Chapter 12

Zane threw up his hands. The wooden deer horn knives intercepted the thick wooden staff as it came down, heading for his head. He winced as the impact jarred his arms. His fingers were numb from blocking Daisy's strikes over and over. But he gritted his teeth and pushed, deflecting the staff.

"Good," Daisy said. She was standing across from him, with the staff gripped in her hands. Her light blue jeans were rolled above her knees, and her upper body was encased in a pale yellow sleeveless shirt. Sweat trickled down her forehead and neck. Her blue hair was collected in a uniform ponytail, centered on the top of her head. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving.

Zane knew he looked similar. The sweat had plastered his stray blond hair to his forehead, almost long enough to block out his sight. He had replaced his previous outfit with a pair of shorts and a white tee. He was exhausted, but Daisy had insisted they keep training. Both with their weapons and their powers.

Daisy, upon learning that Zane and Joseph had never used a weapon before and were still slightly uncertain about these new abilities, had taken it upon herself to be their coach. For the last three days, she had been teaching Zane how to stand, how to hold his weapons, and different strikes he could use. She had also taught them how to control their powers. She had insisted they sit in a dark room and meditate. She told them to envision their abilities like a faucet that they could turn on and off at will. Zane was still having troubles, but Joseph was taking leaps and bounds.

"Watch out," Daisy said, and slowly she lifted from the ground. Her feet relaxed and pointed toward the ground. She still held the staff firmly as she ascended into the air. "Unpredictable enemy." She tilted her body slightly forward and zipped through the air, stopping behind Zane. He turned quickly, but by then she was gone again.

"Focus, Zane," she said.

He envisioned the faucet. He scrunched his eyebrows together, and he imagined the faucet running, producing clear, cool, water.

He opened his eyes to see the staff come down upon him. It sliced right through him, meeting no resistance. His body exploded outward in a cloud of floating particles. Daisy nodded approval, trying vainly to find any physical part of his body to concentrate on. Finding none, she took up a defensive stance, expecting an attack.

Zane focused on a spot just out of her line of vision. He saw this spot through a million eyes and zeroed in on it. He ordered his cells to converge on that spot and reform into his physical body. The pair of deer horn knives lay on the mat at his feet. He knew he could've taken them with him, but he didn't want the others to suspect anything. He didn't want to be pressured to escape.

His particles reformed. He gave a relieved sigh when his eyes reformed and he didn't have to depend on all of his cells. He tuned out the other eyes, the thousands of others that had yet to converge into his legs.

Daisy whirled, but not fast enough.

Zane sacrificed the cells from one of his feet to create a staff in his hands. He was in the air, after all. He struck out, hitting the back of Daisy's knees, but not too hard, because he didn't want to injure her. But she did gasp sharply, and he winced.

The force of the blow rolled her in midair, turning her so her back was above the ground. Zane's reformed body was claimed by gravity and he began to descend. As he fell, he placed his staff over her chest, assuring she fell with him.

She hit the ground with a noise of surprise. Zane almost toppled sideways because he had forgotten he only had one foot. He slowed the faucet of power and his staff disintegrated and his foot returned. He stood properly, dividing his weight between his feet.

He offered Daisy his hand and helped her up. "That was a great idea," she said approvingly. "Using the fact that we were airborne to your advantage." He smiled and nodded, accepting her praise. She released his hand and turned around.

They strode from the mat to a bench along the wall. They had pulled it from the gymnasium, sliding it from one cavernous room to another. Daisy and Zane collapsed onto it, breathing heavily. Zane was surprised Daisy didn't immediately doze off. That seemed to be her go-to pastime.

Instead she picked up a nearby cup brimming with water and drained it in one gulp. "You'll be ready for real blades soon," she said matter-of-factly.

Zane was doubtful. "I don't know if I'd feel comfortable using them," he said. "With the wooden ones I know I can't hurt you."

