The Marked Girl (29 page)

“Wraths. Knights.” Peter shook his head, but was still smiling. “I still can't believe it. I mean, I can; it makes so much sense. Of course all this stuff is real . . . it's just so . . . awesome.”

Liv pulled back slightly from her brother. She looked to Joe, who sighed. “I've been filling Peter in. He believes me, but maybe doesn't understand the . . . severity of the situation.”

“Of course I understand the severity,” Peter said, pushing his glasses up his nose. In that one moment, Liv instantly saw
the overly serious, imaginative eight-year-old boy Peter had been when she last saw him. Her chest tightened. “That doesn't mean it isn't exciting.”

“Um . . . right,” Liv said.

“If the wraths know where you are, we need to get everyone out of here, and soon,” Joe said.

Before Liv could respond, Shannon ran up to them, her shoes slapping against the sand. Liv took one look at Shannon's ashen face, and her heart dropped.

“It's Merek,” Shannon said. “He just fell on the beach, and he won't wake up.”

C
edric had never been in a room like this one before. The walls were painted in muted colors, and the smell was impossible to describe. It was a bit sour, but it also burned his nose every time he inhaled in a way that was only slightly more pleasant than breathing in ash and smoke the previous night.

But even worse were the people. People perched on tiny, colorful chairs. People pacing, running their hands through their hair. People in uniforms running up and down the brightly lit halls. People crying.

Cedric hated it.

But he had to wait with all the others to hear whether or not Merek was seriously injured. The horrible smell of the place—what Joe and Liv called a “hospital”—combined with Cedric's own guilt to form a small pit of nausea in his stomach. Liv had tried to get all of them to eat a few “snacks,” but the extremely orange, perfectly square crackers she offered up made Cedric's stomach clench. If she had offered him roasted boar with plum sauce, he wouldn't have been able to take even a bite.

How could he eat when Merek might be dying?

And it was all his fault?

For the twentieth time, Cedric stood up and left the group sitting on the hard plastic chairs—all except Joe, who was talking to the healers—to walk to a large window on the other side of the room. He couldn't stop picturing the position of Merek's body where it had fallen down in the wet sand, or the bone-white color of his face as they'd lifted him into Joe's vehicle.

Merek had hardly been breathing then. His eyes fluttered open, but it was as though he couldn't see any of them. If they'd been in Caelum, Merek would have been taken to the healers' quarters, a long, airy space on the outer edge of the castle. But in this realm, they went to the hospital, and Cedric had no idea if these busy people in their thin, colored uniforms would be able to help his friend.

The friend Cedric had, just last night, slammed against the ground again and again, too angry to care that he was already injured.

Cedric stared out the window at the trees and buildings and hills of LA, but he didn't really see any of it. Someone came up to stand right behind him and he knew, without turning, who it was.

“You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Cedric replied.

Kat looked out the window. “It's almost beautiful, from up here. When you cannot smell the trash or hear the noise, it's . . . peaceful. Now that we are so close to going home, even I can admit not everything about Earth is terrible.”

Cedric refused to meet her eyes. “How can we go back there without . . . if Merek does not . . .”

“He will. He was a bit knocked about, but we all were. He will be fine. Very soon, we are all going home. Together.”

The fierceness in her voice almost made Cedric believe her. He longed to, he did. But at the same time, his stomach roiled with guilt. Because it was not just Merek on his conscience. He could never tell Kat about that secret, small part of himself that didn't want to go home at all. The part that had opened up the second he met Liv. Possibly even before—possibly when he was running through the streets of this strange world, lost and confused and . . . free. The part that thought, just for a moment, that he might have a purpose in the world other than the one he'd been born to. Every second he'd been with Liv, his true life had felt so far away. Living in his princely suite, hunting in the forests, having banquets with his parents and the townsfolk. Marrying Kat. All of that seemed, for the first time, changeable. The future hinted at other things, and it had felt . . . good.

But that feeling had clouded his judgment, and now they were here.

“He really will be fine,” Kat said, misinterpreting Cedric's silence. “And when we are home, we can deal with what Emme has done.”

Cedric started. Even though Emme now sat, improbably, just twenty feet away from him, he hadn't given her much thought since the moment Merek collapsed.

“We should not be too harsh,” Kat said, her voice low. “I cannot imagine what it must have been like for her, locked up in a cell all this time.”

“Do you think she is right? That we should barter Liv and her siblings for our parents' freedom?” He didn't dare to look at Kat while waiting for her answer.

