A Mark Unwilling Read online

  Upset, I harshly shove the cotton onto his right ear, whispering, “I hope your ears take years to grow back.” And then I storm over to Mike. My arms, crossed over my chest, tighten when I near him.

  He has his shirt unbuttoned and laying on the counter. Deep cuts mar his back, but he focuses on the burns on his neck, which he received from the Devil, when he first appeared. Without facing me, he mutters, “I see both our masters left us.”

  I move and grab more peroxide, pouring some on a towel. “Mine is off pouting.” I hold it against his back, and he tenses instantly, veins popping as he grabs the edge of the counter. I suppose I could have given him a fair warning, but he did shoot me. Still bitter about that.

  “I’m sure mine is very unhappy with me and yours,” Mike says through clenched teeth.

  “Was that the plan from the beginning?” I question, pressing the cloth hard against his wounds.

  It’s a long while before he says a simple “Yes.”

  “I’m a little hurt, Mike, I got to say.” I certainly don’t like that idea of being targeted. “Why didn’t you just kill me in the school? I’m sure you had the special bullet with you. It would’ve been easier and faster—” It dawns on me that the only reason an FBI agent was there so fast was that he was already on campus, watching me.

  “You just stopped a shooter,” he pulls away from the cloth, turning to face me. Despite the fact that he’s my mom’s age, his chest is nice. A little hairy, but nice—if you ignore the giant handprint Mark. The black color is sparkled with grey. An activated Mark. The tattoo on his forearm is just that—a tattoo. A lie I so willingly believed. “In that moment, the last thing on my mind was killing you. And then I saw you in that hospital bed, and I…” The man breathes out, hanging his head low. “Every time I thought about doing it, I faltered. You stepped in between me and a Horseman—”

  I cut in, “Something I started to regret the moment you shot me.” I bring the cloth to his neck, to his burns, and he holds in a wince. “How long have you been in Hades’s service?”

  “A few years.”

  That is definitely not what I expected him to say. What would Hades want with a middle-aged man’s soul?

  “Why?” I say, my attitude showing despite my attempts to stop it.

  “That’s private,” he says, turning away from me.

  I drop the towel. “And you shot me. That’s personal.” Throwing my hands up, I say, “Whatever. Keep it to yourself. But if Hades ever orders you to kill me again, I’ll be ready. Next time I won’t be so forgiving. And if you hurt any of my friends, or my mom, I’ll make you wish you never sold your soul to that thing.”

  I walk away, infuriated.

  Men. They’re all so stupid. The world would be better off without them. I’m sure that if women band together, we’d find a way to raise babies and further the species without their help. Science can make miracles.

  Although, being the end of the world, I do think we’re past that point, now.

  As I walk out, I say loudly so that both David and Mike hear, “Remind me never to be alone in a room with him.” A childish move, but I don’t care. I think, after everything, I’ve earned the right to be childish when I want to be.

  I head down the hall, passing my mom without so much as a glance and dutifully ignore her questions about being shot and my Devil master. I make it to a gathering of undead. A gaggle of Vamps. They huddle together in the room where I was formally introduced to Cloud. Calling it the throne room seems rather silly.

  Cloud sits on his concrete seat, and two Vampires I’ve never seen before huddle around him, whispering. The rest of the Vampires hang back, waiting with anticipation. Cloud’s expression, usually one of gloom and melancholy, morphs into one of urgency and concern. He whispers something to the two surrounding him, and the two give grim nods before joining the rest of the nest.

  None give me a second glance, which I find odd.

  Exhaling a false breath, Cloud breaks the silence by saying, “The left side of the state has been evacuated. Humans are retreating. The US Government is preparing—” There’s a pause as he chooses his words carefully. “—drastic measures to combat the Horsemen.”

  “Why not just leave them in the barricades?” Billy says with a shrug of his brightly-colored shoulders.

  “An enemy contained is not an enemy defeated. Containment may lead to escape. Other nations are preparing—some for Armageddon, others for war.” His cold, icy blue eyes land on me as he adds, “We are past the point of no return, I fear.”

