The Marked Girl

by Lindsey Klingele

  It was Merek. He was unconscious and bleeding, and he looked small against the concrete floor. Liv gasped as the wrath grabbed Merek roughly and hauled him up. It carried him over to Malquin’s feet and dropped him on the ground. Liv could just barely make out the slight rising and falling of Merek’s chest. If he was the one who had sold them out to Malquin, it looked like he’d been double-crossed.

  “What did you do to him?” Liv whispered.

  “Nothing, yet,” Malquin replied.

  “What did you promise him? To make him give us up.”

  Malquin’s head twitched at that, and he smiled his creepy smile. “Ah, my dear. Maybe you are less insightful than I thought.”

  Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a long, thin knife.

  “No!” Liv said, pulling against her chain.

  Malquin ignored her, and knelt down over Merek.

  “Please,” Liv said. “You don’t have to do this.” She could hear the naked desperation and helplessness in her own voice. Behind her, Shannon moved closer to Daisy, as if to block her view.

  “Wrath blood is needed for us three to cross through the portal without being torn apart. You don’t want to be torn apart, do you?” Malquin lowered the knife and pressed its point to the skin of Merek’s exposed neck.

  “Please!” Liv pulled against the chain until her shoulder threatened to pop. Her feet scrambled against the floor, but took her nowhere.

  She watched as the knife pierced Merek’s skin below his neck and drew across his collarbone, toward his shoulder. She couldn’t tell how deep the cut went, but it was enough for him to bleed immediately. A steady trickle of Merek’s blood fell over the side of his shoulder and ran soundlessly to the floor.

  Liv’s stomach lurched as she watched Malquin lean down over the pooling puddle of blood and dip both hands in it. When his hands were coated in a dark red, Malquin stood. Behind him, Merek twitched, and his eyelashes fluttered. A powerful relief fell over Liv to see that Merek was moving, but it slipped away as Malquin made his way toward her. He ran two fingers over her forehead, and she jerked at the feeling of wetness they left behind. Malquin then went to Daisy and left a streak of red on her as well.

  “Repeat after me,” he said, without looking at them. “Echgo libratum, echgo indux vitte. Echgo libratum, echgo indux vitte.”

  The words sounded vaguely Latin, but more guttural somehow. A language Liv didn’t know. Ancient and harsh.

  “I said, repeat.” Malquin reached into his other pocket and withdrew a small handgun. He aimed it at Shannon, and Liv’s mind went blank.

  Shannon shook her head and inched as far away from Malquin as her shackles would allow. “Please,” she whispered, sounding more scared than Liv had ever heard her sound before. Shannon was directing her words to Malquin, but it was Liv who responded.

  “Echgo libratum, echgo indux vitte.” The words came from her mouth more easily than she would have thought. After a moment, Liv heard Daisy’s voice join hers. Then, she could feel something beginning to grow—a pressure in her head, right between her eyes. A pulling sensation. As though she was connected to an invisible string—and maybe she had been her entire life—and only now was someone on the other end beginning to pull it tight.

  Malquin chanted as well, his lips curling into a smile as he did. Liv turned around, slowly, to face the wall, and her breath caught in her throat. There, at her eye level, a small, black hole was opening up in the wall. Then it started to grow. Liv felt the hole drawing her closer, pulling her near. It wanted her. It felt heavy, purposeful. Inevitable.

  A crashing, tearing sound ripped through the room.

  But it hadn’t come from the portal. Reluctantly, Liv stopped repeating the words, tore her gaze away from the growing hole in the wall, and turned around—only to see another hole. But this one was much larger, taking up nearly half the space of the wall across from her. Instead of opening up into pure darkness, it showed the orangy-black haze of the Los Angeles night sky. And standing there, in silhouette, were more than two dozen figures in dark red robes.

  THE BATTLE

  The portal was nearly five feet high, but had stopped spreading over the rusted wall.

