Marked by Sin: an Urban Fantasy Novel (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1)

by Jasmine Walt

  “This place is a dump,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “You should have charged more for your services.”

  I froze, knickers in hand. “Seriously? They made me kill innocent people!”

  He held up his hands. “You didn’t know that at the time, so you should have charged more.”

  I threw the knickers into my suitcase. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “It’s why I’m freelance.”

  “I thought you didn’t kill.”

  “I don’t, but I price my own jobs.”

  “How much did you charge Eamon to find me?”

  “Enough. And I tacked on extra because you talk too much.”

  “Dickhead.”

  The insult just popped out, followed immediately by a spike of anxiety. I paused, slanting a wary glance his way as my inner naga slapped me upside the head.

  His nostrils flared. “Stop that.”

  “What?”

  “I can smell your apprehension, your fear.”

  He could? Well, that explained the nostril flaring. Physically masking my emotions was one thing but curtailing them altogether? How the heck did he expect me to do that?

  Garuda blinked and backed out of the room. “I’ll be outside the door.”

  He slammed the door behind him, and I took a moment to allow my pulse to regulate. This, being around him, was fucked up. He was a predator, the naga’s natural enemy. Predator and prey didn’t waltz about together. Predators smelled their prey’s fear, and it galvanized them to hunt. If I was going to be around him for any extended period, I’d need to master my instinctual anxiety.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I shook out my arms to relieve the tension in my body and finished packing. It was odd how everything that meant anything to me was either strapped to my body or stuffed in my case. Oh, and there was Toto, of course, chilling at a mansion that wasn’t really there.

  Yeah, I’d just reduced my life to a handful of items.

  Giving the place I’d called home for the past few years a final look, I grabbed my case and headed for the door.

  Garuda practically ejected me from his car outside the mansion before peeling away from the curb as if his life depended on it. Or maybe it was my life that depended on it. His absence loosened the tangle of conflicting emotions in the pit of my stomach.

  Eamon was out, and Aria was nowhere to be found, but Toto was happy to follow me about as I explored my new home. I’d stay awhile, at least until they caught Narada and it was safe for me to live my life. There was a weight on my chest, a leaden feeling of despondency and impotence that would probably be there for a long time to come. Best to get used to it. In the meantime, a little snooping was always a wonderful way to lift my spirits.

  The study attached to the library was locked. A desk, papers, and other office items were visible through the top half of the beveled door. A quick peek into a second room presented a lounge that resembled an interview room. Beyond the kitchen was a long lawn with a greenhouse on the far side, but the patio doors were locked. The upstairs included five bedrooms, three of them locked, and two bathrooms. Overall, there were way too many bolted doors to make snooping any fun.

  Eamon seemed to have an affinity for locks. I could have picked them, of course, but this wasn’t a job. This was his home. My explorations deposited me back at the guest room, where I’d kinda begun this whole revelation journey. I was weary from everything I’d learned today, and the bed beckoned, offering oblivion. My victims’ faces filled my head, and a steel band squeezed my lungs as hot needles pricked the back of my eyes and nose. Innocent faces. Innocent souls. Lives that I’d ended too soon. The tears I’d been holding at bay exploded in a torrent of guilt and anger. I curled up on the bed, buried my face in my pillow, and screamed.

  Eventually, my tears subsided, and Toto’s warm body pressed against my side. I wrapped my arm around him. His breathing, slow and even, soothed away the last of the rage, leaving me empty and drained, filling my limbs with lethargy. My mind was fuzzy, exhausted with replaying the contents of the file. No more. I closed my eyes and drifted away.

  “Malina. Malina. Shit. Woman, wake up!”

  It was a voice I didn’t recognize. Besides, I wasn’t ready to face reality, not yet, except someone was shaking me.

  “You need to wake up, Malina.”

  A delicious aroma tickled my nostrils. Fries, burgers, and something earthy and herbaceous. My stomach growled, and the warm arms of sleep released me.

  “That’s it. Wakey, wakey. Feeding time.”

  The salty tip of a fry touched my lips, and I opened my mouth and gobbled it up. A second fry followed, and then a third. My eyes popped open to a concerned face—dark skin, bright green eyes and a shaved head.

  “Hey, didn’t Eamon tell you to eat frequently?” he asked.

  Grabbing the packet of fries from the unknown bloke, I sat up and shoved a handful into my mouth. Man, that was so good.

  “Good, huh?” He grinned.

  The herb smell was coming off him. Sage, coriander, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. New kind of cologne, maybe?

  “Who are you?”

  “Drake. The resident witch. I can see the family resemblance.”

  “The eyes. Yeah, I know.”

  “Nope, the piggy snorts when you eat. He does the same.”

  My mouth fell open. “Rude much?”

  He winked. “Manners much?”

  Snapping my mouth closed, I finished chewing. I polished off the large fries, and then Drake passed me the McDonald’s bag, which contained two more large fries and three cheeseburgers.

  I dove in. “Where’s Eamon?”

  “On a job. You went to see your adoptive dad?” he prompted.

  I nodded, shoveling more food into my mouth.

  “What happened?”

