The Marked

My head dropped—my forehead collided with the tabletop.

"Chloe?"

Argh, I thought pissy, go mind your own business Heather. I couldn't just go off on her ass because that would be seriously not Chloe-ish.

"Yeah?" I mumbled.

"You look like…"

"Shit?" I didn't need to read her mind to know that's what she wanted to say. "I didn't sleep well last night. Insomnias."

"Oh. I get those sometimes. Drinking warm milk works for me."

"Thanks for the tip." With that, I shifted my head to rest on my arms and ignored Spanish class.

Between my nightmare, the fact that someone had been outside my balcony while I slept and the note, I hadn't gotten any more sleep. Not even now as sleep crept in—my eyes would burst open because I would either see: Wade's headless body or the man with the piercing eyes bringing his mouth down on... My fingers brushed the spot lightly. My teeth clenched in repulse. Because I'd dreamed of another guy touching my naked body or for some other reason? I didn't know. And: Soon? Who the hell left that? The girl with the vanishing act? The man in the black suit? Didn't know that either. But worst of all? That nightmare had felt nothing like the 'trials' my tattoo had been putting me through. It hadn't felt like your average, random night terror. It felt like... Like there was another presence inside my head. Like when I heard voices, I felt them pushing inside my skull. But this presence had been more prominent.

"Te estoy aborriendo, Chloe?"

I heard my name. That was all. I lifted my head after who knows how long.

"What?"

My Spanish teacher's expression slipped from—I was going to say anger—to worry. I hadn't eaten anything because I felt like throwing up. It possibly showed on my face. I tried to cover up with make-up but maybe it rubbed off.

"You look pale. Are you sick? Do you want to go to the nurse's office?" Nope, because the nurse couldn't fix me.

"No, thank you. I just didn't sleep very well." I didn't give a shit about the turning heads, the inquisitive eyes. I didn't care about the:

She looks about to puke... Oh my God. Maybe she's prego!

...death warmed over...

...so doable...

I need a smoke.

That girl—whoever she was—needed a smoke and I needed to see Wade. It was like an all-consuming need, like he was a nicotine fix. I waited for the next twenty minutes to crawl by. I didn't take notes, I tried to understand the language but pretty much fell asleep with my eyes open. When the bell rang I was the first one to move. I grabbed my bag and stormed out before my teacher finished stating something about homework or paper, whatever. I raced down the halls, dodging people who spilled outside classrooms. I turned a corner and... a breath escaped me.

I ran up to Wade who barely had time to stumble outside his classroom. I threw my arms around his neck, holding us close. I think he only saw it was me three seconds into the hug. People were staring again. We were blocking the way. Wade didn't try moving us or pulling me off him, not concerned about the PDA display. Like always. I lifted my head and kissed him. With everyone complaining, having to go around us, I kept kissing him. Wade's arms secured my midsection and I felt the tattoo shift as light pressure from one of his arms brushed it. Wade tilted our heads, deepening the kiss.

Finally gaining awareness, I slipped my arms down and grabbed his arms, looking up at my breathing boyfriend.

"What was that for?"

The words were there. Close to tipping off as my mouth parted. But I pushed them back—not sure why.

"I had a crappy night and seeing you..." Alive. Breathing. With your head on your shoulders. "Seeing you makes it all go away."

Wade pulled me off to the side when his French teacher—I think—gave us a side-long glare condemning us to hell.

"I feel like I should take that as a compliment?"

I laughed—maybe a little shrilly, "You should." Wade grinned boyishly.

"What do you mean by crappy night?"

"Insomnia," I lied, steadfast. "Don't start worrying."

Wade lifted his hand in a placating gesture. I felt his eyes on my face from time to time as we walked to Calc, probably taking stock of my paleness and dark circles under my eyes. Wade made no comment. Outside our classroom he kissed my temple before leading me inside by the hand. I took a seat beside Lana. She had earbuds on and was sketching, only taking notice of me when I poked her arm. I pointed to the front of the class and a sigh wrenched from her chest. Our teacher had arrived. I was still tired as hell, but for the remainder of the day I felt ten times lighter—Wade was alright.

***

Wednesday (night): no heinous nightmare to report; I felt an urge to roam outside but nothing too hard to control; no one spied outside my window.

Friday (day): classes ran smoothly; went out with Wade after practice to see a movie.

Friday (night): talked to Jenna on the phone; watched Big Bang Theory eps with mom; no dreams.

