“What kind of person doesn’t die?” she asked, and I could tell from her tone that she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe me. On one hand, what I was saying was insane. But, on the other, she did just watch me summon an archangel to disperse a murderous coven of witches. “What are you, a ghost or a vampire or something?”
“Ghosts are already dead,” I answered, turning onto the backroad that would send me through the river site and eventually to I-20. “And vampires can be killed. You just have to be creative about it.” I shook my head. “No, I’m sort of one of a kind.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means I’m done answering your questions,” I snapped. “Now, tell me what you know about what’s happening, or I swear I’ll drop you off here and let the witches have you.”
“I don’t know anything,” she answered.
I pulled my foot from the gas pedal, allowing the car to noticeably slow down.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” she sighed. “I needed something, something that couldn’t be acquired by normal methods. I had no idea what I was going to do, but then they found me. They said I had reached out to them in a dream or something, and that I was screaming for help. They said they could give me what I needed. I just had to do a small favor for them first.”
“In the future,” I snarled. “You should know that seducing someone so that you can drug and kidnap them is in no way considered a small favor.”
“I didn’t seduce you,” she answered, as if — out of everything — that was the part of the story that mattered. “You asked me out, remember? Besides, if I’d have known what they had in mind, there’s no way I’d have gone through with it.”
“You mean if you knew they were going to kill you too,” I clarified. “Can’t say there’s anything wrong with your sense of self preservation. You sense of common decency, on the other hand, that leaves something to be desired.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she answered, setting her jaw. “They told me that you had something that belonged to them, something they needed. They said you were a thief and a murderer, and that you deserved what they were going to do to you and much more.”
“I’m not a thief,” I said, leaving the other identifiers untouched.
“I believed what they told me.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to believe what they were telling me was true. It would make what they needed me to do easier. But then I got to know you, and I saw that you weren’t some horrible person. You were actually kind of okay.”
“Not ‘kind of okay’ enough to stop you from slipping something into my drink though,” I answered.
“It’s more complicated than that,” she answered.
“It always is,” I spit back. “Excuses are the currency of liars. I learned that a long time ago.”
“I did what I had to!” she yelled. “I did it to save…” She cleared her throat. “It was mine to do and I did it. I would do it again.”
“That’s the thing about sneaking up on someone, Merry. You can’t do it twice,” I said. “Now, answer the rest of my questions. Who are you really, and why can you see my scar?”
“I’m Meredith O’Dell,” she answered. “I was born in Charlotte, grew up in foster care, and — until very recently — wanted to be a singer.” She blinked hard. “And, I can see your scar because that’s the damn point of a scar! To be seen!”
“It’s not a scar,” I answered. “And it’s not visible to anyone, let alone some lying foster kid who doesn’t know when she’s getting played. There’s more to your story, and I want to know what it is.”
I looked over at her, and the way her face twisted told me I was right. She was hiding something, and if I wanted to know what it was, I was going to have to make her talk.
I had never been much for torture though, especially with women. And besides, I had learned centuries ago that the best way to get was to give. To get down to her truth, I was going to have to give her mine first.
“Do you remember what Gabriel called me back there?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and calm.
“Son of Adam,” Merry answered.
Good, somebody was paying attention.
“That’s the thing,” I answered. “I am.”
“You are what?” she asked. “The son of Adam? I figured as much.”
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Yeah, angels and demons and all of that. I figured that meant the whole ‘God’ thing was real. It stands to reason, you’re the son of Adam. We all are, right?”
I shook my head. “I mean, I guess,” I answered. “In the way that we’re all lucid or breathing. But that’s not what I mean. That’s not what Gabriel meant. I’m not some far removed descendent of the first man, Merry. I am the son of Adam. I’m the first person ever born of a woman. I’m the world’s first baby, the planet’s first big brother. And this mark on my face, it means something. It has a name, a very famous name. And it-”
Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened. I knew she was going to say it. I could practically see the words spilling out of her mouth. And I tried to stop her but, of course, I couldn’t.
“The Mark of Cain,” she breathed.
“No!” I yelled.
But it was too late.
A loud clap of thunder sounded in the sky, followed by a bolt of lightning stretching out from the heavens. It landed so close to us that I was sure it would fry us to a crisp. But it didn’t hit us.
Instead, it struck a large tree, sending a limb slamming down onto the road in front of us.
I tried to jerk the wheel and pull out of the way, but there was no use. I was going too fast to stop.
Instead, I slammed right into the mammoth branch,
I cursed under my break as I heard the glass of my windshield shatter and the metal of my hood crunch up against the wood.
So much for cherry.
15
“Any luck?” Merry asked me, sitting on the side of the road.
I had been elbow deep in busted engine parts and spewing motor oil for almost half an hour now. I didn’t know much about cars. Mostly because — when they were introduced — I thought they were a fad that would likely die out before I needed to get too familiar with them.
But, I knew a lot about this car. And I knew that, no matter how much I tinkered with her, she wasn’t moving right now.
