Marked (The Birthright Book 2)

By Amy Saunders

Rosamund Brandt knows she’s an heir, but an heir to what? So far, the only thing she seems to have inherited are powers she can’t control and flashes of what seem like memories–memories that belong to someone else.

Tensions grow as secrets within her family multiply and a new creature who can dissolve into shadow stalks her. But out of the chaos also emerge new friends–one who may know more about what Rosamund’s inherited than she does.

As the memories become clearer, Rosamund pieces together what she needs to do to get control of her life again. And she needs to before her powers consume her–and everyone else.

Also In This Series:
Inborn (Book 1)
Descent (Book 3)
Bequest (A Short Story)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Saunders
• Release date: Jan 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311467713

Amy Saunders

Amy Saunders is a sci-fi/mystery addict with a soft spot for humor and romance. She lives in Massachusetts, and loves to bake and watch movies. Learn more about Amy and her books at http://amysaundersauthor.com.

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Marked

(The Birthright Book 2)

Amy Saunders

Marked

Copyright © 2016

http://amysaundersauthor.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Also by Amy Saunders

The Birthright

Inborn (Book 1)

Bequest (A Short Story)

The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries

Cliffhanger (Book One)

Auf’d (Book Two)

Drive-Bye (Book Three)

Overkill (Book Four)

Unexpected (A Short Story)

Personal Shopper (A Short Story)

Standalone Titles

Biohazard (A Novella)

The Jester’s Apprentice

Dead Locked

Chapter 1

At first they came in flashes. A symbol on an art canvas in school; a strange woman’s face in the mirror; a blue-green light like a surge of pure energy. But that was just the beginning. They grew until they became full-scale scenes where it was like I was pulled back in time and standing right where it took place. A town on fire and people running for their lives; a clandestine meeting in an orchard; watching a scary looking guy from behind a pillar.

I couldn’t make sense of any of it. The memories seemed so random and out of order. What was the point of it all? I only knew I couldn’t dismiss them. Somewhere in that mess was the answer to my questions about the symbol branded on my left forearm from the inside out–and me. I hoped I could understand it sooner rather than later.

Especially since I had no control over when the memories happened or how intense they were. And they had the tendency to attack at the worst times.

Like in the middle of class in my new school.

It was the end of the week, end of the school day, and the end of history. A truly ironic class to have the most vivid memory I’d had yet.

Instead of facing Mr. Cavalho in front of a whiteboard, I was standing on the roof ledge of a tall building at night with fires shooting to the sky around me, facing an army out on the field below. I braced against two squat pillars, straightening my shoulders in confidence. I breathed deeply, the fires around me blazing more intensely. Then I jumped. I jumped and floated to the ground, landing lightly on my feet on a path leading up to the entrance of a palace. Two fires burned on either side of me, and as I walked, more shot up along the walkway. I could feel I was in a gown that hugged my body and draped behind me, the train scraping against the stone.

I stopped a few feet from the front line of the army, my feet sinking into the ground. It was dark except for some lights the army carried, and the fires behind me. A breeze blew my hair off my neck, bringing sweet relief for an instant. My body burned, but not because of the outside air.

You can’t hide behind your minions forever! I said, but not to the soldiers in front of me. It felt like I was talking to someone I knew was there but couldn’t see. They’ll all be gone soon. And then you’ll have to face me. Alone.

I breathed deeply, but steady. I knew what I was doing and where this was going. A showdown. I was worried–but I didn’t think it was for the reasons I’d assume. I sensed I was worried about…failing. Not dying, or whatever could happen to me, but failing. It was clear I had a purpose for being there, but I was concerned I couldn’t follow through.

No one from the army responded to me. And then–Ms. Brandt? MS. BRANDT?

I blinked and fluorescent lights blinded me. The memories were so real that the real world sometimes felt like the memory. I glanced around in confusion and found Mr. Cavalho staring down at me. Not that he had far to go because I was taller than he was.

Yes? I said. Everyone in class giggled. Mr. Cavalho just watched me with his mouth twisted to the side and eyebrows scrunched together. I wasn’t sure what that meant he was thinking.

I blushed and pushed a black strand of hair behind my ear, struggling not to sink lower into my seat. The bell rang and books crashed together and everyone filed out pretty much in unison, Mr. Cavalho shouting final instructions about homework. I was one of the last ones to go, and he pulled me aside before I could escape.

I’m sorry about that, I said quickly, pulling my sleeves down below my wrists. I’d been paranoid about anyone seeing the brand mark on my left inner forearm. Even Mom and Xavier. I just–

It’s fine. Mr. Cavalho perched on his desk, his dark, curly hair bunched around his forehead. That’s not why I want to talk to you. Well, it is. But frankly, I’m very concerned about you, and I’m not the only one.

I cradled my books in front of me, worrying about where this speech was headed.

I understand your family’s been through a lot recently, he said, and with the upheaval, I’m not surprised your grades have suffered. But it’s much more than that. I wanted to let you know we’re going to set up a meeting with your mom. I think it’s time we all discussed the situation.

