Marked (6 page)

CHAPTER TEN

C
acy and her siblings stood in the dead chill of the Veil, watching as Rylan compressed his Scope and pulled it wide again. She didn’t know where her father’s soul would be waiting, but the Scope always took them where they needed to go. It always knew.

That knowledge didn’t save her from the wave of pure confusion that sloshed over her as she stepped through the intra-Veil portal. Dec’s eyes went wide, echoing her surprise. She had expected to arrive at their Back Bay brownstone. Or their father’s posh office at Psychopomps Inc., where
he’d
pretty much lived for the last fifteen years. Or that meadow in Siberia where
he’d
scattered her mother’s ashes.

She had not expected to arrive in front of a boxy apartment building on a dingy street. “Where the fuck is this?” she asked.

“Cambridge, my salty-mouthed darling.” Her father walked toward her, arms outstretched. “Thank you for coming.” His embrace was strong, which brought her tears to the surface all over again. “And thank you for trying to save me,” he said in her ear. “Please tell your partner he did an admirable job as well. He has my . . . gratitude.”

“Daddy,” she choked. “How—?”

“Father,” said Rylan, moving forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Tell us what happened. We have to catch whoever did this to you!”

Their father released Cacy from his embrace and gave Rylan a firm hug. “Forgive me, son. Hashing out the details of the human crime that led to my death is not how I want to spend my final moments with my children.”

He pulled back and took Rylan’s face in his hands. “You are the Charon now. You will make the hard choices from now on.” His pale, burning eyes bored into Rylan’s. He drew him close again, clutching his eldest son’s head against his shoulder as if Rylan were a little boy and not the most powerful Ferry in the world.

He took a few moments to embrace each of his children in turn, whispering secret, final words into their ears.

He saved Cacy for last. “Cacia,” he said as he held her tight. “You want vengeance, I know. But I need you to do something else for me. Protecting the future is more important than righting the wrongs of the past.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” she whispered fiercely.

“Not today.” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.

He let her go and turned to Rylan. “Show me my future, Charon.”

Rylan’s face blanched. So did Dec’s. Aislin was already so freaking pale it was hard to tell for sure, but she still looked utterly calm, like she was in an administrative meeting instead of saying good-bye to her father forever.

Cacy stared at the Scope in her brother’s trembling hand. She knew what he was thinking. What if they were about to send their father to Hell?

“Children,” chuckled their father. “You have so little faith in me?” His expression became serious. “Whatever the outcome, you do it, and you do it fast.”

Rylan drew himself up straight. He flipped the Scope in his palm so the scales were facing up and brushed his thumb over its surface. Cacy held her breath . . . and nearly fell to the ground with relief as the center of the Scope glimmered white, shooting a beam of crystal-bright light into the sky. Dec looked at the ground and blinked. A tear hit his boot and slid to the soft cement beneath his feet.

Rylan smiled as he pulled the portal to Heaven wide. A huge weight had just been removed from his shoulders, Cacy could tell.

“Say hi to Mommy for me,” she whispered, squinting into the blinding light, trying to make out the sparkling, swirling images within.

Patrick Ferry smiled as his eyes fell on her and then rested briefly on each of her siblings. “I love you all, and I will miss you, but you do not have to worry about whether I am happy.”

He stepped into the portal. Rylan pulled it shut behind him, but not before catching the shining gold coin that came flying from its center. He snapped his Scope back onto its chain, then held the gold coin up and slowly turned in place, his smile morphing into a grimace.

“Here it is, you bastard!” he roared. “Come and get your commission!”

“Rylan,” Aislin said sharply. “Do you really—?”

“Shut up!” he snapped as he held the coin high. “Come on, the Kere are usually so cutthroat. Moros or one of his lieutenants come calling within hours if a Ferry tries to stiff them on the commission. They only care about lining their pockets. So where is this guy? I want to see what kind of coward would Mark our father. I want to see—”

“Control yourself and
think
,” Aislin snapped. “If the Ker is a coward as you suggest, why would he show himself now? Be logical. This likely proves it was an unauthorized Marking, but we won’t learn anything else tonight.”

He and Aislin glared at each other. Fire and ice.

Breathing hard, his eyes full of rage and sorrow, he tossed the coin at her feet. “You can keep this then,” he said, his voice cracking.

Aislin plucked her Scope from the platinum chain at her neck, opened it wide, and stepped through. The abandoned coin glinted dully on the sidewalk where
she’d
been.

As soon as her sister disappeared, Cacy dropped to the curb and pulled her knees to her chest. She waited for the desolate emptiness of grief to swallow her, but it didn’t. She knew her parents were together now, and as fucked-up as the circumstances were, that knowledge would allow her to go on.