I finished flipping through my new... diary? I preferred journal. I started one after Jenna gave me a notebook from her extensive collection—Wednesday, the day I kissed Wade shamelessly and looked like a zombie—telling me I should keep track of my life. What she meant was that I should keep track of anything out of the ordinary, see if we could catch a pattern. And she thought it was therapeutic to write these things down. I glared at the short sentences. Yeah, I was sure she meant I should go deeper. But I wasn't very good with words.

I flipped the page and stared down at the word: Saturday. Tonight, was Monica's presumable awesome senior party. Since nothing too out of the norm, for what had become my normal, had happened these last two days, I was feeling giddier. Mom was home tonight and Wade was minutes away from ringing my doorbell. I glanced at the door—it was shut. I got up and opened my closet, dragging out a shoe box with flipflops. I stashed the red journal inside. I was feeling paranoid lately. The ringing came from downstairs just as I shut my closet doors. I didn't bother with running down to open the door, I knew mom was anxiously waiting in the living room for this opportunity. I heard the semi-loud 'Wade!' probably followed by a 'so long without seeing you', I shook my head feeling helpless. Mom adored Wade in a way... How could I put it? If Wade had a fan club, mom would be the president. She loved how well-mannered Wade was, she loved how he waited for me to get inside the house after he dropped me off, she loved how he balanced sports and AP classes, she loved how he was always in a good mood... The list was long. Mostly she loved him because he made me happy.

I grabbed a small purse, dangled it off my shoulder and down I went. Wade and mom were chatting in the kitchen like chummy buddies.

"Stop being charming," I told him waltzing in. "Otherwise, she'll keep us here forever."

"I wasn't aware you could turn off charm?" I faked a couple of laughs, still smiling at Wade.

Mom's pixie hair was wet. She must've taken a shower earlier when I was getting ready. Hence why mom hadn't bounced around my bedroom asking what I would be wearing. Her eyes wandered quickly over my attire: ankle boots, skinny jeans, dark top (tucked into said jeans) and a caramel leather jacket. My hair was down, my lips were glossy and I'd applied black eyeliner.

"Where's this party at...?" Mom asked practically eyeballing the top. It was pretty slim.

"At a girl's house."

"A girl?"

"Monica, mom. I told you already: you don't know her."

"Hmm," her attention shifted to Wade. "No drinking, no drugs—of any kind—no..."

I was about to whine the typical 'mom...' when Wade beat me to it.

"Don't worry, Penelope. I don't drink or engage in... recreational drugs?" I gawked at him. Not at the use of mom's name, that was normal, she'd insisted on it. But the bluntness with which he stated these things... It awed anyone. "I need all my brain cells to finish AP biology." He laughed it off.

Mom looked like she didn't know how to proceed next. So, she made a mom-move waving her hand with a flourish as if saying 'alright then, scurry off before I change my mind' and said a couple more words under a breath about us having a good time. When we were outside in the cool air, I practically skipped away to Wade's car. His chuckling chased me.

"Slow down before you slip and break your neck. Your mom would throw a scalpel at my head—for sure." Wade clicked the car open. I tugged the Opel door and jumped in faster than he could say 'Bloody Mary'.

Wade followed in seconds later.

"I doubt that. I think she secretly adopted you." I reached for the seatbelt. "You look nice, by the way." I hadn't given myself room to check him out before. Wade was wearing a white shirt (untucked, of course) and dark faded jeans. That was all. His face was freshly shaven. I pouted. "Where did it go?" I ran my fingertips across the smooth chin and cheeks sadly.

He laughed richly making me dissolve like slow, melting sugar.

"Down the drain, sweetheart. It was starting to itch."

"That's crazy."

"You're crazy," he said driving us off. "I keep forgetting you think I look all baby-faced without a beard." I never told him to grow a beard… Just to keep a midnight shadow. It was hot and yes, Wade without it looked a year or two younger. Although looking at the rest of him, one would guess his age was around nineteen or twenty and they would be wrong. "I hope you know where Monica's house is or we'll be driving in circles all night."

"Cool your jets. Go down this street and turn left at those traffic lights." I pointed far, waving my fingers for emphasis.

"Got it." He snuck me a glance. "You look smoking hot—and I can say that without sounding like a dickhead, because I'm your boyfriend and will be enjoying said dickheads looking at me with jealousy all night."

I was blushing. I turned my face away from his gaze, leaning on the window.

