Seventh Mark (Part 1 +2) (10 page)

Holding the
book between my fingers, I sat back, eyes wide. My favorite nursery
story as a child was Little Red Riding Hood. Boy, had this story
changed from the original version.

I turned the
page. Both sides of the book had hand written, in point form, notes
about the girl and possible ways to kill or stop her. Other
questions asked if there was more than one girl and how they came
into existence. Simple sketches filled the pages. I couldn’t make
heads or tails of those any more than the handwritten stuff.

Bile rose in
the back of my throat when I flipped to the next page. The right
side displayed a crudely hand drawn Grollic. A disgustingly ugly
one. A series of diagrams showed a man turning into the Grollic.
Each picture had detailed anatomy and notes along the sides.
Interesting, the Grollic’s heart was actually on the right side of
its body, higher up than on most animals or humans. In human-form,
the heart rested on the left side but as he shifted into
Grollic-form, the heart would also shift.

It was the last
picture my eyes kept flitting back to - the mammoth size of the
beast, the ferocious face with yellow eyes and snarl of sharp
teeth. The drawing so life like, it kept bringing me back to that
night in the forest.

I shivered, and
tried to swallow. An eerie scraping noise against my window nearly
had me screaming. I closed my eyes, willing the noise to stop.

It didn’t.

Inhaling a
long, slow breath, I then opened my eyes and focused on the window,
too scared to get up and look outside.
Don’t be such a freakin’
wimp.
Squinty, I realized the wind had picked up and a broken
branch hung onto another limb. It scraped against the window as the
wind blew the still connected limb. A big gust knocked the loose
branch down and the ting against the roof of Jim’s car told me it’d
landed.

My heart still
in my throat, I shook my head in disgust.
Wimp. Loser.
I
chided myself.
Get back to reading.
Except I now had to put
my hand over the monster’s picture to focus on the other side of
the book. I stared at the human drawing. A small marking caught my
attention, above the right aorta of the heart near the collar bone.
It showed a detailed drawing of the tattoo on the corner of the
page. I squinted. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recalled
seeing it before. Scratching my scalp, I couldn’t place where.

The remainder
of the book switched back into the weird foreign writing. I shut it
and tossed it onto my nightstand.
Enough stupid monsters for one
night.
The clock radio read 1:30 a.m. Before switching the
light off, I glanced at my messy pile on the floor. It would give
me something to do, a reason to get out of bed since tomorrow was
Saturday.

Weird dreams
visited me throughout the night. Grollics and angels killing each
other, cutting themselves and letting their blood drip into the
enemy’s cuts. Girls in red dresses and capes running through
forests, with white monsters in pursuit. Tattoos on everyone to
mark if they were Grollic, angel, or human. Angels morphing into
beasts scarier than a Grollic.

I woke early
with the feeling I never really slept. Covered in sweat, I threw a
pillow over my head and tried to fall back asleep. The sun had not
yet risen, and I didn’t want to get up with nothing to do but put
my shoes and clothes away. After forty minutes, a few tiny little
rays of light began peeking through my window.

Throwing on my
red-hooded sweatshirt and a clean pair of jeans, I turned to leave.
I ran back to the nightstand to grab a ponytail holder and saw the
Grollic book. I grabbed it too. If I was going to go see the
sunrise, I might as well have something to look through.
Less
scary in the daylight.

It was cool
enough that no fog or mist had come in during the night. I walked
to the cemetery-park Michael and I had met, buying a latte at a
Starbucks along the way. At the park I sat on a bench, drinking, as
I watched the sun make its way over the horizon.
Beautiful and
peaceful
. The world kept turning even when it felt like mine
had stopped.

After an hour
my bladder told me it’d had enough. I jumped up to throw my empty
cup into a garbage on the path when a sudden realization hit me
like a punch in the gut. I stumbled back to the bench and sat
dumb-founded.
The mark!

I’d seen it
before on somebody. That day in the courtyard.

Could the beast
be human?

Damon.

Damon’s a
Grollic.

