Vitrian Secrets - Dele Andersen (best novels to read in english .txt) 📗

need to concentrate and focus on it.” She paused.

“What about the glowing?”

“The Praying Méndez will glow when you have spent adequate time praying. How much you pray is what charges it, and when you face demons, it will glow based on whether or not your time in prayer was adequate.”

Wanda blinked in confusion. “Who accepts or determines whether the prayers are good or sufficient?”

“Really?” Becky looked at Wanda strangely. “Do I look like God to you? All I know is that as a Vitrian, you have to pray constantly, not that we all do. I know some don't pray for weeks, but when you pray, your Méndez is charged, and no demon can come near you. But some Vitrians are so lazy they look for other means to strengthen themselves.”

“Other means?”

“Yes. Sorcery, of course,” Becky said, looking at her like she must be the greatest fool on earth to be so naive about everything. “Well, without power in the Praying Méndez, you’re dead meat if you meet a demon out there.”

Wanda's eyes narrowed, though she knew Becky was just sarcastic.

“I'm not trying to scare you. I can be blunt; I know people say that,” Becky said. “But I still believe you're dead meat going out there with us, no matter what anyone says. Alexis knows that, and I can't understand why he wants you to get yourself killed.”

“Why are you so. . . ?” Wanda turned her head in frustration.

“What?” Becky smiled. “Look at the Necatus you are holding.”

Wanda looked down at the silver peg in her hand. She knew Becky was right, but her attitude enraged Wanda.

“You can barely throw it straight at a target. You'll be lucky if we meet weak demons who die just by you stabbing them with the Necatus. If we meet the other kind . . .” Becky paused and then spoke her next words slowly, much to Wanda’s annoyance. “You’ll—make—for—good—meat.”

“Enough of your rudeness!” Wanda threw the Necatus down. The shiny object clanged on the floor and bounced several times before it came to a halt a few feet away.

“Oh, you think it's going to be like going to a school party or chatting with lover boy Petter.” Becky spoke in a thin, mocking voice, annoying Wanda even further.

“Petter is not my lover!”

“Yeah, right.” Becky blinked several times. “A lot of people are going to get injured today; we’ll be lucky if no one dies.”

Wanda huffed, but Becky’s words sank in. Becky was right. Perhaps all those people at the Medical Hall were suffering because of her.

“But it isn't my fault,” Wanda said, disassociating herself from the attack. “The Vitrians would have left to find the rebels with or without me.”

“No. If you hadn't shown up here, we would have continued to live happily and peacefully with the rebels in possession of the Healing Méndez.” Becky tilted her head to the side. She placed her hands on her waist, a furious look on her face. “Do you know what really happened to your dad?”

“Don't go there.” Wanda's response was curt, with a venomous undertone.

“I guess the rumor is true, then . . . your mum never told you. She hid you away after your dad died nine years ago.”

“Stop!” Wanda warned, making her voice louder and stronger than before.

“He was torn apart by a demon. It was so bad that an open casket could not be done for him, as much as he was loved around here. Vitrian’s never miss an open casket. It is an honor to view great people before they are finally buried, but your father did not have one.”

“Stop it!” Wanda pushed Becky hard enough to make her stagger backward. “How can you be so bitter? How can you be so insensitive? Do you know how painful it is, hearing all of this?” Wanda’s eyes burned, but she was determined not to give Becky the satisfaction of seeing her break down in tears.

Becky caught herself and kept from falling. “I think you should know and think about the number of parents and children that might die today.” She walked toward the dressing room.

“I hate you!” Wanda yelled. She picked up a Necatus and threw it with intense anger and force at a target. Her eye burned with rage. To her surprise, like a scene captured in slow motion, she watched the Necatus turn into a burning metal as it rotated in midair.

It stuck straight within the circle and set the entire target on fire. Wanda looked at her hands. They vibrated vigorously and were extremely hot, but she didn't understand where the fire came from.

She stood there for a few minutes and watched in shock as the fire engulfed the target. She stared at her hand and the fire until she heard Bathe.

“Holy fire!” Bathe exclaimed as he rushed in from the entrance of the elders' training area.

 

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

 

Chapter 11

 

Chapter 11

 

“Wow!” Bathe grabbed a fire extinguisher, hurried to the burning target, and released the foam onto the fire. He put the extinguisher down and looked up; Wanda followed his gaze to see Alexis walking out from behind the glass separating him from the elders' training area.

Bathe walked up to Wanda. “It seems to be true that your chosen power works with rage.”

“The prophecy,” Wanda muttered, remembering what Alexis had said the day before.

“‘Rage that shall burn with holy fire,’” Bathe said, and Wanda looked up to see a smile of satisfaction on his face.

“Did I just do that?” Wanda was distraught.

“I'll remember to be careful and keep away from you when you’re annoyed,” Bathe said jokingly.

