Carrier of the Mark

“Oh, yeah, she’s fine. Actually she’s been much better since you’ve been here. Before you came she was as bad as the other two. She would always have one of them by her side. They’re a bit overprotective, don’t you think?”

“I guess so. Maybe being orphaned at such a young age made them that way.”

“Maybe.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “Do you really think the DeRíses have magical power?”

“I don’t know what I think. But there is something really odd about them.”

She laughed. “Haven’t I been telling you that all along?”

Six

DINNER

decided to quit the sailing classes. I hated beinga quitter, but the truth was, I was not meant for water. I was better off accepting my fate now; otherwise fate would come looking for me … again. So on Friday, the gang went to the marina and I changed my clothes for dreaded PE. What a way to finish the week. Yuck. After a riveting class of running laps around the hockey field while Miss O’Toole flirted with the groundskeeper, I packed my stuff and headed home. I was red faced and sweaty by the time I got to my house, thanks to the laps and the uphill struggle with my ever-increasing-in-weight backpack. I opened the door and dumped the monstrosity inside.

I tried to shake off my bad mood. I knew I was only cranky because all my friends were currently under the tutelage of the gorgeous Mr. DeRís and I was not. I was just about to head upstairs to take a shower when a text came in on my phone.

Don’t forget. Dinner tonight 7 p.m. I’ll be home to pick you up at 6:30. Dad.

Oh, crap. I had forgotten all about it. Dad wanted to introduce me to the who’s who of Kinsale, most of whom I already knew through idle gossip and their kids who attended the school. He also seemed pretty eager for me to try out a fish restaurant in town, the Crab Cage or the Lobster Pot or something like that.

I got a glass of water and went to my room—my favorite place in the house. White walls, oak floors—and two dormer windows flooded the room with light by day, making it cheerful and homey. It also contained my prize possession, my bed, which I had brought with me from the U.S. It had been my mother’s bed before mine, and it made me feel close to her. Its white wrought-iron headboard was an intricate mesh of flowers and leaves that twisted and spiraled from one side to the other. I threw myself down on the pillows, kicked off my shoes, and tried in vain to piece together all the little bits of oddness that made up Adam DeRís. My eyes wandered to my bookshelves. I glanced at some photos and mementos of my life before Kinsale, a life that I rarely thought of. These things had meant a lot to me a few short months ago, but now their significance had faded.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but it just wasn’t happening. I may as well start getting ready for tonight. I’d just grabbed a towel when something behind me started tapping and scratching. I tiptoed to the window and pulled back the curtain. I wasn’t at all surprised to see my feathered friend sitting on my windowsill. This time I stared back at him. The crow angled his head and glared back at me with his winking eye. I stuck my tongue out at him and went in for a shower.

Feeling refreshed, I got dressed in my soft, comfy jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Then I slicked on a little black mascara and pink lip gloss and threw myself back onto my bed to do my math homework while I waited for Dad to get home.

At six forty-five I heard the key in the front door.

“Megan, are you ready?” Dad called into my room as he passed. “I’m just going to change my shirt and we’ll go, all right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m ready.” I grabbed my purse and went downstairs to wait for him.

He was down in double-time, smelling nice and his face flushed.

“Ohhh, you’re putting in an extra effort tonight, Dad,” I teased him.

“No more than usual,” he said, carefully inspecting his reflection in the hall mirror.

“Yeah, sure.” I gave him a sidelong look.

There was obviously something very appealing about this restaurant, and I had a feeling it wasn’t the crab cakes. As we pulled away from our house, I looked back. The crow was perched on the highest point of our roof, watching me leave. Was that bird really following me? No. That was insane; birds didn’t stalk people. I pushed the thought out of my head.

The restaurant was lovely, quaint, and totally jam-packed. The food was amazing. Too bad the people surrounding us were so dull. They were bigwigs in town: the superintendent from the Kinsale Gardaí (the Irish police), who, at seven feet tall, towered over us all; as well as the owners of the various town shops and businesses. Killian’s mom and dad were there (Caitlin would be seething that she missed this one). Then there was the owner of the restaurant, Petra Van Meulder. Judging by all my dad’s excessive laughing and beaming, she was the object of his extra efforts.

To be fair, she was lovely and really pretty. Petra told me she was from Holland and that she had come to Ireland to forget a bad divorce and never went home. I appreciated that she was making an extra effort to include me in their conversation, but I couldn’t help feeling like a third wheel. It was great to see Dad actually getting a life, and I wanted to leave them to it. We were just finishing up the meal and thinking of ordering dessert when I saw an opportunity to escape.

I nudged my dad. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”

“Meg, it’s late. I don’t think so.”

“Caleb, let her go for a walk. It’s very safe around here, and she’s well able to look after herself,” Petra said, giving me an understanding smile.

My dad caved. “Okay, but stay close and don’t be too long, okay?”

“I won’t. I’m just going to wander down to the marina.”

I stepped out into the night air and filled my lungs with a deep, fresh breath. I exhaled slowly, looking up at the stars, and then started walking along the waterline. The yachts swayed gently where they were moored, creating a musical tinkling sound. I punched in the code to the jetty at the marina and opened the gate. Finally I found a secluded spot and sat down between two big yachts. I let my feet dangle over the edge, toward the water. Funny, it didn’t look scary at night. In fact, it had an almost magical quality in the dark.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice the person gliding quietly up the gangway in my direction. The flat, calm water shimmered and pulsated, then rose slightly up, as if there was something just below the surface. I watched in amazement as the water took on a life of its own and followed the person as he walked along the wooden jetty and then moved out of sight behind a boat. I shrank back into the shadows of the yachts as he walked past.

“Adam,” I breathed quietly, enjoying the tingling sensation that ran through me.

He was wearing heavy sailing pants, boots, and a padded sleeveless jacket. He climbed nimbly into the yacht beside me and disappeared inside. My heart was pounding. Then I heard the flapping sound and a cawing. I looked up. That freaky crow was sitting on the railing of the yacht, his head cocked to the side, watching me.

“Go away,” I whispered, but he cawed down to me again and disappeared in between the boats. Just then two big boots hit the deck above my head and Adam peered down over the railing, squinting into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” He turned on a flashlight and shone it down in my direction.

I played with the idea of pulling myself farther into the shadows and hiding, but quickly realized that it was virtually impossible.

I leaned out into the beam of light and waved up at him. “Hey, Adam.”

He looked around worriedly. “How long have you been down there?”

“Don’t worry; I won’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“About the water. I saw it, but I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really, Megan, you shouldn’t be hanging around the marina at night. It’s dangerous. You should go home.”

“But … the water …it was glowing.” I stopped, doubting myself for a second.

“Megan, honestly, you’ve lost me. I’m guessing you’ve been listening to all the stupid stories about my family. Do yourself a favor—go home.” He sighed and started to turn away.

My temper flared. What made him so goddamn superior? “Hey,” I called up at him, “that’s not fair.” I stumbled in my haste to get up off the gangway and teetered on the edge. He jumped down and steadied me.

“You were saying?”

“Oh, nothing.” I was furious at myself for still aching to touch him.

“Wait,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

He laughed and turned off the flashlight. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness again. “I mean it,” he said softly, very close to my face.