Marks of the Past - 3

Chapter 3

Anton was very worried about me when I came home - no, not home - with a black eye and bruises all over me. 

“What happened to her?” He’d been repeating that question over and over again as he cleaned the blood off my face. I hadn’t answered, and neither had James - who was sitting with his knees to his chest on the couch across from me. “James.” 

The father and son shared a look. Anton’s careful fingers dropped away from my face.
“We saw Hazel on the street,” answered James, softly. “She collapsed out - it was the … sickness. Leila and I tried to help and then the mobs came. There were guns and-” 

“Guns?” I interrupted, suddenly afraid. I hadn’t seen any weapons at all. 

James nodded solemnly before facing his dad. Again, they seemed to communicate silently, sharing unspoken information that I wasn’t supposed to hear. 

Anton heaved a sigh and turned back to me, dabbing at my split lip with a cloth. “This is the best I can do, darlin’. Unless, of course, you want to go back out there and call for a medic wagon.” 

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. Do you mind if I head up to bed now? I’m exhausted.” 

“Please, you don’t have to worry. It’s been a long day,” Anton assured me, waving his hands wildly. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” James added, giving his normal mischievous grin. 

“Yes, goodnight,” I echoed. Anton and James returned to a quiet conversation of exactly what had happened on the stroll. 

I showered quickly, washing the blood off of me. Looking in the mirror, I wondered if I’d ever looked worse. My face was swollen, a mess of bruises and cuts. My arms and stomach weren’t much better. 

I slipped into a nightgown that hung loosely off my frame, burying myself under as many blankets as possible on the bed. 

Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. I must’ve dozed off eventually because when my eyes opened again, the clock on the wall read midnight. James and Anton were probably asleep. 

Curiosity flooded me as I realized that if I wanted to do any investigating, now would be the prime time. The servants were all at home or in the servant quarters on the lawn, and James and Anton would be dead to the world. 

When I was little, my mother had described me as a creature of the night. She said that I loved to wander around in the dark. 

I didn’t remember any of that, but the exhilaration of being awake when I wasn’t supposed to be was amazing. I felt alive, every ache in my body disappearing as I threw back the covers and stepped out of bed, testing the floorboards. 

My feet were near silent as I crept across the floor towards the doors. 

“What are you doing?” 

The voice startled me and I jumped, spinning around to find Mark, his arms crossed and his lips pulled downwards in a frown. 

“You’re not supposed to be awake.” 

“At least I’m not dead,” I retorted. Mark didn’t seem offended at all, he even gave me that disgusting smile. “I’m just going to get a snack.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “A snack?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Look, you don’t need to babysit me. I can handle myself, thank you very much.” 

“Oh, like you didn’t need my help with the knife earlier?”

My cheeks flamed because I knew he was right, even if I couldn’t admit it. “I would’ve done fine without you.” 

Mark snorted. “Sure, sure. So where are we going?” 

“You,” I interjected, “are going far far away from me. And where I’m going is none of your business.” 

“Oh yeah? What if I told you I can help you find whatever you're looking for?” 

“I wouldn’t believe you because I’m not looking for anything but food. Now, if you’ll please leave me al-” 

“Do you really trust these people?” For once, Mark seemed genuine, no sign of his usual sarcasm and arrogance. He seemed sincerely worried about me, and that thought was enough to break me out of my daze. 

“Yes, I do. Why? Do you have a problem with them?”

Mark gave a shrug. “Not yet. But don’t come crying to me when you find out that this is all a lie.” 

I didn’t respond, but his words were already worming their way into my brain. 

There was a reason I was out of bed … I wanted to know what James and Anton actually saw in me. I wasn’t expecting to find a well written diary or anything, but just some clues as to why they chose me instead of a better criminal or that other girl. 

I turned the knob on the door, ignoring Mark’s presence right behind me. 

If I had been anyone else, would the door have been locked? After all, I was technically considered a dangerous prisoner. 

