Bloodmark

by Aurora Whittet

  A thin man stared back at me, not even trying to conceal his gaze. His greasy, long black hair draped over his shoulders in a slight wave, and he wore a black top hat. He had a large gray wolf’s hide draped over his grimy T-shirt, the wolf’s lifeless head lying limp to one side. The wolf had been so large that his tail dragged on the ground behind the frightening man. He watched me without subtlety. He walked toward me, emitting a low growl as he grew nearer. I subconsciously took a step backward, but he followed, filling the space between us once again. His rough, scarred hands reached up and touched my hair, rubbing it between his forefingers. He pulled out a knife, cut a lock of my hair, and smelled the scent.

  His mouth opened wide in a sickly smile. I flinched away from the creature. I didn’t want to watch as he killed me and added my skin to his coat. I breathed in deeply, trying to clear my mind. Suddenly, his scent was overpowered by Eamon’s, and I dared to open my eyes.

  Eamon stood between us. I was oddly comforted by his presence. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t know where to go. Finally, the stranger looked down and walked away, a sign of resignation. There was something horrible about the stranger; it was clear he wanted something with me. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Eamon had won, but I was certain it wasn’t the end of that wordless discussion. Something told me I would be the prize for the benefactor. The spoils of a man’s war. Eamon walked down the street, and this time I didn’t linger. I felt the stranger watch us as we left, but I didn’t dare look back. I was too afraid to see his sickening face again.

  We turned the corner to an area where the buildings looked in more repair. Not nice, but cleaner somehow. We stopped at a two-story hut that had dried lavender on the door. We didn’t knock; we just stood there waiting. For all I knew, we were waiting for the world to open up and swallow us whole. So many unbelievable things had happened, I was almost numb to the surreal nature of my surroundings.

  Without a sound, a small, ghostly woman opened the door and stood before us. She had almost pure-white skin and snow-white, pixie-short hair. There was almost no pigmentation to her at all, except her large, dark eyes. Her irises were so dark, it gave the appearance that she didn’t have them at all—like two giant pupils looking back at us. Even her eyelashes were white. She was nothing like the place that surrounded her. She looked pure. Her white gown flowed to the floor, creating a puddle of fabric around her. Eamon bowed to her, and she nodded in return, motioning for us to follow her inside.

  It smelled of lavender and mint inside, and everything was glazed in white, from the wooden chairs to the rugs on the floor. Even the wallpaper was white damask. The only color in the entire house was dried lavender above the hearth in the living room. She stood watching us.

  “Lady Faye,” Eamon said, bowing.

  “Why do you stand before me today, Eamon?” she asked.

  The glow from the fire made her look more alive. The flames danced on her skin, making it look warm, though her expression didn’t soften. There was something very old behind her perfectly smooth skin. I wondered if she were one of the Elder Gods, like Mother Rhea. Most of the others were nothing more than myth and song now, but I felt a kinship with her.

  “I come to you seeking a cloak for this woman.”

  She turned her now-stunned gaze to me. “A mere child,” she said.

  Eamon nodded his head but didn’t reply any further. My clothes were torn and covered in my own blood, and despite my best efforts to look strong, I knew I appeared weak. She circled around me like a predator circles its prey, stopping directly in front of me. I averted my eyes, too frightened to look at her. She leaned forward, curving her head around mine, and breathed in my scent.

  “The only daughter of King Pørr and Queen Nessa Boru,” she said. I looked up at her, astonished. She knew me without my name, without my father’s Bloodmark, though I was certain I had never met her. “What happened to you, child?”

  I glanced at Eamon while weighing my options. I didn’t know what side she was on, nor what Eamon’s anger could look like.

  “I fell down.”

  She looked at me, yet I was sure she was seeing inside me. “Your heart is pure,” she said, smelling me again. “His love surrounds you still.”

  “Grey?” I blurted.

  “His soul is searching for yours, but he can’t see you,” she said. “The silver poison is still in your veins.”

