Marked

by A.N. Meade

face change. A storm raged in his eyes.

  He lost control. He hit her across her right cheek. The blow fell hard. It drove her head back against the tree. She cried out in pain. It dropped her to her knees. His ring had ripped through her skin. It was a black onyx ring, set in gold, and bore the emblem of his family. The wound stung and began to bleed. “You bitch! How could you do that to your own child?”

  She stood up, screaming. “It was not mine! Nothing was mine. It was the spawn of a monster, and I hated every second that I felt it growing inside of me.”

  He raised his hand to hit her again, but stopped himself.

  She wiped the blood from her face and continued. “I hate you. Leave. Go back to the coven in Europe. We can yet find peace apart from one another.”

  “You will find no peace apart from me.”

  Aimee woke up suddenly with a gasp for air, sitting up in bed. She saw Liam walking into the room behind Marc. She knew that it must be something serious. She could still feel the sting on her face where Damian had struck her. She wiped her cheek and looked at her hand, expecting to see blood.

  “Aimee, are you alright?”

  “Just another bad dream.” She tried to reassure Marc. Worrying him would do no good. She could see it in his eyes that something big was happening. “Liam would like to ask you some questions.”

  The idea of discussing things was a little scary in itself, but Marc must think that it had to be done, or he would not have asked. He sat beside her at the head of the bed, his arms around her. Liam sat at the foot of the bed, facing them. “I need to know what you saw the night that you died. I need to know every detail. Do not leave out anything, even if it seems unimportant.”

  Aimee nodded in understanding. Some things would be hard for Marc to hear, but Aimee would be glad for him to know the truth. She took a second to compose herself, and then she began to retell the story. She closed her eyes. “It’s sometime in the afternoon. Dacian is coming home today. I’m in our room. He locks me in every time he leaves, like an animal. I want to get out. I want to be free. I can hear the birds outside my window. I can hear the rush of the ocean, and the waves beating on the rocks beneath the castle.

  My thoughts are interrupted. I can feel it moving inside of me. You’re supposed to be happy when you’re with child. I’m not. It’s just another manifestation of his invasion. He’ll know soon. It will be just one more thing for him to torment me with. I hate it, almost as much as I hate him. It’s all too overwhelming. I jump. I felt free for once. I wasn’t afraid. I actually enjoyed the fall, and then the water engulfed me. I can feel arms around my waist, pulling me down, under the waves. They are small arms, but they are strong, the arms of a woman. She has blonde hair, and amazing green eyes. She’s comforting to me. She welcomes me as a sister. I think that she understands my pain. I want to stay with her, but as the sky grows dark, casting darkness over the water, I feel her being drawn upward. I follow her. I don’t want to, but I am compelled to reach the shore, and so I follow her. We pull ourselves out of the water and crawl up the steep hill to the castle. We walked down the corridors, following the sound of Dacian’s voice. Her feet left wet foot prints with each step, as she walked ahead of me.

  Dacian is arguing with other men. They say that I’m damned. They refuse to give me a Christian funeral. He murders them all. He cut down each one brutally. When all the priests are dead, he collects their blood and used it to mark out a circle around the altar. My body is lying there. I look peaceful. I could almost gloat. I found a way to take back my power. I was free of him. He was leaning over me, saying something. It sounded like a prayer of some sort. He mixed a paste from herbs and ash from the fire and pressed it onto my forehead with his thumb. He kissed my face. I was so happy that I couldn’t feel it.

  Next, he stepped back. He walked purposefully from one part of the circle to the next. He stopped across from the altar and poured a handful of dirt from a glass. It fell slowly through his fingertips. “Spirits of the North, Old ones of the Earth, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones.”

  Walking counter clockwise, he stopped to pour water onto the old stone floor. “Old ones of the West, Spirits of Water, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones.”

  Continuing around the circle, again Dacian stopped. He lit a candle, “Old ones of the South, Spirits of Fire. I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers, Mighty Ones.”

  One last time, he walked around the circle, at the window he stood still and spoke. “Old ones of the East, Spirits of the Air, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones.”

