A Mark Unwilling

by Candace Wondrak

  Deb nods, wordlessly telling me it’s okay, even though it’s not.

  Eve and Josie walk into the hall, and the girl runs to me, hugging me. “I thought you left,” she whispers into me, digging her tiny face into the crook of my neck after I bend down to return the hug.

  “I’d never do that.” I’m about to promise it, but then I stop, because I can’t promise anything anymore, not now. The Devil watches me very closely as I talk with her. “Josie, take my mom and go back into the room. Play some Barbies.”

  My mom and the Devil exchange some heated glares as Josefina takes her hand and tugs her back into the room. Deb moves to close it, waiting a moment before turning to me. Her kind eyes are fraught with concern over David and, probably, me.

  “This is him,” she says faintly.

  “I am he,” he speaks behind me with a grin. Suddenly his arm hangs off my shoulder, and he fingers the fabric around my neck, making me gulp and stare at the floor. “We’re going to save your Warlock friend. It was her final wish, before I steal her away.” His fingers are now on my collar bone.

  Deb sends me a look that says I’m sorry and reaches into her jeans’ pocket. “You said he was trapped by a stone. Did it look like this?” She pulls out a small, round stone, almost identical to the one that got David in the shop.

  “Yes!” I say, pulling myself out of the Devil’s grasp, for now. “Exactly like that. How did you…”

  She stuffs the stone into her pocket. “I told you how I had no one to go back to? Well, it might not have been true.”

  My spirits fall. “Don’t tell me you’re about to betray me, too.” I can only handle so much in one day, you know? Losing David, getting shot by Mike, losing Mike, having my Mark activate and my otherworldly master here? Those things should have been spread out, not wham-bam-alakazam.

  “My…father has David.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “My father,” she repeats firmly, “he has David. He must have found out I was with you…he wants me back.” Deb bends her head down, eyes watering. “I thought I could say no and go on with my life, but I can’t. I have to go back. It’s the only—” Her dramatic, it’s-the-only-way speech is interrupted by a whole horde of Vampires, who flash into the hall, fangs bared at the Devil.

  I recognize most of them, and don’t want them to anger the man behind me, because I know he can take them all out easily. A switch, definitely.

  Cloud moves to the front of the pack, narrowing his stone-cold stare to the Devil. “You were not invited here.” Before I can react, he grabs me and puts me behind him, standing between the Devil and I. Deb is next to me, chewing the inside of her cheek in nervousness.

  The Devil smiles. Comparing him to Cloud is like comparing night and day. One tall, thin, yellow-haired man to a slightly shorter, muscular, black-haired man with a tan any surfer would be jealous of. If this was normal life, or a movie, and they weren’t supernatural beings, I’d be more than thrilled to have two guys fighting over me. It’s every girl’s dream, right? Get stuck in a messy, convoluted love triangle?

  It’s not, actually. I’m not a teenager. This stuff doesn’t thrill me.

  And neither of these men are in love with me.

  “Invitations are for those who desire permission,” he says, holding his hands behind his back, amused and bored at the same time. “And she’s mine. Touch her again and I’ll drag you and your entire nest to Hell. You puny parasites wouldn’t last long in the flames.”

  I jump between them before this can escalate further. “Now, now. Boys, children. This is not the time for a my-rock-is-better-than-yours contest.” I look at Cloud. “Thank you, but I’m not going to run from this. It’s pointless, just like it’s pointless for you guys to fight for me. Now, Deb and I have to save David. I know you’re not a fan of people with heartbeats, but can you please let my mom and Josefina stay here for a while, so we can play hero?”

  Cloud nods, never taking his eyes off the man behind me.

  “And you,” I turn to the Devil. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.” Holding a hand over my heart, I deadpan, “I wouldn’t dream of it. But please, do not egg on the Vampires. They have been very nice to let us stay here, even if they did kidnap us from the start. We’ve all been there.” A few of the Vampires apologize, but I ignore them.

