Insidious: (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 1) Read online

  “Please…don’t-”

  The boy blinked, his eyes flashing gold. “Per sanguine nos offer tibi et sacrificium quod Magister.”

  One swift slash, and red filled my vision.

  A hand gripped my shoulder and I flung upright, knocking my desk over in the process. Mr. Salzmann raised both his hands and stepped back, clearly startled.

  What the hell was that?

  “Are you okay?” asked the substitute. Every eye in the room was focused on me, making me all the more aware of my current state. My heart threatened to explode right inside my chest, a surge of adrenaline racked my body, making my entire frame quiver in its wake, and bile rose in my throat. I was going to be sick.

  Chapter 12

  Rolling in the Deep

  I spent the whole next period in the nurse’s office with a small flashlight burning purple spots into my eyes. Based on my physical symptoms, Nurse Delgado determined that I had experienced a panic attack. Obviously, I left out the part about the murder in the woods. As soon as the manic anxiety began subsiding, I was sent back to class. I needed to bide my time until I could talk to Reese. It wasn’t like I could just saunter into the middle of his class and start an open discussion about demons and magic and homicide.

  “You forgot again?” Carly laughed, hauling me toward my car the moment school let out.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “The country club. Your meeting with Mrs. Marin. It’s in twenty five minutes.” She opened the driver’s door, gesturing me inside. “Your mom will kill you if you blow this off again.”

  Crap.

  That was the last thing on my mind. I needed to get help. But after what Reese had said, I knew he was right. I couldn’t go to Adam or Mr. Reynolds, and I certainly couldn’t go to the cops. Mystic Harbor was surrounded by forestlands on all sides, save for the coast, and I hadn’t the slightest idea where this had happened, or who was involved, or how I had gotten there.

  “Hey, space cadet.” Carly waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me once again out of my trance. “Woodstone, twenty-four minutes and counting. Get a move on.”

  I regrettably headed to the back and checked my trunk. Thank God. The dress Mom had picked out for me to wear was still wrapped in the garment bag. Seemed Reese would have to wait.

  I pulled up in front of the Woodstone Country Club, and a valet greeted me as I stepped out of the Camry. He handed me a ticket and drove off into the parking lot, leaving only me and my nerves at the entrance. I immediately ducked into the bathroom to change, gaping at my reflection in horror. Donned in a pencil skirted, high-necked detailed black dress and matching ankle booted heels, I looked every bit of the sophisticated, Barbie-esque young lady that my mother always hoped I would be…except for the fact that the dress was sleeveless. When Mom had chosen it, I didn’t give it a second thought. Now…I was in serious trouble. Metallic tattoos were sprawled all down my left forearm. In plain sight.

  And the only thing I had to cover up the designs was the red leather racing jacket that Reese had returned to me, which was considered “street apparel” by country club decree. They’d force me to take it off the moment I went into the club’s restaurant, and it would take too long to drive home to get something more suitable.

  I was screwed.

  My phone rang, and I tore it out of my purse. It was probably Carly. Maybe she was close. Maybe she had a jacket or a pullover I could borrow.

  “Where’s the fire?” It was…Reese.

  “What?”

  “You texted me ‘911’. What’s up?”

  Of course, now he got my message.

  “A lot of things are ‘up,’” I groaned, scouring the bathroom as if a miracle was somehow resting inside the nearby stall.

  “Where are you?”

  ***

  Reese had been just down the street, so it took him no time at all to pull into the parking lot of the country club. The pair of valets approached the old beater truck with a snicker, until it dawned on them that one of the two had to park it.

  “Interesting style choice,” Reese mused, looking me over as I met him at the curb. Like an idiot, I had my left arm wrapped up in the fabric of the shirt I had changed out of as if it were a cast.

  “I have to be inside in five minutes, and my jacket violates the dress code. I can’t go in there like this,” I said, flashing him a glimpse of my runes.

