Mark of the Seer

by Kay, Jenna

  “When who doesn't get what way?”

  We glanced up and saw Kevin and Kora walking from the bar, a beer in Kora's hand, and a coke in Kevin's.

  “No one you know.” Brenton slung a wink in my direction. I winked back.

  “So, hey, Brenton, ya thirsty?” Kora inquired, taking a seat next to me. “Because if you are Kevin will go with ya.” She looked at Kevin, then at Brenton.

  “Yeah,” Kevin said, catching the very subtle hint in her voice.

  Seeing the look on her face I immediately realized that something was up, and that she needed to talk about something privately. Alone. With me.

  Brenton looked confused, then, comprehension fogged over his expression. “Yeah, OK. I guess I could use a coke or something. Ya want something, Clare?”

  “Beer, please,” I answered sweetly.

  “You got it!” He gestured to Kevin. “Come on, Kev. Your girlfriend thinks I need a babysitter or something.”

  Kevin laughed and followed Brenton.

  When they were out of earshot I glared directly into Kora's eyes. “OK, I know something's up. Spill it.”

  Her laid-back smile changed into a straight line, her face serious. “Nick's here—and you are not gonna believe who his date is.”

  Hearing Nick's name caused me to shudder, remembering the night he'd threatened me if I didn't get him back with Kora. Remarkably after that talk he'd kept his distance from Kora and me both, going out with a couple of different girls a week.

  “OK, I'll bite—who's his date?”

  She leaned closer to me, whispering, “Daria.”

  My mouth fell open as waves of astonishment rolled into me. “No way!”

  “Yes way,” she responded, taking a gulp of her beer. “Look over toward the bathrooms.”

  Sure enough there was Nick by the bathrooms, his arm hanging casually over Daria's shoulders. As usual Daria's crew was there, also with a couple of flunkies hanging on them.

  “What a scuz!” I commented nastily. “Out of all the girls in this town, he picks your number one enemy to date. How pathetic is that?”

  Kora cracked a lopsided grin. “Yeah. You'd think I'd be jealous, but I'm completely cool about the whole thing.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Of course,” she replied, still posting her lopsided grin. “Besides, I'm the lucky one—I'm with Mr. Right.” She giggled, finishing off her beer.

  Glancing back at Nick and Daria, something invaded my eyes that literally almost stopped my heart. I rubbed my eyes with my fists, thinking they were blurry from all the smoke hovering in the air. But no. What I was seeing was really there.

  Just above Nick's head was a rolling black cloud—at least, that's the best way I could describe it. It shimmered as it swirled, a mixture of black and gray. A warm sensation began in the palms of my hands, only this time it was different. This time the heat would intensify, then stop, then intensify, like a beating pulse. I took a peek at my hands and for the briefest of seconds it appeared that they were aglow with a bright red light, pulsating with the heat. After a few seconds the discomfort in my hands ceased.

  Okay, that was different.

  Looking back toward the bathrooms I was stunned to see Nick, Daria, and crew gone.

  “Hey, ya beer's almost here,” Kora slurred, kicking my leg.

  I felt my forehead crease, an ache beginning in my temples. Brenton and Kevin were walking back from the bar.

  “Good. I think I need it.”

  * * * *

  “So, that was pretty fun,” I remarked to Brenton as we walked up my porch steps. The ride from the bowling alley had been a quiet one. We listened to music and I had rested my head on his shoulder, just enjoying being close to him.

  “Yeah, it was fun for you,” he commented dryly. “You beat everyone's score. Where did ya learn to bowl like that?”

  I tensed before I responded. “From my dad.”

  He stopped right in front of the door, his eyes on his feet. “Oh.”

  Anytime I brought up my parents I noticed how my friends would clam up, as if it were a sin to talk about them. Secretly I wished my aunt would give me that pleasure, but naturally, I wasn't that lucky.

  “Wanna come in?” I asked, biting my bottom lip.

  He smiled, running a hand through his hair. “What about your aunt?”

