The Gifted

10 | Podunk

Anna loved everything about herself except her bladder.

When she was a kid, she could go hours and hours without having to pee. Then, around her early twenties, a switch was flipped. A single glass of water would do it. To prevent discomfort, she had to be careful. Going on a hunting hike? Better go to the bathroom right before. Oh, you stalled for a few minutes to gather your things, take care of an errand or two before heading out on the aforementioned hike? Better go to the bathroom again, just in case.

Or maybe she was exaggerating, and she was perfectly fine and could simply no longer stand even the slightest need to pee the way she did when she was younger.

The reason she was thinking about this now was that the drink was disgusting. Her usual go-to was an Americano, delightfully bittersweet and very low on alcohol, but Anna wanted to get tipsy this time, and that would require drinking several Americanos and inevitably having to pee several times. So she asked for a single strong drink instead, and she'd already forgotten what the bartender said it was called when he set it down in front of her. It burned, and she hated it, but the drink was obviously succeeding, or else she wouldn't be minutes-deep into ruminating about her bladder, of all things.

Anna paid for it and exited the bar. It had rained while she was in there; rippling puddles reflected the neon signs in the alleyway, and a cold, fresh, wet scent hung in the air. She was in some podunk town outside of Denver, and it was almost midnight, and she stared at the sky, wondering if she should sleep in her car or walk to a motel.

When she looked back down, a man was standing in front of her. She'd heard him coming, but she'd thought he was going to pass by her. Instead, he stood inches away, eyes small and nervous and leering, a switchblade wavering in his hand.

Anna couldn't help it; she rolled her eyes. To be confronted by a typical shithead when you were a Gifted-hunting Enhanced felt like an undermining joke.

He asked for something, probably valuables, but she ignored it and touched his face. He reeled back, and though she knew the chances were slim, she was disappointed to feel no spark of power. He wasn't Gifted, so she couldn't paralyze him. She'd have to physically get away.

Her abrupt touch had freaked him out enough to trigger fight or flight, and he raised his switchblade. A small part of Anna had kicked into overdrive and was running through the dozens of moves she could make, but she just stared at the approaching blade, too tipsy and annoyed to actually do anything.

Then Death appeared right behind him, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him around.

Anna took a surprised step back. Death whispered something too low to hear and planted a gentle kiss on the guy's cheek. He staggered back, the switchblade falling from his grip, his skin turning ashy and gray. Anna watched, eyes wide, as he died in a matter of seconds, falling face-down on the ground, the neon reflections rippling around him. She knew that Death could devour anyone, Gifted or not, but she'd never seen it live, never watched as everything that made up a person was sucked out like it was nothing. A drop in a bucket of souls.

Anna looked at Death, and she could tell that she wasn't in possession of anyone's body like with Monique. This was Death's real face, and she was wearing the same clothes as Anna, but in different colors. Pants, shirt, and a jacket. The only difference was the black rose in her black hair. She looked less like an ancient deity and more like a fashionable thirty-something from this time period. Was she trying to look relatable to her?

"I didn't need your help," Anna snapped. "I could've handled that myself."

"Of course, I suppose that's why you stood there and did nothing." Death tilted her head, lips drawn into a curious pout. "You never struck me as the type to drink, not when you've got an important task. Have you...given up?"

Anna started toward her car, hands clenched in her pockets. "I don't know where he is," she said stiffly, "and I have no way of finding him."

"It took your father's scouts years to track him down, and you're giving up after a few days?"

Anna took a deep, exasperated breath and turned around. "Isn't that what you wanted?" she spat. There was no response, only the sound of rainwater gurgling in the gutters. She shook her head. "I'm going home to Ohio. I think enjoying solitude in a house in the middle of nowhere might've been the best thing for me."

Death frowned. "Then why did you jump at the chance to get back in the game?"

Anna scoffed, her shoulders rising in a weak heave of laughter.

"My dear." Death shook her head softly. "Did you truly believe that devouring Jack Parker would make the Enhanced respect you?" she asked. "Envy is more powerful than admiration, I promise you that."

Anna blinked. What was that supposed to mean? She decided she didn't care; she needed to reach the motel before it started raining again. Even in the night, she could tell that there were dark, thunderous clouds overhead. "What do you want?" she asked finally.

"Your glove compartment is messy."

It was at this moment that Anna regretted entertaining the conversation for this long, but it was too late. Struck with a curiosity that she had no choice but to allow, she unlocked the passenger door of her car, failing to slide in the key the first few times. Was that because she was drunk, or was she afraid? If Death wanted her dead, she would already be six feet under by now. So what was the game?

Anna bent into the car and opened the glove compartment, and a piece of paper fluttered out and settled on the seat. She unfolded it to find an address in Louisiana, and without having to think, she knew what it was, because there was only one thing it could be.

Jack Parker's location.

Anna stood up. "Why would you—"

But Death was gone.

And it started to rain.