Inception (The Marked Book 1) (11 page)

Trace took my other hand and jerked me back beside him. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

I blinked into him.

What the hell was he doing? Didn’t he know Dominic? Hadn’t he told me to stay away from him not even a week ago? Why would he warn me about someone he’s never even met before?

He must have been going off of hear-say, I decided. So apparently introductions were in order.

“Um, Trace, this is Dominic.” I gestured over to him awkwardly and then went back the other way. “Dominic, this is Trace.”

Neither one extended their hand.

“Right. So, anyway,” I turned back to Trace. “You don’t need to drive me home after all. Dominic offered to take me.” As much as I wanted to be around him—felt safer with him near me—the situation had not changed. Trace was unavailable. “It’s probably for the best,” I added, ticking my head towards the back where Nikki was sitting with the rest of our friends.

His jaw muscle tightened as his eyes moved from me to Dominic. “Excuse us.” The words on their own were polite, but his tone was anything but. He pulled me over to the bar, away from Dominic, though he was still very much in earshot of us.

“I don’t like this,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d feel better if I took you home myself.”

“I’ll be fine with Dominic. Besides,” I said, lowering my voice. “Nikki’s sitting right there. I’m not about to piss her off on purpose.”

He looked back at Dominic with disgust. “What do you even know about him?”

I shrugged. The truth was, I didn’t know any more about Dominic than I did of Trace, or even Taylor for that matter, but that wasn’t stopping me from talking to either of them. I was new in town, after all, it was to be expected.

“I think that’s the purpose of getting to know someone,” I pointed out. “So unless there’s something specific you think I should know...” I gave him a couple seconds to answer. When he didn’t, I went on, “I’m not going to have this pointless conversation again.”

He exhaled loudly, jaw pumping again. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yes your phone.”

I took it out from my handbag and handed it over.

“If anything happens, or you need something…” He looked at me strangely. “A ride or
whatever
,” he added, tapping the screen in rapid succession. “You have my number.”

“Okay.” I took the phone back apprehensively.

He looked over Dominic once more as though sending him some sort of silent warning and then nodded at me before walking off into the kitchen. I immediately saw Nikki jump up from my peripheral and take off running after him.

Just perfect.

She must have been gawking at us the entire time, and if she just witnessed him giving me his number, there was no doubt in my mind she was about to go tear him a new one. And, God only knows what she was going to have planned for me.

The night was still cloaked in a thin layer of dew when we left All Saints. The sky, a rich, dark indigo, was free of any blemishes and gleaming with a million little blinking lights of reassurance. Ironically, it was shaping up to be a picture-perfect night, despite everything that had transpired.

I followed Dominic alongside the building until he stopped unexpectedly in front of a Matte black Audi R8. He pulled something out of his pocket and pushed a button. The car responded on all fronts.

“What’s this?” I asked him, surprised, my eyes darting back and forth between him and the wicked ride.

“This would be my car.” His smile went up a notch as he moved to the passenger side and opened my door. “I thought it appropriate seeing as you don’t enjoy walking very much.”

“Walking
at night
,” I quickly corrected, shrinking inward. I knew he would think I was lazy for protesting the walk home the other night.

“Isn’t that what I said?” he grinned seductively, blurring out the rest of the world with that one little gesture.

I bit down a smile and climbed into the car.

The smell of expensive leather mingled in the air with Dominic’s tantalizing cologne—a chocolaty musk—and enveloped me like a luxurious blanket. I barely had a chance to buckle myself in before we were zipping out of the parking lot and tearing down the blacktop road towards the main boulevard.

“So tell me more about this incident,” he asked casually as though he were asking about the weather in passing.

I examined him as he drove.

“You seem to be quite incident-prone,” he continued when I didn’t answer. “I’m beginning to question your safety.”

I too was beginning to question my safety.
Daily
.

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “If it’s any consolation, I plan on making use of that whole buddy system from here on out.” That part was the truth. I had no intentions of going anywhere alone at night, ever again. The thought alone made me shudder.

He stole a glance before returning his eyes to road. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Jemma.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, caught off guard.

