The Marked Girl (13 page)

Kat cleared her throat loudly, and Cedric and Liv both shut up and sat up straight, as though they'd been caught at something.

“Anyway,” Liv continued, “if your life were a movie, the MacGuffin would be the thing you really, really want.”

“Fascinating. But I believe we have things of actual import to discuss,” Kat said, her voice cold.

From the other side of the room, Merek scoffed. “Like jealous fiancées.”

There was an awkward silence, and Liv took a deep breath, choosing to pretend she hadn't heard Merek. “So I get you're looking for scrolls, but . . . why didn't your people just come back here years ago, once they realized the, um, wraths followed them to Caelum?”

Merek snorted and gestured outside. “Why do you think?”

Cedric shifted uncomfortably. “We were taught that our people left this place when it had grown uninhabitable. Though the wraths followed us, returning here was never even an option.”

“You do not escape hell only to return,” Merek said, his voice low.

“Well, I think that's a little harsh. I mean, yeah, we may have a lot of wars and a disturbing amount of reality TV shows based on botched plastic surgeries, but . . . hell?” Liv laughed. “I mean, Earth is where you all came from. It's your home.”

“It is
not
our home,” Kat said.

“Okay, but . . . it's not
hell
.” Liv turned to Cedric. “Is that really what you think?”

Cedric sighed. “What I think is we have to get back, at any cost. It is not only our own lives in the balance. All of Caelum is at risk.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Another thought occurred to Liv. “Wait, you said these wraths followed your people into Caelum. But if that's true, how did they end up in that alley? And why are they after you now?”

Cedric's eyebrows furrowed. “I do not know the answer to that.”

“Or to anything else, really,” Merek muttered, looking out of the window.

“Yes, Merek, I think you have made your opinion on the matter quite clear. You continue to be extremely helpful by repeating it.”

“Well,” Liv said, with a forced laugh, “at least when your people went through that portal the first time, they remembered to take sarcasm with them.”

To Liv's—and everyone's—surprise, Kat was the one who laughed at that. She quickly squelched it, forcing her expression back to a more grim one.

“It has been a long night,” Kat said. “And we are all a little tense. Maybe we should get some rest.”

Liv still had so many questions to ask, but more than that, she wanted a few quiet moments to think, and to wrap her head around everything that had happened. “That's a good idea,” she said. “This place is relatively safe . . . I mean, from cops, anyway. As for the wraths . . .”

“They cannot have followed us,” Cedric said. “We moved too quickly on the way here.”

“Yeah, well, Shannon believes that speed limits are more of a suggestion than a rule.” Liv laughed, but it was hollow. She tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped around uncomfortably at just the thought of those creatures with the pitch-black eyes, and the way that black-haired one had stared at her hungrily as it pinned her down to the ground . . . she shook her head to rid herself of the image.

They ended up spreading out around the couches or on
the torn carpet in the living room. Liv lay down against the cushions in the darkness, her eyes barely making out the sloping shapes lying around her. As the minutes stretched on, she could tell that the others were falling asleep, one by one. She wanted to stay awake and sort through all of the images of the day, get them into some kind of recognizable order, but instead, she slipped into half-dreams full of black-eyed monsters and dark holes that tore open the sky before waking up each time with a gasp.

After a few hours, Liv gave up trying to think or even trying to get a good night's rest. None of the sleeping forms so much as twitched as she got up and crept out of the room and through the kitchen.

Through a window in the kitchen door, Liv could clearly see the backyard area, dim and tranquil in the moonlight. She opened the door and walked out onto the back patio. A few plastic lawn chairs surrounded a glass-topped table with an old, dirty ashtray sitting on top of it.

Liv took a seat and shut her eyes. She suddenly longed to go down to her spot by the river, which she knew would be isolated and calm at this time of night. It was her go-to place whenever life was feeling a bit . . . much. But even if she had her car with her, it wouldn't have felt right to leave Cedric and the others behind on their own.

