Marks of the Past - 22

Chapter 22

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Kyle said, though even he couldn’t mask the disgust in his voice as I shovelled down an entire plate of food. 

I looked up at him, mouth full. “Fanks. You du.” 

Both Kyle and the Cursebreaker looked aghast at my lack of manners, but I was too famished to care. Apparently almost dying could give you an appetite. 

They shared a look. 

I’d slept through the night and half of the next day before waking up to the smell of food and a pale boy staring at me from across the room. 

The Cursebreaker - who informed me that his real name was Simon - served me a plate of steaming food that was gone in a matter of minutes. 

I still felt weak and brittle in a way. My exhaustion had faded to a dull headache that pulsed behind my temples but considering I’d pretty much been drained of my life force, I was happy I wasn’t dead. 

I scraped one more spoonful of what I thought was applesauce off the plate before Kyle reached out and snatched it from my hands. 

It was weird to see him up and moving, his eyes open. 

“You keep staring at me,” he noted casually, giving me a wary look. 

I shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you awake. We’ve been toting around your unconscious body for weeks now.”

“Excuse me?” Simon interjected, raising an eyebrow. 

“Did you explain anything to him?” I asked. “Wait, how much do you know?” After all, Kyle had been unconscious for months now. Did he have any idea who I was? 

Kyle gave a sigh. “I know who you are, Leila, if that’s what you were asking.” 

“Yes, but how? You were asleep the whole time.” 

A shrug. “It’s hard to explain.” 

I stared at him, not satisfied with that result. Simon was giving a similar glare and Kyle sighed. 

“Fine. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I think my Hidden Arts allowed me to take the form of a ghost. I followed Nik around for the entire six months that my physical body was unconscious. Happy?”

“No,” I decided. “You’re telling me that of all the people you could’ve haunted, you chose Nik? And I thought the Hidden Arts dealt with the dead, and you weren’t dead.”

“I’m still lost!” Simon offered unhelpfully. 

Kyle gave me a dark look. “When I … when my brother first died, I tried to bring him back. The best I could do was summon his ghost, but he didn’t want to talk to me - he wanted to talk to Nik. I let them meet once and then Nik wanted to talk to Kaleb every week and then every day. My magic couldn’t take the strain which is why I went into the coma. I guess that my magic made a natural connection to Nik.”

“No,” I interrupted. 

“No?” 

I shook my head, inspecting my hands and hoping Kyle wouldn’t hate me. “I’m the reason that you were in the coma.”

I found myself explaining everything - for Kyle’s - but mostly Simon’s - benefit. The story poured from me like a dam that had been breached and I explained that I’d been able to see Mark from a young age. I told them how I’d grown up as an outcast and eventually been arrested because of my scar. Talking about James and how much he and Anton had done for me made my stomach churn with guilt but I forced myself to explain what his motives were. Kyle knew most of my time with the Shadows - though he was intrigued by Mark's appearances.

Simon interrupted me when I started talking about curses and informed me that I wasn’t cursed. I’d given him a look of confusion and he’d explained that he could sense curses as a peculiar form of magic that no one quite knew what to do with. I’d never been cursed - Mark had been stealing lives through me from the very beginning. I added it to the list of lies he’d told me, which was growing admittedly longer.  

When I finally finished, both boys stared at me with equal expressions of confusion. 

Kyle breathed out a sigh of disbelief. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Nik’s fault.” 

Yes, I wanted to say. It was mine. 

But my pride wouldn’t allow another hit so I stayed quiet and hoped someone would take the conversation elsewhere. 

Luckily, Simon seemed to hear my silent plea. “So, there’s just some murderous king from the last century out there running around now?” 

I shrugged. “Well, when you put it that way…” 

“What does Mark even want?” Kyle asked me, rubbing his temples in a mannerism that reminded me of Nik. 

A good question - one I didn’t exactly have an answer to. “I dunno - everything he said was a lie to me.” And I couldn’t help but hate him for that. “What could a formerly dead king possibly want?” 

“Revenge,” suggested Simon. 

“No,” Kyle interrupted. “I know what he’s planning. It’s a thought I’d wager that every magician with the Hidden Arts has had.” He looked straight at me, his eyes lacking the warmth that the Shadows had assured me was there. “As Leila worded nicely - the Hidden Arts allows one to blur the lines between life and death. What Mark wants to do is remove them entirely.” 

