A Mark Unwilling

by Candace Wondrak

  I force out a sigh. Becoming an evil sidekick to the Devil’s son is not on my bucket list. “Forget it.”

  His eyes move away from me as he whispers, “It’s probably what is best. It would involve a bit of blood magic I am certain your kind is unfamiliar and uncomfortable with.”

  Blood magic?

  I do not like the sound of that.

  I make it to a wide tree, leaning on it for support. Michael practically sapped every ounce of my strength. It’s like learning to walk all over again. Not very fun. Not that my life is very fun, anyway, because it’s definitely not.

  Josie’s defiantness makes me bang a fist on the tree bark.

  “I can’t believe it,” I mutter to myself, hitting the tree again. “Why would she do that?”

  “The young do not know the ramifications of their actions,” he says, standing behind me. The turd is probably enjoying the sight of my misery.

  I’m too tired, too exhausted, and far too worried about Josefina to think of a witty comeback. I hit the tree another time, and then another. I do it until my fist is bloody and I can’t do it anymore. Spinning and planting my back on the tree, I slide down it and cover my face. My hand hurts, my knuckles ache, but I know I’ll heal.

  That’s the problem, I guess. I’m so used to charging in without thinking—like I did to the ritual, to Michael—regardless of what the consequences might be. If I get hurt, so what? I can sleep for a night and be better in the morning. All because of my stupid Mark.

  I wonder what my life could have been like if I wasn’t Marked. Sure, I’d die in this apocalypse, but I could’ve lived my life like a normal kid. A close circle of friends, sleepovers, doctor’s visits, boyfriends. Normalcy never sounded more good than it does right now.

  But then, if my parents never sold my soul, I would’ve never met David, or Josie, or even Deb. Would I really be okay with trading that away for a normal life?

  “I’m so tired,” I whisper to my hands.

  “You cannot be tired. It’s only just begun.”

  I tear myself away from my stupor of regret and desolation, glaring at him with all the hatred I can muster. That amount of hatred seems to be dwindling, though. Maybe I’m just running out of hate—or maybe I’m starting to realize not everything and everyone is black and white. It’s where I fall, I think, in the grey area.

  Devil Jr., though, I’m not sure where he falls. More towards the black.

  I am slow to stand, gripping the tree behind me for support. I meet his Human gaze. “Now what?”

  “Now—”

  His explanation is cut off as the earth rumbles below us. A hungry, vicious growl, originating deep within the planet. An animal, it sounds like…a starving beast ready to devour everything. The ground shakes violently, and I immediately lose my balance. I lurch forward, straight into my owner’s chest. I wouldn’t mind being attached to that chest, if it belonged to literally any other man. But Devil Jr.? No thanks.

  Nothing in the world could make me feel otherwise. Nope. Not happening.

  The harsh earthquake continues for minutes on end. Never once does it let up or let me regain my balance. Devil Jr., though, acts unaffected. He stands perfectly straight, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He keeps me upright. How nice of him.

  When the earth finally decides to calm itself, I push myself out of his grip, mouth ajar to ask just what the heck that was about, but words escape me. I have a feeling they’re going to do that a lot in the upcoming days. Why am I speechless, you ask? Oh, I’m getting there.

  The silver moon is silver no longer. A dark red hue replaces its shimmery natural color, coating the landscape in a color I associate only with blood.

  “Blood moon,” Devil Jr. whispers, clearly in awe. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I gawk. Beautiful? Sure, in a creepy horror movie way. It’s just lovely. Magical. “What does this mean for earth? For the people on it?”

  “It means nothing for the Humans. For others whose power comes from the moon, from the night…” He stops, because he knows he gave me too much information. I can see behind the blueness of his eyes, he calculates whether I’m putting it together.

  And I am.

  “My friends are with Vampires,” I say. “We have to—”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” he whispers in a growl. “I am not obliged to help your friends any more than I have.”

  “Well I am! I have to! I—” An invisible force chokes out whatever else I’m about to say. Not hard enough to strangle, but definitely hard enough to make a bruise. I make a futile attempt at grabbing whatever is holding me, but end up only looking stupid.