  “Don’t stop chanting!” Malquin yelled, but his focus was soon pulled away from Liv and Daisy, toward the robed figures who were working their way through the room. Wraths poured in from the warehouse to fight the Knights back with knives, pipes, and other makeshift weapons. A small group of wraths formed a rough line that protected Liv, Daisy, Shannon, Merek, and Malquin from the clanging conflict. Liv could hear metal on metal and could smell blood in the room’s enclosed space. But soon the line of wrath guards blocked her view entirely.

  “Keep chanting!” Malquin screamed.

  But chanting was the farthest thing from Liv’s mind. And even Malquin was distracted by the pushing wall of dark red robes that was moving ever closer.

  A wrath guard to Liv’s left collapsed in a heap on the ground, a blade sticking out of its chest. It didn’t get up again. Liv realized, with a dimmed sort of triumph, that she had been right to call the professor instead of the police—the Knights knew how to fight wraths, and had brought silver blades. Now she could only hope that their fight with the wraths lasted long enough for her to figure out how to get away. . .

  A yell tore through the room. Liv couldn’t tell if it was human or wrath. She turned slightly and saw Merek struggling to rise. For a moment he looked up, eyes first on Liv, then on the portal. He got to his knees and started to crawl toward Liv, his teeth gritted in pain. Not a moment later, a battling Knight and wrath stepped in between them, blades and claws flashing. When they moved away, Merek was gone.

  The fight went on. Blades flashed in the dim lighting of the warehouse, robes swirled, wraths growled. A trickle of blood made its way slowly across the concrete floor, toward Liv’s foot. There was no way to tell if it was from a wrath or a human. It almost looked fake, like the corn syrup concoction she’d whipped up for her film shoot earlier in the summer.

  Liv looked out over the fight and, for a moment, tried to convince herself the whole scene was fake. The wraths were stuntmen with dark contact lenses, the fights were choreographed, the weapons props. If someone called “Cut,” everyone would stop. They’d pull back their hoods and go chat over a hummus tray in the corner. It could almost be true, if she imagined hard enough . . . it could almost be true . . .

  The trickle of blood reached her foot, staining the edge of her shoe. A few feet away, a wrath crashed heavily into a pile of barrels, causing them to roll over onto the floor, spilling out a stream of pungent, familiar-smelling liquid. Liv knew there was no more pretending—this was a real fight, they were in real chains, and real gasoline had just been spilled.

  Malquin called out and snapped the fingers on his good hand. Two wraths broke from the fray and approached.

  “Unchain the scrolls,” Malquin said. “They’re coming through the portal with me.”

  “No!”

  The wrath ignored Liv’s scream and unlocked her from her shackles while another released Daisy. Every part of Liv’s body wanted to sprint away, but the sight of Shannon, still in chains, stopped her. Within moments, the wrath who had released Liv from the shackles held her tightly by the arms.

  Liv looked squarely into Malquin’s eyes. “I did everything you asked. Let Shannon go.”

  Malquin squinted at her. “Once we are safely through the portal, my people have instructions to release your friend.”

  “Don’t go with him, Liv,” Shannon said. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her shackle chain, pulling uselessly, the skin of her knuckles turning white.

  But Liv wasn’t sure she had a choice. She pulled against the wrath who held her, but its grip was too strong.

  And then, a familiar face appeared at the edges of the fight. His eyes were puffy and bruised from where Cedric had hit him the night before, but it was impossible not to recognize him. The professor.

&n
bsp; At first, Liv thought the professor’s eyes were locked on hers. Was he going to kill her—right here, right now? But the professor walked right past Liv, his eyes sweeping past the portal and landing on Malquin.

  “You,” he sneered. “I remember you.”

  Malquin turned to face the professor, his face full of hate. “And I, you. It’s hard to forget the face of the man who destroyed your family.”

  “Not sufficiently, it seems.” The professor reached into his robes and pulled out a short, silver sword. “But there’s time to correct that.”

  Malquin merely smiled, and lifted up his own handgun. “What is it they say? Never bring a sword to a gunfight? Or something like that. These things tend to fade from the mind when you’re trapped in a medieval dimension for two decades.”

  The professor narrowed his eyes at Malquin. “Close the portal.”

