Inception (The Marked Book 1)

by Bianca Scardoni

  “You’re a real jerk, you know that?” I yelled, glaring at him as I tried to catch my breath from the mad dash.

  He raised his brows at me. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything?”

  His demeanor instantly changed as the chain mail body armor shifted into place. He turned back to his inventory.

  I moved closer to him, forcing him to look at me—to face me. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

  He tossed the clipboard onto the shelf and took a step back. “What do you want me to say, Jemma?”

  There was something distracting about the way he said my name. It sounded really nice coming from his lips. Kind of soft.

  I squared my shoulders, refusing to let it sidetrack me. “You can start by telling me why you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie to you.” His voice was deeper now, more purposeful.

  “Like hell you didn’t. You knew and you never said a word to me. What do you call that?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Did you know about Dominic, too?”

  He lowered his head, his jaw muscles tightening. It was a clear yes—a pitiful one at that.

  “And you didn’t think to warn me?” I yelled, thrusting my open palms hard into his chest, though he barely moved an inch.

  “What was I supposed to say?” he challenged. “‘Hey, Jemma, I’m not sure if anyone mentioned it to you yet, but vampires are real and the only reason you’re alive is to kill them. And by the way, your boyfriend’s one too’,” he said mockingly before turning serious again. “It wasn’t my place, and besides, you would have never believed me.”

  “Yes, I would have.”

  “No,” he insisted. “You wouldn’t have.”

  “You don’t know that! You don’t know anything,” I snapped, turning for the door.

  “Really?” He snagged my elbow and pulled me back. “Because I have this vague recollection of trying to talk to you about it that night,” he said accusingly, his blue eyes glaring down at me. “Remember that? You refused to talk to me about it. What did you want me to do, hold you down and force you?”

  I shook my arm loose though I didn’t walk away this time.

  I remembered the night of the attack vividly, and how unwilling I was to talk to him about what had happened. It was no secret that I’d grown incredibly good at pushing away the things I didn’t want to face—things I wasn’t ready to face—and as a result, I wound up ignorant to everything around me.

  I had no one to blame for that but myself. But I was done living in the dark.

  “Why won’t you Pledge?” My voice was small, pleading.

  He shook his head, his jaw clamped down hard to mark his resolve.

  “They won’t give me a Handler until you do.”

  “That’s not my problem,” he said icily.

  I winced at his disregard and twisted for the door, afraid of what I might say or do next if I didn’t walk away right that second.

  I heard him cuss under his breath as he reached out and caught my arm again. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “So you’ll Pledge?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Well, then you can go to hell.” I pulled my arm free and made a push for the door, refusing to look back even after he called out my name. The way I saw it, I was pretty much doomed—a dead girl walking. And Trace just loaded the gun.

  I spent most of the day locked in a battle of patience with the clock, counting down the minutes until I could be free of this place—of Trace, and the constant reminder of a situation that appeared to be getting bleaker by the day. I felt hopeless, and restless, and angry that the seconds refused to tick by faster, like this day had been one big conspiracy, intended to drag out my misery to unfathomable proportions.

  “Well? Let’s hear it,” said Zane when I sat down on one of the stools in front of his bar.

  “Hear what?” I barely lifted my eyes.

  “Whatever it is that has you in this funk.”

  “It’s not a funk. And I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, picking apart a paper napkin.

  “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m a bartender. This is pretty much what I do.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that,” he smiled, wiping down the counter in front of me. After a few wipes, he leaned in closer and whispered, “Who’s the T-D-H at nine o’clock?”

  My face contorted. “Huh?”

  “Tall, dark and handsome—just walked in. He’s staring right at you,” he said, covertly ticking his head offside.

  I peered over my shoulder to the door and saw Gabriel standing there by the threshold, not quite willing to come in all the way. He nodded to me, which I could only assume was his way of summoning me over.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said and slipped off the stool.

  “Famous last words.”

  I had no idea what Gabriel was doing here, but from the look on his face, I could tell it wasn’t a casual call. Unfortunately, something inside of me was also speaking and it was telling me I didn’t want to know, that I should turn around right now and put as much distance between the two of us as humanly possible. I guess old habits really do die hard.

  “Can I talk you outside for a minute?” he asked, holding the door open for me.

  I nodded wearily and stepped outside, inhaling sharply as the crisp night air collided with my exposed skin.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Dominic was here tonight,” he said matter-of-factly as he ushered me away from the front entrance.

  I jerked at the mention of his name.

  “He’s gone,” he assured. “Though not without difficulty.” He looked down at something in his hand and then raised it up to me. A single, long-stem black rose stared back at me dauntingly.

  “What the heck is that?”

  “Compliments of Dominic,” he said tartly. “He was pretty intent on giving it to you himself, though I insisted he not.” He chucked the rose sideways, and not a moment too soon.

