Daemons in the Mist (The Marked Ones Trilogy: Book One) (13 page)

“Oh—how?” Patrick asked cautiously.

I cringed; I hadn’t wanted to tell Patrick this until much later in the night. Preferably after he had had a few more drinks. “His body rejected the retrovirus. He died instead of becoming a daemon. It’s not common, but it does happen.”

Patrick sat bolt upright. “Wait,
what
virus?”

I looked down at the table. “Remember how I said not sleeping with me was a good thing?”

“
Yeah
?” Patrick said slowly.

“Well um—if I sleep with you, you will become one of us,” I confessed, still not meeting his eyes. I could feel the blush creeping across my cheeks.

“How exactly?”

I swallowed hard. “We carry a retrovirus in our blood. It re-encrypts your DNA, so you become a daemon.”

“Wait, so daemons are a
disease
?”

“In the very broadest of terms—yes.”

“Are there any side effects
other
than death?”

“No, and death isn’t very common. Some people’s bodies just contain a self-destruct button. Instead of letting your DNA be rewritten, it just kills you.”

“Sounds—fun,” Patrick said with a grimace. “Is it a quick death?”

“Unfortunately no, it isn’t,” I answered reluctantly. “Once passed to your body, it will take three to five days for it to rewrite your DNA. I’ve heard it’s a very painful process; like being on fire from the inside out.”

“Now those descriptions for demons and fiery hell make a lot more sense,” Patrick said with a wry smile.

“Yeah, funny that,” I said nervously.

Patrick fell silent again and took a few large gulps of his drink, finishing it off. I finished mine as I flagged down one of the passing drink girls to get us another round.

When the next set of drinks arrived Patrick finally asked, “So why are you telling me all your secrets? How do you know I’ll decide to become one of you?”

“One, I
promised
I would if you married me. You did, so I’m keeping my promise,” I answered holding up one finger. “Two, I made the assumption that you would like to keep on living,” I said, holding up a second finger.

“Wouldn’t everyone?” Patrick asked with an ironic smile.

“Since I cannot prove without a doubt to the Grand Council that I didn’t tell you our secrets last Friday, that leaves you with only two choices. Either you refuse to become a daemon and they execute you, or you become one of us and either die in the daemonification process, or we live happily ever after.” I took a long pause studying his face. “You have no idea how sorry I am about all this.”

“
I’m
not. Living happily ever after with you sounds a lot better than anything I could have hoped for in life.”

“So you’ve decided?” I asked slowly.

“Do I have a
choice
?”

“No, not really. But you still have to make it—formally.”

“
What
?” Patrick asked, wide-eyed.

“We have to go before the Grand Council on Sunday, and you have to speak your intent to become a daemon.”

“
Seriously
?” Patrick asked in a choked voice.

I nervously fiddled with my necklace. “Yeah, I just found out about that myself on Wednesday. I thought I could just file the license and get you a Blue Card, but no such luck.”

“Blue Card, isn’t that that thing your aunt was talking about?”

“Yeah, that pass you’re wearing tells daemons not to kill you,” I answered, pointing at the Blue Card hanging from his neck.

“Oh.” He picked it up and squinted at it. “Is
that
what it says?”

“You won’t be able to read it, so don’t even bother. It’s inscribed in a spectrum only daemons can see.”

“
Oh
—cool,” Patrick said, staring at it with far more interest. “So do people always have to get these?”

“No, they were originally intended for the children of Kalodaemons that were born human.”

Patrick looked back up at me quickly. “That can
happen
?”

“Not often.”

“But I’m not one of those, so why do I have one?” Patrick asked questioningly.

“You’re a special case, but the intent is the same. You’re not a daemon yet, but you will be soon.”

Patrick’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I was supposed to
already
be a daemon by now, wasn’t I.”

“Yeah, you were,” I said with a small smile. “This is kinda unprecedented for the most part. It must have happened at some point since there are rules and procedures for it, but I’ve never heard of it happening.”

There was a long pause, and Patrick’s face reddened. Without looking up from his drink he asked, “Is
it
the same as it is for humans?”

“What?
Oh
! Um—I’ve heard it’s much better,” I answered, turning equally red.

Patrick’s eyes darted up to mine. “
Really
?”

I coughed. “Yeah, we release a euphoric toxin that’s supposed to help you through the next week’s pain.”

