Daemons in the Mist (The Marked Ones Trilogy: Book One)

by Vancil, Alicia Kat

  “Patrick, your arm, what happened to it?”

  I looked down at my arm trying to think of how to explain. I decided on the truth, I wasn’t a really a good liar, so why risk it. “Umm…I was on that bus that crashed on Tuesday.” I looked up at him in time to see my mother coming through the door. She was on the phone like she always was. Great, now I had to explain it to both of them at the same. It was so much harder to lie when they both were looking at me.

  “I’ll call you back later Paul, I’m sure you can handle it till then,” she snapped into her phone before she dropped it into her purse.

  “Jane, did you know about this?” my father asked in her direction as he crossed his arms.

  “Know about what, Nathan?” my mother said in exasperation as she dropped her stuff on the counter as she came closer. Then she stopped dead, she had apparently just noticed my arm. “Patrick honey, what happened to your arm?”

  “It got broken in a bus accident,” I answered, shrugging.

  “A what?!” my mother yelped in shock.

  “I’m okay, really—” I said as quickly as I could.

  “Why didn’t you call us?” my father asked in a worried, disapproving voice.

  Crap.

  “I lost my phone in the crash, and you know how bad I am with numbers.” I crossed my fingers under the table. I really had lost my cell in the crash, though “lost” wasn’t exactly the right word. Destroyed beyond all repair was far more accurate.

  “That aside, you should have called us when you got home from the hospital,” my father said, still looking stern.

  Double crap.

  “Um…I actually just got home,” I admitted, trying not to meet their eyes.

  “You were at the hospital this whole time?!” My mother looked like she was about to faint.

  “Um, actually Nualla’s parents took me back to their house. Nualla’s mother didn’t want me to be alone here with a busted arm, since you both were out of town.”

  “Well, that was nice of her,” my mother said with a slight smile.

  My father’s jaw tightened, and an odd expression crossed his face. But before I had time to decipher what it was, it was gone. “Yes, that was very kind of Mrs. Galathea.”

  After a few moments of silence, my mother turned to me again. “What I don’t understand is why the hospital didn’t call us.”

  Crap. I was just digging my hole deeper and deeper. Why couldn’t I just shut up? Hell, why couldn’t they just ignore me like they normally did?

  “Um, because Tuesday was also my eighteenth birthday, so yeah, I was an adult when I came into the hospital.”

  Oh and you both missed it of course, and well, probably forgot in the first place.

  “Oh Patrick, I’m sorry we couldn’t be here.”

  “It’s okay Mom, I’m kinda used to it,” I said with a shrug. And the sad truth of it was that I was.

  “I left your present at the office; I’ll be right back,” my father said emotionlessly as he turned and walked to the door.

  “That’s not really—” I started, but he was already out the door, “—necessary.” The door closed shut and he was gone again.

  Wait, had he said “Mrs. Galathea”? Had I called her that? I stared at the door trying to trace back through the conversation in my head.

  “Who’s Nualla?”

  “Huh?” I snapped my head back in my mother’s direction.

  “Who’s Nualla?” my mother asked again. For the first time in a long time, she was staring at me while she talked instead of just looking at her phone.

  Who’s Nualla? Oh, she’s just a daemon I happened to accidentally marry in Vegas. But it’s cool Mom, it didn’t count because I was a minor at the time, was the first thing that came to mind, but I settled for the less incriminating: “My girlfriend.” It came out sounding more like a question than an answer, though.

  “Patrick, when did you get a new girlfriend?”

  “Um, about a month ago,” I answered while trying to think of a way to escape the rest of this conversation. “Wait, what do you mean, new? This is the only girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  “What about that one friend of yours, what was her name… Jenny?”

  Geez, even my mother had been able to clue into Jenny, and she wasn’t even here half the time. “No Mom, Jenny was never my girlfriend, just a friend who happens to be a girl.”

  “Oh well, you should invite Nualla over for dinner some time, it would be nice to meet her.”

  Sure mom, I’ll do that when hell freezes over.

  After a while, I retreated up to my room to flip through stuff on DeviantART and Facebook—which is far harder than it sounds with a broken arm. One of the images sparked a flicker of an idea, and I reached for my tablet to sketch it out. But as my hand reached for it, I remembered the cast.

  I hung my head back on my chair and sighed in anguish. Ugh, how am I going to get through six weeks like this?

  I closed my eyes and the images of Nualla falling returned in horrifyingly graphic detail. They had plagued me every time I closed my eyes even for a second, like my subconscious felt the need to torture me some more.

  “Patrick?” my father said from behind me, scaring the crap out of me.

  “Dad!” I turned around and he handed me a box.

  “Not that you can use it at the moment with that arm the way it is, but I know you’ve been wanting to get a new one.”

  I looked down at the large box with a drawing tablet splashed across its front. Most people would have been shocked that he had known exactly what to get, but I wasn’t. I had given up long ago and just made an online wish list. It’s just about as idiot-proof as gift giving could ever get.