"How do you get away with saying things like that? Even back there with my mom…"

"Baby, I was born this way."

"Oh, Christ."

"Nah, just Wade is fine." I rounded on him with a glare, pretending to be upset by his cockiness and humor. "Keep those directions coming, Chlo." He warned suddenly paying total attention to the road. And so our ride shifted from humorous to GPS talk from me. A little down the line, I told Wade who Monica was, since he still didn't have a clue. She was a cheerleader. No, she wasn't the bitchy kind who turned her nose down at everyone. She wasn't blond—she was a brunette and she was in a lot of AP classes, maybe more than Caleb.

He snorted, "So much for stereotypes."

"Says the jock with the perfect GPA."

"It's not perfect." He argued without bite.

"It's darn close to Caleb's."

"Caleb is naturally smart."

"Ah, so that makes you a geek." He spied me a look. "What? I'm just saying you must study a lot." I added innocently.

"Which means I don't have natural smarts like Caleb? Are you calling me dumb?"

I dropped my head into the headrest with a defeated sigh.

"There's no winning with you, Withmore." I blinked at the row of cars parked in front of ours. The tailgate lights shinning in the dark of night. I felt myself being watched—by the person next to me. I turned towards him, blinking at the warm silence in his green eyes. His gaze didn't drop for a beat, staring intently into mine. I took a deep breath and masked my sudden racing heart. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Wade's eyes flickered to the dashboard. A smile threatening to show. He shook out his hair before bending, angling his body closer to my seat, his right hand reaching between us. It slipped behind me, framing my neck and hair. Wade drew me in.

"Because you're wrong," he whispered—almost breathless. Like he'd been deprived of oxygen for hours. "You always win with me." Wade's mouth was warm on mine, gliding along my lips with ease because of the lip gloss. His teeth nibbled on my lower lip, sucking it slowly. I made a soft sound—tipping closer to him. I was about to reach for his shoulders when he released my lip, leaving me wanting more. Wade kept his hand on my nape, "You're the one person I don't mind losing to, Chloe."

Dumbstruck, I asked softly, "Why?"

Wade's eyes were incandescent green.

"Because as long as we're together? I still win—even when I don't."

Our perfect sheltered world shattered with infernal honking. More than one car was telling someone, that wasn't us, to move. Wade returned to his post anyway, ready to move at any time. I stared for the longest time and I felt a puzzle piece fit somewhere in my chest.

***

Monica's house was… big. Cars were packed along the street. I could hear muffled music as we walked up her street. Wade found a place to park twenty minutes away. The mansion—it could be called a mansion—had iron gates, sculptured pillars of some expensive stone and in front of the gates was a patch of neatly trimmed grass with a bed of flowers. The house was two floors high, just from the front I counted ten windows. We sauntered toward one of the gates, following other seniors—at least I assumed this was an-all-senior party—and waited to be let in by a burly looking guy in a suit. Lana told me Monica hired security to watch the doors, but being told and seeing it for real were different things.

"This chick is loaded." Wade whistled. "Do you think her parents know she's about to party in their million-dollar home?"

"I have no idea." I was checking my phone for any texts. "Caleb's already inside."

Wade made an impressed noise as we walked through the gate. Music grew louder as walked to the dark wood door. We went inside with the push of the door. The floor was polished wood, you could see your reflection, and the walls were white. A stairway with an iron wrought railing disappeared into the second floor. There were actual Greek columns as support beams. Paintings with golden frames, an elegant loveseat was below one…

Wade pulled me along before I started exploring the rest of the house. Most of the house was empty, the sounds of people and music came from somewhere beyond the hall we walked into. We found our way into a spotless and priceless looking kitchen. We crossed it, reaching a small, comfortable room that led into the… I was speechless. We walked outside through the French doors. This wasn't a backyard—it was a garden. It was gorgeous. Two set of stairs led down to the… courtyard? Yeah, I was going with that. I couldn't begin to describe everything. There were flower beds with a detailed cropped shrubbery, neatly rounded trees. A fountain with a dancer in its middle, water sprayed all around the statue and the water was illuminated. Once we were down in the courtyard I spotted oval arches leading into an underground level. The back of the house was shrouded in yellow light with several lit lamps across the walls. And beyond the courtyard were small flights of stairs leading into a pool area.

"Lana might be right," I murmured. "This might be the biggest party of the year."

"Yeah, it might. Did Caleb say where he was?" Wade didn't sound or look as impressed as me.