“You put on a brave face, and a beautiful one at that,” he said without averting his eyes from the road. “But I have a feeling you would not have left work in the middle of your shift had the incident been as uneventful as you would like me to believe it was.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

A slow spreading grin appeared. “I’m very intuitive.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He was definitely charming. “Really, it was just a slow night,” I explained, choosing my words carefully. “Plus, Paula the other waitress was there, and they really didn’t need the both of us.”

“I see.” He shifted in his seat.

“You know her, right? Paula Dawson?” I asked, curious to see if he’d tell me the truth.

His cheek pulled up on one side. “I do.”

“Didn’t you guys date for a while?” I tried feigning nonchalance though my voice hitched up unnaturally at the tail end of the question.

“Yes, I enjoyed her company on a few occasions, though I’d hardly classify that as dating.”

“Right. Okay.” I was trying to be tactful with my inquisition, but the questions just seeped from my mouth like verbal diarrhea. “So...what would you classify it as then?”

“Inconsequential,” he said without missing a beat.

Both his tone and demeanor were detached, unemotional even. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the other hand, I had no reason to doubt that he was being anything but honest with me, however brutal that was for poor Paula.

I skimmed my neck with my fingertips as I thought it over and noted how incredibly sore I still was. I pulled down the sun visor and stole a peak in the mirror, quickly spotting the sickening color of purple my neck was taking on.

Perfect
. How on earth was I going to explain this one away? I tripped and fell on a vampire?

And then it hit me.
That
was the reason Dominic looked at my neck...because it was bruising. Clearly that would have been the logical thing to assume since my neck had just been squeezed to the point of a near larynx dislocation. Jeez, what the heck did I think the reason was going to be anyway?

I closed the visor and relaxed into my seat a little.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Great,” I lied. I needed to change the subject. “So, there’s this party next Saturday,” I heard myself say. “It’s a house party for some Spring thing.”

He flashed a crooked grin. “Spring Fling.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“What of it, love?” He was smirking now.

I was hoping he wouldn’t actually make me say the words but it appeared that he was enjoying watching me squirm way too much to save me from myself. “Well, being that I’m incident-prone and all,” I said, using his word. “I was wondering if maybe, you know, you’d like to come along...with me?”

The minute the words relayed back to my ears, I winced at them, proving once more I was only a passenger in my own vessel. Desperation, fear, longing—they had all taken the driver’s seat and were apparently asking guys out now. Who was I kidding? I’d probably ask out the entire hockey team if it meant I’d be safe from vampires. At least this option would allow me to spend more time with Dominic.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.” I felt my cheeks warm. “I’m pretty sure I never said
date
, I mean...did I? I was just thinking we could—”

“We definitely could.” He cut in with a smirk before I could further embarrass myself. “I’m looking forward to it, angel.”

13. FRIDAY NIGHT LIES

The days following the attack blurred into one another like one long, tangled dream that obliterated any residual semblance of security I might have had left. I found myself hiding in an uncomplicated routine of sorts as I shuffled back and forth between work, school, and home. Long, dragging days broken up only by the finer moments when I’d get to see Dominic.

I had decided not to tell my uncle about the attack last week out of fear that he would use it as another excuse to push the whole Slayer
thing
down my throat. I had already told him emphatically that I had no intention of going down that road, and my feelings on that had not changed—attack, or no attack.

But it appeared that even adamant refusal was not enough to deter my uncle from his mission. Where other men might have laid the issue to rest, my uncle instead continued to offer his reassurance that I would have as much time as I needed to come to terms with all of this. As though
time
were the problem here. Clearly he was unable to cope with rejection.

Not only was he not dropping the subject of Bloodsuckers and Slayers, but as chance would have it, he was also after a little bit of my blood himself. It was all I could do to stop from leering at him like his neck had spewed two heads overnight when he sat across the table from me at breakfast and casually asked me to provide him with a sample of blood. So he could run some tests. Like it was a completely normal request. 

When I asked him why, he hesitated to explain himself, and only stated that he wanted to be sure my bloodlines weren’t damaged, and that I was in fact a
Slayer
.

“I don’t understand,” I said, feeling as though this was coming out of left field. “What about everything you told me last week—about the Angels, and us being Descendants of them? Was all of that a lie?”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted the answer to be.

“Of course not.”

“So why do you need to test my blood?”