  “Oh, and here,” he said as he handed me a shiny new cell phone. “Since your old one is missing. Try to keep hold of it this time.”

  This time? Was he expecting me to get into another accident?

  His eyes changed focus to the drawings covering the walls behind me. He stared for a while at them with cold eyes. “Is that her, your girlfriend?” he asked as he gestured with his head. His voice was harder than it normally was, like he was upset about something. I looked at him for a second before he clarified, “Your mother told me when I got back.”

  “Yeah, that’s Nualla…she goes to my school,” I answered cautiously; I was seriously beginning to wonder what was up.

  His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. So we sat there in silence for a while; him glaring at my artwork on the wall, and me trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

  “Well, try to be more careful in the future,” my father stated firmly. And before I could say another word, he was on his way out the door, phone in hand.

  Sure Dad, next time I’ll make sure not to get in a bus accident. Because I totally have control over that.

  35

  The Difference of a Month

  Friday, February 17th

  PATRICK

  It was Friday night and I was back at Nualla’s watching TV and chowing down on Chinese food with the rest of them. Normally we went to the club on Fridays, but with my busted arm it would have sucked. So we had settled for TV and takeout.

  We were laughing and having a good time when we heard the smashing of glass downstairs. “Gods Dammit!” Alex shouted, full of rage.

  All four of us turned in unison toward the door. And a second later, the three of them sprang up and sprinted out the door, and I did my best to hobble after them.

  When I arrived, they were all just staring open-mouthed at Alex and the pieces of the vase covering the foyer floor. Tylia was standing in front the open doorway behind him, and Loraly was peering anxiously from the living room.

  “Dad, what’s wrong?” Nualla asked in a startled voice. F
rom her tone I was almost certain she had never seen her father like this before.

  Alex looked up at us all standing there startled and confused on the stairs. He was so angry he was visibly shaking. “We need to leave—now.”

  “Why, what’s wrong Alex?” Loraly asked in an anxious voice.

  “Someone told the Grand Council about Patrick before I could. They’ve issued a warrant for his capture and execution.”

  “What?!” Nikki and Shawn yelped, staring at him in shock.

  I clutched the railing and tried not to panic. This was bad. This was really bad.

  “Dad, you can’t let them do that!” Nualla shouted, taking a few steps down the stairs.

  “I have no say in this matter, Nualla.” Alex looked pained and utterly defeated.

  “But you’re the Chancellarius! They have to listen to you,” Nualla said, taking another step down.

  “No, they don’t, Nualla. I can’t break the rules any more than anyone else can!” Alex shouted in frustration as he put his fist through the glass top of the foyer table. Powerless was probably not an emotion he felt a lot; if ever.

  After the broken shards had finished scattering across the floor, Tylia took a step forward out of the shadows. “You’re father’s speaking the truth, Nualla. The order came down a few hours ago.” Tylia wouldn’t look at us. Something was wrong. And then it occurred to me what Tylia’s job was. Her job was to protect the chancellarius and his family; even if that meant protecting them from themselves.

  “You were sent here to capture him, weren’t you?” Nualla said in a hushed startled voice, she had apparently realized the same thing I had.

  “Yes,” Tylia admitted in a quiet voice.

  Nualla marched the rest of the way down the stairs and pushed Tylia. “You can’t have him, Tylia. I won’t let you take him away!”

  Tylia’s eyes darted up to Nualla. “I never said I was going to follow the orders.”

  “But, that’s an act of treason,” Nikki said from next to me.

  “Tell me something I don’t know, kitten,” Tylia sighed, looking away.

  Tylia was avoiding looking at me; at first I thought it was because she might be ashamed of her orders. Then I realized that if she never looked at me, she could claim under oath that she had never seen me. It was skirting the truth, and it clearly showed where her true loyalties lay.

  Nualla turned around to look at Alex. “Dad, there has to be something we can do?”

  “The best I can do is bring him before the Grand Council and hope they listen.”

  “You mean surrender him?” Nualla asked in a choking voice. He didn’t answer; just watched the blood rolling off his fingers. “No,” Nualla said, taking a step back. “We’ll run away. They can’t have him.”

  “Nualla,” Alex pleaded.

  Nualla took another step back. “No, they can’t kill him. I love him, they can’t kill him! We’ll leave tonight. We’ll go to another state and—”

  “They already thought you might. It wasn’t a citywide order, or even a regionwide one. It was an all-region alert bulletin,” Tylia informed us, folding her arms.

  “But…” Nualla breathed before she collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor covered with broken glass and fragments of vase. “But they can’t kill him. They just can’t.”

  Loraly rushed from the living room and dropped to her knees beside her daughter. She cradled Nualla in her arms murmuring something I couldn’t make out. It was heartbreaking to watch her; to watch the tears falling to the ground and mixing with the blood. The room, aside from Nualla’s sobbing, fell silent. No one felt like filling it. What could you say in a situation like this really?

