Bloodmark Page 5

  “You’re stronger than you know. The legends speak to this.”

  “What legends?”

  He placed the hand-stitched leather book Mund had given me in my hands. It felt at home in my fingers, as if it had been there every day of my life, though Mund had just given it to me at the Rock.

  “Once you’ve read this, ask me again,” he said and stood up. “I have to speak with Willem. We’ll talk more soon.” With that, he walked away.

  I studied the book; it had the most beautiful handwriting, but most of it was in ancient Greek. It would take me months to translate. My answers were hidden in a language I didn’t speak. It was frustrating. As I paged through, I noticed I could read the parts written in Old Mother’s language, the language of the Bloodmoon. Old Mother’s language was the one thing Mund was adamant I learn, and this book would tell me why.

  I was cold, soaking wet, and irritated with everyone. Instead of spending years teaching me the language of the Bloodmoon, Mund could have saved us both time and just told me what this stupid book said. Everyone was always trying to protect me from something, but making me ignorant didn’t protect me from anything. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest, and closed my eyes, hoping I would wake to find it had all been a bad dream.

  With the ferry bobbing on the rough waters and the fear that still pulsed through my veins, my mind didn’t allow me to rest, but soon we were on land. I slowly sat up and looked around. I saw Willem first, standing at the dock, writing something down for a portly, bald man. They continued to converse quietly.

  Willem turned to me. “Ahhh, you’re finally awake,” he said.

  My stomach did all the talking with a loud grumble. He smiled and tossed me a heavy package. “Eat up. Baran will be back shortly.”

  I hastily unwrapped the butcher paper and started shoving the meat in my mouth, not even tasting it. I think it was dried venison, but I was too hungry to care. There was a constant aching pain in my heart that the meat wouldn’t ease. Willem stood before me, and he put his palms to my cheeks.

  “That is the saddest face I’ve ever beheld. You could break the very heart of me.”

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling a little before shoving the last piece of meat in my mouth.

  “Any time,” he said with a wink.

  The loud thud of footsteps drew my attention back to the dock. Baran had changed his clothes. He was fresh and clean again but rugged all the same. He carried a black plastic bag, and he smiled when he saw me.

  “We’re in Queensborough, outside London,” he said, handing the bag to me.

  I peeked inside. It was a black leather motorcycle jacket with a mandarin collar and crisscross stitching over the sleeves. It was simple but elegant. I took off his jacket and slipped on the new one. It fit perfectly. I smiled at him.

  He looked embarrassed suddenly. “I wanted mine back,” he said. I almost laughed, but I handed him his jacket. “It’s time for us to go. Take care, Willem. Give my love to Khepri, and I’ll contact you when we’re safe.”

  Willem nodded, and if I knew him better, I would have said he was sad to see us go. Baran ushered me to a waiting cab.

  “Heathrow Airport,” Baran said to the cabdriver.

  As we drove away, I looked back for Willem, but he was already gone, probably on his way back to Scotland. It must hurt them to be apart, as it had always left a hole in my soul being away from my family. We were pack animals, and living a solitary life was against our ways. We were meant to be one with each other.

  I was too distracted to notice the drive as we arrived at the airport. I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Adomnan to come for me. I smelled the air, but I didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary, beyond Baran and I. We were the only animals here.

  He rushed me into the airport with smooth, long strides. I almost had to run to keep up with his pace. He knew his way through the airport with ease, and he had all the proper paperwork for me. I just followed him like a lost puppy. If he moved, I moved. We drew the attention of the humans, but trying to be discreet wasn’t really an option for the two of us.

  Once seated in first-class on the airplane headed for New York City, away from everyone’s questioning and judging eyes, I finally thought to ask, “Why are we going to New York?”

  “We land in New York. Then we will get my bike and drive to my home.” He studied my face for a moment and corrected, “I mean, our home.”

  I tried to smile, but there was nothing left. I felt empty or too full of emotions I didn’t know how to deal with. He took my hand in his.

