Shadowmark (The Shadowmark Trilogy Book 1)

by TM Catron

“On Earth? I was sent here as soon as I was trained.”

  “And how did you get here?”

  “On a spaceship.”

  Mina snorted. At least one of them was losing it.

  But those flashes—they’d happened every time she touched his chest, starting when they were at the cabin. And there was no other explanation for how he’d battled the Glyph in the forest, or healed from that dog attack.

  “I will tell you anything else you want to know, but not now. More Condarri are on their way. Mina, will you come with me?”

  Mina looked up into his face. Part of her was desperate to run from him. But when she looked into his eyes, she remembered all the times he had saved her. Mina pressed her hands against her own eyes. If he left she would never find out why. She had nothing. Lincoln was dead. Everything and everyone had disappeared, except Doyle. Mina dropped her hands. Doyle held out his hand to her.

  She took it and slid off the table.

  The door to the room opened automatically for Doyle, and they walked into a short tunnel that led outside. Mina looked back—they had been in some kind of bunker cut into the mountainside. The door closed again behind them, melting seamlessly into the rock. The bunker looked as if it had been abandoned decades ago, but Doyle explained that all the bunkers had been left that way in case humans accidentally stumbled across them. Heavy trees and brush hid the outside door from prying eyes. The rock dropped off in front of the door, and they had to carefully pick their way down narrow stone handholds in the fading light.

  “So there are more of these?” asked Mina.

  “We placed them strategically throughout the mountains as rendezvous points.”

  “Who is we?” asked Mina as they finally reached a spot where she could pause to rest her burning muscles.

  “The other hybrids.”

  “The other . . . You mean there are more of you?”

  “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? What good would only one of us do? Weren’t you even listening in there?”

  “I’m sorry. I was a little preoccupied with the fact that you’re an alien, Doyle. Is that even your real name?”

  “Yes. But I also have a Condar name—Dar Ceylin.”

  “Dar?”

  “Ceylin,” he pronounced it again for her, putting emphasis on the “k” sound. “It’s a title, really. It means commander.”

  Mina looked back up at the door, now merely a shadow on the mountainside. “How did you get me up there?” she asked.

  “With great difficulty. Now let’s go.” He took off like usual, leaving Mina to struggle on behind him.

  Their frantic race through the forest left little room for conversation. Several times over the next few hours, Doyle changed direction, zigzagging through the forest. Mina struggled to keep up even without the weight of her pack. Eventually he grabbed her hand, supporting her over the treacherous footing. They hiked until Mina could not see her feet. Doyle didn’t stop, though, and had no trouble picking his way up another mountain. His firm grasp caught Mina on the hand more than once when she skidded over loose earth or rough ground.

  “Why don’t we stop?” she asked after she stumbled over a tree root for the tenth time.

  “We will. Later.” Doyle clutched at his chest, rubbing it.

  “Is it your . . . ?”

  “Adarre. Yes. I am being summoned.” Doyle added nothing else as he moved on, faster than before.

  With a pang, Mina thought of Howard and Catherine. Had they escaped the Glyphs? Doyle had told her the whole area would be crawling with invaders. She felt sick. And angry, but their insane pace through the dark relieved some of the rage. She could not seethe much while she gasped for air.

  “Wait. I. Can’t. Breathe.” Her lungs burned. Each breath she gulped was not nearly enough to satisfy her body’s need for oxygen. Her head pounded with the heat of exertion. Finally, Doyle paused close to a stream. Mina waded in, trying to cool off. She splashed water on her hot face. When she’d had enough, she waded back to the bank and collapsed on the forest floor. Doyle knelt to drink and splashed water on his own face, then came back to her, holding out his hand.

  Mina was still breathing fast. “I don’t think I can move anymore.”

  Doyle sat down next to her. He seemed more relaxed than before and had not clutched his chest in some time. He gazed up at the stars through the gap in the trees.

  “About four hours till morning, then we go.”

  “Where? Where are we going to go? No matter what we do, sooner or later we’ll be caught and end up like everybody else. Or we’ll fall and die on this insane night run!” Despite the vehemence in her words, Mina didn’t move from the ground.

  Doyle lay down on his side, not even out of breath while Mina’s heart still pounded fiercely. The cold mountain water had cooled her down so well that she shivered slightly.

  “What happened to your jacket?” she asked. She had lost her own with her pack.

  “In my bag. Do you want it?”

  “Yes.”

  Doyle rose, retrieved his jacket from his bag, covered her with it, and lay back down beside her.

  “Thanks.” Mina burned with questions. Doyle seemed uncharacteristically agreeable, so she decided to test her luck.

  “Doyle?” He said nothing. She took his silence as a positive sign and plunged in. “How long were you following me?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I didn’t have too much trouble. You left a pretty easy trail. And you hadn’t gone far.”

  She toyed with the cuff of his jacket. “Why?”

  “I felt bad about the way we parted,” he conceded.

  “Why did you follow me so long without making yourself known?”

  “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

  “You killed Williams.”

  “I’m not sorry about it,” he countered, his face suddenly stern in the moonlight. “He was a hybrid—he would have killed you.”