Patrick took a big gulp of his drink; the blush in his cheeks had not disappeared if anything it had gotten redder. “Nature thinks of everything, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.” I took a few more sips of my drink and looked over at Patrick’s—which was empty. I gulped the rest of mine and turned to wave down Shelby. I held up two fingers, and she nodded before heading to the bar again, which was hopping because of the free drinks.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk again,” Patrick said with a crooked smile.

“
Again
? I didn’t force them down your throat before,” I said with mock outrage.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Patrick said, looking at his empty glass. “I’m in no way a stranger to these things.”

I smirked at him. “Neither am I.” But my smile fell when I saw his face. There was something there, a sadness that hadn’t been there before. I was debating asking if there was something bothering him, but I decided it was probably just all the stuff I had thrown at him. None of these were inconsequential schoolyard secrets. These were the life-changing kind; the dangerous kind that could get you killed if you weren’t careful.

Shelby arrived with our next round of drinks, and Patrick looked at his for a while before looking up at me. “So if you’re a daemon, how come you look just like a normal human girl?”

“I don’t, you just can’t see what I really look like,” I admitted as I nervously pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Why?” Patrick asked in confusion.

“We are masters of illusion. We refract the light around us, altering your perception, so we appear to be humans like you. We can also influence you, your thoughts, ideas, emotions.”

“Like the muses?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think the idea of muses came from?”

“So you can’t show me what you really look like?”

“No I can—it’s just really hard. Our illusionary fields are second nature to us. It takes a lot of concentration to drop them.”

“Oh,” Patrick said dejectedly.

“I can try, it’s just—I’m afraid that you won’t like me anymore once you see what I really look like,” I confessed avoiding his eyes.

Patrick put a hand on mine. “That’s not
even
a possibility.”

I looked up into his eyes; they were warm and inviting. “Okay…I’ll show you what I really look like—just promise me you won’t bolt for the door okay?”

18

Your Eyes

Friday, January 20th

PATRICK

“O
kay…I’ll show you what I really look like—just promise me you won’t bolt for the door okay?” Nualla looked so frightened as she said it, as if she truly feared I would. I tried to speak but couldn’t find my voice, so I just nodded. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. I looked at Nualla unblinking, so I wouldn’t miss a thing, but nothing happened.

I began to worry.
Did I miss something?
And then the air around her began to shimmer and change; like a ripple in a pond, but not like it at the same time. Slowly the image of her rematerialized into focus. Two dark blue ribbed horns swirled back from just above her ears, delicate and beautiful like a gazelle.

They were utterly captivating—that is, until she opened her eyes again. I was lost in them, their silvery blue glow drawing all of my attention as if there was nothing to look at but her. Everything around her fell away so that there was nothing but those eyes; eyes like captured moonlight. They drew you in, enticing, seductive, and luminous like a jungle cat’s. A fog crept into my brain dulling my senses to everything but them.

I must have been staring at her like an idiot, because she finally averted her eyes. “Please say something,” Nualla said in a small voice that was almost swallowed up by the music around us.

The minute she averted her eyes the fog in my head started to lift, and I found my voice again. “You’re beautiful…” I said, my voice trailing off as her eyes shot back up to mine.

She apparently hadn’t been expecting me to say that; it was plainly obvious in the look on her face. “What did you say?”

“Yes…
wait
—what were we talking about?” I couldn’t think straight when I looked into her eyes. Hell, I couldn’t even remember to breathe. I managed to tear my eyes away and look down at the table. “You must know how beautiful you are?”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” she asked uneasily.

“Your eyes—they’re so mesmerizing, I can’t think straight when I look into them.”

“
Oh
!” she said, startled. “Is this better?”

I looked back up; the mesmerizing twinkling glow had dissipated to a more tolerable amount. They were still enchanting, but not to the point where I was going to keel over from forgetting to breathe. “Yes.”

Nualla still looked uncomfortable, but a lot less terrified. Before tonight, I had never seen her look anything other than fearlessly beautiful. She always seemed to live life like a duck in a pond, problems rolling off her back like they were nothing more than water drops.

I reached out a tentative hand trying my hardest to keep it from shaking, fearing that if it did she would bolt like a frightened deer. Quietly I asked, “Can I touch them?”

