by Dara Kent
A raw tension swept through the room, holding the three of us hostage for a few moments until I decided I’d had enough. Clearing my throat, I half rolled, half tumbled off the couch, lurching to my feet. “I’m going home and going to bed. We can talk about all of this later.”
Lily trailed along behind me, her silence unnerving. Even Jensen didn’t protest my hasty retreat.
Well, I definitely should take advantage of the calm while I can. It never lasts long, and my gut says shit is about to hit the fan.
Once I got to my room and I was cocooned within my bed, I fell asleep almost instantly.
6
“Riss.” Monica captured me in an engulfing hug, nearly suffocating me. “Lily and Jensen are already inside. I thought for a minute you didn’t come.”
Pulling away from her, I nibbled my bottom lip. “I … umm …” Turning my attention to the front of the Cathedral of the Incarnation, I shifted from foot to foot while Monica waited for a reply. She wore a muted cream suit cut to hug her curves, offsetting her flawless, dark brown skin tone. Her dreads, which were normally worn down and free, were pulled away from her face in a subdued look. All she was missing was wings to complete the vibe. Heaven marked indeed.
“How— I mean …” Swallowing, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my own pantsuit, mine black. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Monica smiled warmly, the edges of her lips slightly wilting with the effort. “He’s not truly gone. You know that.”
A deluge of questions hung on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back, nodding instead. “Even still. It must be … difficult.”
“Yes, it is. But I’m thankful for the time we shared, and one day we’ll meet again.”
She assumes he got into Heaven, and that she will, too. How nice it must be to be so certain about such things. Shoving the bitter edge to my thoughts aside, I gave her a wan smile which was the best I could muster. “I guess I’m not as good with this kind of stuff as you are.”
She took my hand in hers and squeezed. “No one is good with death. Not really. But I have faith, and that faith will get me through.”
I liked Monica, considered her a friend, but sometimes I wanted to sprint in the opposite direction when she started spouting such platitudes as if she was creating some kind of cognitive dissonance within me. She was even more of an optimist than Lily and my mom combined, which was a lot to handle for a pessimist like myself.
“Right, faith.” Just as she went to turn away, I pulled on her arm, and she raised her eyebrows in question. “Do you feel God?”
I often wondered if the Heaven-marked hunters had some kind of intrinsic sense of a higher power I didn’t since I was also marked by Hell. It would definitely make the faith thing a whole lot easier if that was the case.
Monica regarded me with sympathy and an edge of annoyance. “How many times are you going to ask me that?”
It was true, it wasn’t the first time I broached the subject with her, my curiosity insuppressible. But she never gave me anything concrete, just a bunch of cryptic bullshit. I figured if she was ever going to give me a straight answer it would be now.
I smiled ruefully. “At least once more.”
“Come on, the service is about to start.” She tugged me up the stairs and into the ornate cathedral, the finer details of my surroundings instantly blurring into the background. I couldn’t help but finger the mask I had stuffed in my pocket, the urge to put it on as a shield both physically and emotionally difficult to resist. Somehow, I managed.
Spotting the back of Lily’s blonde head in the first pew on the right, I groaned. She had to sit in the front, didn’t she? But then again it wasn’t like Tomas had packed the place, so hiding in the back wasn’t a legitimate option.
A wave of sadness crashed over me as my gaze fell on the closed coffin sitting up on the dais. Inside the polished mahogany box was all that was left of my friend—an empty shell. He died, but did he ever truly get to live life for himself? Sure, he had Monica and a handful of friends, but how would his life have been different if he’d had an actual choice?
Monica dropped my hand, continuing on to meet with the priest who hovered just beyond the coffin, the two of them beginning a hushed conversation. Sliding into the pew next to Lily, I pretended not to notice Jensen on the other side of her. Instead, I turned my attention to the picture of Tomas sitting front and center on a small table adorned with flowers. He seemed happy in it, the grin on his face crinkling the corners of his green eyes. His long, dark hair was windswept, a few strands stuck within the stubble on his chiseled jaw, the faintest tan lines from sunglasses visible. The background was out of focus, but the colors hinted at an outdoor scene, which fit with the rest.
Wringing my hands in my lap, I kept staring at the image of the dead hunter—Tomas—my friend, my gaze tracing every inch of his face over and over. Was he finally at peace? Or was he beginning a new battle, another he would eventually lose?
This is a joke. All of it. Tomas was the best of the twice marked and what did it get him? His life cut short because that’s what happens to all of us, isn’t it? I didn’t know of any old, twice-marked hunters because they didn’t exist. We all died young and horribly. I was witnessing my future. And it could come at any moment. For me, and for Lily.
My heart set off at a gallop, tapping erratically across my ribcage. I should have been prepared for something like this. After all, Tomas was a hunter. But I wasn’t. Or rather, I was relying on denial of our situation far too much lately. It was exactly why I couldn’t afford to continue any kind of romantic relationship with Jensen. Even though he was a warlock and existed in the supernatural world, my world still wasn’t his and he didn’t deserve to have to worry about putting me in the ground, my life cut short in the same manner as Tomas. The existence of a warlock wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but those with power generally lived to a ripe old age, most of them having large families to pass on the best magical genetics. I probably wasn’t going to be around long enough to even have that discussion with him. We were ill-fated, and it was time we both accepted the truth of our situation.
