The Marked

Music boomed above us, above ground. I chased Leonard around shelfs of wine bottles. It was dark down in this cellar. Just then, I thought about that disgusting dream—about how I had been able to see in a completely closed off space. My eyes stung and, like a computer coming online, the imagery my brain processed was no longer pitch black. Colors were dimmed, some were almost grey, but the little light from the windows near the ceiling seemed to have doubled—or tripled. My muscles jerked before I knew why. I dropped into a crouch and saw a bottle fly over me. It crashed full-force into the wall. Monica's parents would be pissed about that. Or they wouldn't even notice it missing.

"I thought you just wanted to talk?" I copied his earlier words sweetly with a menacing edge.

Leonard shot from behind a shelf, making a run for the only way out—the way we'd come in. I ran for him as my eyes slowed his every movement for me. There was a slow tilt of his body. His shoulder collided with one of the heavy shelves. It came barreling down threatening to crush me underneath. I jumped forward in the nick of time, making the greatest jump in my life. About forty feet. And I landed on my feet, whirling to pursue just as the tip of my boot touched ground. Leonard's speed got him three steps upstairs, to safety. But I reached out with all I had, even as my shoulder protested, and my fingers closed on his shirt like claws. It was like pulling out one of those toys with the grappling hooks. I pulled him backward, flinging Leonard behind me—another shelf toppled. My bad.

I kicked out when he tried getting up. His head hit the shelf he was laying on with a bang. Then, I was crouching on top of him, my right hand at his throat. I pinned him like a helpless butterfly.

"What the… hell?" he gasped.

"I thought you knew what I was." I said without thinking. My brain was silently debating the best way to kill him. I didn't have weapons on me…

"…but you've…" I tightened the hold on his windpipe. Maybe a little too harshly. A strange crack came from it and his eyes shut. I slowly unwrapped my fingers to see. Hmm. His neck looked like a flattened can on the left. Broken bones wouldn't kill him, though.

That's when I remembered…

I gripped the arm I'd cracked when he grabbed me. "Didn't I break this before?" I moved it—waved it—and there was no odd angle. Leonard didn't seem in pain and… Kill him. The urge became crippling. My insides were twisting and pulling apart. Because the tattoo wanted him dead. Because I was trying to keep myself from doing something unspeakable, because I was trying to climb out of this hole—

A hand driven by need to end my longing that was masked as pain grabbed a tuft of Leonard's hair and pulled swiftly. Like ripping off a Ken doll's head. Blood came out in obscene quantity. Something inside told me: don't scream. Oh fuck, I thought instead. Horrified because I'd killed someone. Horrified because I felt myself smile. The pain and longing had gone away, leaving a trail of pride in their wake. No, no, I shook my head. My fingers were still grabbing Leonard's hair—holding his head.

My panic stifled once something weird happened—I felt myself giggle softly, a little madly—the blood began shrinking off of everything. The patches on me burned for a few seconds before vanishing. Not vanishing, I understood numbly fascinated, they were burning so hot they evaporated. They left nothing, maybe a little colorless spot, but no one would ever think a head had been torn off in this cellar, gushing blood across the floor and bottles, across the girl who tore it. This was one of those cliché moments when you thought 'well, things can't get any stranger' and exactly after you think it, it happens.

Leonard's skin started changing colors. It was at random, patches of skin became purplish as if he'd been bruised, then they darkened. I jumped back. Purple spread everywhere and the first dark patches became darker, almost black. Almost like… the tissue was suffering necrosis? At an astounding rate. The decomposition of his body kept up. I stayed there silently watching, unable to turn away or close my eyes. I watched his body crumple like something rotten, watched as dead cells detached and broke off, falling to the shelf and floor like ash. I didn't know how long I stayed there, paralyzed, as all that remained of Leonard were his clothes. His body—the head too—had become dark grain.

I looked down at my hand. I killed him with my hand, I thought, shaking. I glanced at the clothes and dark… dust? What should I do? My heart was beating wildly, and my tattoo was completely dormant. Sated. Because I'd killed a person? I swallowed. People's bodies didn't suffer accelerate decomposition and freaking necrosis on a magnifying level. People's blood didn't burn hot and evaporate. People didn't heal broken bones like it was—

A clap. Then another. I chanced a glare to the right.

"You…?" I choked out. Until she showed up I didn't think I'd be capable of stringing words together.

