Inception (The Marked Book 1) (25 page)

“You couldn’t handle a goddamn handlebar let alone Dominic Huntington.” There wasn’t a thread of humor in her words. “I have enough going on without the added distraction of having to worry about whether you’re safe, too.”

I hadn’t considered that. But still—

“Put the necklace back on
now
. I’m not going to ask you again, so help me God.” The homicidal twitch in her left eye really drove home the point.

I slipped the necklace back on and cowered into my seat before she could say another word to me.

She turned her attention back to Gabriel, cornering him in the kitchen. “I need you in on this with me.” Her voice was low, stringently even. “This is our chance, Gabriel. Our one shot.”

He shook his head. “It’s
suicide
.”

“Not if we go in it together,” she insisted.

He still looked unsure.

“We’re holding all the cards right now. He’s been tracking me for weeks for a reason. He’s scared to make a move. All we have to do is make it first.”

“Get him before he gets you,” he noted, crossing his arms.

“Exactly. He’ll never see it coming.” Her mouth took on a diabolical curl. “I’ll lead him to an isolated location outside of town, make him think he’s got me cornered and that I’m out there all alone. He won’t be able to resist. He’ll show himself and we’ll be waiting to take him out when he does.”

Gabriel considered it. “That could work.”

“It
will
work. It has to.” She took a step closer to him and raised her hand as though she were going to touch him but then decided against it. “I’m tired of running, Gabriel. This is my chance, my way out, but I need you. I need you in on this with me. Will you do it? Will you help me?”

“Yes.” He answered without the slightest hesitation or concern for his own well-being. “Whatever you need. Whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

31. DETAINED

“You’re late, Miss Blackburn,” croaked Mr. Gillman as I strolled into detention Tuesday afternoon. “Surely you appreciate the irony given your current circumstance.”

I glanced up at the wall clock. “Sorry,” I muttered, sitting down in the first seat by the door.

“As I was communicating erstwhile your interruption,” continued Mr. Gillman. “I have a prior engagement that requires my immediate attention, however, I will return periodically to check in on you. I expect silence in my absence and will not hesitate to further extend your punishment should any of you feel the need to leave the room without permission.” He picked up his briefcase and gave one final look around the near-empty room. “Questions?”

I shook my head and watched as he whisked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Curious, I glanced over my shoulder to get a better look at my cellmates and immediately spotted Trace in the back corner of the room. Our eyes met briefly, once again igniting those irritating butterflies in my abdomen. I straightened out, opting to lay my head on my desk and indulge in some much needed R&R rather than contend with the pesky swarm in my belly.

Less than a minute later, I heard a chair pull out behind me followed by a gentle poke on the back of my shoulder. I held my breath as I twisted around and found Trace sitting in the desk behind me. His dimples pressed in on both sides, though there was no real smile accompanying them.

“Hey,” he said, sounding weary.

“Look at you, breaking all your own rules again.”

The edge of his mouth curved up slightly.

It was no secret that Trace wanted to spend as little time with me as possible for reasons that were still unclear to me. The funny thing is, between work, school, our circle of friends, and the fact that he was increasingly finding reasons to come talk to me, we probably spent more time together than anyone else in our group.

“What are you in here for?” he asked, tapping his thumb against the desk as he openly examined me.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Started a gang, beat up a few kids from Easton. You?”

“Same.”

I laughed, thinking it probably wasn’t that far from the truth.

He shifted his attention to the other two guys sitting in detention with us. The dark-haired one was scribbling something down in his notebook, possibly sketching, and the other one had his earphones on and was bobbing his head back and forth listening to his music.

“Heard you’re going to the dance with Caleb.” His voice was quiet now, almost as though he were working hard to subdue it.

“As friends,” I clarified. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to specify that part.

He leaned in towards me. “Does he know that?”

“Of course he does.”

His eyebrows dipped with doubt. 

“I mean, I
think
he does. Why? Did he say something?”

“Not really.” He pushed back in his chair, rocking on its hind legs. “He just likes to get under my skin.”

“Under
your
skin?”

“Yeah.”