  He regarded me, not with mockery or amusement, but with empathy. “Here.”

  Reese drew back his shoulders, letting the rich damask fabric of his black blazer slide off his frame. I staggered back a step in bewilderment, but that didn’t deter him as he wrapped the jacket around me.

  “Will this do?”

  Letting my bound shirt fall away, I put my arms through the sleeves and hugged the blazer around myself. Overall, it was obviously too long and a bit too wide, even considering Reese’s slight build, but there was something charming about the look. A woman in a man’s jacket always had a certain chivalrous appeal to it, like a snapshot out of an old movie when a gentleman realizes his date is cold.

  Even better, the patterns of the jacket complimented the design of my dress. Sure, it wouldn’t blend in with the convention of the club, but the blazer certainly didn’t look like street clothes either.

  “Thank you.”

  Reese reached into my/his jacket pocket and pulled out a chain. “Here.” He placed it in my palm, and I fingered the pendant.

  “A cross?”

  “It’s Celtic,” he confirmed, reaching around me and clasping the chain around my neck. “But more importantly, it’s silver. Always handy to have on your person. Only the purest of evil is affected by it. You touch a demon or Hellhound with that, and it’ll burn ’em like a roman candle.”

  “Again, thank you.”

  “Was this the emergency?”

  My teeth gritted as I tried to find the words that didn’t make me sound crazy. “I saw someone get murdered when I was in English,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “I was sitting in my desk, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of the woods. There was a group of guys I’m pretty sure were Hellhounds, and they killed a girl.”

  “Did you recognize any of them?”

  I shook my head. “The only name I caught was Will. And that hardly narrows it down. What happened to me? No one seemed to notice that I had vanished from class…”

  “Did you fall asleep by any chance?” He didn’t need me to confirm, seeing the answer on my face. “I think you may have had an out-of-body experience, like astral projection. It’s a rare gift, even for a Mage. Could anyone see you when you were in the woods?”

  “I…I don’t know.” I thought it had been my shriek that had caught their attention, but what if it had been the owl? And Will didn’t seem to notice me either. “What do we do? Should I tell Adam—”

  He immediately shook his head.

  “But I have to do something, tell someone. What if we could bring her back?”

  “You can’t. To resurrect someone, you have to perform the enchantment on them immediately after they pass. And it’s not like whoever killed her is going to be hanging around the murder site, so it wouldn’t do us any good telling someone.”

  “Something else is wrong,” I muttered.

  “You’re not gonna tell me you see dead people now, are you?” He smiled slyly.

  “No, smartass.” I gave him a light shove, and he laughed heartedly. Had I just been…playful? I shook the thought from my mind. “It’s hard to explain, but…it’s like I’m losing control of myself.”

  His left brow cocked up. “Come again?”

  “One minute I’m perfectly fine and the next…I’m saying things I’d never say in a million years.”

  “This isn’t about what happened with Ava, is it? ’Cause she got under your skin?”

  “You heard about that?”

  “I’m invisible. Not deaf.”

  “Okay,
fine. Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s more than that. I’m worse than Ava. It’s like I suddenly don’t have a mental filter. Whatever comes in my head is coming out my mouth, and it’s not pretty. Not to mention, there’ve been other incidents.”

  “Such as?”

  “Things keep happening to people when I get pissed off at them. Like in English with Ava’s water bottle. Then in AP French, her friend, Diana, was giving me a hard time as well. Just as I made a remark back to her, the mount pole from the overhead projector suddenly fell off and smacked her in the head! Madame Maillard had to send her to the nurse because it hit her that hard!”

  “Karma?” Reese suggested lightly.

  “Here’s the kicker. Just as she got up from her seat, I again couldn’t help myself and said, ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.’ And guess what happened?”

  This seemed to earn his attention, because he snorted as he tried to bury his laughter. “Seriously? It actually hit her?”

  “The door swung closed so hard, she almost face planted in the hallway!”