  “Working.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “Sure.”

  We made it up the stairs and to my room when it hit me—I'd forgotten to clean it! Worrying about how good I looked had been the most important thought in my brain, putting the clean-my-room thought way at the bottom of my thinking list.

  “How 'bout some music?” I asked, trying not to point out my disastrous room.

  “Sure.” His eyes roamed my personal space. “Man, your room is a little bit on the shabby side.”

  I shrugged his comment off because, well, it was true. “A.C. fired my maid.” I popped in my Green Day CD, turning the volume low.

  “Hey, I can't believe you still have this.” He picked the picture frame from my nightstand, plopping down on my bed.

  I scooted next to him. “Yeah. That one's a classic.”

  The frame held a photo from back in the day. Brenton and I were five or six years old, on vacation at the beach. Our parents had been close, having cookouts and renting a beach house every summer. The last vacation the Millers and the Sparks had taken together was when I was twelve.

  “You still have that bikini?” he asked, his eyes gleaming.

  “You still have those Speedos?” I shot back.

  “Good one,” he conceded, placing the frame back on the nightstand. “So.”

  “So.”

  “So it's kinda weird that Kev is so into Kora.”

  “Yeah. I never thought that union would happen in a million years.”

  He smiled his dimpled smile. “I guess a lot of people thought we'd never get together.”

  “I guess we surprised them, huh?”

  Scratching his chin his eyes roamed to his lap, letting out a nervous sounding laugh. We became quiet, not knowing what to do or say next. Tension was so thick in the air that not even a knife could slice through it.

  Then, without giving it a second thought, I made my move.

  Pushing him back against my pillows, placing my knees on the sides of his waist, I pinned him under me. He made a noise somewhere between shock and amusement, since I had successfully taken him by surprise.

  “Clarity,” he said, resting his head back against my pillows, “what are ya doing?”

  “Well,” I spoke amorously, seductively. “All I know is that we are alone,” I kissed his forehead, “in my house,” I kissed his ear, “on my bed,” kissed his lips, “together.” I nibbled his lower lip, hoping I'd answered his questions.

  He groaned and wrapped his arms around me. Searching my face he asked, “Are you sure you're ready for this?” A slight waver inhabited his usual confident voice. I found it extremely cute.

  I traced his lips with my finger.

  “Yes,” I whispered, looking deeply into his eyes, placing a feather-light kiss on his soft lips.

  Brenton smiled, grabbing the back of my head, pulling me to him, kissing me hard. I could feel the desire coming from him through his kisses. After awhile our simple kissing turned into something else, which resulted into hands roaming freely and our shirts being flung onto the floor. My heart was pounding so strenuously that I could actually feel my blood speeding through my veins. A rush of emotions I'd never had spread quickly through me like lightening, causing me to shiver with delight. He made a sound somewhere deep in his throat as my fingers began fumbling with the button of his jeans. Just as I unbuttoned them, Brenton stopped me. Or at least I thought it was Brenton.

  “Clarity, don't.”

  Leaning away from him I searched his eyes, confused. “What did you say?” I questioned him breathlessly.

  He looked at me in confusion. “What? I didn't say anyt
hing.” His voice was raspy and his heart was pounding hard in his chest.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Don't be,” he said, pushing me off of him and climbing on top of me, my legs on each side of him. We began kissing again and I forgot everything, completing melting into him. His lips brushed my ear, my cheek, my neck. I reveled in this bliss, savoring it, enjoying my first taste of ecstasy. I didn't want this to end, this closeness, this security. Just me and Brenton and...

  A familiar smell hit my nose. Lavender. Sam's smell.

  Opening my eyes I almost screamed, my body tensing. There was Sam standing next to my opened window, leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed and his expression was grim.

  Sam shook his head at me. “Please don't do this,” he told me, sadness plaguing his voice.

  I gasped, causing Brenton to jolt backward. I pulled the sheets up to my chin, trying to control my shivering. My eyes felt so wide I thought they were going to jump from their sockets, and my mouth went slack with unbelief.

