even a thing?"

I feign an offended face. "Of course, it is!"

None of them look very convinced. But Sasha quickly changes the subject. She whacks her hands around excitedly.

"Can I tell you guys what I overheard outside now?"

Eric perks up, interested. "You overheard something?"

Sasha nods animatedly. "Apparently, there is something in the House shielding our presence. The Nephilum didn't track us down as usual because they felt a demonic presence, they didn't even know it was a Cambion hideout."

Wheels turn in my head. Could the energy surrounding the House be the thing hiding our presence? Another wheel turns and slots into place. Could the energy be what the girl in my vision, Cecily, is tethered to? Would that mean destroying the House would release her? What did that have to do with me, being the seer?

"They found us because of something else," Sasha continues, "There is an angelic presence here, and it's strong, really strong."

Jesse widens his eyes. "What? You mean there's a high-blood Nephilum hiding among us Cambions?

She shakes her head. "No, don't you think Nephilum in here would be noticed? They've already ruled that one out. The only reason why the Nephilum Elders didn't kill first and check later is because they think what they're feeling is powerful enough to disperse other presences. They wanted a safe handover."

Sasha glances at Aunt Nelly as if checking she won't overhear. Then, she turns, and announces, "They think Dr. White is harboring an angelic relic."