She sounded hesitant when she answered. “Are you having doubts about your decision to keep them safe?”

Cedric sighed. “I doubt everything. If I were a stronger leader, I would trade over Liv, her brother, and sister without hesitation to free our families.”

“Then you would be an idiot.”

Surprised, Cedric looked over to Kat. Her jaw was set, determined.

“Why do you think I supported your decision?” Kat asked. “Have I ever struck you as being overly fond of Liv?”

Cedric gave a small smile. “Not particularly.”

Kat continued, “I trust you, Cedric, but I know you have feelings for her. And when we open that portal and part ways, I will be happy to never hear the name Liv Phillips for as long as I live.”

Kat moved to stand in front of Cedric, so she was facing him. “I supported your decision because it was the right one. What assurances do you have that Malquin would even hold his promise to Emme? Why would he free the king and queen? It makes no sense. And once he has what he wants . . . who knows what he will do then? The scrolls are our greatest leverage against him, and we cannot just hand them over.” Kat paused before adding, “I think your father would agree.”

Cedric's eyes fell to the floor. Just hearing the word
father
was like taking a blow to the stomach. And was it true? Would
his father agree with him? Would his father approve of anything he'd done since falling out of that portal and landing in the middle of this foreign world?

Probably not. Still, Kat believed in him. That meant something.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, then turned back to face the window. “It has been a rough few days. A rough few months, really. But we have all survived. And soon, everything will be as it was. You will see.”

Cedric wished he could believe her—and even more, he wished that her vision of the future could provide some bit of comfort. But he was beginning to suspect already that some things, once changed, could never really be the same again. Not Caelum, not Merek, not Emme. Not even himself.

Liv knew she was exhausted, but a prickly sort of energy kept her from dozing off in the waiting room chair. It had been only a few days since she'd sat here, alone, waiting to hear about Rita's fate. Now she was in a similar position, but somehow, impossibly, she was surrounded by her family.

It seemed crazy to have Peter on one side of her and Daisy on the other. Daisy slumped against her plastic seat back, eyes falling shut every few moments. But Peter was wide awake and sparking. He wanted to hear everything about what had happened to Liv. She told him in hushed tones, while Cedric and Kat whispered by the window, and Emme stared at her, warily, from a few chairs over.

“It's all so hard to believe,” Peter said, for the millionth time.

Shannon, who was sitting next to Peter, responded before Liv could. “Believe it.”

“But there's a whole other world. Isn't that intense? Scientists have been looking for other worlds for who knows how long, and now we know of one that exists. And we can get there any time we want.”

“It's not that simple,” Liv said, a bit uneasily. She thought of Malquin's damaged arm, and his even more damaged plan. She thought of earthquakes and fire and holes in the world. But she didn't say any of this out loud. She didn't want to scare off her brother, now that she'd just gotten him back.

Peter uncrossed his long arms and leaned forward in his chair, his legs bouncing with jittery energy. “Things like this are rarely simple . . .”

“You have a lot of experience with traveling between worlds, do you?” Shannon cut in.

Peter pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Not actual experience, no. Not yet.”

Liv was about to ask what Peter meant when Joe was suddenly there, standing at the door of the waiting room. She jumped up and ran over to him, but she wasn't as fast as Cedric and Kat.

“Merek is stable,” Joe said right away. “But he's not out of the woods entirely.”

“Woods?” Cedric asked, his voice tinged with panic.

“I'm sorry, I meant to say that Merek should be fine,” Joe responded. Like everyone else, he had dark circles under his eyes. “He had a pretty significant concussion—a type of wound
caused by a knock to the head—and the blood loss and smoke inhalation didn't help. The doctors want to keep him here for another day at least, but probably more.”

Cedric breathed out, slowly, and Kat put an arm on his shoulder.

“We will stay here then,” she said.

Joe shook his head. “Unfortunately, you can't. The police are already on their way to question me about what happened to Merek. I can try to answer their questions as best I can, but with all of you here—especially you, Cedric—it will be too difficult.”

“Why especially him?” Liv hadn't even noticed that Peter had come up to stand behind her until he spoke.

“Cedric is currently wanted by the police. And even if that weren't true, it's too dangerous having you all here, out in the open where anyone could find you or ask questions. If your names and descriptions got into the wrong file, the Knights could track you down all over again.”

Liv nodded, but Cedric shook his head. “We cannot just leave Merek behind.”

