The Marked Girl

by Lindsey Klingele

  Liv took out her phone and pressed the 9 and 1 buttons, then left her thumb hovering over the glowing numbers. If following a potentially unbalanced—if admittedly hot—stranger boy down into the unlit bowels of a quiet museum turned out to be a huge mistake, she at least wanted to be prepared.

  Liv slowly moved forward, almost convincing herself she was fully in control of the situation. After a few more steps, the tunnel opened up into what appeared to be an old hallway, one with smooth cement floors and actual, constructed walls, albeit ones that looked like they might crumble apart at any second. The hallway didn’t seem to have working lights or doors. It stretched on into the darkness as far as Liv could see, and she took one turn after the next, following the distant sound of voices as they moved away. After a few minutes, they became clear again.

  “. . . know I heard something . . .”

  “. . . please, just trust me . . .”

  “. . . too dangerous . . . someone could get killed. . . .”

  Liv stopped in her tracks. Although she couldn’t see them, she could feel the hairs rising on her arms. Killed?

  It hit her all at once, how dumb it was for her to come down here. Though she was in the exact same position she had been in moments earlier, everything suddenly looked different. Her flimsy sense of control slipped away completely like the unreliable companion it was, leaving her alone in an underground tunnel with a smartphone for a weapon.

  What had she been thinking? Pretending to be all Indiana Jones–confident, when this could just as easily be a Silence of the Lambs situation?

  Liv raised her phone’s screen to shed light on the darkness in front of her and took a step backward. Her foot landed on something hard and pointy, and she winced when it cut through the bottom of one of her Chucks. A rock. The sound of the rock scraping against the cement floor issued a faint echo through the tunnel.

  “There, I know I heard something that time,” the girl’s voice said in a harsh whisper.

  The male voice replied, but Liv couldn’t make it out. She stopped in her tracks, straining to hear. At first there was nothing. Just the sound of her own breathing. But then, heavy footsteps echoed out in the hallway. They were heading in her direction, and they were running.

  Liv started moving backward quickly, away from the rapidly approaching footsteps. She brought her thumb down on the 1 on her phone, pressed send, and waited for the emergency call to go through . . .

  The call didn’t connect. She had zero bars.

  Obviously.

  Liv sucked in her breath and picked up her pace. She kept her eyes on the darkness in front of her as the running footsteps got louder and louder. The light from her phone bounced wildly along the tunnel walls, and Liv couldn’t make out where she was going. Her foot hit a bump in the floor, and she pitched forward.

  A hand reached out and grabbed Liv’s arm from behind, jerking her backward. Just as she started to scream, another hand clapped against her mouth, trapping her cry against her throat, unheard.

  Liv tried not to panic.

  That was one of the first things she’d picked up in her self-defense class, which she’d taken at a community center when she was fourteen and had been placed in a particularly unsatisfactory home along with two handsy sixteen-year-old boys. To panic is to waste valuable time. It’s far better to stop, wait to catch your breath, and then strike your assailant in the place they’re most vulnerable.

  Liv counted to three, then bit down hard on the fingers that were clamped over her mouth.

  “Ow! You bit me!”

  Liv whirled around, arms up in defense mode, and found herself facing a tallish figure. She swung her phone’s screen around to light him up and saw it was him, of course. The boy from under the bridge. He winced in the bluish light, and put his finger up to his mouth, sucking on the space where Liv had bit into his skin.

  “You grabbed me!”

  “Only to stop you from screaming,” he said in his strange, unplaceable accent. “Who are you? What are you doing down here?”

  “Um . . .” Liv’s hand shook as she tried to think of a single good answer, and the light from her phone bounced around the walls of the tunnel. The boy tracked the light to her face, and his eyes widened in surprise.

  “You,” he said. “You are the girl from the night we . . . but how did you come to be here? Did you follow me?”

  “No. I mean, technically, yes,” Liv replied, feeling flustered. “But I only followed you to see why you were following me.”