It was the girl with the Venator tattoo on her wrist. The one from Castles. The one with…

"You were watching me." I stated in an accusatory manner. She was looking down at the mess I'd made. "You were watching me, right? You could've stopped me, why didn't…"

"Why would I? I know I told you to keep those instinct under check and hey, you've been doing good staying in control. I honestly thought you were going to let him go. Part of me is happy you didn't, though. If you let him go, I'd have to chase him and put an end to his miserable existence." She flicked her small pony tail sideways. "I needed to watch you in the heat of battle." In the heat of battle? "You lost, by the way." I delivered a look between dread and confusion. She nudged some black dust or decomposed body cells with her boot. "It wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. You'll need training that's for sure, but I think you'll do alright."

I was… so far gone into a worry pit. What the hell was she talking in riddles for? To kill me with anxiety?

"Look…" I trailed off. I rubbed my forehead—then dropped the hand. It was the killing hand. "Can you please—please—tell me what just happened? What's been happening to me? I don't…"

"Nope," she said plainly, straight bangs tilting to one side as she coked her head. Seemingly taking no stock of my desperate, crumbling face. "I think you should head back to the party. I'll clean this up." The girl pointed down at the remains and clothes. "Tonight, after you get home, I'll be waiting for you. The time has come for us to chat, Chloe."

I thought I would've felt relieved—I was going to find out what I was! But what happened down here shrouded my mood in gloomy blue tones. I didn't understand why my emotions weren't more out of whack. Still, my eyes were fixated on the spot where I'd dropped Leonard's head before it suffered the same fate as the rest of him.

"Go on, now." The bright haired girl waved me off with a small smile. Like I hadn't committed first degree murder.

My legs took me away. I stumbled on a stone step as I made my way up the spiraling stairs, the music got louder, and I could hear people talking above it, or people whooping and splashing. Before I knew it, I was hovering near the fountain. Was it just me, or was there more people than before? Someone knocked into me—a guy, looking tipsy as hell. The red cup he held fell from his fingers, falling inside the fountain. I blinked. Another person brushed past me. I forced myself to look alive and normal and Chloe-like. Whatever being Chloe meant now. I tried to spot Caleb over at the stone bench, but he wasn't there, only two guys looking at their phones, laughing. I made a straight line to where a crowd was gathered, cheering. I saw a ping-pong fly over a few heads before someone caught it.

"Hi there." Came the familiar whisper from the person I'd been looking for before Leonard found me. Before he signed his death certificate. "You have no idea how bored I am."

Wade's hands settled on my hips after I whirled. He brought his head lower, locks of wavy hair brushed the top of my head. I couldn't hold myself back. I wrapped my arms around his chest, hiding my face in it. I didn't give a crap about the make-up or about Wade's white t-shirt getting smeared. I think I breathed his name—I was so out of my own body that I wasn't sure. Wade's arms tentatively went around me once I didn't answer him calling for me. I felt his arms become fiercer after a few seconds.

"Is something wrong?"

I was good at lying. But not even I could bluntly look into his eyes and say nothing was wrong, not after what I'd done. I wouldn't tell him the truth, either, though. I told him what Caleb and I had discussed before I spotted Leonard coming to the courtyard, about us drifting apart after senior year, about being worried that I'd lose my closest friends because of distance. Wade pulled us into a secluded place near the archways. I was tense remembering giving chase to Leonard nearby.

"Just because it happened with Caleb's sister and her friends doesn't mean it'll happen to you—or us. Each person is different, so are relationships. Some relationships don't survive under stress and others do. It's just a question of how strongly you feel about them, Chloe. What compromises you and they are willing to make." Wade's arm was draped across my lower back, keeping me glued to his front. My head rested on his chest. "I think Jenna's willing to commute a few hours to see you and vice-versa. Don't worry so much, okay?"

If only Wade knew what I'd done—inadvertently, but still. He wouldn't be holding me and murmuring soft words into my ear. I was too selfish and afraid to tell him the truth, so, I basked in his comforting presence. Keeping up the charade.

"I know," I croaked. I cleared my throat. "Why were you bored?"

"Because I don't drink and I was being pressured to drink every five seconds." Oh. "You missed Josh puking into a bush. I think people filmed it."

"Really?" he nodded. "That's disgusting."

Wade's ran down my straight mane of hair, "Caleb, Jenna and Lana came looking for you. Caleb said you took off running?"

"I… really needed to find the bathroom. Where did they go?"

"I think they're by the pool." I followed Wade's eyes. He shared a grimace. That was quite the swarm of human bodies dancing, doing cannonballs and people trying not to fall inside the pool. How were they in swimsuits? It was October.

"Do you want to go in and find them?" he asked, glaring at the mob like it was a killer shark.

"Do you?"

