The Mark

LUNA

The fever doesn't break.

It follows me through the entire night and into the next day, burning somewhere beneath my skin instead of on it. It doesn't feel like I'm sick so much as whatever is happening is already inside me.

In the worst of the fever, I think about my mother.

I wonder if this is what happened to her.

If she had a fever like this before the accident. If she'd felt something changing inside her before she died.

I was six when she died. I don't remember much about that time. Mostly pieces. A funeral I barely understood. Nana Mae holding my hand. Adults speaking in low voices whenever they thought I wasn't listening.

And one story.

My mother died in a car accident.

Except now I can't stop wondering if that story was ever true.

Nana Mae keeps me home from school without even asking whether I want to go. She presses cool washcloths against my forehead, but they turn warm within minutes.

She barely talks.

That scares me more than the fever.

Nana Mae always has something to say.

By evening, the worst of it has passed.

I'm still exhausted, though. Hollowed out. My whole body aches as if I've spent the day running instead of lying in bed.

I manage to make it downstairs on my own, wrapped in an old quilt.

Nana Mae is in the kitchen.

She's setting the table for three.

"Jace is coming for dinner," she says without looking up. "Figured you'd want to see him. You've been asking for him half the day in your sleep."

I stop.

"I have?"

"Mm-hmm."

She sets down the last plate.

Then she looks at me.

That same fear I've seen in her eyes since I told her about the man is still there.

But now there's something else too.

Resolve.

"Sit down, baby," she says. "There's something I need to tell you before he gets here."

I sit.

My legs feel unsteady, though I know it has nothing to do with track practice. The quilt slips off one shoulder as I settle into the chair.

Nana Mae pulls out the chair beside me.

Not across the table.

Beside me.

Then she takes both my hands.

Her hands.

The same hands that held mine when she told me my mother died in a car accident. The hands that smoothed my hair back at a funeral I barely remember. The hands that have never once wavered when she told me that story.

Until now.

They're shaking.

More than they were on the porch.

"Your mama..."

Her voice catches before she gets any further.

She swallows.

"Willow, your mama didn't die in any car accident."

I stare at her.

"What?"

"That was never true."

Her eyes fill.

"I'm so sorry I let you believe it for this long. I thought I was protecting you."

"Nana, what are you talking about?"

"There's a whole world you don't know anything about."

Her fingers tighten around mine.

"A world your mama came from. Your daddy too."

My stomach twists.

"What world?"

"It's been coming for you since the day you were born." Her voice trembles. "And I've been so scared, because I always knew it would come. I just never knew how to stop it."

"What does that mean?"

She opens her mouth.

The pain hits.

There is no warning.

One second I'm sitting beside her.

The next, something tears through my head.

I cry out.

The kitchen tilts sideways.

Pain shoots from behind my eyes and spreads through my skull so fast that I can't even think.

"Nana—"

My voice doesn't sound like mine.

Her hands tighten around mine.

Then the pain drops lower.

Across my forehead.

Heat explodes through my skin.

I scream.

I don't remember falling out of the chair.

One second I'm sitting up.

The next, I'm on the kitchen floor, my back arching off the tile as every nerve in my body lights up at once.

Nana Mae is saying my name.

Over and over.

"Luna. Luna, baby. Look at me."

I can't.

I can't see anything clearly.

My whole body is shaking.

The pain in my forehead is worse than everything else.

It's burning in a pattern.

Three separate points of fire.

They press into my skin, carving themselves across my forehead until the pain feels almost alive.

I reach for my face.

Nana Mae catches my wrists.

I don't know where she gets the strength, but she holds me down.

"Don't touch it."

"Nana—"

"Don't touch it, baby."

Her voice breaks.

"Let it happen. Let it happen."

"What's happening to me?"

The words come out raw.

"Nana, what's happening to me?"

"It's happening."

Tears are running down her face now.

She pulls my head into her lap, careful of my forehead even though I'm still burning beneath her hands.

"Oh, baby."

Her voice cracks.

"It's happening."

I don't know how long it lasts.

Time stops making sense.

My body keeps convulsing against the kitchen floor. My skin is too hot. My bones ache so badly I can barely breathe.