  Malquin laughed. “I do remember the perfect Earth response to that: Make me.”

  Before Malquin could move, the professor thrust his sword at Malquin’s good right hand, the one that held the gun. Malquin jerked back just in time to spare his wrist from the blade, but the gun was knocked to the floor. The professor swooped down to retrieve it.

  “Not exactly my weapon of choice,” he said, steadying it in his hand. “But it will do. You can’t keep the portal open for long if you’re missing a scroll.”

  Before anyone could react, the professor swiveled, pointed the gun at Liv, and fired.

  Liv felt something crash hard into her chest, and she dropped to the ground. For an instant, she was sure she’d been shot. But something heavy was lying on top of her—someone had managed to push her to the ground.

  She shifted to see Cedric, his face inches from hers.

  Cedric brought a hand up to her cheek and ran his thumb over her skin. “Are you okay?”

  Liv nodded. Before she could say more, Cedric leaped up to face the professor. But as soon as he jumped up, he stopped, his eyes caught on the portal hole in the center of what was once a concrete wall. His legs gave a quick jerk, and for a moment, just a moment, Liv thought he was going to dive into the darkness. The darkness that would take him home.

  Instead, Cedric turned back to the action of the room.

  With a firm hand, the professor aimed the gun once again. This time, it was Malquin who jumped in front of Liv, batting at the professor’s hand with his good arm. Cedric looked between Malquin and the professor, as if unsure which one he should try to help.

  Malquin spoke through gritted teeth as he fought for control of the gun. “Go, through the portal!” He was still facing the professor, but Liv knew his words were directed to her.

  “No way in hell,” Liv replied, “am I going anywhere with you.”

  The professor rammed the butt of the gun into Malquin’s face, then quickly turned and aimed it again—not at Liv, but at Daisy.

  Daisy’s eyes widened as she stared down the barrel of the gun, but she seemed frozen in place. The wrath who was holding her jumped away from the threat of a bullet. Before Liv could yell out, Cedric sprang into action. One moment he was standing next to Liv, and the next he was at the professor’s side. He reached out to knock the gun from the professor’s hands, and as he did, another shot went off.

  This time, Liv knew immediately that the bullet hadn’t met its mark. She saw sparks hit the wall where the bullet ricocheted off the cement, near the overturned barrels of gasoline. A bright orange flame flickered at the edge of the liquid, and in a matter of moments, the barrels were burning. The gun Cedric had knocked to the ground was consumed by fire.

  “Oh God,” Liv whispered. The fire spread quickly from barrel to barrel, lighting up the gasoline on the floor. Liv’s brain swirled with panic. The smell of the fire and the rising smoke threatened to bring her back, back to her old, darkened bedroom, her old wooden house. Sitting on that lawn and watching it burn . . .

  Shannon pulled on Liv’s arm, shaking her back to attention. “Liv! We have to get out of here.”

  Liv took her hand from her mouth and coughed as the smoke hit her throat. “Daisy, run! We’ll be right behind you.”

  Daisy looked back at Liv and gave a quick nod. She dropped down low and ran into an opening in the fray, away from the growing fire. Liv lost sight of her almost immediately. She turned and knelt next to Shannon, who was still in shackles.

  Both girls pulled at the chains while keeping track of the quick progress of the fire. The flames had already spread to cover the entire spill.

  Malquin, Cedric, and the professor continued to struggle a few feet away. Liv looked up when she heard a grunt, and saw Cedric doubled over at the waist. But he recovered quickly, his jaw set in a hard line. He shoved the palm of his fist up against the injured part of the professor’s face and grimaced as the professor yelled out in pain.

  Liv turned back to Shannon. She wrapped the chains around her hands and pulled again, so hard that she fell backward.

  “Liv,” Shannon said, her voice soft. “You have to go.”

  “No way. Not gonna happen.”

  “I can’t get out of here,” Shannon said, eyeing the fire. “And you don’t have much time.”