  Her world, now mine, was becoming a very dangerous place. I had known there would be risks; they had all made that abundantly clear. And I was prepared for the chance that my body could be incompatible with the retrovirus and that I would die a horrible, agonizing death. I just didn’t think I would be facing death so soon.

  I finally found the ability to move my legs and walked slowly down the rest of the stairs. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but there was a sea of glass shards between us. Images from the accident flashed before my eyes and I swayed on my feet. I tried to catch myself, but I only succeeded in banging my cast uselessly on the stair railing.

  Just before I hit the ground, Tylia grabbed my arm and wrenched me back up. “Dammit kid, you just blew my plausible deniability.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” I whispered under my breath.

  “Patrick we have to…” Alex said, finally looking at me.

  “I know,” I answered, taking a step toward the door. I was too scared even to be angry at all this.

  “We’re going with you,” Shawn announced in a shaky voice.

  Alex stopped and whipped around. “No, you go home. If you’re involved, Roy can’t be. And frankly, we really need him on our side.”

  Shawn swallowed and nodded, however, he didn’t look like he liked the idea of sitting out.

  Alex turned his eyes on his daughter. “Nualla, you have to stay too.”

  “What? No!” she shouted indignantly, snapping out of whatever personal hell she was seeing in her head.

  “We need to go,” Alex stated, ignoring Nualla’s protest and turning stiffly to the door, dripping a trail of blood in his wake.

  I know I should have said something—anything—but I couldn’t find the words; couldn’t get them past my throat, so I just nodded and numbly followed after him.

  “No!” Nualla screamed as she rushed forward.

  In a move swifter than I could track Tylia was in front of Nualla blocking her path to us.

  “No, you can’t take him!” Nualla screamed as she tried to claw her way past Tylia. It was a horrible sight watching her struggle against Tylia; eyes wild like a caged animal. And even as the door closed behind us the fight never left her.

  I didn’t know if I would ever see her again. I didn’t trust enough even to hope.

  NUALLA

  “Let me go!” I screamed, fighting against Tylia with all my strength. I wasn’t going to break free; she was far stronger than I was, but that didn’t lessen the fight in me. “Now!”

  Tylia finally let me go and I fell to the glass covered ground. I whipped around to yell at her, but stopped when I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. In all the years I had known Tylia I had never seen her shed even a single tear.

  “I’m going after him,” I stated in a cautious voice.

  “I know,” she replied, looking at the ground.

  “You can’t stop me,” I said, standing up.

  “I’m not going to.” She finally looked up into my eyes. “This is wrong. You know it; I know it.”

  I couldn’t find the words to say something, so I just nodded.

  “You know you’re risking your succession by going after him, right?” Tylia asked in an even tone.

  “I don’t care, Patrick’s far more important than power,” I answered, raising my chin.

  Tylia raised an eyebrow.

  “My dad holds that power now, and even he can’t save Patrick.”

  Tylia moved forward and placed something in my hand, closing my fingers around it. “You know, this is something I thought a spoiled rich arius incapable of learning. Apparently, I was wrong.”

  “What?” I asked as I opened my fingers and saw a set of car keys—my car keys.

  “That the power over life and death is a power only the gods should hold.”

  “Tylia, I…” I was at a loss for words.

  “Go, you idiot!” Tylia shouted as she all but shoved me toward the door.

  I didn’t wait for her to change her mind, I just ran out into the pouring rain. I had to get to him, I had to save him.
He whom I had never known I needed so much until now. He whom I could no longer live without. Funny that it had taken this to show me just how much I truly loved him.

  I jammed the keys into my Vanquish and screeched out of the driveway, nearly clipping the gate in the process. I slammed my fist into the car’s cloaking button and slammed my foot on the gas. I needed to get there now, and I didn’t need to get pulled over by the cops in the process. ‘Course this also meant I had to pay far more attention to the road, because none of the humans would be able to see my car coming. They would only feel the wind as it whipped past.

  I caught air a few times as I flew through the streets of the city. The rain was coming down pretty hard, flooding the streets with water. It rushed down the streets in little torrents like a water slide, making the speed at which I was driving even more dangerous.

  I made a sharp turn and knew in that instant I wasn’t going to make it. My car slid across the slick road, careening out of control. I nearly obliterated a mailbox before I jerked the wheel sharply and took out a fire hydrant instead. Pedestrians looked around frantically and an alarm in my car started going off, warning me that the cloaking device was about to fail.

  I made a split-second decision and backed my car into a nearby alley. Dizzily, I got out of the car and shook my head clear. I looked down the street and took stock of my situation. My car was busted and the street was shockingly devoid of taxis, which left only one option. I took a deep breath and launched myself down the sidewalk. I ran until my lungs hurt, and then I pushed myself further.

  I arrived at The Embassy what seemed like hours later drenched to the bone and wheezing in pain.

  “Arius Nualla?” Sam, one of the Kalo Protectorate officers, said in a startled voice.