My Heart be Damned

by Gray, Chanelle

  “Don’t be surprised if you see me hanging around where you are,” Marshall suddenly said.

  “Huh?”

  “Until we find the answer to this ritual thing, I still need to keep an eye on you. Which means me, being wherever you are.”

  “That sounds creepy.”

  “Most girls would be grateful to have a sexy guy like me following them around, but you complain. Twisted.”

  “You’re twisted,” I said childishly.

  He ignored me. “Anyway, I’ll try and stick to the shadows as much as I can so you can still do whatever it is you do when I’m not around. When your stomach is better, we’ll get right back to training.”

  I mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Glad you’re taking this seriously.”

  I couldn’t tell if he said it sarcastically or not, so I left it. Less than five minutes later, we pulled up outside of my house. My dad was going to have a lot of questions when I walked in wearing men’s tee shirt and shorts and only a pair of socks on my feet. If the fates cared for me at all, they wouldn’t be home. I looked to the drive, holding my breath. Dad’s beat up car was there, but Cindy’s was gone. With any hope, that meant they were both out of the house.

  “I’ll be around,” Marshall said, nodding once at me.

  “Okay. See you then.”

  “Need any help?”

  “I got it.” Without bending, I grabbed the plastic bag with one hand and pushed open the door with the other. I knew he was watching me, probably immensely entertained at my slow pace, but I didn’t turn around once. When I reached the front door, I rifled around in my clutch bag for my keys and slid inside. I didn’t stop moving until I’d finally climbed the two flights of stairs to my bedroom. By the time I dragged myself in front of a mirror, my stomach was throbbing painfully.

  The pain became a distant memory the moment I saw what had become of my hair. My whole face twisted into devastation. That wasn’t hair on my head. It was like something a cat threw up. A very sick, old cat. Tentatively, I reached up and patted my head. I hadn’t brushed my hair in almost 2 days, and parts were curled, and others straight making it seem as though I had an uneven haircut. The only saving grace was that my makeup hadn’t run, and I hadn’t bruised on my face either.

  With a sigh, I limped into the bathroom next door. I shut the door bent over the bath, and turned on the taps, wincing when I jolted my wound. Then I stripped off Marshall’s clothes, vowing to keep them for as long as he didn’t ask for them back. The bandage came off next, and I stared down at the scar, wondering how Marshall had stitched me up so professionally. I was supposed to have been trained to fix wounds, but I’d never gotten that far. First aid, sure. If someone choked on a carrot, but stitching up a wound? I couldn’t even stitch holes in my clothes.

  Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the bathroom door, and I jumped, swearing under my breath. Fresh pain burst through my stomach again. I grabbed whoever’s gown hung on the hook on the wall and wrapped it around me before yanking open the door. It was Dad.

  “When did you get back?” he asked. Even though we hadn’t been living here long, Dad looked totally different. He looked healthier, happier, like the man that I remembered growing up.

  “Just now,” I answered, tightening the gown around me. “Just gonna have a bath and probably watch some TV in my room.”

  “You enjoy your birthday?”

  “Yeah, I did. Thanks again for the presents.”

  He smiled, and we stood in an awkward silence, neither of us wanting to be the first one to turn away from the other. It had been like this for the past year. We didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore, so we didn’t even try.

  “Cindy and I have tickets for a show, tonight. We’ll leave money for a pizza for you and Daniel, but he says he has a date. Just in case, it’s enough for both of you.” His eyes drifted past me and to Marshall’s folded clothes on the floor.

  Before he could work out that they were men’s clothes, I quickly answered him. “Okay. That’s cool. What show?”

  “Erm...” His eyes rolled up to the ceiling as they often did when he didn’t know something and was pretending as if he’d just forgotten. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

  “No worries. I only wondered.” I paused. “Well, have a good night.”

  As I went to close the door, he gently held it open. “Wait, Amerie, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I pulled the door back and rested my weight on the edge of it. “Yeah?”

