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

by Jasmine Walt

  Toto padded into the room, jumped up onto my bed, and lay down, his dark button eyes watching my reflection.

  “Oh, so now you decide you want to hang with me when I’m about to head out? You want me to feel guilty, trying to make me into the bad guy, huh?”

  He cocked his head to the side, and I swiveled on my stool to face him. “It’s not going to work. You’ve been off doing goodness-knows-what with Aria, and now you want to be friends with me?” I folded my arms. “It’s gonna take more than that puppy-dog face to melt this stone-cold heart.”

  He lifted his head off his paws and let out a tiny whine.

  Must resist. Must. Resist.

  He held the pose, his cute eyes staring at my unblinking ones.

  I threw up my hands. “Okay, you win.”

  Five minutes of ear and belly rubs later, my phone beeped. Probably a text from Aaron, reminding me to get to Loki’s on time. I’d never been late for a kill, but timing was always an issue when it came to my social life. Not tonight, though. It was Carmella’s twenty-first birthday, and I’d promised her an epic night out.

  I gave Toto a final scratch behind the ears, took my place back at the dresser, and picked up my eyeliner.

  Time to put on my game face.

  “You made it on time!” Aaron grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off my four-inch heels. He set me down and held out his hand to Drake. “Hey, man, good to see you again.”

  The guys shook hands.

  “Here’s Carmella.” Aaron’s gaze slid over my shoulder.

  I turned to greet my bestie, enveloping her in a huge hug. “Happy birthday, babe.”

  “Thanks. I missed you, pots.”

  “Missed you muchly too.”

  “I can’t wait for this Narada god to get caught, so you can move back to Soho like you planned. And I’ve been thinking . . . I could move in with you. We could get a place together.”

  A couple of weeks ago, I would have jumped at this, like literally jumped up and down and squeed. But everything was different now. I didn’t want to leave the mansion, not even if Narada was apprehended. I’d only been there a couple of weeks, but it already felt like home, plus there was Eamon, my dad. We were finally getting to know each other.

  “Oh.” Carmella deflated. “I thought . . . I guess things are different now, aren’t they?”

  She could always read me like a glossy magazine. “I have so much to learn about what I am, what I’ll need to become. Staying with my . . . with Eamon is the logical option. But I’ll speak to him about getting you guys passes to come and go from the mansion.”

  She smiled widely. “Of course, yeah.”

  Her eyes weren’t smiling, though. Man, I was such a shitty friend for ruining her birthday high. Well, I’d just have to put it back. “Aaron, grab us some drinks. We’re gonna hit the dance floor.”

  I took Carmella’s hand and tugged her toward the writhing mass of bodies moving to the beat. We danced to four songs straight before making it back to the guys, and then we downed our drinks and headed back for more . . . this time with the boys in tow. Aaron was soon grinding with some petite brunette, and Drake and Carmella ended up gravitating toward each other, leaving me feeling like a third wheel.

  I slipped away without either of them noticing. After buying a bottle of water at the bar, I headed for our table at the back of the club.

  “Stopping so soon? I was enjoying the show.”

  The tingle shot up my spine, stopping me in my tracks.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows. His cropped blond hair gleamed in the strobe lights; his eyes, an interesting shade of green tonight, gravitated to my lips. My heart skipped a couple of beats, and my stomach bloomed with familiar anxiety.

  I resisted the urge to take a step back, defying my instincts. “What are you doing here?”

  Garuda held up his bottle of beer. “What does it look like?”

  He was one of the gods’ first creations, which meant he was almost one himself, and yet he acted like an average British bloke, with his accent, the clothes, and the casual way he held that bottle of beer.

  I lifted my chin. “Does it make you feel more human?”

  He brought the beer to his lips, tipped back his head, and drained the bottle. “Maybe.”

  Funny how he’d known exactly what I was referring to. “Please don’t tell me you can read minds.”

  “If you insist.”

