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

by Vancil, Alicia Kat

  “Come on sleepy head, time to wake up,” someone said quietly as they jabbed me with a foot.

  “Nathan?” I asked as I groggily blinked my eyes until the room came into focus.

  I looked around; we were in the security office. I tried to move my hands, but they wouldn’t move. No, that wasn’t right. I could move my hands, they were just—bound? I tried to work through the fog in my head; tried to make the world around me make sense.

  But I couldn’t.

  Why was he looking at me that way? Nathan had always been kind to me, to my family. This person, this Nathan in front of me was so far removed from that person I knew that I was almost positive this was a dream.

  Almost.

  “You, my dear, have caused me an endless series of problems,” he said as he folded his arms and sneered down at me.

  “Nathan, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Your Embassy is detaining my wife and I’d like her back.”

  “Your wife? Why would we have your wife?” None of this was making any sense and my “this is a dream” theory was gaining momentum. However the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this wasn’t a dream.

  “You mean you don’t know? Tisk, tisk. I thought you were more clever than this, Nualla,” Nathan said as he looked me over like I was some kind of experiment that had disappointed him by yielding an unfavorable result.

  “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

  “You didn’t find it particularly odd that your school was attacked by katana-wielding assassins when your father’s own personal guard is herself a world-class swordswoman? Or that she was conveniently not there when The Embassy was attacked?”

  I just gaped at him in horror, my heart sputtering and skipping a beat. If Natasha was one of the assassins, that meant— I looked up at him, my eyes growing larger in shock, my breath coming up short. “You’re the inside man,” I stated on an exhale of breath, letting it all out until my lungs were empty. It made perfect sense now, why they hadn’t found the mole. The mole was Nathan, who would have made damn sure he wasn’t caught. It was a perfect plan, really.

  Damn you Travis, for once couldn’t you have just been wrong?

  “Finally using that brain of yours, I see,” Nathan said with a mirthless crooked smile. “Pity.”

  Panic started to rise in my throat as the implications of what he was saying worked its way through my mind like a poison. The person who was supposed to be protecting us, the person we had entrusted our very lives to, was out to kill us. Then I realized something even worse; people didn’t tend to divulge their secrets to you if they were going to let you walk away. Which meant I was most likely about to die. But still, I just had to ask even though I knew what the answer would be. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Oh lots of reasons, but mainly because you’re not going to live very much longer.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m not?” My heart was slamming so hard against my ribs I could barely hear Nathan’s voice over the sound of it.

  “I need to get rid of you, so she can take your place; her rightful place.”

  “She?”

  “You’re not the only one with that pretty face of yours. As it turns out there’s someone that bears a striking resemblance to you, my dear.” He moved to give me a clear view of the security display behind him. There stood a girl who looked exactly like me; it was like looking into a horrible mirror.

  “The doppelgänger,” I whispered as my heart shuddered to a stop.

  “You two could practically be twins. The only real difference between the two of you is those blue streaks,” he said, gesturing to my hair. “And that was easy enough to fake.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to push down my fear. “And Patrick, won’t he notice it’s not me?” I asked, but even as I did the horrible realization set in. Now I finally knew why the voice of the second assassin had seemed strangely familiar. Because it had been my voice.

  “Oh I don’t think he will,” Nathan answered cryptically before he looked back at the screens. “Well, things look about to get underway, so I must bid you adieu.”

  He rose from the table and walked over to push something in the corner behind me which responded with an electronic beep. As it started to hum and beep quietly, I didn’t have to think hard to realize what it was; now that I was more alert I could feel the titanium resonating against my skin. A bomb. A titanium bomb. Could he have possibly thought of anything more deadly to us—to me.

  “A bomb—but why, Nathan? Why would you betray us? Why would you hurt you own people?”

  He leaned in conspiratorially. “Let me tell you a secret honey, I’m nothing like you.” The air around him wavered and his horns turned a dusky red. He was a Kakodaemon. Nathan was a Kakodaemon. In one horrible moment the pieces all fell into place.

  “Your wife’s Jane Connolly isn’t she? Patrick’s—”

  “Former mother? Why yes, yes she is,” Nathan answered with a wicked smirk. “You know, it’s funny really, when I found out you two got together I thought our whole plan was in the drain. But apparently, you both were too busy running around like idiots to realize the truth.”

  “But why, why would you want him? Why would you take him?”

  “Joshua Centrina took something from me—something very precious; I simply returned the favor.”

  I couldn’t find the words to speak, so I just sat there looking at him.

  “But I really must be going now, I don’t want to miss that lovely wedding out there,” he said as he stood back up again. He took a few steps toward the exit before he turned back around. “You know, as much as I’d like to say I’m doing all this to put you all in your place, or that the very sight of you disgusts me, really it comes down to this: I needed a diversion to get my wife out, and I really had no qualms about killing you or blowing up your Embassy to do so,” he admitted with a shrug as if it was nothing.

  I just stared at him, my heart thudding painfully fast in my chest.

