Page 3 of Shadow Mark

That was two days ago. Forces she didn’t understand yoinked her through a portal—yoink being the technical term—and put her on an alien planet with a massive red planet hanging in the sky. She suspected this was a moon. At least it had a breathable atmosphere.

Things could be worse. Brad could have been yoinked through the portal with her.

The deluge eased up and the heat returned.

With a groan, Lenore pushed off the tree and carried on trudging through the mud. Shelter was her top priority. A cave sounded good. She’d settle for a rocky outcrop. She could drag some branches over it and make a lean-to, in theory.

She had zero practical wilderness skills. Being a scout never appealed to her as a kid, and the last thing adult Lenore wanted to do was go camping. Now, she wished she had watched some nature documentaries. Anything. In her limited free time, she liked to read thrillers. Occasionally, the characters had to dig their way out of an avalanche or trek through the forest in a desperate bid to outrace the killer but to be honest, she skimmed those passages.

The trees began to thin. Shadows grew long and the forest grew dark as the sun sank lower. The terrain grew rockier as she headed uphill. Maybe there’d be a clearing and she could get an idea of the landscape. So far, her experience had been trees, trees, and snakes.

She stepped out of the trees. Silhouetted against the setting sun, she spied a building.

Civilization.

Walls and a roof meant people. Purple people or green people with tentacles, she didn’t care as long as they had plumbing and she got out of the rain.

Lenore stumbled up the steep incline. The building remained dark. The front of the building had a covered porch with wooden steps. The closer she got, the more it became apparent that no one was home. No one had been home for a long time. Windows were broken and the door hung open. The metal roof was a deep, rusted red.

Totally not sinister. Now, this was exactly the type of situation her thriller novels had prepared her for. A desolate, isolated cabin. An exhausted, desperate traveler at dusk. Either she had accidentally stumbled across a serial killer’s murder shack, or a kindly old granny was going to stuff her with a hot meal and wisdom. She picked up a fallen stick as she approached, holding it over her shoulder like a club.

“Hello?” she called out, just in case someone was lurking. “Anyone home? I’m lost.”

Please be a granny and not a serial killer.

The steps and porch look solid enough. Lenore tested the bottom step with one foot before she put her full weight on it. The wood groaned, but it held.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

She pushed open the door. The air inside had a dusty, abandoned smell. Leaves and dirt were scattered across the floor. There was just enough light to make out chairs pushed against a wall. A lantern hung on a peg on the wall near the door. Lenore grabbed it and discovered what appeared to be a solar panel. She used the corner of her filthy shirt to clean away the dust.

The lantern emitted a weak light, but it was enough. She could sleep here tonight and figure out what to do in the morning.

Sleep proved elusive that night. She jumped at every noise, from leaves rustling in the wind to the sound of something substantial landing on the metal roof in the night. Lenore clutched her stick, ready to defend herself if need be.

Things improved the next morning. The cabin had definitely been abandoned. Judging by the dust and inch-thick layer of leaves and debris on the floor, the last occupants left some time ago. Fortunately, the cabin was in decent enough shape, and the prior inhabitants had left their stuff.

Lenore wasn’t going to die of exposure. Hooray! She had basic gear, like an ax and a knife.

Could she use them? Not really, but she’d figure it out.

CHAPTER TWO

BARIS

One Year and Nine Months Ago

Everyone here hated him.

Baris scanned the gathering of mourners. The majority ignored him, their expressions carefully blank but their heads tilted just so to watch him. A few wore outright loathing on their faces. None seemed overly concerned about the female they interred, which spoke volumes about the quality of the Starshade family.

Joie did not deserve this. It would have been better for both of them if Baris had called off the marriage when her family’s treachery came to light. No one would have blamed him. Several of his councilors had advised him to sever his ties with the Starshade family as surely as they had severed his thumb from his hand.

Baris had not listened. He wanted peace and knew the cost of peace was high. He willingly paid, even when it physically harmed his person. Now, standing before the grave of the female who had been his queen, he realized he had been naive to think that he alone would pay the cost.

Joie had paid with her life.

The priest finished reciting the ritual words, sliced his thumb, and smeared a symbol onto Joie’s urn. The crowd made no noise of surprise. Baris kept his expression neutral despite being appalled internally. His family was traditional, but they were not that traditional. They used paint to mark the deceased, like civilized people. Standards really were different on the outer planets.

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