  An uneasy, sick feeling sweeps through me. I’ve seen a lot of movies where drastic measures mean big, radioactive things.

  “If there is anything you want above ground, I suggest going out tonight. For the ones with Sapes, grab as much food as you can. There is no telling how long this will last.”

  Darren is beside me, hooking his thumb through his spikey belt. “Do you think we’ll be safe down here?”

  “I would not bet on it,” Cloud’s answer startles the group, “but I hope we are.”

  With a wave of his hand, the Vampires shuffle out of the room. Darren squeezes my arm gently, as if he’s worried about what’s happening up top. These Vampires act like they do care, which amazes me. I never thought the undead horde of blood-sucking fiends could care about anything. David always went on and on about how horrible Vampires were, but these guys don’t seem bad. In fact, with each passing minute, they seem more Human to me.

  Cloud studies me. “The same goes for you, little Lexa. If there are any sentimental objects you want, retrieving them tonight would be wise.”

  “My only portaller is injured and recouping from torture, and my owner is missing in action.” I glance to the floor, thinking of my cat. Poor Xena. I hope she made it out of town, miles away. I hope she’s still alive out there, somewhere. “I’ll have to settle for staying here. What about you? Is there anything out there you want?”

  “The things that I want,” he replies, flashing me his sharp, intimidating fangs, “are the things I can no longer have.” Cloud smiles, mostly to himself, for a moment. “The curse of immortality.” His legs are spread, knees apart, as they usually are when he sits. He holds a pale hand beneath his chin, pondering. “Be glad your curse is different.”

  I hold in a laugh. “Right. Because being owned by the Devil is so much better.” Crossing my arms, I lean on a column, hating my draw of bad luck. I was born unlucky; conceived unfortunate.

  “How much do you know of Jesus Christ?”

  The look that I give him is all he needs to know.

  “I’m sure many of the stories are fictitious and exaggerated, but Jesus of Nazareth was a real man. He welcomed everyone to his table—sinners and saints. Prostitutes, lepers, murderers.” His eyes twinkle with the faint spark of life. “Tell me, if Lucifer repented—truly repented—do you think God would forgive him?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, because A) I don’t know, and B) I’m not sure if I even believe in this stuff.

  Cloud stands, beside me in an instant. “If there is somewhere you wish to go before your old life is taken off the map, I can take you. I may not be able to portal, but I am a very fast man.”

  I squint at him. “So, what? I’m supposed to just hold onto you all Bella and Edward style?” Is Edward even the Vamp’s name? I don’t know. Never saw the movies nor read the books. Romanticizing Vampires is not my thing, even if they’re more like us than I realized.

  He does not address my remark; he probably doesn’t even know what it means. Instead, he says, “Darren and Billy will keep an eye on Mike. Your people will be safe.”

  The grapevine travels fast in this joint.

  “When do we leave?” I question.

  Cloud glances toward the ceiling. “There’s an hour until sundown. Perhaps you would like to shower in that time?” He gives me a forlorn half-smile. “I will meet you near your room when it’s time.” He starts to walk away when it hits me.

  Is
he saying I smell?

  I give my armpits a little sniff.

  Yep. I do. Both pits.

  And if it smells bad to me, I bet it’s worse for Vampires, with their heightened senses. How embarrassing. To the showers it is.

  Chapter Eight

  Keep your eyes closed.

  I, being me, don’t keep my eyes closed on the mad run to my apartment. And I, being the stupid one, immediately get a bad case of vertigo as I let go of Cloud and stumble forward, knocking into counters and tables I don’t even remember having. My vision blurs, and I mutter a single, slurred word: “Toilet.” My legs are swept off the floor, and suddenly I’m in front of the porcelain toilet, falling much like an inebriated college girl and retching up whatever sparse food is in my stomach.

  My hand fumbles to flush, and I wipe my mouth, leaning back. My eyes remain shut. I’m afraid that if I open them, the room will spin and frankly, I can’t handle that.

  “Where is your cat?” Cloud asks, sounding quite innocent in the process. “I love cats.”