  The boy blinked. “What?”

  Liv shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I believe I asked you first.”

  “What are you, twelve?” Liv took a deep breath. “Let’s start over. A couple months ago, I was shooting my movie when I saw you and some other kids in pajamas down by the river. You acted sketch as hell, somehow switched swords with me, and ran away, so again I ask, what are you doing here?”

  The boy’s eyes widened. They looked almost black in the tunnel, and remained fixed and intensely focused on her. He grabbed Liv’s arm.

  “You have my sword?”

  “Are you sure it’s yours? You didn’t steal it from anywhere?” She looked around the tunnel, wondering what other rooms in the museum it might connect to. “Like, say, from a museum? Are you some kind of security guard grifter who peddles stolen swords on the side?”

  “A . . . what?”

  Liv grimaced. “I don’t think I could say it again.”

  The boy shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “I did not steal the sword. You did.”

  Liv pulled her arm free.

  “I didn’t steal it. You left it behind. And I was just delivering it to the museum, where it probably belongs.”

  “It is here?” The boy asked, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. “Where?”

  Liv realized she wasn’t likely to get any satisfactory answers out of this strange boy. Talking to him was like trying to have a conversation with the staticky, disembodied voice that took orders at the Fatburger drive-through. Frustrating and near impossible. Now what she wanted most was to get out of this cold, dirty tunnel that she regretted walking into in the first place. And she certainly no longer cared what became of that stupid sword. It was officially time to bail.

  “Tell you what,” Liv said, summoning courage. “I’ll tell you where the sword is if you tell me the fastest way out of here.”

  The boy seemed to consider her for a moment, then nodded. He looked behind him once, into the blackness of the tunnel, and Liv wondered if the girl he had been talking to was still back there, listening. Was it the same girl from under the bridge? Then the boy turned again toward Liv.

  “We have a deal.”

  And then he bowed. Actually, truly, bent at the waist and bowed.

  “Uh . . .”

  The boy didn’t wait for a better response. He started off in the direction Liv had come from without turning around to see if she was following him. They walked in silence for a few moments, Liv following the careful bobbing of his dark head as it ducked beneath low-hanging sections of the ceiling.

  The boy came to an abrupt stop, turned right, and put his hands up against the wall. Through the dimness, Liv could just make out the outlines of a wooden panel—one she hadn’t seen on the way in. The boy grabbed the edges of the panel with both hands and pulled, yanking it free. Behind the panel there was another hallway, also dark and abandoned. He stepped through the opening and then put his hand back for Liv.

  “This isn’t the way we came in,” Liv said.

  “It is the fastest way out.”

  Liv hesitated a moment, then reached out for the boy’s hand and clasped it. His palm was warm and she felt strength in his rough, callused fingers. Liv looked up from his hand and saw that he was watching her, his eyes slightly narrowed. He gave a light shake of his head—like he was trying to clear it of something—and pulled her into the second tunnel after him. When she was through, the boy let go
of her hand, and Liv let it fall back to her side. She felt strangely conscious of it then, of its weight and feel, of the sweatiness of her palm. She balled it into a fist and continued walking.

  After a few minutes, Liv saw an opening far up ahead and what looked like the late afternoon light filtering in. Finally, they reached a grate in the worn concrete wall, about two feet high and two feet wide and located just a few inches off the ground. The boy reached down to loosen the edges of the grate and ply it away from the wall.

  “Out you go,” he said.

  “Wait,” Liv protested. “Are you serious? Where does this even lead?”

  “To a side alley, east of the museum. Turn left and walk true, and you will eventually find the main thoroughfare. It is the fastest way out.”

  Liv was about to duck to go through the grate when the boy reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder.

  “The sword?”

  “Last I saw it, it was in the Acquisitions Department. It’s probably still there.”

  Relief washed over his face. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Sure, uh, anytime,” Liv responded. “You’re kind of a weirdo, and possibly a criminal, but I guess I’m sorry I bit you.”