She gave him a smile, rubbing the backs of her knees. "You can hurt me, sweetie," she said contentedly.

Zane returned her smile easily, and the stress in his mind seemed to ease. He noticed something in the pocket of her jeans. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. It was quite large, protruding from her thigh. "What's that?" he asked curiously, angling his eyes toward her hips.

She smiled sadly and pulled it from her pocket. "My wallet," she said. "From back home in Moscow." She flipped open the leather wallet, revealing several occupied slots. One contained a bright red credit card, worn down by use. Placed in another slot was a driver's license outfitted with a picture of scowling Daisy upon it. Several bills of money were crumpled and shoved in the back.

Zane noticed something near the front of the wallet, half covered by the credit card. Daisy didn't object as he reached forward, slowly and carefully drew it out. She just looked on sadly, and her expression darkened when she saw the photo he now clutched in his hands. She pursed her lips as if defending a wave of sadness, which she very well might have been doing.

"Is this your family?" He repositioned his fingers, careful not to smudge the worn, old photograph. She gave a curt nod and he turned his attention to the image.

A family of five was seated around a table. Their faces were all upturned and they were giving the camera easy, carefree smiles. The mother and father were seated at the end of the table, and their hands were clasped upon the table. The man had light blond hair, while the mother's hair was a beautiful cinnamon color. Freckles dotted her cheeks, her equivalent to her husband's facial stubble.

Two girls were sitting on one side of the table, still quite young. An older boy sat opposite from them, and he appeared to be Zane's age, if not a year or two older. He was laughing, his mouth turned up and dimples formed on his cheeks. His hazel eyes, the same color as Daisy's, were fixed on the girls across the table. His hair was dark, almost black, so different from his parents' that Zane briefly wondered if he was a cousin. This assumption vanished when his gaze shifted to the girls across the table.

They were obviously twins, with the same dark hair as their brother. They appeared to be around ten years old, and their hair was cut at the same length. Their faces were the exact same, the same angular chin and curved nose, raised eyebrows. The only difference was their eyes. One of the girls had black eyes so it seemed like she only had a pupil but no iris. The other girl had Daisy's marvelous shade of hazel, so light it appeared almost a beige color. Both girls appeared extremely familiar, and Zane knew he had seen the dark eyed girl before.

"Is this you?" Zane asked, pointing to the smiling girl with hazel eyes.

Daisy took the photograph from him, grasping it gently. "Yep. That's me." Her eyes were pained, so different from the youthful, fun-loving eyes of the girl in the picture. She pointed to her twin. "That's Anastasia," she whispered. "She was the brave twin."

"Who's that?" Zane's finger hovered over the handsome laughing boy.

Daisy chuckled. "Dmitri," she told him. "He was so funny." Her voice took on a sad tone. "He's twenty-three now. I haven't seen him in six years."

"Six years?" Zane said, his eyes widening at the thought of the Daisy in the photograph losing the laughing brother she had once had in the image.

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Anastasia and I were taken away when we were eleven, placed in a facility much like this." Zane stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. "They poked and prodded us, injected us with hundreds of different serums until they finally perfected it and gave us these curses." She looked at her hands in disgust.

"Where is Anastasia now?" he asked her softly.

"She's here," Daisy said. "In one of the other rooms. Wawrzynski wanted to run extra, solitary tests on her. That's what he said, anyway."

Zane remembered the girl he had seen on the way in, the screaming girl thrashing around in the lava on the floor of the steel cell. "Did she by any chance have bright red hair?" he said, recalling more and more details of the girl. He remembered dark eyes, full of pain, begging for everything to stop.

"Yes!" Daisy leaned forward. "Have you seen her?"

Zane nodded slowly and was energized by the hopeful look in Daisy's eyes. "When I first got here. She was drowning in lava."

Daisy shook her head. "That was her power. She could produce it, control it, tolerate it, breathe in it. It was just like air for her." She licked her lips. "She was too strong to be left alone."

