He wasn’t so scary anymore.
“But you got away?” Sasha asked.
“I was only eight,” I said. “I couldn’t have gotten away if I’d tried. My last night there, the elders declared they’d failed to exorcise the demon from my body, so the only thing left to do was send us both to hell so the demon no longer walked the earth.”
Phantom flames licked my skin, and I closed my eyes. “They built a wooden platform in the yard behind the church. They stoked a bonfire beneath it, and they tied me to a post in the middle. I was terrified, so completely out of my mind that I let them do it. I remember the heat of the fire, the smell of burning wood. I remember looking out and seeing my parents, watching so calmly, like they’d already accepted I was dead.
“And then a woman in a blue uniform flew in and doused the flames before I was burned too badly.” Love for that woman and a long-ago act of bravery filled my heart nearly to bursting, and I remembered clearly why I did what I did today. “A Ranger Corps Squad found me and saved me before I was murdered.”
“Christ,” Rick said.
Christ wasn’t my savior that day. That distinction belonged to four Rangers—one of whom died during my rescue. The others died before the end of the War. Those brave souls brought me back to Los Angeles to recover at Rangers Headquarters. I had mixed memories of my early weeks among the Rangers. I suffered from severe PTSD. I was terrified of adults. I hadn’t realized until later that a Ranger named Delphi made the decision to put psychic shields around my worst memories of the torture. Those shields allowed me to trust, to make friends with the other kids at HQ, and to find a sense of normalcy among other Metas.
The day we lost our powers in Central Park, Delphi’s psychic shields broke. For days after, I was dealing not only with the loss of my powers, the loss of my friends, and the destruction of my entire life, but also an influx of memories I’d thought long gone. The government put me into a psychiatric treatment facility for four months before I was given to a foster family.
If the Rangers saved my life when I was eight, then Alfred and Joan Wimbley saved my life again when I was twelve. They were the most loving, patient, understanding parents a traumatized ex-Meta could have asked for, and I missed them every day. But I didn’t dare visit them. As long as no one realized our connection, they’d stay safely out of public scrutiny. I’d never put their lives in danger.
I briefly outlined these things for my audience. They needed to understand that not all mundane people were evil, and that the Rangers had been, at heart, doing the right thing. No matter what the government tried to do under the table, there had been a lot of true heroes in the Corps.
“After the War ended, it wasn’t easy still being blue,” I said. “But I learned to embrace my skin color. I can’t change it, so I can at least celebrate it. And the thing that unites us, you guys and me? We’re Metas, no matter what. We might be different, but we’re all different together.”
No one spoke for a long minute.
“Thank you,” Sasha said. “For telling us all of that. You didn’t have to.”
“I think I did, but you’re welcome.”
I got up to partake of their self-draining toilet, then used a bottle of water by the sink to wash my hands. I didn’t bother to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I knew it well enough. I embraced the lightness inside me at having exorcised a demon from long ago in the simple telling of a story. I felt it all over.
The others were back to sleep when I returned to the living room. I curled up on my mattress, unsurprised to see a pillow and blanket had been left for me.
This time I slept.
The next day was definitely in the running to become Longest Day Ever by the time evening rolled around. Teresa called roughly every four hours with an update on Maddie’s condition, which ping-ponged all over the place. At ten o’clock she was “feverish and fighting an infection.” Around two she was “stable and her fever’s going down.”
We spent our time indoors, keeping a low profile just like Teresa said, and slowly losing our minds. Seven people, six of them teenagers, stuck in a small house with no fresh air and few forms of entertainment, led to a lot of fighting. And talking. We played poker for matchsticks, and I hustled Tate, Nicolas, and Sasha the first game. Afterward, I taught them all about tells, odds, and how to bluff.
Barry mostly kept to himself, reading a battered paperback that had probably been left behind by the house’s previous owners. He only became animated when the phone rang with an update. Bethany and Rick paired off quickly and spent a lot of time in the kitchen, out of sight. At one point they disappeared upstairs, and we listened to a lot of creaking and heavy breathing for a while.
When they came downstairs later, Bethany was beaming and Rick looked stunned. Poor guy.
Teresa’s next call didn’t come until nearly seven. Sasha, bored with poker, had taken a nap, and she bolted upright when the phone rang. “Yes?” she said.
We all stopped our activities and watched as her eyes widened. She grinned and said, “Maddie?”
Barry fled across the room as fast as a boy without superspeed could go, and he barely stopped himself from yanking the phone away from Sasha. “She’s talking?” he asked. Sasha slapped a hand over Barry’s mouth.
“You had us all scared, girlie,” she said. “They treating you good?” Nod. “Excellent.” Pause. “Yeah, hold on.” She handed the phone to Barry, who looked ready to burst into tears.
“Madeline?” he said after he fumbled the phone three times.
I sympathized with that sort of worry and fear. I’d been there. I’d gotten the phone call telling me someone I loved was out of danger. I’d also felt the grief that came with the opposite news.
“The infection’s gone,” Sasha reported to us while Barry spoke into the phone in hushed tones. “She’s alert and feeling better.”
A round of cheers went up, followed by some hugging and backslaps. I sat quietly, cheering on the inside, happy for them. Truly happy.
Barry and Maddie spoke for a few more minutes, and then he handed the phone over to Sasha. She wandered into the kitchen to finish the call. I’d almost made up my mind to teach the group to play seven-card stud when she came back into the living room. Her expression made everyone pause and stare.
“What?” Rick asked.
“They did what they promised and healed Maddie,” Sasha said. “So far, they’re keeping their word. I trust Trance.”
“Okay.”
“Trance invited me to visit the HQ. Not just to see Maddie, but to meet everyone and see the facilities. Their defenses, too.”
Rick stood up, hands flashing blue with firework power. “You’re going alone?”
“Yes.”
“Sash—”
“I’ve made the decision, Rick. Renee will stay here with you guys, and you’ll be in charge while I’m gone.” She waved her hands around. “Isn’t it better to let them protect us than keep living like this?”
“So we go from being on our own to being their prisoners?”
“We wouldn’t be prisoners. And what’s so great about being on our own? We’re hunted now, and we have no clue what to do next. This feels right.”
Rick scowled, but he didn’t argue further.
“Are you taking the car?” Nicolas asked.
“No, I’ll, uh”—she glanced at me—“get another one. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon, I promise.”
“Hey, can you do me a favor?” Bethany asked.
Sasha nodded. “Sure.”
“Tell Landon I’m sorry I’m not there, and that I love him.”
“I can do that.”
After Sasha left, the house settled into an oddly melancholy state, despite the good news about Maddie. We slapped together a dinner of peanut butter sandwiches with pretzels. I told a few stories of my adventures since January, leaving out the gory or depressing things, but even that got old. It wasn’t until later, when I wanted to