The situation. Mr. Cavalho handed me a graded paper with a big, red D on it. I swallowed. I don’t think I’d ever gotten a D on anything. Not even math.

He shook his head. Don’t worry about it. We’ll work something out to help you get back on your feet. He motioned toward the door with his head. Now get out of here. Enjoy the weekend. He gave me a big, reassuring smile, and I tried to match it. But honestly, smiling had been a challenge recently.

I folded the paper and wove through the hallway to my locker, breezing through the combination, and jammed the graded paper to the bottom of my messenger bag. I ignored the students talking around me, the sideways glances some of them gave me and the whispers exchanged, and finished emptying my locker and slung the bag across my body, slamming the door. I knew some of my classmates talked about my incidents, but I wasn’t too concerned with their opinions.

There was no one to wait for or catch up with, so I just headed out. I glanced at a couple girls I thought I recognized as I walked by, and they quickly averted their eyes. They could giggle in class all they liked, but I could sense most of them were somewhat afraid of me. And maybe they should’ve been.

My new school was a multistory building closer to the center of our new home, Glastonbury, on the north shore of Massachusetts. Mom had an old friend there who helped us get set up, but I think she was afraid to uproot us too much all at once, which is why we didn’t just move to another country–or planet. Despite the fact that my father had tried to kill both my mom and me, we weren’t really in hiding from him. I got the feeling Mom knew that would be in vain.

I charged out the main doors of the brick structure, which had the feel of a capitol building more than a school, and darted down the curved concrete steps to the road, where I could see Mom parked. For the time being, we’d given up the extra car, so Mom was taking both Xavier and me to and from school. When the weather improved, we’d be able to walk, but in late January on the coast of New England? Not my favorite idea.

After a couple months recovering in a safe house even my dad didn’t know about in the mountains in New Hampshire, we moved to Glastonbury, starting in our new school with the new semester. I kept feeling like I should miss my old private school with its sprawling campus and outdoor classes, as well as my best friend Joss and even my classmates Tanner and Mimi, but I didn’t. I was actually relieved on some level I could just disappear here. No one knew me, and that was just fine. I didn’t have to pretend to be happy or interested in dealing with anyone. I could go about my business without having to explain away my behavior or worry about hurting anyone’s feelings.

I got in the front seat, maneuvering my legs over my bag on the floor. Mom smiled, her dark eyes brighter than they had been most of the time, but I could tell she was tired. She put up a good front, but I’d heard her cry late at night after we’d all gone to bed. I didn’t think she was sleeping well. At least, if she was sleeping anything like me.

We’ve survived another week, she said, her silvery-blonde curls pulled into a loose bun. How’d your day go?

I shrugged, the D on my paper still stinging. They want to meet with you.

Her smile faded, but she wasn’t surprised. I know. I have an appointment Monday with your principal.

I chewed my lip. I’m sorry. I’ll–

It’ll be okay. Mom placed her warm hand on mine. I’m not worried about your grades right now. We’ll handle the school.

The back door opened and my older brother’s bag flew into the car first, then he crashed in the seat. Xavier had kept his grades intact, though any plans beyond graduation were out the window. We couldn’t really plan for anything at that point. But his real issues were exposed by the fact that he’d stopped tinkering and inventing and improving. If he’d touched anything like that for months, I hadn’t seen it. And we weren’t really talking. Not about anything important, anyway.

Mom smiled again, craning her neck to see him. And you? How was your day?

Perfect. I could see him gazing out the window. If it weren’t for the acidic undertone in his voice, I might have believed him. He seemed much better off than me.

Mom’s smile lessened, and I could suddenly tell what an effort it must have been for her to put it on in the first place. Well, I appreciate that you’re both sticking with it, anyway. I know it’s hard.

Neither of us responded as she merged into traffic. We were both going through our routines, but that was about it.

That was also about the extent of most of our conversations for the last several weeks. We avoided the real topics. For instance, how people were brutally killed by our own father, who was thousands of years old, from another planet, and in disguise and using his energy-taking power that he’d hid from everyone to try and gain immortality. Or, that in his attempt to become immortal, he’d tried to kill our mother, who thanks to her healing ability had healed herself. Or that our dad had also tried to kill me, but I’d used my newfound energy-taking power to strip him of that ability, though he could still make portals like me.

And that was only the beginning of what we could discuss.

Instead, we carefully tiptoed around all that and focused on nothing important, though it was obvious we were all distracted and not really interested in small talk. Part of me wanted to break through the barriers and change that, but a stronger part wanted to keep it that way. I was too afraid to tell them what I was going through. Too afraid to tell them about the flashes of memories I’d had in the fall, or the brand mark that seared me from the inside out before we moved, or the immersive memories I’d had recently. I was afraid to talk about what I did to my father or what it really meant. It was easy to just say I’d inherited his powers, but I knew better. Deep down, I knew I’d inherited something else entirely.

