Stephan drags me toward the stack of metal boxes, whistling under his breath. I attempt to flip over onto my stomach as I claw at the dirt, but it does no good and the ground ends up tearing a few of my fingernails off. The pain is blinding and for a moment all I see are spots.
Finally, Stephan stops and lets me go. I swiftly roll over and push to my feet to run away, but he slams his foot down onto my back and I fall flat on my face, dirt entering my nose and mouth and I gasp for air.
“You’re better off this way,” he says as I turn over to my back, coughing to catch my breath. He gives me a kick to the side and I hear a bone crack as the tip of his boot collides with my ribs. He kicks me again and again until my whole body aches and starts to swell and turn black and blue.
I lie in the dirt, tired and heavily sore, gasping to breath and stay alive. He smiles, pleased at my beaten state, as he reaches into his pocket. Then he crouches down to the side of me, holding up a silvery sharp object with distinct engravings on the sides of it that almost take the shapes of letters but not quite. It looks the like a chunk of metal, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.
“You can never love him, you know.” He sets the rigid piece of metal down on my stomach, the engravings along the flat sides smoldering neon green. “Every time you two are close to each other, it ignites the power. Once you actually fall in love—in actual, real, genuine, pure, true love—you’ll kill the power and yourselves.”
I gasp, shaking my head. “You’re lying,” I choke, wiping blood from my nose.
“Am I?” He raises the piece of metal in front of my face. “Why do you think I’ve been so dead set on keeping you two unemotional and apart from each other? If you fall in love my star is ruined. It’s been told in a vision.”
“Then I guess you lose,” I hack, clutching my side.
“I never lose,” he growls, pricking his finger with the metal and drawing blood, which drips down on me, disgustingly warm and sticky against my skin. “The vision said that it could happen, but that I stop it somehow.” He grabs my arm and I struggle to get away as he aims the tip of the metal at my upper arm and then pricks it. “I always win.” He drips his blood on my open wound and I gag. “I thought detaching your soul would do it, but apparently not. This way’s better anyway. You’ll enjoy being evil, Gemma.”
“It won’t work.” I bring my knee up to kick him, but he stomps down on my swollen shin and then strikes me across the head with his arm. I can barely see or feel past the unbearable pain. I just want to die. Fall in love and die. Would it be a good way to go?
“It will work,” he assures me and then stabs the piece of scorching metal into the incision on my arm, inserting it straight into a vein. I let out a earsplitting scream as the energy of it violently streams through my blood and singes my skin. “And you want to know why?” He slopes over me, his eyes darkening, showing the evil inside him. “Because you already have evil blood in you, thanks to your father. It’s the only way I can put the mark on you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but a foul, sinister feeling slithers through my veins and my blood suddenly feels thick like tar. The feeling continues to build, a vile sensation burning feverishly underneath my flesh. It sears into my bones, turns my heart into a pile of ash, and leaves my soul empty.
Empty. My heart keeps beating, my lungs seeking air, but everything else is dead.
When I open my eyes again, Stephan has risen to his feet. I turn my head to the side to see the red and black triangular symbol permanently branded on my skin. It’s surprising how easy it is to accept, like it’s always belonged there. The more accepting I become to it, the less pain I feel, and I finally just give in and let it own me.
Stephan searches my eyes for life, but there’s nothing in me except a shadow of myself, a rotting corpse, the soulless girl I’ve become accustom to. “How do you feel?” He asks, tugging his sleeves down.
I search my brain for a response. “Dead.”
He grins. “Good.” He buttons the bottom of his sleeves back up and steps back from me. “I’m going to need you to stay here for a while, just until I can figure out one more thing; then I’ll come back for you.”
“Okay,” I say simply, staring into the sky at the ravens swooping above me. “But where am I?”
“The Wasteland,” he says. “Which ironically enough is a place for broken, discarded, magical objects.”
I nod, obeying. “Okay.”
“And don’t go anywhere,” he remarks with a clever smirk. “I know that you can with that power of yours, however I need you to stay here.”