I shrugged. But how hard could it be to find a fiery haired guy? The music was blaring by the fountain and drinks were being kept in coolers by the pool. Oh, there were people inside the pool. Girls and guys. A couple of guys came up to us—Josh and the guy who thought my ass was great were among them. They practically tore Wade away saying something about a beer pong game. Wade shoved one of them back, laughing. Miracle or not, Caleb chose that minute to sneak up on me. I heard him coming—through his thoughts. The stupid interference was kicking in. Great.

I whirled before Caleb could scream boo in my ear. Instead, he was the one who jumped back with a yelp. A satisfied smirk crossed my face.

"How the hell…" he started loudly but his last words faded under the music. I pointed at my ear, signaling I hadn't heard him. Caleb stood inches from me and repeated himself, "How the hell did you know, Chlo?"

"It's a sixth sense that flares up in the presence of asses." I threw back, ready to punch his arm playfully—when I thought better. What if my strength ended up slipping—just like my mind-reading ability was doing? I could pulverize Caleb's shoulder.

"Where's your plus-one?"

"Sadly, he was carried off to the land of booze."

Caleb right eye closed more than his left as a scowl came on.

"I thought Wade didn't drink." I shook my head explaining. "Yeah, those guys are pretty drunk already. Wade will have a hard time ditching them. Jenna didn't tag along?"

"Her and Lana are coming together."

"Ah," he mumbled in his sage way. I spared him an inquisitive glance. "It makes sense. Jenna's giving you and Wade space, you feel me?"

"I feel you." I said after a long bout of silence between us. "I think she's afraid of losing me to Wade. It's silly—right?"

Caleb looked like he wanted to tail the girl who ran past us in a green two-piece. Instead, he sighed. But not even a second later, his eyes were ogling a dude I thought belonged to our football team. I snapped my fingers in his face. He offered a sheepish shrug as if saying 'what's a dude to do?'

"Wade's taking up a lot of your time, Chlo. You and her are spending way less time together—and it's not just Wade. It's senior year. You're taking different classes, for the most part, and after this…"

"What?"

He gave a wince at my snappy tone.

"After this year we'll be moving on. We're heading for different places, different colleges. Things are going to change whether we want it or not. Change is inevitable." We had walked to a stone bench, sitting beside well-kept bushes.

"It doesn't mean we'll never see each other again—we'll still be friends."

Caleb gave me an amused, yet sad, look.

"My sister said the same thing to me about her friends. She finished college three years ago. During that time, she and her friends saw a total of eight times of each other. They called and Skyped, but it stopped being so frequent. Until they just lost touch." I felt my stomach tightening, hating the thought of life without my friends. Without my surrogate sister. Without… my eyes searched across the patio for him. No, I wouldn't let myself go there. "Well," Caleb shoulder-bumped me. "This got depressive really quick, huh? Look at us. We should be partying!"

My head whipped towards the stairs. I saw Jenna there, Lana too. My eyes were working on zooming and slowing things. Because there, behind them, was Leonard. No, I thought with dread as the reaction was immediate. Not here, I pleaded with the tattoo. It wouldn't listen to me. I imprinted on that scent and…

"Chlo?" Caleb shouted after me.

It hurt. It hurt worse than resisting going out. But I needed to get myself away—distracted. And if there was one person who always made me forget madness it was Wade Withmore. The voices grew inside my head, in number and volume. Still, I gritted against the tugging of strings my tattoo so desperately tried to control me with and searched for him.

I couldn't get any further before a hand reached out, latching for my elbow. I wanted to retch. For a split second I thought Wade must have found me. But the thirst for blood exploded inside me.

Leonard had grabbed me. Did he have a death wish?

"I know what you are Chloe Clark." I thought I could reel in my need to wrap my hand around his throat—but I really couldn't.

With a brutal swing, I brought my free hand down on his arm. It broke. Cracked—it rang in my ears. The starts of a smile wisely made him hang back.

"Shit," he mumbled. Shit's right, something purred inside me. Finally. Hunt. Kill. "I thought you people didn't kill in crowds?" You people? I looked away for a moment. People were all around us. the only reason they hadn't spotted us or caught the sick crack of Leonard's arm was…

I narrowed my eyes as he ran away—faster than any human. Not a chance, I thought darkly, giving chase. With an exhilarating thought I went deeper inside the house, down a narrow corridor, down spiral stairs into a what looked and smelled like a wine cellar.

This was the hunt.