Intangible (23 page)

And then it was gone. Just as quickly as it had started. The pain, the voices, the nausea—all gone.

He finished retching, and rolled over onto his back. He coughed a few times as he drew deep breaths, and then just lay there, his arms out to his sides, not moving. If he’d had the energy he would have seethed at what they’d just done to him, but he was completely spent. And scared. What if his life turned back into that? He couldn’t do that. Never again.

“Next time, you will have more news for us.” There was a light
thunk
as something hit the ground near his head, then complete silence. Slowly, the hum of people’s thoughts came back to the edges of his mind, and he knew the Shadows were gone.

Marc breathed in the damp air coming up off the lake just yards from where he lay. A few more minutes and he’d be able to get up and stumble back to his car.

And then he needed to figure out how he was going to get Sera to show him that she could heal. Maybe he needed to injure himself. He sat up suddenly—then wished he hadn’t. That wasn’t a bad idea. If he was hurt, surely she would heal him, and he’d have the confirmation he needed for the Shadows.

He dropped his head into his hands at that thought. Because, really, there was no way he could betray Sera and Luke to the Shadows. And there was no way he couldn’t.

He wished more and more that he was already dead.

TWENTY-TWO

“W
hy was France nearly bankrupt when Louis the sixteenth came to power?” Luke leaned back against the large throw pillows and flipped through a few pages in his history book. The studying would go a lot faster if Sera and Fey would stay on topic. He glanced at Sera sprawled across the other end of his bed, and Fey in the chair over by his window, and shook his head. Sometimes it was impossible to get them to focus.

“Because they helped during the American Revolution.” Sera dropped a couple pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

“And they fought in the Seven Years War not long before that,” Luke said.

“Do you really think we need to know that?” She looked across the room at Fey, who shrugged.

“Only if you want to pass the test,” Luke said. And he did. If only to give himself one less thing to worry about.

Sera eyed Luke, then turned to Fey. “So, what do you think?”

“About your mom telling you you’re adopted?”

Sera nodded her head. Luke exhaled loudly. They needed to study, not talk. And yet he paused, watched Fey’s face.

“I think it must have been hard for her.”

Sera blinked. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did she tell you about your birth family?”

Luke looked at Sera. It seemed to him that Fey should have been more surprised by the fact that they were adopted. It was identity-shattering news. Most people would be shocked. This was not the reaction he’d expected.

Luke flipped to another page in the history book. “She said that our birth parents died in a fire with our six older brothers.”

“Hmmm,” was all Fey said. They were all silent for a moment.

Luke waited in the silence, then looked down at his book again. “What is a regressive tax system?”

“Where the poor use up a disproportionately larger percentage of their resources and income to pay taxes than the rich do. And in France the clergy and nobility were given many tax exemptions while the rest of the people were overtaxed to the point where they could not be taxed any higher and be able to live. They were already malnourished and starving as it was.”

Luke stared at Fey, his mouth open.

“What?” she said. “So I know a little history.”

“Impressive,” Luke said. And he meant it. Fey was amazing in every way and she never failed to surprise him. Even now after knowing her practically his whole life.

“Can we get back to what we were talking about?” Fey said.

“The French Revolution?” Luke asked.

“Your birth family. Six older brothers makes you the seventh son.”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, I guess so. But we’re supposed to be studying for a test.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be something significant about a seventh son?” Fey got up from her overstuffed chair and walked over to Luke’s desk. “May I?” She indicated his computer.

“Sure.” Luke raised his eyebrows at Sera. What was up with Fey? Sera shrugged and shook her head, then turned her attention back to Fey, who was furiously typing something.

“What are you doing?” Luke said.

“Looking up the seventh son.”

“Why?” Sera said.

“Well, aren’t you curious? They’re supposed to have special powers, or something.” Fey studied the computer screen. “Here. It’s actually the seventh son of a seventh son. They are thought to have second sight and healing powers.”

The hairs on Luke’s body felt as if they were all standing straight out, and a chill passed down his neck. He looked over at Sera to see his own shock mirrored on her face. They stared at each other for a brief second, then hopped off the bed, and crowded around Fey.

Luke’s eyes scanned the page she was on. It listed the names of a few well-known seventh sons who claimed to have such powers, and discussed the significance of the birth. This was what he was, he became more sure of it with each page he read. He was the seventh son of a seventh son, and since Sera was born with him, somehow they shared the powers.

Looking up to meet Sera’s eyes over the top of Fey’s head, he saw amazement and a little bit of worry. He wished he knew what it all meant—he had so many questions, but there was no one to ask.

But the biggest question in his mind was: how could this new information help him save Sera’s life?
Shall she be the first to die, Seer? The more dangerous.
A chill shivered through Luke. He knew that somehow this seventh son stuff was connected.

“Hey, look at this,” Fey said. “In France, the seventh son of a seventh son was branded with the
fleur-de-lis
.”

“That seems a bit mean.” Sera leaned in closer to read the screen. “In Romania, they believed the seventh son or daughter would become a vampire.” She straightened up suddenly and looked toward the window.

“We could do that,” Fey said.

“Turn us into vampires?” Luke laughed. Sera looked at them both with wide eyes.

“Mark you two with the
fleur-de-lis
.”

Luke stopped laughing. “You want to brand us?”

“
Mark
you. With a pen.” Fey made a drawing motion with her hand. Luke and Sera both stared at her in silence. “Just for fun. It’d be like a tattoo only without the needle.” They didn’t say anything. “Seriously? Haven’t you ever thought about getting a tattoo?”

“You’re assuming,” Luke said, “that I am the seventh son of a seventh son.”

Fey raised one eyebrow at him. “In fact, I’m not assuming anything. I am, however, suggesting we do something fun. Unless you’re opposed to fun today.”