  “Cindy feels like you two need to bond. She wants to be a part of your life, and she feels you won’t take her seriously until you trust her, and in order for you to trust her, you need to spend some time together.”

  I groaned. “You sound like you’ve memorized what she’s asked you to tell me.”

  “What? No! Look, Amerie, this is important. Stop trying to distract me. She wants you to go grocery shopping with her tomorrow after school. She’ll be waiting for you and you will be going with her. If you have work, she can drop you after. Okay?”

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “You do. If you make the right one.”

  I sighed, trying terribly hard not to explode. I had no interest in getting to know his girlfriend. I didn’t expect we’d be sticking around in her house for very long, not unless she was the most patient woman alive, with my dad – with all of us. But there was a look in his eyes, which showed how serious he was being. If I kicked up a fuss, he’d lash out at me, and I’d lash back. I didn’t have the energy to argue right now.

  “Okay, whatever.”

  He grinned. “Good. Great. I’ll let her know. Thanks, Amerie.” Then he was gone, finally allowing me to crawl into my bath and wonder what on earth I’d just gotten myself into.

  With the heat of the bath, and my lack of sleep the night before, as soon as I rough dried my hair and changed into a tracksuit, I fell fast asleep. The beginning credits of my chosen film hadn’t even begun. By the time that my eyes had flickered open again, it was pitch black outside, and the whole house was silent. Dad and Cindy must have headed out already.

  I relished the quiet. No Cindy, whose presence drove me up to my bedroom with the door locked. No Dad, chasing me around with puppy eyes, making me feel guilty that I wasn’t playing fake happy family with him. No Daniel, skulking around and bringing me down with his negative attitude. The house was free for the taking, and I was definitely going to take full advantage of it.

  I blasted the music on my stereo as loud as it would go. I didn’t even care that it sounded distorted. Then I wasted half an hour straightening my hair at my dressing table. Once done, I was bored. I walked across the room, pausing at the window and staring out onto the street. Even with my enhanced vision, I could barely see anything out there. All I really wanted was to see that Marshall was keeping an eye on me. I wanted to invite him in, maybe watch a film, have some popcorn, do things you did on a date without actually calling it a date.

  But I couldn’t see anything all, and I wasn’t going to make myself sound desperate by calling out for him. My room, I noticed, smelled of burned hair, so I flung open the window to let some air in and hoped that maybe Marshall might see it as an invitation to come in. Then I turned around, shut off the music, and headed downstairs.

  True to Dad’s word, there was some cash left for me on the kitchen counter. I counted it out, grinning at Cindy’s generosity, and then called Pizza Hut. I knew my order by heart, and I recited it to a bored sounding woman who told me that I had to wait forty minutes. What did I do for forty minutes? Phone Mercy, of course. I flopped down on the sofa, noticing how much better my wound was since last night, and dialed in her number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I know you warned me that stuff might go down, but still, I worried, you know.”

  “Sorry about that. I kinda got...inju
red. But Marshall looked after me, and I’m much better now.”

  “Elaborate...”

  I launched into a play-by-play retelling of the fight last night and then gave her a verbatim script of my conversation with Marshall, and then recounted my realization that I had feelings for him. We spent a solid twenty minutes trying to read into everything that he’d said and a further five minutes talking about his taste in furniture. By the time the pizza arrived, we were still on the phone.

  “He likes you,” Mercy determined.

  I groaned, mouth full of pizza. “Then why not admit it?”

  “Because you’re different. You’re all super powered or whatever.”

  “Mercy you’re so...” I paused. It sounded as if there were footsteps coming from upstairs. My heart sped up, and my hands began to sweat. Who the hell was in my house?

  “So what?” Mercy asked.

  “I’ll call you back,” I whispered, and hung up the phone. I stood up, my whole body tense. My ears strained for any little noise, and though the footsteps had stopped, I was certain someone was upstairs.