  Okay, now I was creeped out. If he could read my mind, he’d know he made me want to run in the opposite direction screaming, while at the same time making me yearn to press up against his taut, dangerous body.

  He grinned, flashing me those sexy pearly whites. “Relax. Mind reading isn’t one of my skill sets, but you don’t have to be a mind reader to figure out what you’re thinking. You have a very expressive face.”

  I sniffed. “Actually, I’ve been told I have an excellent poker face.”

  “Yeah? Well, whoever told you that was a bald-faced liar.”

  Garuda took a step closer to me. This time, I did retreat.

  Words spilled from my lips. “So, why England? Why London? I suppose you could go live and work anywhere, so why here?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. I was just making conversation.”

  “No, you weren’t.” He leaned in, his heavenly scent trickling past my defenses. “You’re intrigued by me. Admit it.”

  Yes, yes, I was, but I was also repelled. There was no resolution to this contradiction of impulses.

  He leaned in further, inhaling me, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “You’re getting better at masking it,” he said softly.

  I raised my gaze to lock with his, my breath catching as his pupils dilated, throwing my reflection back at me. This was usually where my lungs refused to operate, making breathing difficult. But my pulse took center stage, fluttering like a bird desperate to be free of its cage. He leaned in further, his breath hot on the side of my face, and his zesty scent filled my head. The music, the laughter, the white noise that was the club melted away.

  “See, Malina, there’s no need to be afraid,” he whispered.

  And then his lips brushed my cheek.

  My breath exploded from my lungs as a steel band crushed my chest. The flutter mutated into a full-blown twist. I stumbled back, arms up to ward him off.

  His nostrils flared, his lip curled, and he backed away.

  His expression was impossible to read in the changing colors of the strobe lights, but the erratic rise and fall of his chest told me he was just as affected as I was. The band around my vocal cords finally eased.

  I swallowed, taking a tentative step toward him. “I’m sorry. Knowing you won’t hurt me doesn’t stop my body from reacting as if you will.”

  His jaw tensed. “No. I should have kept my distance. I’m sorry. I thought . . .” He shook his head, and something akin to regret flashed across his face. “I’ll see you around, Malina.”

  He walked away and melted into the crowd. Part of me wanted to chase after him, but the other was simply relieved he was gone. There was no time to reflect, because in the next instant Carmella’s slender arms were encircling my waist. Her sweaty face pressed against the side of mine.

  “I love you, Malina,” she slurred.

  “There’s no way you could have had that much to drink.”

  Drake took my elbow. “I think we should leave . . . get her home.”

  A shiver of apprehension ran up my spine at his concerned expression. “Why? What happened?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing, that’s just it. She was fine one moment and tipsy and weird the next.”

  Carmella was still hanging off me, her eyes closed.

  “Carmella? Babe? You okay?”

  “Hmm . . .” Her forehead rumpled in a frown. “I feel sick.” She tried to shove me away. “Gonna be sick.”

  Gripping her around the middle, I practically carried her toward the ladies’ toilets.


  “You need a hand?” Drake asked.

  “No. Find Aaron. Tell him Carmella’s not feeling great. I’ll meet you back at our table.”

  I pushed through the gaggle of girls blocking the doors to the bathroom, where hairspray, perfume, and peach schnapps were this evening’s signature aromas. We made it past the girls refreshing their makeup in front of the huge stage-lit mirrors and into an empty cubicle just in time for Carmella to chuck up. I held her hair while she emptied the contents of her stomach into the gleaming toilet bowl.

  I had to give it to Loki. This place was always immaculate.

  Carmella wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, straightened, and rested her head against my shoulder.

  “Malina, something’s not right.”

  My scalp prickled, and the hairs on the nape of my neck stood to attention.

  Something was wrong.

  For starters, it was too quiet, like absolute silence. That never happened in a club or in the ladies’ loos. Someone was always in there either chucking up or refreshing makeup or bitching about life. The ladies’ loos were the place to gossip and catch up, yet I couldn’t hear anything.

