Mark of Betrayal

He stared at me for a second then looked away with a sigh, shaking his head.



“Mike?” I grabbed his forearm and tugged until he looked at me.



“This is about nothing, except the safety and freedom of our people, Amara. If you fall for Arthur through some twisted, artificial love the blood lust causes you to feel, you could be putting this whole operation in jeopardy.”



Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Okay, Mike. I already told you—I don’t want his blood. It tasted old and dry.” I pretended to wipe it away from my mouth as though that was true, when all I really wanted was to feel it against my tongue again.



“You’re so stubborn, Ara.” Mike pushed past me. “You could just say you won’t drink it because you think I’m right.”



“It’s not true, though.” A wide smile forced itself onto my lips. I hid it before I walked beside him again.



“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway. I stand by what I said. If I catch you alone with him—” he pointed at me, “—you are in big trouble. Clear?”



“As a bell.” I nodded. But I think we both knew I wouldn’t listen. I’d stay away from Arthur’s blood, but he was quickly becoming the only friend I could truly confide in. There was no way I’d give that up to ease Mike’s baseless fears.



The ring tone had a kind of homely sound to it, and I hoped with all my heart that David would pick up, but when Emily’s sweet voice came down the line, I wasn’t really that surprised.



“Hi, Em.”



“Ara! Hi. How’s things at the manor?”



“Great. Hey, um, is David around?”



“Uumm.” I could almost hear her clearing her throat. “No.”



“Liar. Put him on.” I laughed.



“I—I can’t, Ara.”



“Why?”



She went quiet, aside from voices muffled by what I assumed was a palm over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Fine,” she said, not to me. “Um, Ara?”



“Still here.”



“He’s…he went to the store about twenty minutes ago. Sorry. I forgot. But I’ll have him call you back when he get’s in.”



“Emily.” My voice broke.



“Seriously. He’s not here, okay.”



“Come on, Em. I’m not stupid.”



She sighed heavily. “Look, thing is…he kind of doesn’t want to talk right now.”



“Why?”



“He’s…well, I actually don’t really know.”



“Is he mad at me?”



There was a pause. “No.”



“Does he hate me?”



She laughed. “Of course not.”



“Then…I don’t really understand. Why won’t he talk to me?”



“It’s complicated.”



“Em? I really miss him. I just want to say hello.”



“Okay, well, I’ll talk to him, okay—maybe he’ll call you tonight.”



“Okay.” I frowned to myself. “Um, can you at least tell him I love him and…and that I’m sorry for the argument we had the other day.”



“Sure. I’ll tell him.”



“Okay. Um. Thanks.”



“Bye, Ara.”



“Bye.” I hung up the phone and ditched it onto my bed, throwing myself down on top of it.



Chapter Four



The soulful tunes I set out to play had been left behind somewhere in my room. I sat in the pale light coming in through the giant window by the piano and played what was in my heart—which, when translated into notes, sounded like a doleful memorial.



“Oh—” a high-pitched voice said from the side of the room, “—don’t you know any pleasant melodies, Your Majesty.”



“I do,” I said, calming slightly as I looked up at the woman. “I'm just too angry right now to play something sunny.”



“Hm.” She nodded, reaching high to dust the top of the mirror beside the piano. “Troubles of the heart?”



Hesitantly, I nodded, taking in her aged face and short, white-grey curls; she had a kind of ‘nanny’ look about her. “I don't like arguing with people. It makes me feel uneasy, and then when I can’t resolve it, I feel like I’ve been tied up.” I dropped my hands from the keys. “I just can’t think straight when I'm upset.”



She sat down beside me, her plump form taking up most of the piano stool. “Know what I do when I can't clear my head?”



I shrugged.



“I take a stroll out to the lighthouse, climb the stairs and watch the waves talking to the shore.” She smiled at something distant. “Ever since they first erected that lighthouse in fourteen-oh-two, it’s been my go-to place.”



“You’ve been here that long?”



She nodded. “I was human back then, but, yes, I’ve been here some years now.”



“Years? That’s more than years.”



She nodded again, thoughtful. “Time passes differently here. Feels like only yesterday young Lilith was running these halls.”



I sighed, imagining Lilith as a child, but with everything else occupying my head, her face faded quickly, leaving only my troubles. “How do I get to the lighthouse? No one will show me the way.” I closed the cover on the piano.



“Go out here and through the garden to the left.” She pointed to the big doors. “There’s a dirt road leading through the forest. Follow that to a clearing and go down the hill. You’ll see the lighthouse from quite far off. You can’t miss it.”



“Thank you,” I said and stood up. “And, um, I didn't get your name.”



“Kitty, lovely. Kitty Jomane-lonique.”



I extended my hand and she shook it softly. “Nice to meet you, Kitty.”



“Pleasure is all mine, Princess.” She bowed her head and took to another room, leaving me alone again in the shadows of a newly-forming day.



The dirt road appeared quite quickly once I started walking, and the fresh air made all my problems seem further away—not so much like a blanket around my shoulders. The trunks of the forest trees parted for the dirt path, their wispy leaves closing the canopy in above, allowing passage for enough light to filter kaleidoscope patterns across the ground.



Aside from the graceful breeze and the summer song of birds, I could also hear my tactless, human guards following me. If I were human, I’d never notice them there—they were really quite clever—but I could smell them and hear their hearts pumping as they tried to keep up with me. Poor things. Mike shouldn't have them following me until they can handle it.



“Would you like some company, my lady?”



I turned to Arthur, approaching from behind. “Hello.”



“Can I walk with you?”