  “Be seeing you,” Nathan said as he turned and continued toward the exit. But just as he was about the pass through the doorway he stopped and turned. “Oh wait, I guess I won’t,” he said with a wicked grin as the door shut and blocked him from view.

  I bit back my panic as I watched the Nathan on the security screen stroll away. When I was sure he was a safe distance away I sprang into action. Despair was a luxury I so didn’t have at this moment.

  Unfortunately for Nathan, during our lovely chat, I had realized that the wooden chair I was bound to wasn’t bolted to the floor. Which meant his plan was totally frakked. All I had to do was break the chair, and I would be free. And thanks to the lovely TV programming they had on lately, I knew exactly how to do that. If Nathan had been as smart as he thought he was, he should have killed me on the spot. Too bad for him I guess.

  I swung the chair as violently as I could into the nearby security table, and it splintered into pieces. My arms broke free from the chair easily. Now came the second way in which Nathan had underestimated me. Those dance classes I had taken since childhood had taught me more than just fancy footwork. A deep breath and a little balancing later and I had easily slipped my bound hands to the front of my body.

  I ran to the door and reached out for the latch. The second I touched it searing pain ripped through my hand as if I had been shocked. I pulled my hand back so fast I almost fell over. That bastard! He had changed the door latch to one coated in titanium. This was just plain evil, really. And how the hell had he gotten out? Well if he thought that was going to stop me, he was wrong. All I needed was some fabric to act like an oven mitt. It would still hurt like hell, but at least I would be able to escape this ticking time bomb.

  I looked down at where my wedding dress should have been and for the fi
rst time I realized I was only wearing a just-barely-long-enough white slip.

  Oh hells no, that girl is not going to marry my Patrick wearing my frakking wedding dress!

  Well, screw them. I would just find some other fabric. My eyes darted around the room, there had to be something else here I could use. Sure enough, slung over one of the chairs in the corner was one of the KP Officer’s jackets.

  I love you SF, and your completely unpredictable weather. Even in the middle of frakkin’ summer it could be fifty degrees with cold-ass wind.

  I grabbed the jacket and wrapped my left hand—there was no sense in messing up the hand I actually used. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and wrenched the door open. The second I released the door I nearly doubled over in pain. I would have dropped to my knees as well if it hadn’t been for what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

  Travis stood there in his slate-gray formal kimono top and hakama pants, looking more shocked than I had ever seen him in my life. “Nualla?”

  “Yes Travis, who the hell else would it be?”

  “But—I just saw you back there, about to walk down the aisle,” he said, turning back toward the temple.

  “That’s not me, that’s a doppelgänger!” I shouted, wincing at the pain in my hand.

  “I knew it,” he announced with complete certainty as he turned back toward me.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Nualla, I’ve known you nearly all your life and that girl out there isn’t you.”

  “Has anyone else realized that?”

  “I don’t think so. I only noticed because I saw the other you in the hall. That’s why I was out here,” he answered, gesturing to the hall before looking at me apprehensively. “So what the hell is going on?”

  “Can’t explain that right now, Travis, there’s kind of a bomb in here,” I replied, jerking my head back toward the security room.

  “A bomb?” Travis blinked at me dumbly for a second before looking over my shoulder in disbelief.

  “Yeah, one with titanium, as if a regular bomb wasn’t enough of a bad thing.”

  Travis swallowed hard then grabbed me by the shoulders. “Save the others, I’ll try to disarm it. If—if something goes wrong—I love you both,” he stated in a shaking voice. And with one last look he pulled me into a tight hug before pushing past me into the security office.

  I looked back for one terrified second at what could be the last time I would ever see him, and then I turned and ran.

  No one stood in my way; the halls were empty. Everyone must already have been inside. I could hear music, soft beautiful notes drifting down the hall, an unfair reminder of what this day should have been. A reminder of how it was being cruelly wrenched from me. I was about to lose everything, my friends, my family, Patrick. Everyone I held most dear.

  Everything.

  53

  No More Words

  Saturday, June 16th

  PATRICK

  As I watched my beautiful soon-to-be-wife walk down the aisle toward me, I almost couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Nualla had never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment. Like a goddess in white, her hair pulled back from her face to cascade down her back. The hanging beads of her crown dancing with every little step she took. Her eyes mysterious and otherworldly as ever. It stole my breath away.

  She had taken me on a crazy journey these last six months into places and things that I hadn’t even thought possible in my wildest dreams. We—I mostly—had made a lot of mistakes along the way, but it had all been worth it. I would go through any amount of pain again if I knew in the end I would get to be with her. I didn’t need someone to tell us we belonged together; I already knew it, completely—irrevocably.

  She was nearly to me now; any second she would be here, and we would speak those words that would bind us together, now and always.

  I took a deep breath then I heard the sound of a door bursting open. “No! Patrick, it’s a trap!” someone screamed in Nualla’s voice.

