Marked

by T. L. McDonald

  I study his face in the dark. His dark blue eyes look almost black in the shadows, but they hold no threat. “I believe you.”

  “May I?” He holds his hand out. I’m not getting any danger feelings so I give him my hand. He touches me like he’s afraid that I’m going to break at any moment. Turning my hand over, he slides my sleeve up my arm. At first the symbol is hard to see until his thumb nears and then it shimmers coming to life.

  I hold my breath, waiting to be swept away into Sam’s memories. Minutes pass. Nothing happens. I’m still me. I relax a little as I watch Will study the mark. Every time his fingers move across the symbol it leaves a blue iridescent trail.

  “What does it mean?” I ask.

  “Knowledge.”

  “Knowledge about what?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never really seen this done before. It could be anything.” He looks up, searching my face as if it holds all the answers. “What do you see when the symbol activates?”

  “Different things.” I swallow hard, unsure if I should say anymore. Of course, if I want answers, I guess I don’t really have much of a choice. I’m either all in or all out and being all out will only leave me right where I am now—in the dark. “I see things through Sam’s eyes. I become Sam, reliving his memories like they’re my own.”

  All in it is.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Is that bad?”

  “I don’t know. In the visions you should be standing on the outside watching, but because you become Sam, I think he marked you with more than just basic knowledge. I think he marked you with the ultimate knowledge. I think he shared his soul with you.”

  “Did you just say that he shared his soul with me?” I jump to my feet, backing away. “That’s not possible. A person can’t just share their soul. And even if it were possible, which it isn’t, why would he do that?”

  My back hits the door, the knob jamming into my kidney. This is nuts. Will is crazy. All of this is crazy. I lean forward, my hands on my knees. None of this is real. This is probably all in my head and I’m really in some mental institution having one hell of a hallucination.

  “Hanna, calm down. You’re having a panic attack.” Will approaches with his hands out, palms up.

  I stare at his wrists. “Where’s your bracelet?”

  “What?” Will stops in mid-step, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

  I lunge forward, grabbing his arm, pulling him forward. “Your bracelet. Every member of The Order has one. I saw it when I was Sam. I saw you get yours so where is it?”

  He says nothing.

  “It was you wasn’t it? The other night in my house, it was you who broke in.” I shift my eyes to the bike parked in the driveway, my mind going back further to the day I was released from the hospital. “And it was you at the hospital. In the parking lot, the guy on the black motorcycle.” I let go of his arms so I can shove him. He stumbles backwards down the stairs tripping over his feet, arms flailing, trying to regain his balance.

  I dig in my pockets for my house keys.

  “Hanna, it’s not what you think. I can explain.”

  His boots scrape against the porch steps as I shove the key in the lock. “Go away.” My hands slip over the handle, struggling for traction. The door opens, safety just on the other side. Fingers wrap around my upper arm, twisting me back around, pulling the door closed in the process.

  “Let me explain.”

  “I said GO AWAY!” Something in me ignites, a force building from deep inside. My hands ball into fists. Whatever is happening inside of me reaches the surface and I let go. Will’s hand rips away from my arm as he’s hurtled off the porch. He lands in a heap on the walkway.

  He rolls over onto his back coughing. With effort, he pulls himself half way up leaning back on his hands; his legs sprawled out in front of him. He sways a little. “How did you do that?”

  “I told you to go away.” Truth is, I have no idea how I did that and it’s freaking me out. But under no circumstances am I going to tell him that. I reach behind me feeling for the door handle when Will’s arms give out. His head hits the walkway with a sickening thud.

  Turning my back on him I open the door and step inside. He just admitted to breaking into my house, he deserves to be left out there. Doesn’t he? Glancing over my shoulder I see that Will is still flat on his back. “Ugh. I better not regret this.”

  “Will.” I nudge him with the tip of my Converse. He doesn’t move. I nudge him again. He still doesn’t move. Dropping down to my knees I shake him as hard as I can. It’s useless. He’s out cold.

  I look up and down the street for signs of life, but other than a cat lying by the curb, Will and I are alone.

  He’s heavier than he looks, but I manage to hoist him up in a fireman’s carry, thanks to my new found strength. I kick at the partially opened door entering my house having no idea what I’m going to do with him. I head into the living room using his foot to flip on the overhead light where I then deposit him onto the sofa.

  One of his arms is bent at the elbow above his head and the other is tucked somewhere under his back. He’s too tall for the sofa so one foot hangs over the armrest while the other rests on the floor. The only movement he shows is the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

  My stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead, though evidently it isn’t loud enough to wake Will.

  “Will?” I smack him in the face leaving a handprint. He doesn’t budge. Figuring that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, I head into the kitchen to get something to eat. I grab a handful of chips from the bag on the counter before searching the cabinets. Nothing looks good so I move onto the fridge. It doesn’t hold many options either. A few cartons of what looks like sweet and sour chicken or one-day-old pizza from Frank’s Pizzeria. I can’t remember the last time Adam and I had Chinese so the pizza is probably the safest choice.