We got back to our place, which was a converted warehouse on a wharf with the name John’s Seafood emblazoned across the street side wall. I’ll be honest with you–I hated it. After coming from a real house with walls that actually kept the wind outside, I was not thrilled with the new digs. It was totally open inside, except for the bathroom. Bedrooms had been concocted in an upstairs loft with flimsy partition walls separating Xavier’s room from mine. Mom’s room was downstairs under the loft with only a screen as a separation. Everything echoed, and you couldn’t scratch your nose without everybody knowing about it. But it had the space for Mom to have an art studio, and I think it was easy to ditch if we needed to run for it. I got the feeling Mom and Xavier weren’t any more attached than me.

I dropped my bag on my bedroom floor, checking my cell phone the way I had every day, and usually several times a day, since Bryce left us back in the fall. He and his Earth Patrol colleague, Hayden, had left to take Kenji’s body back to her family. I hadn’t heard from him at all, and I was worried. My dad had escaped through a portal and was still lurking out there somewhere. But there was still no word from Bryce. I flopped on my stomach, closing my eyes. Maybe he just changed his mind.

Mom tapped on my door, glancing at my phone on the nightstand as she stepped in. He may be caught up in another case, she said, sitting next to me. I’m sure he’ll turn up again soon.

I peeked at my phone from under my eyelashes. I hoped she was right. I rested my head on my arms, turning so I could see her. Something up?

No… She picked up a piece of my straight, shoulder-length hair, letting it slide through her fingers. I just wanted to check on you. I worry every day when I leave you guys at school.

Her eyes were fixated on my hair in a blank, glassy way. She looked lost in thought like that a lot, and I wondered what she was thinking, but I always chickened out of asking. It might be better if I didn’t know. I wanted to say something comforting, like we’re okay, but that was a lie and she would know it.

Mom caught me staring and smiled, patting my head. I’ll let you rest, she said. We can talk about what we want for dinner later.

Then she left as quietly as she came in. I always had a million questions after moments like that, watching her drift off, possibly thinking about something that happened thousands of years ago. She still hadn’t told us much about her past, and her book, with some of the history of her people, didn’t tell me much about her personal history. Or my father’s.

Regardless, that memory I had in class triggered something inside me, because that was the first night I heard the water dripping–the first night of a whole new era.

Chapter 2

Monday–the day of Mom’s meeting with my teacher–came around very quickly, and the end of the school day even faster. We’d gone for Mexican and done a little sightseeing over the weekend, but that was it. Mom tried to keep us somewhat busy–for her own sanity as much as ours, I think. But, truthfully, nothing could distract us from our issues.

I met her by the principal’s office. She was in a knee-length heather gray cardigan that swung out behind her when she walked. She smiled, giving me a quick squeeze before the principal and Mr. Cavalho came out of the principal’s office. It’ll be okay, dove, Mom whispered.

She shook hands with the principal, and Mr. Cavalho visibly blanched as he was introduced. But Mom looked barely any older than she had when she married my father. It was either that or her figure-flattering shirt and jeans that tongue-tied him. Mom pretended like she didn’t notice, her diamond earrings glinting in the lights.

Ah… Mr. Cavalho said, looking around my mom, leaning up on his toes to see. Mr. Brandt. I’m glad you could join us.

I sensed my father’s energy–one I was all too familiar with–before I saw him, and I felt like I died for a full minute. Mom’s jaw locked, and she immediately put an arm around me as we turned around to face him.

He looked the same. Not any more evil than he did the last time we met. When he tried to kill me. My dad smiled, the same way I remembered and used to find comforting. Now it felt fake. Nothing about him was too different. He wore the same black wool coat with the collar standing up, his dark hair coiffed to the side, just a touch of gray at his temples. I used to like that I inherited his hair color. Now it just made me sick that I looked like him at all.

I wouldn’t miss this, my dad said, wrapping me in a hug, even kissing the top of my head. It was all I could do not to wrench away and bolt out of that school. I had to settle for tensing up and choking down the fear that coursed through me at the same pace as his energy. My daughter’s well-being comes first.

I pushed away as soon as possible, desperate to keep my composure. I kept repeating that appearances were important for us as I inhaled his aftershave, which nauseated me. It was the only smell I remembered from when I learned he was a murderer–when I lost my balance and fell into his chest at the bug party weeks ago. The moment my entire universe exploded.

But we had to keep up appearances. Everyone just believed Mom and Dad separated.

Well, we’re very glad to hear that, the principal said. If you’ll just follow me, we can get started. She smiled at me. Take a seat out here, Rosamund. We won’t be long.

Mom squeezed my hand, like trying to communicate I’d done well and we’d get through this. I thought I’d see some anxiety in her eyes or face, but she was like stone. If anything, she looked angry.

As soon as the door shut behind them, I fell into a chair, my head spinning. I leaned against the wall for support, wishing I could hear what they said. And wondering if they’d be okay in there with him.

It was in that quieter moment that I heard it again–the water dripping. I’d heard it Friday