The Marked

Wade dropped me off when clocks in Washington screamed one in the morning. Mom was sleeping already—thank God—because if that weird, beautiful girl kept her promises, she would be waiting for me. Once I slipped inside my room, closed the door—locking it—I saw no one but me inside. Until something shimmered and, out of thin air, a familiar girl materialized on my balcony. She waved at me as if she were Jenna, just popping in for a sleepover.

I braced myself. I gripped the French door handles and let her in. She waltzed in like she belonged. Strawberry haired girl took a place at the foot of my bed, eying the stars and moon on the ceiling.

"That's cool." Okay. Thanks for the stamp of approval, random girl. "Lover boy waited until you came inside before taking off, that's really sweet. Can't say any guys I've dated fall under the 'sweet' category."

I suppressed yelling. "Listen, whoever you are, we're not here to talk about my boyfriend or about your old flames. You're going to tell what the hell is happening to me. Got it?" Goodbye fuse I just blew. Somehow, I reminded myself to keep my voice down. "I killed a guy—a classmate—and you fucking smiled at me. You let me do it."

"We've covered that point already. If you'd let him go, I would've chased him and killed him. Less work for me. And I needed to watch you in the… thralls."

"The thralls?" I delivered in a stale tone.

"Yeah, the hunt is our one, true passion. Sorry to inform." She tipped back on her elbows. "So, Chloe, take a seat. Please, I insist. This is your bedroom." I rolled my eyes, whirling. I grabbed out my chair and sunk down, facing her. "Let's start easy, okay? My name is Venus."

"Venus?" I looked at her dumbstruck. "Like the planet?"

She gave a head shake.

"No. Like the Goddess. My family has a thing for bestowing names with unattainable meaning." If I wasn't mistaken, Venus was a Goddess of love and beauty. Venus—the one in my bedroom—didn't fail that last requisite. "You asked about a tattoo the first time we met. Which told me you don't know a thing about what you are—what we are. I'm sorry about that," it was the first time I heard something heartfelt coming from her mouth. "Awakenings are hard…"

"Awakenings?"

"When the tattoo comes in." I shut up hoping Venus would take the hint and explain more. "We're called the Marked, Chloe. I know, the name lacks luster, but it's been like that for centuries. I thought about starting a petition once to change it…" Venus shook her head, nose wrinkling at a smile before it slipped off. "Right, so, we're called the Marked. You can think of us as a defensive line between humans and non-humans. We hunt people who've become tainted—mutated."

"We hunt X-men?"

"Who?"

"You know, that mutant team with the bald guy in the wheelchair? There are like a hundred movies about…" I trailed off, she was shaking her head at me hard. "Never mind. Why do you hunt them?"

"We," Venus underlined. "Because they're no longer human. Well, half of them isn't. They're called Dhampirs." I was sure I'd heard that word somewhere before. Movie? "What do you think about the Vampire genre? Believer, non-believer?"

I looked at Venus with her tight jeans and dark jacket. My eyebrow lifted in response to her and her words.

"Are you telling me there are Vampires?"

"Yes and no. They're not the romantic type that sparkle in the sun. Or the love triangle kind that will risk their lives for you." Jenna would've jumped to defense, since Vampire Diaries was her all-time fav. Team Damon and all that jazz. "They're older than anyone alive—immortality, checked. They can't go out in the sun—checked. They need blood to survive—not entirely accurate, but they do need it. They can make people like them—also not true. We call them Draugar." She stressed the word. "Draugar have a toxin in their gums, sort of like snakes, and they can choose to inject it once they bite someone. If they do, the toxin will spread out through the human, mutating their DNA. They become Dhampirs."

I stared at her, unblinking. A little uncomprehending. Somehow, I was convinced maybe I'd wake up and these last months were an awful dream.

"You look shocked."

"Yeah. A little." I whispered. "I don't… I'm trying to stay with you. Maybe we can slow this down."

"Slow it down?"

"Yeah. Like... Focus on us—on what we are." Then we could build up to the fanged elephant in the room.

"Hmm, sure. In layman's terms, we're heirs to a very long legacy." Legacy. That one word shackled me in. "When I say long—I mean long. Once upon a time, when electricity was years from being invented, a group of people who dabbled in mystical arts cursed some foreigners as punishment. But the curse wasn't all they hoped, it backfired. The cursed people found a way to survive and thrive, even becoming a danger to others. The mystically inclined people—they're called Shamans. Have you heard of them?"

