THE MARK Read online

  Chris opened her eyes and blinked. She was back in bed in the inn’s dark room. Megland was turned on her side facing her, her morning breath blowing right in Chris’s face. Chris rolled onto her back and tried to remember what she’d been dreaming about but it was already gone. Images from that night, the carnival, the wormdings, the blood, Micah’s face lit by firelight, all flashed through her mind. She shook them off and tried again to recall her dream. She didn’t know why her heart was beating so fast or why she felt such a sense of urgency. Her stomach was in knots so she knew something was very wrong. Something about that feeling told her that they needed to get moving.

  The sun had yet to break through the alleyways and into town. It was still the dull gray of pre-dawn, and the faint light washed over her companions’ sleeping faces, giving them the ashen look of the dead. Chris sneaked out of bed and dressed in silence.

  The streets were empty save the occasional shop owner unlocking his store and a few street sweepers who were having a hard time of it. The clouds above the village were dark and pregnant, their puffy black bellies facing downward. Wind kept blowing debris along the damp cobblestone, and the sweepers could do nothing more than try in vain to corral it. Evidence of the carnival: a single swan feather, red-tipped with blood, lifted into the air, swirled along the streets, and drifted as if taking survey of its domain.

  Chris looked around. The further south they had traveled the more dread weighed on her. It was as if she could physically feel the distance between her and Leroy closing. There was nothing following her, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being chased. She started walking faster and faster and by the time she reached the weapons shop she was gasping.

  “Are you alright, miss?” The lanky boy behind the counter’s dark eyes were wide, not in the “are you okay” way but the “did she just kill her husband and I’m next” kind of way.

  Chris brushed her hair out of her face, straightened her dress and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He gave her a nervous smile.

  “I was looking for a knife, actually,” she said.

  The smile vanished.

  “Uh,” he hesitated, “what kind?” His voice cracked on the last word.

  She felt bad for him then reminded herself that he had probably been out celebrating with the rest of the town the night before. “I’ll just look and see if there’s anything I like.”

  He nodded, obviously relieved, but she noticed how he kept a wary eye on her as she moved through the small shop.

  Chris moved through the packed space, careful not to let her dress snag on any of the swords or shields that jutted out from where they hung along the walls or were propped up in barrels. It was very different from the military supply stores back home and she wondered why they had a need for it all. She would have thought the soldiers at Polaris would help with the defense of a town like this, especially one so close. Then she remembered that the town only seemed close, that they had gone through a portal and traversed The Great Gray Wood before arriving there. Who knew how much land lay between Laetus and Polaris. She tried not to think too much about how long the journey to the Swamplands could turn out to be.

  She didn’t see any knives until she was near the back of the store. Nestled along a wall and bracketed by stacks of dented and rusted shields was a glass case. Inside were a bunch of knives, nothing special really, but the dagger on the far left caught her eye. All the other blades were perfectly vertical, tips pointed toward the wall, but the one on the left was tilted in her direction as if it were one of those Uncle Sam posters shouting, “I want you!” It wasn’t readily apparent what made the knife so different. It wasn’t all that impressive: average length, a worn leather wrap around the handle, tiny nick in the blade’s edge. But the longer she stared at it the more she could feel its humming presence.

  “It’s cursed.” An elderly man, white tufts of hair sprouting from a ring above his ears, walked over. The clerk was still up front showing a chainmail clad soldier or knight some bags.

  “What’s cursed?” she asked the old man.

  “That blade you’re looking at.” He shuffled over and settled next to her. He smelled like dust.

  “How do you know which one I’m looking at?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. She guessed that was supposed to be an answer.

  “Okay,” she said, “why is it cursed?”

  “It has been used by one of them,” he said, thumbing the side of his nose. “The Marked.”

  “Oh.”

  He nodded. “It has been said to bring misery to whomever owns it.”

  “It’s possible that those people were already miserable,” she countered. “Maybe they were in trouble and that’s why they needed the knife in the first place.”

  He laughed, a wheezy, dry kind of laugh. “It’s a dagger. And it is cursed. With this,” he pointed at the blade still in its case, “women are visited by demons.”

  “And men?”

  “Their small sacks wither and fall to the ground like leaves in autumn.”

  “You’ve seen this stuff happen? The demons and things falling?”

  “Well,” he said, scratching one of his sideburns, “not myself, but everyone knows about The Marked. They infect everything they touch with their evil magic.”

  “Hm.”

  “Indeed.” He casually traced the edge of a nearby shield with his finger.

  “I wonder why something so dangerous would be in a shop,” she said.

  “Oh, I’ve wanted to be rid of it for years but no one will buy it.”

  She laughed. “Maybe it has something to do with you warning customers about demons and supernatural STDs.”

  He stopped tracing the shield next to him. Confusion swept over his face, and Chris tried not to laugh again. She’d forgotten how good it felt to smile.