  Keeping a tight grip on Carmella, I unlocked the cubicle door and pulled it open enough to peer out. Smooth tiled floors and clean, large mirrors studded with bulbs reflected nothing but empty stalls opposite. No, wait, not all were empty. One door was partially closed, but I could see a shadow beyond. A person? Why were they just standing there? Gooseflesh broke out over my skin.

  “Malina, I’m scared.” Carmella’s voice trembled.

  “It’s okay.” I took her hand. “There’s something here. I can feel it, but we’re gonna make a run for it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I pulled open our cubicle door and stepped out. We’d have to hurry past the partially closed stall to get to the exit. I glanced at Carmella, sober and alert now. She nodded.

  We ran.

  We were almost there when the air crackled and the room was plunged into shadow. Carmella squeaked, and I lunged for the door, gripping the handle and pulling.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  “Malina!”

  I turned to see an inky mass spilling from the stall behind us. It rose to the ceiling to block out the light.

  “What the fuck?”

  Carmella joined me in yanking at the door, but it was sealed shut.

  We were trapped.

  I stepped in front of my friend, shielding her with my body. “Stay behind me.”

  The mass reared back and then whiplashed toward us. Vindra was in my hand before I could think, slashing at the inky substance and eliciting an angry screech. The mass fell back but surged forward again. I was ready to dice the fuck out of it, but it curled over me, slamming down into Carmella. I screamed and made a grab for her, but the mass was too fast, lifting her into the air, its tendrils wrapping around her body to pin her arms to her sides and her legs together. They covered the bottom half of her face, leaving only her wide, frightened eyes visible.

  “Let her go!”

  You for her. Put down the knife and come to me.

  The voice was husky but feminine. It rattled around inside my head, scratching at my skull. I shook away the invasive feeling and watched in horror as it raised Carmella higher as the black bands around her moved, tightening. Carmella’s eyes bugged out, her scream a muffled sound of agony.

  “Okay, okay. Please, don’t hurt her.” I dropped Vindra onto the floor and kicked her into the nearest cubicle, out of view.

  Good girl. Now, come here.

  I took a cautious step toward the mass, then another.

  “Let her go.”

  Carmella floated down toward the ground, still cocooned in the black stuff.

  Closer.

  Another step and its black fingers dropped Carmella and made a grab for me. The tendrils wrapped around my throat, lifting me off the ground, cutting off my air supply. I couldn’t breathe. I kicked my legs trying to get free, but it shook me in admonishment and grabbed my right wrist, lifting my arm up in the air.

  What have you done?

  The voice was a terrible hiss. The fingers around my throat tightened, and black spots danced before my eyes. What was taking Vindra so long?

  And then I felt the weight of her settling at my hip, back in her sheath. I reached down with my left hand and pulled Vindra out, slicing upward and cutting the inky arm holding me in place.

  The entity screamed as I fell to the tiled floor. I gasped for breath.

  No!

  “Hell yes.”

  I attacked.

  Slicing, spinning, jabbing. But it was wary now, its body a fluid ninja as it evaded my every thrust and jibe.

  “Carmella, try the door!”

  God, I hoped she was trying the door. I kept my eyes on the target, distracting it, focusing its attention on me, and hoping that whatever mojo it had on the door would be weakened.

  “It won’t open.” Carmella began to sob.

  My heart sank. I couldn’t keep this up forever. I’d gotten in a couple of lucky hits, but the mass was on guard now.

  It reared back, pressing against the far wall.

  I stood, legs braced, arms in a defensive stance. “What do you want?”

  You.

  It rushed toward me like an obsidian tsunami. I barely had time to take a breath before I was enveloped in thick, inky darkness.

  Open to me, little one.

