Mark of Betrayal

by A. M. Hudson

  “Okay. I promise.”

  “Good. And just because I'm not going to give you a hard time, doesn’t mean I'm gonna go easy on him.”

  “No, that would be too much to ask for, wouldn’t it?” I remarked sourly.

  “Ara?” He leaned on the wall. “You know how much I hate that guy. Okay? So just let me be the protector, and you just be a good girl and live with it.”

  “No. You can treat Jason civilly, or I go back to being a pain in the arse.”

  “All right,” he huffed. “I’ll try to be civil. I’ll even spar with him at training today, how’s that sound?”

  “You know he can put you out, Mike, if you cross him? You better not try to hurt him.”

  “Hu!” He breathed. “You're worried about me hurting him? Where’s the loyalty?”

  “You don't need it. He does.”

  “Just because no one likes him.”

  “I like him.”

  “You worry me.” He pointed at me and walked away.

  After sparring with Ryder, and losing in front of the entire Guard, I sculled some water down with a couple of aspirin and sat back to watch Mike spar with Eric. They were a good match; Eric had years of experience in kickboxing, but Mike had brute strength and courage. They reminded me of lions in the wild, fighting over a kill, except, both of them were laughing and making comical observations about each other’s mums.

  I smiled up at Jason as he sat beside me on the bench by the mirrors, with Petey in tow.

  “Hey, Ara.”

  “Hey, Jase. Petey.” I scratched the dog’s head. “Haven’t seen him for a while.”

  “He comes and goes.” Jason shrugged. “Sometimes we don't see him for a couple of decades.”

  “Where does he go?”

  “No one knows, and it’s not like we can ask him, either.”

  “You can.”

  “Shh.” He looked around at a few knights standing nearby. “I rather people don’t know that.”

  “Oh. Okay. Why?”

  “Because they might try to use him as a spy.”

  “How?”

  “Kidnap you—threaten to torture you if I don't tell them everything the dog, who everyone talks openly around, knows.”

  “Oh. Right. Never thought of that.” As I sat back again, my blood ran cold, and I looked up with wide eyes. “Has Petey told you anything I've ever said to him?”

  Jason’s closed lips twitched, turning up a bit, while his eyes stayed forward. “Maybe.”

  “Aw, Petey!”

  Petey barked once over Jason’s laughter, and Mike looked up to the noise, copping Eric’s fist to the side of his head; he went down, hitting the sparring mat hard, Eric’s knee jamming into his skull in a knockout strike.

  The knights roared, some howling like wolves, others exchanging money.

  “Oops.” I shrunk a bit.

  “It wasn't your fault, Ara.” Jason stood up and peered over the crowd at Eric, propping his foot on Mike’s chest, his arms raised to the ceiling, flaunting his own victory. “I can’t believe Eric knocked him out.”

  I got to my feet, too. “Isn't someone gonna help him?”

  “I’ll go.” Jason took off on one foot, but Mike slowly rolled up to sit, rubbing his head.

  “Toughen up,” Eric said, offering a hand.

  “That was a lucky strike.” Mike stumbled to his feet and gave Eric a one-armed hug. “I pity the next guy to try that.”

  “I pity Ara.” Eric winked at me. “She’s the one who distracted you.”

  Mike threw me a vehement glare, wiping his face on a towel.

  “Sorry, Mike.”

  “S’okay, baby. I was just kidding.”

  “Good fight, man!” Jason slapped Eric’s palm, bumping shoulders with him as he came over.

  “Yeah.” Eric swiped blood off his lip. “Mike had that round ‘til the end there, though.”

  “And I’ll have the next one,” Mike said, then pointed at Jason. “Your turn, villain.”

  “Bring it on.” Jason flipped his chin in Mike’s direction.

  “Eager for another beating, are ya?” Mike took off to the centre of the room and stood waiting like a hungry wolf in a standoff.

  Jase just scoffed coolly, as if he didn't care, then rolled his spine, taking his shirt over his shoulders. “Keep hold of that for me.”

  “Sure,” I said, catching it.