“I'm not suggesting you leave your friend behind,” Joe said. “Just let me handle this situation and lie low for a couple of days. It's the only way to keep you from behind bars.”

Even Cedric seemed to understand that expression.

“But where will we go?” Liv interjected.

“My place is too risky,” Joe said. “I have no idea if Malquin knows where it is, or if he still has wraths here doing his bidding.”

Joe's eyes shot to Emme, but she was all wide eyes and innocence.

“Plus, there are the Knights. If they haven't connected me
to the three of you yet, they surely will soon. You need a better place to hide,” Joe said.

“Hide?” Peter exclaimed. “Aren't these the villains who killed your little brother, Joe? We should fight them.”

None of the group, still tired and covered in a layer of ash and bruises, answered him.

“I think I might know of a place,” a voice piped up from the plastic chairs behind them. Liv turned, surprised, to see that Daisy was fully awake and standing. “I mean, if you don't mind the beach.”

“The beach?” Peter asked.

“My parents have a house in Malibu,” Daisy said. “It's not super big, just, like, four bedrooms, but it's pretty secluded.”

Liv's eyes didn't go to Joe's, but to Cedric's. He stared at her for just a moment before giving a brief nod and turning away.

Liv nodded, too. “Malibu it is.”

T
he Malibu beach house was surrounded on three sides by an iron fence, even though there wasn't another house nearby for nearly a half-mile in each direction. The fourth side of the estate sat on a rocky bluff that faced the ocean. A winding set of stairs ran from the back door of the “not super big” house down to the pristine, empty beach.

The room where Liv was now resting with Peter and Daisy was equally pristine, though Daisy claimed it hadn't been used in months. She'd been able to get inside the gates with a code, though they'd had to break into the actual house by smashing through a window since Daisy couldn't risk going back to her old house for the key. Before leaving the hospital, she'd asked Joe if he could at least check up on what had happened to the two security guards at her parents' estate. As for what he'd tell her parents or even the police—Liv could only guess.

Cedric and Kat didn't want to leave Merek completely alone while Joe talked with police officers, so Shannon had agreed to stay on in the waiting room. She, after all, had parents who
could vouch for her, even if they would be furious with her for sneaking out of the house—again. So Liv had hugged Shannon tight, thanked her, and apologized (though how could any thanks or apologies ever be enough?), and left her behind, taking Joe's van along with the others out to Daisy's beach house.

And even though Liv hadn't slept in who-knew-how-many hours, and was now sitting on the softest mattress she'd ever felt in her life, she still couldn't force her eyes to close.

There was no way she could sleep, not with Peter and Daisy there in the same room with her. Daisy was curled up against a pillow next to Liv, her feet swinging over the edge of the bed. She was cleaned and showered, and unlike the others, had barely a scratch to show for the horror movielike experience she'd just been through. For the first time in hours, Daisy seemed more like her regular self—like the girl who had stood with her hands on her hips and challenged a group of strangers trespassing on her lawn.

“Can I see your tattoo? Or whatever it is,” Liv asked Peter, who was sitting on the twin bed opposite.

Peter shrugged and half turned, lifting up his shirt to show his markings. It was an exact replica of Liv's.

“Joe said that you must have had it when we were kids,” Liv said. “But I don't remember . . .”

“I kinda do,” Peter replied, pulling his shirt back down over his lanky torso. “Mom was really worried, and we went to a few doctors. I didn't understand what was happening, really.”

“Do you remember the fire?” Daisy asked. The way she asked it, so lightly, was jarring to Liv. Then she realized Daisy
probably had no memories of it, and was thankful for that.

Peter exchanged a quick look with Liv. His expression, so serious, tugged at the corners of her memory in an unpleasant way. It wasn't just that he was so similar to the eight-year-old boy Liv once knew—it was that he was a mix of that boy and their father. Liv could see it now, and it brought back images of her father she'd been pushing down for years. The sweep of his hairline, the ears that stuck out just a bit too far, the mouth that was just a bit too big for his face.

“Yes,” Peter responded. “I do.”

Daisy looked like she was about to ask more questions about it, so Liv cut her off, trying to keep her voice light. “So what have you been up to, Peter? Where do you live? Where do you go to school? I want to know all about you.” Liv shot a glance to Daisy. “About both of you.”

Peter leaned back heavily against the wall, stretching his legs out horizontally over the edge of the bed. “Not much to know, really. I've been in a bunch of foster homes, most of them in Fresno. Four different high schools. It was hard to make friends that way, until I got into D&D.”