Lily scooted closer to me, her shoulder bumping mine as she threaded our fingers. Turning, I glanced down into her wide, blue eyes, the raw vulnerability in them causing my stomach to twist. In that moment, she was a little girl again leaning on her big sister for support. I squeezed her hand. My fears would be hers as well, which meant my strength would be, too. I needed to stand tall for her, as always, even if I was crumbling inside. Lily depended on me, and I refused to let her down. Perhaps God didn’t exist, and we were all fighting a losing battle, but for now, none of that mattered. Knowing the truth, and getting answers, wouldn’t change the here and now. All I could do was my best with the cards I’d been dealt, regardless of how shitty they were.
Steeling my nerves, I shoved every bit of emotion deep down into the bottomless pit held in the recesses of my psyche. Calm settled over me, and I sat up straighter, my chin notching up. Lily immediately sagged a bit as if she sensed the change, my resolve settling her nerves.
I’ll get us through this, just like I always do.
Lingering about a half dozen steps from the front door of the small pub my friends were in, I pulled out my mask and studied it. Pestilence was gone, and along with him the virus. Humans thought it had run its course, but we hunters knew differently. Sure, vaccines helped clean up the remnants, but even the best scientists wouldn’t have found the correct concoction to ward off a sickness that kept mutating due to demon interference.
Continuing to wear a mask had become a security blanket, a small comfort, a way to feel like I was doing something to protect myself. It was simply another way, even if irrational, to guard myself. But it was useless. The real danger threatening me was the same as what had taken Tomas from this mortal coil. No mask could protect me from my fate.
Marching to the trash can on the corner with determination, I tossed the leopard-print piec
e of useless cloth inside, kicking the bin lightly with the edge of my boot.
“Dramatic, aren’t we?”
I whipped my head up at the sudden intrusion, spotting an unfamiliar man leaning against the wall a few feet away. The guy was tall and lanky with short, dirty blond hair. Dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved, faded band T-shirt hung loosely on his frame. A small smirk adorned his angular face.
“Do I know you?” I demanded, nostrils flaring.
He drummed his hand rhythmically along the bricks behind him. “Nope, but I know you.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “You knew Tomas then?”
“In a sense. I tried talking those demons out of killing him … because, you know, what good was he going to do anyone dead? But you know demons.” He shrugged.
I’d gone immobile, my muscles twitching with the effort. “What do you want?”
He sucked his teeth and tilted his head. “Lots of things. But mainly I want to not burn in Hell for all eternity.”
“Hell marked,” I spat. Twice marked and Heaven marked often intermingled, their goals overlapping, but Hell marked were a crapshoot. Some strove to live the best lives they could, hoping to become twice marked or to stumble upon any opportunity for redemption. Others lived their lives with resignation and a bit of quiet desperation. And ones like the guy standing in front of me opted to go for the ‘sucking up to Lucifer’ option by way of helping demons.
The guy raised his hands, smiling. “You got me.” He shoved off the wall, causing me to take a step back, readying myself for a fight. “Whoa, calm down. I’m just here to talk. This time.”
“Gee, well, now I completely trust you.”
“I’ll say what I have to say and then I’ll be on my way.” He chuckled. “Hey, I rhymed, how about that?”
I glared, angling my body down so I would have faster access to the blades I had hidden in my boots. “Spit it out already, and maybe I’ll let you walk out of here without a limp.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Oh, you’re mad about Tomas, huh? Not sure why though. We all know he was Heaven bound. He’s probably playing his little harp up on a cloud watching us as we speak.”
“We don’t know any such thing. Time is the twice-marked hunter’s friend, and you let demons steal it from Tomas.”
“Tomas had more kills than any other twice marked. Even us Hell marked have heard of him. If he didn’t make it into the pearly gates, then none of you have a shot.”
Don’t I know it. “Like I said, spit it out already. I’m not much in the mood for small talk, especially with someone like you.” I wouldn’t kill him unprovoked, only because I didn’t know if it would be held against me when I died.
“You’re no fun, but I didn’t expect you to be.” He moved one step closer, and I took another back in tandem. “I wanted to make you an offer to join us.”
Laughter exploded from my gut and erupted up my throat as I doubled over. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Listen to what I have to say before you laugh.” He came closer and dropped his voice. “Pestilence is dead.” He swiped his hand through the air. “And before you say anything, I do mean dead. It’s not supposed to be possible, I know,” he rushed on, “but someone did it. They killed him, not just banished him back to Hell. And with his death, everything changed.”
“Not exactly everything. Maybe if I could figure out how to kill demons as powerful as the Fab Four and not just banish them, I’d earn a few extra points. But in the end, I’m still twice marked.”
“Don’t you get it? If there’s a way to kill demons of that power level, then we could kill Lucifer himself.”
“Lucifer is an anomaly, one of a kind, and nothing like Pestilence and his brothers. This whole thing is ridiculous.”