  I take out a plate, add two slices, then place it into the microwave. While my food heats I go back to the fridge to grab a can of soda to wash it down with.

  “Did you smack me?”

  I spin around dropping the can of Dr. Pepper on the floor where it of course bursts open spraying soda all over the kitchen.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Will sucks in his bottom lip trying hard not to laugh.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” The corners of his mouth tip upwards.

  I open the drawer beside the sink removing two dishtowels. I throw one at him hitting him in the stomach with it. “Since you seem to think it’s so funny you can help clean it up.” When he laughs all the cabinet doors behind me swing open causing me to jump. What the hell? Turning my attention back to Will I say, “And now that you’re awake, you can tell me why you were following me after I got out of the hospital and why you broke into my house.”

  Other things around the kitchen start to move, open, or fall over. I don’t know what’s causing it, but whatever it is, it’s freaking me out. I’m pretty sure we don’t get earthquakes in Lake Haven and I don’t believe in ghosts so that rules those out. Of course, I didn’t believe blonde haired boys could have black soulless eyes either and I was wrong about that, so who knows. Maybe it is ghosts.

  The smile falls from Will’s face and he picks up the oozing can of soda placing it in the sink. Putting his hands up he leans against the counter. “Hanna, you really need to calm down.” He stares at me for a few more seconds then starts to wipe up the soda on the floor. “I don’t want you to blast me again like you did outside because that hurt. Incredibly bad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re doing this,” he says gesturing to the chaos around me. “Just like you threw me off the porch and into the yard outside.”

  “No I’m not,” I say, and then I notice the soft blue glow of the symbol on my wrist. Am I doing this? A bowl falls from the cabinet above the si
nk, shattering against the counter. “How do I stop?” More dishes fall. I flinch, my panic rising with each one.

  He takes a step toward me. “You have to calm down. Just close your eyes and relax. Let everything go.”

  “Okay.” Closing my eyes I focus on the sound of my breathing letting my worries slip away. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Around me things start to settle. No more banging cabinet doors. No more dishes breaking.

  I open my eyes one at a time. “What’s happening to me?”

  Will places the now soaked dishtowel into the sink beside the can of soda. Stepping around the broken dishes he inches closer. “I’ll help you figure it out, but you have to trust me.” He takes me by the elbow leading me around to the table where he sits me down. A few seconds later he brings over my pizza and a new can of soda.

  “Trust you? You still haven’t told me what you were doing stalking me. Or what you were doing going through my room. For all I know you’re some psycho.” I hear the words coming out of my mouth even though deep down I know he’s not a psycho. I can feel Sam’s trust for him and so I guess I sort of trust him too. Though I’m not going to tell him that.

  He takes the broom out from beside the fridge and starts sweeping up the mess I made. “I wasn’t stalking you per se,” he says, “I was gathering information.”

  “Gathering information? About what?”

  “About you.” He says it like its no big deal. Like he does this kind of thing all the time. “I needed to know what you knew.”

  The vase on the table shakes sending little vibrations through the wood into my hand. “And how is that not stalking?”

  Will grabs the vase saving it before it topples over. Propping the broom against the wall he takes a seat across from me. “I needed to know what kind of person you were. I needed to know if and why Sam marked you.”

  “You could have just asked me. In fact, I wish you would have. You have no idea what it’s been like for me this past week. For a while I thought I was literally going crazy. It would have been nice to have someone tell me that I wasn’t. And F.Y.I., I have no idea why he marked me other than out of convenience considering that I was the only other person in the alley other than the guy who killed him.” Will winces at the word ‘killed’ and I immediately kick myself under the table.

  “Will, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. I know you and Sam were friends.” Not knowing what else to do I poke at my now cold pizza a few times then shove the plate away.

  “He was my best friend,” Will whispers, eyes lowered.

  Fresh guilt eats through me. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” He gets up from the table taking my plate away.

  “What are you doing?” I stare after him as he puts my pizza back into the microwave to reheat.

  “You should eat.” At the ding he brings my plate of food back over. Confused, I stare at him as he resumes his position at the other side of the table.

  I don’t get this guy. One minute he’s stalking me, then he’s breaking into my house, then he’s yelling at me in alleyways, and now he’s—feeding me?

  My stomach growls involuntarily at the smell of the pizza. He smiles.

  “Do you want some? There’s more in the fridge.” After my comment about Sam’s death the least I can do is offer him something to eat. “I can make you a plate.” The sliding of my chair entices my stomach to growl in protest at leaving my food.

  Will laughs as he gets up motioning for me to stay seated. “At the risk of you eating it before it makes it back to the table I’ll get it myself.”

  I smile a little embarrassed. “The plates are in the cabinet above the microwave…if there’s any left unbroken.” I take a bite of my pizza thinking about how strange this night’s been. I go from fighting with a guy, who I’ve never met before tonight, but somehow still knew on some level because of Sam, to having dinner with him in my kitchen. I sneak a glance at him as he reaches into the fridge where the light gleams off a dark wet spot on the back of his head.