“Oh yeah,” I answered, pulling my hands out and tossing the wrench I had pulled from the trunk onto the ground hard. “We’re on our way to Miami right now. Can’t you tell?”
“Don’t get pissy at me,” Merry scoffed. “I’m not the one who couldn’t so much as drive down the road without hitting a tiny little branch.”
I looked at her, bugged eyes and rising temperature. Then I turned back to the literally 500 pound log that had nearly killed us both.
“This is half a fucking tree, Merry!” I said, raising my hands and shaking my head. “And, the only reason we hit it is because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Right, because I said your name or whatever.” She seemed less than convinced. “That sounds like a stupid rule. Who made it up anyway?”
“God, Merry. God made it up. The same person who made up the tree and the lightning that hit it,” I said, slamming the hood shut. I had managed to push my poor convertible far enough away from the branch to be able to get a look at the damage. And, after making sure Merry wasn’t hurt, I’d spent the last few minutes working in vain to get us back on the move.
“How long until your uncle gets here,” Merry asked as I sat down next to her. That ‘murder’ feeling was still radiating off her like strong perfume in the wind, but I pushed it away. There was nothing I could do about that right now. Nothing except wait for the beer bellied cavalry to arrive.
“I’m his uncle,” I answered. “Well, sort of. And he said he’d be here as soon as he could. We’re a couple of hours a
way from Savannah and Andy’s never been a speed demon. It might be awhile.”
“Great. We’re sitting ducks.” Merry ran fingers through her hair. “I still say we should have called a taxi.”
“Where do you think you are?” I asked, looking around. “We’re on a backroad in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been stuck here for almost an hour now and we haven’t seen even one car pass by. Besides, even if we could manage to get a taxi out here, they’d want to call the police.”
“So?” She asked.
“That would leave a paper trail. If case you’ve forgotten, there’s a coven of witches after the both of us. I don’t want to give them any leads about where we’re going.”
“And where’s that?” Merry asked.
“I have a safe house,” I answered. “It’s not much, and you don’t need to know where it is. All you need to know is that you can stay there until I can figure all of this out.”
“You want to lock me inside some cabin?” she asked, standing up. “Hell no. I didn’t start all of this so that it could end like that.”
“End?” I asked, standing to meet her. “Why did you start this, Merry? Because I still haven’t gotten a straight answer from you.”
She breathed loud and set her jaw.
She wasn’t talking.
“When I was a kid, I did something stupid,” I said, folding my arms and picturing Abel lying in front of me in that field. There was a divot in his head that I had forced there with a rock. His blood stained the ground. His blood stained my hands. His blood, it was everywhere.
I cleared my throat and pressed on.
“And, because I did that, I was punished. I can never die. I can get hurt. I can want to die. I could even pray for it if I thought He was listening to me. But, it won’t ever come.”
“Life isn’t much of a punishment,” she answered quietly.
“It can be,” I said, almost looking past her. “My whole life, all my parents talked about was going back to Eden. It was paradise apparently, the place God made for men and women to live, before my mother messed the whole thing up.”
“I know what Eden is,” Merry answered. “And I know the story. Eve — your mom, I guess — she ate an apple she wasn’t supposed to. She got knowledge of good and evil and God kicked the both of them out.”
“More or less,” I confirmed. “But what that story doesn’t say is how much they wanted to get back in.” I shook my head, suddenly back there, on a brand new earth stranded right outside of Heaven itself. “That’s all we ever used to hear, Abe and me. Mother and Father used to tell us about this place where the food grew without effort, where the sun always shone without even a cloud to block it, and where they were always happy.” I cleared my throat. “And then, they told us we were never going to go back. Father did at least. Mother used to think we were always a day away from the Big Guy ushering us back into paradise.” I stared right into Merry’s eyes. “But, my mother was wrong. We weren’t a day away. We weren’t a lifetime away. She was wrong. She never did get back.”
“Maybe she did,” Merry said, reaching for my hand. “Maybe after-”
“Stop it,” I said, pulling away from her. “I didn’t tell you that story so you could hit me up with false platitudes and plastered on comfort. I did because you need to know something.”
“And what’s that?” Merry asked, her eyebrows darting up.
“I was born right outside of the best place anyone in the entire world has ever been. I grew up in the shadow of Eden, and even though I imagine my parents were happy to have me, I knew I’d never replace what they lost. I mean, how could I? And, if that wasn’t enough, it hurt when I was born. I brought pain into the world, and I got all that pain back. And then, I killed my brother and I brought death into the world.” I shook my head. “But I didn’t get death back, just more pain.”
“What are you trying to say?” Merry asked, looking me over.
“Whatever you’re running from, whatever you think is so big and bad that it ushered you into the arms of backstabbing witches, I want you to know I’ve run from worse.” I shook my head again. “Keep running if you want. All it gets you is tired.”
Merry looked up at the sky, like there might be answers there or something. Since I had done that about a thousand times in my endless life, it didn’t surprise me when she came up lacking.
What did surprise me, was what she said after that.