  I pointed to the dresser where I’d placed the file and the box of ink.

  Drake stood and walked over to it. He wasn’t a tall guy—average height and more of a stocky build. He retrieved the items and brought them back to the bed where he flicked through the file, his mouth turning down.

  “It’s not—”

  “My fault? Yeah, that’s what Garuda said. But you’re both wrong. It is my fault. I killed them.”

  The food that had been so delicious a moment ago was now ashes in my mouth. I crumpled up the bag and pushed it away. My appetite had evaporated.

  Drake opened the box. “The ink they used to mark you.” He lifted out the vial. “We could use this. If I can figure out its composition, tease out the spell infused in the fluid, maybe I can find a way to reverse the effects.”

  “Remove the marks?”

  “Or unbind them from your soul to lessen the taint. You see, because you were an innocent soul, manipulated to kill the innocent, those kills would have only mildly tainted you. By making you accept these marks, they infused your soul with an artificial taint. If I can unbind them, we can work toward cleansing your soul.”

  Hope was a thing with feathers, easily clawed to death by reality. “It won’t bring back everyone I’ve killed.”

  “No,” Drake said. “But it will allow you to save a billion lives once the gatekeeper mantle falls on your shoulders.” He set the box on the bed. “Look, Malina, I can’t presume to know what you must be feeling, but I can tell you that if you let it eat away at you, you’ll be letting Narada win. Fight back.”

  I sat up straighter. “How?”

  “By being the person Narada tried to prevent you from becoming. He tried to derail you, but now you have the chance to change that, to potentially save humanity.”

  He was right. Dwelling wouldn’t change what I’d done, but the knowledge was still too raw to set aside now.

  “I’m just . . . I’m gonna need some time.”

  “Of course.”

  Drake rummaged in the box and pulled out something else. My phone.

  He handed it to me.

  �
��The battery is dead,” I said.

  “I have a spare charger I can lend you.”

  “Thanks. What happens now?”

  “I work on this ink, and we wait. Brahma Corp is up in arms over what Narada has done. You should have heard Eamon on the phone to Indra when you were going through the change.” He cocked his head. “How is that going, by the way?”

  “The change?” I shrugged. “Aside from my skin looking awesome, I don’t actually feel that different.”

  The weird sparkle had gone from my arms, but they still looked pretty.

  “Really?” Drake said.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hold out your hand, Malina.”

  “Er, no.”

  He chuckled. “Trust me.”

  I gave him my best incredulous look. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Yet you accepted my McDonald’s.”

  “Hey, that was food. This is a knife.”

  “A teensy knife. And a tiny demonstration. Don’t you want to know how you’ve changed?” He smiled, flashing his dimples.

  He was way too cute to be a penknife killer. I held out my hand.

  He took it gently in his, and then he cut me.

  I pulled back sharply. “Dick!”

  He chuckled. “Look at your hand.”

  I unfurled my fingers in time to see the cut close.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Malina, you are now officially a hellhound. Super healing and strength, as well as speed and agility. Obviously, you need to keep your tank topped up with food, but, yeah, you’re pretty super.”

  “I don’t feel super.”

  “I guess you won’t feel the full effects until you take Eamon’s place as the gatekeeper.”

  “Full effects?”

  “Yeah, throwing fireballs and going all supernova.”

  “I can throw fireballs?”

  “Not yet, but you will be able to. One day. The rest—the strength, yadda yadda—is all there for you to tap into now. That just comes with being a hellhound. The fireball stuff comes with being a gatekeeper.”

  “And my naga abilities? I can do stuff with water. Will I be able to do anything else?”

  “We don’t know. Naga are pretty rare and very secretive about their race and abilities. They aren’t like the yaksha and the vampires. They aren’t born from the union of man and demon. They’re creatures from a time before, the time of the old gods. According to Eamon, your mother never spoke much about her home or her people. They exiled her for choosing to be with Eamon. So we’re on new ground with you and your abilities. There could very well be more . . . or less.”

  “She must have loved him very much.”

  “Your mother? Yeah, she must have. He doesn’t speak about her often, but when he does, I can see how much he still loves her. I wish I’d had a chance to meet her, but I came along later, after the breach incident.”

  “How did you two meet?”

  “Eamon saved my life. I was just a kid in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he was like a fucking angel of fire. I decided, then and there, that when I grew up, I’d find him and work with him, for him, whatever. And then seven years ago, as soon as I turned eighteen, I opted to leave my coven and become semi-independent, and fate led me to him.”

  “Fate? Like, you just stumbled across this place? The place that looks like a rundown nothing from outside?”

  He grinned, showcasing those cute dimples again. “No. Fate, like I stumbled across one of his cards.”

  The woman who had come around earlier had been carrying a card. “Magical cards. Why aren’t I surprised?”

  “Hellhounds have the ability to find people in need. Eamon channels this energy into personally handwritten calling cards. He leaves them all around the city. They find people and bring them to him.”

  “Have I got that ability?”

  “Not yet, but you will have once Eamon . . . once it’s your turn to carry the mantle.”