She moved back ever so slightly. “My horns?”

I nodded.

She ran her teeth over her bottom lip and looked down to the side then back up at me again. “Sure…I guess.”

I extended my hand toward her, lightly touching the curved horns. They were very solid, no illusion there. I drew my hand across the ribbed surface then down her cheek letting it rest there. “How anyone could think of your kind as monsters is beyond me. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Nualla’s eyes got a funny look in them, and she leapt at me. In any other situation when someone jumps you, panicking would be the proper response. But when a completely gorgeous girl jumps you, you just kinda go with it.

She slid into my lap, her dress hiking dangerously high up her thigh. Something about this felt oddly familiar. Flashes of last Friday filled my mind rapidly, and I was nearly knocked senseless by their enticing caress.
What did I do?
was the last thing that entered my mind before her lips hit mine and erased all other thought.

Nualla gripped my shirt and pulled me even closer as her lips pressed against mine. My hand seemed to move of its own accord as it slid up her thigh to the small of her back and pushed her even closer to me. Her kisses moved across to my face; her warm breath heavy in my ear. That set something off in my brain, and my eyes shot open.

“
Geez
you two, get a room. This
is
a public place you know.” I looked up to see Nikki smirking at us with her hands on her hips. I had been so caught up in
what
we were doing I had completely forgotten
where
we were doing it.

Nualla sat bolt upright a deep red flush across her normally pale skin. Without a word, she slipped off my lap onto the booth seat. She was breathing heavily as if she had been jogging up the steep incline of Powell Street.

“What exactly was
that
all about?” I asked breathlessly.

Shawn just smiled as he folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the booth. “Well most teenagers have crazy hormones running through their bodies, but they don’t have nothing on daemons.”

“Yeah, our hormones don’t just affect us, they affect everyone around us as well,” Nikki said, gesturing to the room with her head.

“And when you get the two of you together, your emotions will bounce back and forth between you,” Shawn said, his smile broadening.

“Right…now Vegas makes a lot more sense,” I said as I took a few steadying breaths. I couldn’t remember a lot about that night in Vegas, but I could remember some of the feelings.

It suddenly felt
very
hot in here.

We continued drinking at the club until way past two in the morning. I was so drunk by the time the taxi dropped me off at home I was barely able to get my front door open. I sat there stabbing my key at the door for several minutes before I was able to get it to go in.

Finally I turned the key and pushed the door open. Letting it close behind me, I flailed against the wall for the light switch but gave up. Light would have probably done more damage than good in the state I was in, anyway.

I took a few wobbly steps forward and stupidly tried to take my shoes off while still standing. With one shoe half off, I lost my balance and reached out to catch the counter; I succeeded only in sending a bowl of fruit flying as I crashed to the floor. “
Dammit
!” I cursed loudly.

“Patrick?” I looked up slowly to see the silhouette of my mother standing in the darkness on the landing of the stairs. “Did you just get home?”

This was not good; I had forgotten they would be coming home today, and currently I was piss-ass drunk, sitting on the floor with one shoe on, surrounded by a pile of spilt fruit.
Crap
, what was I going to do now? I was usually alone when I was drunk, or Connor was here and we were binging on anime. I had never actually had to pretend to be sober before.

Since she hadn’t asked about the fruit, I decided not to bother explaining it; it would mean more talking. Talking too long just got you into more trouble.

Okay Patrick, concentrate. It’s dark, if you don’t slur your words, she won’t notice you’re completely wasted.

I took a deep breath and lied through my teeth. “Yeah, me and Connor went to the midnight release of
Whisper
.” I took another deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh, okay.” She turned to go back up the stairs, and I thought I was home free, but then she turned back. “What on earth are you doing on the floor with all that fruit?”

Crap, apparently she
had
noticed the mess. “Um…I was taking off my shoes, and I slipped.” I hoped it didn’t come out sounding too much like a question.

“Oh, well you’ll clean it up, won’t you? I’m going back to sleep,” she said with a yawn.

“Sure Mom, no problem,” I said in the steadiest voice I could.

I waited until I heard her door close before I flopped backward onto the floor. I wished I didn’t have to get up; I really didn’t want to tempt my fate trying to walk up those stairs just now. If it had been just me here, I would have just stayed on the floor till morning. But I wasn’t alone, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wished I was.