Daemons in the Mist (The Marked Ones Trilogy: Book One)

by Vancil, Alicia Kat

  3

  Parallel Universe

  Monday, January 9th

  NUALLA

  “So who are you going to ask to the Winter Ball?” Nikki asked, staring out at the students around the atrium.

  “I already have a date,” I replied as I flicked through Facebook on my tablet. I was trying to see if Patrick was in any of the pictures I had taken in the last four years. Maybe he was like a vampire and wouldn’t show up in photos. That would explain a lot, really.

  “Really? Who?” Nikki asked, soda halfway to her mouth.

  “Patrick Connolly,” I answered still flipping through pictures.

  “Who?”

  I pointed across the atrium to Patrick. “Him.”

  “Never seen him before, he a new student or something?” Nikki asked as she looked curiously at Patrick.

  I gave up flipping through the photos and rested my chin on my hand. “No, apparently he’s been here all four years—which is odd because I can’t remember ever seeing him before today. Hell, even Mr. Savenrue didn’t remember him, and Patrick’s in one of his classes.”

  Nikki stared at me in disbelief. “What?”

  “Yeah it’s weird, he’s in a lot of my classes, but I can’t remember seeing him before today.”

  “That is kinda weird. Hey wait, when did this happen?”

  “In the hall right before Chem. Michael was trying to make me go to the dance with him and Patrick stepped in.”

  “So he saved you from Michael?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn he’s good,” Nikki said, with a choking laugh. “You should keep him around; Michael repellent is always a good thing to have.”

  “Ya think?” I said sarcastically.

  “Though it was your damn fault for dating Michael in the first—”

  “Hey, you said you wouldn’t pick on me for that anymore!” I said, pushing her.

  “Sorry, it’s just so hilarious how badly you frakked up there.”

  “I know I did, so please stop reminding me,” I sighed in exasperation. It was nice to see that my screw-ups made for an endlessly entertaining spectacle for my family.

  I poked at my lunch as I looked out at Patrick. “What nationality do you think he is?”

  “A mix,” Nikki replied without much thought.

  “Well yeah, I figured that much, but a mix of what?” I asked as I turned my eyes away from Patrick to Nikki.

  “My bet’s on some European and Asian,” Nikki answered after staring at him a few seconds longer.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right, Nikki,” I agreed, turning back to look at Patrick.

  “He’s really hot.”

  “Most definitely,” I agreed over my can of soda. Nikki nudged me, and we both burst into giggles.

  “So ladies, what’re we talking about today?” Shawn asked as he leaned between us with his tray of food.

  “Nualla’s date to Winter Ball.”

  “Really, who is it this time?” Shawn asked, sliding onto the bench next to us.

  “Patrick Connolly,” I answered, jabbing a fork at my lunch.

  Shawn paused, his burrito less than an inch from his mouth “Who?”

  “Him,” Nikki said, pointing at Patrick.

  Shawn looked over at Patrick, burrito still a few inches from his mouth. “Never seen him before; he new?”

  “See what I mean? It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere,” I said, throwing my fork down. This was starting to get really weird, and that’s saying a lot coming from people like us.

  “Maybe he’s here from a parallel universe and just doesn’t know it yet,” Nikki said, looking at Patrick curiously.

  “Nikki, I think you’ve been watching too much of the SyFy channel,” Shawn said, gesturing at her with his lunch.

  “Hey, you watch it too!” she snapped back indignantly.

  PATRICK

  “That Galathea girl is checking you out,” Connor said, in complete disbelief as he looked past me.

  “Really?” I looked up, and sure enough Nualla and her cousin were looking at us—at me more specifically. Nualla was sitting with Nikki and Shawn, the pale January light making them look even paler. Like a handful of students at Bayside Academy, they seemed unusually pale even for foggy SF. They were all extremely pale, not in the chalky vampire sort of way, but in that I’m-Irish-and-have-always-lived-in-Seattle kind of way.

  I scooted around the circular picnic table nonchalantly to be able to better look at Nualla without actually appearing to be going out of my way to look at her. As I did, Beatrice scooted to fill my spot without her eyes ever leaving the book in her hands.

  “Wonder who she’s going with to the dance this time?” Connor said, between bites of his lunch. This speculation had been torture in past years but not anymore, because I knew who she was going with this time.

  “Me.”

  “In your dreams, dude,” Connor said, rolling his eyes.

  I pulled my eyes away from Nualla to look at Connor. “No seriously, I’m taking her to the dance.”

  Connor pointed at me with a french fry. “You’re full of it.”

  “I am not!”

  “He’s telling the truth, I heard Tara Spellman talking about it in third period,” Beatrice said, without looking up as she pushed her black cat-eyed glasses back up her small nose.

  “How did she know about it? I just asked Nualla second period!” I asked, incredulously.

