Mark of the Seer (20 page)

A cold wind suddenly blew from behind and a chill flew straight through my heart. Without looking back I knew someone was behind me—I could feel eyes staring at my back.

“What are ya doin' here, princess?”

Standing to my feet, turning around, I faced who was standing behind me.

“Nick,” I said.

Only he looked a little different. His skin was pale, he was dressed in black clothes, and his eyes were pitch-black. He smiled not a friendly smile but a malicious, hate-filled smile. In his right hand he held some sort of weapon—I could not tell because of the dark.

“Answer my question, princess.”

Instead of answering I asked, “What are you doin', Nick?”

He answered my question with an evil bark of a laugh. I'd never heard a laugh sound so evil and diabolical. Not since I'd met Lukus and the other angels of darkness.

When he was done laughing, he looked at me, tilting his head to the side.

“I'm only doin' my job,” he told me, his voice sounding detached from his body. Then taking whatever weapon he held in his hand, he lifted it up and swung it directly at my head.

Chapter Fifteen

I sat straight up in bed, my breathing coming out in hefty pants. The palms of my hands were burning and my pajamas were doused with perspiration. Frantically, I touched my head with my hands just to verify that it was still attached to my body. Finding out I had not lost my head, I let out an anxious laugh.

“It was just a dream,” I stated out loud, falling back onto my pillows.

Sunlight bled through my curtains, drenching my already yellow room with its golden radiance. A beautiful start to a Saturday that would be filled with trying on one expensive dress after another, followed by some cheesy movie and stale popcorn. I really didn't know how I was going to get through the day—all the plans were too normal for a girl like me, and anyway, how could I concentrate on anything other than my hands burning like they had been sandwiched in a ultra-heated flat iron?!

“You have to warn Daria.”

I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of Sam's voice. My heart felt like it was jumping up and down in between my chest and throat.

“Sam, you've got to stop showin' up and scaring the crud outta me!” I remarked after I was able to calm my out of control pumping heart.

His face lingered in serious mode. “You've got to warn Daria.”

“Why?” I questioned. “It was just a dumb dream!”

“You should always take your dreams seriously, whatever they may be. A Seer’s dream can sometimes be a life or death scenario for a human.” He narrowed his eyes. “Daria may be in danger—she needs your help, whether she realizes it or not.”

I crossed my arms at my chest, my bottom lip jutting out stubbornly. I knew that being a Seer meant that I had to do a service for all of mankind, but
Daria
? Could she even be considered part of the human race? If she was, where was her conscience? Somewhere up her narrow behind?

“Fine,” I told him through gritted teeth. “Even though I'd rather stick hot pokers in my eyes than go to Daria's house and talk.” I frowned, shuddering. The thought of having a friendly conversation with the school’s biggest snob was extremely nauseating.

“I know she's a bit of a pain—”

“That's a huge understatement,” I interposed, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.

“But,” he continued, “as a Seer you must learn to work with all sorts of people, even the ones who are mean spirited.”

I sighed melodramatically. “She's not just mean—she's atrocious.”
And also a slutty, hateful witch
.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, a look of disapproval concealing his usually cheerful face.

“What?” I asked him, annoyed.

“Your thoughts are not very...
pleasant
.”

“Sorry, sorry. How 'bout I just call her an egotistical fudge-nut who reminds me of a female dog?”

For the first time ever, he rolled his eyes at me. It struck me as comical because it was such a human trait.

“Clarity,” he began, his tone trying overly hard to stay in the patience department, “just go and help her.” Then, as usual, he vanished in the middle of yet another of our myopic chats.

“Really?” I stated, raising my hands in the air. “You're just gonna disappear and let me handle this by myself?”

I paused, waiting to see if he would come back and talk some more about the Daria problem. Of course I waited for nothing.

“Fine!” I called aloud, throwing my blankets on the floor.

“I'll go visit the fudge-nut female dog by myself.”

* * * *

Daria lived on the “rich” side of town, away from all the trailers and worn-down shacks on my side of town. Not that my house was junky or anything, but compared to her mansion, my house could easily be described as
old
.

My parents had bought the farm house on one hundred acres and renovated the entire home from the roof to the dirt basement. They also had built the wrap around porch I loved so much.

Daria's house, I mean
mansion
, was built two years ago, when the elite members of Garlandton decided it was time to add a country club to our quaint town. It had all the accommodations any rich kid could ask for: swimming pools, a golf course, state-of-the-art gymnasium with two indoor pools and weight room. Five tennis courts were placed behind a five star restaurant that served anything from hot dogs to lobsters.

Pulling through the open gates of the posh community, I found Daria's BMW parked in her driveway, the three-story Phipps manor sitting in front of it. I parked my rust-covered Honda at the end of the drive. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I sat there pondering on what to say. I could not tell her I'd had a dream about her looking beat-up and saying that Nick was going to kill her—at least that's what I had gotten out of it, until Nick decided to take my head off by some heavy object. Yeah, I'm sure she'd believe every word of that, especially since we're so close.
Not
.

Taking a deep breath, I got out of my car and willed myself to walk up her driveway. When I got to heavy mahogany door I knocked twice. My nerves were a bundle of jitters, and I almost turned away to leave but Daria opened the door before I could wuss out.

“Oh hell,” she scoffed, crossing her arms at her chest and leaning against the door jam. “What do ya want, loser?”