“If we all join forces and find the way to take out Lucifer, the one who marked us for Hell, then we’d be free."
I rolled my eyes and pivoted on my heel, heading toward the front door of the pub.
“Wait.” He grabbed my arm, and I stomped on the instep of his foot before connecting the back of my fist with his nose.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled.
Blood spurted from his nostrils, and he wiped some of it away with the edge of his sleeve. “Think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about. Now leave me alone. If I see you again, you might not walk away with only a bloody nose.” I paused, glancing over my shoulder. “Who killed Pestilence? If I actually believe what you say is true.”
“Tomas knew.” He shook his head. “But those damn demons killed him before he could talk.”
My left eye twitched. The truth of why Tomas was tortured and killed was surprising, but it changed nothing. Twice-marked hunters were forced to risk their lives in a battle not of our choosing. Death by demon was inevitable, no matter the reason. “Tomas would never risk a fellow hunter by giving up a name for any reason.”
“The hunter who killed Pestilence must have found some kind of weapon, maybe a spell or a blessed object.” He narrowed his eyes as if he was considering me as the possible culprit. “We want it, and with or without your help we’ll track down the hunter who has it. It would be easier if we cooperated though. After all, we do all want Lucifer dead.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, yanking the door to the pub open. Blaring music swallowed me whole as I made my way to the bar where Lily, Monica, Jensen, and a host of other familiar faces mingled.
But even as I prepared to celebrate the life of Tomas into the wee hours of the morning with my friends and family, I couldn’t help but wonder if what the Hell marked had told me was true. Had the game changed? Was Tomas keeping secrets? And if so, did they truly die with him?
No, the Hell marked was just trying to start trouble before Tomas’ death celebration slash wake. I won’t let him win.
Donning a brittle smile, I took an offered beer from my sister and forced my mind to happier times with Tomas, listening as Monica shared an embarrassing story about him.
“And I kid you not, he ran out of the house completely naked with nothing but a katana and a …”
It didn’t take long for her words to fade into the background, my thoughts consumed despite my best efforts. But what if … what if what the Hell marked said is true? What does it mean exactly?
7
Forgive. Forgive and forget myself for a little while. Lose myself in passion. Feel something other than anger, fear, and regret. It would be so easy.
Under the influence of beer and tequila, the mix churning heavily in my stomach, my thoughts crystallized with the kind of clarity that only came when I was just shy of completely trashed. In that in between place, where I was too exhausted to overanalyze, my neuroses took a break, leaving me blissfully free to simply exist.
Look at him. Why am I wasting what little time I probably have left pushing him away? He loves me and I love him. Is he controlling, or am I?
Chin propped on my hand, I stared into Jensen’s baby blues, their churning depths having fully ensnared my attention. It was as if he could see into my soul, which normally was unnerving, but at the moment it was oddly comforting. In a world where I kept most people at arm’s length, even my family and those who I considered friends didn’t know me all that well. They knew surface-level things, like what I liked to do for fun, what I watched on TV, what I did for a living … basically what you’d see on a dating profile, or social media, or maybe even a resume. I envied the deep connections others seemed to always form around me, those bonds never quite touching me. But I wasn’t wired that way. I didn’t trust easily, even before becoming twice marked. If I had to guess why, it was because of my father, the narcissist, who thankfully wasn’t in our lives anymore. Of course, I was no psychologist, and I could have simply been born paranoid.
And yet … I’d let Jensen fully in. He knew parts of me that I would never share with anyone else. My dark thoughts, my anxieties—my true self. I regretted sharing every vuln
erable moment with him most of the time, and others I yearned to revel in it. To crawl under his skin and merge completely with him. To lose myself forever inside of his soul. Those feelings, both kind of creepy and overwhelming, terrified the shit out of me and sent me running for the hills. I wasn’t capable of handling—
“You’ve got a weird look on your face,” Jensen rumbled, his voice pitched low and for my ears only. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip and then smiled. “Makes me want to get you somewhere alone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clearing my throat, I took another swig of my lager. “Why are you here anyways? You’re not one of us.”
Jensen leaned forward, his nose scant inches from mine. “I’m here for you. Just like I always am. The rest doesn’t matter.”
I grunted, hating how he made sense at the moment. “Maybe warlocks shouldn’t mix with the twice marked and Heaven marked. You at least stand a chance of living to a ripe old age.”
His rough fingers smoothed an errant piece of hair away from my cheek, eliciting a shiver of delight. “I’d rather take what I can get with you.”
My heart clenched like a fist in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I knew we were still in the pub with everyone else, but they had all ceased to exist a while ago. Two shots and a beer ago to be exact. “Jensen, please.” Please, what? I simultaneously wanted to grab onto him and never let him go, and to run away as fast as humanly possible. Damn tequila. I’ll never learn.
“You could have any woman you want at the snap of your fingers. Why don’t you get the hint that I want you and your tracking spells to leave me alone?” My words said one thing, but my body language said another as I leaned closer, caught in the crushing gravitational pull of everything Jensen.
Startling me, he snapped his fingers right in front of my nose. “If I could have any woman, then we’d be alone right now with your legs wrapped around—”