"Yeah. Native Americans, right?"

"Not only," Venus said. "Shamans have this strange connection with nature, life and death. It gives them power. So, they sought to correct their mistake. They gathered a large group of men and women, all of them skilled fighters. They gathered three ingredients. One was for spirituality—the lotus flower. Another was to unite—newborn's blood. Lastly, a predator's heart. Insert creepy ritual here." Venus stuck out her tongue making a bleh sound. I was sitting on the tip of my seat, I wasn't sure how I hadn't slipped and hit my head on the floor. "The lotus' petals contribute for spiritual awakening. It's what brings out our gift. The newborn's blood links us and ensures that the legacy lives on—blood to blood. The predator's heart is to secure our dedication to the cause, the thrill of the hunt and kill." The heat of battle, Venus had called it. "And that's how we came to be, Chloe. Nowadays, we live in Communities. Small, but strong, scattered where they're located or where great numbers of their spawn wonder about."

"They?"

"The Draugar." Ah, yes. Of course. "You could say we were magically engineered to kill them."

"Right," I whispered. I licked my lips. I had so many questions—asking them would give me a massive headache or possibly make it explode. Still, I needed answers. I needed to grip this. "I thought the Shamans wanted to correct their curse, that's why they made... huh..."

"The Marked—us." She provided helpfully.

"Right," I repeated. "But you just said we were engineered to kill..." What Venus said fell into place and I saw it crystal clear. "They cursed people into becoming monsters? What the hell?"

"I told you, the curse backfired. Shamans can wield power by entering a state of ecstasy—it's like they ascend into a higher state of consciousness and perceive the Beyond—as they call it. It's the very fabric of existence and in that state they can reach into the Beyond for three forces: nature, life and death. Elements come from nature, capable of giving or taking life. Blood and living organisms are linked to life. Spirits and non-living things are tied to death. You can picture it like a triangle. Each point represents one of these things and in the middle, is the Beyond, the door to access these forces. Are you following me?" Huh, sure, brain still playing catch-up. "There was a considerably large settlement of Eskimos in Northern Canada and among them, some were Shamans. Around the late nine-hundreds a group of Vikings' arrived there—to conquer it. I don't know how familiar you are with Viking culture, but one of the most notable things about them were raids. Besides them being brutal and bloodthirsty. Stories about their terrible feats spread from village to village, reaching the Eskimo settlement. The Shamans decided to take matters into their own hands after the Vikings' first visit to take their land, food, children and homes, they cursed them. They cursed the invading foreigners, rendering them powerless during the day, making them slaves to bloodlust—very literally—but something went wrong. The cursed Vikings received gifts, too. Immortality. They became able to entrance people with words. Not much later, they learned about turning humans into Dhampirs and that was when the Shamans created our race, Chloe."

"To fix their mess."

"In a way."

"They created more monsters to wipe out their old ones." Venus spared me an insulted glare. "What do you call what I did to Leonard?"

She snorted, "Your job."

"No, it was horrendous."

"You didn't think it was when you ripped his head off."

My breath came harder, "He... had a family."

"You don't know that. Dhampirs are half Draugr..."

"I thought it they were called Draugar?"

"Draugar is used for plural. Singular is Draugr." Vampire was so much easier to spell. "A perk of being a Dhampir is not aging, same as their parents." She rolled her pretty eyes like I was a nuisance. "Draugar can't procreate, they need blood to keep themselves from turning into ugly shitty beasts, not to live. Their organs are way past dead. No real heartbeats, no need for bathroom breaks, no eating normal food, no hair growth—nothing. They are dead bodies who keep fresh by drinking blood. So, the only way they can spread their legacy is by..." Venus waved a hand at me, like I was about to make a big debut.

The answer rolled off my tongue like none other ever, "By using their toxin."

"Ding, ding, ding. You're a quick learner, that's good. Yes, essentially, a human injected with Draugar toxin becomes their spawn. Like I told you, the toxin mutates the DNA like nothing else, it works wonders in a couple of hours. It's because the toxin isn't without it's fancy mystical properties, the same that made Draugar."

"Why do they make Dhampirs?"