  My expression must have scared Brenton because he quickly reacted with, “Clarity, what is it? Did I hurt you?” His eyes flooded with deep concern.

  I was about to answer when Sam said, “He can't see or hear me.”

  As my brain registers what Sam said, Brenton leans back on his knees.

  “Are you OK?” Brenton asked, cupping my face with his hands delicately.

  “Yeah,” I responded, hoping I sounded truthful. “I'm fine. I, um, thought I saw something by the window.”

  Brenton turned his head and stared straight at Sam. I winced, expecting Brenton to go ballistic on a strange guy standing in my bedroom, watching us make-out. But instead of becoming angry, Brenton looked back at me without a word about Sam, shrugging. That just added more onto my growing perplexity.

  “I don't see anything, Clarity.”

  Sam smiled exultantly. “See. Told you,” he said, crossing his arms, as if proving his point. While he had been talking, Brenton had said something to me at the same time.

  “W-what did y-you say?” I stuttered to Brenton.

  “I asked if you were OK.” His brows creased with concern, his features twisted with uncertainty. “So, are you? OK?”

  Looking at Sam, who was standing there with a smug expression, I blew out a long breath. Then before I could stop them, tears began flooding my cheeks. I covered my face with my hands, shocked to feel how warm they were.

  “I don't f-feel right,” I told him truthfully between sobs.

  “Oh, Clarity,” Brenton expressed, his voice heavy with remorse. He pulled me to him, cradling me like I was a baby. “I'm so sorry. I thought you were ready.”

  Bringing his face to mine, I gazed up at him, shaking my head as I tried to wrap my mind around his implication.

  “No, Brenton, no!” I told him reassuringly, pecking his lips. “I am ready. I'm just not feeling good, possibly from the beer at the bowling alley.” That was a total lie—I've never been sick from drinking one beer. “I swear, Brenton. I'm ready, I just feel...” I trailed off, not knowing exactly what to say.

  Brenton touched his forehead to mine. “Are you positive that's it?”

  “I'm positive. Brenton, I love you. I love ya more than anything!” I placed my head to his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart.

  Brenton leaned back, staring me full in the face.

  “You know there's no pressure,” he said, trying to console me. “I can wait.”

  I lifted a hand to his face, caressing his cheek. “I know that,” was all I could come up with.

  How could this have happened? We were about to take our relationship to the next level until Sam showed up. It was all Sam's fault! I looked back to the window and I felt my heart fall into my stomach—Sam was gone.

  Was Sam trying to ruin my life? Causing me to go crazy and be shipped off to the insane asylum? And why the crap were my palms burning like I'd stuck them to close to a fire?

  “I love you, Clarity,” Brenton said softly, cutting into my thoughts.

  Forcing myself to smile, hoping I was hiding my anger I harbored toward Sam, I replied, “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Nine

  Standing on my porch I watched as Brenton's taillights vanished into the dark night. I stood there for I don't know how long, listening to all the night sounds.

  The glow of the moon overlaid the earth, and the stars were hanging gracefully in the crystal clear sky. Closing my eyes I thought back to the start of the evening, omitting the argument between AC and I—I'd pushed that right out of my mind when my lips first touched Brenton on the porch. Everything had been going wonderfully—and then along came a boy named Sam.

  Along came Sam, and there went my sanity flying carelessly over to the wild blue yonder. Anger began to ignite in my veins. He was the reason, the bringer of all my difficulties, my problems, my irrational thinking. He was the reason I was questioning my saneness, showing up out of nowhere and interrupting—

  Wait...

  A noise in the woods sounded from the side of the house, knocking me off my thinking train. Opening my eyes I peered out into the thick woods. What was that sound? Was it Sam?

  A frosty wind answered my question, a chill that was way too cold for October. I shivered, the wind feeling like sharp icicles pricking my skin and freezing my blood. Walking backwards and reaching the front door, a rush of realization slapped me on the side of the head.