  Very Darth Vader-like, Devil Jr. loosens his invisible grip as he says, “I do not think you understand this, yet. You come with me, not the other way around.”

  “I’m sorry I have a conscience. Not a huge one, but it’s there,” I say, willing to beg and grovel and basically do whatever I have to do to get back to them, to save Josie. “You would let Vampires murder and eat that little girl? I can’t let that happen to Josefina.”

  He steps back, cocking his head, yet the grip remains around my neck, pressing me against the tree I’d beaten up with my fist. “Children perish every day. They always have. You merely didn’t see it.”

  Ouch.

  Okay, that’s true.

  “How can you stand back and enjoy this?” I accuse him, “You’ve never left your fiery pit before this, I bet. You’ve never had friends. You probably don’t even have a good relationship with Daddy Dearest.” I ignore the invisible hand on my throat, despite its sudden squeezing.

  His blue eyes narrow, and a look of utter fury crosses them. “Do not speak to me about my father. You know nothing of him. You know nothing of us!”

  “I know that you both are giddy with glee over this end-of-the-world stuff,” I mutter. “I may not have read the bible front to back, but I know your sweet papa has done some awful things—”

  “Everyone and everything is capable of doing awful things,” he spits, his voice raising. “Your kind is the worst—feigning morality and starting pointless wars. The poor and homeless starve. Children are forced to fight in wars their parents began. At least the wars we fight, we fight for a purpose other than resources like gold and land!”

  “Then what do you fight for? Glory? To rule Heaven?” I shake my head. “Like those are better?” The grip around my neck disappears when he laughs in disbelief. I remain against the tree, unwilling to fully confront him yet. I can’t believe we’ve gotten this far along with the argument. “Don’t pretend to be righteous. Don’t act like you’re better than humanity. You might be stronger and have magic, not to mention big fire wings, but I have news for you: that doesn’t make you better than us.”

  A shiver runs down my spine when he glares at me. “Doesn’t it?” he questions. “Doesn’t it make me better? I never pretended to be something I am not. Can your kind say the same?” When he breathes, a puff of smoke comes out.

  “I never pretend,” I say, hands curling into fists. My cracked and bleeding knuckles ache, but I don’t address the pain. At this point in my life, I’m used to pain. “And I bet if you didn’t transform, I could take you. Bet you wouldn’t be going on and on about how much better you are than us after I kick your butt.”

  “Are you offering to fight me?” He sounds incredulous. Through the anger, a smile surfaces. “Strong words, for such a weak Human.”

  I push him. Well, I try to. What I end up doing is push my own feet back. The freak is like a wall. A brick wall, sturdily built. He doesn’t even sway. Straightening myself, I throw a punch. He catches it, checking out his fingernails as he does so, without a look in my direction. I hook my ankle around his, seeking to knock him over. But, like before, he doesn’t move. His hand encompasses my whole fist, and he yanks it forward, simultaneously sweeping a foot beneath me.

  I’m the one that falls.

  Son of a gun.

  “Are you fi
nished?” he asks, annoyed.

  I respond by lifting a foot and aiming for his manhood. Devil Jr. catches it as he rolls his eyes. With a groan, I whisper, “Now I’m done.” He is slow to let my foot go, and I know I should take it easy, but my mind is one-track. All I can think about is Josie, David, Deb, Mom—heck, even Mike. How they’re stuck with Vampires. A blood moon doesn’t bring warm, happy feelings.

  Fighting him isn’t going to work. Clearly, I have to think of something else. Flattery barely worked before. Besides flattery and fighting, what else is there? As I lay there, my mind searches for a solution. It comes to one eventually, but it’s a solution I despise. A solution that goes against everything I am and everything I want to be.

  I get to my feet, hyper aware of his watchful gaze, and draw a finger along his chest. I hold back vomit as I say, “How about we go save my friends, and then we go somewhere private and…” Instead of being a sensual caress, I end up poking him and awkwardly ending it, “Do stuff.”

  A single brow lifts as he asks, uninterested in my pathetic attempt, “Are you trying to…seduce me?”

  “That depends,” I say slowly, finger still on his chest, “is it working?”

  His silence tells me all I need to know.