“I—” I was about to say no, but he looked so young and carefree in his jeans and white button-down shirt, with the sun making his messed hair gleam, that I didn't have the heart to tell him I was in a bitter mood and just needed everyone to leave me the hell alone. “Yeah, okay. I'm not really sure I’ll be very good company, though, Arthur.”



“Is something on your mind?”



I laughed. “There always is.”



“Would you like to talk about it?”



I pressed my lips together and rolled them to one side. “No. I mean, I would, but I think distracting myself might be better.”



“Very well, then,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I shall do my best to blindly steer your mind around these undefined troubles.”



I laughed again, bumping shoulders with him gently. “Thanks, Arthur.”



“Anytime.”



We held a smile between us for a second past uncomfortable, until I looked away. He was so much like David—the ancestral connection very clear between the two—which made walking out here, in a forest, hard—made me very glad David was actually alive, or I might’ve fallen to the floor in a sobbing mess. “You look so human today, Arthur.”



“I do?” he said, half frowning, half smiling.



“Yeah. I mean…I guess I just never pictured you in jeans.”



He looked down at his pants, shrugging. “Well, I can be quite human at times. I trust, by the end of my stay, you will have a more unguarded opinion of me.”



“Unguarded?” I asked, noticing the path narrowing at my feet, closing in with long, green grass. “Oh, you think I don't trust you.”



“You’re just guarded.” He smiled, looking away quickly. “Like you're afraid you might say something you shouldn’t.”



Hm. Clever. “You have been around for a while, haven’t you?”



“Well,” Arthur began, looking up as Petey came running down the trail toward us, “you pick up a little about human nature when you live for a few—for as long as I have.”



“Hey, Petey.” I squatted down and scratched the top of his head, then peered up at Arthur. “How long have you lived?”



“Lived?” He bounced a little as he started walking again. “I lived for only thirty years.”



“You know what I mean.” I followed him, patting my leg for Petey to come, too. “And technically, you’re still living. Since vampires aren’t dead.”



“Hm.”



“Do…do you ever get tired—of living?”



He made a tight line of his lips, a smile in his eyes, and nodded.



“So, are you alone now? Like, were David and Jason the last of your bloodline?”



“Yes.”



“I'm sorry, Arthur.”



He reached across Petey, who walked between us, and took my hand. “Well, at least I still have you.”



“Yes. You do.” I gently squeezed his fingers. “We immortals have to stick together, right?”



“Right. And I must say, I look forward to your friendship over the years to come.”



I almost thought about that for a second—eternity—but my dad’s face popped into my mind, and the idea of seeing him die one day, knowing I’ll never see him again, felt too heavy, so I pushed it all aside and dropped Arthur’s hand, walking a little faster.



“Everything all right, my lady?”



“Yeah.”



“Then, why the sudden dash for distance?”



“I don't like to think about it—eternity. It’s just a bit…well…”



“Empty.” He nodded and we both slowed, coming to the edge of the forest, the trees opening out to a wide field of wind-swept grass; its hues of pale green on a backdrop of blue ran as far as the eye could see. “I shouldn't say this, as I do not wish to cause you grief, but I understand the pain of living without those we love. I know you think of David when you imagine eternity, and—”



“Please.” I closed my eyes, angling my head away from him. “Please don't talk about him.”



“Of course, my lady.”



I started ahead, my footfalls sinking heavily on the uneven ground, while my fingers ran lazily through the blades of grass, making sweeping motions, like I did in the dreams where I walked a field much the same as this, with Jason.



“Do you see that—where the ground disappears up there?” Arthur pointed ahead, past the lone, wide tree.



“Yeah.”



“That’s the cliffs and—”



“The lighthouse.” I looked all the way up at it in the distance; white, tall, just like I imagined it would be, but also really far away—enough that I could cover it with my thumb from where I stood. “This place is beautiful,” I said.



“Yes. I have always loved it here,” Arthur noted, then pointed to a steep incline of trees to our left that bordered the manor—leaving the other side of this grassy plane open. “Have you been told of the myth about that forest.”



“Um, yeah—something about if you go in there at dawn, you’ll be trapped for eternity.”



“Correct.” He smiled, walking with his hands behind his back.



“This place has so many of those stories. I've heard several since I came here,” I noted, watching Petey run ahead, chasing a murder of crows.



“Well, live in any one place for long enough, and myths will form. Nevertheless, be mindful to choose carefully which ones you believe, Princess. All legends derive from some fact.”



“I’ll be fine,” I said, hiding a smile, but stopped walking suddenly when the tree came into full view. “That’s my tree!”



“Your tree?” Arthur stood beside me, looking at my face, then the tree sitting centre field, its branches reaching out like welcoming arms.



“Yes. My tree.” I almost folded over and started crying, feeling so close to a part of my past—a part with a boy I was made to love—that, in that breath, I couldn’t stand the fact of his death. “Jason showed me this place—in my dreams. But he said I chose it, except, I’ve never been here before.”



“Perhaps he lied.” Arthur walked ahead.



“Why?” I bolted forward, Lilithian-style, stopping only once the cool shade of the tree covered my skin from the sun, closing me in, showing me home once more. I touched its trunk, feeling him there—feeling Jason within its spirit—and let the urge to cry trickle away with each panting breath. “Why would he lie?”



“I'm not sure.” Arthur appeared beside me. “Perhaps he didn't wish to explain why this place was special to him.”



I slid down the bark of the tree, feeling each ridge, then each blade of grass under my knees, touching my skin. It felt just like the dream—like reality, and when I looked up at the man beside me, I half expected to see Jason. “This is the field Jason and David played in as boys?”

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