A Mark Unwilling

by Candace Wondrak

  “Are you and David together?”

  I burst out laughing, causing Mike to give me a harsh, questioning glance. I don’t know if he heard her question, but if he did, I’m sure he’d laugh, too. It takes me a good moment to settle down. I wipe a fake tear from my eye. “Ah, no. He’s all yours, Deb.”

  Her cheeks turn an instant, bright pink. “That’s not what I—I didn’t mean…” She groans, opening her notebook. “I finished this last night.” She bites her lip and waits for my response.

  The oatmeal in my mouth tastes gross all of a sudden, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to swallow it without puking. Of course, that could also be due to the fact that I’m staring at a pen and pencil rendition of the front of my parents’ house.

  Mike is unconvinced. “Don’t tell me you believe in that shit.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I mutter as I set the picture down. “She didn’t draw your childhood home without ever seeing it.” Mike moves behind me, staring at the picture. I bury my face in my hands.

  I hope this doesn’t mean that the next Horseman is going to pop up at my parents’ house. But again, that feeling, that nagging suspicion that I should know better than to hope something as ridiculously stupid as that, is probably right.

  “It could be any damn house in this town. Isn’t it full of Richie Riches?” Mike attempts to explain it.

  “No,” I shake my head, pointing to the decoration on the front porch. “That’s Bob.”

  Mike stares at the three-foot tall figure, dressed in gangster apparel, with a pointy hat. “Your parents have a garden gnome named Bob on their porch? I thought they were rich.”

  “They are.” I speak wholeheartedly, “And yes, they do. No one can make up a detail like that and get it right.” David reappears, and when he walks into the room, I keep my finger on the drawing. “Look,” I tell him.

  He takes a spoonful of hot oatmeal, exclaiming, “That’s Bob!” David then grasps what it means. “That’s your parents’ house.” He sets the bowl down, deadpanning, “I swear, if this is some elaborate ruse to get us to visit, I’m not going to be happy. I know I said it’d be first on my list of things to do when the world ends, but I didn’t mean it. Everyone says things they don’t mean—”

  I hold up a hand, stopping him from carrying on, “I don’t care if you didn’t mean it. We have to go.”

  “Well if you go, I go, and if I go, I’m not leaving him—” David points to Mike Hess.

  “—in my shop alone. If we live through this, I might be able to make a living by selling to the fiends that escape from Hell.”

  Mike harrumphs, “I ain’t going! I got…a job—” His voice loses its gusto. “—that I…want to get back to.”

  I say, confidently speaking for the three other people in the room, “None of us are going to pretend that sounded sincere. You’re coming with us, or you’re leaving. It’s up to you.” I step closer to him, twirling a strand of hair around my finger, pouting. “I did save your life last night.” A shrug. “You kind of owe me, but if you want to go, I guess I understand.” I see his steely resolve wavering.

  “Damn it,” he finally says. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” He rests a hand on his holstered pistol, his badge still laying on his chest around a silver chain.

  Spinning to David, I say, “See? I’m getting better. At least I didn’t kidnap him.” I go upstairs to get my boots and coat, and to say goodbye to Xena. We’ll be back soon enough, I hope.

  “No,” David calls after me. “But you did guilt him into it.”

  “Semantics,” I say, zipping up my boots.

  David grabs his keys. “It is not semantics.”

  “I’ve heard it both ways.” I’m the first out of the door. I notice Deb following the men out, and stop her, saying, “It’s probably going to be dangerous, Deb. You can stay here.”

  “I feel bad,” Deb says. “You’re always rushing off to try and help, and I feel useless.”

  I pretend I don’t hear the word try and seek to reassure her: “You’re not useless. You draw. If it wasn’t for you, we’d have no idea where to look next. We’re going to get my parents, and then I’ll introduce you, and you’ll start to see just how I’ve become such a pain in the butt.” I give her a smile and run to the already-running car, hopping in the passenger seat.

  Chapter Four

  Within half an hour of driving through the mostly empty streets, we arrive at the long, winding driveway. I marvel at how dead the world seems. Two Horsemen of the Apocalypse show up, and the world suddenly ends?

  Yeah, that seems right, somehow.

