Inception (The Marked Book 1) (15 page)

“They won’t give me a Handler until you do.”

“That’s not my problem,” he said icily.

I winced at his disregard and twisted for the door, afraid of what I might say or do next if I didn’t walk away right that second.

I heard him cuss under his breath as he reached out and caught my arm again. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“So you’ll Pledge?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, then you can go to hell.” I pulled my arm free and made a push for the door, refusing to look back even after he called out my name. The way I saw it, I was pretty much doomed—a dead girl walking. And Trace just loaded the gun.

I spent most of the day locked in a battle of patience with the clock, counting down the minutes until I could be free of this place—of Trace, and the constant reminder of a situation that appeared to be getting bleaker by the day. I felt hopeless, and restless, and angry that the seconds refused to tick by faster, like this day had been one big conspiracy, intended to drag out my misery to unfathomable proportions.

“Well? Let’s hear it,” said Zane when I sat down on one of the stools in front of his bar.

“Hear what?” I barely lifted my eyes.

“Whatever it is that has you in this funk.”

“It’s not a funk. And I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, picking apart a paper napkin.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I’m a bartender. This is pretty much what I do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that,” he smiled, wiping down the counter in front of me. After a few wipes, he leaned in closer and whispered, “Who’s the
T-D-H
at nine o’clock?”

My face contorted. “Huh?”

“Tall, dark and handsome—just walked in. He’s staring right at you,” he said, covertly ticking his head offside.

I peered over my shoulder to the door and saw Gabriel standing there by the threshold, not quite willing to come in all the way. He nodded to me, which I could only assume was his way of summoning me over.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and slipped off the stool.

“Famous last words.”

I had no idea what Gabriel was doing here, but from the look on his face, I could tell it wasn’t a casual call. Unfortunately, something inside of me was also speaking and it was telling me I didn’t want to know, that I should turn around right now and put as much distance between the two of us as humanly possible. I guess old habits really do die hard.

“Can I talk you outside for a minute?” he asked, holding the door open for me.

I nodded wearily and stepped outside, inhaling sharply as the crisp night air collided with my exposed skin. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Dominic was here tonight,” he said matter-of-factly as he ushered me away from the front entrance.

I jerked at the mention of his name.

“He’s gone,” he assured. “Though not without difficulty.” He looked down at something in his hand and then raised it up to me. A single, long-stem black rose stared back at me dauntingly.

“What the heck is that?”

“Compliments of Dominic,” he said tartly. “He was pretty intent on giving it to you himself, though I insisted he not.” He chucked the rose sideways, and not a moment too soon.

“I didn’t know you were...” I trailed off, realizing Gabriel had been here this whole time, keeping watch. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, glancing over at the door and then back at me, his expression troubled. “He intends to talk to you and he’ll try it again the first chance he gets.”

I felt my heart rate accelerate; an automatic response to the thought of having to see Dominic again. “Talk to me about what?” I asked shakily. He had his fun—the game was over. What more could he possibly have left to say?

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”

I felt sick. I wasn’t ready to see Dominic. It was too much, too soon. I was starting to shiver now, though I told myself it was from the cold air, and not from the fear.

“I think you should reconsider going to the Council,” he said as he shrugged off his leather jacket and then wrapped it around my shoulders. “It may be the only way to protect yourself. You don’t know the real Dominic—what he’s capable of—especially when it comes to something he wants,” he added, tucking his hands into his dark jeans.

He was only wearing a fitted, dark green T-shirt now, though he was clearly unaffected by the cold.

“And what is it that he wants exactly?” I asked, pushing my arms through the sleeves. It smelled of leather and mint.

“I’m not sure yet.”

I swallowed hard. “But you think it involves me?”

He nodded, regretful.

The sudden rush of emotions caused me to stammer back, dizzy from the realization that this thing with Dominic wasn’t over yet, that I wasn’t free of him, or safe from him. I leaned back against the building and tried to steady my breathing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a cautious step towards me. His concern felt genuine, like my safety and well-being mattered to him, which was strange because he didn’t even know me up until yesterday.

“It’s been a long day.”

He gestured to my neck. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

I nodded that he could and then tried not to flinch when his cool fingers brushed my hair back to inspect the wound. “It’s almost healed,” I told him absentmindedly, looking up at the pitch sky, the stars, the moon—anything but his face.

