Marks of the Past - 9

Chapter 9

Nik had way too much enjoyment in watching Jonah, Chelsea, Rave, and I suffer through him explaining his crazy plans. 

After one hour of him trying to explain the importance of the certain ship he wanted to cross the sea, he finally seemed to realize that none of us were particularly interested in the topic. Nik then gave up on the tiny details and went over the general gist of his first plan and thirteen contingency plans. 

Our first step was to get to the docks and steal a ship. Rave was assigned with the task of threatening several of the dock workers into not showing up the night we would leave. Then we would take a boat, sail across the ocean to Miryir for about half a week. We’d arrive in Nik’s “safehouse”, which he assured us was 100% safe. Nik wasn’t sure if the Cursebreaker was free or imprisoned in the supposedly “high tech” prison, so he told us we’d figure that out when we got there.

It seemed like a lot, and there was definitely a ton of room for error. 

All you have to do is find the Cursebreaker and remove your own Curse, the selfish part of me said. 

But you can’t just leave Kyle to die when his illness is your fault. 

I pushed the thought away. One problem at a time. My best bet at helping anyone would be to figure out the extent of my own curse because the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. 

Mark had said I needed the lives of others for myself to live, but the only time I’d been anywhere close to dying was when I contracted the pox. And yes, that’s when my touch had suddenly become lethal, but who ended up dying and who didn’t made no sense. My family had touched me numerous times and they were still alive, yet James’s mother had healed me once and suddenly she died. I’d held hands with Kyle for a whole night and he was now in a coma six months. Anton was dying, yet James wasn’t. 

At some point, I must’ve dozed off because I found myself back on the island with Mark. 

He gave a small smile when he saw me, patting the rock beside him. I took a seat, though his little grin unnerved me. The things he’d told me didn’t all line up. 

“You seem excited,” I mumbled. 

Mark gave a shrug but he definitely did seem more enthusiastic than normal. “I think I figured something out.”

He looked so happy, like a little puppy. Still, I wondered how much of what he told me was lies. Was he pulling a James? Or was I just super paranoid after everything? 

“Okay, what did you discover?” 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about why you only kill certain people and why others don’t die.” Was it just a coincidence that I’d been thinking of the same thing? 

“And?”

Mark continued, “What’s something all the people you’ve killed have him common?”

I groaned. Why couldn’t he just tell me instead of making me figure things out? I tried to think, but I kept circling back to the word kill. 

James’s mother. Anton. Kyle. Probably countless others that I could remember. 

When I didn’t answer, Mark gave a bored sigh before beginning his explanation. “Magic, Leila. Magic.” 

I blinked. James’s mother was a healer. Kyle had the Hidden Arts apparently… 

“Anton’s not magical.” 

Mark gave a small chuckle. “He’s a mentalic, actually. Read his journals on the research and discovered that little nugget of info. Doesn’t use his magic much.”

“Oh.” So many thoughts were racing through my head, but one was sticking out more than others. I could safely touch people again. As long as they didn’t have magic, it seemed that they were safe. “Why?” 

He shrugged. “I guess it has something to do with you needing a magical life to support your own.” The reasoning was flimsy but the most logical, plus I didn’t have any other ideas so I let it slide. 

“So,” I continued. “Did you find anything on these new people? I think they called themselves the Shadows…” 

Mark sighed. “I couldn’t find much on them - it hasn’t even been twenty four hours yet. Nik has some sort of past in Miryir - I found a passport. He has no magic. Chelsea has some sort of connections to the Court and also lacks magic. Jonah and Rave are orphaned descendants of a famous magician who lived during my time, and they both have magic. Rave’s is learned, though, so I actually don’t think it’ll affect your … condition. And I couldn’t find anything on Kyle.” 

“Quite the little gossip, aren’t you?” I commented with a laugh, tucking the information into my memory for later. As long as Jonah doesn’t touch me we’ll be fine.

Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted all of this, though.”

We were silent for a while. I could feel myself drift closer to consciousness every once in a while, but somehow I stayed longer on the island. 

“Have you decided to trust me yet?” Mark asked after a long time. 

I gave a small shrug. At this point, there was nothing to gain from hiding it. “After James, don’t I have the right to question your motives?”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” mumbled Mark. “What do you think I lied about?”

I shrugged again, unsure of an exact answer. “Anything that comes out of your mouth could be a lie.”

