Page 81 of Inception

“What Mark?”

“The Mark of the Anakim,” he said, flexing his hand. “It’s the white rune at the center of your palm. It sort of works like a fingerprint, except that it identifies your bloodline.”

I looked at my palm. There were several curved lines, none of which seemed out of the ordinary. “I don’t see anything.”

“Here, let me see.” He moved closer to me, grabbing the headrest for support as he took my hand into his free one. “Mmmm, soft skin,” he remarked as he examined my open palm.

“Thank you, because this isn’t awkward enough.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “That’s weird,” he said, turning to Trace. “She doesn’t have the Mark.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, pulling my hand back protectively and then re-examining it myself.

At this point, I was fairly certain about my lineage. Between what my uncle had told me and what I learned through Dominic’s taste test, I was pretty sure I was a Slayer. So where the heck was my Mark?

“I don’t know,” said Trace, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “It probably has something to do with the spell. I’m guessing it’ll appear once they remove the Cloak.”

“They haven’t done that yet?” asked Ben, surprised. “Is that why I’ve never seen you at Temple? Training and whatnot?”

“I train.” My tone was unnecessarily defensive. “I train in the evenings with Gabriel. I just started.”

“Why are you training at night?”

“She has to,” said Trace before I could answer. His eyes met mine in the mirror again, his gaze intense. “Because of her schedule with school and work.”

That was weird. Why did Trace just hide the fact that Ihadto train at night because Gabriel was a Revenant? Was that supposed to be a secret?

“That’s cool, makes sense,” said Ben, and then straightened. “So do the others know? Don’t tell me I’m the last one to know because I swear, I’m gonna be so—”

“Nobody knows, just Morgan.”

“You expect me to believe Morgan knows anddidn’ttell Nikki?” Ben laughed. “Man, you know nothing about girls.”

“Wait a freaking minute!” It was my turn to hug the headrest. “What do you mean Morgan knows? Is she Anakim too?”

“Yup. Both of ‘em are,” answered Ben. A devilish grin appearing on his lips. “Nikki’s a bitch, I mean witch—”

“Caster,” corrected Trace.

“And Morgan’s aSeer.”

“A Seer?” I balked. “A Seer of what?”

“Of the future, of Souls, stuff like that.”

“Like a psychic medium?”

“Basically. If you want to use human lingo,” he said, twisting his face in disapproval. “Seers are Descendants ofMessengerAngels so they’re all about their premonitions and connecting with theSpirit Realm. She’s good too. Scary good.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. For sure it was freaky, though at this point, everything I learned about the Anakim was freaky so that didn’t really leave me anywhere new.

A thought occurred to me. “What about Taylor? Is she Anakim too?” Words couldn’t describe how much I wanted this to be.

“Nope, she’s a mortal,” answered Ben. There was a vacant undertone in his voice, a subtle masking of what I could only imagine was his inner discontent. “Hannah is too, but Caleb and Carly are Casters like Nikki. They’re just not as powerful as her.”

Oh, good. So in other words, Nikki—who despises me with every fiber of her being—was not only a witch, but she also happened to be a powerful one. That was precisely the thing I wanted to hear.

My head was still spinning when we pulled into the parking lot of Starry Beach, the lakeside park that was playing host to the upcoming Spring Carnival. The overcast draped over the grounds like a bad omen, diluting all the would-be vibrant colors and replacing it with soulless shades of gray.

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