Fractured Souls(43)

“Yes, but who is left to get ahold of it?” Demetrius laughs as he swishes his cloak behind him. “The ice killed everyone off who was still left around.”
“There are a few Keepers around who might try.” Stephan says. “Do you remember when Octavian made this after the vision was first seen?”
Demetrius laughs again, throwing back his head. “He was so convinced that if he created it, I’d never be able to pull off what he’d seen. Too bad for him, he didn’t see you coming. Jesus, Foreseers think they can see everything and make some sort of difference.”
“Well, that was the doing of my parents.” Stephan touches the scar on his left cheek as they stop just short of where Nicholas and I stand. “They though if they cut off the mark, it would change things—change who I was–but they couldn’t change the blood that runs through my veins, could they? Although, it did help keep my hidden from Octavian. Once the mark was gone, my part in it couldn’t be seen.”
The scar on his cheek is a mark that was cut off by his parents? I cringe at the idea, and then cringe again at the idea of what kind of mark would make a parent cut their child’s face just to get rid of it.
“That mark is a gift,” Demetrius tells Stephan as he turns to face him and reaches out to touch the blade of the sword in Stephan’s hand. He pricks his finger on the end of the blade and smiles as he spills his blood on the snow below his feet. “My parents seemed to understand this—understand who I am and what I was meant to do.”
“Yes, but your parents weren’t Keepers,” Stephan replies venomously as he wrenches the sword away from Demetrius’s reach. “Mine were. In their eyes, to have a child who bears the mark was a disgrace, which is why they so stupidly tried to cut it off.” His jaw sets tight as he stabs the sword into the ground and the ice cracks below the blade.
They continue to walk again, heading past us, and I turn to follow them with my eyes.
“It’s a gift,” Demetrius says. “We’ve been chosen since birth by the mark—since before birth—to free him and everyone else who was bound by his sentencing.” He raises his hand in the air and his expression glazes over as he shuts his eyes.
“And now we have,” Stephan says thoughtfully as he lightly traces his finger down his scar.
“Yes, and now we have,” Demetrius agrees, opening his eyes and lowering his hand to his side.
“Gemma,” Nicholas says and I gasp, almost forgetting he is there.
I fling my hand over my mouth and hold my breath. Suddenly, Stephan stops, his head tilting to the side and he glances over his shoulder.
He holds up his hand, signaling for Demetrius to stop. “Just a second.”
Demetrius pauses, his gaze sweeping the buildings. “What’s wrong?”
“Please, get us out of here,” I hiss at Nicholas as Stephan starts walking back toward us.
Nicholas wavers. “I don’t know... I kind of like being alone with you.”
“Nicholas,” I hiss again, grabbing onto his arm. “Get us out of here. Now.”
Stephan’s getting closer and I don’t understand what’s going on. He’s not supposed to be able to see or hear me, but I swear he can sense that I’m here.”
“What are you doing?” Demetrius calls out, but Stephan doesn’t reply as he continues moving toward us, grasping the sword as his eyes scan from side to side as if he’s searching for something—for us.
I dig my fingers into Nicholas’s arm and jerk him closer to me. “There’s someone in this vision that I’m pretty sure can either see or sense that we’re here and, if he can, then it’s very, very bad.”
His eyes widen as he takes my hand, abruptly looking anxious. “Okay, let’s go.”
I cast one last glance at Stephan as he picks up his pace, charging at us and I know something‘s very wrong. It doesn’t look like he can see us because he’s looking in the wrong direction, but he can obviously sense us.
“Nicholas…” I say, tripping backwards as Stephan reaches out for me. I open my mouth to scream, but then Stephan abruptly stops.
He’s only inches away from me and his eyes fasten right on mine as a slow smile curls up his lips. He touches the scar on his cheek with the tip of the knife, cutting a thin layer of skin off, and drawing blood. “You have it, too,” he whispers, then his eyes divert to my upper arm.
My skin ignites as I’m hauled backward, fading from the vision, but it’s enough time to see it. The red and black triangular mark on my arm.
 

Chapter 13