  I sit in the passenger’s seat, and David slowly drives up the winding concrete driveway. I’d make a joke about how miserable it is shoveling it in the winter, but I think it’s obvious from the four-story house with granite pillars and two-story windows that they pay someone to take care of that for them. Hah. As if my parents do anything themselves. Cooking, cleaning, buying groceries—they have workers who do it all.

  We pull up to the grand front door, and I see a little girl in a tutu playing with Bob and a Barbie. I practically run from the car before it rolls to a stop. When the girl sees me, her face brightens with a wide smile.

  “Lexie,” she squeals, running to meet me.

  I scoop her up. Six years old, she’s definitely getting heavy. “Josefina, what are you doing here?” I smooth down her wild, frizzy hair.

  “Playing,” she says, showing me her doll. The doll’s skin is similar to Josefina’s; a dark tan—not quite black and not quite white, either. The color a white girl gets when she tans artificially too much. But on Josefina, with her hazel eyes, the color is beautiful. “Look! She’s like me!”

  I set the girl down, grinning at the girl’s happiness. “She is,” I say, gently touching the girl’s chin. “She’s perfect, just like you.”

  Josefina giggles and grabs my hand with her free one. We walk toward the house. She’s either completely unaware of David and Mike, or she chooses to focus on me as we head up the steps. “Mommy said she’s a birthday present,” she states proudly. “But it’s not my birthday!” Josefina giggles more. She dramatically hops up the steps, finding fun in the little things as only a kid could.

  It’s so sad that her mom gave it to her now, instead of on her real birthday. The world’s ending, after all. Why wait to give gifts no one will be around to enjoy?

  I wish I was that carefree when I was a kid. Even then, I knew I wasn’t normal. What kid was, with a Mark covering her entire backside? I wore long sleeves to school, even in eighty-degree weather. My parents were so well-known in the community that no one asked questions about me. That, or they paid them off.

  “Where is your mom?” I ask her, hand on the front door.

  Josefina plops beside Bob. “In there.” She continues the date between the doll and the gnome.

  I motion for David and Mike to follow, and they carefully move around Josefina, entering the house behind me. Honestly, I’m surprised it isn’t locked. Usually there’s a lot of doorbell-ringing and waiting.

  The vestibule is filled with scarcely-touched furniture, the floors polished. Not a speck of dust sits on any of the surfaces. The immaculate cleaning is thanks to Evalina, Josefina’s mother. A maid might be a stereotypical job for a single Hispanic mother, but I’ve seen my parents’ checkbook. She’s paid more than double minimum wage, and she’s able to take care of her daughter on her own because of it, and not try to rely on the father, who I hear is not in the picture.

  Giving that little girl a good life is all that should matter, anyway.

  Although…now, who knows? That might not even be possible.

  “Hello?” I speak into the seemingly empty house. “Mom, Dad?”

  Evalina pokes her head from the kitchen. Her dark hair is pulled back, her eyes, much like her daughter’s, twinkle when she sees me. “Aye, Dios mío. You are here. Your parents have called you so much, they thought…” She shakes her head. “Let me ge
t them.” She heads up the stairs.

  David stands in place, very uncomfortable in the grandiose mansion that is my parents’ house, while Mike wanders to the curio cabinet, marveling at the crystal Minnie and Mickey that rest there.

  Straightening his back, Mike moves beside me and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this fancy.” His mouth turns into a grimace beneath his scruff. “Makes me feel itchy.”

  Chuckling, I have no response to that. None whatsoever.

  Mom is the first to fly down the stairs, arms outstretched. “Honey, you’re all right! Thank God.” She kisses my cheek, noticing the two men behind me. “Ah, David. How are you?” She doesn’t even wait for him to reply before saying, “And you, you’re that guy…”

  “Mike Hess, mam. FBI.” Mike’s nice lumberjack poise is back. He offers his hand with a warm smile. “You have a lovely home. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Mom takes his hand and shakes it, uncertain, and I lift my eyebrows at his theatrics.

  “Forgive me,” she says after the handshake. “After all that’s happened, my mind is simply elsewhere.” Behind her, Dad and Evalina appear. “Look at that, honey,” she says to him. “Our daughter finally comes to visit us, and she brought David—and the FBI agent we met at the hospital.”