“Meaning?” There was a strange undertone I couldn’t ignore. It sounded a lot like jealousy.

“Nothing. Forget it.” He shrugged it off but I couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw.

“O-kay.” I dropped it, sensing he wasn’t going to elaborate. Plus, I had more important things to ask him. “So, um, who are you going to the dance with?” I asked choppily. My attempt at sounding casual was a miserable failure.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not going?”

“Nope.” He cocked his head to the side and watched me.

“Why not? I mean, isn’t this thing supposed to be sort of a big deal around here?”

“You’re spending too much time with Taylor.”

I laughed outright because that was exactly who I’d gotten my intel from. Serves me right.

“Besides,” he continued, glancing down at my lips. “The girl I wanted to take is already going with someone else.”

My insides pinched.

Even though my instincts were to assume he was referring to Nikki, I couldn’t stop myself from replaying all the things Taylor said to me the other day. That he looked at me in a special way; that he liked me. I felt the knots in my stomach tighten as my silent hope ignited.

“That’s too bad.”

His eyes flickered down to my mouth again, this time lingering on them as though he were trying to memorize their shape. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah.” My voice was a disappointed whisper. “Probably.”

He dragged his eyes back up to mine. “I’ve been thinking about that
trip
we talked about the other day.”

Trip
? What trip?

“I decided to take you.”

My eyes swelled. Oh my God, he was talking about time traveling—to see my
dad
. “But what about the um…obstacles?”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“And the…risks?”

“I’ve weighed them out.”

“Are you for real?”

His magnetic dimples flashed as he nodded.

“When?”

“I was thinking Friday night,” he said, working his jaw.

I shot him an irritated look. “Very funny. Friday night is the dance.”

He leaned in close again, this time throwing off my concentration with the comely scent of his cologne. “I know.”

“Why Friday?”

“Why not Friday?”

“Are you trying to stop me from going to the dance with Caleb?” I asked, only half-serious.

“Maybe,” he said, still leaning in close to me. “Or maybe I’m just available that night.” He licked his lips like an invitation.

I pulled back, not wanting to lose complete focus.
Again
. “Is that really the only time we can do this?”

Wait a minute. Why was I arguing? This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see my father again. Who cares about the stupid dance? Crap.
Taylor cares
, I reminded myself. I didn’t know how well she was going to take it when I told her—

“How about tomorrow?” he asked, letting me off the hook before I could concede. I couldn’t help but notice the discontent in his expression. Or was it sadness?

I didn’t have time to decode it.

“Tomorrow’s good,” I nodded. I couldn’t believe this was going to happen. I was going to see my dad again! What would I say to him? What would I wear? The excitement sizzled through every cell in my being. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

The school parking lot looked eerily empty—deserted, grayed out from the overcast of swollen clouds. The wind picked up speed as I scanned the lot for Henry, whom I was sure I’d mentioned my after school detention to, but there was no sign of him anywhere. The only cars left were Trace’s blue Mustang on the far left, and an old rusty van about twenty feet out.

Weird
, I thought, as I searched my bag for my cell phone.

“Hey, excuse me, miss.” A young woman with pixie blond hair hopped out of the van and started towards me. “We’re kind of lost,” she laughed, scratching the side of her face as she bounced a quick glance at the parked van. “Do you think you could point us in the right direction?” 

I adjusted my schoolbag. “It depends where you’re trying to go. I’m still kind of new in town myself.”

“We’re trying to get to this place called, uh—” She turned back to the van. “Babe, what’s it called again?”

A dark haired man with a serious five o’clock shadow slithered from around the side of the van. “Place is called All Saints,” he answered, taking a drag of his cigarette. It sounded as though he had some kind of accent. Or throat cancer.

“You’re pretty far,” I noted. “You’ll need to get back on the throughway and head east towards town.”

“Is that right?” She scratched her neck again and leaned in closer. Her blotchy skin looked as though it could use a generous helping of foundation. “You mind jotting it down for us on our map over there? Bobby’s not too good with directions.”

I looked back at
Bobby
who offered a slight smile.

