The Mark of Cain (52 page)

Nowadays, people saw his lack of body
hair and believed that he must wax—something so normal with the womanly men of
today—but he’d never needed to. Sometimes he had pondered why he hadn’t had
thick body hair to act like a fur in the cold nights he’d wandered alone. At
least the hair grew thick on his face and head, not allowing heat to leave
through one of the most vulnerable parts of his body.

A part of him thought that maybe being
hairless was God’s way of making sure that his Mark wasn’t hidden by a pelt of
hair as thick as the jungles he’d traveled through back when they’d ruled over
men. Like maybe God knew when He made Cain that he would one day be Marked, and
had made him accordingly. It was ironic, really, seeing as how back in the
burning times, the body hair had been shaved off “witches” before execution
because the people believed it was the devil’s protection.

Also, when his Mark had first appeared, he hadn’t
understood why it was on his entire right side except where it ended near his
hip or face. But, over the years, he’d figured it out. Any of the muscles that
were a large part of his right arm’s movement were Marked. The Marks didn’t
consist of any language known to the devil as he’d first thought, but they were
spiraled like the serpent as they moved with the curves of his perfect muscles,
the perfection that God wanted hidden to show that he was no longer His
instrument.

Now looking up at his aloof mother, the emotions
this painting evoked causing his eyes to burn in both hatred and sadness, Inac
realized that he needed comfort right now. He needed Hara. Turning toward her
room, he could almost sense the light she would infuse him with. She wouldn’t
know what she was comforting him from, but that was the good thing about Hara.
No matter what, she would always let him hold her until he felt better. Always.

***

“Cain?” Hara stated, trying to keep Tracker from
realizing that she thought he’d just taken a walk off the deep end. Talk of
someone wanting her dead had made her question his sanity, but
this
…he
was
completely
non-linear.

“Yes, Hara, Cain. As in Cain and Abel Cain.”

“Okay….”

“Stop looking at me like I’m crazy!” he cried,
ruffling his blonde spikes as though he was getting frustrated.

“I’m sorry. But how do you expect me to look? You’re
telling me that I’m engaged to the most infamous murderer in history!”

“It’s true! Come on, Hara. Look at it. Inac?
Rearrange the letters and you get Cain. Then Adamson?” He didn’t need to say
it. Cain, Adam’s son. That’s what it meant. But still….

“Inac’s a good man, though,” she supplied. “I don’t
sense evil in him. Wouldn’t I sense that?”

“Maybe. Let’s face it, though, you’re too trusting.”
She was about to say something but he made a quieting gesture. “However, I
don’t think he’s evil.”

“But
Cain
is evil,” she said as though that
much was obvious.

“Cain is, yes. But Inac?”

Having no clue where Tracker was going with this,
she said, “I don’t get it.”

“I think Inac is getting a conscience. I think he
loves you.”

Before he could go on, she snapped out a brisk, “I
don’t want to talk about that because I still don’t know if I believe you.”

“What questions do you have that you want me to
answer?” he said, standing tall in a way that almost had her questioning
whether it was really Tracker before her. “Ask me anything that will make you
believe.”

“I just think it’s a coincidence,” she said quickly.
“His parents named him. The Mokolios hated God. Who’s to say that they didn’t
just make his name the letters of Cain on purpose?”

Tracker was definitely frustrated now as he groaned
and raked his fingers through his hair. “He knows all about the Mokolio leaders
because he’s
been
all of them,” he said in a voice dripping with the same
annoyance she felt with this subject.

“And
that’s
supposed to convince me? Telling
me that Inac was really Vlad the Impaler and Attila the Hun? You’re nuts.” She
turned away from him, but he grabbed her by both her shoulders and physically
turned her back around.

“How else could he know every detail of the
Mokolios’ history?”

“They’re called
records
, Tracker. You know?
Like a secretary writes down everything that happens?”

“Not that much. Secret societies aren’t gonna write
down things they don’t want other people to find out.”

“Okay,” she said, folding her arms and tapping her
foot in annoyance. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth, why would Inac want me
dead? And why wouldn’t he have done it by now?”

Tracker looked at the floor, whispering as though
reciting, “There’s a great work for you on this Earth; a prophecy from five
hundred years ago that goes against what he’s been working at.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. But only for a moment.
Feeling suddenly sad herself, she cupped a hand around Tracker’s cherubic
cheek.

“You really need to get help,” she said quietly in
what she hoped was a soothing voice.

“Don’t patronize me!” he shouted, flinging her hand
away.

Before she could say anything further, the door
opened and Inac walked in, a worried look on his face. “Is everything okay?” he
asked, looking them both over.

“Fine,” she said, blushing, trying to look in his
eyes though her body kept trying to make her look away. She was embarrassed for
even having entertained the idea for a millisecond.

“No!” Tracker shouted as he stalked toward Inac.
“The Order’s coming to take Hara where you won’t ever find her, but she won’t
believe me!”

Hara forgot her shame so she could watch Inac’s
expression. But, like always, it only gave away a moment of surprise. A moment
of surprise followed, not by disbelief like she’d expected, but
acceptance
.

“I figured They would after the state you found us
in when you walked in on us today,” he said, nodding.

The world seemed to fall out from under her feet.
She was reeling, barely aware of strong arms catching her. She hadn’t thought
that her entire world view could be shattered with only a few simple words.