  Dad gives a warm, welcoming smile. “Hey, Kiddo.” He pretty much ignores everyone but me. Worrying about my Mark, I can safely assume.

  Everyone is silent.

  After a while (and a few awkward glances later), I burst out, “How about them Horsemen, huh? They’re…something else, right?” As if they’re some sports team. What’s wrong with me? Like asking about the weather or something pointless like that.

  Jeez.

  When everyone stares at me like I grew a third eye, I say, “Gee, I’m parched. Got any lemonade?”

  Grateful to get away from the silence, Evalina, though she isn’t in charge of the kitchen, says, “Yes. I will fetch some drinks.” She quickly goes into the kitchen.

  “Where are the others?” I ask as we walk into the large, spacious living room. A stone fireplace is its centerpiece, coupled with a seventy-inch flat screen. Mom and Dad sit beside each other on the sofa. I take the chair, leaving Mike and David to share the couch.

  Evalina returns with a tray of lemonade and tea. Everyone gets lemonade but my parents.

  “We let them go, to be with their families,” Mom explains, casually sipping her tea as if pure madness and mayhem isn’t taking place a few hours away.

  “And Evalina and Josefina?” I say.

  As if on cue, Evalina walks into the room, Josefina hanging tight onto her hand. The girl sprints to me, snuggling up to me on the chair. “This is my family,” Evalina says, making both my parents smile.

  A lovely sentiment; I hope it doesn’t get her killed.

  “We’re not staying here,” I practically shout into the room. “I mean, we came to get you.”

  Mom nearly spits out her tea. Dad seems more reasonable, saying, “That’s very nice, but why would we leave? This is our home. I’m sorry, Kiddo, but we’re staying here. You and your friends are welcome to stay here with us; there’s plenty of room.”

  Evalina takes the hint, standing and heading up the stairs once again, to ready rooms that we, I assure you, won’t be staying in.

  “We can’t. We left someone in David’s shop,” I say, “and Xena. She’s there, too.”

  Mom frowns, her manicure tapping on the glass. She isn’t a fan of animals in general. “She’s a cat. You being with us is more important.”

  “Did you miss the part about how we left someone there?” I’m shocked, although I really shouldn’t be.

  Mom’s eyes roll as Dad kindly says, “Then call your friend and tell them to come here. Like I said, plenty of room.” He smiles as he swigs his sweetened tea.

  Mike gets himself comfortable on the couch. “It is a nice place.”

  I stare at him, incredulous. What a switch. “No,” I’m as firm as possible, “we’re not—” The sound of breaking glass stops me, and we hear a loud scream. I jump to my feet, handing Josie off to my mom. I’m up the stairs in seconds, following the noises of a scuffle.

  No, no, no. We were supposed to get in, get out, before anything bad happened…

  After telling my parents to stay where they are, I hightail my speed, taking two stairs at a time, which, for a person of my stature, is quite hard to do. A scream dies in the air seconds after it’s released. I make it to the guest room on the third floor—the one with a seashell theme. David and Mike are on my heels, skidding to a stop.

  The grandiose bedroom’s windows, completely shattered, lay in dangerously sharp pieces on the floor. The mirror on the dresser is in exactly the same condition. In the middle of the glass, a robed man stands, yanking his dagger from Evalina’s throat. Her body falls to the floor, blood oozing onto the glass shards. The man turns to us, smiling. On his forehead rests that same, ugly tattoo.

  I hate that tattoo. I hate all the killing. I hate the fact that no matter what I do, I can’t stop it.

  It must be some sort of cult. But what cult would want to bring forth the end of the world?

  Behind me, Mike unholsters his pistol, hesitating for only a second, and fires a shot before I can shout: “No!”

  The bullet hits the man in the head. As his fingers let go of the dagger and the metal drops to the carpet, I swear I see his grin widen. He blinks a few times, and then his body collapses onto Evalina’s. Their blood mingles, intertwining. With a mind of its own, the blood crawls into a circle and begins glowing.

