Mark of the Seer

by Kay, Jenna

  Swallowing a very ugly, very nasty comeback I told her, “I just need to talk to ya a minute. You know, a friendly conversation between two people which does not include being vile to each other.”

  “Friendly?” she remarked, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  I bit my lip, trying very hard to keep my patience and anger under control.

  “It's important,” I declared. “May I please come in?” Uh, why was I being so dang polite?

  She narrowed her eyes with a look of suspicion fogging her face. It seemed like an eternity passed before she responded.

  “I guess—but whatever it is ya got to get off your chest, make it quick. I really don't want the neighbors questioning why your piece of crap car is parked by my driveway.” She turned on her heels and began walking away. I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me.

  Daria's house could be described in two words: Massively gaudy. When you first walk in you face a grand staircase, and your eyes see walls covered with classical paintings, most likely expensive originals. Hardwood floors and Persian rugs were mapped out throughout the house. Breakables were placed everywhere, from priceless Mint Eggs to five foot tall vases and statues.

  Following her through a majestic dining room and into her huge gourmet kitchen I couldn't stop myself from wondering what her parents did for a living to afford such luxury. The floors in the kitchen were marble and the counter tops were granite—it was intense and marvelous at the same time.

  “Nice place,” I commented, trying to keep the mood light.

  “What, this old house?” She opened the refrigerator door and retrieved two bottled waters, throwing one in my direction. I caught it before it plummeted to the floor.

  Smiling I said, “Thanks.”

  “Whatever,” she replied coolly, shrugging her shoulders. “Now just what was it ya wanted?”

  I looked at her not knowing where or how to start the conversation. When she opened her door and found me standing there she apparently turned her witch switch on. Already I wanted to smack her across the face and rip her perfectly smooth blonde hair from the roots.

  Patience, Clarity. It's all about patience.

  “I just wanted to ask...” I trailed off as my eyes caught sight of dark bruises on her upper arms.

  “Ask me what?” she snapped, noticing my floored expression.

  “What happened to your arms?” I asked bluntly.

  Patently surprised she answered, “Nothing.” I could tell she was lying by the slight waver in her voice. “Now get on with it—you need to get your beat-up piece of crap out of my neighborhood.”

  The urge to beat the snot out of her began to burn in my blood, but instead of acting it out I took a deep breath and exhaled, composing myself.

  “Fine. I wanted to know if everything was OK between you and Nick.” I watched for her reaction—it did not take long to get a response.

  “What?” she questioned, entirely puzzled. “You mean to tell me you drove all the way from your neck of the woods to mine in your crappy piece of crap car just to ask if me and Nick were doing OK?”

  “Uhhh...” What could I say to that? She had hit the nail on the head with that one.

  “Answer me, Clearasil.”

  I nervously played with the cap from my bottle of water. “Daria, I know this may sound weird but—”

  “Did Kora put you up to this?”

  “What? No!”

  “Because if she did, you can tell her to keep her slutty little skanky hands off him because he's mine!”

  “No, you're not listenin' to me! This has nothing to do wi—”

  “Then what?” she cut in again, her hand reaching up to the scarf around her neck. I stared at her questionably.

  “Why are you wearin' that scarf?” I asked inquisitively, walking over to her. “It's not cold in here.”

  Without another word or thought, I quickly grabbed the scarf from her neck.

  “No! Don't touch that!” It was too late, though. I yanked the scarf from her neck and let out a startled gasp.

  The scarf fell onto the marble floor soundlessly, revealing exactly what I had feared. Bruises were all over her neck, looking suspiciously like a pair of hands had been wrapped around it.

  She's bruised, just like in the dream! Maybe there was something to this Seer’s dream thing.

  Silence occupied the space between us, and then everything went still. A citrus smell arose in the air, like Daria's kitchen had turned into an orange grove. The temperature in the room grew and my hands began to tingle with a familiar warmth. I looked down at them and saw they were glowing green, and I knew at any moment I would have an encounter with a celestial being. What happened next was a new one even for me.