  “Oh God, Will, you’re bleeding.” Suddenly I feel sick. My thoughts go back to when his head hit the pavement of the walkway. My pizza inches its way back up. “I did this. It’s my fault you’re hurt. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Head wounds always look way worse than what they actually are.” He sits back down at the table with a plate of cold pizza and a can of soda. “I’ll be fine. I heal fast. Besides, it’s not even bleeding anymore. I might have gotten some blood on the sofa though.”

  “I don’t care about the sofa.” I scoot my chair out. “I think there’s a first aid kit upstairs.”

  He dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. “It’s not necessary. I told you, I heal fast.”

  Like I do now? I wonder.

  Maybe it’s an Order thing. Maybe they all have special powers and I do too now that Sam’s marked me. Will takes a bite of pizza dribbling sauce down his chin. He wipes it away with the back of his hand then proceeds to wipe his hand on his jeans as he downs half a can of soda. When he’s done chugging he sits the can back down with a loud burp. Too bad manners aren’t one of his super powers.

  “Does everyone in The Order have super abilities?” I ask.

  Will smiles. “We don’t run around in capes if that’s what you mean.”

  A mental image of Will in a spandex suit with a billowing cape flashes through my mind bringing just a hint of a smile to my lips. “No, that’s not what I mean. Since I got this symbol strange things have been happening to me. I heal fast. I have increased strength and speed. Before I was a klutz. Now I’m not. I saw the way you caught that man’s coffee earlier outside of Lola’s so I suspect that you have abilities too. Am I right?”

  Deep in thought, two eyebrows furrow together. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms over his chest. “I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this outside of The Order, but given that you were marked, I guess it kind of makes you one of us now, so what the hell. I do have abilities. We all do. Everyone has the basics such as healing, speed, strength, precision, and then some of us have more. Like you.”

  “Like me?”

  Will takes the plates from the table, carrying them over to the sink. “The way you tossed me outside without having to touch me and the way you were moving things around the kitchen, that’s telekinesis.” He pulls a fresh dishcloth and towel from the drawer. “I’ll wash. You dry,” he says, tossing me the dishtowel.

  “You don’t have to do my dishes you know.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s habit.” He washes a plate then hands it to me dripping water onto the toe of my Converse. “Sam is—was—my best friend. I owe it to him to help you figure this out. There’s a reason he marked you. We just have to figure out what that is. So start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Headlights filter through the gap in the curtains, travelling across the far wall before disappearing. I stand at the edge, pulling back the fabric just a smidge to look out. Jared pulls in across the street. Hopping out of his yellow jeep, he slams the door shut then just stands there. After a few seconds he walks towards his house, then stops. Turning around he walks to the edge of his driveway.

  My heart accelerates at the thought of him coming over. Hope takes root in the possibility that we can make up, go back to how it was before, and forget about everything else. There’s so much I want to tell him, but more importantly, I miss him.

  Two minutes pass. He doesn’t move. Dread slips in strangling the hope I’m so desperately holding onto. He stares at my house and I start to wonder if he can see me staring back. But of course he can’t. It’s dark and I’ve barely moved the curtain enough for me to see out let alone for him to see in. He shakes his head side to side. All hope dies as he turns away from my house in favor of his own.

  “Tell me again exactly what happened with you and Sam in the alley. Tell me everything he said and leave nothing out.” I sigh, turning
back to Will. He’s sitting on the sofa trying to wrap his head around the crazy story I’ve just told him of what’s been happening in my life this past week.

  Taking a deep breath that’s mixed with a sigh at having to repeat this horrible story again, I sit down beside him. “Some crazy blonde guy attacked him and for some unknown reason he left me untouched. Sam was bleeding out and he kept asking me to help so I was trying to by keeping pressure on his wound. But there was so much blood and I knew that if I didn’t leave to get more help soon he’d…” I look at Will and take a breath not finishing my sentence. “So I told him to keep pressure on his wound and that I’d be back, but when I tried to leave he grabbed my wrist and said, “No time you have to find” then he trailed off a bit before saying, “I’m sorry”. After that everything went white and I woke up in the hospital days later with this.” I point at the symbol on my wrist.

  Will shifts in his seat. I know it has to be killing him to hear how his best friend died over and over again so I don’t understand why he keeps making me repeat it. “And you didn’t get a good look at Blondie when he fled?” Will asks using the nickname I gave Sam’s killer.

  “No,” I lie. Again. I don’t know why I’m lying. I don’t know why I’m not telling him everything about Blondie. Not his black eyes, not the dreams, none of it, even though I know I should. Even though he has a right to know. Regardless, I just can’t bring myself to do it. He’s hurting right now and I don’t want him going after Blondie half-cocked getting himself killed. Maybe it’s Sam influencing me, I don’t know, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to Will. I want to protect him.

  Will spaces out, disappearing somewhere in his head.

  I stare at the symbol thinking about all the pain that led to my getting branded with it. “Is there a way to remove it?”

  Will looks down at the symbol. “No. It can only be removed once you find what Sam wants you to find.”