  I pull my finger from him, saying, “I give up. I don’t need your help anyways. I can do it myself. I’ll just waltz in there, by myself, and save them—although, I don’t know where it is, or how to get there…and I’ve never faced a pack of Vamps before.” Now I’m mostly talking to myself. “I wonder what would happen to me if I’m drained of all blood…” My worrying stumbles to a halt when I realize that Devil Jr. is observing my crazy tendency of talking to myself.

  “You would seek to disobey me and fight Vampires all to save your friends?” As he asks the question, he acts confused. He doesn’t understand, probably because he’s never had any friends.

  “I would do anything for them.” Raw, honest. The sincerity of my voice stuns me. In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever said something so serious, and meant it with every fiber of my being. Mostly I’m talking about Josie and David (and my mom, I guess), but Deb proved herself when she brought me to where David was taken.

  Mike…well, I’m still a little upset about the trying-to-kill-me business, even if he didn’t have a choice about it.

  “Oddly noble,” he finally says. After thinking for a few moments, he then asks, “If you get your friends out, where will they go? Nowhere will be safe. Perhaps you should let them perish now and save them from the perilous life ahead.”

  “This thing isn’t going to last forever.” Even as I say it, I don’t know how true it is. “After it’s over, I’m sure some will be around to rebuild. I want my friends to be a part of that. They deserve to survive.”

  He moves closer, inches from me, and my eyes stare into his chest. Whereas David smells like incense with traces of mint, Devil Jr.’s scent is one of smoke, musky like a campfire. Heat radiates off him, which makes sense, considering who and what he is. Not an entirely bad smell, and I instantly hate myself for thinking that.

  “Even if you’re not with them in the end?” he asks, his voice quiet. “Because you won’t be. You’ll be with me.” He grabs my injury-free hand, putting it in the tiny space between us, flipping it so that my Mark is somewhat visible under my leather jacket. “Those who are Marked will not be welcomed on the World After. You would spend your energy on those who would abandon you when the time is right?”

  “Real friends never abandon each other,” I say, flicking my eyes up to meet his. Such a deep, navy blue. Pretty eyes, for the Devil’s son. “No matter what.”

  “Naïve,” he replies, sluggishly releasing his grip on my wrist. My hand falls to my side. “Everyone has a breaking point. Even you, Lexa.”

  A chill runs through me. I do not like the sound of that, and I definitely don’t like how my name sounds coming from his mouth. A professional conman, trying to trick me by sounding trustworthy and warm, with a dazzling smile to match.

  I’m smarter than that.

  “I’m sure you’ll get me there,” I say, my usual sarcasm back. “But not today. Today I make sure my friends aren’t Vamp food, and I have a feeling it’d go a lot better if I had an angry Devil behind me.” I wait a moment before asking, “Unless you have somewhere else you have to be? Something else to go do? More pouting, maybe?”

  Still standing far too close for comfort, he angles his head down, smiling. “Perhaps I was wrong about you. I enjoy a challenge as much as the next unholy Prince.” He steps back, gleeful as a schoolgirl. “All right. Let’s go, then.”

  I growl out, “I am not a challenge.”

  All he does is smile more.

  I slip my hand into his, my knuckles stitching themselves back together, and we portal away.

  Men. Ridiculously stupid, man or Devil.

  We portal to the hallway, directly in front of our neighboring rooms. The fiery portal vanishes with a puff of clenched smoke, and I pull away from Devil Jr.’s grip, frantically running in the room where I last left Josie with Deb and Eve. Nothing but messed-up furniture. The lower mattress is tossed up, leaning against the wall. The chair where Deb sat lays on the floor, its legs broken. I see the notebook laying haphazardly on the carpet, and walk to pick it up.

  Most of the pictures are ones I’ve seen before. All except one…one of a Vampire who looks familiar. Long, straight hair, skin covered in blood. At least, I think it’s blood. Hard to tell since the drawing is in pencil. She holds the neck of a Human girl, her sharp teeth bared, her eyes crazy.

  And then I realize who the Vampire is.

  The one who took me from David’s shop. The one who I saw feeding on a Sape.

