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The President's Daughter

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Chapter 2

Before the President finished saying his piece I was in motion. Feet flying over the concrete floor before I floated above it completely. But I heard him all the same. And he was right. We would need God to save us if I lost.

The World Council would give us a brief opportunity to stop this ourselves. Then they would send their own supers to take down Jocelyn, before making an example of our nation. My thoughts paused. Was that the first time I had said her name today? The knife that twisted in my heart said yes.

By the time my phone chimed with her last known whereabouts I was already crossing over the Atlantic. And glad for the light jacket I had brought with me. From up in the cold clouds I could see the blue ocean stretched out below me. Then it was gone, replaced by land as I passed over Europe.

I stopped for only a moment to get my bearings, blinking and breaking the light coating of ice on my lashes. The entire trip had taken minutes. It was risky to be in foreign airspace without proper clearance. But even from here I could feel her, somewhere in the Middle East.

“Foolish girl.” I muttered. Not even bothering to hide her presence. I knew I had trained her better than that. It was yet another sign that she was too far gone to care. Briefly I wondered if there was something we could have done. But what? How do you deal with an immensely powerful individual after their mind is gone? Our answer had been confinement. For all the good it had done.

As miles and miles of sand filled my vision I closed my eyes and imagined unscrewing a valve. With a final twist I felt a sudden shift in pressure all around my body and stopped myself in mid air, arms folded. I could feel it when she noticed me, like a familiar hand wrapped around my body before letting go. This was going to be my gamble. That she would come to me instead of forcing this confrontation into a city. Where untold numbers of innocents would die.

When a thirty minutes passed, I closed my eyes to keep from staring at the time. And promised myself that in another thirty minutes I would go in. And let the chips fall where they may. But the promise was unnecessary. The gamble paid off.

“Jocelyn.” I said to the empty air, but the fast approaching dot on the horizon still responded.

“Charlie.” Came the breathy, falsetto response.

Then she was in front of me. And my breath stopped in my throat, she was almost the same little girl. Except now she was all grown up. Fiery red hair down to her waist flowed in the wind. She wore blue jeans and a black tank top, pale skin exposed to the sun. Even the playful smile was familiar but ruined by the blood.

Both arms looked as if they had been dipped up to the elbow in buckets of red paint, but I could smell that it wasn’t paint. Small drops of blood spatter had marked her face randomly. Most likely arterial spray from someone’s throat. And eyes that used to be a warm green were now colder than a glacier.

“What’s wrong Charlie?” She said, voice sing-song. “No hugs for your favorite little girl?”

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