Marked (11 page)

It’s pitch dark when Brielle turns off the winding, lonely road we’ve been on for a while and down a gravel road in a grove of pine trees.  I’m not sure how she saw it; I didn’t until we were on it.  Wherever this safe house is, it’s isolated. 

After a few minutes, the light of a large, magnificent house finally comes into view.  It’s a cross between a log cabin and a mansion; a masterpiece of wood and glass.   The entire structure is difficult to make out in the dark, but I can see that it stands three stories high.  Four gables protrude from the roof and there’s a deck surrounding the house around the second floor.   There are large windows cut into the logs; I’m guessing to optimize light in this dense forest.   At this time of night, light streaks out of them.   Beautiful, but I’m not so sure how safe those windows are.

Brielle pulls up to the porch and parks the car.  She gets out and motions for us to follow.  I’m still in awe when I open my door and step out onto the gravel.  I guess I was expecting something more rustic; like a cabin.  I wonder who lives here.  I sure hope they’re up for company.

Brielle walks up the steps to the large front porch decorated with an antique rocking chair and a planter with a long dead plant, and slips a key in the door lock.  Turning the handle on the windowless door, she pushes it open.  And comes face to face with the wrong end of a shotgun.   One that doesn’t have an orange tip.  I guess they’re not up for company.

“Brielle, watch out,” I shout.

She turns and gives me a wry look.  “Thanks for the sage advice.”  Then to my surprise, she puts her hand on the end of the gun and pushes it down.  “Get that thing out of my face before I cram it down your throat.”

“Jesus, Brielle,” the owner of the gun says.  He’s still in the shadows so I can’t see his face yet.  “You scared the hell out of me.  You know you’re supposed to call first.  I could have blown your fucking head off.”

“Please,” Brielle scoffs.  “Even at this range you would have missed.  You suck with guns.  And I had to ditch my phone.”

The guy laughs and comes out of the shadows to lean against the door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest; the gun now propped against the door.  “Who are these guys?” he asks, nodding towards Roman and me.  “It’s not like you to travel with a posse.  And why doesn’t that dude have a shirt on?”

The guy can’t be much older than Brielle; definitely in his early twenties.   He’s dark haired and has at least two days of stubble on his strong, handsome face.  He’d probably look eighteen without it.  His build is lean and muscular, even if it’s not quite a match for Roman’s.  He certainly fills out the skinny jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing quite well, though.  The appraising look he gives me, starting at my eyes and working his way down and back up, tells me he appreciates the way I’m filling out my borrowed clothes as well.  When he reaches my face again, he’s grinning. 

“Quit eye fucking her,” Brielle says, “and get out of the way so we can actually go into the house.”

Roman stiffens next to me.  A fact that doesn’t go unnoticed.  “Dude, relax.  If she’s yours, I’m just looking.  If she’s not, well then I’ll have to arm wrestle you or something.”

Cocky little fuck.  “Yes, because I’m a piece of ass that can be passed around on a cloud of testosterone, going from one dumb ass to the next without a single thought or opinion of my own.  Funny, Brielle didn’t mention the caveman living here; probably because she wanted to block you from her memory.”

He’s amused by my little tirade.  “Damn, sis, you sure know how to pick friends.  She’s completely killed my hard on now.”  Sis?  He’s Brielle’s brother?  His personality is starting to make sense now.

Brielle puts her hands on his chest and pushes him out of the way and strides inside.  “I never said they were my friends,” she says without looking back at us. 

I guess we’re supposed to follow her inside.  Her brother confirms that by swinging his arm in a ‘come on in’ way.  Roman waits for me to go first.  I walk past the amused grin and catch myself smiling back.  I have to admit, her brother may be an ass, but he’s sexy as hell with his laid back, I’ll sweep you off your feet with my obnoxious but charming wit and arrogance. 

The way Roman puts a hand on the small of my back as we enter means he picked up on my thoughts.  That’s annoying.  I’m not his.  One kiss that was merely for the sake of keeping me grounded does not mean he can be a jealous ass.  I push his hand away and stride into the house.  I don’t miss the chuckle from Brielle’s brother as he closes the door behind us.