  I abruptly stand and run to the other room, checking it, thinking that maybe they holed themselves in David and Mike’s room. Nothing. I emerge into the hall, glancing both ways. Eerily quiet. I wait a moment and hear no scuffles, no screams. Nothing; nothing but unnerving silence.

  “I don’t like this,” I whisper, mostly to myself, since I figure Devil Jr. doesn’t have anything else.

  Next I check the mess hall. The door to the great room hangs open, off its hinges. Bloody handprints sit on the walls, and I see a mangled body lying atop the counter. Limbs torn from the torso, head severed. The dark skin drips with blood, streaming from each wound, and I cover my mouth when I notice the dozen or so bite marks littering the corpse.

  A Sape who thought she was safe with the Vamps. A family member, a lover. Whoever she was before, she’d never be again. What a horrid way to go.

  I push past Devil Jr., who is simply going along with the ride, and sprint down the hall. After a turn, I come onto the common area where I listened to the Vampires tell stories about Billy’s odd fashion sense and horror stories involving laundry. The light hangs, flicking on and off every few seconds.

  The head of the Sape I saw with the Vampire who initially brought me to Cloud sits on the couch. Her arms hang out of the cushions, as do her legs. Her decapitated head is frozen in a scream, her eyes open. On the opposite chair, another Sape sits, his body folded like a letter. Spinal cord snapped, bent into itself in a grizzly display of strength. From the folds of skin at the neck, I can tell the head was turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Bite marks on every inch of revealed flesh. They were food first and foremost, and then they were playthings.

  “You left your friends with these beasts?” Devil Jr. asks, shaking his head slightly, as if he already knows what we’ll find. “A shame.” He doesn’t sound too brokenhearted about it.

  As knowledge of the possibility sweeps over me, I say, “Until we find them…” Alive or dead, but I can’t say it aloud. I don’t want the latter to be true. “I’m not leaving.”

  All he does is sigh.

  I push forward, hope slowly dwindling, despite my best effort to keep the small flicker alive. David is still too weak to portal everyone out. Himself, maybe. But four other Humans? Too much for th
e recently-tortured Warlock. Mike lost his gun during his stay at the Children of the Corn knockoff cult, probably. Even if he did still have his pistol, bringing a gun into a fight with a Vampire is like bringing a rusted old switchblade to a gunfight.

  Vampires are too fast for bullets unless they’re caught off-guard. Insane Vampires? Next to impossible. They’re too erratic to predict movements.

  I follow a trail of blood and come to the closed-off room where I first met Cloud and his gaggle of Vamps. Nest, I remind myself. Vampires are not like geese. They’re not animals; they’re worse. Vicious, parasitic, morality-deprived. I saw enough evidence already.

  A big, giant splatter of dark red paints the door, like a Vamp decided to take a body and wham it against the door as he would a sledgehammer. A messy, gory pulp of flesh and bone sits at my feet, and I carefully step over it and try the knob. Locked, of course.

  I press my ear to the door, seeking to hear who’s inside.

  And, thank everything that is still good, I hear crying.

  “Josie,” I say, knocking a rhythm on the door. “Josie, is that you?”

  “Lexie!” she squeals through tears, and I hear a shushing noise. The room grows quiet again. There’s faint murmuring, what sounds like a hushed argument.

  I meet eyes with my tagalong, and it comes to me: they think I’m under his influence. They think I’m not safe. After everything, I can’t blame them. It is a logical conclusion—but it’s wrong. Somehow, someway, I’m still me. And right now, I’m here to help them.

  “Can you get me in there?” I ask him. When he gives me a look that says the last thing he wants to do is be helpful, I grab his arm and squeeze softly. “Please.”

  He sighs, not too thrilled about aiding me. But, to his credit (if he deserves any), he portals us inside. The arguing group freezes and pales at the sight of us. Surprisingly, I see Darren, Billy, and the Vamp chick who speaks in broken English, along with my ragtag group. They seem quite normal, if a little apprehensive about our sudden appearance. The Betrayer, AKA Super Agent Awesome, has a small handgun. Scavenged off one of the dead, or maybe given to him by one of the three Vamps left standing and still sane.