  The nausea is unhurried in fading, and I barely move my mouth as I say, “Gone. The little fur ball ran away.” The Vampire’s presence in the doorway chills the air, providing a temporary relief to the motion sickness.

  He seems sincere as he whispers, “I’m sorry to hear that.” I can imagine the unimpressed expression on his face, how his sharp features twist into a slight frown. “You should have listened to me, little Lexa, and kept your eyes closed.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, “you were right. Happy? I’m sure it’s not the first time in your life that you’ve been right.” Slowly, I grip the wall as I stand, wavering on my feet. “That was a heck of a ride, though. Every Human should have their own Vampire steed—” My joke stops when he sends me a disproving look. “—a joke, Sir Cloud. I’m sure you’ve heard one before.”

  “Yes, and they were all funnier than that particular one.”

  Ouch. The fanged Vamp strikes again. Remind me not to invite him to my birthday party.

  I go to my room, grab a fraying backpack, and stuff a few things inside. Some of this, some of that. Out of everything in my apartment, I realize, I haven’t got too much. It’s a nice space, a big area full of furniture, but I don’t have a lot of stuff that I’d label as necessary or sentimental.

  I do, however, find Xena’s favorite mouse and decide to bring it. I miss my kitty. But like everything and everyone else I lost, I can’t stop to cry about it, no matter how badly I want to.

  I exit my bedroom, finding Cloud in the living room. The television remote sits in his hands, and he flips from channel to channel. Each channel displays either a blank screen, or an emergency broadcast, coupled with the same repeating message. Mandatory evacuations for the state. Basically, get as far away as you can.

  When the government doesn’t understand something, they crush it.

  Or, in this case, they’ll try to.

  I peek out of the window, gazing at the street. Empty. “I hope everyone got out,” I say. Something doesn’t sit right with me, though, because the streets seemed empty for days upon days before the mandatory evacuation. Did everyone leave beforehand, or is everyone playing the part of stubborn old people who refuse to evacuate their ocean-front homes, even in the face of a hurricane?

  “Humans and supernaturals alike will die,” Cloud tells me, his voice serious. “There is nothing anyone can do to avoid it.”

  I’m about to say something along the lines of how cheery when the night air splits, something breaking through the air at high speed. “What in the world…” Before I can close my eyes, I feel Cloud grab me, and we’re outside, miles away within seconds, staring at the near horizon, where my college is. Or was.

  A mushroom cloud of smoke and ash lifts from the ground, curling in an ugly pillow of pure destructive power and lighting the sky in an unearthly, unnatural hue reminiscent of the desert’s plain, yellow-tan colors.

  I’m too dizzy, too nauseas, to fully comprehend what I’m witnessing.

  “Damn,” Cloud whispers, jerking my legs tighter around him. “I thought we had more time.” His blonde head turns toward me as he adds, “Keep them closed this time.”

  And then we’re back in the Vampire sanctuary, surrounded by walls of concrete.

  Cloud lets me down, and I nearly collapse. “Are we safe here? Can the bombs hurt us?”

  He shakes his head. “We are safe unless they decide to decimate the entire state.” Cloud closes his eyes, sighing. His pale face, strained to the point of wrinkles—something I never thought a Vampire could get—is sadder than I’ve ever see it. “I never imagined it would happen like this.” He looks to me. “I knew something wasn’t right. We all did. Something instinctual, perhaps. Supernatural instincts.” His shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I never thought I’d live to see the end of the world.” His tall frame saunters to his throne, and he sits, rubbing his face. “I’m far too old for this.”

  Hoisting my backpack higher, I shake off the remnants of motion sickness. I ask, “How old are you?” I don’t know why I asked; just curious, I guess.

  “Older than the Founding Fathers,” he says. “Older than you think.” Cloud smiles faintly. “And a hell of a lot older than I look. How old are you, twelve?” he makes a jab at me, lighthearted. I think he wants to forget what we saw, and I’m more than happy to go along with it.