"Do you?" Wade threw back at me, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. The heavy pressure lifted an inch off my heart because Wade leaned down to kiss me. Soon, I was pressing into the arch, my body slightly hidden from view thanks to his. He worked his tongue into my mouth, slowly flicking it against mine, teasing me. My arms were around Wade's neck as I pulled myself up, getting closer to his height. Wade's hand pressed into the center of my back causing the ink to flutter to life. It was… enjoyable. Unable to stop it, I smiled into his mouth. Wade's hands scaled lower, lower… until he was cupping my butt. It was shameless of him—of me for letting him. But being decent in public was the last thing on my mind.

"Let's go…"

"What?" he asked against my lips in a low, toe-curling voice.

Having caught my breath, I repeated, "Let's go somewhere quieter."

Wade's brows furrowed. He was usually bolder when it came to displays of affection outside our houses. He licked his lips at the same time he brushed his thumb across my chin. He smiled.

"Your lipstick rubbed off." Ah, that explained why his mouth looked redder, too. "Where do you want to go?"

I shrugged, "An empty room?" I was sure there were plenty in this house. Wade seemed to think the same because after I spoke the words, he pulled me toward the stairs and we skipped upward. We reentered the house and made our way back to the hall. We pretended to admire the painting with the golden frame as three girls walked past us, heading the way we'd come. When they disappeared, Wade tugged me toward the stairs with the iron rail. The second floor was large, and doors were scattered wherever we looked. We tried many of them. Some were locked, two were bathrooms and one… was a bedroom. It looked well-furnished but impersonal, a guest room. We walked in, closed the door and didn't bother with turning on lights. Wade took us to the bed and we fell on it, kissing anew. I slipped on top of Wade, kissing down his neck. It was savage the way my hands sunk into his hair—the memory came back. Gripping Leonard's hair and tugging off his head. My fingers stilled.

Wade's hands were on the move as well. They were under my small jacket. His fingers explored across my smooth top. It was so thin it was almost like it was skin against skin. My tattoo reacted when his fingers slid across its place. It was so intense that my body thrust itself against Wade's. A soft groan dropped from my lips.

"Chloe," he whispered below me—his nose grazed the swell of my chest, before burning his lips on my neck. I made another noise. Wade's body reacted by becoming harder, his arms were bands of steel, pinning me so close. "I like those sounds." He confessed. I could make out his face with the scarce light coming from the large windows, he was grinning adoringly.

I melted into him, kissing him like crazy. Our dance carried on for a long time. My jacket had gone missing at one point, Wade's shirt was undone. I was on my back. Wade was propping himself up, laying on his side. Wade shushed me when his hand traveled south, as his fingers popped the button on my jeans and undid the fly. His hand was large, but Wade found room to fit. I jolted at the sudden alien touch brushing me. We'd done this before, once. My breath picked up all the same. Wade kissed my temple.

"Wow," it escaped him. He smiled at my eye roll. "Is this all for me?" I wanted to grit out 'shut up' only Wade's finger went a little lower—I bit my lip. "Your face is so red right now—it's adorable." Wade's finger was still, unmoving.

"I remember this being more... productive last time." I managed.

"Whatever do you mean?" My muscles flexed around him—without wanting to. Wade's half smirk told me he was enjoying teasing me by doing, well, nothing.

"You're supposed to do... stuff."

"Oh? What kind of stuff are we talking about?" My heart hammered. We were at a house party, in a bedroom that belonged to neither of us and I had just killed a guy—and Wade was making me a hormonal mess.

I looked up at him—my teeth gritted when he still wouldn't do anything... down below. I looked away, mumbling, "You know what stuff."

Wade's chest shook with concealed laughter before his finger moved. I palmed his skin as he worked me, rubbing against what I knew to be a spongy wall. I thought he was going to start pumping because he'd done it last time when I was so... wet. Wade pulled out, though, going to the little bundle. I gave a jolt against him, biting my lips.

"Tell me if..."

"A little harder." I whispered, peering into his green orbs. Wade complied, pushing harder. My eyes drifted shut as a feeling like fire built, swamping me and making my blood flow faster. For a moment it felt like I would suffocate. I didn't. Then, it felt like I was building up with no end in sight—but I reached the end. Wade slid his finger back inside, twisting his hand to keep working my clit with his thumb.

Wade heard the starts of a moan creep out of my throat, so, he swooped in and kissed me, saving me from being embarrassed about anyone who might have heard it. I clung to him as my body shook. He kept pulling in and out until the tremors subsided and I felt too sensitive to be touched. Wade kissed me ceaselessly as I smiled broadly, relaxed, at him.

"This party tops any party I've ever been to." Wade winked down at me.

Fear gripped me suddenly. Oh, Wade, you have no idea.