Seventh Mark (Part 1 +2)

Hidden Secrets
Saga

Book I

By

W. J. May

Copyright 2013
by W.J. May

Smashwords
Edition

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This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
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reserved.

Copyright 2013
by W.J. May

Cover design by
Patrick Griffith

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book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
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in articles and reviews.

Website:
http://www.wanitamay.yolasite.com

Cover design
by: Patrick Griffith

Edits by:
Regina Mitchell

The Hidden
Secrets Saga

Book I –
Seventh Mark

Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-_vVYC1gvo

Book II –
Pride and Passion
Coming January 2014

To my husband
and kids – Love you and all our crazy ways. I wouldn’t change it
for anything!

Proper
thanks—with jumping up and down cheering, waving hands and shouting
at the top of my lungs needs to be sent out to:

Dawn Dowdle, my
amazing agent who is the agent above all agents. So proud to be
part of her team!

Patrick
Griffith, who blows my mind with his talent on creating covers.
Double thank you!

Chrissy
Peebles, for being such a great writing buddy and always available
and willing to help. Thank for you for pushing met to get this
story out, I’d have never done it without you.

Regina
Mitchell, a lovely editor who I have no idea how she finds the time
to edit so fast.

And above all
else, to my Lord and Saviour who gave me this wild imagination.

Ear buds
stuffed in, I cranked the volume on my iPod and clicked my exercise
shuffle. I jogged down the gravel driveway and turned to follow the
last bit of sunset.
If only I could draw or paint…

Crossing an
intersection, I headed left and let my legs carry me away from the
small houses, run-down yards, cracked door screens and broken-down
cars into a block of bigger houses. The lawns rolled further away
from the sidewalk and the houses grew farther apart.
Maybe one
day I’ll buy a place like this.
I snorted at the thought.

Even though I’d
never admit it to anyone, a part of me is cursed. Like poison
running through my veins, I’ve always believed it would catch up
with me. I didn’t know the whys or hows, but deep down it seemed
inevitable.

Except now fate
intervened, and for once in my life, thank goodness. If it hadn’t,
I wouldn’t be here, in this awesome place on the other side of the
country. The whole curse thing was probably just in my head.

I gazed
straight in front, between the old giant trees lining the roads.
The jagged pink and white peaks reflected snow from the remains of
the setting sun made me appreciate the beauty of nature.
West
coast, oh yeah!
I smiled, unable to keep the giddiness inside.
I’d lived all my life in Niagara Falls, but this—words couldn’t
begin to describe this beauty.

Inhaling real
fresh pine scent, not the kind from cleaning agents from the past
two days, I savoured the moment. If Family and Children Services
hadn’t approved Jim and Sally’s request, I wouldn’t be seeing real
mountains for the first time. As quick as the bubble came up, it
burst.

Next January
I’d be eighteen and no longer at the benefit of the government. Jim
and Sally were decent foster parents, but they also made it clear
they couldn’t afford to help me with college. I quickened my pace.
I didn’t want to think about where I might be in a year.

You’ll be on
your own…no family. Nothing. Unwanted again.
The imaginary
little devil on my left shoulder laughed at me.

Music shouted
in my ear, “You’re supposed to be alone. Alone…lone…lone…” I
glanced at my left shoulder and pretended to flick the imaginary
devil off, nearly crashing into the old high-stoned wall lining the
neighborhood. Regaining my balance and focus, I pulled the iPod out
of my pocket and skipped to the next song.

Street lights
flickered on. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness without
even letting my brain know
.
I should turn around before
it’s completely black.
Didn’t want to be out on my own when I
barely knew the area.

A gap ahead in
the high wall caught my attention. Curiosity won. Instead of
heading back, I pushed forward. A public park entrance came into
view. Heavy black iron gates led me onto a smooth paved entrance. A
large raised garden split the road in two.

A plaque set
into the garden’s stone wall made me smile. End of an Era. From the
raised stones peeking behind the garden flowers, this was a
cemetery, not a park. The owner obviously had a sense of humor
along with the desire to create one of those resting places with a
welcome. A twenty-something looking woman whizzed by on roller
blades, waving as she passed.

The pathways
were lit up with those new solar green energy lights. I took the
first lane along the outer border and slowed my pace. The tall
slate and marble gravestones were erected on the left side with an
ancient forest lining the right. As I jogged, I passed through a
part of the cemetery that must’ve been the original lot with
worn-down, ancient-looking stones. I paused or weaved between the
stones to read the odd one: “1886 John Hartzel -- 18 years of age,
1892 Patrick O’Reilly -- died too young, Tammy Fortune 1802 -1822.”
What’s with this place? Can’t come here if you’re over thirty?

Squinting, I
jogged closer to a raised tombstone with a concrete angel resting
on top. Using my hand, which carried my iPod, I rested it on the
corner of the stone to steady myself. I leaned forward for a better
look at the inscription. Poor thing, same age as the others. I
straightened and pushed off to finish my run. The cord from my iPod
snagged the angel’s head, yanking the buds from my ears—the iPod
went flying from my hand.