  Instinctually, I jerked toward the sound. From one of the side doors Nualla ran toward me barefoot, hands bound, wearing nothing but a slip. My brain couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing so I turned back to the Nualla I had been watching. But the more I looked at the Nualla in the wedding dress the more I realized it wasn’t her. Sure, the girl looked exactly like Nualla, but something was missing; something that told me it wasn’t her.

  This is like a nightmare.

  I whipped my head back around to the real Nualla just as she tripped, thrown off balance by her bound hands. Everything moved so slowly, as if time was hardly passing at all. I reached out my arms to cradle her fall, and then I saw it, the shiny glint of something the doppelgänger was pulling from within the bouquet.

  A gun!

  She aimed it squarely at us; at Nualla. Without much thought, I thrust Nualla to the side putting her out of bullet’s path. A normal bullet wouldn’t kill her, but after the attack on the school I knew that these people—these daemons—didn’t play fair.

  The bullet hit its mark and we were falling. I hit the ground with a thud so hard I couldn’t keep my hold on Nualla—again. I was in the bus again; we were crashing. A pain in my chest stole my breath; I couldn’t call out to her.

  An explosion of sound rocked the ground and glass rained down. “Travis!” Nualla’s voice screamed from somewhere close.

  Travis isn’t on the bus, why is she calling for him?

  “Patrick?” Nualla said in a voice that was barely audible over the chaos around us.

  I tried to take a breath to answer her, but the pain was too much. Things were getting blurry—unfocused.

  “Patrick!” Nualla’s tear-streaked face loomed close over mine. She looked down, and her eyes went wide in fear. “Oh gods you’ve been shot! Please, somebody help!”

  I was—shot? But I wasn’t shot on the bus, what was she talking about? This wasn’t making sense.

  I forced myself to take a breath even though the pain was nearly unbearable. My head cleared marginally, and I realized I was in the temple with the shattered glass ceiling above us. We were at the wedding; the fake Nualla had tried to shoot my Nualla, but I had snatched her out of the way. I had protected her; even in this frail human body, I had still been able to save her. With the knowledge of that, I could rest with ease. I let out a sigh of relief, and everything got fuzzier.

  “Patrick? Patrick, stay with me! Don’t leave me Patrick, please don’t leave me! I love you—please don’t die.”

  I wanted to tell her not to worry, not to cry, but I couldn’t find the words. And then everything faded into a peaceful black oblivion.

  54

  A Time for Miracles

  Saturday, June 16th

  NUALLA

  When Patrick had shut his eyes, I had nearly lost it then and there.

  “Patrick, open your eyes!” I shook him gently, but his eyes didn’t open. “Patrick, please!” Blood was already spreading across his deep blue ceremonial haori kimono top staining it black.

  My dad dropped down next to me and extended his hand toward Patrick. But just as quickly he pulled his hand back. “They used a—titanium bullet?” he said in disgusted horror.

  Fuck that, I wasn’t going to let that stop me from saving him. I already had the burns on my hand, so I reached to pull the bullet out myself.

  Before I could touch it, Alex slapped my hand away. “We can’t take the bullet out here or he’ll bleed to death!” He looked up at me quickly. “We have to get him to the medical clinic right away.” He grabbed Patrick and prepared to lift him. “Nualla, help me!”

  I held up my bound hands cursing Nathan not-so-silently in my head. “I can’t!”

  My dad looked down at my hands for
a split second before his head jerked back up, “Roy!”

  A second later, Roy was there, and the two of them were lifting Patrick off the floor.

  It was utter chaos in the hall outside the temple; people were fleeing in all directions, unsure of where to run. I looked back at Alex and Roy and ran smack into someone. Unable to throw my hands out for balance I started to fall back, but someone caught me.

  I looked up and my heart leapt in my chest at the sight of Travis in something other than a million bits. “You’re not dead,” I breathed, in complete shock.

  “Yeah, I couldn’t stop the bomb so I got the hell out of—” His expression changed from panic to horror. “Oh gods, what happened?”

  I followed his gaze to Alex and Roy weaving through terrified fleeing wedding guests, carrying an unconscious and bleeding Patrick. Patrick didn’t look good; his face was quickly losing color.

  “She shot him—with a titanium bullet.”

  “These people and their damn titanium,” Travis cursed.

  “She was aiming for me, but Patrick jumped in the way,” I said, my lip trembling.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Travis looked down at me, contemplated something quickly and scooped me up. “It’s faster if I just carry you.”

  We arrived in the medical clinic to find a cowering Dr. LaCosta. “What on earth is going on?” he asked, standing up unsteadily. “Are we being attacked again?”

  “Yes, but that is not the immediate problem,” Alex said as he and Roy gently placed Patrick on a table. “He is.”

  Dr. LaCosta looked at Patrick in alarm. “He’s been shot.”

  “Yes,” Travis replied, looking at his brother.

  The doctor reached out a hand toward Patrick and we all yelled in unison. “No!”

  “What?” the doctor yelped, startled.