“D&D?” Daisy asked.

“Dungeons & Dragons. It's this role-playing game . . . kind of hard to describe. But there was always a group of kids who played it in every high school I went to, which was nice. Like, wherever I went, I had a kind of home, you know?”

Liv nodded.

“But now, looking back on it, I wonder if there was more to it,” Peter continued, his eyes taking on a far-off look. “I always
kind of felt like I was preparing for something. Like I always knew the world had more to offer me than trig tests and crappy foster parents. I always had this feeling like I was kind of, I guess, different somehow. More than other people. And now I know that's true.”

Peter smiled, but a chill ran down Liv's spine. Peter's words called Malquin to mind, sitting in that warehouse and putting a gnarled finger to her face.
We're survivors. Special. Why waste time thinking about those who aren't?

“I don't know if being different has worked out for us so far. If we're going to stay safe, we may need to go into hiding.” Liv looked to Daisy. “How Joe is going to convince your parents of that, I have no idea . . .”

“I doubt Mike and Shana will mind,” Daisy said, shrugging. “They've been trying to get me to go to boarding school for years. Or to start building off-Broadway cred in New York.” Her eyes drifted. “I wonder if anyone's told them yet, about . . . what happened. At the house.”

Liv reached over to carefully touch Daisy's shoulder. She was worried her sister might pull away, but she didn't.

“Do you get along with them? Your parents?” Peter asked, either not sensing Daisy's sudden sadness or trying to distract her from it.

Daisy shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, they're great and everything. They got me this moped for my birthday, had it painted pink and all. But sometimes I wonder . . . I don't remember my birth parents at all. Our parents. What were they like?”

Thankfully, Peter spoke first.

“I wish I could tell you what they were like, as people,” he said. “But I only knew them as a kid. I didn't know if they were smart or funny or cool. They took care of me when I was sick and told us stories at bedtime.” He shrugged. “They were . . . parents.”

Daisy nodded, as if this answered her question. She swung her legs up onto the bed and lay back on her pillow. “I'm glad I found you guys, even if this has been the weirdest night of my whole life.”

Liv smiled. “Me too. Hopefully, things won't get too much weirder.”

“I hope they do,” Peter said, flopping back onto his own pillow.

Liv gave a weak smile. She couldn't fault Peter for thinking all of this was exciting. After all, he hadn't been in that warehouse. If he had actually seen the portal in front of him, seen Malquin's face, seen the wraths for himself . . . he'd probably think a little differently.

Liv lay down next to Daisy and tried again to shut her eyes. Somewhere else in the house, Cedric, Kat, and Emme were also trying to get a little sleep. She wondered if they were more successful.

Before Liv finally, finally fell asleep, a memory came to her. She, Peter, and Daisy were much smaller, riding in the backseat of their parents' car. It was dark out. The radio was on low, and heat blasted gently from the radiator, wrapping her in warmth. Her parents murmured in the front seat, and Peter's sleeping
form slumped against her shoulder. She didn't know how old she was or where they were going, but she remembered the feeling of it, of being surrounded by family. Being safe.

Liv woke up to the sound of the world coming apart.

She was pitched from her bed and landed with a violent crash on the floor. Her first coherent thought was
earthquake
, but she couldn't remember exactly where she was. Was she back in her bedroom at Rita's? Or still in the Echo Park house? Liv crawled toward where she believed the doorway to be, but instead smacked hard into a bedpost. Then something heavy with elbows landed directly on top of her. Daisy.

Everything snapped into focus.

“Daisy!” Liv screamed as the bedroom shook around her. A lamp crashed down to the floor, and the windows rattled. “We have to get to the doorway!”

Daisy scrambled up and to the doorway, with Liv close behind. She put her hands up over her neck to protect her head—a lifetime of earthquake response training kicking into gear.

The bedroom window shattered inward, and both girls screamed.

A terrible thought struck Liv, and she looked over to the opposite twin bed. “Peter!”

The bed was empty, the sheets trailing onto the floor.

“I have to go find him—” Liv started to move out of the doorframe, but Daisy grabbed her wrist.

“No, don't go!”

Liv wrapped her free hand around Daisy's and huddled close to her. In the hallway outside, a picture frame smashed to the floor. The ground shook for what felt like minutes before finally petering out.