James and Anton trust you, the logical part of me said. Therefore you should do the same. 

Unless this is all an act, the paranoid side argued. This could be an elaborate ruse to use you for something. 

I pushed the thoughts out of my head, focusing on ultimate silence. I snuck down the corridors with only the shadows and myself. It was comforting and familiar, a sensation I enjoyed.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Mark asks, his voice sounded unusually worried. “Maybe it’s better if you leave the secrets undiscovered.” 

I wanted to ask him what he was so afraid of, but I figured that would only get me caught. Besides, if this was really going to give me some insight to Mark’s past or James’s motive, it was totally worth emotional turmoil. 

My mind was foggy concerning the tour from James, but I vaguely recalled what doors were marked as “private”. 

“You’re making a big mistake,” Mark continued. He made comments like that on and off as I checked each door, trying to remember which ones could be helpful to me. At best, I had maybe five hours if I didn’t want more sleep. 

This is one of them, I realized as I came across a door with a glass knob. 

“Do you really want to do that?” Mark asked me, and I ignored him again, opening it softly. 

I instantly regretted the decision immediately and I felt like I had been slapped. 

My mother had once told me that we were in the age of science - the era of invention and discovery. No longer were we forced to rely on swords and shields because now we had machines. To me, it felt like I’d been born at the wrong time. What fun were guns and factories when there was an entire world full of magic and mystery? I was born too late to be an adventurer, too late to do anything but be enslaved into a life of labor. 

Mother herself had been a victim of the horrors of factory life. Her lungs didn’t work the way they used to and her fingers were rough and calloused from years of use as a mechanic. No one escapes the factories. 

It was because of her stories that I recognized the odd pieces of junk in front of me as some sort of machine. 

The room was probably supposed to be a laboratory, though I wasn’t sure if it belonged to James, Anton, or maybe someone else. James’s mother was dead - that much I had gathered from conversation - so perhaps this was her space. 

“What is this?” I brushed my fingers along the cold metal of the machine. There were gears and vials and burners all attached by chains and other parts. In the center was a metal table that I assumed could be where materials being inspected could be set. Honestly, I had no idea what I was looking at and it gave me another excuse to long for my mother. 

Mark was at my side, but he was scowling intensely. “I would answer that, but I don’t want to ruin your perfect fantasy.” The words came out in a snarl. 

I was taken aback. Perfect fantasy? I was only here because I needed to survive the Redemption and get back to my family. James and Antons’ reasons for sponsoring me were what I was here for, and Mark wasn’t helping. 

“Tell me,” I demanded. 

Mark seemed to take glee in my desperation, but he didn’t actually answer my question. 

“What concoctions are they creating?” I thought back to my homeschooling. Mother’d only taught me on the weekends, when she wasn’t working in the factories. Science had been the weakest of my studies, I’d always preferred history - especially the past of magic and the kingdoms. “Alchemy of some sort?” 

Mark laughed - a terrible sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Alchemy? No, jenya, this is an experimentation set for humans.” 

Bile rose in my throat and before I knew it, I was out of the room and the door was locked shut. I was breathing heavily, emotions rising in my chest and making it difficult to think. The word humans bounced around in my head. 

James and Anton were experimenting on humans. 

“Mark,” I whispered, “why are they doing this? Actually, better question, what exactly are they doing?” 

Once again, Mark was silent but he began to creep down the hallways like he recognized them. He’d been at my side during the tour - he was always there, even when he didn’t show himself. Maybe he remembered. 

“Open,” he said when we reached a door with flowers painted on the wood. 

I obeyed him, silently turning the knob and slipping through the crack. Shame flooded through me as I realized where I was. 

Bookshelves lined the walls and a desk was placed in the center of the room. Its wooden legs had worn grooves in the soft rug. On the desk was an open journal and a jar of ink, turned on its side. The ink had been spilled and no one had bothered to clean it up. On the far wall was a painted picture of a beautiful woman and Anton. 