  “I warn those interested in the cursed blade to relieve my own conscience. If I tell you of its danger then my mind is clear if you buy it. But I urge you to leave it.”

  Was she really considering buying a supposedly cursed knife? She looked around the small shop. It was absolutely packed with different weapons she could buy and yet every time she looked at the dagger a warmth spread through her chest. It just felt right.

  As she walked out of the store she hoped Megland wouldn’t be too mad that she took her money pouch without asking. She doubted she would be. They all knew that Chris had to buy something with which to fight Leroy. And Chris was still trying to figure out a way around that. Besides, it hadn’t cost much. The shopkeeper, being so glad to finally be rid of it, had charged her a single coin.

  Standing outside of the inn, which was just beginning to fill with the sounds of cooking, she tucked the dagger into her dress’s pocket and tried not to think about having to ever use it.

  * * *

  When Chris got back to her room at the inn her friends were already awake and dressed. Micah and Digs were helping Megland look for her money pouch. Chris handed it back to her, apologizing and explaining what she’d used it for. Megland said nothing but nodded gravely then handed it to Digs.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Keep to the shade. Do you remember where it is?” Megland asked.

  “Yes,” he called back in the same beleaguered tone Chris used with her own mother. Chris kept forgetting about the relationship between those two, that Megland had basically been Digs’ mom since their parents died.

  “Where’s he going?” she asked Megland.

  “He saw a shop selling this new cream that is supposed to protect you from the sun. He says that a couple of his friends have tried it and it seems to work.”

  “What about you?” Chris asked.

  “What about me?” Megland said, making the bed. It was a habit of hers after having worked as a maid for years.

  “How come you can go out during the day and be just fine but he can’t?”

  Megland smoothed out the creases in
the blanket. She seemed to be biding her time. There was a tension in the room that hadn’t been there before. Chris was suddenly worried that she had asked something deeply personal or stumbled onto a race thing specific to Kellet.

  “What did you buy, Chris?” Micah asked. He was obviously trying to diffuse the situation and Chris was grateful. She pulled the dagger out of the folds of her skirt and handed it to him.

  “Be careful,” she said. “The guy who sold it to me said it’s cursed.”

  He’d been turning it in his hands, looking it over, but he quickly handed it back to her hilt first.

  “Why in the world would you buy a cursed knife?” he asked.

  “Dagger,” she corrected him.

  “I don’t care what you call it. If it’s cursed you shouldn’t have gotten it.”

  “It’s not really cursed, Micah,” she said, stashing the dagger away. “The guy was just being a jerk. It’s like the people around here are so afraid of The Marked that they’re scared to even own anything one of them used to have. Which is ironic given that they’re okay with owning their magic after it’s put in a doll. People are stupid.”

  He didn’t disagree.

  They were eating breakfast in the common room when Digs came back and sat at their table. Chris smelled pine. Or spruce. She knew it was some kind of evergreen, at least. It must have been the “miracle cream” that he’d gone out to get. He seemed breathless, excited.

  “Full sun and no burning,” he said. Chris had never seen him so happy. He turned to Megland. “Did you hear that, Meg? The cream works!”

  She smiled back at him, but Chris could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “That’s wonderful, Digs,” she said. “You need to eat. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  He grabbed a few rolls and dumped some eggs from the large bowl on the table onto his plate and immediately shoveled them into his mouth. Meanwhile, Megland sipped from her cup of tea, looking thoughtful. Chris wondered if she should apologize or if bringing it up again would make things worse. It wasn’t the best way to start their trip, and she wished she were better with people, like Micah. He was eating a leg of something, maybe a turkey, taking in the room. It was loud and crowded, unlike how it had been the night before.

  Chris thought about their conversation. Micah had confessed his feelings for her. If she was honest with herself she had always known he liked her. He never dated, never showed any interest in the other girls in their classes. But when they were together it was completely platonic, at least most of the time. Other times, like the day she had spotted The Fly in his beard and he had almost kissed her, they got closer to the truth. They liked each other, and the reasons for them not being together weren’t that clear anymore.

  “So where did you get all that money?” Micah asked Megland. “Did you make all that working at Polaris?”

  “I saved it over the years. I knew Digs and I would eventually need it to go find our mother. But I suppose we’ll be using it all for this instead.” She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness behind her words.

  “Meg,” Digs said with a mouth full of bread.

  “Be quiet and eat,” Megland said, returning to her cup of tea.

  “Look, Meg,” Micah said.

  “Megland,” she said, interrupting him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “We’re so grateful that you’re helping us with all of us. You didn’t have to, and we really appreciate it.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  Micah was thrown off. “Didn’t you what?”

  “Didn’t I have to do this?” she said, setting her cup down. “The oracle said that if we were to retrieve Hannah’s body, which I always said I was against doing, we would each play a part. And that we would each play a part in,” she lowered her voice so no one nearby would hear, “killing Leroy.” She looked around, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “I can’t go looking for my mother in good conscience when you two are in danger, when it’s all but certain that if Digs and I were to let you do this on your own you would be caught. So yes, I have to do this. But if Liza had told me where to find my mother I’m not sure that would be the case.”

