The Mark of Cain (5 page)

The more he learned who she really was in her own
words, the more he felt an idea cementing itself in his mind. If he killed her
now, then she would die untainted; God’s perfect daughter. But, if he
tainted
her first, then he would get the ultimate victory in his personal war with God.
To ruin His daughter would be far better than anything he had ever achieved
before. And he wouldn’t just taint her, he would
own
her. He didn’t even
need ammo other than what God had given him. He was the perfect package to take
advantage of naïve little Anahara, who was so innocent she wouldn’t even be
able to imagine that he was being less than sincere. And then, once he had her,
only then would she die. With her no longer a martyr, Inac would finally win
the ultimate battle. He would only need to first open her eyes….

***

Hara walked into her apartment to the feeling that
someone was there.

“Hello? Crystal?” she called, the fine hairs at the
nape of her neck lifting as though they had been electrified. Her roommate had
gone out of town for a few days with her boyfriend, so she didn’t see how it
could be her.

Only deathly silence answered her call.

She let out her breath, chuckling at herself for
being so ridiculous. Nobody was here.

Walking down the short hall to her room, she hung
her lavender backpack up on its peg and set her cute little violet laptop on
her desk before turning her attention to her closet. Today she had worn a
knee-length jeans skirt and a cream tank top to school. They were okay for
school, but not really appropriate for her date tonight. She only had to sift
through her things for a few moments before she picked out a nice blouse and skirt
combination. She wasn’t attracted to Eric—a boy she knew from school—but she
gave every guy a chance. And part of giving a guy a chance was that she would
put in an effort to look as presentable as possible.

It was as she was stepping into her blush pink,
ruffled knee-length prairie skirt that she realized that her room had been
disturbed. Everything looked in its place, but she just had the
feeling
that someone had been in here rummaging through her things. Maybe it was that
her room smelled different. It had a faint masculine musk to it that didn’t
belong….

“Hello?” she called again as she walked into the
hall, quickly buttoning up her cap-sleeved white eyelet blouse in case someone
was
watching her. She didn’t want someone to see her partially naked.
That
was supposed to wait for marriage.

Again, nothing stirred. What was with her lately?
First she’d thought that her teacher was warning her with his eyes, then she’d
thought that she’d seen Mr. Adamson in her class, and
now
she thought
someone was in her apartment going through her things? She must be going crazy.
It’s not like she knew whether it ran in her family or not.

Satisfied that she was just paranoid after she’d
peeked into Crystal’s disgustingly filthy room, she made her way down to the
bathroom to finish getting ready—she must just be imagining the smell because
her mind had been on Mr. Adamson so much lately. She didn’t know what he
smelled like because the club was full of scents she didn’t
want
to
smell, but maybe it was another trick her mind was playing on her—lately, it
certainly had been doing that plenty.

After brushing her teeth, Hara pulled open her
makeup drawer. She didn’t wear much makeup outside of work—basically only for
dates, which she still didn’t wear much for. Today she threw some charcoal
eyeliner around her wisteria-colored eyes, mascara on her already long, thick
black lashes, and a rose lip stain. She had perfect, dewy ivory skin with a
natural flush so she didn’t need anything else. Now just for her hair….

Sometimes her hair drove her insane. It was
long—skimming her hips—and thick, its natural waves so perfect that people
continually asked her to cut it to sell to them so they could use it for a
weave. She wouldn’t ever do that but, days like today where it just drove her
bonkers by getting in the way, she pondered donating it for cancer patients.

Not having the patience to deal with it, she left it
down to do whatever it pleased rather than attempt to tame it. Now finished,
she ran to put on some shoes. She was taller than Eric by several inches, so
she threw on some black ballet flats. She didn’t put on any jewelry; she didn’t
have her ears pierced and never wore anything other than the cross necklace
Father Carroll had given her when she’d left the orphanage.

“Now remember, Hara,” he’d said that warm spring
day, “people out there are not always honest and true. The world has its way of
getting its claws into you until you’re a part of her. Don’t ever forget where
you came from as well as God’s love for you and you’ll be all right. Anytime
you feel the Beast working his charms on you, just hold tight to this and
recite your prayers and he’ll be forced to leave. He won’t live where God’s
presence is felt.”

And since that day four years ago, she had never
taken the necklace off. It was exquisite. A sterling silver cross with a gold
image of Christ nailed to a smaller gold cross superimposed over it.

She brought it to her lips, giving it a tender kiss.
Growing up in a Catholic-run orphanage had taught her to believe Father Carroll
when he’d told her that it would protect her. After all, hadn’t she been
protected thus far? She
had
been the only one to survive the fire….

The priests and nuns at the orphanage had always
told her that she’d survived for a purpose. And they’d also treated her
differently than they had the other kids. They were always very protective;
acting like something evil was out to get her.

She was glad that, although she visited them as
often as she could, they couldn’t see her now. If they found out exactly how
“of the world” the club they knew she worked at was, then they would say that
she was tempting the Beast to take her. But she knew better. She may wear a
skintight and low-cut spaghetti-strap mini-dress that showed off her long legs
and plenty of cleavage as her uniform—as well as dark eye makeup and crimson
lips—but she still wasn’t of the world. She was still the religious little girl
who had been taught to fear God’s “punishment and wrath.”

She didn’t feel that way, though. She felt like He
would be like any other father. That He would have unconditional love. Yes,
that He would get angry at times, but that He would always forgive. That He
would do anything to protect His children. But maybe those were just the
fantastical dreams of a fatherless orphan….