  “She overheard you guys on the way to the restroom.” Beatrice took a sip of soda, almond eyes still firmly fixed on her book. She was always reading a book—always. I had never seen Beatrice outside of class without one in all the years I had known her.

  “Wait, I want to know how you ended up asking her to the dance. I mean have you even talked to her once in the last four years?” Connor asked as he looked at me skeptically.

  “Um, actually…no,” I admitted to my lunch tray.

  “So…” Connor said, leaning in.

  “Well, that prick Michael was trying to bully her into going with him to the dance. So I stepped in and told Mr. Savenrue I was taking her.”

  “Wait, why was Mr. Savenrue there?” Connor asked in confusion.

  “He came down the hall and saw me and Michael arguing. He scolded Michael and took him off to the Dean’s office, and sent me and Nualla to class.”

  “Oh man, seriously? I would have paid to see that!” Connor said, laughing.

  “Paid to see what?” Jenny, one of our other usual table mates, asked as she walked up with Sara. They placed their lunch trays on the table and sat down.

  “Mr. Savenrue berate Michael and haul him off to the office,” Connor answered, barely containing his laughter.

  “What did Michael do?” Sara asked, before biting into an apple.

  “He was demanding Nualla Galathea go with him to the Winter Ball, but she’s already going with Patrick,” Beatrice answered, over the top of her book.

  “Really?” Sara said, nearly choking on a bite of apple, her pale green eyes wide with disbelief.

  “Well actually I asked her after I told him she was already going with me,” I admitted, running my hand through my hair.

  “Well played man, well played,” Connor said, clapping me on the shoulder. “That was a gamble you could have lost spectacularly.”

  “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” I said, with a self-deprecating smile.

  “Oh, but I was—” Jenny sputtered, a piece of Caesar salad halfway to her mouth. Then her ice blue eyes narrowed. “Wait, I thought you had never talked to her?”

  “Well no, not before today at least.” Geez, if even my friends didn’t believe me how was anyone else ever going to?

  “A
nd she said yes?” Jenny asked, in complete disbelief.

  “Of course she did. She had the choice between Michael and Patrick. Who the hell do you think she would pick?” Connor said, gesturing to me.

  “Thanks Connor, that’s not really a winning endorsement you know,” I said, flatly.

  Sometimes I thought I must just be a joke to my friends. I really couldn’t blame them though; I had been pining for a girl who was way out of my league for the last four years. But now that I had a shot with her—albeit a slight shot—I was at a loss as to what I should do. I had to play my cards just right, or I was going to go down in flames.

  “So you were late to class because you we asking her?” Sara asked, looking at me inquiringly.

  “Yeah, among other things,” I answered, looking out across the atrium toward Nualla.

  “That’s right, she’s your Chem partner now too, huh?” Connor said as he nudged me.

  “Yep,” I answered with a huge grin.

  “Bet you’re really glad now you didn’t take Field Biology,” Beatrice said, smirking over her book.

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Biology!” Jenny said, indignantly.

  “Yeah, but in Chem you get to blow things up,” Connor pointed out as he demonstrated an explosion with his hands.

  4

  Pictures of You

  Monday, January 9th

  PATRICK

  When I got home I finally gave myself permission to freak out. I spent a good solid hour staring at my ceiling in shock. I had actually gotten up the courage to ask Nualla Galathea out, and even more shocking she had actually said yes. I had spent so long wishing that this would happen I hadn’t given much thought to what I would do if it actually did. If there was a higher power out there, they were probably laughing their ass off at me.

  And then the panic set in—and the self-doubt.

  What if it wasn’t real? What if I had hallucinated the whole thing? What if some part of my brain had just snapped? I mean, I had been feeling really ill as I walked toward them in the hall. What if I were actually in a hospital somewhere in a coma?

  And even if it was all real, there were so many ways this could go wrong it wasn’t even funny. It wasn’t as if I had dated a whole lot of girls and would know what I was supposed to do. Knowing my luck I was probably going to manage to fuck things up in the first five minutes of our date.

  I tried to calm myself. Just play it cool Patrick, it’s not like you’re dating her or anything. You’re just going to one dance.

  But what if we were dating now? Should I change my Facebook status? No…best to wait until she does. But what if she’s waiting for me to change mine first?

  I jumped up and all but ran to my computer. It would probably be a good idea to at least add her as a friend. I looked at my page, and there was already a friend request from her. I don’t think I had ever clicked a confirm button so fast in my life. But then I just sat there staring at the screen. What was I supposed to do now?

  I decided to just roll with the punches; I mean what was the worst that could happen?

  NUALLA

  A few hours of online investigation had turned up quite a lot about Patrick Connolly; the boy practically lived his life online. Forum posts, videos, pictures, and social media up the wazoo. He seemed to take pictures of everything around him, and I had to admit I was a little envious of how freely he could share his life with others. I, on the other hand, had to keep most of the things about myself private, hidden, secret. Like a CIA agent or a superhero, but without the awesome costume or badge.