  Glancing back at Daria I saw that her angry expression was still residing on her face, unmoving

  and...frozen? I could move but Daria could not, and the only sound I could hear was the beating of my thumping heart in my chest. It seemed to me as if the world was taking a time-out.

  Everything was paused but me, Daria looking as if she was stuck in an intermission.

  A little girl, maybe around seven or eight, became visible by Daria's side. She was wearing a long white gown and had long blonde hair with bangs. Of course like the two other angels I had met, she was very resplendent. She looked at me through sad eyes.

  An angel—Daria's angel.

  “Yes, Nick has been hurting her,” the little angel told me in a high-pitched voice.

  I looked down at the small heavenly host. Her intense blue eyes stared back at me, her expression gentle and tranquil.

  “He tries to control her,” she continued, her voice musically light. “He tries to make her be something she isn't, and when she doesn't comply, he gets angry.”

  “But why?” I asked, finding out the inside of my mouth was extremely dry. I took a sip of my water and said, “Why is he doing this to her?”

  When she answered it wasn't exactly the response I was looking for. My blood ran cold with dread when she spoke.

  “He wants her to be like Kora.”

  My jaw dropped at her admission. A chill ran down my spine and crashed into my feet.

  “He what?” I exclaimed, unable to comprehend her statement.

  “He uses his anger against Daria because Kora rejected him,” she told me somberly, shaking her head and frowning. “She is so weak—she's no match against him.”

  Speechless, I watched as she slowly disappeared, the citrusy smell melting away. Like someone flipping the breaker to the world, reality came crashing back down, waking up everything around me. I felt dazed, like a moment with the angel had been an eternity. Just like I'd woken into a dream world, and then had to wake up to reality.

  Of course I wasn't the only one coming back down to the real world—so was Daria, only she had no clue on what just occurred.

  Too bad for me because she was still stuck in witch mode.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she screamed at me, her face three different shades of red. She bent over and collected her scarf from the floor, madly wrapping it back around her to cover her traumatized neck.

  Shaking my head to get rid of the cobwebs covering my brain, I tried desperately to get the situation under control.

  “N-Nick did that, didn't he? Nick hurt you—”

  “Shut-up!” she shouted in my face, pushing me away from her.

  “You need to get away from him—you don't know what he's capable of—”

  “I said shut-up!” she screamed once again, shoving past me and walking to the front door. On opening the door she said, “Get outta my house.”

  Any hope I had for helping her disintegrated into the air.

  “I'm only tryin' to help you,” I said softly as I made my way to the door.

  She scowled. “Get. Out.” Her rage-filled eyes bored holes through me.

  Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I gave her a sour look.

  “Fine, I'll go. Jus
t what ever ya do, don't go down any dark alleys with Nick.”

  “Get out and leave me alone.” She pushed me roughly out the door and slammed it in my face.

  I walked to my car feeling a mixture of feelings—dejection, sadness, anger, confusion, detachment. Why was this happening to me? How was I supposed to help strangers when I couldn't help someone I've known all my life? Granted she was a bit of a pill and we'd never gotten along, but...

  As soon as I sat down in the driver’s seat and shut the door, Sam appeared next to me on the passenger side, already harboring a concerned expression. His lavender scent sated the car, the smell not hitting me with its calming remedy like usual—I felt too discombobulated to be comforted. Immediately, I aimed my indignation at him.

  “What was the point of that?” I asked him angrily. “Why did you think I could help her by trying to have a normal conversation with her when we've never spoken cordially to each other ever?”

  “Because deep down I know you want to help her,” he responded softly, his blue eyes blazing.

  “Well, I did a dang poor job of it!” I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. “Daria thinks Kora sent me over to spy.”

  “You helped her more than you think, and you also met little Mary Beth.”

  I gazed over at his smiling face.