Luke turned to Sera. He was game if she was. She nodded, half shrugged. He looked at Fey again and paused. There was an intensity to her at the moment that he’d never seen before. This was important to her for some reason.

“Are we all doing it?” Luke said.

“Sure,” Fey said.

“Okay, I’m in,” Luke said. “But Sera’s going to draw it, right?”

Fey smiled, a bit wicked. “No way. My idea, my pen, my artwork.”

A flash of worry crossed his face. “Yeah, but can you draw?”

“You worried?”

“Uh—
yeah
. I can’t have you marring the perfection that is me.” Luke laughed and Sera threw a fistful of popcorn at him.

“That settles it, you’re first.” Fey got up from the desk chair and walked over to her bag. “You in, Sera?” She rustled around in it with her hand, searching for something.

“Sure,” Sera said, though she didn’t sound entirely certain about it. “It washes off?”

“The ink?” Fey grabbed something in her bag. “Ah! Here it is. It fades. After a while.” She sat back on her heels, and pulled out the pen she’d been looking for.

It was gold with ornate designs all around the outside casing. Swirls and symbols Luke had never seen before adorned the body. It looked like a fancy fountain pen—a really old one. Fey held it out in her hand with reverence.

“Wow,” Sera whispered, and reached out a tentative hand to touch it.

“I know,” Fey said. “My father gave this to me.”

“What design are we going to use? Do you want to draw it first on paper so we can see it?” Luke said. He studied Fey as she and Sera admired the pen. He thought she was practically glowing as she looked at it. The glow looked good on her.

“You really don’t trust me, do you Luke.” It wasn’t a question. She was teasing—Luke knew that. Because he did trust her. Almost as much as he trusted Sera, and that was saying something.

Fey sat back down at the computer. “Let’s look up some designs and we can pick the one we like. We’ll all have the same one, agreed?”

They did a search for the tattoos. There were hundreds of
fleur-de-lis
designs—most were recognizable variations of the classic with three sections on top and three below. Nothing really grabbed Luke’s attention until they found one that looked like a jagged knife above and below, with stylized swirls tucked in alongside them. A spiral was etched into the top of one blade, and Luke would swear it was bound by an eye in the middle.

Just like their necklaces.

It was perfect, Luke thought. The blades had small nicks in them and something about the rawness of it seemed right. Fey volunteered to draw it on herself first, and Luke was a little relieved. At least he’d know how it would look before she drew on him. Of course, he wouldn’t back out now, even if she had no talent for drawing at all. He wasn’t going to let her go it alone. Not Fey.

She used a wet wash cloth to clean the inside of her wrist, where she’d decided the marks would go. Seemed as good a place as any. Fey uncapped her pen, held it above her wrist. Luke noticed the end of it came to a very sharp point. Sharp enough to cut? He hoped not.

With a surprisingly steady hand, Fey drew a perfect imitation of the image they’d found online. Luke’s mouth hung open. She could
draw
. Apparently there was nothing she couldn’t do.

“Wow,” Sera said.

“You’ve done this before,” Luke said.

“A couple of times.”

“We’ve never seen it.” It almost sounded like an accusation coming out of Luke’s mouth. It kind of felt like it too. Though perhaps it wasn’t fair for him to be bothered that she kept some things secret—he certainly did.

“No, you haven’t.”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Fey. “Ah, the mysterious Fey. So many hidden talents, so many secrets.” She just smiled at him.

“It’s beautiful,” Sera said, reaching her fingers out to touch Fey’s newly decorated wrist. “Is it dry?”

“It dries immediately,” Fey said, holding her arm out for Sera to feel. “It’s special ink.”

“Do me now.” Sera held out her wrist. “Please.”

With steady, flowing strokes, Fey drew an exact replica on the inside of Sera’s wrist, and then again on Luke’s. While she drew, Luke was almost sure that the pen glowed a couple of times. But when he looked at it closely, it seemed normal. Maybe it was just the way the afternoon light was hitting it.

He barely felt the touch of the pen as Fey drew, bent over his wrist, wisps of her blonde hair draping across his arm like silk. He watched her, took in the curve of her neck, the feel of her hand on his arm, the smell of the wind in her hair. That was one thing that he still noticed about Fey—she didn’t smell like anyone else. She smelled like the wind on a warm spring day.

When Fey was done, Luke and Sera both marveled over the beauty of their Marks.

“Maybe we should get real tattoos.” Luke ran his fingers along the lines of his Mark. “This looks really cool.” He looked up at Fey with a smile, and she grinned back at him.

“Do I get special powers too since I have one?” Fey said, waving her wrist at them.

“Sure,” Sera said. “You can have the power to charm people.”

“And kick ass,” Luke said. “That’d be a great power to have, don’t you think?”

Fey nodded. “It would certainly come in handy at times.”

“Will this really wash off?” Sera blew on her wrist. “I’m not sure I want it to. I like it.”

“It fades.” Fey looked from Sera to Luke, closed her eyes and sighed. Luke watched her. She’d been all wound up for weeks and she finally looked more at ease, like her old self. “So,” she said, “what’s it like being able to heal and See?”

Luke and Sera both froze for a moment, and a tiny little smile flashed across Fey’s face. Luke shook his head and smiled. “We wish we could tell you,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. And that was true. He wanted to tell Fey—he knew they could trust her, but Sera wouldn’t even consider it. She was too scared of losing Fey like they’d lost their grandmother. She didn’t want to risk it regardless of how many times Luke assured her Fey could handle it. That he just had a feeling about it.

He tore his eyes away from Fey’s, spotted his open European history book on the bed. “Maybe we should get back to studying?”

Sera groaned and flopped down on the floor with as much drama as she could muster. “Do we
have
to?” she said.