“What now?” asked Dec. His boots were next to her legs. One of them was still streaked with the narrow path of his tear. His hand rested gently on her head, and she leaned against him and closed her eyes.

“I apologize for calling you an asshole,” she said quietly.

“Already forgiven. I shouldn’t have called you a child.”

“It’s okay. You know that.”

“It’s not okay,” said Rylan. “None of this is
okay
. I’m going back. I’m going to find out what the hell happened.”

Remembering her father’s final advice to her, Cacy said, “Father didn’t want—”

“Father is gone, little sister,” Rylan said, grasping her arm and wrenching her to her feet as Dec took a step back, looking uneasy. “I’m the Charon now, and I will see justice done.”

Staring into Rylan’s dark eyes, seeing the anger and hurt and determination there, she totally understood. If their father, who had led their family for the last century, could be slaughtered so easily, what did that mean for Rylan? What did that mean for the rest of them? He would need to be strong and decisive in the coming days. He would need to confront Moros, the leader of the Kere, and demand an explanation. He would need to reassure all their associates that he was in control of the business. He would need to make sure justice was done on the human side, as well. They were, after all, the wealthiest family in Boston. If he didn’t put up a show of strength, who knew what could happen?

It could be open season on Ferrys.

Cacy nodded at Rylan, and he released her arm and stepped back, straightening his suit with brisk movements. “I’d better return to headquarters and get the next steps straight with Aislin. We need to present a united front.” He winked at Cacy. “In other words, we’ll duke it out and be just fine.”

She grinned. “I won’t object if you knock a few of her teeth out.”

“Cacy,”
chided Dec. For reasons she would never understand,
he’d
always gotten along with Aislin.

Rylan stroked Cacy’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, all right? We’ll get dinner at Lombo’s.” He flipped his Scope and opened himself a portal.

“That would be nice.” She waved at him as he stepped through the glassy bubble and pulled it shut behind him.

Dec held out his hand, and Cacy took it. “Are you going straight home?” he asked as he unsnapped the Scope from his neck.

“I need to go get my Scope. What if someone found it, Dec?” She shivered, her fingers traveling to the delicate chain where the empty setting hung. Although she dreaded going back to the scene of her father’s murder, she didn’t want to give Rylan anything else to worry about.

“We’ll find it. Remember when that canal pirate snatched mine while we were working that building collapse?”

She laughed grimly. Dec had suffered a deep scalpel wound to his neck, but the loss of his Scope was what had upset their father the most. She couldn’t imagine how much gold
he’d
shelled out to get Dec’s Scope off the black market.

“I’m going to go look for it. Hopefully it’s still there,” she said.

Dec squeezed her hand. “Don’t go alone. Maybe you could call Trevor.”

She clenched her teeth. “No, thanks.”

Dec’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Did you guys have a falling out?”

“What if he’s the one who Marked Father?” It felt weird, saying her fear aloud, but she realized this terrible thought had been rattling in her brain ever since
she’d
seen the jagged Theta mark on her father’s chest.

“No. No way.” Dec shook his head and let go of her hand. “He would have warned me. Or he would have refused.”

Every once in a while, a Ker did refuse a job—but only at a terrible cost.
She’d
heard the rumors and stories at family gatherings since she was a little girl: Apart from the fact that refusing to Mark caused the Kere intense physical pain, Moros also punished them severely for their disobedience. They usually lived to tell about it, but they were never quite the same.

Cacy remembered the sound of Trevor’s voice as
he’d
told her
he’d
gotten a last-minute assignment. She asked Dec, “Are you sure?”

Trevor was Dec’s closest friend, but she wasn’t sure the Ker would be willing to endure the terrible suffering that came with refusal, even for her brother. At the moment, she wasn’t sure she knew Trevor at all.

Dec set his jaw. “Absolutely. Let it go, Cace. It’s pointless to try to figure out who did it tonight.” He looked away from her, like he was ashamed of his own words.

“I guess that’s why
Ry’s
the Charon,” she said.

Dec nodded without looking up. “Maybe, but—”

The smell of rot hit her a split second before the Shades attacked. A screeching roar split the silence as an oozing gray hand closed around her throat, its eerily strong fingers digging in. Wheezing for breath, Cacy kicked back but made no contact. The Shade knocked her to the ground and pressed her face into the gelatinous cement. Cacy reached back, buried her fingers in the Shade’s rags, and rolled over. It shrieked and yanked at her hair, trying to claw her eyes with its ragged fingernails. She elbowed it in the side and twisted to punch it in the face.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dec fighting off two other Shades as they wrestled for the Scope in his hand. She lunged for them, but the Shade beneath her grabbed her leg and clamped its teeth on to her calf. It couldn’t break through the surface of her uniform, but it held her in a punishing vise grip all the same.