“Yes, it looks much better,” he agreed and took a step back, satisfied with his inspection. “There’s a number of different enzymes in our bite, one of which has a fairly powerful healing agent,” he explained, burying his hands again. “The mark should be gone by morning.”

“Great,” I mumbled. “It’ll be good and fresh for Dominic when he comes back for seconds.”

“You know what he is now. You don’t have to let him near you again,” he said, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light. “You can
stop
him from getting close enough.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“You’re not as helpless as you think you are.”

“You’re right. I did take all those years of badminton in gym class. That’s got to count for something, right?”

He wasn’t amused. “I mean, you’re stronger than you think you are. Your power is inside of you, you simply haven’t tapped into it yet, but with a little training—”

“Training,” I huffed bitterly. “That doesn’t seem to be an option for me right now. I don’t have a Keeper, which means no Handler is willing to take me on, which means I can’t start training. So tell me again how I’m not helpless?”

“I’m sure the Council will find an alternate to stand-in and teach you some of the basics, at least until they can find a permanent solution. It isn’t ideal, but it’s not hopeless.”

“Then why haven’t they done it?”

He shook his head. “I’m not privy to all the details—”

“What about you?” I blurted out. “Weren’t you a Handler before? Why can’t you train me?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good—”

“Why not?” I interjected before he could finish turning me down. “You’re a Revenant, and you’re Dominic’s brother. Who better to teach me than you?”

“I’m sure you’d be better suited with someone else.”

“Please, Gabriel. I don’t have anyone else,” I pleaded, realizing I wasn’t above resorting to tears.

His face softened, acquiescence looming on the edges. “I’m only going to be in town for a couple of weeks, at the most. I don’t see what good it would do.”

“A couple of weeks training is better than no weeks training, isn’t it? Come on, Gabriel, you could help me if you wanted to. I know you can.”

He ran his hand over the length of his face. “I suppose I could train with you while I’m in town, or at least until they find something permanent,” he said and then held up his hand when I began to squeal. “Providing the Council approves it.”

The way he said it led me to believe the chances of that happening weren’t exactly in my favor.

“They’ll approve it,” I said boldly. “They have to.” Because I wasn’t going to give them a choice.

This was happening one way or another. Gabriel was my best chance at learning the skills I needed to keep myself alive. My only chance, really. It was him or nothing. If the Council couldn’t see it my way, I would just have to find a way to make this happen without them.

19. TRAINING DAY

The rain battered the windshield as my uncle and I pulled up to
Temple
on the east side of town. The limestone structure was ornamented with rows of dimly lit windows, strange alabaster carvings, and a gated walkway that drew from the edge of the sidewalk all the way up to the bronze door.

“I don’t understand why Gabriel and I can’t just train at the house,” I said defiantly as I looked through the blurring glass at the menacing building outside my window.

“Because that isn’t the way we do things.”

“What difference does it make to
them
if I—”

“Don’t push your luck, Jemma.” My uncle interjected before I could finish my argument. “It’s a wonder the Council even approved this with the amount of opposition they had.”

“Opposition?” I flinched back, surprised.

“Surely you can appreciate how unconventional this is.” He looked at me expectantly. “The Order is built on tradition. Rites and Customs that have been adhered to for centuries, to advance us in our mission, and to protect us—our identities, our safety, our lineage. Anything that threatens to disrupt that security is naturally not going to be well-received.”

“But this isn’t even about that. This is about me.” More to the point, this was about me staying alive, I thought, bitingly.

“Yes, it is about you. But it’s also about Peter Macarthur. And Trace Macarthur,” he said purposefully. “It’s about order. There are other factors in this equation whether you are prepared to recognize them or not. I suggest you not tempt the fates any more than you already have.”

I turned back to the building acridly, realizing where the core opposition had come from: from Trace’s father, my boss. I wondered how close he had come to stopping this from happening. To stopping me from getting the training I desperately needed.

I couldn’t help but wonder what other unknown
factors
might be out there, and just how many of those unknowns might wind up getting directly in my way again.

The lobby was quaint, circular in form, with glossy marble floors and cream colored walls. There was an empty reception desk at the front and a waiting area with red chairs and a glass coffee table at the center. Something about the room looked staged, as though it were all playing host to a sorted illusion.