“Why are we in James’s mother’s office?” I asked softly, letting myself creep towards the desk so I could read the journal. 

“Read,” Mark replied, again with the one word answers. 

I nodded, walking to the other side of the desk where a cushioned chair sat unoccupied. I wouldn’t disturb the book this way. 

The pages were brittle under my fingers so I decided not to touch them anymore than I had too. Yes, I could observe the pages from afar - maybe try to discern the loopy handwriting that was scrawled hurriedly across the pages. 

… and I am afraid I am running out of time. Every breath feels like the air is turning to stone. I can see all those who I have saved, if only I could save myself. It seems ironic that my own body would turn against me in a time of need. There was a break in the page where the words written were too scrambled to actually read before the legible hand continued. I can feel myself slipping and death does not feel so bad. Should I be scared? I am not scared for myself, at least. I am scared for what Anton will feel when he reads this, scared for how James will react when he finds out that I read him stories before bedtime or tuck him in or cook him breakfast. I am scared for the day they join me. And I am scared for… 

The entry ended abruptly and I realized that this room … this was where she died. This unnamed woman. I was standing where her body toppled, where she took her final breaths afraid - not for herself, but for her family and how they would live without her. 

Mark was staring at me, his expression blank. “I told you.” 

“What happened to her?” I asked him, voice breaking. “Mark, why am I here? Why does everyone think you murdered so many people? And why do I have to live with all of this?” 

I felt so many things that I began to shake. I was angry at Mark for bringing me here, at James for lying and telling me that he felt that he should sponsor me. I felt ashamed to have looked through this stuff. I was scared of what would happen to me now and scared of whatever scared this woman so terribly. 

“Leila?” 

I snapped to attention as I realized it was James’s voice. He stood in the doorway, hair rumpled from sleep. He looked distraught. “Leila? What are you doing here?” 

It must’ve looked bad to him. The criminal he sponsored looking through his dead mother’s belongings, possibly crying over a woman she didn’t even know in the first place. I had no right to feel this way. 

“I … “ My voice trailed off as I searched for an excuse but couldn’t find one. “I’m sorry. It’s just … why did you sponsor me?” 

You’re such a brat, I told myself. James’s mother had died in this room and here I was, asking him why he chose to be kind to me when no one else would. 

James didn’t answer. He was staring straight at me, though I couldn’t tell if he felt betrayed or shocked or remorseful or… No, he was walking towards me and he was wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we sank to the floor together. 

Suddenly I was in the street again, the rain pounding on my back as I relied on James to keep me steady. What a pathetic, lying, two-faced coward I was. 

“I sponsored you at first because I thought you could help me,” James admitted quietly. “Now, I realize that maybe I have to help you first. I’m going to get you through the Redemption and you’re going to see your family again.” 

“Promise?” 

James didn’t hesitate. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure you see your family again.”

I nodded, relief washing over me. James didn’t seem angry, just exhausted. I supposed that was a good thing. It meant I wasn’t going to be punished for my curiosity - and it also meant I could rest easy knowing the true reason James wanted me here. 

“Would you like me to walk you to your room?” he asked after a while of me sniffling. 

“Yes,” I answered quickly. “I’d like that very much.” 

He helped me to my feet, letting me lean on him as we slowly made our way back to my room. He opened the door for me and I turned to face him. There we were, standing in the doorway in the middle of the night. It felt unreal. 

“Just remember, you can talk to me,” he whispered. “Now get some sleep.” 

“Thanks,” I murmured. James softly shut the door and I stood there for a moment, embracing the coolness of his disappearance. 

Mark had left a while ago, but I was sure the next time I saw him, he’d be seething in jealousy. I wasn’t afraid of him, though. After all, Mark was just a ghost with some serious haunting issues. 

That night, I slept better than I had in a long time. 

Three days passed without anything eventful happening. James didn’t tell anyone about my little expedition, something I was incredibly grateful for. 