Something about them seemed...off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Sure, I guess,” I said without moving. “But I should probably go get my friend. He’s lived here much longer than me and can probably give you better directions.”

“You wouldn’t mind? That would really help us out.”

“It’s no problem,” I smiled and stepped back. Giving them one final look over, I turned and headed back towards the student entrance. Something inside me was telling me to make a run for it but I chose to ignore it, fearful of what I would look like to them if I did.

Besides, it was daytime. They obviously weren’t Revenants so what was I so worried about anyway?

Before I could answer myself, I felt something crash against the back of my head, knocking me to the ground on all fours. A strange taste entered the back of my throat—metallic in nature—nauseating me with its flavor. Stunned, I rolled onto my backside and looked up at the woman as she tossed a fat rock to the side.
What the hell just happened
? Did she hit me with that? I felt disoriented, tired, like I could sleep for a hundred years and still never be rested enough.

She bent over me, snatching my arms up with her wet, clammy hands. “Grab her legs,” she yelled, and Bobby did.

Suddenly I was suspended in the air being carried away towards the van.
The van
. Oh God, they were going to throw me in there. Kidnap me; hurt me; do heaven knows what to me.

I started kicking and thrashing my legs, bucking relentlessly until they could no longer contain my body. Bobby dropped my legs first and ran back to the van as I fought to free my hands. He reemerged from the side door yielding something, but it was only when he stepped out of the shadows that I caught sight of the knife.

“Help!” My frenetic scream exploded in the air like a gunshot. “Someone, please help me!”

“Don’t just stand there,” yelled the blond, struggling to maintain control. “Help me get her in the van, you idiot!”

Bobby ran back to us at full speed, his eyes wild with intention. “Get up!” he ordered, pointing the knife at me.

As soon as he was close enough, I slammed my foot into his knee cap, eliciting a loud pop that caused him to stagger back from the impact. He cursed out in pain, and for the slimmest of seconds, I felt the fervor of hope burn through me at the possibility of having broken his knee, but the lunatic never went down. Was he even
human
? 

He thrust the knife at me again, this time aiming for the side of my leg, but he failed to stick the landing. I kicked the knife out of his hands as the blond snatched up my arms again and began dragging me across the concrete.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to free myself from her grasp as my back scraped against the rocky terrain. “HELP!”

“Knock her out, Bobby! Shut her the hell up!”

I kicked my legs out as soon as he came near me, this time aiming for the other knee.

“You want me to cut you, bitch? I’ll cut you,” he warned, flailing the blade in my direction. And then suddenly, he was gone, soaring backwards through the air like a bag of trash.

I looked up and found Trace standing in his place, sublime fury infiltrating every curve of his spectacular face. In an instant, he was perched over me like the statue of an Adonis, freeing me from Blondie as he sent her sailing several feet across the parking lot. But there was no time to thank him, to pray at his alter. Within seconds, she was back on her feet, coming at us again.

“Trace, behind you!” I warned as I watched Bobby rush him from the other side, his knife outstretched.

Trace turned at the last moment and grunted as Bobby made contact with his torso. I couldn’t tell if he’d been punched or stabbed. Panicked, I began crawling towards him but was yanked back by my hair before I could reach them.

Blondie had but one goal and that was to drag me back to that van, with or without Bobby’s help. Fingers entwined in my hair, she dragged me mercilessly as I kicked the air in vain.

“Get off me, you psycho!” I roared through furious tears. All I wanted to do was claw her eyes out with my bare hands. And in that moment, I was sure I could do it if given the chance.

“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” she snarled, ripping at my hair as she dragged me without mercy.

I felt a swell of fire tear through my body. It was fear and rage and panic merging into one big melting pot that had finally hit its boiling point.

I reached back for her arm and used it as a crutch to pull myself back up to my feet. Her hands came out at me again, flailing and desperate, but they never made contact with my body. I was in control now and I wasn’t even sure how I was doing it. With one stabbing look in her hollow eyes, I swung my fist into her face, hitting her square in the jaw. Before her eyes could steady themselves or register the impact, I swung again, knocking her out cold in one final strike.