A small scraping sound made Liv jump. She whirled around and saw Cedric coming through the back door, which he closed behind him.

“Cannot sleep?” he asked.

“Nope. Lots going on up here,” Liv replied, pointing to her head. She tried to let out a small laugh, but it got caught at a lump in her throat and came out sounding strangled.

“Do you mind?” Cedric pointed to the chair next to hers.

Liv shook her head.

“I find it can be hard to sleep through the night in this world. We usually rotate in shifts.” Cedric leaned back in his chair, tipping his head toward the sky. Liv followed his gaze. She'd always loved how the night sky in Los Angeles could look different depending on where you were. By the beach, it was a deep blue. In the center of Hollywood, with its roaming searchlights and congestion, the sky turned purple-gray, almost the color of slate. Here, in Echo Park, it reflected the orangy glow of the streetlights.

“Do you believe what Merek said in there?” Liv asked, her eyes still on the sky. “About thinking this place is hell?”

Cedric waited a moment before responding. “I did at first, but not anymore. There are some things here that seem far too lovely to exist in any type of hell . . .”

“Like syrup?”

“Among other things.” Cedric flushed and looked away. “I suppose this realm is not like any kind of hell I have ever heard of. Then again, how would one really know? Maybe hell is just a myth we ascribe to worlds we cannot imagine.”

“Whoa. Deep.”

“I am more than just a pretty face.”

Liv snorted, and Cedric gave her that half-smile she was coming to recognize. His eyes looked dark blue in the moonlight,
half covered in shadow. She remembered how fast he had run in the alley, and nodded toward his outstretched leg.

“I guess that's true. Does everyone have superpowers where you're from?”

“Superpowers?” Cedric chuckled in the darkness. “I like that. All Guardians are fast and strong, to better fight the wraths. Several generations ago, the fastest and strongest of us joined forces to rule over the others and ensure peace in the kingdom.”

Liv was about to interject with a snarky comment about fascism, but decided against it.

“For years, the royals would intermarry to ensure that the next generation would be just as capable of leading,” Cedric continued.

“Thus . . . arranged marriage.”

“It is of the utmost importance. The wraths grow in number every year, and we have to maintain the power to fight them.”

“So, you were all trained to fight? The way you all moved in that alley . . . I've never seen anything like it.”

“We were all trained, yes. Kat and I had royal training for years. Merek trained as well, although he never showed the same aptitude as his older brother. I think it bothered him more than a little.”

Liv choked down a laugh. “Well, that explains the majorly chipped shoulder, I guess.”

“The what?”

Liv waved her hand. “He just seems to go out of his way to be kind of a dick. You know, rude for no reason? So remind me
to keep him away from Shannon. That's exactly her type.”

Liv had meant it as a joke—sort of—but Cedric didn't smile. “I suppose he has his reasons to act as he does. As a second son, Merek will not take over his father's place as duke. Without superior fighting skills, he will never lead a guard, either. Still, he is royalty. And my responsibility”—he paused—“‘dick' or not.”

Liv pursed her lips to swallow her laughter at Cedric's labored pronunciation of the word. They sat in silence for another moment. Liv batted a fly away from her leg as she tucked both her legs up underneath her in the flimsy chair.

“What's it like, where you're from?”

“Caelum . . . ,” Cedric started, his voice turning softer, “is not as bright as here. We have a sun, but it is not so big, nor so intense. It is also colder there, though not in a bad way. Everything is . . . clearer. And cleaner. Bigger and yet . . . sharper, somehow.”

“No smog, huh?”

Cedric shook his head, though Liv wasn't quite sure he even knew what smog was. “It is both simpler there . . . and more complicated, in some ways. We ride in carriages to get from the palace to the town, and we hunt in giant forests with trees that reach as tall as that.” Liv followed Cedric's finger to where it pointed at a series of hills. “Taller, actually.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“Besides hunting? We go to feasts and dances on high holidays, but we also just . . . spend time together.”

“Like hang out.”

