Daughter of Zeus ✔

14.3

Days before, Ada had agreed to a purge with her father and grandfather.

Though she was hesitant to agree with either of the family liars, she decided, oddly, it might be the best way to get more answers.

To start, Ada asked Moretz what he meant by the word "purge," he described it as an ancient ritual, a release of energy and a meeting of the powerful. The description sounded useless to her, but Kressick was even less forthcoming. In her imagination, they were meeting a group of like-minded freaks on the private fields located on the Moretz estate.

Moretz led Kressick and Ada to a golf cart.  A miniature gas guzzler!, a holograph proclaimed on the golf cart's dashboard. She climbed in the back, hoping to sit alone. Then Moretz sat next to her, and she rolled her eyes.

A few miles from the house, they drove by a clearing. It was surrounded by a row of trees perfectly lined up, too perfect to be grown that way by Mother Nature. As they neared the trees, Ada made out small black lines inscribed in the bark that disturbed.

They looked like burn marks.

"I thought you could only manipulate electronics," she said to Moretz.

"There are times when I can do other things."

Kressick parked the golf cart near the trees.

Moretz didn't elaborate on the other things, so Ada asked Kressick: "Are any of those marks from you?"

She helped her grandfather out of his seat, more to pick his brain than because he needed the help.

"No, my powers are strictly internal," he said.

"Did any of the marks come from Darcy?"

The two men exchanged looks, and she was kept out of their silent communication.

"Her powers have yet to manifest," Kressick finally answered. "Yours, however, have fully matured. It's part of why we're here."

An altar stood before the sacrificial line of trees. It held books, papers, and small tokens resembling artifacts. She couldn't tell what they were or what era they had come from. Without asking permission, Ada thumbed through the thick books, all of which felt on the verge of crumbling. The yellowed pages were covered with strange languages and pictures, often featuring women surrounded by fire.

"Fire?" She turned a page, flinching when it came out in her hands.

Kressick took the book with all the delicacy he would use if handling a newborn. "No, not fire. You know what it is. The renderings may be crude and faded, but they mean something."

Moretz lugged a bag out from the golf cart. He unzipped the bag and took out a pair of shining gloves, similar to chain mail, but thinner and lighter.

As he donned the odd apparel, Ada asked, "Are we sacrificing an animal tonight?"

"Don't be silly," Kressick said.

"Why do you worship these books? They look about as reliable as the Bible."

"We don't worship the books. We respect the answers found inside. What other answer would you give? Why are we the way we are?" Moretz challenged.

The gloves made him appear different, larger. Then she decided he just looked stupid. "Genetics? Science?"

"All we know for sure about our powers is that others before us had variations of it, and they always purged. Sometimes several times a month."

She tired of hearing vague references to what was shaping up to be a druid ritual. In high school, her friend's sister had always gone to the bathroom after dinner. When Ada caught her puking into the toilet mid-meal, the girl calmly explained she was only purging. Other associations she could think of for the word were all bad. To purge was to expel something evil. To be purged was not something she wanted to happen.

"What is the damn purge?"

Kressick nodded at Moretz, who began staring intensely at the row of trees. The bastard was holding his breath, readying himself. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he had to take a shit.

"To purge is to release all spiritual and physical energy into the earth, channeled through the trees. You go for hours until there's nothing left, then you collapse from the strain. It's a draining experience, and for some it can take days to recover. After recovery, many purge again," Kressick said.

It sounded like an insane process, and she didn't want to be in a vulnerable position. She had done that, crying, pathetic, (I'm so sorry) and she wasn't going back to being that person.

"Why would anyone want to purge more than once?"

"With each purge, you only get stronger," he said.

Purging sounded appealing after all.

~*~