"Because they're very useful. Thanks to their mixed DNA, they can walk in the sun. Their bodies aren't dead and they do need blood to survive or their cells will start decaying, dying. They heal faster than humans, they're faster and stronger. Among other things." Like not aging. Leonard could have been hundred years old.

"What about the smell?"

"Ah. That's because of their mutation, it sets off our Marks like crazy." And my inner hunter, apparently. Venus cracked her knuckles before jumping to her feet. Feline grace and all. "I think that's enough for tonight. You don't think you're crazy anymore."

Debatable. I whirled on my chair as she aimed for the balcony doors.

"You're just—leaving?" I deadpanned.

She glanced over at me with a funny glint in her pupils, "I think I've shared more than you can chew for one night. Don't you?" Yes, my brain was buzzing, but I still needed more. "I'll come back tomorrow night. Make sure to clear your schedule..."

...And she was gone. Vanished. What a handy gift.

I locked the doors, went back to my bed and sat. Assimilating. This would've been way more shocking and nuts if I hadn't turned into Freak of the year overnight. If I hadn't seen a body degenerate and evaporating blood. Shamans. Curses. Draugar—freaking Viking vampires. Dhampirs.

Marked. The Marked. A legacy created to wipe out a punishment gone wrong. A legacy passed on by blood. But that would mean Mom or Dad... I felt my nails prickle my palms. Could it skip generations? Like genetic conditions? I fell back. I wanted to call Jenna. I wanted to, but didn't. At the party, after Wade and I finished up, we met with Jenna and the gang but I didn't share a thing. It hadn't been the place and now was not the time.

I found myself getting out of my party clothes and into my sleeping ones. Found myself nested under the covers with many questions, but one burned brighter than all others. How hadn't Draugar been extinguished after so many years—after a thousand years?

***

The humming of a familiar tune, lullaby, fluttered in my mind. Someone was humming. It was like a piece of lint stuck to a shirt, frail and precarious. Like if I shifted the wrong way it would blow away—the lullaby would.

I saw something—someone. It was the outline of a man, tallish, slim chested and round shoulders. His face though... A mystery. The humming came to a stop. I was eyeing the man in the doorway. I felt myself get up and a weight rested on my arms—I kept it close to my chest. I looked down at the bundle. It was a baby. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, the baby was still very young, maybe a month old. From the babies I'd seen in the hospital where mom worked.

"I don't want to leave." the man said, voice slightly distorted in my ears.

"Then don't," the voice coming from me was a little rougher, more aged. With feeling. "There's no guarantee he'll..."

"Of course there is. It's what they do—what he does." Tears gathered in my eyes, dimming the man much more. "I can't stay. I have to go." The voice was made up with resolution.

"And do what?"

There was a pause that wrenched the heart from my chest.

"Finish it." He said stonily. "Or die."

I stumbled, my hand pressed tightly against my lips. The lavender painted walls tilted as tears poured down. He came closer but stopped, heading for the crib with the gently sleeping babe. I felt a sob tear itself from my throat.

Suddenly, the world was a dark background.

***

I woke up feeling exhausted. It was almost midday. There hadn't been any horrible nightmares, which was great, but I felt emotionally drained. Like I'd been shredded by an emotional blender. A giant yawn later, I managed to roll my ass out of bed.

I jumped two feet in the air.

"Mom!" I yelled. Mom was practically bending over the foot of my bed with a cake in hand. Smiling like a total creep-o who'd been watching me sleep for hours. I got where the creaking sounds came from though, my bedroom door opening. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Her grin wasn't demurred. "Sorry, sweetie, I've been up for a long time. I was going to wait until you woke up—but I just couldn't anymore."

I rubbed my eyes, "Seriously? Why are you awake?" My voice came out as a groan.

Mom looked a little stumped for a second.

"I don't know, I just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep." So... obviously, she made a cake. "Anyway, I thought it would be a perfect time to celebrate your birthday." I couldn't stay mad at Mom for giving me a giant scare or for being up instead of staying in bed, resting. Not after she ran to my side, taking a seat. She placed the small cake on her lap and grabbed a lighter from inside a hoodie she was wearing. "Okay, get ready for wishes!"

