1. Marked

Chapter 1

Marked

Vanessa

" T his is stupid," I complained for what felt like the millionth time in the space of an hour.

My roommate had come home with another hair-brained idea for us to go and see a psychic. "For fun," she said. "To see what the future holds," she said. "Plus, I was given a coupon," she said.

I swear, that girl would have bought a discounted donkey if she had a coupon for it. And as for the ‘fun' she said we would have; well, I was yet to experience any… especially after the cab ride and train hopping we had to do to get here.

"Remind me again, why are we in Yonkers?" I asked sardonically, and my friend laughed despite my lack of enthusiasm.

I mean, I wasn't exactly all fired up in knowing my future. My main priorities were paying all my bills and having enough money left over to eat. I swear, if I never saw another box of mac n cheese so long as I lived, I would die a happy woman. But Jesus, what I would have given for a steak dinner.

Thanks to my shithead ex-boyfriend, I was lucky if I got to eat meat these days. He was the reason for the pitiful state of my life. The asshole had fucked me over and got me into so much debt I felt like most days I was drowning.

Vanessa Cadell, age twenty-six, hopelessly fucked… yep, that was me. Which was why whenever Stacey usually asked me to go to these crazy places with her, my first answer was, "I can't," quickly followed by having no money. She rarely accepted my excuses though, but Christ, the girl had bailed me out more often than I changed my bedsheets.

However, this time when she called it her treat, she added a great deal of guilt with it in order to get her way. About how we never went out anymore, how I complained if she tried to help me, and all the rest of it. So, in the end, I caved… hence why I was now standing in a shady part of Yonkers after walking from the train station past a creepy cemetery.

"This doesn't look right," I said, focusing on our reflections in the dark window. It was like some ominous mirror showing your other worldly self, looking back at you from the other side of the void.

My best friend and roommate, was the total opposite to me. Our reflections were like Ying and Yang.

Her dark purple hair was up in two bunches and reminded me of Mickey Mouse ears. The comparison was something she always giggled at, and we loved to tease each other. Her large circular glasses that constantly slipped down her nose made her the cutest girl in existence…in my personal opinion. Her dark gothic make up and the lip ring with its tiny skull attached only added to her cuteness. However, sharing clothes was usually out of the question because, let's just say, her pleated miniskirts and fishnet tights weren't exactly my shopping bag. And this went both ways, because my plain dress sense most definitely wasn't Stacey's.

We made quite a pair. My wavy, shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair and blue-green eyes were usually void of any makeup. I was fortunate that my lashes were dark and long enough not to need mascara, and my skin was lightly freckled enough that it hid any imperfections. Good job really, because I couldn't afford the luxury of beauty products unless they fell under the ‘necessity' category.

Even if Stacey and I had the same style, it wouldn't have mattered because I was short with an ass bigger than I would have liked and a bra size that could be considered as more than a handful. As for Stacey, she was tall and slim enough that she got away with most styles. She often complained that she wished she had my curves, whereas I would wish for her height and athletic build. Although with the amount of ice-cream the girl ate, I had no clue how her stomach remained as flat as it was. All I needed to do was look at the stuff and I would put on five pounds.

I guess I was at least grateful that I seemed to wear my curves well. Most of my unwanted weight went straight to my hips or my breasts, and my stomach thankfully only had a mini pooch. I mean, I still criticized my little tire overhang whenever I got out of the shower or when I was stuffing it into a pair of jeans, but it could be worse.

My outfit of choice today, the dreaded denim in all its shades of blue and whatever T-shirt was clean enough at the time. A zip-up hooded sweater and pair of worn sneakers completed the daily look.

Stacey still hadn't responded to my comment about how our location looked wrong, so I asked,

"Are you sure we are at the right place?"

I eyed up the peeling, aged white paint that surrounded the large window. One that a decade ago might have actually been glossy. A large crack in the shop window mirrored the one at the door next to it. The temporary fix of duct tape stuck across it made me wonder just how long its owner considered this as being sufficient because it looked as old as the building itself.

A single piece of wood that looked as if it had been torn off something bigger had black painted letters saying open and hung from a rusty chain. Another crudely hand painted sign above the door said,

"Yeah, I mean, it has the same name on the coupon and everything," Stacey said, glancing down at the crinkled piece of paper in her hand. It looked like she had torn the paper from a pin board at the Fulton Market Building we both worked at.

"Well, it doesn't look that inviting," I pointed out, wondering if this was what was supposed to entice people inside and if so, how bad was the inside?

"Oooh, perhaps it's a secret place," Stacey said, tapping her fingertips together like she usually did when she was excited. It made her look like a cute villain cooking up her next evil scheme. She reminded me of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons … well, if he was a twenty-five-year-old gothic girl with pointed black nails with spiderwebs on them, that was. As for me, I made a face that clearly showed my thoughts on the place.

"Oh, come on, Nessa, don't you want to know who you're destined to be with? If you're going to get married and have kids? All that jazz," Stacey asked.