“What would I gain by having you remove me from your mind?” he asked. He was quiet for another moment before speaking, his voice incredibly soft. “I just want to see my family again.”

Something inside of me cracked. Was I wrong to accuse him? Finding the Cursebreaker wouldn’t benefit Mark in any way that would harm me. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “You’re right, you gain nothing.” 

Mark nodded, but his thoughts seemed elsewhere. “You’re fine, Leila. After how James lied to you, it gives you every right to be suspicious. But I promise you that I just don’t want to see you end up like me.”

I thought for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Wait, if I’m supposedly Curse because I’m not supposed to be alive, doesn’t that mean that the Cursebreaker will just kill me?” 

Mark shook his head. “When your curse is removed, it’ll be like a second chance. You can still live, still save your family … like I couldn’t with mine.” His voice trailed off and he stared longingly out at the sea. 

My consciousness nagged at me, trying to pull me back to the real world. 

This time, when I faded back awake, the picture of Mark - all alone, broken and melancholy - stuck with me. If I wasn’t finding the Cursebreaker for myself or my family, I’d find them for him. He didn’t deserve this. 

Maybe he had killed a bunch of people. Maybe he was partially responsible for my own curse. But he was my family, too. 

Besides, I told myself. If you can end his suffering, it’ll make up for all those terrible things you’ve done. 

Someone was shaking me and when I refused to open my eyes, they slapped me. 

I groaned, turning over in hopes they’d leave me alone. Instead, the person grabbed my arms and rolled me out of bed and onto the floor. 

“I’m going out,” Chelsea hissed at me. “Are you coming with me or not?”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, a bit confused as to why she was asking me. “I think you didn’t trust me.”

Chelsea shoved a handful of fabric at me. “Well today is your lucky day then, because I’ve decided to take someone with me tonight, so you get to prove yourself. Put these on and we’ll head out.”

“Okay,” I responded quickly. Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?” 

Chelsea looked around before stepping closer to me. “Nik doesn’t want me to, but I have to say goodbye to my family. Just in case … just in case I don’t make it back. I’d ask Rave, but she’s still exhausted from the show at the Redemption. And Jonah tells Nik everything.”

I tried not to take it too personally that she’d chosen me as a last resort. But then again, Chelsea trusted me enough to let me come to see her family. 

“Fine,” I decided. “Why are we dressing like …” I held up the clothing to find pitch black garments. “Like criminals?”

Chelsea grinned. “Just get dressed and stop complaining.” 

A few minutes later, I was wearing all black with a tiny dagger sheathed at my hip. I’d told Chelsea I wasn’t leaving without a weapon - especially considering I was now an official fugitive if anyone found out I was alive. She’d lead me to a small cabinet under the sink, which actually opened to an underground cellar filled with all kinds of blades.

“Take this,” Chelsea had said, handing me an almost translucent blade. She noticed my weird look and gave a small smile. “Nik got me a ‘pretty’ weapon hoping it’d encourage me to fight.” She’d given a snort and handed me the blade. “Take good care of it.” 

Chelsea led me behind the cabin to where a skinny, dirt path wound into the woods. 

“We’re about half a mile from the closest border of the city,” she whispered to me. True enough, we arrived at the brick wall that enclosed the city in less than twenty minutes. Chelsea knelt on the ground a pushed delicately on a few of the bricks until they gave way, forming a tiny passageway into the city. We crawled through the hole and Chelsea replaced the bricks. 

“Why didn’t we just take the boat?” I asked her, recalling how I’d gotten to the cabin.
“The river route takes twice as long, plus Nik would notice if the Guppy went missing. C’mon, we’re going this way.” 

The idea that the boat was called the Guppy almost made me laugh but suddenly Chelsea was jogging away and I bolted to keep up with her. 

Whoever had decided to call their little group the Shadows had done a good job of coming up with a name because it was apt. Chelsea and I slipped in and out of the darkness that haunted the streets. 

Lamps lined the roads, but the lights were dimmed to increase “ambiance” for tourists - and to conserve oil. Chelsea’s little entrance had brought us into the very edge of the housing district that bordered the actually larger buildings. We passed by the tiny huts that then shifted to closed stores. 

Chelsea seemed perfectly at home here, she knew exactly where she was going. 

I remembered what Mark had told me about her, that she had some sort of relation to the Court. Was she the daughter of one of the merchants? 