  I make an overly dramatic gesture to myself. “As if a twelve-year-old can have this body.” I might have a chubby baby face, but the rest of me is all woman. Well, mostly woman. Seventy-five perfect woman and twenty-five percent Mark.

  Cloud laughs, in spite of his stone-cold face. “You are certainly…unique.” When I smile, he adds, “Uniqueness is not always a good trait, however.”

  “You’re full of flowers and warm thoughts, aren’t you?”

  “Little Lexa,” he speaks my name, and though he’s quite dead, the blue in his eyes dance. “Flowers seem to die when I touch them.” He rolls his ankles, strumming his fingers along the armrests. “And I haven’t known any type of warmth in a very long time.”

  I stare at him for a few moments, wondering what he means by that, how I’m supposed to take it, and I quickly decide I don’t care. Because I don’t. “On that note, uh,” I say, stepping toward the door. “I’m going to go.” And then I walk away as fast as I can.

  That was…weird, right?

  I find David sitting with Deb in a common area. Both have changed into clothes the Vampires and Sapes provided. I want to throw a bonfire and burn the purification garments, but like many things, bonfires are a thing of the past.

  My mom and Josefina are playing with her ever-growing collection of Barbies. I saw Mike sitting by himself in the guys’ room, Darren and Billy hovering like ghosts. The man probably feels awkward and ashamed—and he should. He should be thankful; I didn’t have to save him in that horror-movie place.

  Sitting in the chair opposite them, I dig through my backpack. It doesn’t even register to me that their legs are touching, that they’re sitting awfully close to each other. Whatever they talked about before is hushed when I say, “Hate to break it to you, but your shop’s probably gone. So is Lakeview, and my university. The President must love big, red buttons.”

  David blinks. “Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me this is one of your not-so-good jokes.”

  I give him a mean look. “All of my jokes are good.”

  Beside him, Deb makes a noise that sounds as if she doubts that.

  The glare turns to Deb as I say, “And no, I’m not kidding. Say goodbye to your livelihood.” After a minute of digging through the mess I brought in the bag, I retrieve a few small vials. After my first knife incident, my parents asked David to whip up some unconventional remedies to help speed up my healing, since they couldn’t take me to a hospital. I hardly ever used it.

  I give him the three vials. “For your ears,” I quickly add when David lifts the vial holding some kind of leafy green substance
and shakes it (probably because it isn’t so leafy or green anymore). “Might be a little old, but they should work, right?” The other vials house an amber-colored liquid and newt eyes.

  David says, “Better than nothing, I suppose.” Something clicks in his brain, and he surveys the area around us. “How’d you get there? Is he back?”

  “No. Cloud took me.”

  My friend hands Deb the vials, saying softly, “Can you take these to the kitchen? Pour them all into a bowl and mash it into a paste?” When she nods and gets up, also getting the hint to get out, he adds, “The less clumpy, the better.”

  Deb merely sighs as she goes.

  I note David’s rigid posture, the way his eyes stare holes through me. “If you’re going to scold me, don’t.”

  “We’re past that point, because it’s clear you don’t listen,” he says in a hissed whisper. “You’re more than happy to run off with the cute Vampire leader—”

  I hold up a finger. “I never said he was cute—and so what if he is? I’m not some dumb girl in a teenage chick flick. I’m well aware that looks are not everything, and that beneath his exterior are hordes of parasites keeping him animated and hungry. I know all that, David.” I recall the first moment I met Cloud, how he frightened me. His features, so sharp and cruel, froze me. I compared him to a frat boy and Mike to a lumberjack who’d make a good boyfriend, even if he is older.

  Boy, was I wrong or what? First impressions are usually wrong.

  “They might seem nice now, but once things start to get tough down here, their Sapes,” he practically spits out the word, “will be the first to go. Then they’ll start picking off each other. Vampire nests do not last long because each is out for his or her own. Solitary hunters. When things turn to shit, they’ll turn on you. They always do.” A tone of bitterness resides in his voice, and in all my life, when he’s spoken of Vampires, I never noticed it. “I know you’ve had to rely on them a bit, but that needs to stop.”