  Mina shivered again. “You’re a hybrid. Aren’t you on the same side?”

  “We all were, once, but there was a rift, and many hybrids went rogue. Now it’s difficult to tell who’s still working for the Condarri, and who is working for themselves.”

  “So he was working for . . .?”

  “Himself.”

  “And what about you? Who are you working for?”

  Doyle looked right at her. “You were very brave today, and lucky, against the Condarri.”

  Mina allowed him to change the subject, but made a mental note to ask the question again later. “I hope that family is okay.”

  “People are learning how to hide. They are probably long gone by now. You saved that woman’s life.” Doyle regarded her appraisingly, his eyes searching hers. “But don’t do anything like that again. Your gun isn’t powerful enough to kill a Condarri. Their skin is like armor.”

  “You stopped it with a knife.”

  “Yes.”

  “You can kill a Glyph by yourself but not a dog?”

  “Couldn’t help that. I needed to act like a convincing human.” Doyle smiled.

  “You allowed it bite you to protect your cover.”

  “I didn’t know for sure it would attack. Dogs don’t particularly like me. You responded well, though.”

  Mina raised herself on her arms to look at him properly. Doyle’s confidence in her was reassuring. But she was exhausted, and none of her feelings were where they were supposed to be. She leaned forward and kissed Doyle softly on the lips. When she pulled back, he was frowning. Embarrassed, Mina began to pull away, thinking she had misread him. But his calloused fingers wrapped around her hand, thumb pressing into her palm.

  “Why’d you do that?” he asked.

  “Erm . . . to thank you? I don’t know. Caught up in the moment, I guess. Sorry.” Mina’s cheeks warmed. Had she really just kissed him? And he was an alien!

  Doyle didn’t say anything, but looked at her as if he were tr
ying to decide something. She almost broke the awkward silence herself before he leaned toward her, pausing with his lips inches from hers.

  “Let me show you something.” Doyle placed her hand on his chest and held it there.

  Mina felt lean, hard muscles through his t-shirt. Then the night shifted, and the stars overhead became brighter. Suddenly, Mina saw new constellations, and their names rang out in her mind as she looked at Doyle. She gasped and pulled away, slightly out of breath, her heart beating fast again. Looking up, she checked the stars above. They were unchanged.

  “I didn’t know until the cabin,” he said, “but contact with my adarre shows you my thoughts. Just then, I remembered the constellation of Condar, so when you touched me, you could see it, too.”

  “How’d you work that out?”

  “You mumbled about the dog in your sleep. I pieced it together.”

  Mina recalled her strange glimpse of the snarling dog attacking from above, and her subsequent nightmares. She shuddered. “So you can show me other things?”

  “Yes. Anything,” he said, and Mina gingerly pressed her hand to his chest again. This time, she closed her eyes and saw herself, Doyle, and Williams sitting around a campfire.

  Doyle was speaking. “She’s not for trade for anything. And I better not catch you staring at her again as you did earlier today."

  Williams’s voice echoed in Doyle’s head.

 

 

 

  Williams’s face turned red, and Mina pulled her hand away again, his spoken answer fading. “You can have silent conversations with other hybrids.”

  “Yes."

  “Show me something better,” she whispered and touched his chest again.

  She glided through the air, skimming gracefully over a green blur below as brown mountains rushed toward her. The air shimmered in golden sunshine.

  The scene changed. Mina sat in a tree atop a ridge, looking out over a green valley like the one they were in now.

  Mina let go. “Well, that’s a relief, at least.”

  “What is?”

  “I’d thought several times I was going crazy. Glad to know I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am.”

  Doyle smiled. “Not any crazier than when I met you.”

  “What is this? Are you flirting?”

  Doyle smirked and rose. “Time to go.”

  Mina sighed and let him help her to her feet.

  DAY 81

  SILENCE PERMEATED THE DARK GLADE. Condarri stood in a ring under the trees while an attack ship hovered overhead. In their midst, the body of the sacred being lay sprawled on the forest floor. A dozen wounds sliced through the adarria, marring their perfect beauty. Silver blood had soaked the ground beneath the murdered Condarri and congealed into solid stone.

  Calla stood high on the mountain, far outside the ring, watching the aether transport the body into the ship. She had failed. Only a hybrid could have fatally wounded the Sacred Being with a knife. Only a Condarri blade could have pierced its mighty form. And only a rogue would have committed such a treasonous act. She should have found them all by now. But she had let them slip away, one by one. Even the hybrid assigned with Halston in West Virginia had disappeared before Calla could question her. Calla had wasted so much time, so much breath. The Condarri would blame her. She should have allowed Dar Ceylin to provide more help.

  The three stood behind her, breathless in their grief. Dar Ceylin had not answered her summons. She repulsed him, certainly. Calla left the other hybrids to walk down the mountain, her body trembling and hands shaking as she found a tree to lean on. She didn’t want them to see her in this shameful state. She unsheathed her own blade, her favorite weapon. Deadly and silent, it reminded her of her connection to the Condarri every time she used it. The arm that held it wielded justice. Strength. Calla’s hands ceased quivering when she placed the blade at her own throat. She could still pronounce one last judgment. An act that would demonstrate her loyalty beyond doubt.

