Seventh Mark (Part 1 +2) (15 page)

“I’ve somehow
blanked out what happened next. For years I’ve tried to recall but
it’s a blur. I remember his movements were fast like ours are now,
but he led the Grollics like he was one of them. I was human, no
match against him. He wrestled the knife away before I could even
use it. He turned and stabbed me.”

Michael
swallowed, loud against the quiet of the room. “It was a fatal
wound to my chest, one blow and I was lying on the floor, bleeding.
I could feel my life fading. I begged him to leave Grace. He
laughed viciously and taunted me – telling me I would get to watch
him rape and kill my sister before I died. Then he grabbed and
flung her to the floor like a rag doll, holding the knife so it
stabbed her in her back as she fell, paralyzed.” Michael sighed, a
long shaky one. “Grace never said a word, or had a single tear in
her eye. She smiled at me before spitting in the man’s face and
closed her eyes. I shut mine as well and gave in as death would be
better than watching her die.”

Tears ran
silently down my face.
What a horrible, horrible memory
.

Michael shifted
slightly. “I don’t know what exactly happened next. All I know is I
heard Sarah’s sweet voice. My first coherent thought: I’m in heaven
and that’s the voice of an angel. That thought quickly changed when
she said the woman out front, my mother, had been attacked by the
Grollics, and killed my father. She grabbed my hand, and promised
to protect us. She’d explain what we could not understand.”

He lay quiet, a
shaky finger trailing down my arm.

I pulled free,
put my arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “What a terrible
story,” I whispered.

“I haven’t
talked about it in forever. It no longer seems real. It…It feels
like someone else’s life now. Thank goodness we had Sarah there to
explain the, you know,
after
.” He shrugged. “It was about
fifteen years later when Caleb found us.”

“Did you ever
find the man who killed…” I couldn’t complete the sentence. “Or the
Grollics who attacked the house?”

“I tried for
years. Grace begged me to let it go and move forward. Eventually I
stopped searching.” He pulled me tight against him and kissed the
top of my head. “I did find out my mother had been raped the day of
her wedding. It didn’t lead me any closer to the beasts or the man.
They had nothing to do with her rape or our birth. I never dug
deeper.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Pardon?”

I could feel
his head lift to try and see my face. “I’m sorry you and Grace had
to suffer before you died.”

“You’re a
silly-soft little girl. Don’t be sorry. It’s in the past and it
brought me to you.” His head dropped back onto the pillow. “It
doesn’t matter anymore.”

I didn’t
believe him. It still did matter and, one day, Michael was going to
hunt down the truth.

In the morning
I woke in the same position I had fallen asleep. Michael lay quiet
beside me, his fingers tracing my shoulder, along my tank top
strap, across my shoulder blade and making a circle somewhere
around my birthmark. I didn’t want to move or open my eyes.
Laying here forever suits me fine.
Maybe I could get another
ten minutes of bliss, if I pretended to sleep. A small sigh escaped
my lips as I snuggled closer to him.

“I’d gladly lie
here with you all day, but Grace won’t get out of my head. She
keeps asking if you’re awake.”

“Hmm,” I
murmured. “If I tap your head, can you tell her I’m snoozing for
twenty minutes?”

Michael stayed
quiet a moment, obviously talking to Grace.

“It’s
fascinating you can talk to her in your head.” I stretched my legs,
but not wanting to leave the warmness his body offered.

“You kill me.”
He laughed. “We’re reincarnate some kind of angel offspring fighter
beasts referred to as Grollics, and you think it’s cool I can
communicate with my twin? You continue to amaze me.” He lifted me
up on top of him so my head was inches from his. “Most twins have
their own language or way of communicating with each other. It’s
not so unusual. I would thi—”

I kissed him on
the lips. I didn’t know why I had no problem with the fighting
Grollic thing, my gut feeling wanted them dead as well. Trying to
remember whatever else Michael had just said seemed beyond my scope
at the moment. Waking up beside him was far more interesting.

Minutes later,
Michael held me slightly away from him and groaned. “Grace is
bugging me again. She can hear we’re awake and warned she’s barging
in the room in two minutes. Either we need to get up or,” he said,
grabbing my elbow, “we can give her something to—”

I pulled back
and jumped off the bed. “I’m up! I’m going to the bathroom. You do
what you want!”