  “Daria's angel.”

  “That's right.”

  I leaned my head against the seat. “You really think I helped?”

  “I know for certain you did,” he said with a nod. “Right now she's second guessing her relationship with Nick, and thinking about blowing off the date she has with him tonight.”

  “A date in a dark alley?”

  “The date wasn't down an alley,” he informed me. “It was at the movies.”

  I scrunched my face up with confusion. “But why did I dream about her and him in a dark alley?”

  “Because,” he replied, narrowing his eyes, “she might have ended up there after their date.”

  A shiver tore through me as I swallowed his words. May be I had helped in some way, because if she did not comply with Nick's wishes about being more like Kora, he could have used that heavy object that he tried to use on me in the disturbing dream.

  Another shiver ripped through my body at the thought of Nick hurting Daria to the point of killing her. Could Nick actually be that cruel, that ruthless to take a life? Sure he was a scumbag, but could he actually murder someone?

  “Yes,” Sam answered, reading my thoughts. “Like I told you the first night we met—he's got demons hanging all over him.”

  “This is too much for me to handle,” I confessed, shaking my head warily. “I don't think I can handle this Seer stuff.”

  He reached over and squeezed my shoulder, a warm feeling flowing from his hand into my body.

  “I know you can handle it, he whispered, disappearing from my sight, taking his lavender concoction with him.

  I sighed, turning my car on.

  “Thanks for the reassurance,” I muttered as I peeled out of the swanky, way too expensive community.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Driving to Barb's Dress Boutique I was surprised to feel an emotion I had not felt freely in a while. Happiness. Even after my horrific talk with Daria, I could not help feeling excited—and relieved.

  After Sam reassured me that I had helped her, my spine straightened up a little bit. Just knowing she was at home rethinking her relationship with Nick caused my ego to fluctuate. I almost felt proud of myself in knowing that I had helped someone using my new-found Seer abilities. Even if that someone would never help you in return.

  For the first time since God bestowed His “gift” upon me, my thoughts turned positive, actuating my thinking that maybe, just maybe I could live my life as a Seer, helping others fight the war against good and evil.

  Arriving at Barb's, my lips formed a happy smile as my eyes spotted Janey and Kora waiting for me outside the store. Getting out of my car, I was greeted by an annoyingly mouthy Kora.

  “Where the heck have ya been?” she asked, placing her hands on her scrawny hips.

  “Yeah, we've been waitin' half an hour,” Janey added, raising her lips into a sneer.

  I smiled impishly at them, their rude salutations not bringing me down from my giddy high.

  “Sorry, guys. I overslept,” I lied, shrugging my shoulders.

  Kora gaped at me. “This late? We've had this planned for weeks!”

  “Shut-up, Kora,” Janey said, grabbing her by the arm. “Now that she's finally here we can go get this dress thing over with.”

  “Since when do you not want to shop?” Kora questioned her.

  “I do want to shop,” she responded briskly. “I'm just starving is all.” They continued small talk as I followed quietly behind.

  Once inside Barb's everything was going great, until Janey and Kora began trash talking each other. I was not sure how it all began, but what I did know was my head was splitting down the middle with all their belligerent comments.

  When Janey would pull a dress out, Kora would dump all over it, and when Kora pulled one out, it was Janey's turn to dump. Having no desire to get in the middle of their childish disagreements, I stayed to myself, silently browsing the racks of dresses and concentrating on finding the perfect one for me, though their meaningless chatter followed me wherever I walked.

  “So, ya don't like this one?” Kora questioned Janey, holding up a short blue dress with sequins covering the fabric.

  “No, no, it's great.” Janey replied snidely, adding, “Ya know, if you're dressin' up like a blueberry.”

  Kora's mouth dropped to the floor. “Oh, so you think the one you're holdin' is better?”

  “What's wrong with it?” Janey asked, shocked. She looked at the dress in her hands. It was also short, only silver and over-the-top shiny.