Cacy jumped and brought her other leg down in the center of the Shade’s chest. Her foot penetrated its rib cage and sank in, but the Shade didn’t seem to care that
she’d
just stomped on its long-silent heart. It released its toothy grip on her calf and grabbed her belt, jerking her down to her knees. Before she could lean back, the Shade grabbed her neck and tore, blazing an agonizing trail of fire along her throat.

She gave a wet cough as her blood poured onto the Shade’s face. It shoved her aside, uprooting her foot from its chest and twisting her ankle in the process. It rose to its feet and held up its prize—her broken platinum chain—in front of its rotted-out eyes. But then its horrible grin opened wide to become a roar of rage.

It didn’t turn to attack her again, though.

All it wanted was a Scope, and she didn’t have one.

Cacy lay on the ground, panting, pressing her hand over the gushing wound in her neck, watching helplessly as the Shade joined the other two fighting Dec. She tried to scream but couldn’t.

Dec shouted in pain. Then all three Shades shrieked and took off running.

“Dammit!” Dec took two steps after them, then paused and turned to Cacy. “I’ll come back, I swear. They got my Scope.”

He took off after the Shades, legs and arms pumping hard. In her mind, Cacy ran with him, just as desperate and determined. Myths about zombies had a basis in reality. Dec had to get his Scope back or the Shades would open a portal into the real world.

But Cacy wasn’t running with him. She couldn’t help her brother. She could barely help herself. Chest heaving, she dragged herself across the sidewalk to the stoop in front of the apartment building where her father had awaited his fate. She rolled onto her back and stared at the clear black sky, wondering how long it would be before her brother returned. A hard chill of fear coursed through her. She needed to get back through the Veil, back to the real world, so she could heal properly. Wounds inflicted in the Veil festered and stayed open here.

Her eyelids fluttered, and her head felt like it had been packed with gauze and stuffed in an insta-cold limbsack. The frigid air of the Veil sank deep into her bones.
She’d
often thought about the horrors of being trapped here, in this in-between world, cut off from color and warmth, cut off from other people. No wonder the Shades were rabid and desperate.

Of course, most of them had been destined for Hell, so this place was probably a step up. But it wasn’t enough to keep them from wanting to go back to the warm, real world. Which was exactly what Cacy wanted at the moment.

“God, what a shitty night,” she rasped.

A distant shriek startled her from a drowsy haze. She tried to scoot to a sitting position but found she was too weak. So she lay within the chill, waiting to discover who would find her first. Her brother, or the Shades.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E
li walked slowly through his apartment, Cacy’s pendant clutched tightly in his hand. After
he’d
stepped through it, it had shrunk back down to a tiny, unassuming size at the slightest touch. But it wasn’t cold anymore; it had grown warm. He concluded he was either going crazy—or Cacy had a lot more going on than an average woman.

He reached for the doorknob of Galena’s room, wondering what she would think of the pendant, whether she could make any more sense of it than he had. But the knob just squished in his hand. He turned his back and leaned against the door, only to fall through it and land with a splat on his ass.

Galena’s bed was mussed. The sheets formed a lump in the shape of her body, but Eli could barely see her. She looked like a ghost, transparent and hazy. He leaned forward to touch her, but his hand swept right through her.

His teeth began to chatter, and the walls felt as if they were about to cave in on top of him. He had to get out of this place. It made him feel like something awful was about to happen. He needed air. With great squelching steps, Eli ran right through the door of his apartment and down the hall to the entryway. An echoing screech from outside froze him in place. He ducked and peered between the bars over the tiny window in the door to the building. What he saw made his heart turn as cold as the air in this dead, gray world.

Cacy Ferry lay on the front steps in a black puddle. Her throat had been torn open. Her eyes were huge and dark in her starkly pale face. And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

“Cacy!” He plunged through the door and sank to his knees next to her, pulling her slender, shivering body against his chest. “Cacy. Look at me.”

She blinked up at him and let out a raspy whimper. “Eli?” He lifted her from the ground as another shriek rent the night. It sounded like it was coming from only a few blocks away. His arms tightened around her.

“Inside,” she whispered. “Get inside.”

He carried her up the steps, through the door, and back to his apartment. She felt so light and fragile in his arms. His shirt was now soaked with her blood. She wouldn’t last long if he couldn’t stop the bleeding. All his questions and confusion evaporated in the face of this one essential task: keep Cacy alive.