  The pictures told me what he liked to do, who he liked to hang out with and how unbelievably geeky he truly was. But the pictures also told me more about him than he probably ever intended.

  One: he was most likely an only child with parents who worked too much. Even though he had a crap ton of pictures, his family was strangely absent from all of them. Other than his friends that sat with him at lunch he didn’t seem to be close to anyone else. Sure, there were other people in the pictures he took, but they all seemed to be just random strangers in even stranger costumes at some kind of event.

  Two: I was pretty sure he had never left the Bay Area in his life. As far as I could tell every single picture was of somewhere in the greater Bay Area, which to me seemed a bit odd and only reinforced my previous deduction that he had busy parents who probably didn’t like to go on “family trips.”

  Three: he was an incredibly good artist. What he couldn’t take pictures of, he seemed to draw or paint instead. I found hundreds of images of everything from the mundane to the fantastic. Precisely captured or quickly expressed, but all of them beautiful.

  The more I learned about him, the more I wondered how in the hell he didn’t already have girls lined up around the block to date him. Their loss I guess.

  It was when I was watching the same videos of him for the third time in a row that I had to admit I was entering creepy stalker territory. I finally made myself step away from the computer and go to bed. But that didn’t help me stop thinking about him as I drifted off to sleep. I didn’t know why he had just suddenly appeared in my life, but I was extremely glad he had.

  5

  A Thousand Different Ways

  Friday, January 13th

  PATRICK

  The rest of the week was—awesome. Connor stopped getting on my case for staring at Nualla, and when I saw Michael in the hall I was pretty sure he loathed me, which just made me grin like an idiot. Best of all, Nualla talked to me in class as if we had always talked; like we had always been friends. I was so thrilled I didn’t even think to ask about her complete obliviousness to my existence for the last three years.

  The more I talked to her, the less nervous about the whole thing I felt. It was like just being near her was putting me at ease. And this just made me stare at her all the more, which was how I finally got a good look at the pendant she always wore. It was a weird sort of silver circular pendant a little bigger than a quarter. It looked Egyptian with a gazelle horned deity, her hands held outstretched at her sides, a small crescent moon resting between her horns. A deep lapis blue enameled background covered with tiny silver stars, filled the space behind her, and a larger crescent encircled the whole design. An inscription ran across the outer crescent, but the symbols didn’t look Egyptian; they looked like something else—something I could almost remember.

  “That’s a cool pendant,” I said as we worked on the day’s assignment in Mr. Lucas’ class.

  “Thanks,” Nualla answered with a nervous smile.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “My…my dad gave it to me when I was little,” she answered, a flicker of unease crossing her face.

  “My mom gave me a pendant too.”

  “Really?” Nualla asked, looking at my bare neck.

  “But I seem to have lost it this week.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, and now it feels a little weird since I’ve been wearing it as long as I can remember. And I still haven’t told—” I cut off mid sentence when Mr. Lucas’ gaze drifted in our direction.

  We studiously went back to work on the assignment, but I couldn’t help but notice how Nualla kept unconsciously rubbing her fingers over the surface of her pendant. And I realized with a start that I had done it again. This whole week I had found myself answering all kinds of things about myself, but still learning very little about her. And even though I had spent hours looking online, I hadn’t learned a whole lot from her Facebook page.

  Sure, there were photos, but not a whole lot, and nothing that really revealed that much about her that I didn’t already know. I couldn’t believe that she didn’t lead an interesting life, so why didn’t she post any of it? It almost seemed like the bits that were online were just for show. Maybe her parents c
hecked up on her, and she didn’t want them to see what she was up to or something.

  So all I had to go on was what I had learned from just observing her in class. A lot of little things that added up to a very interesting picture—well at least to me anyways. Her favorite color was blue, she adored cats, and she had a fondness for big black boots. She hated having to pull her hair back for Chem class, and she drank coffee to an almost obsessive level. And a thousand other little quirks that made me adore her just that much more. But mostly I had learned that there was something different about her, something hiding behind those eyes. She gave herself away in a thousand different ways each day; I just didn’t know yet what all the pieces meant.

  6

  Let’s Get Out of This Town

  Friday, January 13th

  NUALLA

  As Nikki and I walked down the street from the coffee shop it had started to rain, making the ground on Powell Street slick. We had nearly finished walking down the steepest part when I slipped. Instinctually my lightning-fast reflexes kicked in, and I landed in a comfortable crouch not a drop of coffee spilled. I looked around without moving my head. Dozens of people were flat out gawking at me.

  Great, just great.

  A guy just behind us, pizza in hand, spoke first. “Jesus girl, are you a gymnast or something?”

  Nikki grabbed my arm pulling me to my feet and flashed a radiant smile at the guy. I could feel her influence hit him like a Mack truck. “No, she’s a martial arts champion.”

  The guy must have bought the story because he smiled and continued walking down the street.

  “Martial arts champion?” I said, questioningly.