  I could only stare at this beautiful creature before me. She held more magic than I had ever imagined existed in the whole of the world. When the silver poison finally left my body, would Grey’s soul haunt mine? She held her soft hand palm-up above her shoulder, as were the old ways, awaiting mine. I placed my hand in hers, palm to palm, and she led me behind a white curtain into an empty chamber. There were white-framed mirrors all around us, each frame different. She let go of my hand at the center of the room, and I stopped moving. It was easy to see what she wanted me to do. She walked to a mirror framed in white fire at the far side of the room and reached her arm inside, through the glass. It seemed to pool and ripple around her arm as she pulled out a warm, brown drape of fabric.

  It hung across her forearm as she began to remove the clip from my sweater. She studied the bronze pin in her hand. I knew by her glance that she knew who gave it to me. She pinned it to her gown. I slid the sweater off and let it fall to the floor as well as my now-torn shirt. She touched my necklace, running her fingers over the delicate metal, and she smiled. What secret she found there, I didn’t know. I quickly slipped off my tattered jeans as she slipped the fabric over my head. As it fell to the floor, it braided and twisted itself into a dress around my body at her whim, forming around my every curve. I looked at myself in the mirror, expecting to see my wild-haired self. Instead I saw someone who looked like a goddess . . . but she had my face.

  The gown dipped to the end of my sternum between my breasts, exposing my cleavage. It had a braided fabric belt low around my waist that created a train down the back. A large hood hung behind me, covering the racer-back style of the garment. She pinned the bronze clip to my hip, returning it to me without a word.

  “Unclaimed child, know that you are the dream.”

  She turned away from me before I could question her, and she raised her hand again and led me back to Eamon. He was pacing back and forth until he saw us enter. His mouth fell open as he studied me in my new gown. He gently placed my hood over my face. It covered my eyes and nose; even my wild red hair was contained in its shroud. Only my mouth remained visible.

  This wasn’t subtle. Even in this world I would be noticed, much less flying on an airplane with humans all around us.

  “My lady,” he said to me with a nod. He bowed to Lady Faye, and I followed him back out onto the dirty underground streets. It was easy to forget where we were, inside her clean, white sanctuary. We were once again in the bleak Netherworlds. I glanced back over my shoulder, but her door was already closed.

  The way she touched my necklace must have meant something to her. Could she have known it was Brenna’s? Or that Grey had given it to me? Oh, Grey. I missed him with every fiber of my being. I wished for a chance to just sit down and cry instead of being dragged all over North America as a hostage. I needed to mourn for my love. With every step I took, I felt as though I were dying.

  I wondered if Mund had found me missing yet. Would he try to find me? Would he find Grey’s lifeless body? That realization shook me, and I gasped for air. Eamon looked at me quizzically but didn’t inquire. Instead he offered me his arm as he led me back the way we came. We passed all the sad little wooden shacks and the variety of werewolves who hung out near them, but they didn’t pay attention as we walked down the street. I heard children playing nearby, their small laughs echoing off the earthen walls. I felt like a ritual sacrifice being paraded down the streets . . . which might not have been far from the truth. The stale air was filled with the filthy scent of the squalor.


  I saw the mummified human-form bodies of werewolf warriors displayed for each pack. Their eyes were replaced with black glass, and their skin was leathery. It was a sign of strength to worship their dead. Eamon nodded to one of the mummies as we passed by. I found myself wondering more about him. Who was Eamon without Adomnan? Was he a brutal killer too? Or was he a gentle soul? It was hard to see him beyond his family’s stain. We were all viewed as a total sum of our pack, not its parts. But each individual part was like a single snowflake, exquisitely different from the one before.

  “Whose body was that?” I said, my curiosity getting the best of me.

  He looked at me, startled to hear my voice. “The great warrior Tizheruk of the once-great Inuit pack.”

  “Where are his sons?”

  “Dead.”