  “I didn’t know you were...” I trailed off, realizing Gabriel had been here this whole time, keeping watch. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, glancing over at the door and then back at me, his expression troubled. “He intends to talk to you and he’ll try it again the first chance he gets.”

  I felt my heart rate accelerate; an automatic response to the thought of having to see Dominic again. “Talk to me about what?” I asked shakily. He had his fun—the game was over. What more could he possibly have left to say?

  “I don’t know, he didn’t say.”

  I felt sick. I wasn’t ready to see Dominic. It was too much, too soon. I was starting to shiver now, though I told myself it was from the cold air, and not from the fear.

  “I think you should reconsider going to the Council,” he said as he shrugged off his leather jacket and then wrapped it around my shoulders. “It may be the only way to protect yourself. You don’t know the real Dominic—what he’s capable of—especially when it comes to something he wants,” he added, tucking his hands into his dark jeans.

  He was only wearing a fitted, dark green T-shirt now, though he was clearly unaffected by the cold.

  “And what is it that he wants exactly?” I asked, pushing my arms through the sleeves. It smelled of leather and mint.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  I swallowed hard. “But you think it involves me?”

  He nodded, regretful.

  The sudden rush of emotions caused me to stammer back, dizzy from the realization that this thing with Dominic wasn’t over yet, that I wasn’t free of him, or safe from him. I leaned back against the building and tried to steady my breathing.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, taking a cautious step towards me. His concern felt genuine, like my safety and well-being mattered to him, which was strange because he didn’t even know me u
p until yesterday.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  He gestured to my neck. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

  I nodded that he could and then tried not to flinch when his cool fingers brushed my hair back to inspect the wound. “It’s almost healed,” I told him absentmindedly, looking up at the pitch sky, the stars, the moon—anything but his face.

  “Yes, it looks much better,” he agreed and took a step back, satisfied with his inspection. “There’s a number of different enzymes in our bite, one of which has a fairly powerful healing agent,” he explained, burying his hands again. “The mark should be gone by morning.”

  “Great,” I mumbled. “It’ll be good and fresh for Dominic when he comes back for seconds.”

  “You know what he is now. You don’t have to let him near you again,” he said, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light. “You can stop him from getting close enough.”

  “And how do you suggest I do that?”

  “You’re not as helpless as you think you are.”

  “You’re right. I did take all those years of badminton in gym class. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  He wasn’t amused. “I mean, you’re stronger than you think you are. Your power is inside of you, you simply haven’t tapped into it yet, but with a little training—”

  “Training,” I huffed bitterly. “That doesn’t seem to be an option for me right now. I don’t have a Keeper, which means no Handler is willing to take me on, which means I can’t start training. So tell me again how I’m not helpless?”

  “I’m sure the Council will find an alternate to stand-in and teach you some of the basics, at least until they can find a permanent solution. It isn’t ideal, but it’s not hopeless.”

  “Then why haven’t they done it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not privy to all the details—”

  “What about you?” I blurted out. “Weren’t you a Handler before? Why can’t you train me?”

  “I don’t think that’s a very good—”

  “Why not?” I interjected before he could finish turning me down. “You’re a Revenant, and you’re Dominic’s brother. Who better to teach me than you?”

  “I’m sure you’d be better suited with someone else.”

  “Please, Gabriel. I don’t have anyone else,” I pleaded, realizing I wasn’t above resorting to tears.

  His face softened, acquiescence looming on the edges. “I’m only going to be in town for a couple of weeks, at the most. I don’t see what good it would do.”

  “A couple of weeks training is better than no weeks training, isn’t it? Come on, Gabriel, you could help me if you wanted to. I know you can.”

  He ran his hand over the length of his face. “I suppose I could train with you while I’m in town, or at least until they find something permanent,” he said and then held up his hand when I began to squeal. “Providing the Council approves it.”

  The way he said it led me to believe the chances of that happening weren’t exactly in my favor.

  “They’ll approve it,” I said boldly. “They have to.” Because I wasn’t going to give them a choice.

  This was happening one way or another. Gabriel was my best chance at learning the skills I needed to keep myself alive. My only chance, really. It was him or nothing. If the Council couldn’t see it my way, I would just have to find a way to make this happen without them.

  19. TRAINING DAY

  The rain battered the windshield as my uncle and I pulled up to Temple on the east side of town. The limestone structure was ornamented with rows of dimly lit windows, strange alabaster carvings, and a gated walkway that drew from the edge of the sidewalk all the way up to the bronze door.

  “I don’t understand why Gabriel and I can’t just train at the house,” I said defiantly as I looked through the blurring glass at the menacing building outside my window.

  “Because that isn’t the way we do things.”

  “What difference does it make to them if I—”

  “Don’t push your luck, Jemma.” My uncle interjected before I could finish my argument. “It’s a wonder the Council even approved this with the amount of opposition they had.”