  Kora's lip curled in one corner. “It's fine, if you're going as a disco ball!”

  I had to stifle a laugh as I caught sight of Janey's face turning cherry-red. Her eyes were so narrow I thought lasers would start shooting from them.

  “Are you suggesting that I'm fat?” Janey asked in a cool voice.

  “No, I'm suggesting you're round!”

  Getting nose-to-nose with each other, Janey said, “Well, at least I'm not goin' as a cheap hooker who—”

  “Hey, hey, whoa,” I said, jumping in before it got too out of hand, getting in the middle of my two bickering friends. “Chill out! This whole day is supposed to be fun. Quit being butts and find you a dress.”

  They both turned their eyes to me.

  “Who ya calling a butt, butt?” Kora demanded.

  “Yeah!” Janey said, pouting.

  Silence circled around us for a couple of ticks, our eyes all serious and menacing. Then, realizing how stupid and immature the situation was, we all busted out in laughter. We group hugged, making up for being so idiotic to each other, tears streaming down our cheeks from our hard cackling.

  When we settled down I told them, “Anyway, I think I've found the perfect dress for moi.” I showed off the gown I had happened upon, which was a chestnut brown color. It was long, satiny, strapless, and most of all, sexy.

  Kora's eyes grew to the size of basketballs.

  “Omigosh! Clare, it's gorgeous!”

  “That dress looks like it was made for you,” Janey gushed.

  Kora agreed. “It matches your eyes, too.”

  I posed in front of a mirror, admiring it against my body.

  “You guys really like it?”

  “Yes!” they replied in unison.

  “Well then, I guess I'll get it,” I told them as I sashayed to the sales lady. “Now you guys get busy and find yours—and no more fighting!”

  “Yeah, ma, we'll be good,” Kora responded, rolling her eyes.

  An hour passed before Kora and Janey finally found what they were looking for. By the time we'd purchased our dresses and walked to our cars, it was already movie time. My tummy also
said it was eating time, its growling catching the ears of my best friends, who in return busted into giggles.

  We only had three selections at the dinky Garlandton Theater. Our choices were a sappy love story, a horror flick, or an animation film. Kora and Janey wanted horror, but I was opting for the sappiness. At the moment, horror was not on my list of favorite things, especially after all the real horror I'd experienced lately in the real world.

  Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side, since I was outnumbered. I was going to be forced to sit ninety minutes watching a masked killer chop people up with a samurai sword. Plus, to top it all off, Kora wanted to sit in the front row.

  Lucky, lucky me.

  The three of us took our seats right as the lights dimmed and the movie turned on. There was only a handful of Garlandtonites in the theater, prompting me to believe that this movie was going to stink. We dug in to our dinners which consisted of greasy popcorn, candy, and jumbo cokes, our crunching and slurping echoing throughout the theater.

  Fifteen minutes into the movie, we realized that we had made a colossal mistake choosing this particular movie—or should I say Kora and Janey made the mistake?

  “Wow,” Kora declared, her tone bored. “These are the absolute worst special effects I've ever seen. And why are all the chicks wearin' white t-shirts with no bras? I mean, really! They're in Colorado in the middle of the freakin' winter!”

  “Yeah, they should have called this film “Nipple City Massacre”,” Janey added, sipping her coke. “Anyway, all the boobs in this movie are totally fake.”

  Kora raised an eyebrow.

  “How do ya know that?”

  “Look at them,” Janey proclaimed, pointing a manicured finger at the screen. “Do real boobs float in hot tubs?”

  “Oh please,” Kora scoffed. “Just because they're floatin' don't mean they're fake.”

  “Real boobs don't float,” Janey insisted, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. I noticed she'd already eaten half of her large tub but said nothing—I wasn't doing too bad on my own tub of popcorn myself.

  Kora turned in her seat to look at me.

  “Do yours float, Clarity?”

  Appalled I asked, “Why ya askin' me for?”