Birthmarked

by Maria Violante

“Yeah. Although I was too late to save Buckner. But wouldn’t that make me the Lighthouse?”

  As the silence stretched on, the gears in my mind started to spin. Had I been wrong in trusting my instinct? What if I had misjudged him? What if he thought I was crazy? Would he give me away to the Order? Put me out of my misery himself? I wouldn’t put either past him.

  “In that case . . . we’ve got to get you out of here.” He flashed me a smile, and then his hand came over mine. I stared at it.

  At first, the wiggling fear in my gut intensified. And then, little by little, a familiar warmth seeped through me. Hot on its heels was an angry swell of loneliness that blossomed out of me all at once.

  I needed an ally. Had he not been waiting for me, here, in Buckner’s truck? What did that mean?

  And why did I want for him to take me in his arms, right now?

  We cruised along until he finally cleared his throat.

  “Charlie, there’s something you should know.”

  “What?”

  “Jeff Buckner was my father.”

  If anything, I wanted to embrace him more. The realities of his pain hit me with full force—Buckner had not just died. He had sacrificed himself. He saved me, and in doing so, Shawn lost his only chance of mending a fence.

  I knew how that felt.

  We continued in silence until the lights of the Iowa-80 truck stop came into view.

  The worst part was abandoning Buckner’s truck. I would never get to say goodbye or go to his funeral. There would be no ceremony, no long nails in a coffin, no telling of deeds and memories. Somehow, I could accept that, but to leave his truck in a lot somewhere, where it could get vandalized or towed?

  I knew he would understand, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

  As if sensing my hesitation, Shawn rubbed my shoulder. The small motion was enough to bring me close to the breaking point.

  “I need a phone book.”

  He nodded. “Good thought. It will buy us more time if we call in for a tow, and they don’t see it abandoned somewhere.”

  The thought of the truck being towed was like a body blow. “No! I’m just . . . going to pick out a hotel that is a little ways away and in the middle of a small town. I have enough in cash to buy a used car. I think if we get one from a guy on craigslist or something, we might be able to keep a pretty low profile.”

  He laughed, and I felt a blush burning over my cheeks. I turned away to stare out the window at the field of trucks beside me.

  “Babe, I’ve already stashed us a car.”

  I bristled at the casual pet-name, even worse for the condescending tone he had used it in. “Don’t call me babe. And what do you mean?”

  “I’ve been planning this for days—ever since things started going sour and people started acting weird. Before the Cronus figured out I was up to something, I had already set up a car. It’s clean and untraceable, although you’re right about the phone—we’ll need a cab to get to it from here.”

  Without another word, he opened the door and climbed out.

  The waiting scared me. Every shadow, every light, every truck that pulled in was a potential spy for the order. The safety I had felt in Shawn’s presence was gone. I sat, nervous, until I realized how stupid it was to do nothing. Finally, I took a deep breath and packed what few things I really needed. It felt better to be moving.

  The cab was green and white, a color configuration I wasn’t used to. It crept down the aisles, the meter off, and I wondered what kind of directions Shawn had given it—until the light hit it just right and I saw the body sitting in the passenger side. He had met it somewhere, probably at the front door, and directed it around. I clambered out, Diesel under one arm and the small bag under the other. Shawn stepped out and opened my door, a move that put me slightly off balance, but I shuffled in without a word.

  As when we pulled away, I touched my hand to the window. Goodbye, Buckner. It didn’t matter where his body was—I was pretty sure his truck was where his spirit rested.

  When I turned back around, Shawn had twisted toward me in his seat. He, too, was staring at the truck, and in the low light, I caught the glimmer in his eyes that could have only been tears. He looked away, and his hand crept into mine. My heart was suddenly confused by the contrasting emotions. I didn’t trust Shawn—and yet, I had to. I didn’t like the way he held my hand—and yet, I loved it. And through everything was a sadness for Buckner, an anger at the Order, and a frustration that things had to be this way, that my new life couldn’t have worked out.

  I was grateful the cabbie didn’t try to make small talk. In fact, he didn’t speak at all, not until Shawn directed him to our final destination, a nearly abandoned lot.

  “Are you sure this is it?” He had a thick accent—somewhere from the east coast, I thought, but I was no good at picking out that sort of thing. “This place is abandoned.”

  Shawn nodded. “Yeah. Our car is here.”

  “Right. Your car.” His eyebrows went up, and I knew what he must have been thinking—and that either way, he was going to watch us get in it—and he still might call the cops.

  “Oh, come on. We came in a truck—why would we need to steal a car? We just keep it here when we’re out of town—pay-for-parking is expensive!”

  The cabbie snorted. “Don’t I know it? That’s one reason I hate city work.” He gave us a final glance over, and then nodded. “Twenty-seven-fifty.”

  I had the money out of my pocket before Shawn could move. I was going to contribute something to my own escape—that much was for sure. “Here you go, and an extra ten for taking us all of the way to our car. We really appreciate it.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt the slight tingle of my birthmark, and a piece fell into place. This was the way I had talked to the gate-guard at Elijah foods, a century ago. This glib talking—maybe I really was an empath. I’d ask Shawn more about that when I got a chance.