“Is training really necessary?” I grumbled. “Don’t we have better things to do? Like find me some clothes that fit? No offense, but I don’t trust Simon with that.” 

Kyle and Simon had chosen a random suburban house to call home during their stay in the Republic. Both of them knew their way around the streets relatively well, and yet they’d still forgotten to get food, fresh clothing, and any weapons whatsoever. 

So while Simon was sent out to buy all of that stuff, that left me to practice the Hidden Arts with Kyle. And he was less than pleased with the arrangement. 

“Training is necessary because we have a little under a week before Mark will be strong enough to start claiming more lives than he needs to keep him alive. In that time we have to rescue the Shadows and kill him before then,” Kyle said, pushing the couches aside. 

I scoffed. “That’s not much.”

“You’ve been in James’s mansion - so you tell me exactly how much security he’ll have hired now that you’ve escaped.” 

“Good point, but maybe I can convince him that he should help us.” 

“Ah, because the last time you tried to negotiate with him it went super well.” 

“To be fair, he’s stabbed me in the leg before so I think that threatening to kill everyone I’ve ever cared about is a step up.”

“Oh? Did he really threaten to hurt himself then?”

I blushed when I realized what Kyle was implying. The boy sent me a knowing look and I stuck out my tongue, wishing I could toss a chair at his head. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that we have to be practical,” Kyle sighed when the couch finally was pushed against the wall and the floor of the room was as clear as possible. “James isn’t going to be willing to sit down and talk so we have to assume the worst.”

I knew he was right, but … “What happened to the other you?”

“The other me?” 

“Yeah. The Shadows told me that you used to be all fun and games. Jonah said you were a booknerd - and I know that’s true because you told James’s mother that.”

Kyle gave a bitter laugh. “I’m surprised you remember that day. I certainly don’t.”

“It’s hard to forget when you’ve killed someone.” Hard when every time I slept I saw their faces. And now Aron’s face was there too. I could be executed for assassinating a prince. 

“You’re right, though,” Kyle said at last, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve changed. Death does that to you. How are the Shadows, by the way? It’s been so long …” his voice trailed off. 

“They’re fine,” I said, but it felt like a lie. The alternative was locked in a house of a crazy person and probably dying because of me, though that seemed insensitive. “Rave misses you.” 

A small blush crept to Kyle’s cheeks. Finally something I could use against him. 

He shook his head, shifting right back into serious mode. “Have you ever used the Hidden Arts on purpose before?”

I shook my head, only because I knew Kyle wouldn’t let up until I gave in to him. “I was too afraid to try after Mark told me about my curse.” 

Kyle gave a knowing nod. “The Hidden Arts aren’t something you should be scared of.” 

“Are you telling me that the first time you summoned a ghost, you were never scared?” I asked. 

“Nope, but my mother was absolutely terrified when she found me playing with ghosts instead of the other boys from the village.” There was a small gleam in his eyes that felt as though it still remained from the “old him”. 

“I can only imagine,” I laughed. The sound startled Kyle and for a moment he looked genuinely scared before the automatic shift back to the grave expression. 

He adjusted his posture and pose, straightening up and holding his arms out in front of him almost as if he was bracing for a punch. I stifled another laugh and Kyle frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you really have to do that little pose to summon a ghost?” 

Kyle sighed. “The Hidden Arts isn’t just summoning the dead, Leila. It’s about-” 

“Blurring the lines between life and death, yes, I know,” I mumbled.

I got a small smile in response. “Since we’re starting with no experience whatsoever, I’m just going to go over the basics, alright?” 

And we did. It was incredibly boring and by the end I was either going to strangle myself or Kyle. Whoever had taught him had obviously done so over the course of years - which surprised me since magic was all but illegal in Miryir. 

Whatever the case, Kyle seemed to forget that I had less than a week to learn this and spent more time explaining the complex routines that I was supposed to use to increase the intensity and all kinds of other nonsense. He lectured me on the proper poses and how to draw energy from the air but I started drifting off about halfway through and missed most of it. 

I was startled awake when he slammed his hands down on the floor, frustration evident on his features. 

“Can’t you at least try to listen?” he groaned. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just don’t learn by someone telling me how to do something. I have to try it.”

Kyle thought for a moment. “Fine. Try to summon a ghost right now.”

A test. He was seeing if I had actually paid any attention, seeing how much talent I actually had. 

My hands were shaking as I got to my feet. I’d never tried to summon anything for the purpose of simply seeing it. To be fair, I hadn’t really summoned anything in the first place - just called upon Mark to help me. 