  As he wandered over to Mike, flexing his fingers and wrists, my mind subconsciously compared the two; Mike, with his broad shoulders and huge arms, sweat covering his hairless chest in a fine layer, and Jason, who was half Mike’s bulk; his arms and back thin, but contoured nicely with definition, enough that my heart started a little faster.

  He turned to grin back at me, clearly having heard it. The rest of the immortals in the room kept their eyes forward, politely pretending not to have noticed.

  “Knock him dead, man,” Eric said playfully.

  “Hey, Ara?” Jase called over to me. “How ‘bout a good luck kis—”

  “Jase!” I leaped from my seat as Mike smashed his elbow into Jason’s head, sending him flying into the mirror; it cracked under Jason’s weight, his hand pressing hard to the glass as he found his balance and pushed off the wall, forcing himself back up to swing at Mike.

  “Nice try,” Mike said, ducking, and grabbed Jason’s waist, slamming him to the ground. All the knights rushed in, surrounding them, making a ring of bodies with barely a millimetre between shoulders.

  I stood on my toes, and Petey took off under the knights’ legs, barking loudly. The roars came in waves, the men wincing and waving their fists in the air.

  “I can't see,” I whinged, pushing at them.

  “Here, climb up.” Eric took my hand and helped me up onto the bench. “Better?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Don't mention it.”

  He stood with his arms folded then, feet slightly apart, watching the crowd of soldiers barking like animals, while I steadied myself with a hand to his shoulder, rising onto my toes to see over them. It was a mess of flesh and red, moving so fast I could only make out dark hair to blonde, until Mike caught Jase in a chokehold, sweeping his foot under the huddle, dragging them both to the ground.

  “Come on, Jase,” I said to myself.

  As if he heard me, Jase managed to disentangle his arm from under his ribs, and reached up, jamming his thumb into the soft flesh below Mike’s chin, sending him backward.

  “He’s got spirit,” I said, but as soon as the words left my mouth, Mike spun a really wicked roundhouse kick into Jason’s chest, which he blocked, only to receive a straight-cut jab to the skull that would’ve lobotomised a human. “Go for the balls, Jase!” I yelled, and several of the knights turned to look at me; I shrugged.

  “Ara?” Eric tugged my hand.

  “What?”

  “Don't watch anymore, kiddo.”

  “I have to. I have to make sure Jason’s okay.”

  “That's my point.” He cupped his hands under my arms and pulled me down to the ground. “Mike ruled that we can't use special abilities in sparring, and Jason’s nowhere near strong enough to beat him in a fair fight.” He nodded to the men exchanging more money. “We all know that.”

  I covered my mouth slowly. “Wait, how come he lets me use my static power then?”

  Eric smirked. “Exactly.”

  I frowned over at the heat cloud of sweaty bodies surrounding Mike and Jase. “So, what, he made that ruling on knights only?”

  “Uh-hu.”

  “But, Jason’s not a knight. Neither are you.”

  He nodded, his smirk growing. “That rule applies to whom and to when it suits Mike.”

  “So, this is just some lame excuse to beat the shit out of Jason?”

  Eric’s head whipped around to look at me. “I don't think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

  My teeth grinded in the back of my mouth, my fists tight. I charged forward, electricity flickering i
n my hands.

  “Ara.” Eric grabbed my shoulder. “Stay out of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you intervene, you may as well label Jason a pansy now. No, in fact, how ‘bout you tie a big pink ribbon around his chest and call him Mary-Anne.”

  “I don't care about his reputation, Eric. Someone has to help him.”

  He dropped back from his lean toward me. “I’ll step in soon, okay. If it gets much worse.”

  “Why can you step in but not me?”

  “’Cause I'm a guy, Ara.”

  I scratched my head and looked at Jason, on the floor—just able to see his hair through the legs of a knight. He was beaten bloody, weak, and still trying to finish the fight.

  I couldn’t watch him get hit again. “Fine. I have a headache from Mike forcing me to zap things today, anyway. I need to go rest.”