  “You will be posing as my niece. You lost your parents, and I’m now your guardian. You will start your junior year in high school in a little over a month. You’ll have to try to fit in.”

  I turned away from him, looking out the window into the foggy unknown. I didn’t know how to fit in. My cheeks turned red, and my vision blurred with tears. I didn’t want to let him see me cry again. I wasn’t a child anymore.

  I heard the flight attendant stop bustling about and lean over to me. “Are you well, dear? Can I get you anything?” I tried to smile at her and shook my head.

  Her voice was saturated with empathy. I wondered if Baran could hear that in her voice as plainly as I could. If he did, he gave no indication. “She’s lost her parents, but she’ll be fine. Thank you for asking,” he said. “I’ll take a water, please.”

  She handed a short plastic cup of ice water to Baran and touched my shoulder. “Oh darlin’, you just let me know if there is anything I can do to help you two,” she said. With that, she finally wandered away.

  I wished it were easy to leave everything behind. How could I tell my brain to stop hanging on to my heart and to just let it go? I should have been excited for my first flight, but I couldn’t feel anything as I watched the city disappear under the clouds. I was too angry, scared, and lonely.

  6

  Lost

  The ten-hour flight went by so fast, I didn’t have time to collect myself or my thoughts. But I knew I had to gain a little self-control. The captain interrupted my self-indulgent thoughts, asking everyone to take their seats and buckle up as the plane prepared to land in New York. “’Bout time,” Baran said. “I’ll get you home real soon, safe and sound.”

  It sounded too good to be true. It was only a matter of time before the tiny bit of reserve I had broke and there would be nothing left for him to protect but a pile of blubbering tears. I had to hold it together, or this whole battle would be for nothing.

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and his strength almost gave me strength, but not enough. We walked through the crowded airport, and there were blurry faces all around us, empty space where their faces should have been. It was like walking through a sea of soulless people. Were they soulless, or was I? I wanted to be home by the sea. I wanted to be with my mother. Everything I knew was gone, and everything I had was taken away. Everything had somehow changed, and I still didn’t understand why.

  We exited the airport into the rain. I looked up into the sky and let it wash my tear-stained face and calm my mind. I started spinning around, letting it wash over me—cleansing my soul, setting me free.

  Baran’s motorcycle waited for us outside. I studied the black Harley. I had to admit that his bike made a statement no one would dare argue with. It had a presence like he did. We left the brightly lit, concrete city behind on our five-hour drive to the coast of Maine. We drove on the blackened roads of a foreign land. We passed cities, farms, and the great wide open. If it hadn’t been for the crisp wind in my face, I might have believed this was all an illusion, but the trip was over quickly in comparison to the last few days. We arrived in the small coastal town of York Harbor after dark. We parked in front of a historic-looking house with an open porch and a widow’s walk on the roof. The house loomed over us as we walked inside.

  His house was immaculately clean but cluttered with books. I felt strangely comfortable surrounded by his things. “Thi
s is home,” he said. “Your room is this way.”

  He showed me to a closet door in the center of the house, just off the kitchen. He pulled a silver handle that opened up a hidden doorway to a wrought-iron spiral staircase. I gulped down my fear as I followed him. At the top of the stairs was a small bedroom and bathroom. A bay-window seat was on one end of the room and the bathroom on the other. It was a little creepy, but it felt safe. Only a bare bed and a five-drawer dresser were in the room.

  “I’ll get you some bedding.”

  I took a seat in the window, resting my face on the cool glass, watching the nocturnal animals as they scurried about their evening business. I didn’t look up when I heard him enter. I was too bitter about my situation to care what he wanted. Baran set sheets and a large comforter on the bed.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. I heard his footsteps as he descended the stairs. I was wary of my new home, but the tiniest part of me was excited. Maybe I could build a life here. I grabbed the black comforter and wrapped it around my body and sat back down.