  We stood and waved as the cab left, giant smiles pasted on our faces. Finally, when we couldn’t see him anymore, Shawn led me down another row to a dark-blue sedan—a nondescript, old-man’s boat, perfect for not being noticed. He fished the key out of his pants and stepped in, turned the engine over, and stepped back out.

  “It sounds good, and the tank is full.”

  Still, I didn’t get in. I didn’t know what I was waiting for.

  “I know you don’t trust me.”

  “Yeah.” His summary was too simplistic to be accurate, but I didn’t feel like explaining myself just yet.

  “But I want to apologize for some of the abrasiveness I’ve shown you. It’s just—you’re so. . ." Even in the low light of the car, I could see the flush that came over his cheeks, the way his pupils filled with desire and maybe something else I couldn’t read. My heart quickened in my chest.

  He opened the door without another word. I realized what he was getting at and clambered in.

  And then I saw the flicker of movement in the rearview mirror, and I started to scream.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Did you miss me?” Joseph gave me a quick smile. “I’m glad you guys got here when you did. I was starting to get cold.”

  Shawn’s chest heaved, and his breath rushed audibly through his nose. “How did you find us? And how did you get in?” He clenched his fist so tightly the knuckles were turning white, and my suspicion that he may have been complicit in Joseph’s discovery of us evaporated.

  “I followed you last week when you stowed the car. After Charlie’s light-beam knocked us all down, it wasn’t that hard to deduce that you guys were in on this together.”

  First Shawn in the truck—and then Joseph in Shawn’s car? I did not want to deal with this right now. “What do you want?”

  Joseph shot me an angelic smile, and instantly, my stomach flip-flopped. I half-choked on my own anger. Even now, even in these circumstances, his power worked on me.

  Well, I wasn’t going to let it. “Stop it!” I slapped
him hard, across the face, and he clapped a hand to his cheek. “Now, tell me what you want.”

  His face darkened. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Bullshit you are!” Shawn slammed a palm onto the truck of the car. The metal bowed in, ever-so-slightly. “I’ll kill you before I let that happen.”

  The corner of Joseph’s mouth twitched. “You can’t, and you know it.”

  Shawn squinted, his voice dropping a full octave. “Maybe I don’t follow the code anymore.”

  “Maybe you don’t. But I think you do.” Joseph turned toward me and indicated Shawn with his chin. “He won’t kill me—not unless I’m presenting him or his loved ones with immediate danger, or to avenge a wrongful death. It’s part of the code of honor.”

  My mouth fell open. “Immediate danger? You’re trying to kill me!” I realized that half of me had been hoping Shawn would just shoot Joseph and be done with it. “And doesn’t Buckner’s death need avenging? And even if you don’t kill me—you’ll just tell the Order, and I’ll get killed anyways!”

  “Not right now, I’m not. And it doesn’t count if someone else does it. He has to stop the actual hand that is raised against you.”

  “Oh, I get it.” I snorted. “Just like the Cronus and Josh, trying to kill me with the glitches? That’s not a violation of your code, either, right? You’re all a bunch of fucking cowards.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. She’s not the Lily.”

  Joseph grinned. “I know. I’ve got my own reasons for following her.”

  Shawn grabbed my arm and pulled me to one side—but not out of Joseph’s earshot, which is the only place I could really talk to him about anything.

  “I am not going to shoot him. Not until I find out what he’s up to. He could be an ally, and one we might need. Joseph’s got certain . . . powers.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Are you going to kill him right now?”

  I glanced up at Joseph, and the expression on his face turned my stomach. If only it had been calculating, or somehow evil—but no, the only way I could describe it was lovesick. I sighed. “No. But I don’t want to be his baby factory either.”

  Shawn cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. “Um . . . right.” He cleared his throat. “We have to let him come with us. If neither one of us is willing to eliminate him, then keeping a close eye on him is our only option.”

  I scowled at them both, my head threatening to explode, but he had spoken the truth. If we just left Joseph, there was no telling what he might do. “Fine! But . . . search him, and . . . and he sits in the back!”

  I jumped into the passenger side and slammed the door.

  With my eyes closed, I could no longer see the hateful glances dancing back and forth between Shawn and Joseph, but maybe that was for the best. That crap was starting to make me feel sick, anyways.

  Neither one would permit the other to sit behind him or to sit next to me in the front, so I got stuck with the backseat. I guess both of them didn’t think too highly of my chances of escaping.

  That was fine, though, because I had a plan. I was going to get to the bottom of this—of all of this, and I had a feeling I knew a good place to start. Maybe it was time to finally go home.

  About the Author

  Well-traveled and uncoordinated, Maria Violante is the best-selling author of several books in the realm of speculative fiction--all of them crossovers that require hyphens in the genre description (see: gladiator-dystopia-rom-sci-fi, shifter-western-historical, or gunslinger-mercenary-urban fantasy.) She enjoys a well-roasted coffee, Bell's Winter White Ale, and lives in Michigan with her Chihuahua, Beau, also known as “Piggy Wiggy”.

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  Author's Web Site

  Other Books by this Author:

  Monsters and Markers

  Gambler’s Luck

  Witness

  Hartwood Publishing delights in introducing authors and stories that open eyes, encourage thought, and resonate in the hearts of our readers.