When he’d
threatened me during Halloween, he thought I was the same thing as
the Knightlys.
Impossible!
Michael, Grace or Caleb would
know.
Right?

I thought back
to my encounter with Damon in the school parking lot. I’d worn the
necklace. Michael’s
Siorghra
had blood inside which could
kill him. He thought I could kill him. Another thought hit me like
a wave of nausea.
It was Damon in the woods the night on the
beach
.

He said there
were more of his kind.

Michael and his
family must know. But what if they didn’t? What if Damon’s pack was
ready to attack Michael’s family? What if they already had? And I’d
done nothing.

Running home as
fast as I could, I took the stairs two at a time and grabbed the
keys to Grace’s car. Jim hollered something at me as I raced out
the door. I ignored him. There wasn’t time to argue or explain.

I unlocked,
tossed the book on the seat and stuck the keys in the ignition. The
car started and revved as if it knew I had to hurry. I shoved the
gearshift into drive and flew down the roads, fingers crossed for
no police. They were the least of my worries. Hopefully Caleb
wouldn’t kill me and ask questions later.

Or maybe, he
would and I’d find out I’m one of them.

The car slowed
to a crawl when it came to their driveway. My foot could not press
the gas pedal.
Maybe this is a mistake
. How could a simple
human figure out something useful to a family, especially one like
Caleb? If they were okay, they probably were planning some
counter-attack.

“Stop being
such a wimp,” I hissed at my reflection in the review mirror. “Just
go up to the house and bang on the door. Hand the book to whoever
opens and tell them Damon’s a Grollic. Then leave.” I’d have to
walk home but at least I could return the keys and necklace and try
to forget them and move on with my life.

I parked beside
the mustang and marched towards the house, forcing through the urge
to run away. Hand in the air, ready to bang on the door, I realized
I’d left the book on the passenger seat. About to turn around to
grab it, the door swung open.

Michael.

My body froze,
but my heart hammered at record breaking speed. Dressed in a white
shirt, his tanned skin looked perfect. I couldn’t stop myself from
staring. My thoughts over the past few weeks had left so many
details out. The rush of feelings caught off guard.

If he was
surprised to see me, he didn’t let on. “Hello, Rouge.”

Stuffing my
hands into my jean pockets, I cleared my throat and tried to sound
normal. “I know you told me not to come, but there’s something
really important I need to tell you.”

“Has something
happened?” He stepped onto the porch and glanced behind me, most
likely scanning for hidden monsters.

“No…Yes...Maybe.” I blinked a bunch of times, ticked my eyes
burned.

“It’s dangerous
you’re here.”

His words or
posture gave away nothing. I couldn’t read his thoughts. “I know.”
I swallowed, my eyes darting inside as I tried to calm the anxiety
inside me.

His expression
broke. He wavered and looked as lost as me.

I stepped
toward him and stumbled, unable to keep my knees from buckling. His
arms surrounded me and he held me tight. My head instinctively went
to his chest and I left it there, inhaling his wonderful masculine
aftershave, the taut muscles under his shirt, his warmth, all of
it.
Would it be wrong to want to stay here forever?
I then
remembered the real reason I’d come. Putting my hands on his
shoulders, I pushed him back a few inches so I could think. “We
really
need to talk. Can I come in?”

“Maybe it would
be better out here.” He paused and his eyes shifted back and forth
at mine.

I shook my head
and exhaled a long breath. “I think I’d better come in and you
should get Caleb, Sarah and Grace.”

He raised an
eyebrow, but said nothing.

I paused,
thinking I might need a bullet proof vest and remembered a better
devise for protection. “Just need to grab something from the
car.”

I ran to get
the antique book, letting the fresh air cool my flushed face. It
was my only chance to convince Caleb I was worthy of being with
Michael. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed
into house.

Caleb tapped
his thumb impatiently against his other hand. A scowl etched his
face as he sat behind a newly replaced, antique desk. “What’s so
important you had to come back to
my
house?”