The further we got into the richer district, the brighter the lights became and the more crowded the streets got. It was mostly filled with couples (and probably tourists) trying to take pictures with the Whip. 

During the winter in the Oaysian Republic, temperatures could dip down so low that certain arctic flowers would bloom right before dying. Shopkeepers planted them along the top windows of the houses for good luck, but when the flowers bloomed they also released a strange powder that gave the illusion of a golden river winding through the streets. 

Some people called it the Golden Road, others called it the Path to the After. 

My mother had told us that the weird yellow trail was the Whip because although it was breathtaking, it served as a reminder that beauty came at a cost - in this case, the death of the blossoms. 

Chelsea didn’t seem even the slightest bit fazed and we continued along the cobblestones. At some point, it started to snow and the white flakes piled on our shoulders. I was glad for the black jacket’s warmth, although it probably looked pretty suspicious. Actually, I think Chelsea was attracting more looks. 

With her bright red hair, she was practically calling to be noticed. I pulled my hood over my head and picked up my pace. 

“We’re here,” Chelsea announced only a few minutes later. 

I looked around. We’d stopped at possibly the shortest building in the entire skyscraper section. The front of the house desperately needed a new coat of paint and the railings were sagging off of the steps. 

Chelsea stood on the porch for a few moments and I noticed that her fingers were shaking. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, startling her. 

Chelsea shook her momentary fear and put on a superficial smile. “I’m fine. But, uh, could you wait in the front room?”

I nodded. This was her house, not mine, and I certainly didn’t want to cause any more problems than necessary. 

My first impression of the house: empty. The second; it looked like no one lived here.

Chelsea stepped cautiously into the hallway and I heard a small yelp followed by some shushing. Then muffled voices and I let myself relax, fingers falling away from the dagger’s hilt. 

I could hear soft sobs echoing through the hallways and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. It felt wrong to be standing in here, covered in snow. The whole place smelled like a perfume gone bad. 

The voices got louder until suddenly there were feet pounding down the hallway. 

Chelsea appeared in the front room, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes pink and puffy. I prepared to unsheath my dagger, but she grabbed my arm. 

“Do we need to go?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low. 

Chelsea nodded slightly, her lip wobbling. I led her to the front door and down the steps of the porch as she shook - whether from fear or cold or… 

I had no idea what had happened, but it unnerved me. 

Chelsea immediately set off in a new direction the second we were on the street again. I followed closely behind her, hand resting on my weapon. 

But when she turned, Chelsea walked us right into a graveyard. 

I bit my lip as we wandered through the rows of stone graves, each one engraved with a name, two dates, a crest, and a quote. 

My mother had once told me that graveyards weren’t anything to be afraid of. When the girls on the streets would talk about holding their breath as the ran by, I’d be the one to venture into the stones. It isn’t a haunted ground, my mom had repeated. A graveyard is just where the dead lay to rest. Their souls move on and their bodies become one with the earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

Maybe that was why I wasn’t scared, wandering through the hundreds of graves. I didn’t let myself read the names or the dates. The hair on the back of my neck was standing on end, but I figured it was the cool of the air. 

Finally, Chelsea dropped abruptly in front of me. 

The stone was preserved well, meaning it was new. The crest depicted a sea serpent wrapped around a branch with an apple on the end. Seamus Darkwell, knowledge is the true downfall of man. The dates read roughly six years ago up until about three months ago. 

Chelsea’s brother, I realized with a start. She pressed her forehead against the grave, sobbing silently into her hands, cursing under her breath. 

“Please,” she mumbled to herself, voice cracking. “Seamus, please.” 

I was about to respond, though probably nothing particularly reassuring because I was terrible at that sort of thing, when suddenly I heard footsteps behind us. 

Shock washed over me as the figure laid a bouquet of flowers on one of the stones. He looked up and his pale eyes met mine. His mouth formed my name twice before any sound came out. “Leila?” 

Chelsea didn’t move, and I figured she was too far in shock to do much of anything. 

“Please leave us alone,” I whispered. “James, I can’t do this right now.”

He didn’t stop staring at me, and there wasn’t just hate in his gaze, but remorse and hope and something else I couldn’t identify. 

The flowers dropped from his hands, tumbling across the snowy ground. 

His mouth opened again, and only two words escaped from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Author's Note

Still in the more detail oriented part - more action soon, though!