“Because of the Cloaking Spell,” he said, peeling off his glasses and setting them down on the table. “We need to run some tests to make sure nothing’s been permanently altered before we even attempt to lift the Cloak. Should you allow us, of course.”

“Altered? Is that even a possibility?” I asked, stupidly. If he wanted to test my blood to see if it had been altered, obviously, altering was a possibility.

His regretful eyes confirmed what I had already figured.

“Okay. So how long until we can actually undo the spell?”

“Well it’s not quite that simple. As I explained before, spells cannot be undone.”

“Then how are we going to remove the Cloak?”

“Our best recourse right now is to find the
talisman
. The Caster who created the Cloak most likely tied the spell to one. If the talisman is found and destroyed, then so is the spell.”

“Oh.” Interesting. “Like a magical kill switch?”

“Precisely.”

Friday night, Taylor arrived at my house in her pristine-white convertible Beetle shortly after nightfall. Her wavy blond locks were pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she was sporting a denim mini with a black and purple letterman jacket. She could have easily stood in as one of the official Bulldog cheerleaders (or Ice Girls as they prefer to be called), and no one would have been the wiser.

We took our time heading across town. Perhaps a little too much because by the time we arrived, the school parking lot at Easton Prep looked like a patchwork quilt of shimmering metal. I’d never seen so many cars crammed together in one place before, except maybe at a concert once. Taylor didn’t seem to bat a lash as she jumped in behind a stream of other cars that began parking in messy rows right there on the grass as though it were a perfectly appropriate alternative. 

According to Taylor, the Weston Bulldogs and Easton Wildcats were longtime rivals, and so it really wasn’t surprising that a game between the two would draw out this many people. Especially a game where the widely known star forward was making his first post-injury appearance back on the ice.

I followed Taylor into the arena as we made our way down the grandstands of what appeared to be the visitors side, and sat down in the lower mid-section next to Ben who had saved a couple of seats for us. Nikki, Morgan and Hannah were there too, though I noted it was Morgan who was sitting next to Trace, and not Nikki. Apparently, they were still on the outs since the incident at All Saints.

As per usual, Nikki didn’t waste a chance to show her hatred for me with a flaming scowl as she barked out something along the lines of, “Who the
bleep
invited her?”

I resisted the urge to chuck my cell phone at her head though I could practically feel my palms itching for it. I turned to Taylor instead. “Where’s Carly?” I asked upon noticing her absence from the group.

“On the ice,” she ticked her chin to the rink where the Ice Girls were skating. “She’s a Bulldog.”

“We all are,” leaned in Hannah. “But after Nikki got put on suspension, we decided to strike in support of her.”

“Oh, that’s...”
so freaking stupid
. “Nice.”

Taylor gave me a crafty side look that let me know she wasn’t part of that debacle. She rarely ever was.

“We’re petitioning the administration for a hearing,” continued Hannah. Her eyes glistened as she stared out onto the ice longingly. “Hopefully we can all be back out there soon.”

Something told me she wouldn’t be the one to make that call. In fact, something told me Hannah rarely ever made decisions about what she would or wouldn’t be doing. 

I offered a sympathetic smile and then focused back in on Carly and the other girls as they skated around the ice waving at the crowd in an effort to get them amped for the game.

Across the rink, the Wildcat Girls were getting ready to put on their own show in matching brown, white and orange outfits accompanied by their official mascot—some unfortunate guy dressed in an adult sized wildcat costume—also in coordinated school colors.

“There’s Caleb!” squealed Taylor. Oddly enough, she really seemed to be into this. Or maybe she was into him. I wasn’t sure yet.

“Where?” I asked, only mildly interested.

“Owens,” she pointed to center ice. “Thirty-Six.”

“Owens? Like, Carly Owens?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “They’re twins. Didn’t I mention that?”

“I don’t think so.” I hardly noticed a resemblance. Well, apart from the chestnut hair. And maybe the pouty lips.

She went on to wave at a dark-haired guy sitting a few rows below us. He was staring up at her adoringly.

“He’s cute,” I noted. Maybe he was one of
hers
.

“Dillon Walker. Biggest scumbag ever,” she said as soon as he wasn’t looking. “That’s his pregnant girlfriend waddling up over there,” she said pointing to an extremely pregnant sophomore girl. “And that’s the skank he screws from Easton when his girlfriend’s not around,” she added, pointing to another scantily clad girl only a few seats away from him.