  I crept into the kitchen and slid a knife out of the knife-block. I knew I couldn’t use it, not in any case. If it happened to be a regular burglar, I didn’t want to hurt them, and if it they were a Damned, then I’d only be hurting the human host, but not the soul. Still, it made me feel better just holding it.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I headed for the kitchen door when a pair of hands clasped around my neck and tightened, pulling me into the air so that my toes no longer touched the floor. I gagged and dropped the knife, desperately clawing at the hands as I choked for air. Swinging my elbow up, I managed to connect with my assailant’s face, and it grunted a particularly manly grunt. He didn’t drop me, though, and I seemed to have angered him more. Hands still clasped around my neck, he twisted me roughly so that my legs flailed and knocked off everything on the breakfast bar. I elbowed him again, and this time he staggered back. Grip loosened, I prized his fingers off and dropped to the ground in a crouch.

  The Damned came at me with the knife I’d dropped, and I rolled out of the way, throwing my arms up to block his next attack. I jumped to my feet, falling back as I tried to avoid his fist, swiping at my face. He caught my arm instead, barely grazing my skin. Then he spun and kicked me straight in my stab wound.

  I flew through the kitchen door and landed in a painful heap on the landing. He charged at me; his brown hair wild, and his mouth, practically dripping saliva. There were three stars tattooed, on his forehead. Before I could register why he had stars on his head, he’d dragged me up with one hand, and then thrown a punch at my face with the other. I blocked him, shoved him towards the wall, and punched him before darting in the living room.

  My stomach throbbed, and I could barely stand. I crouched behind the sofa, hoping it would keep him away from me, and then totally panicked. How could I fight this brute when I could barely keep myself from falling? I grabbed at my stomach, pretty sure that my stitches had torn.

  He walked towards me, cockily, knowing he had the upper hand. Just before he reached me, I did the only thing I could think to do. I screamed out Marshall’s name.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Damned to be Damned

  Arms sprang forward, reaching for my throat, and I yelled out again, diving to the side and landing on my stomach with a painful grunt. He leapt over the sofa, landing over me and his hands found my neck again, squeezing hard.

  Downstairs, the door burst open.

  The pressure lifted from me, and I quickly scuttled into the corner of the room, clutching at my neck and gasping for breath. I couldn’t focus on the fight in front of me. Marshall was there. He was there! But, I couldn’t see him. My vision was blurry and the room began closing in on me. Air. I needed air.

  Ignoring the painful ache in my stomach, I stumbled to my feet and fled from the room, taking the stairs two at a time. I burst out into the rain, water beating down against my face. I didn’t stop running until I’d reached the end of my street, and then I collapsed back against someone’s front-garden wall, hyperventilating.

  I’d been attacked in my own home – well Cindy’s home. The thought swirled in my mind, circling like water refusing to go down a plughole. I shook my head and bent over to try to catch my breath. Tears mingled with rain.

  A hand softly landed on my shoulder; I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. I said nothing, one hand clutched at my stomach, the other rubbing my tender throat.

  “Stupid question, but are you okay?”

  I shook my head. “He came into my home, Marshall. My home!” My voice was raspy, raw.

  “I know.” He sighed loudly.

  “Who was that? Inside?”

  “One of Seal’s assassins. He personally handpicks the most lethal, vicious Damned and enlists them into his army. They do his bidding. For some reason, they’re scared of him. The star tattoos are a sure sign. Albert’s house guest was one too.”

  I sucked in another gulp of air and slowly stood upright, turning to face Marshall. “An assassin. He sent an assassin after me.”

  “He’s gone now, Amerie. I moved the body down the street so when he wakes up he won’t be there. You won’t need to worry again.” He moved to take my hand, but I snatched it out of his grip. “Amerie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time, and I’m sorry you had to...”

  “I can’t do this anymore, Marshall,” I muttered. “I was right to quit. What kind of life is this? What if they come and hurt my dad or my brother? Coming into my house and attacking me was the last straw. No. No, I quit.”

