Inception (The Marked Book 1)

by Bianca Scardoni

  It took every bit of strength I had left to pry open my eyes from the noxious slumber and watch as a dark-haired stranger ripped Dominic away from me and hauled him off in a backwards bear hug.

  “What have you done?” he hissed, throwing Dominic back several feet onto the ground.

  The man stood glowing under the overhead spotlight. Tall and resolute, with strong, angled shoulders and the kind of warm, caring face you wanted to believe in, and for a moment, the way he looked at me, I thought maybe I had died and he was an Angel coming to collect my soul and carry me away to the hereafter.

  Dominic’s chilling laughter assaulted the air as he picked himself up from the ground and brushed the dirt off himself. “Hello to you, too, Gabriel. Is that any way to greet your only brother?” asked Dominic, grinning wildly as he stammered back a few steps, looking almost intoxicated.

  His brother?

  “You’re a damned fool,” replied Gabriel, his voice a quiet fury. “They’re going to kill you for this, and you know what, Dominic? This time, I’m not going to stop them.”

  “It was worth it, brother. She tastes even better than she looks, if you can conceive of it,” said Dominic, taking a predatory step towards me as though hungry for more.

  Gabriel stepped in his path, keeping his back to me. I pulled my legs up closer to my chest and trembled violently. I wasn’t sure if it was from the blood loss or fear. Probably both.

  “Ever the martyr,” laughed Dominic. “I suppose that means you’re not interested in indulging in her then? I assure you, there’s no better elixir than the blood of a Slayer.”

  I winced.

  It made me sick to my stomach to realize he knew what I was all this time. That he was just playing with me—preying on me—waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But how? How had he been able to control himself all this time?

  “We can always get rid of the body together,” continued Dominic callously. “I’m sure it would make for a wonderful, brotherly bonding experience.”

  Gabriel’s head spun around at the sound of my whimper. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

  He started to move towards me but stopped abruptly, choosing instead to keep a safe distance between the two of us. “Are you okay?” he asked me, his voice soft but commanding, a flawless harmony that matched his face perfectly.

  I wanted to answer him. I wanted to tell him how not okay I was, or lie for that matter and tell him that I was perfectly fine and just wanted to be on my merry way, but I couldn’t say anything. I just sat there in a ball, frozen on the ground with my back against the stone wall, trying to stop my body from shaking.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, crouching down a few feet away from me. His short hair was longer in the front and covered his forehead and part of his eyebrows, and even though I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes in the dark, I knew they were soft and I instantly felt safe gazing into them.

  “He’s telling you the truth, angel,” said Dominic as he took another gut-churning step towards me. “You have nothing to worry about. He only kills our kind. Isn’t that right, Gabriel?”

  I didn’t even attempt to understand what he was saying, I already knew not to trust a word of it. Everything he said sounded like a lie, a threat, and it turned my skin to ice.

  “Can you stand?” asked Gabriel, ignoring him.

  I wasn’t sure. I’d been too petrified to move.

  Gabriel nodded gently, encouraging me to try. I couldn’t explain it but there was something about him that I wanted to trust. Something telling me I would be safe to try with him here. He had, after all, just saved my life.

  Slowly, and with his protective eyes on me, I angled my legs to the side and reached for the wall behind me as I began trying to wrench myself up. Gabriel rose with me, mirroring my gradual pace as I tried to stand on shaky legs.

  “Looks like I took a little too much,” goaded Dominic. “Gluttony’s always been a tough one for me.”

  The sound of his cackle, and the surge of blood rushing from my head to my legs, threw me into a tailspin and sent me tumbling forward through the air. I only felt the fall for a second before Gabriel’s arms were around me, steadying me against his chest.

  The last thing I remembered were those moss-colored eyes.

  17. THE HUNTINGTON INQUIRY

  I woke up alone in an unfamiliar room with a blinding headache and a raw throat that begged for liquids. The room was sizable, dated with ornately carved ceilings and Victorian furniture, and there was a quiet fire burning, coloring the room with a dancing pallet of gold and orange. I had no idea where I was, or how long I had been here, and with the curtains drawn as they were, I wasn’t even sure if it was day or night anymore.

  I let my legs drop over the daybed and tried to stand up, realizing fairly quickly that I was in no shape to attempt that twice. I sat back down and took in a few steadying breaths as I tried to piece together exactly what had happened to me.

  As quickly as the picture appeared, so did the tremors and the petrifying fear I felt when Dominic fixed me to his body and nearly drained me to death. The surge of overwhelming emotions were telling me one thing—to get out of this place. The only problem was, I wasn’t sure where ‘this place’ was.

  Before I could chart my exit, the door creaked open and Gabriel appeared holding a glass in his hand. The sight of his face, and those kind, unearthly eyes, immediately helped quell some of the rising panic in me, though I couldn’t help but wonder if his brother was also lurking somewhere nearby.

  He took a few steps towards me, then stopped suddenly as though something had just stepped out in front of him. “May I?” he asked. He was asking my permission to approach me.