If the outside of the house was a shock, the inside is even more so.  The large foyer encompasses a staircase made of solid oak that winds around a huge elevator cage made of brass.  To the left and right are doors that are closed and a long hallway behind the stairs that I suspect leads to the back of the house.  Brielle heads to the door on the left. 

We follow her into a room that is in strict contrast to her personality.  The room couldn’t be more feminine with its dusty rose carpet and long, cream colored drapes with a pretty floral print.  There is a massive fireplace with an oak mantle displaying several vases of fresh flowers at the far end of the room and the large, plush sofa and chair facing it are both a soft cream color. 

Sitting in a wheelchair by the roaring fire is an elderly woman.  Her long gray hair is pulled into a loose bun and her heavily lined face is grim when she looks up from her knitting.  “It’s not like you to not to call before you come.  You could have gotten yourself killed,” she says with a strong southern accent.  Her voice is gravelly with age and I suspect years of nicotine inhalation.

Brielle smiles and kisses the woman on the cheek.  “Sorry, Grams.  Things are a little crazy, but I’ll get them straightened out.”  This is her grandmother?  It’s beginning to sink in that this isn’t really a safe house; this is her family home.

Her grandmother shakes her head.  “I worry like crazy about you.  You take too many risks.  I’ve already lost your mother; I’m not ready to lose you, too.”

Brielle grins down at her.  “I’m too stubborn to die, Grams.  You know that.”  I believe her.

Her grandmother doesn’t.  “You get that notion right out of your head before you start making even stupider decisions about your safety.  Now, introduce me to these people you dragged home with you.”

I am suddenly very self-conscious.  Roman is too.  I can tell by the way he crosses his arms over his chest that he really wishes he had a shirt.  I look at Brielle’s feeble grandmother and I feel terrible we brought our problems to her. 

“Malik sent me to rescue her,” Brielle says, pointing at me, “and he tagged along for the ride.”  She points at Roman.  “It’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since I met them.” 

Her grandmother swats at her.  “You mind your language young lady before I send you outside to cut a switch to beat your bottom with.”

Brielle is more amused than chagrined.  “Wait ‘til you’ve been around them for a while.  It won’t be me you’ll want to take a switch to.”

I still hate her.  I don’t see that changing anytime soon.  Approaching her grandmother, I hold out my hand.  “Hello, my name is Skye Rowan.  I’m so sorry we’re intruding this way.  Your granddaughter is helping us with a situation and we hope to be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

The woman looks at me for a moment without taking my hand.  I let it fall back to my side.  “You’re the one on the news,” she says.  “They say you got kidnapped by a doctor.  You don’t look kidnapped to me.”  Her eyes move to Roman.  “Shirtless wonder must be your supposed kidnapper?”

Color is flushing Roman’s cheeks.  “I have been with Skye since she left the hospital, yes.  My name is Roman Palis.”

Turning to Brielle, her grandmother says, “Get that man a shirt.  How’s a person supposed to think with all that skin gleaming in the fire light.  On second thought, have Zane get him one and you sit your fanny down and tell me what’s going on.”

Brielle nods and walks to the door.  She opens it and instead of walking through it, she bellows into the foyer, “Zane, Grams wants you to get a shirt for Doctor Muscles.”  She closes the door and walks to the chair across from her grandmother and plops down without a second glance at us, so we take a seat on the sofa.

“Basically, the djinn want her dead.  They want her dead so badly they’re willing to risk exposure and kill innocent humans to get to her.  Malik asked me to save her, but he didn’t give me all the details this time.”  Storm clouds gather in her eyes as she says this.  “The doc’s just along for the ride.  I couldn’t shake him at the hospital.”

Brielle’s grandmother turns her dull blue eyes in my direction.  “You’re a tiny thing to have caused such a big mess.  What did you do to get the djinn after you?”

I’m really starting to hate that question.  “Nothing,” I say.

She snorts, which turns into a coughing fit.  When she’s finally able to catch her breath, she says, “Bullshit.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Brielle mutters.

“Ms…” I realize I don’t know her name.

“You can call me Mrs. Gregori.”  The fact that she is not willing to have us on a first name basis makes me feel even more unwelcome.  Though maybe she’s just old fashioned.