  “Shannon—”

  Liv was interrupted by a loud, horrific screaming. She looked up to see a Knight flailing around the room, his robes engulfed in flame. The wraths stepped out of his path, and not even his fellow Knights tried to help him. Within a few moments, the Knight had sunk to his knees, the fire growing brighter and larger on his back.

  Liv coughed through the thickening smoke.

  “Cedric!” she screamed out. “I have to get Shannon out of here!”

  Cedric tore himself from the fight and dropped down next to Liv to help her pull on Shannon’s chains.

  Liv heard a choked yell and looked up. With Cedric gone, the professor was gaining the upper hand in the nearby fight. His hand wrapped around Malquin’s throat. Malquin stumbled back, bringing both men closer to the wall—and the portal.

  “Hurry,” Shannon urged.

  “It won’t . . . budge,” Cedric said, gritting his teeth.

  Shannon let out a small, desperate sob that transformed into a cough halfway through.

  “Please, please,” Liv said, pulling the metal around Shannon’s wrist with all her might. Her face and arms felt hot, and she knew the fire was growing closer. It was almost impossible to see the fight in the warehouse through the waves of dense smoke. The fire itself was growing louder, drowning out the cries of the men and wraths who fell into it.

  Past Cedric, Liv could barely see Malquin and the professor as they still struggled. They were very near to the portal now, the fire at their backs. They grasped at each other, half fighting, half clinging for the support to stand.

  Malquin’s eyes scanned the fiery horror of the warehouse, and Liv could briefly see flames reflected in them. He looked to her, then, and she could read the defeat in his eyes. She knew, just a half-second before he moved, what he would do. Clinging tightly to the professor, Malquin pushed himself off the ground, backward into the portal.

  The professor reached out, trying to keep Malquin from escaping. His hands clasped at Malquin’s twisted arm, but instead of pulling Malquin back into the room, the professor was pulled forward. He stumbled for just a moment, eyes wide, before falling completely into the blackness of the portal and disappearing from view.

  Cedric stared into the space where the two men had just disappeared. His back was completely rigid, and from her vantage point on the floor, Liv could just make out a sliver of his expression—of the horror there, and also the longing. On the other side of that black hole was his home.

  Liv tried to call out to him, but instead sucked in a lungful of smoke and ash. She doubled over, coughing and retching.

  The room tilted.

  Liv was thrown violently to the right, and crashed down hard on her elbow. She reached to steady herself against the ground, but couldn’t—the ground itself was shaking.

&
nbsp; An earthquake.

  Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, only to be swallowed by flames. Wraths and Knights alike tumbled to the ground. Several raced out of the building through the giant opening in the wall, until a chunk of corrugated metal from the roof tore free, slicing the air as it went and partially blocking the opening.

  “Liv!” Cedric screamed. “You have to go!” His voice was swallowed up by the chaos and the noise. Liv had a hard time seeing him through the smoke. But she shook her head.

  The world lurched again, once again throwing Liv to the ground. When she struggled to get up, she saw a large crack in the cement under her feet. The earthquake had pulled the floor apart.

  Instead of pulling on the shackles around Shannon’s wrists, Cedric instead pulled at where they were chained to the crumbling ground. The chain gave, and Cedric handed it to Shannon to carry.

  Shannon rose, still coughing heavily. Cedric and Liv each supported her on one side and started toward the opening on the other side of the room. Beads of sweat ran down Liv’s face, and her throat was raw. The heat of the flames was oppressive, overpowering.

  They carefully made their way toward the other end of the room, weaving between the remaining Knights and wraths that still filled the space. They had to crawl over dark heaps of robes and clothes that Liv knew were collapsed bodies. She tried not to look down, instead keeping her eyes half-closed to keep out as much smoke as possible.

  Once, Cedric glanced back over his shoulder, toward the portal. Liv risked a glance back also and saw, to her surprise, that it was growing smaller. As it did, the wall itself started to fall, large chunks of it crashing down to the ground.

  They were almost across the room when Liv heard a screaming, tearing noise coming from above. She, Cedric, and Shannon all looked up, just in time to see the last remaining section of the metal ceiling swinging downward, trailing flames.