  I nodded, but scooted back on the daybed just the same.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked in a soothing voice as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of me, holding out the glass of orange juice for me. “Are you dizzy or nauseated?”

  I stared down at the juice, my throat burning for a taste of it like the arid desert ached for a touch of the rain, though I was unsure if I could trust him.

  What if he drugged it? What if Dominic convinced him to “indulge” in me after all and they laced the juice with some kind of poison to knock me out? What if this whole thing was a trap?

  But if that were the case, wouldn’t they also be poisoning themselves if they then drank my blood?

  “Would you prefer a bottle of water?” he asked, lowering the glass. I could only imagine what my face looked like as I debated whether or not I could take the drink.

  This is ridiculous, I scolded myself. If he wanted to harm me, he would have done it while I was out cold and defenseless.

  I shook my head and took the glass from him, nearly downing the entire contents in one swallow. “Thank you,” I said, my voice still raspy from the drought. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A few hours. You look a lot better though,” he remarked, examining my face. “Most of your color seems to have returned.”

  “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “It’s normal,” he assured me, rising from his chair. He moved to the corner armoire and produced a quilt from it. “You lost quite a bit of blood, and you’re probably still feeling the after-effects from the shock,” he continued as he opened the quilt in front of me and then draped it around my shoulders before taking his seat again.

  I tightened the blanket around myself. “Thank you for tonight…for being there. You saved my life.”

  “You should thank your sister. I was only doing what she asked me to do.”

  “My sister? You know Tessa?”

  He tipped his head. “She asked me to look in on you while I was in town. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

  “You came soon enough,” I remarked, afraid to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t shown up at all.

  “How much do you remember?” he asked, his tone contrite.

  “Everything.”
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  He looked saddened by this. I wasn’t sure if his sympathy was for me, or for his brother.

  “You must have questions.”

  That was the understatement of the year. “I don’t even know where to start,” I said through chattering teeth.

  “Start wherever you’re comfortable.”

  “I don’t understand how this happened. All this time...He never tried to...I mean, the other ones, they always...” I shook my head, frustrated with my inability to formulate a sentence. “He just seemed so human.”

  “But he isn’t. Neither of us are.”

  “So you’re a...you’re one too?” I drew myself further back away from him. I wanted no part of him.

  “Yes. I am a Revenant.”

  “How is this possible then?” I asked shakily, referring to our face-to-face conversation. “Why aren’t you trying to attack me like the other ones? You’re not acting like a...”

  “Like a monster? A predator?” His lips took a downturn.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I assure you, those urges are always there,” he said, lowering his head. His dark hair sweeping over his soft, angelic eyes. “It’s a part of who I am now, but I can control it.”

  This didn’t make any sense. If there was one point my uncle drilled home harder than the rest, it was that Revenants did not control themselves. Ever. They had no semblance of humanity, they were predators created to kill. Was all of that a lie?

  “Are you saying Revenants can control themselves?”

  “No,” he said sternly. “They cannot.”

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. “But you can?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you a different type of Revenant?”

  “Not exactly,” he replied cryptically, studying my reaction. “It’s not what I am now that separates me from other Revenants. It’s what I was before.”

  “What were you before?” I asked, beside myself with curiosity. I hadn’t realized I’d been inching closer to him.

  “A Descendant.”

  The room fell to silence as I sat back in my seat and let the weight of his words sink in.

  “A Descendant,” I repeated. It was neither a statement nor a question, but something in the middle.

  He dipped his head.

  “And that’s why you’re different?”

  He nodded again. “The Revenant infection doesn’t affect Descendants in the same way that it does a human being,” he explained. “Mortals are fragile. Their souls are vulnerable. They’re not built to withstand the reanimation process.”

  “You mean the coming back to life part?”

  “Yes,” he nodded once. “They come back warped— destabilized. They don’t have any natural defenses against what’s coming. Most of the time, it only takes a couple of days, sometimes just a few hours, before the infection takes over completely, overwriting their entire existence. Their humanity is always the first thing to go.”

  A wave of nausea washed through me.

  “But Descendants are stronger, we’re much more resilient,” he explained. “While we can’t stop the transformation, it doesn’t overtake us the way it does a human. The vessel changes, some of the mechanics change, but we’re still in control of the wheel.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a vampire,” I noted. “Maybe you’re something else? Something new?” I was grasping at straws now.

  “I knew my Maker. I am a Revenant,” he said definitively.

  “So you drink blood?” My voice cracked at the tail end of the question.

  “I do—never human though, and only because I need it to survive.” The sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “My body will always react to the scent of blood, even in spite of me, but unlike other Revenants, I can decide whether or not to follow through with the urges—with the bloodlust,” he explained, visibly torn by his reality. “That is the perpetual war inside of me. Between my mind and my body.”

  How could he live this way? How could anyone live this way? It was as though he were a conscious man trapped inside the body of a beast. It was the very definition of a living nightmare.

  “What about Dominic?” I felt my throat constrict as my mind shifted to him. “If he can control this, why did he attack me?”

  He paused before answering. “Because he chose to.”