Zane's voice was soft, not wanting to upset her, but still trying to coerce information from her. "What happened to Dmitri?" He moved a little closer, offering her comfort. She had never seemed so somber, so sad.

"I don't know," she responded, repositioning the empty cup in her hands, flipping it over and over. "They took us away and left him behind. I haven't seen him since he chased after the van they took us away with."

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"We'll get Anastasia back." His words seemed like an empty promise. He had the ability to escape and rescue Anastasia right now, but he cursed himself for his reluctance, his wanting to be reassured that his assumptions were correct. He could only hope this validation came soon.

Daisy said nothing. She dropped the cup, took the picture back, and shoved it back in her wallet unceremoniously. Shoving the leather wallet back in her pocket, she stood up abruptly, striding off toward where Mallory and Marcus lay panting from a particularly invigorating sparring match. There was a spring in her step, a change in her gait that was hardly noticeable. But it was there.

Zane stared into the distance and didn't notice Joseph until he was seated next to him. "What was that about?" he asked. "She looks like a thousand pounds were just lifted off her shoulders."

Zane shrugged. "She told me about her family," he said softly. "In Moscow."

Joseph splayed his legs, placing his heels upon the ground. "You're easy to talk to," he said. "You've got such an open mind. I guess that's one good thing that came from being raised in New Vancouver."

Zane sighed. "Yeah,"

He thought about all that Daisy had been through. How she had been torn away from her parents at eleven, watched her brother fade through a window and not know what happened to him, and then lost her twin sister. Yet she managed to stay cheerful and visibly carefree. Could she just be avoiding the trauma she had suffered in the past? Was that why she hid the picture behind the credit card?

If Daisy could acknowledge these tragic past events, then Zane could steel himself to escape and disregard everything, sacrifice everything to save the girl who sacrificed everything. He envisioned the chess board within his mind, and saw many queens topple, revealing a jagged path toward the end.

The queens were not all gone. The path to the end was dangerous and risky. But he had to try for Daisy's sake.

He pictured Wawrzynski's stern expression in his mind's eye, the downturned smile, the vicious eyes. A queen blocked his path as he realized the extent Wawrzynski would go to in order to keep them in here. They were already fenced in by steel and were not given access to a window. This building was designed to hold superpowered teenagers like him.

He also had Daisy's sister. Zane knew deep down that Wawrzynski would not hesitate to use her as a bargaining chip. He had no shame, no reluctance, no mind of his own. He belonged to the entity that was New Vancouver. And if the chance arose to save New Vancouver from cursed teens running rampant through the dark streets and alleyways, he would take it. He would threaten Daisy with her sister's life. And Zane could not put Daisy through that.

The others strolled over, and Daisy was smiling. It seemed extremely genuine.

Mallory stopped and placed her hands on her hips. "This is the only room that isn't bugged besides the bathroom," she said matter-of-factly. "I've checked."

Marcus nodded along with her. "We were thinking now would be a good time to discuss our plans to get the hell out of here," he told them. "And we didn't think Wawrzynski would turn a blind eye if we all piled into the bathroom together."

Joseph laughed, and they all fixed him with intense glares. Zane covered his mouth to keep his own laugh from escaping. "Sorry," Joseph muttered. "Go on."

"Marcus and I have worked out a plan. We think it'll work," Mallory stated. "We just need to know if you guys are with us or not."

Zane should not have been surprised. Daisy had hinted at escape within the first few minutes of Joseph and Zane arriving here.

The chess board changed. Zane was now one pawn in a line of five, all willing to do what it took to demolish the queens and aid Zane in battling his inner demons. The queens cowered before them, stepping aside to let them through. Zane smiled, because he already knew the answer to Mallory's question. This was not a lone battle.

Joseph nodded toward Mallory, acknowledging his eagerness to escape. "Zane?" he asked, as if he expected Zane to say no.

Zane grinned broadly. "I'm in,"