The fortified doors on either side of the reception desk were unmarked, locked, and appeared to be leading to opposite sides of the building. I followed my uncle to the left door nearest the reception desk and watched as he swiped a plastic card through the security reader.

The light flashed green and the door unlocked, allowing us to pile into a small holding area where we waited in front of another armored door while the one behind us closed.

One could easily become incredibly claustrophobic in such a tight space, I thought, wiping my palms against my jeans. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

Ignoring me, my uncle pushed his thumb into what looked like a fingerprint identification machine, and then stood back as a woman’s mechanical voice sounded over the speakers.

“Welcome, Karl Blackburn. Please enter your personal identification pass code.”

He fingered six numbers into the keypad, and then waited for the light to flash green before turning the knob, giving us access into the cavernous building known as Temple. 

“What was all that about?” I asked as we walked through the atrium. Guarding sphinxes and stone columns lined both side.

“Precautions,” he said simply. “This particular sector of the Order isn’t open to the public, for obvious reasons. What goes on between these walls is one thing, the invaluable artifacts we safeguard here is another. We cannot allow just anyone to walk in.”

“What sort of artifacts?” I asked as I blindly followed him through the large, double doors at the end the atrium.

My head was still turned to him when he ticked his square chin forward, directing my attention into the room.

Two men stood together at the center of what looked like a large, empty assembly hall. The rectangular room had high ceilings, black and white tessellated flooring, and was flanked with theater-style seats on either side of the room. At the crown, a platform with seven leather chairs positioned at different intervals was regally presiding over the space.

I immediately recognized the man on the right as Gabriel. The other one was older, possibly in his late fifties, with hoary hair tapered around a smooth face, and he was wearing an all-black ankle length robe fashioned with silver buttons all the way down the front flap. It had the distinct look of a cassock though the wedding band on his finger made it apparent that he wasn’t a member of the clergy.

“This is she?” asked the man as we approached them. He already had his hand extended to me when he asked the question.

“Yes, my youngest niece, Jemma.”

I shook his hand and glanced over at Gabriel. He was standing quietly with his hands crossed in front of him and his head slightly lowered. He reminded me of a well-trained lackey.

“This is William Thompson,” said my uncle, steering my attention back to the man. “He’s our Council’s Senior
Magister
.”

That tidbit told me nothing.

“I’m quite pleased to finally meet you, Jemma,” said William. “We’re all incredibly fond of your sister and the work she’s done. She’s one of our brightest pupils.”

My sister
? I thought dimly.

Of course he knew Tessa. What was I thinking? She probably stood in this very spot, walked these very halls, trained in this very building. Strangely enough, the thought hadn’t occurred to me until just then.

“Indeed, she is,” agreed my uncle, the pride evident in his eyes whenever he spoke of Tessa. “Jemma has much to live up to, but let’s not forget that she too is a Blackburn. I imagine she’ll be a natural, just like her sister.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” agreed William, his smile reaching all the way up to his benevolent brown eyes.

Um, I do
. I couldn’t help but think of my past run-ins with vampires, particularly the last one with Dominic and how I’d only narrowly escaped with my life, thanks solely to Gabriel’s aid. Nothing about that felt
natural
to me, certainly not the part where I almost got myself killed.

My eyes bounced to Gabriel who smiled back faintly—probably out of pity, because
he
knew the truth.

“You’ll be in good hands with Gabriel,” assured William, catching our exchange. “He’s one of our finest Warriors, and truly an invaluable member of this Order.”

“Thank you, Magister.” Gabriel dipped his head in gratitude.

It was nice to know that not all Council members were against our pairing.

“Ah, Julian, right on time,” smiled William.

I followed his eyes to a slender, dark haired man that had come up from behind us. He greeted William and my uncle but made no eye contact with me or Gabriel.

“Julian here is one of our top Sentinels,” informed William. “He’ll be overseeing your training with Gabriel.”

“
Overseeing
?” I couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. Was he going to be evaluating my performance and reporting back to the Council? Or was he there to spy on us because they didn’t trust Gabriel to be alone with me?

“Think of him as a guard of sorts, for your protection. You won’t even notice him there.”

“Right.” I eyed Julian suspiciously.
Spy it is
. 

“Very good then,” chimed my uncle after a brief repose of uncomfortable silence. “What do you say we leave them to it?”