  “All of his pack?”

  “Adomnan doesn’t leave survivors.”

  I didn’t ask any more questions. I blindly followed Eamon; I didn’t care where he took me. There was nothing left of me to punish; the part of me who cared what happened was gone. All that remained was this empty shell of who I once was. I caught the scent of the greasy stranger as we neared the ladder, and my heart pounded with fear. I peeked past the hood to see he stood between us and the way out of this underground tomb. I was afraid of him, but I didn’t know why. I involuntarily took a step backward. Eamon looked at me, and his eyes filled with anger. I was stunned by his sudden distaste for me. He growled at the stranger. I could feel its vibration in my bare feet on the dirt floor.

  “You have no business with us,” Eamon said.

  “I have business with this lady,” he said; he didn’t look up as he answered. He just continued wiping his knife with a torn piece of leather. Over and over again. Methodically following the edge of the blade.

  Eamon growled a terrifying sound. He pushed my body farther behind his, shielding me from the stranger who looked up, watching us both. I wanted to run away, back to Lady Faye, but my feet were frozen in the dirt. The stranger took a step toward us, filling half the gap. Eamon prepared for the fight, and the stranger threw his dagger into the ground at Eamon’s feet. Still Eamon didn’t react.

  “I know who you are,” he said to me.

  I peeked around Eamon’s shoulder, watching the stranger as he paced forward. The lifeless creature on his shoulder told a strong warning as to what fate might await us. I wasn’t sure who was stronger between them, but I didn’t want to find out.

  “If you have any sense to you, wolf, you’ll leave the lady be,” Eamon said.

  The stranger laughed as he moved only a few inches from Eamon, who was the only barrier between me and the disgusting man. I could smell the grease that covered him, but it covered his true scent. The two growled, but neither showed any fear. Before it could escalate, Adomnan’s large figure dropped down the hole. When he stood to his full height, he towered over both Eamon and the stranger.

  I wasn’t sure if I were relieved to see Adomnan or not. Watching male wolves fight was like watching the dance of devils. Adomnan crouched down, as ready to attack the stranger as Eamon was. They both arched their bodies at him, ready for the kill. There was no question in my mind that Adomnan intended to kill the wolf without a single spoken word between them.

  Panic rippled through me, and I cringed away from them. I just wanted to be home on the cliffs with Mother or back in my bed at Baran’s house with Grey’s warmth surrounding me. I wanted to be away from this violence. I covered my ears with my hands, desperately trying to block out their growls.

  The lights above started to pop and explode, raining shards of glass down on us like glitter. The entire city was dark in a matter of moments. I felt a hand touch my arm lightly as the stranger leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “They cannot take what is not rightfully given.” Was he trying to protect me?

  And with that, he was gone into the darkened streets, leaving the three of us lost in the dark. I shivered from anxiety. Reserve lighting kicked in, spotlighting every one hundred yards. I quickly stood over the blade the stranger had thrown into the dirt, hiding it in the fabric of my gown. I didn’t know what the stranger truly wanted, but I didn’t want Adomnan to find the dagger, either. A lot could be told about someone by his things, and I strangely felt the need to protect everyone from Adomnan. Even though I couldn’t protect myself.

  “Quickly,” Adomnan said. “We have lingered here with her too long. We have not gone unnoticed.”

  Eamon looked back at me, and I followed them to the ladder. As I put my foot on the lowest rung, I glanced back at the dagger. The stranger was now crouched by it, his hand gripping it tightly as he pulled it from the earth. He dashed off and ran between the houses.

  Bento met us outside, and he looked twitchy. Something had spooked him and Adomnan, though I didn’t think it was only the presence of the greasy man. Something was coming. I could feel it on the unnatural wind. My hair stood on end, a warning. Something was coming—or someone.

  22

  Darkness

  “Take her to the airport. I will meet you on the plane,” Adomnan said, looking back to the south as the wind whipped us.