Settling by the
fireplace, I tried to remember to breathe. He was intimidating as a
person, but freakin’ scary as some kind of immortal killing
machine.
They must know Damon’s a Grollic. How could they
not?
I swallowed, not as sure of myself as I had been moments
earlier. “H-Have you been able to find anything out about
D-Damon?”

“Very little
actually,” Sarah answered. “It’s as if he is nothing, but we know
there’s something. He’s seventeen, born here, lives here but
nothing to raise concern to us.”

Grace stood by
the door frame. She had nodded when she had come into the living
room but had avoided making eye contact with me. Now she stepped
forward, uncrossing her arms. “There’s no proof on anything. He’s
just…Damon.”

Show
them.
A voice inside of me spoke, strong and determined. I set
the old, leather journal in front of Caleb, my eyes defiantly
meeting his. Where’d this new courage come from?

He picked it
up, frowned at the cover and then flipped it open. I cleared my
throat. “Damon’s a Grollic. It was him at the beach. He has the
beasts tattoo below his right collar bone.” I turned to Grace.
“That day in the courtyard, I saw it. Didn’t realize till this
morning what is was. I read through the book last night, and then
remembered it this morning.”

“What mark?
They’ve no tattoo to label them.” Caleb slammed the journal on top
of the desk with a resounding slap. “Where’d you get this?”

His accusation
really said was,
Where’d you steal this?
“It’s from the
bookstore where I work. My boss gave it to me.” I tried to swallow,
my mouth suddenly dry.

He traced the
cover and bindings. “This book appears written over hundreds of
years ago. The writing’s in some ancient language.” He flipped
though the pages. “I’ve never seen or heard of this. The Coven
doesn’t know.”

Lucky me. “Most
of it’s foreign,” I mumbled, playing with the Siorghra around my
neck. “I read through the part I could understand. Where it shows
the anatomy of the Grollic, it talks about how he transforms, even
some theories on ways to kill him. The book’s old, but you might be
able to use something. There’s a story about a girl in a white
cape. I think she was an angel.”

Caleb gasped
and stared at me, his eyes blue and pupils tiny. Sarah and Michael
raced behind him and hovered over his shoulder. Caleb gave his head
a slight shake and focused back on the book. He held it at arm’s
length, probably so Michael and Sarah could read it.

Grace ran over
and looked ready to hug me but held back. “You’ve no idea how much
I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Me, too.”
So why didn’t you come by?
I paused, mad at my next thought.
Why didn’t I try to text or email or come here sooner?

“Oh Grace. Put
those trivial female feelings aside. Now is not the time. Rouge
should have shown us this book the moment she had it.” Caleb turned
me. “How long have you had it?” He shook his head. “Never mind.
What I want to know is when did you learn the language?”

What? A heavy
feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. “I didn’t. I can only
read the English part.” Did I need to show them? The book wasn’t
that big. Surely they could find the section.

Michael stared
at me, his mouth slightly open. “None of the book’s in
English.”

Supernatural
immortals and they can’t tell the difference between English and
foreign? “The middle part is. It’s like the Little Red Riding Hood
Nursery. The part with the diagrams and drawings is where I
connected the dots. That’s where I found Damon’s tattoo or mark or
whatever you want to call it.”

“I do not
understand,” Caleb spoke slowly. “Show me the part you can
read.”

This was
ridiculous. Here I stood trying to help them and they are talking
to me like I’m the idiot? Jaw clenched, I stomped over to the desk
and grabbed the book. Searching through the pages, I found what I
needed and tapped the title. “See, here. The History of the War.
It’s just like the fairytale, except Riding Hood’s actually some
kind of angel or something – she’s got wings – and the Grollic’s
actually an ugly beast.” I watched the three of them standing
around the desk. Sarah had her hand against her chest, Caleb’s lips
pressed into a thin line, and Michael kept looking at me, then the
book and back again.

“Rouge,” he
spoke slowly, “it’s not English.”

“What?” I shook
my head, glancing toward the ceiling. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not
kidding.” His face stayed serious, not a glimmer of teasing in his
eyes or a twitch around his lips like he was trying to hold
laughter in.