He had no intention of letting her down again.

Still cradling her in his arms, he slid through the door of his bedroom.

And jerked to a stop.

From between the bars over his sealed bedroom window, a pair of glowing red eyes looked back at him. Eli was struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu.

“What is it?” Cacy asked quietly, her voice a little steadier than it had been just seconds ago. She turned her head toward the window and tensed. “Oh God.” Cacy looked even paler now.

The eyes disappeared.

“Was that what I heard shrieking outside?” Eli asked.

Cacy shook her head, and her eyelids fluttered closed. “But it was probably looking for someone who lives in this building.”

Eli walked cautiously to his bed and laid her on top of the sheets. He leaned over and peeked out the window, but the streets were empty. “Cacy,
I
live in this building.”

A shadow of anxiety flickered in her eyes. “We . . . have to . . . get back.” Her words came in gasping, halting syllables.

He held out her pendant. “Using this?”

Her eyes went wide, full of questions, but she nodded. With trembling fingers, she reached up to take it from him, but she couldn’t seem to get a good grip on it. Eli sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, letting her lean against him. He held the pendant, and she swiped her thumb across its raven etching. It immediately turned to a warm, pulsing ring.

“Help me open it,” she whispered.

He did as she asked, pulling the ring wide, opening up a window to the colorful world
he’d
left a few minutes earlier. She guided the ring over their heads, and he helped her slide it over their legs. Warm, humid air hit his skin. Cacy’s head lolled on his shoulder, and he supported it carefully as he laid her down to examine her.
She’d
finally passed out. He was surprised
she’d
been able to stay conscious and lucid for so long.

The gaping wound at her pale throat looked slightly smaller than it had a minute ago. And, oddly, it had stopped bleeding. Faint blue veins stood out on her closed eyelids. But she had lost a lot of blood. He grabbed her wrist and felt for her pulse, sagging with relief as he found it, strong and steady, beneath his fingers. He fished his first-aid kit from his rucksack.

Moving quickly, he pressed an autostaunch over her neck wound and pulled her arm into his lap. Her sleeve was too tight for him to push it up and get access to the vein. Wincing, hoping she wouldn’t get upset when she found out, he unzipped the front of her uniform and peeled the blood-soaked material from her body. God, she wasn’t wearing a bra. All he needed. Focusing attention on her now-bare arm, he injected her with self-perpetuating saline and a vial of plasma to rehydrate her.

Anxious about the wound on her throat, Eli carefully removed the autostaunch bandage to check it once more. He froze. The deep gash was almost completely closed.

“You are
not
a normal woman,” he said softly, brushing his fingers across her chin, which now showed no signs of its earlier collision with the pavement. Still shaking his head, he went to the bathroom to get a few enzymatic cloths. He stripped off his bloody shirt and wiped himself down, already looking forward to a shower tonight at the station.

With a few more cloths in his hands, he returned to his bedroom. He spent a few seconds in the doorway, staring at the woman on his bed. Her torso was streaked with blood, and there were smudges of it on her cheeks, but she was still the loveliest thing
he’d
ever seen. As briskly as he could, he cleaned her off. Her skin was warm and temptingly smooth beneath his hands. Eli ran his fingers over the skin of her shoulder blade, where
he’d
expected to find a horrible, deep bruise from where
she’d
been hit with the bolt-bullet, but all he saw was pale, creamy flesh. She had an intricate tattoo of a raven on her back, identical to the raven etched on her pendant. And now he could read the words below the raven’s feet:
Fatum Nos Vocat.

He’d
have to ask Cacy what it meant. It was only one of a million questions he had for her, including what the hell kind of world her pendant contained and why it seemed familiar to him. But right now, he was just relieved. She would live.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a T-shirt. He pushed her head through the neck and threaded her arms through the short sleeves, then laid her back on the sheets.

He lowered his head over her nose and smiled as the soft warmth of her exhalations tickled the side of his face. Her breathing was rhythmic and deep. She sighed and turned over, her breasts resting against his arm, her jet-black hair spreading across his pillow, her spicy scent making him dizzy. Her full lips parted. Her cheeks were flushed. She was sleeping. Maybe dreaming. In his bed. Wearing one of his shirts.

He shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the waistband of his pants. Cacy had sent him from emergency triage mode to raging erection in two minutes flat. He got up, stripped down to his boxer briefs, and grabbed a pillow from the bed before allowing himself one final glance at her face. He went out into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, mentally cataloging first-aid supplies in alphabetical order to get his mind off the woman sleeping in his bed. He hadn’t gotten past chemical defib solution before his exhaustion got the better of him.