  This harsh, frigid wind was not just any ordinary wind. No. This particular wind wasn't pushing me back—it was pulling me in, like it was trying to suck me up like a vacuum. To be more descriptive, I felt like a dozen wintry hands had a firm grip over every inch of my flesh, struggling to pull me off the porch. Fear howled through my body and my breaths were coming in short gasps. The palms of my hands were burning again, but instead of burning a little they were scorching hot, like I'd stuck my hand into a pot of boiling water.

  What the heck?

  Quickly opening the door, stepping into the safety of my house, I slammed it shut behind me, throwing the deadbolt. I ran to the kitchen sink and turned the faucet on to freezing. Disbelief drenched me as I gazed down at my hands under the icy flow of water.

  They were glowing like before, but not red. This time a green color blinked on and off the unusual tattoos.

  What. The. Crap.

  “No, no, no,” I reiterated over and over again. Heavy tears dribbled down my face and neck. My heart hammered inside my chest. I attempted to blank out my mind, pinching my eyes closed, trying desperately to delete everything that was wrong and weird in my screwed-up existence.

  I didn't want this to be happening; I didn't want to be going out of my mind; I didn't want to be seeing tattoos on my hands that were invisible to others; I didn't want to be seeing someone that no one else could see.

  I really, really didn't want to end up a comatose zombie sitting in a wheelchair in a mental hospital ingesting whatever pills they handed me out of little floral cups.

  “You're not crazy.”

  Screaming in alarm I jumped away from the sink, crashing into the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

  Sam was standing by the kitchen table, his unnatural blue eyes staring sharply at me. I stared back, trembling, not believing he was really there, not knowing if he was really there. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a white shirt, his expression was strong with concern, though his perfect, flawless features were as beautiful as ever. My palms were still hot but with Sam's presence my mind forgot about the biting tingle they possessed.

  “You may be feeling a little unsure of yourself.” He slowly walked to the sink and turned the water off, then walked toward me. “You may be feeling a little discomfort.” I watched as he took my hands in his, the touch of his skin relinquishing the burning in my palms. “You may be thinking and feeling a lot of different things, but just know this: You. Are. Not. Crazy.”

  My knees buckled, and if Sam had not been there I would have cras
hed to the floor. The intensity of his stare both unnerved and calmed me.

  “What just happened outside? And why do I have burning, glowing tattoos on my hands?”

  “The darkness has found its prey,” he told me sullenly.

  I gawked at him. “What does that even mean?”

  He didn't answer; instead he continued to gaze at me, a wooden expression harboring his features.

  “OK,” I said weakly, my throat suddenly throbbing. “I have no idea what's goin' on but I do know this: before I met you my life was semi-normal. And then you show up...I don't know what to think anymore.” I blew out a nervous sigh. “You show up and my world flip-flops. Anyway, how did ya get in my house?” I had just realized I had forgotten about that. The door had been locked, I was sure of it.

  “You're window was open,” he answered with a lopsided grin. “I closed it, by the way. There are a lot of monsters lurking out there tonight.”

  I shuddered, thinking about the frigid wind. “You're so weird. You show up at the weirdest times, in the weirdest places.” I recalled the last time I had seen him, which was at my school. He had been perched high in the oak tree just outside my classroom window. “There's something about you that I can't figure out, and that totally ticks me off.” I pulled away from him.

  A look of sadness gleamed in his eyes. “You're angry because you don't understand what's happening and what's yet to come.”

  Not wanting to but unable to help it, tears began cascading down my face. I tried turning away from him, not wanting him to see me so weak, but he stopped me by cupping my cheek gently and coercing me to look at him.

  “That's how the enemy works, feeding off your anger and taking every bit of light out of your life.” His voice was so tranquil and soothing, I felt entranced, not able to pull away from him even if I wanted to. “The darkness then invades, ravaging your soul and throwing it into a deep void of nothingness.” He took my face, tears, snot, and all, into his hands. His calming touch slowed down my racking sobs.

  “The e-enemy?” I stuttered, not quite sure on where he was going.