  The wind began to howl violently through the window. The earth and water had begun to circle on the floor and travel upward, winding. In a moment, the wind stopped, the candle blew out, and the earth and water fell to the floor. Even in the darkness he continued to speak.

  “By the earth that is her body

  By the air that is her breath

  By the fire of her spirit

  By the waters of her womb

  As above, so below,

  The circle is made whole.

  My wife was taken in tragedy. I need guidance. Guiding spirits I ask your empathy, lend me your focus and your clarity. Lead me to what I need to find. Restore to me that which is mine.”

  Even the candles outside the circle had gone out from the force of a great wind. It was dark, and the air was heavy. The woman from the sea stands just outside the circle. Her hair is still dripping wet. I don’t think she can reach him. She looks like she could kill him.”

  Aimee looked up at Liam. This was so hard to do. She knew that these memories were past, that it was over, but it still felt so real to her even hundreds of years later. Marc ran his hand up and down her forearm. It meant a lot to her to have him here. He hadn’t found a way to protect her from Damian, but she knew he was trying, and she loved him all the more for it.

  Recalling the events of her past life was painful, but renewed by the comfort that she had in Marc, Aimee continued in describing every detail to Liam. “A voice begins to speak. It is low, like the voice of a man, but it carries a strange echo. There is power in the words, controlled force.

  “Dacian, why have you called me here?”

  “I am Zaebos, the Grand Count of Hell. I govern the thirty legions of spirits and cause the love of women to men, and men to women.”

  The figure emerged from the darkness. He appeared dressed in black from head to toe. He walked with confidence, and had a bit of noble swagger. He wore a ducal crown upon his head, and on his back was a great sword with intricate flames etched into the blade. He was handsome, but with haunting eyes. Despite is gallant, and seemingly gentle disposition, I was very afraid, and trembled as he continued to speak.

  “I have called on you because something of mine was taken. I want it back.”

  “I know what you seek. You’ve lost something very precious to you. I can bring her back.” A smile swept across his face, “for a price.”

  “I can pay you whatever you want.” Dacian answered.

  “I can bring her back to you. I will mark her for you; follow her, through her rebirths.” The man walked toward him, slowly, along the outer edge of the circle.

  “How would I know her in another lifetime?”

  “You will not die. I have a proposition for you, great warrior. I offer immortality. You will be able to gather your own army, a powerful, eternal army.”

  “For what purpose?” Dacian asked.

  “The same as you have followed for yourself for all this time, for power, and for territory.”

  “Then what is it that you stand to gain?”

  The man was proud to answer. He spoke clearly, with his head held high. “Your immortality has its own cost. You will feed on the weak. You will build your empire on their bodies. You will have power unimaginable, but you will serve my hunger. Take back your woman, dest
roy your enemies, but your soul will be mine, and those of your conquests.”

  “How do you benefit in giving me such power?”

  The man continued to smile. “I like to see the strong destroy that which is too feeble to stand on its own. You are a born leader, the perfect commander for such an army.”

  “I see, but I must be willing to accept this “gift.””

  The demon laughed. “Ah, yes.” He motioned toward me. “How important is it to you to hang onto this pretty creature?”

  Dacian thought about it, looking over toward me. He paused but a moment, and then he accepted the demon’s offer. “I will serve you well.”

  The dark, shadowy figure approached Dacian. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he tilted his head back, and bit deep into his throat. The blood ran down his body, then, he drew his sword, and with its blade, he opened his forearm letting blood pour onto Dacian’s limp body. It ran down his face and over the wound on his throat. His body convulsed violently. He dropped to his knees, his head bowed to the floor.

  “Rise, human, you are no longer mortal.” Wiping the blood from his face, the Demon approached the altar, he put his hands over my body. I could feel the weight of it on my chest. “Adeo mihi, filia of vir. Come to me, Daughter of Man.”

  I fought him as much as I could, but he was pulling me back toward my body. The woman rushed toward him.

  He looked back at us, like he could see us. “Back sea