  Rage boiled through her body that a hybrid could commit such a daring act of treason. She wanted to rip apart the rogue responsible. Calla gritted her teeth and pushed the blade harder against her skin, drawing blood.

  No. She gasped and flung the knife away. It stuck, quivering, in a tree nearby. Calla would find the murderer, and only then would she offer herself up to the Condarri for punishment. They could oversee her execution if they deemed fit.

  And she would not accept Dar Ceylin’s silence. She reached out again into the night, summoning him with her adarre. One last time.

  When she had calmed herself, Calla waited for the Condarri to leave and checked the area herself. The three male hybrids hung back, waiting on her command. Boot prints littered the ground. Half-prints and prints trampled by the dying Condarri. Her inspection revealed two distinct patterns. One print belonged to a small hiking shoe, and one to a large boot similar to the one she wore. She recognized them. They had surrounded Williams’s body as well. She stiffened as realization dawned, her face burning red. Another wave of shame blurred her vision. The same hybrid who had killed Williams had killed the Condarri.

  Calla found one more item at the edge of a pool—a backpack. It stank of humans. Calla searched it but found nothing of consequence. She sniffed it one last time, memorizing the scent, then flung it away into the trees. She looked upward. The roaring of the waterfalls above should have hushed out of respect for the Dead One. Unable to command the water to stop, Calla motioned to her three and raced through the trees, looking for the rogue’s trail.

  “Where are we going?” asked Mina later that morning. She stumbled along next to Doyle, her legs wobbly after their night of hiking.

  “Not much farther. I’m just looking for the right spot for the Nomad.” Doyle still held her hand even though the sun was shining and Mina could see perfectly.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll see.” Doyle refused to say anything more until they found a small mountain meadow. He sank down and pulled her with him into the tall grass. Mina lay back and closed her eyes, not caring why they had stopped now. She dozed off in seconds.

  When she woke, the sun was setting on the other side of the valley. Doyle still sat beside her with his knees propped up and his arms resting on top of them. His eyes brightened as she sat up.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes,” she said groggily. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Nightfall.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see,” he repeated.

  “Would it kill you to answer a question directly once in a while?”

  “Yes.”

  Mina reached around and pressed a hand to her ribs. They didn’t hurt at all.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. I almost don’t believe it.”

  “Pretty good, huh? I’ve used those machines a few times myself.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Just about everything.”

  Mina examined Doyle’s appearance closely. His t-shirt didn’t do much to hide the fresh scrapes and bruises covering his arms and neck. Mina touched his arm, careful not to rake her fingers over open skin. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

  The corner of Doyle’s mouth played upward in a half smile, and he covered her hand with his own in acknowledgement.

  They waited until the sky darkened completely and stars shone brilliantly above them. A shadow passed over them, momentarily blotting them out. Mina stiffened. A small ship flew directly toward them, completely silent. Feeling exposed, she looked into the trees for a hiding
place, but Doyle grabbed her hand and held her to her spot.

  He pulled her back while the ship hovered over them. With its lack of wings and dark polished hull, the metal vessel looked like a miniature version of the enormous invader ships. On the underside, a door opened soundlessly. A stairway glided down to the ground, casting a faint blue light on the mountain grass. Doyle led her to it. Up close, what Mina had taken for a metal hull looked more like stone, smoothed and shaped as if by water.

  Doyle led her up the stairway into a cool, dark room with dark walls. A gurgling noise echoed throughout the chamber, and Mina turned to see the stairway folding up into the ship. The door closed behind them.

  “This is your ship?”

  “Yes. It’s named the Nomad.”

  “There’s nothing here.”

  “We’re in the hold. This way.” He led her through several doors that all led into similar-looking rooms. Lights turned on as they entered each one, but Mina could not see anything but the walls. The gurgling noise continued. A door opened for them, revealing a spiral staircase that pulsed with a soft red light. Doyle led her up, passing several closed doors. At the top, another door hissed open. Mina stepped into a room with six bunks floating on the opposite wall, stacked three high. Each bunk had a pillow and a blanket neatly tucked under the edges of the mattress. In front of the bunks, six contoured metal seats faced away from the door under a row of three portholes in the left wall of the room. The room was stark, plain.

  “Do others use this ship?”

  “I have transported other hybrids, but the ship is mine.”

  “So not all the hybrids have ships?”

  “No.”

  “Why you?”

  “It came with the title.”

  They walked through the open room, and the lights faded as they passed into a corridor along the starboard side of the ship—four closed doors on the left and portholes on the right. Doyle ignored the doors, walking all the way to the end and into the cockpit. At the front, a large curved window stretched from floor to ceiling. The back wall of the room glowed with a faint yellow light that flooded the space. Doyle sat down in the large captain’s chair centered in the ship’s jagged nose, where he was seemingly on thin air, able to see the ground below and the stars above. The cockpit had no console or controls of any kind, only two more seats situated on either side and slightly behind the captain’s chair. Mina tentatively sat in the one to the right, expecting hard metal, but it turned out to be more comfortable than an airplane seat.