  “Okay.” Eric nodded and smiled, keeping his eyes on the fight as I wandered away. “Oh, and Ara?”

  “Yeah?”

  He held his arm out; I folded into his embrace, frowning while he hugged me tightly.

  “What was that for?” I asked, stepping back.

  He shrugged. “Just because.”

  “O...kay,” I said, and walked away again. As I made it to the doors, the knights’ roar of disgust barely masked the sound of something wet splashing across the floor. I walked faster. I didn’t want to know who or what just split open, and I so was not petting either of them up afterward.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morgaine stroked the brush through my hair. Tingles of pleasure trickled through the long waves, like static fingers, kissing my nerves. I closed my eyes.

  “How’s the headache now, Your Majesty?”

  “It’s fading.” I looked down at my hands. “It seems like every time I get stronger, the headaches get more severe. I shot Falcon back ten feet today with my spark, and Eric said he felt his heart start when he got hit—like David, at the lake.”

  “I wonder what it would do to a vampire if their heart actually started?”

  “I don't know. Maybe they’d turn back into a human?”

  “If only it were so easy.” Morg laughed.

  “Knock, knock.” Mike tapped lightly on the door.

  “What?” I said, with more than a little hostility.

  “Ur, can I come in?”

  I looked at Morgaine through the mirror, and she put the brush down, walking over to push Mike out. “Her Majesty isn't talking to you, Mike.”

  “Ar, come on,” he whined. “I'm sorry, okay. Maybe it was a bit mean to go up against him that way, but he asked for it.”

  “How?” I stood up; Morg stepped back. “By doing everything he can to help us out.”

  “Help us out?” he scoffed. “How’s he helping?”

  “By being a friend. By…I don't know. He’s on our side. I thought that counted for something.”

  Mike sighed and wandered into my room. “I don't trust him, Ara. I never will.”

  I sat down on the blanket box. “But you were unfair today. You…if you did that to any of your knights, you’d be dishonourably discharged, Mike. That was flat-out abuse, and you know it.”

  He looked at Morg; she shrugged and slinked backward, closing my bedroom door behind her.

  “Okay. Maybe you’re right. But—” He huffed and sat down beside me. “Can you blame me, really?”

  I folded my arms and turned my body to face away from him. “I thought you had more honour than that.”

  In the reflection of my dresser mirror, I saw him rock back, sitting a little taller, my statement clearly hitting him in the heart. “Look, I didn't come up here to argue this Jason thing, I—”

  “Where is he?” I asked. “Did you leave him unconscious in the training room, or did you at least have him moved?”

  “He’s in the Medic room.”

  My heart shattered. “Medic room! What did you do to him?”

  “He’ll be okay. He just…He hasn't regained consciousness yet.”

  “Oh, my God!” I stood up. “Mike!”

  “He’ll be fine, look—” He stood up and grabbed my forearm. “I came up here to tell you something.”

  “No. I have to go see him.” I went to walk away, but his fingers tightened on my arm.

  “Baby, Eric’s leaving.”

  “What?” I screeched. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s leaving. He’s got his bag and he’s outside, right now, waiting for a taxi.”

  “Why?”

  Mike shrugged and opened my door.

  “When was he going to tell me this?”

  “He wasn’t. He was just gonna leave.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “He hates goodbyes, Ara. He didn’t want to upset you—or more to the point, have to see you upset.”

  “No! If he's leaving, he can damn well say goodbye.” I stormed out of the room.

  “Eric!” I leaped past the last set of stairs and sprung up on the front doorstep. “What are you doing?”

  “Ara?” He looked up at Mike as he came out behind me. “Thanks, Mike. So much for a clean getaway.”

  “A clean getaway?” I said. “Eric, you don't make clean getaways from your friends.”

  “I'm sorry, Ara. I just didn’t wanna do the goodbyes.”

  “But what about me? What if I wanted to?” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me cry.

  “Aw, kiddo.” I heard a car pull up on the gravel as Eric’s hand came down on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, but my band just got signed. This a great opportu—”

  “What?” I spun around.