  My arms were bare to the rough wind, though I didn’t feel the cold. Without a word, Eamon held my hand, and he started running inland with Bento flanking him. Miraculously, I was able to run in my dress, though I was certain Eamon kept a slower pace for my sake. He was much kinder than Adomnan, but really, that wasn’t saying much.

  Eamon’s hands were noticeably softer than Grey’s. A life of royalty verses that of real men like Grey. Grey had been rugged. Eamon was refined and proper and respectful. He was still Adomnan’s brother, but I did feel safer with Eamon than any of my other options, so I just followed along and tried to keep up. And what chance did I have as a mortal? The effects of the silver from Robert’s blade wouldn’t wear off for a couple of days, and I wouldn’t be able to shift until then. If I couldn’t shift to heal my wounds, it would be harder to survive.

  Did Grey’s heart still beat? Did mine? Were we even able to live and breathe without the other? Or did I die in the woods? If this were all just a nightmare, why could I not wake? A pain that couldn’t heal deep in my chest reminded me I still breathed. I was completely and forever bound to Grey, even after death. Nothing changed the fact that I was still his. His father’s body was cold and dead, strewn about in the snow where my body should have been; but I died in that moment too.

  We arrived at the edge of the Natashquan airport, and a small aircraft waited on the runway. We approached the pilot slowly, and Eamon didn’t release my hand, though we both knew I wouldn’t bother running. The pilot eyed us for a moment before speaking to Bento.

  “Are we still waiting for one more?” he said in a thick French-Canadian accent.

  Bento nodded.

  “I’d like to get the lady out of the elements,” Eamon said.

  “Yeah, sure,” the pilot said, backing away.

  Eamon led the way onto the empty plane. He chose the farthest-back seats, sitting me next to the window.

  “Keep an eye out,” he said to Bento and sat down next to me. Eamon leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You can’t hide from your destiny.”

  Why did everyone talk in riddles? No wonder nothing ever got done—no one knew what anyone else was talking about. None of them made any bloody sense. My destiny was for my only love to leave the earth ahead of me and for me to be taken against my will. That was my destiny. I was tired of being pushed around all the time.

  I glared at him. As he looked into my eyes, I got the feeling he saw far more than other wolves—that he might be a soul reader, that he could read my past. I felt as if all my secrets were open to him. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them tightly, and I turned away from him. Whatever he was looking for, he wasn’t going to get it. This freak show was closed.

  I stared blankly out the window at the desolate wasteland. The winter’s cold bite made everything look bland and lifeles
s. It mirrored how I felt—left behind to die. I heard Adomnan and the pilot get on the plane as they exchanged pleasantries that weren’t pleasant at all, but I didn’t bother to listen. It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever happened to my body was no longer a concern of mine. I had nothing left to fight for. As the plane took off, I watched the trees disappear below us. Everything I had grown to know and love was gone. I couldn’t feel Grey’s heart anymore. I couldn’t sense his emotions. Every sign of him had been torn from my soul, and it left it naked.

  Adomnan came out of the cockpit and approached us. I was suddenly happy Eamon didn’t take the hint and move seats. His body next to me meant Adomnan couldn’t get any closer to me, and for that I was thankful. I hid my face under my hood, hoping it would conceal my fear from his watchful eye. I held my breath until he finally sat down several rows ahead of us. The air whooshed out of my lungs in a rush, and I shuddered.

  The flight went by slowly as fear consumed my heart. We were getting farther and farther away from my family, and I didn’t want to realize this nightmare. I didn’t want the plane to land. Landing meant it was over and I was lost. No one would come for me. I finally knew what it felt like to be truly alone.

  Hours later, the plane landed in the cold landscape of Iceland. I resigned myself to my fate and continued to follow them blindly. We walked away from the plane into the surrounding forest, disappearing into the darkness and fog. Adomnan was no longer in a hurry; it was obvious that whatever we ran from in Canada no longer trailed us here.