I held back my eye roll because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Stacey was one of the most optimistic, happy-go-lucky people I had ever met and thank God I had, because she had literally saved me.

We first started working together in a little bookstore called ‘Written in the Stars' that was in the trendy Fulton Market Building. A unique place that had a ‘hangout' kinda vibe, with its little coffee bar in the corner and comfy armchairs and couches dotted around the place. Every inch of the walls was covered in shelves and literature, it really was a place I adored working. Of course, it helped that it was also owned by Stacey's wacky and wonderfully weird uncle, so naturally, the two of us usually got away with murder.

Through all our differences, the one thing Stacey and I most definitely had in common was our love of books.

Two years ago, I had walked into the store with a crumbled and admittedly pitiful resume, and tears of frustration in my eyes after spending too many weeks trying to get a job. Stacey had taken one look at me and then called back over her shoulder to her uncle,

"Just filled the position, Uncle Sammy!" Then she held out her slim hand and told me, "Welcome aboard."

After that, we became inseparable. To the point that as soon as I found out only weeks later that I was about to become homeless, she turned up at my door. She arrived with boxes and tape in hand before telling me I was moving in with her. And thank God for that, because the rent was cheap enough that it meant I had a chance at paying off the lifetime's worth of debt that dickhead (he whom shall not be named) had gotten me into.

Of course, I had tried to go to the authorities about all the money he stole from me, as well as the fraud in using my name and my personal details to get credit cards. But seeing as everything had been in my name, it was a classic game of, he said she said . "There was no proof," they said. "Take it to court," they said. In fact, they had said a lot of things that day, and none of them were useful in repairing the shambles of my life.

I owed everything to Stacey for saving my ass, something she continued to do by letting me stay in the apartment she had inherited from her father. This meant that I simply added to the utility bills, paid barely anything in rent, and that was it. And thank Christ for it too, or there would have been no way of paying off all the shit that dickhead ex had got me in.

Dickhead was the sole reason that I had sworn off all men, and also why I had no interest in whatever this hack with a crystal ball had to say. But as for Stacey, well, I knew she was very much into all that. Something I had suspected she had been in to ever since she lost her dad in a motorbike accident. She was trying desperately to reach him on the other side.

My heart broke for her.

Which meant that if she wanted to drag me to someone who offered hope, then the least I could do was go with her without bitching… too much. Although, I am missing out on some much-loved time with BOB, the most satisfying relationship I've ever had… with my battery-operated boyfriend.

Of course, Stacey didn't agree. She often told me what a waste that getting my sexual pleasure from only a toy was, a crying shame, she called it. She told me how beautiful I was, how any guy would be lucky to have me, and so on and so on. But after all the mental abuse I suffered during my last physical relationship, then I really didn't know what she saw when she looked at me. No, I just knew it was no longer what I saw, that was for damn sure.

It was difficult to see myself as desirable after being constantly questioned, like, "Why are you eating that?" or "Do you really need a dessert?". There were also questions like "Do you have to wear your hair that way?" or my personal favorite, "Don't wear your makeup like that, you look like a slut.". All of that type of bullshit grinds you down, until one day you just don't recognize the person you have become. You ask yourself who is the girl staring at you in the mirror and where did her bravery go? Where did she leave her confidence?

When did her light go out?

That had been two years ago but honestly, I was still healing from it. It was an emotional baggage I wasn't ready to share with anyone other than my best friend, and I wasn't sure I ever would be.

I knew what Stacey was doing in this place by asking me if I wanted to know about my future, husband, kids, etc.

She was trying to give me hope too.

A hope of a happy future that I had long ago snuffed out like a candle I had needed to see my way through the darkness. Instead, I had just sat down and given up, accepting my fate. Which was why I told her, in what even I consider was a sad, bitter tone,

"I don't think that's on the cards for me."

Stacey gasped in horror before grabbing me and giving me a little shake. Something that wasn't difficult considering she was five inches taller than my short five-foot-two and a half… (and yes, the half was important).

"Now you listen to me, Vanessa Cadell, you are deserving of happiness, you are worthy of love, and you are destined for greatness… I just know it!" God love her, but Stacey was like my biggest spokeswoman and personal cheerleader all in one.

She had gotten me through so much shit, that I hated knowing that she felt like she still needed to continue to do so. It was like my obscure life had some dark aura surrounding it, and all who touched it were forever tainted.

The guilt gnawed at me to the point where I hugged her to me and whispered, "I love you, my friend."

She hugged me back, just like she had done countless time during this last two years when helping me trying to find myself… the girl I used to be. The sassy firecracker I used to be, who would have taken no shit from anyone. The girl who would have said, "hey, this is me, if you don't like it, then that's cool, see you never." That was the girl I was trying to get back to. Not this shy, withdrawn, shell of my former self. I wanted to be brave again. I wanted to be bold. I wanted to feel powerful. But above all, I wanted to know what it was like to truly…

Feel loved.