  “Opposition?” I flinched back, surprised.

  “Surely you can appreciate how unconventional this is.” He looked at me expectantly. “The Order is built on tradition. Rites and Customs that have been adhered to for centuries, to advance us in our mission, and to protect us—our identities, our safety, our lineage. Anything that threatens to disrupt that security is naturally not going to be well-received.”

  “But this isn’t even about that. This is about me.” More to the point, this was about me staying alive, I thought, bitingly.

  “Yes, it is about you. But it’s also about Peter Macarthur. And Trace Macarthur,” he said purposefully. “It’s about order. There are other factors in this equation whether you are prepared to recognize them or not. I suggest you not tempt the fates any more than you already have.”

  I turned back to the building acridly, realizing where the core opposition had come from: from Trace’s father, my boss. I wondered how close he had come to stopping this from happening. To stopping me from getting the training I desperately needed.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what other unknown factors might be out there, and just how many of those unknowns might wind up getting directly in my way again.

  The lobby was quaint, circular in form, with glossy marble floors and cream colored walls. There was an empty reception desk at the front and a waiting area with red chairs and a glass coffee table at the center. Something about the room looked staged, as though it were all playing host to a sorted illusion.

  The fortified doors on either side of the reception desk were unmarked, locked, and appeared to be leading to opposite sides of the building. I followed my uncle to the left door nearest the reception desk and watched as he swiped a plastic card through the security reader.

  The light flashed green and the door unlocked, allowing us to pile into a small holding area where we waited in front of another armored door while the one behind us closed.

  One could easily become incredibly claustrophobic in such a tight space, I thought, wiping my palms against my jeans. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

  Ignoring me, my uncle pushed his thumb into what looked like a fingerprint identification machine, and then stood back as a woman’s mechanical voice sounded over the speakers.

  “Welcome, Karl Blackburn. Please enter your personal identification pass code.”

  He fingered six numbers into the keypad, and then waited for the light to flash green before turning the knob, giving us access into the cavernous building known as Temple.

  “What was all that about?” I asked as we walked through the atrium. Guarding sphinxes and stone columns lined both side.

  “Precautions,” he said simply. “This particular sector of the Order isn’t open to the public, for obvious reasons. What goes on between these walls is one thing, the invaluable artifacts we safeguard here is another. We cannot allow just anyone to walk in.”

  “What sort of artifacts?” I asked as I blindly followed him through the large, double doors at the end the atrium.

  My head was still turned to him when he ticked his square chin forward, directing my attention into the room.

  Two men stood together at the center of what looked like a large, empty assembly hall. The rectangular room had high ceilings, black and white tessellated flooring, and was flanked with theater-style seats on either side of the room. At the crown, a platform with seven leather chairs positioned at different intervals was regally presiding over the space.

  I immediately recognized the man on the right as Gabriel. The other one was older, possibly in his late fifties, with hoary hair tapered around a smooth face, and he was wearing an all-black ankle length robe fashioned with silver buttons all the way down the front flap. It had the distinct look of a cassock thou
gh the wedding band on his finger made it apparent that he wasn’t a member of the clergy.

  “This is she?” asked the man as we approached them. He already had his hand extended to me when he asked the question.

  “Yes, my youngest niece, Jemma.”

  I shook his hand and glanced over at Gabriel. He was standing quietly with his hands crossed in front of him and his head slightly lowered. He reminded me of a well-trained lackey.

  “This is William Thompson,” said my uncle, steering my attention back to the man. “He’s our Council’s Senior Magister.”

  That tidbit told me nothing.

  “I’m quite pleased to finally meet you, Jemma,” said William. “We’re all incredibly fond of your sister and the work she’s done. She’s one of our brightest pupils.”

  My sister? I thought dimly.

  Of course he knew Tessa. What was I thinking? She probably stood in this very spot, walked these very halls, trained in this very building. Strangely enough, the thought hadn’t occurred to me until just then.

  “Indeed, she is,” agreed my uncle, the pride evident in his eyes whenever he spoke of Tessa. “Jemma has much to live up to, but let’s not forget that she too is a Blackburn. I imagine she’ll be a natural, just like her sister.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” agreed William, his smile reaching all the way up to his benevolent brown eyes.

  Um, I do. I couldn’t help but think of my past run-ins with vampires, particularly the last one with Dominic and how I’d only narrowly escaped with my life, thanks solely to Gabriel’s aid. Nothing about that felt natural to me, certainly not the part where I almost got myself killed.

  My eyes bounced to Gabriel who smiled back faintly—probably out of pity, because he knew the truth.

  “You’ll be in good hands with Gabriel,” assured William, catching our exchange. “He’s one of our finest Warriors, and truly an invaluable member of this Order.”

  “Thank you, Magister.” Gabriel dipped his head in gratitude.

  It was nice to know that not all Council members were against our pairing.