  It pushed past my lips and into my mouth, forcing its way down my throat, up my nose, streaming over my eyes. My heart pumped slower, a vibrant pulse in my ears, as my lungs ran out of oxygen.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t breathe . . .

  Let me in.

  My heart thudded, once, twice, and then stopped. But I wasn’t dead. I was still there in the bathroom with Carmella.

  There you are, little hellhound. Now you will see. Now you can know.

  It was the voice from my dream, high-pitched and taunting. What the fuck was going on?

  Wake up! the other voices from my dream screamed in unison.

  Something in my mind clicked, a primitive knowledge that my conscious mind didn’t fully grasp. I was alive, still in my body, and I didn’t want this fucking black shit inside me anymore. I pushed outward, not with my limbs, but with my mind.

  The entity’s bellow of rage filled my head, and then another sound cut through the darkness—a shrill scream.

  Carmella?

  The world shook, and I was suddenly free, flying toward white-tiled walls. I barely felt the impact and was on my feet, turning to the action in time to see Loki shoot lightning from his fricking palms. Carmella cowered behind him. The door was hanging off its hinges, and frightened faces peered through. I pulled myself up, feeling the pain now. My ribs, my pelvis, my neck, and my throat were on fire.

  “Malina, come on!”

  Carmella waved me toward her while Loki kept his lightning trained on the inky mass, pushing it back into a corner of the room. I took a stumbling step toward Carmella, but a thick, black arm whipped out, smacking me in the abdomen and slamming me against the wall. My head smacked the tile, and I saw stars.

  “I can’t hold it off much longer,” Loki said.

  “You have to,” Carmella cried. “Malina—”

  “Stay back!”

  The entity was pulsing as Loki’s lightning speared it, cutting into the darkness with white light.

  Loki’s voice cut through the fog in my mind. “Malina, I need you to move. Now!”

  Peeling myself off the wall and blocking the pain, I rushed forward. The black arm whipped toward me in the periphery of my vision. Shit, not again! I braced for impact, but a body appeared before me, shielding me.

  Garuda.

  He grabbed the entity’s arm and twisted it into a knot. “Go!”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I stumbled into Carmella’s arms, and we scrambled out into the club, surrounded by people eage
r to find out what the fuck was going on.

  Drake and Aaron pushed back the crowd while I slumped to the floor, one big ball of pain.

  “Oh, God, Malina, shit. I thought you were dead. I thought . . .” Carmella began to sob.

  I wanted to reach up and hug her . . . to tell her it was all right, but my lips refused to move. My eyelids were lead weights.

  “It’s okay, Malina, we got you. We got you.”

  Darkness was nice.

  26

  I awoke, heart pounding, hand going to the belt at my waist to grip Vindra’s hilt.

  Carmella’s face hovered over me. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  I let my grip on Vindra slip. “Hey.”

  “Thank goodness you’re okay.” She enveloped me in a hug, setting off a domino effect of pain throughout my limbs.

  “Ouch.”

  “Shit, sorry.” She released me and sat back. “What hurts?”

  “Everything.”

  Carmella headed for the door, opened it, and shouted, “She’s awake.”

  The sound of footfalls filled the air. Eamon rushed into the room. “Malina . . .” He paused by the bed, taking a breath before closing the gap between us and perching on the mattress by my hip. “I thought I lost you.”

  My heart had stopped. Actually stopped. “I think you did.”

  “What?”

  “I think . . . I think I died. I mean, my heart stopped, but I was still . . . I was still alive. I can’t explain it.”

  “I can.” He gently took my hand in his. “Naga, like the gods, are immortal, and like the gods, there are very few things that can destroy them. You’re part naga, Malina, and you must have inherited that immortality. Thank the gods, you did.”

  Something about that didn’t sit right with me, and I searched my memory for the cause of the disquiet. Vinod!

  “No, that can’t be right. Narada had me kill a naga. It was my last kill.”

  Eamon frowned. “Are you sure he was naga?”

  “That’s what the kill order said.”