I shook these depressing thoughts to the back of my mind where they deserved to stay and looked back up at what could have just been a random house on the side of the road. In fact, the only thing that made it seem like a legitimate place of business was due to where it was. A square two-story building situated next to an auto parts store, a flooring company, and a massive storage unit building that took up a large part of the street directly across the road.

"Do you think we knock?" Stacey asked, looking up at the windows on the first floor that were covered in cobwebs and surrounded by rotting wooden frames.

"I mean, the sign says open, so maybe we just walk in?" I suggested because, well, that seemed pretty logical. Stacey shrugged her shoulders and made the first move, pulling down on the handle and no doubt expecting it to be locked like I was.

It wasn't.

"Erm… Hello?" Stacey called out timidly, stepping further inside and taking in her surroundings just like I was.

There was a creepy vibe for sure, and the unsettling feeling fell over us both like a dark shroud. The place looked like an abandoned hardware store. A counter ran along one side, and the rest of the space held empty shelves housing nothing but dust, old cobwebs, and empty boxes. Old signs advertising paint supplies and offers on tools to buy barely clung to the walls. I looked to Stacey and said,

"I don't think we should…" The idea for us to leave ended the moment a figure emerged from what I gathered was a back room.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone," a redheaded woman in her fifties said as she approached, huffing and puffing like she had been in the middle of something labor intensive.

Stacey looked down at the coupon in her hand and then handed it to the woman as she said, "Well, I saw this place advertised and… Oh." Stacey's words were cut short as the woman turned over the piece of paper and there was a phone number under the single word, ‘Bookings'.

Then her eyes roamed over to me, standing slightly behind Stacey, and the woman was clearly assessing me for something. Her dark eyes narrowed for half a second before widening, making me wonder what it was she saw in me that had her so interested. But then after a smirk, her wrist jangled with the many bangles she wore as she tossed the coupon to the floor, telling us,

"No matter, you lovely ladies are here now… shall we?" She held her hand out to the side, telling us the way.

Stacey looked back at me first, no doubt to check that I was still cool with it. And even though my creep-o-meter was blaring at me, I still found myself nodding, telling her this was her party. Just because I didn't want to drink the punch, didn't mean I would call a cab and call it a bust. So, we both walked toward the back of the store, and before I could ask the obvious, the woman said,

"Sorry for the mess, I only just got the lease to the place so I haven't had time to renovate. My temporary space is back here, just through the curtain," she said, following us as we made our way through the shelves, and what had no doubt at one time been a labyrinth of hand tools, keys, locks, hinges, chains, plumbing supplies, paint, and most building materials. The smell of all these things still clung to the walls. But the moment we stepped through the heavy curtain, one we had to push aside, we quickly exchanged the scent of varnish, metal, dust, and wood for one of burning incense.

I found myself almost saying, "well this was more like it," because the room was definitely set up in a way that would be expected for her particular profession. The walls were covered in drapes of tasseled red velvet, delicate lace, and strings of red fairy lights. There were candles burning in their various holders that were overflowing with wax, and dark shelves filled with glass jars and bunches of dried herbs.

As for the center of the room, there was very little in the way of furniture, other than where the readings obviously took place. However, there was a little wooden stool in the corner with a colorful glass lantern hanging above.

It was the floor my eyes were drawn to, though, because a large circle was drawn in what looked like chalk. One that had a five-point star in the center. Then around the edge were symbols that looked like runes etched into the wood, with each surrounded with different colored stones.

"Alright, let's begin, shall we?" the woman said, without introducing herself, but nodding to the small round table in the center of the circle and the two seats that were positioned opposite each other. Each one was draped in even more lace and cushioned in frayed material. I shifted out the way, but when Stacey didn't make a move to sit down, I looked at her face.

"Well?" the impatient fortune teller said behind us, because she had already taken her seat, clearly waiting to begin. But the second I saw Stacey shaking her head looking nervous, I released a deep sigh. Especially when she mouthed a soundless,

"Please."

So, I turned back toward the fortune teller and took my seat, no doubt with the skepticism written all over my face… something the woman seemed amused by.

"You don't believe, do you." It wasn't a question, but more of a statement, one I merely shrugged at.

"Then you have nothing to fear by giving me your hand then, do you?" she said, the crow's feet wrinkles by her eyes deepening with her obvious confidence in her abilities. It was like she was secretly saying, "I will show you, non-believer."

Instead of saying, "No, I just I think you're someone who perceptively tells people what they long to hear and get paid for it," I told her,

"I just have no wish to know my future."

"And what if others wish to?" she asked, surprising me.

However, before I could ask what she meant, she took me off guard by suddenly grabbing my hand and pulling it across the table, making me gasp. The sensation of cold dread worked its way up my arm as if she had just injected me with pure evil. Something dark, and foreboding. Like some forbidden otherworldly essence. One she should not be sharing but still dared to.

It felt like being touched by death.

However, it wasn't me that ended up screaming.

No…

It was her.