  For the first time, Liv saw the boy smile. It was a nice smile, a slightly uneven one that turned up on the right side of his face more than the left. It made him look younger. “I will heal.”

  Liv dropped down lower to the ground but turned back toward the boy once more.

  “I’m Liv, by the way.”

  The boy paused before responding. “Cedric.”

  “Well . . . ’bye, Cedric. Enjoy your sword.”

  “Good-bye, Liv.”

  With that, he turned and started walking back through the tunnel. Liv hesitated, stopped by the strange urge to call something out after him that would make him turn around. Instead, she watched Cedric disappear around a slight curve in the tunnel before ducking her head through the grate and crawling into the alley beyond.

  It was still light out, but the sun had fallen behind the museum wall, casting shadows over the narrow space. On the opposite side of the alley was a brick wall separating Liv from a small park. Down at the far end to her left, she could just barely make out a few cars driving by on Exposition Boulevard. Liv started walking. After a few moments, she thought she heard footsteps treading behind her. She turned around, expecting to see Cedric, but saw only the brick walls of the alley and an overturned recycling bin. She turned back and hastened her steps.

  There it was again. Definite footsteps.

  “Cedric?” Liv called out.

  No response. It sounded as though the footsteps were getting closer. Liv whipped her head around, trying to see who was following her, and ran smack into something solid and large. She bounced back and nearly fell to the ground. The solid figure—a man—reached an arm out and steadied her.

  “Sorry,” Liv gasped. “I thought there was . . . something.”

  The man stared at Liv. He was more than six feet tall, dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt. Dark, thinning hair curled around his ears and dropped to the edges of his shoulders. For a moment, his face betrayed no expression. Then he smiled.

  Or no, smiled wasn’t exactly the word for it. His lips curled up, exposing his teeth, and the skin crinkled around his eyes. But there was no warmth there. It was the approximation of a smile, like something you’d see on a Halloween mask. The man was still holding on to Liv’s arm.

  “Um, I think I should go—”

  Liv tried to wriggle her arm free, but the man just gripped tighter.

  “Where you headed, little girl?” he asked. Liv shivered at the hollowness in his voice. A familiar warning sign went off in the back of her head. Danger.

  Many people felt it at some time or another, when they passed homeless men muttering to themselves on the street, or a group of teenage boys walking by with their pants hanging low. But Liv knew the most dangerous people were often the ones you didn’t expect. Signs of hunger, mental instability, or bad fashion choices weren’t the things to watch out for. It was a certain tone of voice, a calculated attempt at humanity. An emptiness.

  Liv twisted her arm free with a violent yank, sprinted around the man, and took off running down the alley toward the main street. Her heart burned against her chest. The man was close behind her; she could feel it. She could hear him gaining on her.

  And then, without warning, something landed squarely against Liv’s back, knocking her to the ground.

  Liv struggled to breathe, but she couldn’t find air. She squirmed and rolled around until she was facing up, and saw the face of the man leering down at her. He had her pinned to the ground by the arms and was smiling that awful smile. She knew how to get through this—she just had to find the most vulnerable point and strike it. The man’s throat was defenseless, and the hand pinning her left arm to the ground was loosening. If she could just free her hand, she could jam her fingers into the skin there. . . .

  Liv prepared to swing up her left arm, but then froze when she saw the man’s face. His smile stretched wider and his eyes . . . his eyes changed colors, turning from dark brown to black. It was as if the pupils completely dilated and spread, overtaking first the irises, and then the whites of his eyes. Pooling slowly outward, like ink spilled in a glass of milk.

  After a moment, the man’s eyes were completely black. His smile stretched, opening wider than any mouth should. And his teeth—there was something wrong with his teeth. There were . . . more of them than there should be.

  Liv blinked rapidly, trying to clear up this image that was so obviously wrong. It didn’t work. She wondered if she had a concussion. The man leaned in, his teeth getting closer and closer to her face.