Cedric shrugged. He was still staring at the sky, but it didn't look like he was really seeing it. His eyes were much farther away.

“And what about Kat?” Liv asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“What about her?”

“Well, the whole lifelong betrothal thing . . . it's just, it's kind of difficult to understand. We don't really do that here. Not in LA, anyway.”

“Kat and I . . . that is simply the way it has always been for us.”

They were silent again, and Liv could hear crickets chirping from the trees. The air around her felt thick.

“What about love?” she asked, her voice low. “Doesn't that exist in Caelum?”

“Of course it does. But Kat and I, we are different. We have responsibilities to our families, to our nation. Our union will make our entire kind stronger against the rising wrath forces.”

“Oh,” Liv managed. She wasn't sure what else to say. It seemed like a lot for a teenager to take on.

Cedric's eyebrows stitched together as if he was trying to work something out. “Kat and I are lucky. We have always cared for each other, which is more than a lot of people in our position can say. I trust her. More than anyone.”

Liv tried to think about the people in her life she really trusted. Just Shannon, really. Joe, too, although she didn't really want to think about him right now, or the half dozen voice mails he'd left on her phone.

“I get it,” she said. “But do you think you two will still . . . I mean, if you don't get back—”

“We are getting back.” Cedric's voice was firm.

“Right, sorry. I didn't mean . . .”

“Of course.” Cedric shook his head, but his tone had changed. He stared off into the distance again, his expression hard. Liv felt something strange, then, just an all-consuming need to make him feel better somehow, to erase the past few moments.

“I can help you, if you want.”

Almost startled, Cedric looked over at her. “You have already helped.”

“I mean, I can help you track down the MacGuff—the scrolls. I assume you've Googled them already . . .”

Cedric just raised an eyebrow, and Liv took that as a no.

“Right. Well, we can start with that. Tomorrow morning, we'll go pick up my car—it has my laptop in it—and we'll do some research. Can't promise anything, but there's all sorts of crazy stuff on the internet. Who knows, some of it might even be true.”

Cedric still looked confused. “The internet?”

Liv didn't think she was up to the task of explaining how computers worked to someone who'd never even used a cell phone before. “I keep forgetting how much I have to teach you.” She tilted her head and put on a mock-condescending voice. “So innocent.”

Cedric smiled. “Not
so
innocent. I am sure I could teach you a thing or two, as well.”

“Um.”

Cedric's eyes widened, as though he'd just realized what he'd said. “I only meant . . .”

Liv looked away quickly, hoping her face wasn't turning strange shades of red. “No, I know. You could probably teach me how to use a bow and arrow, or something.”

“Exactly, yes. That is what I meant.” Cedric's voice was still a bit high-pitched, but the worst of the embarrassment seemed behind them. For now. “Do you really not know how to hunt at all?”

“Not unless you count going through the Fatburger drive-through,” Liv replied weakly.

“My sister, Emmeline, could hold a bow properly by the time she was seven years old.” Cedric chuckled to himself. “She loved that bow so much—it was a birthday gift from my father. She used to actually sleep with it in her bed. One day I accidentally stepped on it and broke it. When I told her, I was holding it in pieces, and I thought she was going to burst into tears. Instead, she punched me—right here.” Cedric pointed a finger to his nose. “My father just laughed. Said no one would ever mess with his daughter . . .” Cedric's smile faltered.

Liv swallowed. “Sounds like a nice family.”

“They are my home,” Cedric said, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat, as though eager to change the subject. “Though I am sure everyone feels that way about their family.” Cedric looked up quickly, his eyes apologetic. “I am sorry, I forgot . . . your family . . .”

For a while, Liv didn't respond. She felt a familiar lump rise
in her throat, and then got angry with herself, angry that her body could still react in this way, even after all these years. Cedric lifted his hand up and moved it a few inches closer to where her hand rested against the plastic arm of the chair, but then pulled it back. He didn't ask, but Liv knew the story was coming up anyway.