  “Wow, you’re the driving force behind a lot of mischief today, aren’t you?” Reese chuckled.

  “That’s not all.” I pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. “These tattoo things keep glowing. The skin starts tingling or it outright burns.”

  The amusement fell from his face.

  Okay, not the reaction I was hoping for.

  “What does that mean?”

  He studied my arm for what felt like an eternity. “That doesn’t make sense…”

  “What?”

  “You’re activating the runes.”

  “How?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.”

  ***

  In all of Reese’s experience, a Mage shouldn’t have been capable of igniting a rune without training, so he was clearly at a loss in regard to whatever was going on with me. The warm, enticing fragrance of cinnamon greeted me as I passed back through the lobby, along with an array of autumn decorations inside an elegant, lodge-themed interior. Following the signs that directed me down the left corridor, I came to the Harbor Bistro.

  I was rather preoccupied with the thought of my runes that I barely paid mind to Mom’s horrified gaze from across the table as I took my seat in the restaurant.

  “Honey, surely you must be warm in that…thing,” she prodded, her eyes widening even further. I guess she wasn’t a fan of vintage outerwear.

  The place was actually a little chilly, and I found myself snuggling into the lingering warmth left from Reese’s body heat. “I’m good.” I expected Mom to give me another ugly glare, but I hadn’t anticipated the sharp jab to my shin. “Aaah!”

  The woman just kicked me!

  Mrs. Marin looked to me confusedly over the rim of her gigantic reading glasses. “Are you alright, dear?”

  “Peachy,” I winced, rubbing the tender spot of impact.

  For the next hour, I laughed and smiled on cue. There really wasn’t any need for me to be here. I could have used a freaking cardboard cutout. I didn’t speak once. I just nodded and complied with everything expected of me. Karma had apparently decided that I wasn’t in enough pain, because it was like I was suddenly sucker punched in the gut.

  Blaine’s mother. The only time I’d seen her since the accident was at the funeral, and we hadn’t spoken. I had hoped to keep it that way, but she was making a beeline right for our table. Everything from the salon styled shoulder length blonde bob and sleek onyx suit made her a figure to be both admired and feared. All the men in the room marveled over her, while the women, no matter their age, tried to avoid eye contact with her as if she was a grizzly bear on its hind legs, ready to strike down anyone who looked at her crossly.

  “Charlotte,” she announced, exchanging air kisses with Mrs. Marin. Her cool gaze drifted over to my mom. And then me. She gave a curt nod. “Ladies.”

  I attempted a polite smile, but couldn’t bring myself to say anything. What words were there? ‘Sorry for being partly responsible for your only son’s death’? My nervous eyes traveled away, taking a sudden interest in the patterns woven into the carpet. She continued talking to Mrs. Marin, something about wanting to set up a new charity fundraiser in Blaine’s honor.

  “Oh, Sybil, that’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Marin concurred. “He would’ve loved that.”

  My nails bit into the palms of my hands so hard, I was surprised I hadn’t drawn blood. I could picture his face. The contempt he and I both shared towards the snobbery our mothers masked as compassion.

  He would have hated that.

  I could see his face….

  I could see his face….

  I pinched my eyes shut, hoping to wash away the image. But all I could see was that night. That one faithful night that—unbeknownst to me—had put all of this into motion. Why did Adam have to leave me at that party? Why did he have to leave? If only he had stayed, none of this would have happened.

  “I am sooo sorry,” pleaded the server, scrambling to pick up the broken remains of the shattered flutes. A drunken Mr. Harding had practically tackled the poor girl as he ambled over toward his greatly peeved wife, knocking the server right off her feet. As a result, my legs and shoes were now soaked in Champaign. It really was par for the course. Adam abandoned me, again. Why? Why? Why? On top of that, Mom was treating me like a show horse out on display, and everyone was already drunk off their asses. And it was only seven o’clock.