By the time the world was still again, both girls were surrounded by wreckage—the broken pieces of a bookshelf, the shards of a lamp.

“We have to get to the others,” Liv said. She pulled Daisy up, and they slowly worked their way down the glass-strewn hallway. Liv needed to make sure everyone else was okay, but most of all, she needed for her gut feeling to not be true. . . .

They walked into the main living room, which was a giant mess of furniture and debris. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the paneless holes in the walls. Joe entered the room through the kitchen, looking shaken. Liv realized he must have arrived at the house while she was asleep.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Liv said. “Where are Shannon and Merek?”

“Still at the hospital.”

Kat raced down the stairwell. “The earth moved again,” she said, her voice shakier than Liv was used to hearing it.

“Another portal?” Joe said.

No
, Liv wanted to say, but couldn't find her breath.

“Where's Cedric? And Peter?” Joe asked. He picked his way across the living room toward Liv.

No, no, no.

Kat looked pale. “Cedric would never—”

“Cedric would never what?”

Everyone turned to see Cedric walk in through the front door. His eyes were wild, desperate. They scanned the damage, took in the figures in the room. “Where's Emme?”

“Liv, Cedric . . . look.” Joe pointed to the opposite wall of the room. Someone had taken a marker and written over the white wall in large letters. Liv held her breath as she silently read the words, and her worst suspicions were confirmed.

Dear Cedric,
it began,
I hope you understand why I had to do this. Peter came willingly, and I hope the rest will follow. I promise he will be all right. We all will, so long we do what Malquin says. Please forgive me, your Emme.

Beneath her message was a shorter one, scrawled out in messy letters:

Liv and Daisy, this was something I had to do. I hope to see you both soon.

Liv's knees buckled beneath her, and she took an involuntary step back to steady herself. Cedric walked slowly to the wall and ran his hand over Emme's words.

“How could she do that?” Cedric asked. His voice was low, as though he was talking to himself. “How could she just . . . leave?”

No one answered.

They all gathered closer to the words on the wall, and Liv focused on her brother's messy scrawl. She remembered the gleam in his eyes when he'd talked about being special . . . had Emme overheard him talking in the hospital waiting room? Did she know then he would be an easy target? His handwriting on the wall was heartbreakingly familiar. It was the same as it had been when Peter was small.

“I'm going after them,” Liv said. She was surprised by the force of her own voice.

Cedric spun around. “No.” He looked around the room, as if searching for support—first to Kat, then to Joe.

“That's exactly what Emme wants you to do, Liv,” Joe said. “That's why she convinced Peter to go with her—she knew you'd follow and she could hand you over to Malquin. But you can't.”

“Yes, I can. He's my brother. I just got him back, and I'm not losing him again.”

“We already agreed,” Cedric said, moving closer to Liv. “Malquin only needs two scrolls. If he has Peter, and he gets you . . . we cannot let that happen.”

“He's right,” Kat said. Cedric nodded.

“You can't stop me.” Liv moved closer to Cedric. She straightened and looked up into his eyes. They burned with intensity, but she didn't care—hers felt just as bright.

“I'm a scroll, remember? I can open a portal anytime I want. I'll go alone if I have to, to get Peter back. I will.”

“Liv,” Joe started, walking up toward her. She spun to face him.

“I will. You'll have to chain me up, Joe, I swear. And even then, I'll find a way.” Liv put every ounce of conviction she had behind her words. “He's my family, Joe. My
brother
.”

Joe flinched, and Liv knew she'd hit the right nerve. He'd let his own brother go, all those years ago, back when Malquin was just John. Liv knew the kind of person that Joe was, and knew how it must have eaten him up inside to not go after his brother. He'd had two once, and lost them both.

When Joe spoke, he was quiet. “If you open the portal alone, it will chew you up, just like it did to John.”

“Not if we do it right, if we all open it together and use . . . blood.” Liv looked to Cedric briefly, then barreled on. “I'll be the only one who crosses through, but if the three of us open it together, it should work right. I saw how Malquin did it.”

“But Peter didn't,” Joe said. His expression was all sympathy, which Liv could barely tolerate. “He must have opened a portal for him and Emme alone, without knowing the right things to do. There's no way to know if he . . . survived.”

The pit of fear in Liv's stomach spread. She shook her head. “No. He's alive, he has to be.” She couldn't accept that he wasn't. That she had found Peter again, after all these years, to have only a few hours with him . . . it wasn't possible that he was gone, forever. It wasn't.