  I was so angry with everyone. Why didn’t Mother fight harder, why did she let Baran take me? Had she finally given up? Even Mund let this happen. I could expect as much from Father, but it hurt to think Mund and Mother would allow this. Maybe it was time for me to learn to be on my own. I had yearned for freedom and adventure my whole life, and here it was in front of me, waiting for me to grasp it. I just had to have the courage to do it.

  The next morning, I studied the room by the light of day. It wasn’t a bad room; boring, but private. I yawned, taking in a deep breath. I hadn’t showered in days, unless the rainstorm counted. I hopped in the cast-iron tub to take a shower. The warm water felt good on my dirty skin.

  I was finally clean, and the idea of putting dirty clothes back on was out of the question. I wrapped myself in a giant towel and ventured, the metal stairs frigid under my bare feet. I found a plate of cooked bacon in the kitchen and snagged a piece of the salty meat, surprised to find I liked it. I searched for Baran, wandering through the living room; the room was as clean as the others and utterly masculine. The smell of burned wood was prominent from the fireplace. A large bookcase was filled with books that poured out of the full shelves to the floor. The coffee table was cluttered with papers, a few open books, and a pair of boots.

  I continued from the living room down a long hallway, and I entered the office with four walls of solid bookcases. The books in here appeared to be much older, like books from Father’s library. Some were stacked haphazardly, barely on the shelves at all. A large wooden desk sat in the center of the room, and it was covered in stacks upon stacks of books and scrolls. Behind it was a stately chair, almost throne-like. There was a stack of old tapestries and Turkish rugs in the side of the room. I glanced across the hall to the bathroom. It looked uninhabited.

  I continued down the dark hall past two stark, empty rooms, opening the last door to a large dark bedroom. His room was like a well-organized antique store. It must have contained his family’s most-prized possessions. His large four-post bed was unmade, his black sheets hanging off onto the floor. Even more books were stacked all over the bed and floor. I wondered what answer he was searching for.

  I dug through a stack of pants in his closet until I chose a pair of tan canvas work pants and slipped them on. They rode low on my small hips and were a foot too long, but they would have to do. I saw an open drawer of white T-shirts and slipped one over my head, tying it at my waist.

  I walked back to the kitchen for more bacon and took a seat at the table. There wasn’t a single photo displayed in the entire house. It was unnerving, as if he had something to hide. I had met his nephew Willem—why were there no photos of Willem and his wife?

  I glanced out the window to see a blue four-door sedan. It didn’t seem like something Baran would drive, but then whose car was it? I turned around to the sound of the front door opening. A blonde woman with big blue eyes watched me from the doorway. She was short with cute freckles all over her round face and little nose. Her hair was cut short to her chin. She looked young, but her eyes gave her away. She was much more mature in life and age than her round face alluded to.

  She smelled good, almost savory. My mouth watered at the thought. I had never tasted a human before—I knew our purpose was to protect them—but their scents tempted even the strongest of our kind. The woman studied me as I did her. I felt self-conscious of my appearance and began to fidget with my shirt.

  Her pink baby-doll shirt offset her light-blue jeans that crinkled as she set her purse down on the entry table. “Good morning, dear. I’m Claire. I work with your uncle at his shop.”

  What shop, I wondered. I didn’t know what Baran did to pose as human. She took a few steps toward me, extending her hand out in the standard human greeting. Her scent crept back into my nose. I tightened up, standing perfectly still, wide-eyed, trying desperately not to react to her scent. I couldn’t think with her scent in my head. I closed my eyes tight, trying to block her from my mind.

  Nervously, she giggled, and I heard her take a subconscious step back. I had to get control and respond. She was going to think I was deranged. It was obvious she was uncomfortable in this odd situation—only she didn’t seem to realize why she should be scared of me.

  She started to talk very quickly, but it was easy for me to understand her. “Baran asked me to pick you up this morning and take you to the shop to meet up with him. Are you ready to go now, or shall I come back later?” She didn’t even wait for my response. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She started toward the door in a rush.