And underneath all of it, there's the strangest sensation.

As if my body is changing.

Trying to become something I don't understand.

The fire on my forehead spreads.

Then settles.

It stops feeling like pain.

It feels permanent.

Like it belongs there.

That's when the front door slams open.

"Luna? Mae, I'm here. I brought—"

Jace's voice cuts off.

Footsteps pound across the living room.

Something hits the floor.

Probably whatever he brought for dinner.

I hear him run.

Then he's beside me.

He drops to his knees on the kitchen tile.

I catch one blurred glimpse of his face.

He's white with shock.

His eyes are wide.

They're fixed on my forehead.

He doesn't move.

For one awful second, I think he's going to run.

I brace for it without even meaning to.

Some deep part of me is already preparing for him to leave.

But he doesn't.

Jace reaches for my hand.

The one Nana Mae isn't holding.

His fingers lace through mine.

He grips tight.

"I'm right here."

His voice shakes.

But he doesn't move.

"I'm right here, Luna. I'm not going anywhere."

I want to answer him.

I want to tell him that I'm scared.

That I don't understand.

That it hurts.

But another cry tears out of me instead.

The fire on my forehead flares one final time.

Sharp.

Blinding.

Then it's over.

Just like that.

The pain drains out of me.

My body goes limp.

I'm shaking so badly I can barely keep my eyes open.

Nana Mae's lap is beneath my head.

Jace's hand is still locked around mine.

"There."

Nana Mae smooths my hair away from my face.

Her fingers tremble.

I watch her eyes move to my forehead.

They fill with tears again.

But this time, there's something else mixed in with the grief.

Awe.

Or maybe fear.

"There it is."

"What?"

My voice is barely there.

I try to lift my head.

"What is it?"

I touch my forehead.

"What's on my face?"

Neither of them answers.

Then I hear the front door.

The same door Jace left open when he ran to me.

It creaks against the frame.

Slowly.

A man steps into the doorway.

Tall.

Still.

Even from across the room, his presence seems to take up all the space.

I know him.

The man from across the street.

Dark hair streaked with silver.

Eyes that catch the kitchen light.

Gold.

Impossible gold.

My heart stops.

The man looks directly at me.

"I'm here for her."

His voice is calm.

Too calm.

Every part of me goes quiet.

And afraid.

Jace is on his feet before I can even process what he's doing.

He moves between me and the stranger.

His entire body blocks my view of the man.

"You're not taking her anywhere."

The stranger tilts his head.

Something shifts in his golden eyes.

Surprise.

I don't know why.

He looks at Jace for a long moment before speaking.

"You can see the mark."

It's not a question.

Jace doesn't answer.

The man's gaze flicks over him.

"You're human."

He takes one step forward.

"You shouldn't be able to see it yet. Let alone stand this close to what she's becoming and still be on your feet."

Jace's shoulders tighten.

The man watches him.

"That costs you something, boy."

Another step.

"Every second you stay between us costs you something."

Jace's hands curl into fists.

"Your kind isn't built to withstand this close to the change."

I see it then.

The tremor in Jace's fingers.

The sweat along his hairline.

The way he's breathing harder than he should be.

He's hurting.

Maybe he's scared.

But he doesn't move.

The stranger's eyes narrow slightly.

"Ask yourself why your hands are shaking."

Jace glances down.

For half a second, I see the truth on his face.

Then he looks back up.

"I don't care what it costs."

His voice shakes.

The words don't.

"I'm not leaving her."

The stranger studies him.

Something unreadable passes across his face.

Not anger.

Not contempt.

Something else.

Almost surprise.

He looks at Jace as if he expected him to run and is still deciding what to make of the fact that he didn't.

Then his attention returns to me.

"You can't stop what's happening to her."

My stomach twists.

His gaze drops to my forehead.

The mark is no longer burning.

But I can feel it.

Cold now.

Heavy.

Real.

The stranger takes another step.

"You can say goodbye."

I stare at him.

And for the first time since the fever started, I understand one thing with absolute certainty.

Whatever is happening to me...

It's only beginning.