Pulling a photo from her pocket, she lifted it up to me. It featured a little girl with dark bangs and a missing front tooth. “This is Amber. She’s six years old. She’s my daughter. And she’s dying,” she said flatly.
“What?” I asked, muffling the surprise in my voice. “You have a kid.”
“It’s a chronic thing. Her kidneys are shutting down, and she won’t pull the year unless I can find her a donor, and not that I should have to tell anybody who’s even sorta watched Grey’s Anatomy, but kidneys are hard to come by.”
“I don’t-I don’t watch that,” I lied.
“Whatever,” she said. “The point is, I don’t have a lot of time, and my options were pretty limited.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Even if this little girl is yours and is dying — and honestly, I’m not sure whether to believe you or not at this point — what does that have to do with me? Magic can’t cure sickness, not real sickness anyway. If they told you that they could fix her, then I’m sorry, but they were talking out of their asses.”
“I know that!” she yelled. “Don’t you think I did my research? I know the only thing that’s going to save her is finding a match.” She shook her head. “And I’m not one.”
“Then it’s simple. Go to the kid’s dad,” I said.
“Not that simple,” she said, still looking up at the stars. “I wasn’t exactly in a relationship with Amber’s dad. I had been in Nashville for about year at that point, and regardless of what they try to tell you, country music’s not all that welcoming. At least, not to me anyway.” She shrugged. “He was running from something. I knew that much. And he was so damn handsome. I needed something to make me feel better, and he did. At least for a while.”
She finally took her gaze off the stars and turned it back to me.
“After I found out about the baby, I decided to leave Nashville behind. Amber’s father was long gone by that point, and I had no idea how to reach him. All I knew is that I needed something steadier, more stable, for when my daughter came. So, I went back home and enrolled in nursing school. That’s how I knew how to tend to you when I followed you into the ER that night. ”
“You could have just pretended to be my nurse,” I answered.
“People don’t listen to nurses. I had to make sure I actually made an impression with you.”
“But why?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“I’m getting to it,” Merry said. “Last year, after my daughter’s diagnosis, I started looking for her biological father. I was told that I wasn’t a match, and since I don’t have any family other than Amber, he was going to be her best bet. I looked for almost a year and found nothing. Then, a couple of months ago, I hired this guy, a private detective out of Durham. He tracked the guy’s family down here to Georgia, but then I hit a dead end. Everywhere I looked, I came up empty. And every time I told anyone her father’s last name, they refused to help me.” She blinked. “They said I needed to go, that looking for him wouldn’t end well for me.”
I glared at her, because I had been around the block more than a few times. Hell, I helped build the damn block. Something about this didn’t sound right, and I needed to find out what.
“What’s his last name, Merry?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
“Blancher,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
“Of course it is,” I answered, sighing loud and shaking my head. “There’s a reason people freak out when you tell them that name, Merry. It’s because he’s a-”
“Gypsy, I know,” Merry said, clicking her to
ngue.
“You do?” I asked, surprised by her answer. “I mean, they prefer Romani, but yeah. Blancher is a gypsy name. But not just any gypsies, they’re the-”
“I get it, Cai-Callum,” she said, narrowly missing another ‘name mention’ disaster. “They’re the Romani. They have gypsy magic. They move around a lot.”
“That’s not true actually,” I answered. “For the most part, the Romani stay in one place. Nowadays, anyway. It’s just, they’re not very social people. They don’t deal with outsiders, and to that end, they keep themselves magically hidden. You couldn’t find them even if you knew where to look. Not that you should. They’re nasty people, and they don’t play well with others. In fact, they don’t even marry outside of their own community. So, the fact that your daughter exists at all is-”
“Proof that her father was a man whore. An abomination to their way of life,” she answered. “I know all of this. I told you, I did research. The books told me as much.”
“Did the books tell you what the Romani does to half breeds?” I asked, setting my jaw. “Because it’s not pretty.”
“Is it worse than dying?” Merry asked, throwing her hand sin the air. “Because that’s what’s happening to her. And I’ve got exactly one way to stop it. The organ transplant lists was long. There are too many people and not enough organs to supply them. Whatever the cost, I have to pay it.”
I looked to the ground. “I know this is hard to believe, Merry. But there are worse things than death. Your daughter’s in pain. I’m sure. Maybe it’s time to let her g-”
“Do you have children, Callum?” she asked, daring me with her eyes.
“No,” I admitted. “No, I don’t.”
“Then, no offense, but you have no idea what I’m going through. And, while my decisions might sound stupid to you, they’re not open for debate.”
“Okay,” I said, a little impressed by her moxie. Not that I’d tell her that. “What part were the witches going to play in all of this?” I asked, trying not to look at her too hard. I hated this woman just ten minutes ago. After all, she had gotten me into my current situation. But how could I hate her now? Even if I wanted to, being harsh to the mother of a dying kid made me a dick. And I had spent too much of my life being a dick already. I didn’t want to go back there.
Mark of Cain (Immortal Mercenary Book 1) Page 10