“I'm not in the mood right now, Bathe.” Wanda looked firmly into his eyes, searching for answers. “Did I do that?”

“It was a compliment, not a complaint.” Bathe paused for a moment, and then answered with his lips quirking upward at the edges. “What do you think? Metals don't suddenly turn into fire.”

Wanda’s heart sank. “I didn't mean to do anything wrong.”

“Becky told me she said something about your dad.” He waited, but Wanda looked away in vexation. “She's with Alexis now. On the other side.” He pointed. “I saw the fire and came running.”

“I don't care if she's reporting on herself. She hurt my feelings deeply.”

“You know a lot of people here are looking forward to what will come out of you in the end. Some people are scared, and some are worried. Some feel good, and some don't even know what to expect from you.”

“What happened to my dad?” Wanda asked, not listening to Bathe. She knew asking her mum would be better, but she couldn't let her mum know what she had planned. She had left a note for her mum saying she would be spending the day with Petter to get to know the fortress better and meet people. “How did he die?”

“I saw Sofia before coming here. I told her you're doing well with the other children.”

“You can just tell me you don't want to answer,” Wanda said, annoyed at how he avoided the question. She walked toward the entrance.

“He was killed by a demon,” Bathe said, and Wanda stopped in her tracks. She didn't turn back to look at him but waited for him to continue.

“Don't blame your mum. She didn’t want you to feel the pain you’re feeling now when Marcus died. You were only seven, or was it eight? She told you it was a car accident and asked me and everyone else to say the same.”

“The demon . . . did it rip him to pieces?” She still did not turn back to look at Bathe. Her rage grew, raising the temperature of the enclosed room.

“That does not matter, Wanda. What you need to know is that he was a great man to everyone who knew him.”

“Then we should get going very soon. The rebels will pay,” Wanda said. “Whatever it takes, I'll make sure they pay. I'll kill them one after the other.” She walked away, briskly.

Wanda got into the dressing area and studied it once more. It was like a dressing room for a team of sportsmen and women. It contained rows of lockers. She walked to the locker allocated to her and sat in front of it. She thought about her father, about his brutal death, and pained tears trickled down her cheeks. She stood up and opened her locker. The anger grew, and she slammed the door and wept some more.

The loud noise of the metal door slamming shut resonated in the dressing room. She stepped into a corner, weeping quietly so no one would hear her.

Suddenly she froze where she squatted and wept. She could hear Bathe and Alexis talking about her outside the dressing room.

Bathe sighed deeply. “I really wish Wanda would understand that anger could destroy everything she loves. I wish she had inherited the gift of a more peaceful approach, like Marcus.”

“Are you sure she's okay? Do you need me to talk to her?” Alexis asked.

“She'll be all right. Wanda is strong, though Becky should not have mentioned anything about Marcus.”

“Well, you know Becky can be stubborn.”

“Ah!” Bathe moaned. “I wish she wasn’t. Wanda is a good girl.”

Bathe’s support surprised her. Wanda had expected Bathe to push her under the bus at every opportunity. Hearing him support her in a discussion with Alexis gave her more confidence in Bathe.

“Everyone believes she's The Chosen, and there’s no reason for Becky to test her rage.”

“I know, but as much as I've cautioned Becky, you agree we have to let Wanda know the power that resides in her.”

“Yes,” Bathe replied, his voice unhappy. “But Becky shouldn't have dropped the news on her like that. Telling her Marcus was torn to pieces by a demon is not right.”

“If the old and dead prophecy is right, we need to let Wanda vent her anger,” Alexis said. “We will only know what she can do when she is annoyed.”

“Yes, but not by us feeding that anger,” Bathe said. “It has to come naturally.”

“Becky didn't feed it,” Alexis said.

“It sounds like she did to me. She knows better. We don't provoke or tease the Vitrians who have lost loved ones. It’s against the law.”

“Well, I am head of the council,” Alexis said. “Do you want to file a complaint against Becky? She's just a child too.”

Bathe took a deep breath before continuing. “Leave it. I’m sure Becky was just under pressure too.”

“I agree with you, my friend.” Alexis' voice sounded cunning. “Tell me again about this demon you fought before getting here.”

“What about it?” Bathe sounded surprised that Alexis wanted to know more about the grayish-white creature.

“You said it held onto your Praying Méndez briefly,” Alexis said.

“No, not briefly,” Bathe said, confusion evident in his voice. “It stepped beyond the barrier I created. It was like I could not bind it. It held on tight to my Méndez, draining the power out of it, and by the time its hands were off, my Méndez was out of juice.”

“Hmm!” Alexis sighed. “That's disturbing. You are one of the men with the strongest Praying Méndez around here.”

“Yes, it's a concern for me too,” Bathe said. “Do you know what shocked me the most when I challenged it?”

“What?”

“It spoke . . . it spoke very audibly when it clubbed