“Mrs. Gregori, I swear to you – I have never done any harm to the djinn.  I may have somehow slighted them without my knowledge, but I have no idea how that could have happened.  I feel like the djinn drew my name out of a hat and said ‘let’s kill her today’.”

Her eyes narrow.  “I spent my whole life hunting the djinn.  I’ve found it’s the guilty ones who profess their innocence by claiming ignorance.”

It’s official, I hate the whole damn family.  “In this case the opposite is true.  I am innocent.  And ignorant.” 

“I could help you out with that,” a masculine voice behind me says.  I turn to glare at Zane who has brought a shirt for Roman.

“You watch your mouth before I wash it out with soap,” Mrs. Gregori says.  The feigned look of horror on Zane’s face makes me laugh despite my annoyance, which earns me a dirty look from Mrs. Gregori and Roman. 

He tosses a light blue t-shirt to Roman.  “Try not to stretch it out,” he says.  Then he plops down on the sofa between Roman and me.  Stretching his arms across the back, he says, “So, what’s the story.  Are they staying?  If so, I’d be more than happy to share my bed.”  He grins at me making it perfectly clear what he is implying.

“I would be more than happy to sleep right here,” I say with a significant glance in his direction.  He just laughs.

“Mrs. Gregori, you said you’ve been hunting djinn your entire life yet Brielle says she only learned of their existence a few years ago,” Roman says.  Good point.

Mrs. Gregori nods.  “When their mother ran off with their father, she chose to turn her back on her family and chose to ignore the existence of the djinn.  You see where that got her.”

“Grams didn’t even know about us until I started digging into our family history for clues as to why the djinn would have attacked our parents.  Growing up, Mom never talked about her.  We thought she was dead,” Brielle explains, bitterness resounding in her words.  “But I tracked her down and she’s been living with us ever since.”

That explains the stark contrast in demeanor between her and Brielle and Zane.  They both seem comfortable in the house but Mrs. Gregori, for lack of a better term, seems too rough to have lived the life this house would imply.  I suspect nothing about her life has been easy.  She has that harried look in her eyes of someone who has worked too hard and seen too much.

Brielle sits up and leans her elbows on her knees.  “I didn’t know what else to do with them, Grams.  For some reason, it’s really important to Malik for Skye to be safe, but I’ve never seen the djinn act this aggressive before.  They are totally foregoing their low profile behavior.  They stormed the hospital with guns; they openly attacked us in broad daylight.  They also killed…” Brielle stops to take a deep breath, showing emotion for the first time over the death of an innocent man.  She’s not as heartless as she claims to be.  “They killed a human by carving Skye’s name in his gut and letting him bleed out in the middle of the road, and then attacked us again when we stopped to try to help the guy.  They’ve never acted like this before.”  Mrs. Gregori lets that information sink in with a scowl.

Zane’s eyebrows knit together.  “They carved your name in some random dude?” he asks me.  “That’s wicked insane.  Your days are definitely numbered.”  The amusement on his face is gone, replaced by pity and conviction.  I liked the amused look much better. 

“I am confident there are other options besides certain death,” Roman drawls after pulling the t-shirt over his head.

“Really?” Zane says with raised brows.  “Name one.”

“Zane Alexander, you hush now,” Mrs. Gregori says.  “No matter what she’s done, we aren’t going to let the djinn have a human.  You know that.”  I would argue again that I haven’t done anything but she said she’d keep me alive so I’m keeping my mouth shut.  Turning to Brielle, she says, “What have you done so far?”

A sheepish expression falls over Brielle’s face.  “Nothing that’s worked.  I thought I lost them after we left the hospital, but they found us anyway and I had to take down the city house.  I amped the sine wave so we could get out of there and even revamped the jeep, but somehow they found us again.  That’s when the dead guy was practically thrown at us on the road.  I shot the djinni who did it a few times, but he got away.  I don’t think anyone followed us here, though.”

“You don’t think?  Jesus, Brielle,” Zane says.  He stands abruptly and strides towards the door.  “I’ll do a sweep of the area.”  I guess djinn hunting really is a family thing.

“What can I do to help?” Roman asks the room in general.

Zane shoots him a look over his shoulder.  “You can stay out of our way.”  With that, he leaves the room.