“It’s not true. Tell me it’s not true,” she mumbled
over and over again into Inac’s arms; she knew they belonged to him because his
scent flowed in with her heaving breaths, relaxing her along with the
comforting whispers he was saying into her ear.

“Shh. I won’t let Them take you,” he was saying. “I
won’t let Them
near
you.”

She pulled away to gaze up at him, tears she hadn’t
realized she’d been crying pouring down her face.

“Inac?”

“What, babe?” he asked with a gentle smile that told
her how much it just couldn’t be true….

“Did you really murder my family?”

His brow furrowed for an instant in sadness.
However, he didn’t seem to feel any shame or guilt.

After a few moments, hard jaw set, he said, “Not
personally.”

She hadn’t expected him to confess, so the fact that
he did angered her.

“You’re telling me the truth
now
?!” she cried
as she pulled away from him.

“Well, apparently you’re going to find out from The
Order. You may as well find out from me so you can get
my
side of the
story,” he said with an edge to his voice that told her that he felt like
he
was the victim here.

“I’m not interested in
your
side,
Cain
,”
she spat, smacking away the hand he was moving toward her face; probably an
attempt to calm her.

Now his surprise showed all over and he rounded on
Tracker. “You
told
her?!”

She hadn’t really believed it until now. He really
was Cain. No wonder the entire staff was so scared of him….

“Oh my gosh. Am I the only one who
didn’t
know?” she finally asked as she looked between her men. She felt dizzy in her
peripheral, like she might pass out if any more secrets found light today.

“The Order runs this place,” Inac—no,
Cain
—answered.
“Probably because you’re here. They brought you here to protect you after I had
your family killed. They let me think that you were the little girl who died.
Hadn’t you ever wondered why an orphan girl from California would be shipped
all the way out to New Hampshire?”

Everything in her life was fitting into a new
puzzle. It couldn’t have come together, though, without these new pieces. Inac
was Cain and had always been in charge of the Mokolios. He had killed her
family to get rid of her because the prophecy he’d told her about that the
Mokolios were trying to prevent somehow had to do with her. Father Carroll had
been protecting her. And
she
had been the bug attracted to the pretty
light in the zapper….

“So are you going to kill
me
now?” she
accused, the dizziness gone as her emotions ran cold. “You may as well. You’ve
taken everything else from me.” She couldn’t believe she’d
slept
with
him.

“Hara,” he said as he reached toward her again,
sounding as sad as he looked.

“No, Inac. You’ve been
pretending
to care.
Well now I know the truth and…and this is what I think about that,” she said,
pulling off the engagement ring and throwing it at his face.

“Ow! Hara! What was
that
for? That really
hurt!” he cried as he covered the eye it had hit.

She hadn’t meant to hit him in the eye so she felt a
moment of guilt at his pain. But then she remembered that he was responsible
for her family’s deaths.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she hissed. With a step forward
with each reason, she yelled, “Maybe for you planning to murder me! Maybe for
murdering my family! Maybe for pretending to love me so you could sleep with
me!”

“It was business!” he cried, backing up with each
step forward she made, as if that made it okay, his hands in a placating
manner.

“Business?
Business
?!” she shrieked. “Is that
what we were? I was your personal whore?!” She started hitting him then, over
and over again on his chest until he firmly grabbed her wrists. A part of her
noticed that, although he was holding her firmly, it was also gently. Like he
didn’t want to hurt her.

A voice in her mind said, “See? He loves you.”

To squash it, she started kicking at him instead,
relishing each blessed connection she made with his shins.

“Ow! Hara, stop!” And when she wouldn’t, “Will you
help me, Tracker?! She’s going to hurt herself!”

More hands joined the fray.

“I don’t care if I hurt myself as long as I hurt
you
!”
she screamed. “I hate you!
I hate you
!”

“That’s fine. You can hate me. Just don’t hurt
yourself.”

The hands held her still until she was standing,
facing Inac. Without even knowing what she was doing, she hocked a logie into
his eye, proud at her aim since she’d never spit on someone before—Tracker had
attempted to teach her numerous times, taking her on the grass at the orphanage
and showing her his tricks. Apparently she’d learned better than either of them
had thought she had.

“Hara, please stop,” Inac begged as he wiped his eye
on his shoulder without letting go of her wrists—Tracker had her body. “It
wasn’t personal.”

“I was just a pawn in your war?” She hadn’t realized
that she could hate someone so much. It was probably because she felt so
betrayed. She had loved this man with every ounce of her being, and he had been
pretending the entire time.

He nodded, a sympathy and shame in his eyes that
she’d never seen before. “In all fairness, this was all planned hundreds of
years ago. Before I even met you.”

That made Hara break down all over again. She didn’t
know why, but maybe it was because that was the closest thing to an apology she
would ever get from Cain.

She found herself in his arms. Even though they
belonged to the man who had caused her so much pain, they were also the only
place she felt completely home. She belonged in them. If only he hadn’t ruined
everything…. If only he really could be the person he’d pretended to be. The
one softly rubbing her back like he actually cared….

She pulled her face away from his chest, rubbing at
the tears on her face with the back of her hand. “You can stop acting now.”

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a knock
sounded on the door.

“Hara?” Father Carroll’s voice called.

“Come in,” she said. “You might as well.”

He came in, followed by a couple of burly men
dressed in all black with…were those
guns
tucked into their pants?

They stopped short upon sight of Inac, his arms
around her still. They looked him up and down, their hands tightening and
moving fractionally toward their guns. She herself was frozen between them all,
scared of where this was going.