“Certainly,” agreed William and then turned to Gabriel with his hand extended. “She’s in your hands now, Gabriel. Do right by her, and your brethren. I’ll expect to hear an update on her progress by the end of the week.”

“Of course.” Gabriel shook his hand, and then my uncle’s before leading us out of the room and back into the atrium.

I followed behind Gabriel and Julian as they led us through a slender corridor that connected to a large steel door on the opposite side of the atrium. We passed through the threshold in silence and descended a dark, winding staircase into the lower level of the building. The underground tunnels—built with a mixture of concrete, steel reinforcements, and fortified wood paneling—stretched deep into the underbelly of the cellar, and seemed to split off into several directions, each one peppered with doors at various points in the procession.

“What is this place?” I asked as we veered left down the first intersection. My voice sounded small here, distant, as though it had been insulated from itself.

“We call it the
Lab
. It houses our main training facilities and weaponry vaults.” He stopped in front of a bolted door and pressed his finger into the reader.

I glanced up at Julian who stood beside me, towering over me by nearly a full foot. “I’m Jemma by the way,” I said, extending my hand to him as I examined his features—dark eyes, strong Roman nose, goatee.

“I know who you are.”

He peeked down at my hand but didn’t bother taking it.

Okay then
. Chatty
and
friendly. “Nice to meet you, too,” I muttered to his back as he walked into the room ahead of us.

“After you,” said Gabriel, holding the door open.

The room was extensive and surprisingly well lit in comparison to the dank hallway we had just come in from. The concrete floors were covered in blue sparring mats and the walls were railed with an impressive assortment of artillery and other oddly shaped weapons I couldn’t name.

“What is all this stuff?” I asked, peering around the room.

“Just a few of the many weapons you’ll eventually learn to use,” said Gabriel, his demeanor all-business. He seemed perfectly at ease here as though he himself were a biological extension of the room.

I watched as he walked over to the bench lined up against the back wall and carefully removed his leather jacket. He placed it down on the bench and then moved to the matted area at the center of the room. Eyebrows furrowed, he crooked his finger and motioned for me to join him as Julian took his seat next to the door.

I dug my feet into the ground and crossed my arms. This whole training-with-a-vampire-to-kill-vampires
thing
just got a little too real for me.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I just...I don’t...” I shifted my weight around, trying to form a cohesive thought. “It’s a lot to take,” I finally said.

He stared at me expressionless.

“Being here, seeing all these weapons.” I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

His eyebrows rose.

“Figures,” snorted Julian.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t bother looking up from his magazine.

“Never mind him,” said Gabriel as he sauntered back over to where I stood. “Just focus on why we’re here.” He took me by the wrist and towed me to the mat. “We’ll start slow. Just the basics,” he added, carefully removing my zippered hoodie and tossing it onto the bench behind us.

I noticed he took great care not to touch my skin and wondered if it was for Julian’s benefit, or his own.

“What are the basics?” I asked, rubbing my arms for warmth.

“Whatever it is you need to know to get to the next level. Right now, for
you
, the basics are defensive tactics.”

I actually liked the sound of that.

“Once you’re comfortable with your ability to self-defend,” he said as he repositioned the mat, “you’ll move on to other things like offensive striking, unarmed combat practice, assault drills, weapons training—” He stopped abruptly, remarking the horror in my eyes. “But for now, we’ll just stick to the basics,” he reiterated in a gentler tone.

I glanced down at my skinny jeans and camisole. “What about my clothes?” I had assumed tonight was going to be more of a
meet-and-greet
session and didn’t really think to dress for an actual training session.

“They’re fine,” he said without looking. “You need to be able to do this in your everyday clothes.”

“No one’s going to care what you’re wearing, kid,” snipped Julian, his tone unmistakably mocking. 

“No one was talking to you!” I snapped back. What the heck was this guy’s problem anyway?

“That’s right, I have a pulse. I’m not your type.”

“Exactly.”
Wait
. “What—?”

“That’s enough, Julian.” Gabriel put himself directly in front of me. “If you’re unable, or unwilling to perform your duty, I’ll be more than happy to have the Council reassign you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Julian, looking embarrassed now. He quickly shifted his attention back to his magazine and didn’t say another word to either of us.

Gabriel turned back to me, his eyes doleful. “Come on,” he said, ticking his head towards the mat.