“Crap!” I
skidded to a stop on the damp grass and used my palms to hug my
ears. It hurt like a bitch. I glanced up at the stone figurine and
grimaced. Imagine trying to decapitate an angel. People were
probably rolling in their graves right now.

Double crap! My
iPod. It better not be busted. Night had fully descended, which
didn’t work in my favor. I got down on my knees and began groping
in the dark, futilely trying to scan the grass. The little solar
lights were useless. “Of course, I had to buy the black case,” I
mumbled and shook my head as I crawled to check under a nearby
bench. Cobwebs caressed my face, which had me doing a karate twitch
dance as I tried to knock off any possible spiders and remove the
webs.

A twig snapped,
followed by a muffled laugh.

I froze,
waiting, tense, my head cocked to the side. It was dead quiet.
As it should be in a cemetery.
No noise. Not a sound.

“Dummy.” I got
out from under the bench, sat up and brushed off my sweatshirt.
It’d taken months to save for the iPod. I dropped down to search
again clawing at chunks of grass.
I’m not leaving till I find
it, even if I have to swallow some hairy, icky spiders.

“You lose
something?” A low, gruff voice broke through the dark. “Or are you
digging your own grave?”

My heart leapt
to my throat. I smacked my head on the bottom of the bench.
“Flippin’ heck!” I scrambled back, rubbing the sore spot, paranoid
about how high my butt hung in the air. My luck, it was probably
some graveyard rapist.

The stranger
said nothing. All I could see was the outline of a pair of dark
with white Converse sneakers. I noisily sucked in a rapid breath,
not realizing I’d held it.

“Sorry,” the
husky male voice said, sounding amused. “I didn't mean to startle
you. This probably isn’t the best place to sneak up on someone.” He
cleared his throat. “Are you looking for something?”

His voice
turned soft, but masculine. Not the kind of voice you expected to
hear in a cemetery.

Then again,
what kind of voice would one expect to hear?

I glanced up
then fell back on my butt. A boy standing a few feet away from me
definitely didn’t belong in a cemetery. Too tanned, too blond,
too…wow, hot.

Very tall,
especially from where I sat on the ground. I had to make an effort
to drag my eyes away from his face. Even in the dark, his blue eyes
flashed against the moonlight. He had the blondest hair I’d ever
seen, like a Viking’s.

Not a psycho or
kidnapper, just a kid like me. I relaxed and stood, brushing my
shorts.
Why are you in the cemetery?
I didn’t bother to ask.
He probably wondered the same about me. With my luck, he’d just
visited his girlfriend’s tombstone.
Man, I’m awful.

I quickly shut
my mouth, which hung open. Coughing, I spoke a little too loudly.
“I-I lost my iPod.”

Another chuckle
erupted from his lips, sounding like it belonged in the movies.
Hollywood-boy walked around me and behind the upright stone angel.
He bent down behind it and pulled a long, white string. My eyes
widened and for a split second I thought about running. What did he
plan on doing? Strangling me?

Then it dawned
on me, the white string belonged to my ear buds. A sure sign when
the iPod followed along, like a fish on a line. The wind caught
behind me and blew escaped ponytail hair into my face. Irritated, I
brushed it away from my eyes.

He paused
before turning back around. “It smells…” he inhaled “…like
liquorice.”

I sniffed. “It
smells like dead people. Well, like damp grass.” The lawn looked to
have been cut a couple of days ago. Clumps of old grass lay under
the cement bench, emitting a rotten smell like old cheese.

He straightened
and flashed a smile, his teeth bright against the dark of night.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” He held out my iPod and
dropped it onto my outstretched hand.

“Got here
yesterday.” I stuffed the iPod in my pocket. “Thanks. I’m
Rouge.”

An eyebrow
disappeared behind his hair. “Michael.” He grinned and held out his
hand which I shook lightly.

Pleasantly
cool. They’d feel good on my cheeks which are freakin’ burning
right now. That thought made them flame even more.

“The iPod
didn’t manage to pull your ears off?”

“You caught
that?” Now I wanted to crawl into one of the graves.

“I rounded the
bend…” he pointed in the opposite direction from where I’d come,
“…when I noticed you trying to decapitate this poor angel here.” He
patted the figure.

I sensed a
smile in his voice.

He cleared his
throat and took a step back.

“What’re you
doing in the cemetery?” I blurted, unable to hide my curiosity.

“Taking a
break.” He grinned like he’d made a joke. “Are you going to
continue your run?” He shifted like he was surprised he had asked
the question. He cleared his throat. “Otherwise I can walk with you
to the main road.”

“I think it’s
safer if I walk.” We started towards the main road. “Do you live
around here?” I grimaced at the needy sound in my voice.

“Not too
far.”

“My place is
that way.” I pointed to the left.

“I’m that way.”
He nodded in the other direction.

We continued in
silence while I wracked my brain trying to come up with something
witty to say.