  I didn’t know how to absorb that.

  “He wanted to know what you were—if you were a Slayer. There’s been some debate about it…” His voice trailed off as though he were unsure of the terrain he was treading on.

  “Because of the spell,” I realized aloud.

  He nodded.

  Jeez, did everyone know about me?

  “But that doesn't excuse what he did,” he said, his tone saturated with contempt for his brother. “There were other ways to find out. What Dominic did to you was a testament of what he really is. Of what he’s always been.”

  “And what would that be, brother?” Dominic moved through the door so quickly, I barely registered the movement.

  Gabriel sat back in his chair undaunted, his back to his brother and eyes on me. “I don’t know, Dominic—a savage, cruel, disturbed, evil. Take your pick.”

  Dominic brought his hand up to his heart and mocked pain before turning his eyes to me. “Hello, angel.” His lips twisted into a devious knot, sending a jolt of anxiety through my body.

  “Back off, Dominic.” Gabriel’s facial expression darkened, his voice a low, threatening drawl.

  “Relax, brother. I’m only here to answer her questions,” he said as he sat down on another chair just a few feet away from me. “Wouldn’t you like some answers?” he asked sweetly.

  Deceivingly sweet.

  I could hardly stand to look at his face anymore, and even though his very presence evoked tremors in me, I couldn’t deny the fact that I did need answers from him. Who knew if I’d ever get another chance to ask my questions?

  My heart rate picked up.

  “You just need to say the word and I’ll remove him,” said Gabriel. His moss eyes were sharp, promising to hold fast to every word. I couldn’t explain it, but somehow I felt safe being around Dominic when Gabriel was watching over me, like I knew I’d be protected from him—to the death.

  I turned and faced Dominic, summoning every ounce of courage I had inside of me. It turned out there wasn’t much in there. “You bit me to see if I was a—” I gulped hard as the ball in my throat threatened strangulation.

  “A Slayer,” answered Dominic, finishing my question. “Yes. Amongst other reasons.” His impish smile made me queasy.

  “Am I?”

  His smile widened. “Why, yes, angel, you are.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I tasted it,” he said, wetting his lips. “Your blood is nothing like human blood, love. It's richer, sweeter, more potent, an all-encompassing magical rush.” There was hunger and desire dancing all through his face now. “I imagine it is as close to Heaven as I’ll ever be allowed to get.”

  My stomach twisted. “Were you trying to kill me?”

  “No, but I suppose it was touch and go for a while there, wasn’t it?” he chortled. “Normally, I don’t have any trouble controlling myself, but with Slayers, well, you never know which way it’ll go.”

  “So you knew there was a chance I was a Slayer, and you bit me anyway, knowing you couldn’t control yourself if I was?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  I glanced over at Gabriel who was sat unflinching in his chair, watching me intently. He knew the answer, and so did I. Dominic Huntington was a monster.

  “Did you know who I was from the beginning?” I had to know.

  “I did.”

  I took in a breath. “Was that the only reason you…” I couldn’t find the nerve to finish the question, and I hated myself for asking it.

  “Was that the only reason I took an interest?”

  I nodded.

  “What other reason would there be?” His eyes we
re as menacing as black ice. I never knew eyes could be so cruel.

  The lump in my throat tightened as tears of frustration began to pool in my eyes, blurring my vision.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  “Oh, I see,” smiled Dominic, rising from his chair in one fluid motion. “You want to know if I liked you? If I ever felt anything for you? If you were ever more than a pawn piece in my game of chess?” He was laughing now, mocking me, pouring pails of saline onto my already burning wounds.

  I felt tears begin to trickle down my cheeks, and I slapped them away, angry that they’d fallen without my consent. I was hurt, and humiliated. And I’d heard enough.

  “I want to go home,” I said, my chin quivering as I fought to keep the tears at bay.

  “Aw, don’t be like that, angel. We’re just getting started.”

  “Come on,” said Gabriel as he rose to his feet and offered his hand. “I’ll take you home.”

  The rustling silhouettes of trees bowed back and forth before us as they zipped in and out of view. There was something gripping about their sway, almost prophetic, like they knew the secrets of the world and rocked to the music of its lies.

  “Can I ask you a question?” asked Gabriel, pulling me away from my private thoughts and back to the present drive.

  “You just did,” I pointed out.

  He frowned at my petulance.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Were you—” He paused to look at me, his expression pensive. “Were you in love with Dominic?”

  The question caught me off guard. Not because of its delivery or implications, but because I wasn’t even sure what the word meant outside of the familial sphere. I skimmed Gabriel’s composed face as I repeated the question to myself:

  Did I love Dominic?

  “No,” I shook my head. “I didn’t know him enough to love him.” It turned out I didn’t know him at all.

  “But you cared for him?”

  “I thought I did,” I said, feeling embarrassed by the admission. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “No.” He answered without looking away from the road. “You had no way of knowing.”

  The kinder, more forgiving side of myself wanted to believe that, though the other side couldn’t help but feel emotionally bruised by it, like I should have known better.