  “Egg on?” he mimics me. “I see no eggs here.” The undead horde laughs; even Cloud manages a chuckle. He lifts a hand, fire forming on his fingertips, but I move in his way, placing myself in front of the growing fireball.

  “It means be nice,” I whisper, again adding, “please.”

  The fireball dissipates, and everyone in the hall relaxes a bit.

  Darren elbows Cloud. “I thought you said we’d be safe from hellions underground?”

  The Devil hears him and sneers a response: “I am no hellion. I am the Prince of Hell, and nothing can stop me.”

  Except, apparently and temporarily, me.

  Cue the special snowflake music—but only for a second, because we have work to do.

  At least it’s something to focus on, right?

  After making sure everyone is relatively calm, I take Deb to the kitchen area, which thankfully is empty, save for us and the Devil trailing me. We sit in the first table, across from each other, and for a moment, I simply stare at Deb, wondering if I misjudged her from the beginning.

  “So, care to explain?” I leave it at that, waiting.

  Deb shifts uncomfortably. It’s funny; beneath her freckles and red hair, she still looks innocent. “I…ran away.” She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  “Why?” Although, I couldn’t blame her if it was true. If I had a family as crazy as that, I would want to run away too.

  “In the beginning, they were just devout worshippers. They took Christianity and picked it apart, chose what pieces of the bible they liked. Made their own religion. Lately, ever since my drawings started and Father realized that they held prophetic value, they’ve been getting worse. They started planning things, bad things. I didn’t want to be a part of it, so I ran.”

  I find it hard to believe that they just let her go.

  She toys with her hands in her lap. “I was showing them where to trigger it.” Her light eyes fill with regret and tears. “I drew out the college campus. They knew where to start it because of me.” She covers her face with a trembling hand, whispering, “All those people died because of me.”

  “Why couldn’t you just not draw it out?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Her level of self-blame almost rivals mine. And hers, I think, is much more deserved.

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” she cried. “If I don’t, I get sick. I start to throw up. I seize. I have to draw it out. Doesn’t matter what I do it with, or how good the drawing is…I just have to get it out of me.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “What was the last thing you drew before you ran?”

  “I drew a picture of you.” Deb looks at me. “They all know what you look like.”

  “But the shooter—”

  “It was after that. I drew it the night I decided to run.” She tugs at the bottom of her shirt. “I had no idea I’d run into you, but when I did, I was scared at first. I thought you knew who you belonged to, that you knew that I’d run from the group trying to help him come here. But then…there was something in your eyes, in your voice. You didn’t know. You had no idea.” Deb sighs, adding, “I thought then that it was fate.”

  Now it made more sense, why she didn’t try to run when I took her with me. She had nowhere to run to, nothing to go back to, and a destiny to face with me, apparently. The end of the world just brings everyone together.

  The night she decided to run…I realize, suddenly. The cult’s hideout can’t be far from the university. She had no car, but she was walking fast, not tired yet.

  “And now they have David.”

  “We will get him back,” Deb says, firm, her teary gaze rising to meet mine. �
�I swear to you, I won’t let them hurt him. I’ll trade places with him, if that’s what they want.” She sniffs. “That’s probably all this is, anyway. They just want me back, my drawings.”

  Hand over Deb for David? I don’t like the sound of that plan. If they’re truly as nuts as Deb says—and from what I’ve witnessed, they are—neither of them should be in their clutches. No, we’d save David and keep Deb from their greedy, murderous hands.

  Since she knows them better, I sit back as I say, “I hope you have a plan.”

  She nods.

  Good, because for once, I don’t, and it doesn’t feel right.

  Chapter Seven

  A church towers over the area, surrounded by nothing but grass and a parking lot. It is, naturally, devoid of cars and other signs of Human life, as much of everything is after the appearance of the Horseman. And I was right: it was only forty minutes from campus.