The doorbell buzzed just then, an ancient reminder
of just how long ago this building had been erected. Because it surprised her,
she looked at the clock. Eric shouldn’t be here yet…not for at least another
fifteen minutes. At least she was ready. She refused to ever make someone wait
for her.

A genuine smile on her face, she opened the door.
But it wasn’t Eric.

“Tracker! What are you doing here?” She wasn’t
angry—it was difficult to get her so—just surprised.

“I thought I’d come meet this guy,” he said, his
normally sweet, boyish face hard as though he was preparing himself to go into
battle.

Annoyance shot through her for a split second. She
didn’t need him to protect her; especially from
Eric
. Eric was quiet and
shy. There was no way he would ever hurt her.

“You’ve
already
met him.” He was in the same
study group as the two of them.

“But not as a prospective boyfriend.”

“Track…. Come on,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve known me for how long?”

He sighed as he walked in and closed the door behind
him, ruffling up his spiky hair.

“Forever.” They’d grown up together after he’d moved
to the orphanage when he was thirteen.

“And how many boyfriends have I had?”

“None.”

“So what makes you think that Eric will be any
different? I haven’t even kissed a guy on the lips. And, although Eric’s a nice
guy, I’m not attracted to him.” Eric was short and probably weighed less than
she did soaking wet. And it’s not like she weighed much with her willowy body.
She was tall and thin with a long, guitar-shaped torso that forced her to layer
her clothing so that her abdomen didn’t show, as well as womanly breasts and
hips; a strange combination. It gave her the look of a lingerie model—Crystal
had plenty of magazines hanging around that sold the skimpy attire—which was
why she made such good tips at the club.

“Then why even let him think he has a chance?”

Looking straight into his eyes level with hers, and
placing one hand on her cocked hip, she said, “Because he’s sweet. I couldn’t
say no when he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out. You know he’s
been trying to get the guts for months now.”

“Of course you could’ve said no! If
I
asked
you out, you’d say no.”

“No I wouldn’t! I love you to death!”

“Yeah, like a brother…” he grumbled, looking down at
his trashy white tennis shoes that were more brown and green than white.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked him, trying
to cheer him up despite the fact that he was being ridiculous. “Boyfriends come
and go, but you’ll always be a part of my life.” The way he was acting was
making her wonder if he had a crush on her.

Just thinking that embarrassed her. She shouldn’t be
so vain. He was just being nice and she was reading too much into it. Mentally
checking herself, she said, “Well, whatever the case, Eric will be here any
minute.”

“I know. I just want to make sure he’s gonna treat
you right.”

She felt
silly
for thinking he liked her. He
was obviously just being a good “brother.”

The doorbell buzzed again.

“Now, be nice,” she said, narrowing her eyes in a
warning to Track.

His hands up in surrender, he said, “I will, I
will.”

“Hi Eric!” she exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Hey,” he said as he played with his dark hair,
which was outrageously slicked back for the occasion. His face falling when he
saw the head hovering beside her, he said, “Oh hey, Tracker….”

“Mm-hmm,” Track said, lifting his chin.

She didn’t understand Track sometimes. Sometimes he
could just get so protective and mistrustful; like he was being right now.

Noticing that Eric was in a nice shirt and
slacks—dressed up much more than she was—she asked, “Is my outfit okay for
whatever it is we’re doing?”

“Yeah, what
are
you two doing?” Tracker
interrupted, putting his body between her and Eric.

“I got reservations at Herod’s,” Eric said, puffing
his toothpick-like chest importantly.

“Wow! How’d you manage that?” she asked, impressed. Herod’s
was the hottest new restaurant in town and was
impossible
to get into
unless you were rich and famous.

He shrugged. “I have my connections.”

“You?” Tracker snorted. Now he was just being rude.

Hara elbowed him lightly in the ribs as she gave
Eric a bright smile. “I think that’s wonderful. I better go change into
something nicer. It will take five minutes. Do we have time?”

“Of course,” Eric said, gesturing for her to go
ahead.

She quickly made her way to her bedroom, where she
threw on a white Grecian-style dress. It was a halter connected to a large
silver ring that wrapped around her neck. It then flowed to the ground, only
held back by the cinched empire waist. It had a back to it, but that didn’t
begin until under her shoulder blades, where the cinching in the front
originated. She’d been trying to find an occasion to wear this dress for over a
month now.

After donning silver flats, she threw her hair into
a haphazard bun secured with two silver sticks, tendrils loose everywhere.
Perfect. Now she liked her hair again.

As promised, she made it back to the boys in time.

“Shall we go?” she asked Eric because he just kept
gaping at her in awe.

“Um…yeah…sure….” With that, he took her bare arm
that was slightly thinner and much longer than his, and they left both her
apartment and paranoia behind.

***

Inac let out a sigh of relief; they were finally
leaving. It wasn’t that he was afraid of them finding him. More that he didn’t
want to have to kill them just yet. He really wanted to corrupt the pristine
little Hara first.

He waited in the roommate’s closet for a few more
minutes in case they came back—it was plenty spacious because everything was
spread around her bedroom instead of occupying its racks. He really hadn’t
planned on still being here when Hara got home, but he’d lost track of time.
For some reason, learning all about her was fascinating. Of course, he liked
learning about people before he got rid of them.

He had been so engrossed in her crush on him that he
hadn’t realized the time. It wasn’t until he’d heard the key turning in the
lock that he’d realized how long he had been there. He had then run to the
roommate’s bedroom door, barely closing it behind him before Hara entered the
apartment, calling for her roommate—she obviously had good instincts because
he’d been silent as he’d dodged the minefield of objects covering the floor on
his way to the closet as Hara walked toward the very room he was in. Again, he
had barely closed the closet door as she’d opened the bedroom one.