  I turned to march past him. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back so that his mouth was right by my ear.

  “You tell me what quitting will solve,” he hissed. “You quit, and they still come after you. It’s not about you, actively hunting or not. It’s about your blood. You can’t change that. The best thing you can do is be ready and make sure we end this ritual, once and for all.”

  He was right, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to curl into a ball in my bed and never surface again. I wasn’t going to admit it to him, but I was afraid. Afraid of being attacked again. Afraid of being bested and afraid of being the reason the world ended.

  I gulped down my hysteria and nodded slowly.

  “We’ll kick up our training sessions,” Marshall added, his tone much gentler. “You’ve got it in you to be fearless, Amerie. We just gotta find it again.”

  “Okay,” I whispered numbly. “Look, I just want to go inside and go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

  “You want me to walk you? Do one more sweep of your house until your dad gets home?”

  I didn’t answer, hoping he would take that as a ‘yes’ instead of me outright asking him to. I was supposed to hunt these things. Not run away and hide from them. I started walking and let out a deep breath when he followed behind.

  The living room had pretty much survived the battle. One of the plants had been knocked over, the soil spread across the floor, but no furniture was broken. Nothing I couldn’t fix. The kitchen, however, had seen better days. All the food that Cindy had marinating on the sides was on the floor instead. Plates were smashed, and pots were scattered everywhere.

  While Marshall checked the house, I started cleaning up. When I walked upstairs, Marshall was waiting for me in my bedroom. He faced my desk, staring at a picture of me with my mum as a child. There was softness to his face that confused me. Was he sad for me? For her? For himself and his own sick mother?

  “You left the window open,” he said, pointing to the window I’d opened earlier. “Which was how he got in. Left wet footprints across your floor.”

  “Oh.” I sat on the edge of my bed.

  “You should really be more careful. It’s like you want someone to get in. I know you were hoping it’d be me, but, unfortunately, there are other nutters out there who aren’t nearly as charming.”

  I forced a smile at his atte
mpt in lightening the mood. “It smelled of burnt hair,” I answered. I wasn’t about to tell him that he was right. “And in my defense, I did not know Seal was sending assassins after me.”

  He walked over, and for a moment, I thought he was going to sit down, but he half turned towards the door, giving me one last, long look. “See you at your shift tomorrow. We’ll train after.”

  “But I’m injured,” I said, suddenly remembering my stomach. “Oh, erm, before you go, can you take a look at my wound? I think I tore something...”

  He nodded once, dropped the coat he’d been holding in his hand and bent down in front of me, his eyes searching mine as if seeking permission. I leaned back, lifting up my shirt. His fingers were gentle and soft as they ran over my skin, sending shivers and tingles through my body. I sucked in a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, trying extremely hard to keep focused.

  “Everything’s fine,” he suddenly said, startling me.

  “Oh. You sure?”

  “Positive. By tomorrow, you’ll be perfectly healed. I’m pretty impressed.” He stood, collecting his coat on the way. “So you have no excuse not to train.”

  “How about the good old fashioned ‘I’m bored’ excuse? I think we’re in a rut. We never do new things anymore. Same old training sessions,” I said, smiling at him.

  He laughed. “A rut? I would never allow us to get stuck in a rut. Tell you what. You win our first fight tomorrow in training, and I’ll take you out wherever you like. You name the time, place, and the activity. I’ll be there, money in hand, car at the ready.”

  “What if I said the Caribbean?”

  “I’d better get saving, then.”

  I rolled my eyes playfully. “Okay. You have yourself a deal.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to the door and hesitated. “Oh, and, by the way, Amerie, I loved your outfit yesterday. Very nice.”

  I was so glad that he'd turned his back because I blushed fiercely. I listened to his footsteps, making sure he actually left, and then ran downstairs to double-lock the front door.