  Mom and Dad are suddenly there. “What…” Mom’s words halt when she sees Evalina and the intruder. She steps in front of Josie so that the little girl cannot see her mother’s mangled body. “In our own house, dear,” she whispers to Dad, tears stinging her eyes, threatening to smudge her makeup. Still, they’re not nearly as stunned as they should be, given that this is their first Horseman.

  “David,” I say, turning to my Warlock friend, “get them out of here.”

  “Supernatural taxi service coming up.” David snatches Josefina. A portal opens on the wall, and he tugs the child through. It closes after he and Josie disappear through it. Humans couldn’t make such things appear or keep them going. A specialty of only Warlocks.

  “Go to the car,” I tell my parents, not wanting to waste any time.

  “We’re not going anywhere without you,” Dad says, grabbing for my hand.

  “No,” I say, hearing the bubbling of blood forming into a horse and rider to my back. “I can distract him.” As I say it, David reappears with his portal and reaches for my mom. I refocus on the Horseman, watching in horror as the blood coating the deadly thing falls to the floor to reveal a truly putrid, hideous beast. “Mike, take my stubborn dad to the car.”

  Mike, weapon in one hand, takes my father’s arm in the other, attempting to pull him along. But my dad, like me, is one stubborn son of a gun. He manages to outmaneuver the FBI agent, stating, “I’m not leaving until my daughter’s safe.”

  Before I can tell him to take my dad next, David appears and grabs Mike, the nearest person to him, taking him through the portal.

  A rancid smell courses through the air, and I’m quick to hold my nose, glancing at the horse and rider. The horse’s flesh, mostly black with gouges of green, rots. Its unholy eyes ooze some kind of liquid. Its hooves are cracked, maggots wriggling inside the grooves. The rider, wearing the same type of armor as the others, looks much in the same manner as his horse. Its skin is rotting, bones peeking out every few inches. Unlike the others, though, his one has a face, but its eyes, its nose, its lips—they’re wholly gone, rotted off his face, probably. His jaw hangs off, like it’s been broken and his foul skin isn’t strong enough to hold it in place. The horns on his helmet, made of green smoke, sizzle in the air as they rise and evaporate.

  The horse paws at the ground, and the rider looks at me with his eyeless sockets. I see that instead o
f a weapon, he holds a scale. A pair of balances. It begins to lift them in the air. At the moment, the balances are perfectly level. Something tells me they won’t stay that way for long.

  “Dad,” I say, shooting him a pleading look. “Please go. I can handle this.” Hands are placed on my arms, and I’m moved aside. Dad, the fool, puts himself between the Horseman and his daughter—the girl who can’t die.

  What is he thinking?

  “No. Take your mother with you. Don’t go anywhere else.” He hugs me, and I’m too startled, too shocked, to react properly. “You’re the key,” he whispers, pushing me into David’s arms.

  “No!” I yell, eyes widening as the Horseman’s balance falls drastically to the left. Unbalanced, and he points it right at Dad. “David, let me go—” I struggle against him, seeking to step between the Horseman and Dad. The Horseman wouldn’t hurt me—none of the others could. Why would this one be any different? Why wouldn’t he let me help him?

  The rider’s hanging mouth opens to an unnatural length. It’s as if his rotting skin stretches, and out of the black abyss that is his mouth comes a thick mist of bugs. They instantly clog the air, rushing toward Dad. David pulls me to the portal, and we go through it, despite my protest.

  The bugs bite his white skin, and then he’s not white anymore. He’s instantly decaying, flesh sagging. Dad’s caught with his arms in the air, trying to swat the pests away, but he doesn’t make it through a single wave. By the time his arms fall, his shirt is torn and ragged. His skin is a mixture of yellow, green, and brown.

  The last thing I see before the portal closes is my dad falling down, shrunken and shriveled like a mummy, his skin rotting.

  We portal directly to the car, and David pushes me inside, next to Mom and Josie, who plays with her doll like nothing disastrous just happened. Like I didn’t just watch my dad die, or Evalina.

  David starts the car and presses on the gas. He wipes perspiration from his brow, his breathing labored. It’s hard work, pulling one, let alone five, Humans through a portal only meant for those with Warlock blood. His magic would be depleted for a while. If he overexerts himself too much, he’d die. Warlocks, though they stop aging at a certain point, are not immortal. They can die just like anything.