Forcing myself to ignore her rude greeting I smiled and said, “Hey Daria.”

My eyes searched her face for any signs of trauma. I found nothing but dark circles under her eyes. I also noticed she was wearing a fuzzy pink scarf, which hit me as strange because it was a sunny warm day.

“Need more Clearasil?” she asked sardonically, once again poking fun at my unique name.

Swallowing a very ugly, very nasty comeback I told her, “I just need to talk to ya a minute. You know, a friendly conversation between two people which does not include being vile to each other.”

“Friendly?” she remarked, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

I bit my lip, trying very hard to keep my patience and anger under control.

“It's important,” I declared. “May I please come in?”
Uh, why
was I being so dang polite?

She narrowed her eyes with a look of suspicion fogging her face. It seemed like an eternity passed before she responded.

“I guess—but whatever it is ya got to get off your chest, make it quick. I really don't want the neighbors questioning why your piece of crap car is parked by my driveway.” She turned on her heels and began walking away. I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me.

Daria's house could be described in two words: Massively gaudy. When you first walk in you face a grand staircase, and your eyes see walls covered with classical paintings, most likely expensive originals. Hardwood floors and Persian rugs were mapped out throughout the house. Breakables were placed everywhere, from priceless Mint Eggs to five foot tall vases and statues.

Following her through a majestic dining room and into her huge gourmet kitchen I couldn't stop myself from wondering what her parents did for a living to afford such luxury. The floors in the kitchen were marble and the counter tops were granite—it was intense and marvelous at the same time.

“Nice place,” I commented, trying to keep the mood light.

“What, this old house?” She opened the refrigerator door and retrieved two bottled waters, throwing one in my direction. I caught it before it plummeted to the floor.

Smiling I said, “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” she replied coolly, shrugging her shoulders. “Now just what was it ya wanted?”

I looked at her not knowing where or how to start the conversation. When she opened her door and found me standing there she apparently turned her witch switch on. Already I wanted to smack her across the face and rip her perfectly smooth blonde hair from the roots.

Patience, Clarity. It's all about patience.

“I just wanted to ask...” I trailed off as my eyes caught sight of dark bruises on her upper arms.

“Ask me what?” she snapped, noticing my floored expression.

“What happened to your arms?” I asked bluntly.

Patently surprised she answered, “Nothing.” I could tell she was lying by the slight waver in her voice. “Now get on with it—you need to get your beat-up piece of crap out of my neighborhood.”

The urge to beat the snot out of her began to burn in my blood, but instead of acting it out I took a deep breath and exhaled, composing myself.

“Fine. I wanted to know if everything was OK between you and Nick.” I watched for her reaction—it did not take long to get a response.

“What?” she questioned, entirely puzzled. “You mean to tell me you drove all the way from your neck of the woods to mine in your crappy piece of crap car just to ask if me and Nick were doing OK?”

“Uhhh...” What could I say to that? She had hit the nail on the head with that one.

“Answer me, Clearasil.”

I nervously played with the cap from my bottle of water. “Daria, I know this may sound weird but—”

“Did Kora put you up to this?”

“What? No!”

“Because if she did, you can tell her to keep her slutty little skanky hands off him because he's mine!”

“No, you're not listenin' to me! This has nothing to do wi—”

“Then what?” she cut in again, her hand reaching up to the scarf around her neck. I stared at her questionably.

“Why are you wearin' that scarf?” I asked inquisitively, walking over to her. “It's not cold in here.”

Without another word or thought, I quickly grabbed the scarf from her neck.

“No! Don't touch that!” It was too late, though. I yanked the scarf from her neck and let out a startled gasp.

The scarf fell onto the marble floor soundlessly, revealing exactly what I had feared. Bruises were all over her neck, looking suspiciously like a pair of hands had been wrapped around it.

She's bruised, just like in the dream
! Maybe there was something to this Seer’s dream thing.

Silence occupied the space between us, and then everything went still. A citrus smell arose in the air, like Daria's kitchen had turned into an orange grove. The temperature in the room grew and my hands began to tingle with a familiar warmth. I looked down at them and saw they were glowing green, and I knew at any moment I would have an encounter with a celestial being. What happened next was a new one even for me.

Glancing back at Daria I saw that her angry expression was still residing on her face, unmoving

and...frozen? I could move but Daria could not, and the only sound I could hear was the beating of my thumping heart in my chest. It seemed to me as if the world was taking a time-out.

Everything was paused but me, Daria looking as if she was stuck in an intermission.

A little girl, maybe around seven or eight, became visible by Daria's side. She was wearing a long white gown and had long blonde hair with bangs. Of course like the two other angels I had met, she was very resplendent. She looked at me through sad eyes.

An angel—Daria's angel.

“Yes, Nick has been hurting her,” the little angel told me in a high-pitched voice.

I looked down at the small heavenly host. Her intense blue eyes stared back at me, her expression gentle and tranquil.

“He tries to control her,” she continued, her voice musically light. “He tries to make her be something she isn't, and when she doesn't comply, he gets angry.”

“But why?” I asked, finding out the inside of my mouth was extremely dry. I took a sip of my water and said, “Why is he doing this to her?”

When she answered it wasn't exactly the response I was looking for. My blood ran cold with dread when she spoke.

“He wants her to be like Kora.”