  Deb stares at the pointed cross on the top for a long time. “It’s more than it looks. There’s whole buildings under here. All over there.” She gestures to the grassy field. “My family’s legacy.” She pauses. “I’m sure they’ve already seen us. They’re waiting to see what we do.”

  What are we going to do, you ask?

  Well, as someone who is horrible at making plans, as someone who marches into danger without thinking of the consequences, I plan to walk right on in and see where it goes. Deb thinks she can talk her father out of whatever his plans are for David, but I’m not holding my breath on that. I think we’re going to have to get in, find him, and portal out.

  Although, clearly something is stopping him from portalling out, otherwise he would have done it by now. Maybe silver or another trap stone.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks me, her soft voice shaking with fear. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I can do it alone.” Such a brave face for a scared girl.

  “I’m going in, for David,” I tell her. Also for her. She needs to let go of the past, to finally be free of her insane family/cult’s clutches.

  She isn’t surprised by my answer. “I can’t believe he’s letting you.”

  “And I can’t believe the butthead isn’t here to help.” I never expected his help, honestly. I’m not even sure if I would take it if he offered. But I did at least think he’d portal us here and not make us travel the distance after the Vamps covered our heads and took us out of the hideout, leaving us in a parking lot with a used, beat-up car. Hours wasted.

  Deb laughs quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone describe the Devil as a butthead before.”

  Sighing, I take a step out onto the blacktop, on the freshly-painted yellow lines. “I would swear, but it’s not really my thing.” I feel oddly calm, considering that we are probably walking headfirst into danger. It could be because I’m used to it by now, or it could be the new leather jacket that hugs my arms and hides my activated Mark. My bet is on the jacket.

  Deb is beside me, walking at a brisk pace. “I kind of figured that out. Once we get inside, let me do most of the talking. These people do not like getting insulted.” We reach the giant, wooden doors that look like they were lifted straight off a castle.

  “I take offense to that,” I say. “I don’t insult everyone.” She gives me a sharp look, and I zip my lips like a padlock.

  The small, prophetic girl pushes the doors open, and we enter the old church. Pews and pews of mahogany wood line the long church. A giant statue of Jesus Christ sits behind a podium and a stone chair. The colored glass panes on either side tell the story of his crucifixion; how he was condemned, fell numerous times, and was finally put to death. They are disconcertingly gory and realistic.

  “I know you’re there,” Deb says. “You can come out.”

  Men clothed in robes rise from the pews, and I nearly have a heart attack as they surround us. Creepy. Very creepy. So creepy that I…whatever smart thought is about to form disappears when I see the robes and faces of the men wearing them. The cross tattoo. They each have one.

  Deb’s father is the man in charge of this cult. I really should have known that he was, because my life is just full of strange coincidences. It, somehow, didn’t surprise me when she told me that. All I did was shrug it off at the time and ask her what we had to do to get David back, but now…now I feel the urgency here.

  “The prodigal one returns,” one speaks, venomous with hints of sarcasm, and the rest of the men lower their hoods. “Father will be overjoyed.” Somehow, I’m not believing him, there. He turns his brown, beady eyes to me. “And you brought her…how did you do it? Father said she was protected by…him.” Every pair of eyes studies me, and I feel like I walked into a speech wearing nothing but my underwear.

  “When he arrived, she bored him,” Deb answers before I get a chance to say differently. “He did not want her. She is broken and—” She shoots me a look. “—disappointed.”

  I get the hint. I frown, letting my hair fall in my face. I say what I think the cultists want to hear: “My soul is innocent, but my physical form is…” I trail off, sniffing, pretending to be unable to finish.

  The one who addressed Deb first nods. “The maidens are usually blonde, yes.”

  I hold back my fists, which suddenly have a mind to go one-on-one with his face.

  “Will you bring us to Father?” Deb asks, and I find it so very odd how they all refer to him only as Father. Were all they all siblings? Somehow I don’t think so.