I tried to imitate Kyle’s previous stances, holding my arms out in front of my face and keeping my legs braced. I let my mind wander, searching for the cold feeling I’d begun to associate with the dead. When my mind brushed over it, I pulled hard. The coldness darted away and I stumbled backwards with nothing to show for it. 

A small smirk appeared on Kyle’s face. I wanted to slap him for it. No one ever did something on their first try. 

“Exactly what Hidden Arts have you done besides everything with Mark?” he asked me. 

I didn’t know what all the Hidden Arts entailed, so it took me a while to think of anything weird that had happened. “There was this one time with Nik when we were walking together. He was kind of loopy but Mark told me later that I’d been stealing his logic or something.”

Kyle was quiet for a moment. “Mimicry isn’t part of the Hidden Arts.”

“Of course it isn’t,” I grumbled, sinking back to the floor. “I’m guessing that means that was all Mark?”

More silence. Then, “Maybe not, though. I mean, obviously Mark is an extremely powerful magician if he was able to wipe out almost an entire city. But if you’re his descendant, that means some of that power has trickled down to you.”

“Thanks, but how do I turn it off.”

“Off? Magic isn’t something that can be triggered by a switch, Leila.” 

I knew that already, but … “I was just wondering if, I dunno, there was any way that you could remove magic or something.”

Kyle seemed confused. “Why would you want to?”

Because it had turned the Republic against me. Because I didn’t want the burden of living my life with everyone knowing I was a descendant of Mark and living in fear. Because I didn’t want to hurt people every time I touched them. 

“I wasn’t raised with the magic, Kyle. Believe it or not, I’d rather lead a normal life with my family than be stuck as an outcast forever.”

“That’s understandable, but…”

I met his eyes, feeling the rage burning in my stomach. But as much as I wanted to yell, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to Kyle. We’d just met and I was already putting his life in danger just by being near him. I forced down the words I wanted to say and stared at my hands. 

“You would let me know if there was a way to end the magic, right?” I asked him. 

“The magic isn’t a curse, it’s a blessing…”

I looked up at him, for once not questioning my own opinion on the matter. “It’s all in how you look at it. The magic is a gift for you, but for me, it ruined my entire life.”

Just when I was sure that Simon had ditched us, he returned out of breath with his arms draped with bags. 

“You're an hour late,” Kyle noted. “It doesn’t take that long to go to the grocer’s.”

Simon didn’t even look flustered. “I had things to take care of that were none of your business. It took longer than anticipated.” 

As I helped unpack the bags of food, I made a point to work right beside Simon. “You went to see your parents, didn’t you?” I kept my voice quiet in case Simon didn’t want Kyle to know, but he didn’t seem to care. 

“I did. And I went to see Seamus. Did Chelsea tell you about them?”

I nodded. “A little bit. We visited Seamus too. And her parents. She never mentioned you, though.” 

Simon gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t. I left home when I turned eighteen - tried to start a new life as a merchant. It … It didn’t go well. You know how it is, I presume. Big dreams, all squished by reality. I had to use some of my parents’ money to support myself.” 

“It was a harsh winter,” I guessed and Simon nodded, closing his eyes. In that moment alone he looked so much like Chelsea that it was a bit unnerving. “Do they really blame you?”

“My parents? They’re not … okay anymore. I mean, would you be? I ran off and disappeared to Miryir - and my parents knew about my magic so they assumed I would die. Chelsea ran away probably not long after, she wasn’t there when I went to say goodbye. And Seamus …” He blew out a breath. “Chelsea blames me, though. I know she does.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. 

“I’m sure she can find it in her heart to forgive you,” I muttered, but the words seemed empty to even me. 

Simon laughed again. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure she won’t have anything to say to me the next time we meet.” He was quiet for a moment, and his voice was filled with regret when he spoke again. “The thing is, we were really close as kids. My parents encouraged science and all that  but both Chelsea and I loved chemistry more than anything. We used to make our own brews and try to sell them at the street corners like glasses of lemonade.”

“See, I’m sure Chelsea loved you and she probably still does.”

Simon shook his head. “That’s the thing about being close with someone, it always hurts harder when you lose them.”

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long to upload this, I was really struggling to write the conversations out. There's a lot of info I thought I shared previously but couldn't find by skimming so let me know if any of the details are inaccurate or something has already been explained. Enjoy!