It also didn’t help that Anton was distracted by “nasty pirates” that were terroizing citizens living on the coast of the Republic. Of course, no one really built houses there due to flooding every summer, but some of the elite had vacation homes there so the pirates could in theory be a threat to them. 

But what really worried me was the gala.

With three days left until the Redemption, sponsors were required to finalize their choices. They would sign off the documents at a ball where the whole town could meet the contenders for pardons. Every prisoner could choose to compete in the Redemption - though there was always a chance of death. Only the sponsored were likely to win. 

The gala was a place where James and Anton would show me off and try to prove I was deserving a pardon. The people attending the gala could choose to vote for me, and the criminals with the most votes would be given advantages. 

In that way, presence was important which is why one of the house’s maids was called in front leave to spend hours prepping me. 

“You have a lovely face, my dear,” claimed the maid, who’d introduced herself as Kass. “I really don’t understand why you hide behind your hair when you should be wearing your appearance proudly.” 

We both knew why I hid, but Kass was too kind to say anything. She decided to tie my hair back in some fancy braid that left my neck and face feeling exposed. She refrained from using any makeup or anything, telling me she wanted to play on my natural beauty. 

“It’s just a gala,” I argued as her deft fingers wove through my hair, untangingly the knots. 

Kass laughed. “Just a gala? Leila, this is the most exciting night of the year for some people? The Court get to see who ended up sponsored and the most likely for pardoned. The middle class enjoy seeing wealth. And the criminals, well, their life depends on this.” 

I hated that she was right and that my life might depend on my appearance tonight. One wrong move and I’d be given a disadvantage - whether it be entering the stadium with shackles around my wrists or an early entry of an extra twelve hours. 

Kass seemed to sense my fear. Her fingers were gentle as she finished with my hair and moved on to the closet. “Your dress just arrived today. I have to say - I’m a bit jealous.”

“Dress?” And I’d thought that the Redemption would be the worse thing to happen to me. 

Kass stuck her head out of the closet, nodding. “James ordered it specifically for you.”

I wondered how because James knew nothing about me. Did he guess? I wasn’t built like normal girls - I was skinnier and flatter. Maybe I didn’t want to know. 

When Kass returned from the closet, she wasn’t carrying a huge poof of tulle and train like I had expected. Instead, she had a small, delicate piece of fabric draped over one arm and a pair of flats in the other. 

The dress fit almost perfectly. Soft, black waves cascaded to just below my knees and the bodice was covered in a marbled swirl of obsidian and pearl. 

In the mirror, I looked deadly. 

I loved the dress and I was sure it cost James and Anton a fortune. But I hated how it made me look like I was going to kill someone rather than a fancy dinner. 

It made me look like Mark. Not really, of course. He never wore dresses and mostly stuck to his gold tunic. But the dress, for some odd reason, made me look dangerous. 

“You look stunning,” commented Kass.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to sound genuine. “I’ll have to tell James and Anton thank you.” Yeah, thanks for using my scar against me to make me look like an assassin. 

“Well, you don’t have to go far. Master James is waiting outside for you. He said he wants to personally escort you to the gala.” Kass handed me my shoes and waited for me. My heart was thrumming in my chest again. 

When I opened the door to find James, I was expecting him to make some comment about the dress or the scar. Instead, he gave me a quick smile, eyes flitting from the dress to my hair to my face then to his feet. A blush rose to his cheeks and I felt my own face turning warm. Did he not like it? 

“What’s wrong?” 

James grabbed my hand quickly, pressing something into the center of it. “Hide it well - you might need it.” He looked around, as if searching for something. “Something big is going to happen tonight, I can feel it.” And then he was gone down the hallway. 

In my palm was a dagger like the ones I had trained with. 

Goosebumps rose on my skin as I tucked the dagger into the waist of my dress, the cool metal pressing in on my skin. 

You don’t need to use it, I resolved. It felt like a lie.