  “No bother,” I managed.

  She glanced back over her shoulder at me, and I forced a smile. It worked. Her face lit up like sunlight. “Oh good. Baran said you might be sad, with the loss of your parents and all, but here you are smiling and everything. What a trip you must have had.”

  She babbled the whole way across the small town of York Harbor. We passed houses and storefronts and arrived at a large mechanic’s shop with an immaculate showroom. Everything in York Harbor was so different from my home at the cliffs. The chatter had quieted; Claire must have asked me a question, but I wasn’t listening—I was concentrating on not killing her. I looked over at her, and her car door was open. She seemed to be waiting for me to get out. I jumped from the car and followed her to the second open stall, where a custom-built matte-black motorcycle sat getting new tires.

  Baran knelt, loosening a bolt with a lot of grunting, but it was all for show. I knew he could easily lift the bike with one hand and toss it across the street if he had wanted. He looked up at me and answered Claire. “Claire, thank you for bringing Ashling. I’d like a word with her.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, and she darted away like a rabbit into the building. Though we were meant to protect them, she sparked my predator instinct to chase. Baran was studying me when I finally brought my attention from the scent of Claire’s blood to him.

  “Nice clothes.”

  I felt my face turn as red as my hair. “Sorry. I didn’t have anything to wear. I hope you don’t mind?” I kept my eyes on the floor, suddenly embarrassed to be dressed like this. I wanted his acceptance, and I didn’t know how he would react to me rifling through his things.

  He laughed, filling the tall ceilings with his thunderous sound. “Had I known I’d be bringing you back with me, I’d have prepared better for you,” he said, still chuckling at my expense. His tone turned serious. “Claire is a test for you. You’re doing well, but you need to do better. I can see it in your eyes. You need to hide your desire, bury it deep. Don’t let me down.” He paused, studying my face. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I was ashamed to be reacting to Claire’s scent so deeply. I knew the forsaken wolf packs ate humans, but all other packs ate livestock. I preferred wild game myself—the hunt was so much more rewarding. “Well, you can’t run around in my clothes forever. So I’ve asked Claire to take you shopping for whatever you need to
be comfortable here.”

  Despite my anxiety, I smiled at him. “I forgot to bring any money while I packed for the trip.”

  He snorted out a laugh; at least he appreciated my sarcasm. “Oh, I have that covered.” He handed me a wad of American money. It was so colorless in comparison to most of the world’s money, but the texture was almost like cloth in my fingers. “This should get you started. Please return Claire to me in the same condition I’m lending her to you.” He closed my hand around the money with a smirk and went back to grunting on the bolt.

  I followed Claire’s scent into the main building and found her barely able to sit still. She rushed over to my side, grabbing up my hands and dragging me out the door and back to her car.

  “Just think, Ashling—shopping on work time and a makeover too!”

  “Makeover?”

  “Oh sure, honey. Baran said to help you with all the lady essentials. So I thought we’d go to the spa first. Hair, mani, pedi, makeup, then hit the mall. He said you needed some things for your room too. And then who knows where the wind may blow us.”

  “What’s a mani and pedi?”

  “Oh heavens!” she said. “You’ve never had a manicure and pedicure? Honey. It’s a good thing you have me.”

  Her energy made my skin twitch. The day was a horrifying blur. After several hours of what I gathered to be the ritual sacrifices of the American woman, I was starving, but she didn’t returned me to Baran until dusk. I had to have had at least a dozen shopping bags of clothes, shoes, and makeup. I did sneak into a bookstore when she was distracted and picked up a few of my favorite classics.

  My hair was shaped into ringlets of red curls but still wild. I had makeup on my face. I wore a short denim jacket over a paisley-printed, knee-length, flowing dress and tall, dark-brown boots. I could feel Baran’s steel gaze as he looked at me.

  “You look nice, Ashling,” he said. “But the boots? I’m not sure they’re appropriate for a girl of your age.”