  “I—” He toed the ground. “We got a contract with a really huge record label, and—”

  I cut his words off with my arms around his neck. “Eric, that’s amazing!”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, patting my back. “I know. So, please don't be upset. I never wanted to leave you, but…this isn't really my thing.” He motioned around the manor. “I kinda got dragged into all this, and, I mean, I’ll always be a friend, but…”

  “You have a life to live.” I nodded.

  “Yeah.” His lip twitched on one corner.

  “Then go.” I patted his shoulder and nodded to the taxi. “This is why I disbanded the Sets, Eric. I want nothing more than for you to have your freedom.”

  “See, that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you I was leaving.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, you’re such a great girl, Amara, and I…I owe you—”

  “You owe me? Eric, I think I—”

  “No, seriously.” He stopped me. “Look at it from my point of view; I’ve spent my entire vampire existence dying for a way to escape this prison—watching people rise to fame—Biebers and other pop-music douchebags, when I’ve got a sound that could rock the world. You’ve given me the freedom to live that dream, Ara. I owe you, and I really didn’t wanna make you unhappy by leaving.”

  “Well, Eric, it’ll make me happy to know that you're living. Okay? So, go—” I gave him an affectionate shove. “Go rock the world.”

  He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me slightly off the ground. “Thank you, Ara.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just…make sure you send a postcard every ten years or so. Okay?”

  “I will, I promise.” He grinned.

  “I love you, Eric. I’ll miss you.”

  “You too, Ara.” He swallowed, his throat moving with the size of the lump, then picked up his bag. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”

  “Yeah. See ya ‘round.” I nodded, slipping my hands into my back pockets as Eric hopped into the taxi, closed the door and disappeared out of my life.

  Mike’s solid form came up beside me.

  “Thanks for telling me, Mike.”

  “I knew you’d wanna say goodbye.” He looked into the distance and waved.

  The manor was dead quiet—all the vampires sleeping. Not a creature was stirring, not even a ghost of the pas
t. I wandered through the open spaces, down lengthy corridors, bare feet over cold ground, carrying a sandwich and a cup of juice. When I reached the stairs, the grandfather clock in the common room down the hall sounded the hour of midnight, and the front door popped open, eyes of surprise meeting mine.

  “Ara, what’re you doing out of bed this late?” Jason said, closing the door.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I stepped back off the stairs and wandered over to him. “Are you okay now?”

  “Yeah.” He wiped his thumb over his chin, removing a splotch of blood. “Not mine.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “Dinner.” He shrugged, popping it in his mouth. “I went hunting.”

  My lips fell apart with the drop of my jaw, and I stood motionless, looking at my sandwich then at Jason. “Well, I'm not hungry anymore.” I shoved the plate into his chest and dumped the cup in his hand.

  “Ara?” he called out.

  “Don't talk to me,” I said.

  “Why does it bother you so much for me to kill?”

  “I don't know, Jason.” I spun around to look down at him. “Maybe because I used to be your prey!”

  The heartbreak across his face made me feel awful. I didn't mean to say that, but I guess that's how I felt. I spun on my heel quickly, running up the stairs to my room, and slammed the door.

  By the time clocks all over the manor sent two loud chimes into the air, my guilt had not settled, and only seemed to grow as three, four, five and six chimed, too. The sun came up, shining pink light over my ankles, my legs and my nightdress, where I sat on my settee, repeatedly seeing the look on Jason’s face. He already suffered enough guilt for what he did to me in the past, why did I have to go and make matters worse?

  “Hey, Ara.” Quaid stood above me, holding out a sandwich; I didn't even hear him come in.

  “Quaid. Hi.” I sat up a little, taking the plate.

  “Jason dropped this off for you.” He sat down on the coffee table in front of me. “He told me what happened.”

  I thumbed the bread, checking the filling. “Yeah. I feel awful. I shouldn’t have said that to him.”

  “He’s okay, you know.” He grabbed the blanket from behind me and wrapped my shoulders. “He’s not mad at you.”