  “This is my fault,” Chris said. “I get that this is one hundred percent my fault. If I hadn’t been sucked in by Leroy from the start, if I hadn’t brought him to Earth somehow in the first place, none of this would have happened. And I’m sorry for whatever I said back in the room, if I offended you somehow. But what Micah said is true. We’re so, so grateful that you’re helping us.” She looked over at Micah then, unsure whether to keep going but deciding that it was the right thing to do. “And I’m sure that he’ll agree with me when I say that it wouldn’t be right for us to go home until we help you look for your mom first.”

  Micah put down the turkey leg he was eating and shot her a surprised look. Megland and Digs looked just as shocked.

  “Are you certain?” Megland asked, not daring to believe what Chris had just said. “With Karniv’s men looking for us, with the danger of mercenaries, you’re willing to risk helping us?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Chris said.

  Megland smiled warmly. Chris wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her smile before. It was lovely.

  “I mean, we’re going south anyway,” Chris said, “so why not? We could ask around, see if anybody knows anything—without drawing too much attention to ourselves, of course.”

  “Of course,” Megland said, still smiling as she brought her cup back to her lips. Digs was smiling at Chris as well. But when she looked at Micah, he wasn’t. She hadn’t thought it would go over well with him, especially after their talk last night. He’d wanted to get home, to put this place behind them, but if Megland was risking everything to help them, spending her life savings for a couple of strangers, the least they could do is help her in return. Micah would see it was the right thing to do, eventually. She was sure of it.

  CHAPTER 15

  Digs seemed to be doing alright so far. They’d been walking for hours and his skin had yet to redden. The “miracle cream” seemed to be living up to its name, though the fact that it was a dark, cloudy day probably helped. Regardless, Digs remained unscathed, but the excitement he’d shown at breakfast was replaced with a quiet contemplative mood. The same with Megland. Chris could only imagine what they were feeling right at that moment. Micah, on the other hand… Well, there was no mistaking what he was feeling.

  As soon as they had left the inn he had pulled her aside. “Why did you tell Megland that we’d help find her mom? Don’t we have enough to worry about?”

  “I know you want to get home—”

  He scoffed. “Ya think?”

  “I know you want to get home,” she continued, ignoring his tone, “but they’re giving up everything.” He turned away. “Everything for us. The least we can do is try to help them, too.”

  He faced her. “What about our families? They’ve been through so much, Chris. Why put them through this for one more day than we need to? Why would you be okay with that?”

  “I’m not,” she said, fighting to not yell. “I know they’re worried as hell right now, but I also know that this is the right thing to do. And I want, for once in my life, to do something right.” Micah was about to say something but she interrupted him. “We’re doing this. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be here any longer than we have to be. Their mom is most likely in the south and we’re heading that direction anyway. We’re just asking questions as we go. And we’ll be smart about it.”

  When he didn’t respond she said, “I don’t want to fight the whole way. We need to be on the same side. Please.”

  After a long moment he said, “We are on the same side.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  “I guess we can help them if it’s not too far out of the way.”

  “It seems like the thing to do.”

  “Ugh,” he groaned. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  “Alright,” she said, hoping the fight wa
s really over. She tried breaking the tension, saying, “Let’s do it to it!” and immediately regretting it. But the corner of Micah’s mouth lifted in a half-smile so she counted it as a victory of sorts.

  They walked for hours in the forest outside Laetus until the trees started thinning out then finally disappeared altogether. The hills they walked now were bare. Not a single tree adorned their crests, and Chris wondered why. There were lots of hills around Justice, but unless the land had been cleared for grazing there were plenty of trees, too. She looked where she stepped now and only saw low weeds and the occasional rock with what looked like some kind of bubbly black mold.

  “Digs?” Megland said. She was ahead of the rest of them at the top of a particularly steep hill. Digs climbed it to meet her and took in the view.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  “Where’s ‘here?’” Micah asked.

  Chris reached the top before he did. Ahead of them lay a rolling black sea of hills beneath undulating, dark clouds. “What the what?” she said softly.

  Micah finally caught up with them, took one look, and asked, “Is this liquid or gel… What is this stuff?”

  It looked like the same gunk Chris had seen on the rocks, except that it covered everything.

  “It’s The Barren Stretch,” Megland said as she started her descent down the other side.

  “But what’s the black stuff?” Chris asked, following her, careful not to roll an ankle on a rock.

  “They’re fire legs,” Digs said, telling her and Micah about creatures that sounded a lot like jellyfish on Earth with tentacles that sting. But unlike their jellyfish that live in water, on Kellet they lived in The Barren Stretch, gripping the soil while their underbellies sucked up the nutrients. “Just try not to touch them. They’ll shock you. It’s just for a moment, but it’s not pleasant.”