She wouldn't even let me brush my teeth. She lit the candles and started blasting happy birthday in my ears. I grinned through it all, though. Mom was the best and I loved her corky attitude. I shut my eyes. If I could have one wish what would it be? I felt my breath whisk past my lips. I didn't believe wishes came true, so I never wished for anything before. This time, I did. I wished to go back to normal. But me, being the liar that I am, knew what scrapped against the surface, the real wish: Answers.

Mom started going on about a shopping adventure that would have please Jenna to no avail. I ate my breakfast—a thick slice of cake—and rushed inside the bathroom once Mom left, saying she was going to get changed. Last night came in swirls of guilt, pleasure and shock. Guilt for killing Leonard. Pleasure from Wade and our little escaped. Shock for the obvious reasons: Vampires—I mean, Draugar and their offspring, for lack of better word, Dhampirs. Days ago, the world seemed to be falling around me, now, even though I'd committed a crime, I was strangely calm. Buzzing with thirst to know more. At the same time, a level-headed part of me whispered: tread lightly, one shouldn't trust every detail and story they're fed.

I finished tying my hair into a high ponytail. I tugged it steadily into place.

I wasn't going to blindly trust Venus. She showed up out of the blue. Coincidence? It was hard for me to believe in those. I would test her for answers about the Marked and their rivals, I wouldn't trust her with anything about myself, though.

***

Sunday afternoon was a whole lot of shopping, a whole lot of headaches—the voices—and I had to run for the bathroom a couple of times for obscene periods of time. Why? That smell attacked me more than once, from more than one side. All I could do not to head in the direction of it, like a bloodhound, was think: Mom is waiting at the store. You're in a public place, no good. Which seemed to pacify my inner-hunter. Mom had been worried when I ducked into a Starbucks along the street—because yes, another Dhampir scent called me out—I told her I thought my period had come in. After that, I read Mom's fleeting worry about Wade and I engaging in unprotected sex, considering the danger of me being late and, possibly, pregnant. Thank God it was a fleeting thought—not even there for more than ten seconds. When I'd been shy into my fifteens (and started showing definite interest in boys), Mom had taken it upon herself to show me all kinds of videos on childbirth and made sure I knew how contraceptives worked. Caleb actually got educated by her, too, since he made a joke about using two condoms at the same time. I smirked and laughed to myself reliving the funny memory of Caleb's face turning pink to red, then, when Mom showed him the repercussions of what could happen—either babies or sexually transmitted deceases—he'd gone white.

Done with reminiscing and done with putting new clothes away, I sat on bed. There was a quiz I needed to study for—Econ—but I felt a need tugging at my heartstrings to call Jenna and tell her everything. That meant coming clean about Leonard. My eyes lingered on the phone in front of my crossed legs. I wasn't ready. I couldn't lie to her about something that serious—not if I was going to tell the rest of the story. I knew the longer I went without sharing, the harder it would be to confess later on. I chose putting off, anyway, and texted Wade asking how his day had gone. I cracked my Econ stuff open and delved in. Whenever the little tickle of cold rushed into my lungs, reminding me Leonard wouldn't be attending class from now on, because of what I'd done, I would stop and breathe deeply. Five big breaths. Before going back to my notes. The later it got, the antsier I got. My dinner was twice my usual fill and Mom gave me an odd look.

I shrugged, "I'm a growing girl."

To which Mom replied, "You hate olives." Ah. Again eating what I didn't like. Oh well. "How's school going?"

"Tests, papers—the usual." I said bored.

"But it's senior year," Mom drew out. "Shouldn't you join some clubs to put down on your college applications?" Probably. The thing was: there was nothing I'd ever felt passionate about. Wade had soccer, Jenna loved writing (which was her reason for being on the school paper last year), Caleb had plenty of things like theories, dissecting movies and his base guitar. "Chloe?"

I blinked, then looked her in the eyes. I'd just realized how strange that was. I loved tons of things, but there was nothing I loved doing. I studied because it was my job. The courses I picked out were all math related—except English and Spanish—they were based on logic. There was no career path in my mind, no desire for any degree or to excel.

"I'm... fine. Sorry," I plastered my best goofy smile. "I was thinking about how Jenna's going to love those boots we bought." Mom believed it, quickly following up on asking how Jenna's veggie diet was going.

Climbing the stairs, though, the smile fell at my pounding feet. I'd never felt emptier in my life. Venus' words chased me: The hunt is our one, true passion. Sorry to inform.