  “It’s okay.” I knelt down, helping the girl gather up the pieces of glass onto the serving tray. Plenty of feet passed by us, but no one else seemed inclined to lend a helping hand. Once we were certain we’d picked up every last fleck of glass, I followed the server into the kitchen and dumped the mess into the trash.

  Masses of long curly locks fell into the girl’s eyes as she rushed around the counters, continuously apologizing. “I hope I didn’t ruin them,” she whimpered, pointing at my shoes.

  “That makes one of us,” I laughed, taking the bundle of cloth napkins she handed me to clean myself off. “I’m pretty sure Satan invented these.”

  I achingly pried the towering stilettos off, wiping up the inside soles where some Champaign had gathered.

  “Oh my God,” gasped the server. I followed her gaze down, seeing the bloody insides of my feet. The heels had been torture, and apparently more than I had imagined. Mom had just bought them for me, the insides an inflexible, hard plastic material that chafed the sides of my feet with every step. They’d been hurting, but I didn’t think it was this bad.

  “Let me go fetch you some Band-Aids.”

  “No, no. It’s okay—”

  “Really, I insist. It’s the least I could do,” said the server, darting for the hall.

  More servers, both men and women, came and went from the kitchen. I limped over to the corner, trying best to get out of their way as they swapped empty trays for ones with freshly stocked appetizers and alcohol. Everyone else from the party was too busy socializing in the rest of the magnificent manor that I thankfully found myself alone.

  “Where the hell have you been?” growled Mrs. Ryder. I startled at the sound of her voice, turning to see Sybil scowling at the base of the side staircase. Slow footsteps clomped down into the kitchen and a handsome black-haired boy emerged from the shadows. “The party started over forty minutes ago. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

  The young man, who couldn’t have been much older than me, stood lazily slouched in a dark blue suit as Sybil came up and started fussing over his tie.

  “Remember to ask Sabrina how her trip was, and don’t forget to talk to Lawrence Appleton, and—”

  “I know, Mother,” the young man huffed as Sybil tightened his tie in excess. “And I know how much you want me to look like a human Ken doll, but unlike him, I’m required to breathe.” He yanked at the tightly bound tie like it was a noose, loosening it enough again so that it didn’t appear to be choking him.

  “Straighten up, and sm
ile,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

  The raven-haired boy animatedly hopped to attention and smiled as broad as he could, widening his eyes for additionally asinine effect. I had to clamp my hands to my mouth to suppress my laughter, relieved to see neither still seemed to notice I was there.

  “Will you knock it off?” Sybil growled. “You look deranged.”

  “Then I should fit in just fine,” he countered.

  She merely cast him a tested look. The boy deflated, letting his features soften until they resembled something more natural.

  “Better.” Sybil ushered him out through the swinging kitchen door towards the ruckus of people.

  I stood there still waiting for the server to return, catching glimpses of the handsome young man as servers continued in and out of the kitchen. His smile seemed sincere enough, so long as nobody really paid too close attention. It never faltered, remaining plastic and unwavering, a sign that it was well rehearsed. But the smile never quite reached his eyes. I knew that look all too well. I wore it to every party Mom dragged me to.

  He continued surveying the room, appearing to map out the quickest way to get the hell out of there. The young man slinked back into the kitchen not a moment later, sighing exhaustedly as he yanked his tie clean off and relinquished a string of swear words.

  “Rough night, I take it?”

  He whirled on his heels, looking back at me like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh…shit.”

  I chuckled.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, ruffling a hand through his perfectly groomed hair enough that it left it properly tossled. “I’m just…uh…not feeling very well.”

  “Uh-huh.” I still couldn’t quite rid myself of my smile as the server returned with two large Band-Aids in hand. I thanked her, and she startled at the sight of the man. The server murmured something incoherent before quickly grabbing a tray and fleeing.

  I turned my attention back to the black-haired boy who was now looking at me quizzically. He took notice to the blood on the insides of my feet and moved in closer. “God, what happened?”