  “I’ve been waiting for you all day,” he said. “So tell me quick, girl, where are the rest of your little friends?”

  Liv tried to control her ragged breathing, tried to curb the panic running through her limbs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she choked out. “Please . . .”

  “No need to beg,” the man continued. “Answer my questions, and I will let you go. Fight me, and I will leave your mangled body behind as a warning for the others.”

  Liv struggled to suck in air as the man leaned down even closer and whispered into her ear. “Personally, I hope you choose to fight.”

  He gripped her jaw with his hand, and Liv screamed.

  THE MONSTER

  Teeth. Hot breath and so, so many teeth.

  Liv was still screaming, but she doubted anyone would come running. The opening to the alley was too far away.

  The man’s lips curled back. He put his mouth against her cheek, and she felt those teeth touch her skin. Liv braced herself for the pain . . .

  But it didn’t come. Instead, the man jerked backward. He flew through the air and landed on the ground a few feet from Liv. Standing behind him, brandishing a shining knife the size of a forearm, was Cedric.

  Cedric’s eyes blazed, and he spared just one glance to Liv before advancing on the man.

  Liv scrambled to her feet at the same time her attacker did. A voice in the back of her brain screamed at her to run, run! But she couldn’t move; she was frozen solid, a statue in jeans and Chucks. And even if she could run, she didn’t know which direction to go. The hulking man blocked her exit to the road.

  Liv couldn’t look away from the man’s face. His eyes were still entirely black, reflecting zero light. He hissed at Cedric, a completely inhuman sound.

  Cedric lunged at him, and for a moment, he seemed inhuman, too. His movements were so fast, so sure. His face was entirely altered from the one she’d seen in the museum tunnel. He wore the rigid expression of a seasoned boxer, calculating his opponent’s next move. One second he was standing flat on the pavement, knife in hand, and the next he was at the man’s throat.

  The man tried to dodge Cedric. He, too, was moving fast. Much too fast. But he wasn’t as fast as Cedric.

  Liv tri
ed to keep up with the tangle of limbs, heads, and legs, but she had a hard time telling Cedric apart from her attacker in the fading light. Every few moments she saw the gleaming blade whip through the air before plunging down again. She couldn’t tell if it was connecting with anything.

  Then she saw an arm in blue sleeves—Cedric’s—reach out in a slicing motion. She heard more hissing from the black-eyed man as he leaped away. He was holding his neck, and blood was trickling through his fingers. He was no longer smiling.

  “You cannot defeat me with that toy,” he growled.

  Cedric actually smiled in response, the right side of his lips pulling upward. “No, but I can have a great deal of fun trying.”

  The man lunged for Cedric again, but at the last second he altered his attack, sliding toward the ground and kicking out straight to knock Cedric off his feet. Cedric hit the pavement with a hollow thud, and his smile fell from his face. The man got up and crouched over Cedric’s back, pinning his neck to the ground with one hand.

  “Help!” Liv screamed. She turned toward the museum, but saw no doors or windows nearby. “Please help us!”

  But even as she screamed her voice raw, she knew there was no time. The black-eyed man was reaching for Cedric’s right hand, the one with the blade. He pinched Cedric’s wrist hard and weakened his grasp. Liv could see that it would only be a matter of seconds before the knife was ripped free.

  “Cedric!” she yelled. But this time, she moved as well.

  Concentrate on the weak points. The weak points. The weak points.

  The black-eyed man was focused on Cedric. He didn’t see Liv approach, didn’t see her kick out with all her might toward the side of his knee.

  Liv’s right foot connected hard, sending vibrations up her leg. The black-eyed man’s leg bent inward. He let out a long, horrid cry and clutched at his knee. Liv reached into her pocket and closed her fist around her keys. She fumbled a bit with the biggest key, the one that unlocked Rita’s front door, and situated it between her ring and middle fingers, pointing outward. Before the black-eyed man could get to his feet, Liv punched out with her fist, key first, toward his left eye.