  He meant once Eamon was dead. Not something I wanted to dwell on. I’d only just found him. There was so much to learn about him. Things to remember about my childhood, memories that my gut promised would resurface in time, if he was around.

  Drake and Toto sat up straighter, both cocking their heads at the same time.

  “Eamon is back.”

  13

  We found Eamon in the lounge, glass of whiskey or brandy in his hand, pacing the floor. He looked up as we entered, the frown marring his forehead smoothing away. “Did you find out what you needed to?” he asked me.

  “Yes.”

  “Her kills were innocents,” Drake said.

  Eamon ran his hand over his face. “Right. Drake, we need to figure out how to fix this.”

  “Already on it. I have the ink Narada synthesized to mark her.”

  Eamon nodded. “Good. Get to work.”

  Drake moved toward the door and paused on the threshold. “No joy with Ajitah?”

  “The man is as stubborn as a mule.”

  “Who’s Ajitah?” I asked.

  “Some bloke Eamon has been trying to recruit the last few days.”

  “Why do you want him?”

  Eamon sipped his drink. “Ajitah is special. He’s a fighter. Resilient and determined, but with no past. No distractions. We need him on the team. There’s a storm coming, and we’re going to need all the manpower we can get to weather it.”

  A shiver skittered over my limbs. “He turned you down.”

  “Yes.” Eamon pinched the bridge of his nose, a move I was beginning to associate with his struggle to maintain his cool. “I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe if I offer him more money . . .”

  This was all about me. The extra muscle, the storm—it was all because of me and the taint on my soul. Eamon was preparing for the worst and trying to shield me. There was no way I was sitting on my arse, twiddling my thumbs, while they tried to fix things.

  “Let me try.”

  “What?” Eamon looked up from his glass.

  “Let me try talking to him.”

  Drake snorted. “And what makes you think you’ll have any more luck than Eamon? Eamon is an expert negotiator.”

  I turned to Drake. “Don’t you have ink to analyze?”

  He narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I grinned, placed my hands on my hips, and thrust out my chest. “I have these.”

  Drake’s attention fell to my breasts. His eyes widened as his cheeks colored, and he tore his gaze away. “Yeah, that could work.”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Eamon said.

  “Why? You have something against me using my feminine wiles?”

  “I have something against men ogling my daughter!”

  Twin spots of color were visible high on his cheeks. He was really bothered by the thought. For some reason, it gave me the warm-fuzzies. In all the years I’d been Barrett’s daughter, he hadn’t once been fazed by my saucy outfits or seduction-based assassinations. I’d always assumed it was because he respected me as a fellow assassin and a grown adult, but I knew different now. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing the protective inclinations of a father. It felt . . . amazing.

  Eamon was still staring at me, his brows drawn in disapproval.

  I let my hands slip from my hips. “Fine, I won’t seduce Ajitah. I’ll just talk to him. Maybe speaking to someone who already works with you, someone new, may help. I can be quite persuasive. Even without using the girls.”

  “The girls?”

  I glanced down at my chest.

  Eamon growled. “For goodness’ sake, Malina.”

  I chuckled, delighted by his response. “So, will you let me do this?”

  Eamon locked eyes with me, assessing.

  “I need to do this, Eamon. I need to do something. I can’t just sit here.”

  “Drake, have you finished working on the war
ding amulet for Malina?”

  “Yeah, finished an hour ago.”

  “Good. Please go fetch it.”

  “On it.” Drake left the room.

  Eamon sat down in an overstuffed chair and waved his hand toward the three-seater sofa.

  I took a seat, giving the room a closer once-over, noting the gothic architectural influences—the vaulted ceiling, the pointed arch windows, and the deep mantelpiece. Sunlight streamed through those windows. Strange, but my body clock told me it should be much later, maybe even nighttime. I stepped closer to the window, straining to see the world outside, but aside from the light, there was nothing. My spidey senses told me we weren’t actually in London.

  “Where are we, Eamon?”

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. This building exists out of time and place, allowing it to be anywhere at any given time. At the moment, we’re anchored in London.”

  “So we’re . . . nowhere?”

  “Oh, we’re somewhere all right. We’re sitting atop the gates of the underworld.”

  “You’re speaking figuratively, right?”

  His eyes crinkled. “If it makes you feel better.”

  The strange symbol in the foyer suddenly seemed too sinister. “And the gates can be anywhere?”

  He nodded. “This place was built by the gods, a haven for the hellhound and his army. But only those invited may enter. The underworld is a vast place made up of circles, the worst of which is Narak—what we call hell. It was the denizens of this circle that attacked our world.”

  “And the rest of the underworld.”

  His lips twisted wryly. “Not all Shaitan, but trapped now nonetheless. The gods had no choice but to close the main gates.”

  Eamon’s tone said it all. Innocents were trapped down there, imprisoned with the Shaitan, and it was our job to keep them there.

  “Don’t dwell, Malina. There’s no point in it. We do what we must to protect the majority.”

  I parked my butt back in my seat, not sure how to feel about his words or the whole metaphysical aspect of this place. It kinda made me want to get back outside, just to feel reality under my boots, even if it was a reality that sucked.