As I closed the
door, a soft thump hit the back side of it.
A pillow.
I
smiled in the mirror and gave myself two thumbs-up.

Twenty minutes
later I emerged from Grace’s bedroom showered and dressed in my
favorite red sweater and jeans. Down in the kitchen Michael, Grace,
and Sarah sat talking quietly.

Michael went to
the counter and offered me a croissant. “I made you coffee.” He
poured me a cup. “Milk and sugar’s on the island by Grace.”

I settled down
and dropped in three heaping teaspoons of sugar and lots of
milk.

“Wow, you like
a lot of sweetness,” Grace said, watching me.

“Just tastes
better.” I took a sip, trying not to shudder. Michael still made
lousy coffee, no wonder I was the only one drinking it.

Michael sat
beside me. “Sarah and Grace organized the pool house for you. It’s
officially your place, but as long as Damon or any other Grollic is
around, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Sarah opened
her mouth, but Michael held a hand up. “For the sake of argument,
she turns eighteen in six days.” He smiled and bit into his
croissant.

“If it’s okay
with Rouge,” Sarah replied smugly. “She might want space. And you
do exactly as she says.”

They all looked
at me.

They wanted me
to tell them how I felt about Michael in a room with no adult
supervision?
Not going to happen.
“I’m just incredibly
thankful you guys are letting me stay. You’re the ones with
Grollics chasing you. Whatever it takes to keep you all safe, I’m
cool with.”

Grace laughed.
“You’re worried about us? So cute.”

Michael
harrumphed. “Want to see the pool house?”

“Sure.” I
pushed the three-quarter full mug away.

We headed out
the sliding doors in the kitchen into the cool morning air. Without
a coat, I had no problem snuggling into Michael’s warm,
outstretched arm. Walking around the Olympic size pool, I stumbled
as I stared at my temporary home.

Simple stucco
walls with large windows and a heavy slate roof. The place had to
be eight hundred square feet, and Grace said it was small. The
windows reflected the closed pool. They were obviously the
one-sided kind -- you could see out from the inside.

Michael handed
me a key from his pocket. “Voila. Your castle.”

Too shocked to
reply, I unlocked and stepped through the door. The open beige and
brown painted room had wood flooring, a king size futon set in
front of a humongous TV. Behind the couch, a pair of bar stools sat
neatly tucked under a marble counter. Standing on my toes, I could
see a small chrome mini fridge and dishwasher. I sniffed, the place
smelled like lemons and cleaning detergents.

“Grace brought
your stuff.” Michael pointed to a dresser neatly set against the
wall. “The bathroom has a large closet where your hang up clothes
are. There’s also a washer and dryer in there too.” He grabbed his
cell phone out of his back pocket and checked the screen. “Do you
think you’ll be alright for a bit? Caleb needs me. I can send Grace
over if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind
hanging out here on my own for a bit. Unless you think Grace might
be offended.”

Michael
laughed. “She’s a big girl. She can watch from the window.” He
pushed me gently toward the futon. “Go. Relax. I’ll be back as soon
as I’m done.” He quietly closed the door behind him.

Alone, I sat
down and put my feet on top of the coffee table. My right ankle
slipped against a magazine. Leaning forward, I caught it just
before it hit the floor.

The Grollic
journal
.

Grace must’ve
put it and my laptop on the coffee table thinking I’d want to do
some work.

Maybe on my
own, in the quiet of the room, I could figure something else out
from the book. Getting up I went and checked the fridge and grabbed
a bottle of water, then settled back down.

I flipped open
to the front page.
Might as well start at the beginning
. I
didn’t understand any of the writing, but maybe using the Internet
I might find a word or two which might explain something—anything.
I flipped the laptop open and as I waited for the computer to load,
I turned to look at the first few pages and diagrams of the
journal. It all looked foreign to me.

I came to the
drawing of the Grollic and man. A caption underneath read:
Vargulf Bentos
Monstrum.
“Whatever that
means,” I mumbled to myself. So I did what any normal human being
would do. I googled the words.

