Page 8 of The Immortal’s Mark

John Abernathy is as normal as normal can be. There’s no way he was set up to handle his daughter sprouting supernatural powers. From where I stand, my mother’s actions were negligent.

And I demand answers.

“I understand your anticipation,” Alex says, “but the story is not mine to share.”

“Fine.” I huff, taking the refusal in stride. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters anyway. I have Henry. He’s plenty of help.”

I pretend not to notice Alex’s skeptical glance.

I have bigger things to worry about than a potential reunion with my mom. For example: figuring out what happened to Bella and saving her.

An ache throbs in my chest.

It’s been two weeks since Adir escaped the dungeon.

Fourteen days since I had a vision of him attacking Bella on her balcony.

Nearly half a month since there’s been any news on the missing Immortal.

And we still don’t know where she is.

I’m desperate to learn something—anything about what happened to Bella. We all are.

But my desperation is what motivates me to throw myself into training with Henry.

Alex had wanted me to wait until he found Jennifer to train with my magic, but I refused to delay.

I want to help the Immortals. I need to help.

But to do that, I need to practice and master my abilities.

“I can see the gears working in there.” Alex reaches over to lightly tap my forehead. “What are you thinking?”

I clear my expression.

“Nothing,” I answer as we arrive on the third floor. “Just looking forward to my next sparring match with Henry.”

“Hmm.” He looks me up and down. “Good. I am glad to see you are planning ahead.”

“But,” he adds, his eyes gleaming as he stops me from veering off toward my room, “perhaps we should get you a helmet first.”

I swat his shoulder, but he taps into vampire speed and races down the hallway, leaving behind a trail of laughter that lessens some of the ache in my heart.

Until I think of Des.

2

DARCIE

The Immortal family sits in silence around a long dining table. The cherry wood gleams under the chandelier’s glow, freshly polished, no doubt.

If I didn’t already know Immortals don’t need to eat, I might think they were waiting for dinner. But there isn’t a single plate or fork on the glossy surface. Just stillness.

And that’s how I know this isn’t reality. At least, not my reality.

A soft, weighted awareness settles over me, familiar now, like slipping into someone else’s dream as I acknowledge this is the start of a vision.

I take a cautious step forward, the sound swallowed by the thick air hovering around me.