  “Come,” the man says, smiling. He seems to be younger; close to Deb and mine’s age. His face is riddled with acne scars, and as we follow him around the statue of Jesus, I can’t help but wonder if he had many friends in high school. Did he even go to high school? Did any of these people?

  Who knows. Who cares. Not me. Too worried about David to commit to my wonderings.

  Deb and I share a look as we walk down a spiral staircase. The group of hooded cultists are behind us, and as we go further and further down, I realize that I haven’t seen any women cultists. That’s not a good sign, although cultists and good signs rarely go together.

  When the stairs finally end, we come into a granite hall. Unlike the Vampire hideout, this is decked out with windows simulating daylight, decorations that would make every fixer-upper couple of HGTV jealous, and even a map. The place is a lot bigger than it looks above ground.

  We pass a few rooms, and I see a group of cultists no older than ten sitting in desks while their teacher drones on about the coming age. The kids already have the cross tattoo on their foreheads. A few rooms down, I see a naked woman—blonde, of course—standing on a podium in front of a group of teenage boys.

  I poke Deb, and she dutifully ignores me. Did she not see what I just saw? That is too Children of the Corn for me.

  As we turn down another hall, I try to stop and go back. My nerves, freakishly, are shot. “Listen, guys. It’s been great, but—” A hand is clamped over my mouth, and I’m roughly shoved into a room. I fall to the sterile white floor. The door shuts behind me before I can get up and stop it.

  When I do get up, I see that there’s no knob on the inside.

  I push against the door, banging and shouting, but it doesn’t budge, and no one answers me, not even Deb. To say this isn’t good would be the understatement of the year, I think. I turn and study the room. A fake window, a bed, a dresser, a toilet and a sink. Nothing else. Everything is an ugly, irritating white.

  I shuffle to the bed, sitting on it, slumping. How well do I know Deb? Not well. I didn’t even know her father is the leader of this freaking cult before today’s events. Could she betray me? Yes, of course she could. Would she? No, I don’t think she would.

  Minutes blur into each other. A voice erupts on the loudspeakers. “Put on the purification garments.”

  I note the white dress on the bed beside me. Definitely not my color, but what do I have to lose? I shrug off my coat, slip out of my shirt and jeans after unzipping my boots, and get inside the boring white mess th
at is the so-called purification garment. With my feet bare, the Mark on the back of my ankles gets some air, as does the portion on my arms.

  “Follow the light on the floor.”

  I look down, see a line of red lighting up, and follow it to the door. The door slides open, and I walk through the halls, strangely empty, save for me, and turn where it tells me to, stopping in front of another room. What wonderful things are behind door number two?

  The door opens, and I step in. It closes behind me, and there’s no doubt in my mind that if I want to escape, I can’t. These people are prepared. Looks like they’ve been preparing for decades.

  The room I’m in now could be mistaken for a chapel. One pew. One sad statue of Jesus. An altar covered in white. A man kneels before it, his hands in the air as he prays. I cough, and he slowly stands, turning to me.

  Forty years old, greying beard with salt-and-pepper hair. Freckles dot his face. Instead of the typical robe, he wears a priest’s uniform. A tattoo, slightly more intricate than the others, sits on his forehead. “Please sit.”

  I move to the pew, sitting a foot in front of him.

  He holds his hands together, smiling. “What is your name, child?”

  “Lexa,” I say.

  “Lexa,” he says, “you were given a great gift—the opportunity to help our Lord usher in a new age.” He talks about the Devil as if he’s Jesus. I’m not very religious, but I don’t think that’s how this works. “And you failed.” He kneels before me, putting his hands on my knees. I resist the urge to smack him. “Do not fear, though. He has other plans for you. By bringing you here, we can cleanse you, purify you so that you can fail no more.” He’s about to go on, but I raise a hand. “Yes?”

  “Are you Father?”