The last word brought me to links on monsters but
none of it made sense. All I could find on Bentos was some relation
to a Portuguese name. “
These
words have no connection to the drawings,” I mumbled.

The following page
continued in the strange language. One underlined phrase made
me curious.
Vilkacis
diakonos
. I typed it into the Internet. The phrase “Wolf
eyes” seemed the going theme for Vilkacis.
The Grollics freaky yellow eyes looked like
some kind of wolf or scary beast.
I typed in diakonos and the word I could make out, and still
made no sense was: service.
It
was like trying to connect the dots without the numbers.

A
fternoon faded
into early evening before I realized how long I’d been working.
Flipping the lights on, I made some pasta from the cupboard and
turned the futon into a bed to get more comfortable. A knock on the
door startled me, causing me to throw the bed cover instead of
shake it out to flutter onto the mattress.

Michael poked his head through the door. “Hi,
beautiful. You should lock the door if you’re on your
own.”

“
You’ve never knocked before.”
I smiled and hopped onto the bed. “Do you
honestly think a locked door will stop one of you or some
Grollic?”

“
This place is actually equipped with bullet
proof
tamper glass and the
door is –”

“
Why in the world?” They were immortal, why need
protection?

He chuckled and gave a half shrug.
“Caleb’s business creates and sells all sorts of
inventions. He likes trying them out at home.”

“He’s got a business
on top of the whole Coven-thing?”

Michael laughed. “He’s a genius and likes making
money. Plus, it’s a good cover for the Coven. Interesting board
meetings.” He sat on the bed and squeezed my hand. “I won’t bore
you with details.”

“
I don’t think you can ever be boring.” I stifled
back a yawn, turning red since I had been serious when I spoke. My
tired body thought otherwise.

“
Liar.” He winked.

“Honest. I’ve just
been reading and searching the internet for anything I could
find.”

“Any luck?”

“
Nothing
you
don’t already know.” My gaze travelled along the outline of his
body, the perfect blond hair, broad shoulders with their little
boney parts sticking out over sculpted muscles. I reached out and
brushed my hand over his back, enjoying the warmth that seeped
through his shirt onto my hands and deep into my core. “What’s it
like, having already died once?”

“
Fascinated, aren’t you?” He
crawled over my legs and settled down beside me.
“It’s hard to explain… my human life seems so long ago. I’ve
forgotten a lot of things. My living memories seem like trying to
remember something you did as a child. Sometimes a picture triggers
a thought or memory. Everything is so much easier now.” He ran his
fingers through his hair. “It’s weird. I remember my parents and
the day we were killed very clearly – better than Grace. I can
remember everything from that day –the sound of my mother’s voice,
the sweet smell from the nearby fields, how dark the night became,
all of it. I’m not sure why. I’ve asked Caleb, but he didn’t have
an answer either.”

“
At least things are better as you are now. All
you’re little powers and the not dying part makes things
easier.”

“
I wouldn’t say that.” He sighed, long and deep.
“I’ve adapted and accepted what I am. At first I loved it, then
resented it, then accepted it. However, there’s no going back. I’ll
never have the luxury of growing old, or having children, or
grandchildren. When I was eighteen or nineteen years old, I very
much wanted to marry and have kids. To buy land and build a house
with my own hands, set roots down.” He lay quiet for a moment.
“What about you; have you ever thought about children?”

“The past seventeen
years I’ve resented being born. There’s no way I’d want a kid to
grow up the same way I have.”

“It wouldn’t be like
that.”

“
Michael, I don’t know who my parents are, or if
they are even alive. I spent my entire life in the foster system. I
wasn’t a bad kid, just unlucky I guess. When I was twelve, I spent
the summer with a pretty messed up family. The foster parents had a
seventeen-year-old boy who was really screwed up. He didn’t like me
and spent most of the summer trying to make it torture for me.
Stupid things at first, like pushing me down the last two steps
when we came down the stairs or kicking me in the shins when his
parents weren’t looking. It was my fault as I never said anything
and he grew bolder. He would sneak into my room at night when I was
sleeping and would light matches to burn my arm or put pins in my
bed – stupid things. I just kept quiet because I thought he'd
eventually give up. I figured he would get bored because I wouldn’t
cry or tell on him.