“Gross.” Guys like that needed to come with warning labels.

The cool air bit against my skin as I focused back on the ice, waiting for the game to start. I tried not to notice the smokestacks that were bleeding from my nose every time I took a breath as it only forced me to pay greater attention to the profound level of freezing I was experiencing. It was becoming increasingly more difficult as each minute passed.

“Watch your mouth!” I heard someone yell.

The crowd to our right suddenly broke out into a scuffle, distracting me from my plight. Bodies from several rows jostled around as fists flew rapidly through the virgin air. I heard the girls screeching out in distress as the crowd collectively spread itself apart, distancing themselves from the commotion.

A few odd strays piled into the brawl, though after a few moments, we could see the Johnny-come-lately's were actually trying to break the fight apart, and not partake in it.

“What the hell happened?” I asked nobody specific.

“Trace got into it with two kids from Easton,” answered Hannah who had somehow ended up behind Taylor and me.

I craned my neck to get a better look as the angry mob began settling down. I could see Trace shaking off a pair of (what looked like) friendly hands, as another man pulled the other two guys in the opposite direction. One of them was bleeding from his nose and walked away willingly though the other one was a lot less eager to leave. He turned around and grinned in our direction, proudly flashing the nasty cut above his right eye.

“Stupid boys,” said Taylor as she tied her hair in a ponytail. “Can’t live with them.”

I waited for her to add the,
can’t live without them
part, but she didn’t.

I relaxed back into my place, bouncing a final glance down the line to Trace who also had his own little accolade settling in—a busted bottom lip, though not too bad for a two-on-one.

His piercing blue eyes locked in on me, hardening with what looked like anger, before averting back to the ice.

If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought he just openly glared at me.

The night wasn’t a total bust. After three intense periods of play, a decent intermission performance by both squads, and a stellar performance from the star-player himself, Weston took home the victory with a demoralizing 7-2 win over Easton. The stands roared with cheers as we rose in a standing ovation that I only participated in to get a better view of the nearest exit.

As soon as the arena started to clear out, we quickly swapped our seats for the parking lot where we hung around and waited for Carly and Caleb to round out the rest of the group. I sat on the hood of Taylor’s beetle, listening as Ben went on about an after-party going on at some girl’s house from Easton, and I could already tell Taylor was into it.

I immediately started devising a plan to get out of it.

Carly showed up shortly after still dressed in full cheer attire. After making a few rounds in the parking lot, she piled into Nikki’s red jeep along with Morgan and Hannah and headed off to the Easton party together. And they weren’t alone. More than half the cars had already cleared out.

“Who am I riding with?” asked Ben, looking directly at Taylor as he walked back over to us with Trace.

“Obviously with the person you came with, genius,” replied Taylor as she fetched her keys from her purse.

“Trace isn’t going.”

“Great,” said Taylor, throwing her keys back in her purse. “I guess you’re riding with us, which means we’re stuck here waiting for Caleb.” She wasn’t happy, and she was about to get even more unhappy.

“Don’t be mad,” I said, turning to her with regret. “But I’m not going either. I promised my uncle I’d be home right after the game. He already texted me,” I said holding up my phone. Both were lies. I was
so
going to hell.

“What? You can’t be serious!” Taylor’s bottom lip sulked out. “This totally sucks.”

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow at Carly’s party,” I assured her, though I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to that one either. “We’ll have a great time.”

“We better,” she warned, letting me know she wasn’t going to be as forgiving with that one. Her smile quickly returned. “Alright, get in. Let’s see if we can get you home before curfew without breaking any laws.” The girl loved a challenge.

“Hold up,” said Ben. “That doesn’t make any sense. Trace should take Jemma home. He’s already going that way.”

I glanced over at Trace who looked annoyed with Ben’s offer.

“You’re going home anyway,” said Ben, shrugging. “You can drop her off on your way home. That way the rest of us can go straight to the party.” He nodded into it as if to persuade him.

Trace looked over at me, musing as he grazed his busted lip with the tip of his tongue. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Done,” said Ben, turning to Taylor. “Let’s roll.”

“Jemma?” she raised her brows, awaiting my approval.

“Yes. Go. Have fun! I’ll be fine with Trace.”

I think.