Home > Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(106)

Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(106)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“New one. Not even released in cinemas yet.”

I sat up a little when he tilted the screen to show me. “Oh, my God. You film pirate.”

He smiled. “Actually, this was given to me by the producer himself. We’re good friends.”

“Okay then.” I sat back. “Does he know you’re a vampire?”

“No.”

“How do you know him?”

“Met at a convention.” He shrugged, closing the case on his iPad after pressing play; the movie stared on the LCD at the foot of his bed, and a tickle of excitement charged my skin. I’d actually been waiting for this movie to come out for two years.

“This is really cool, Arthur.”

“What is?”

I hooked my arm around his and rested my head on his bony shoulder. “This—the movie, the big screen—even that thing you play the movie through.”

“Apple TV?”

“Yeah. That’s really cool.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Do you think I can get a TV in my room?”

“My dear—” He kissed the top of my head and covered my shoulder with his blanket. “I'm sure you can have whatever you want.”

“Even a piano?”

“Yes, especially that.”

“Cool.”

By the time the credits rolled on the third film of the night, I was so sleepy I didn't even bother to walk down the hall to my own bed. I snuggled up safely next to my good friend, and he leaned down, rolled my shoes off my feet, tucked me up tightly and switched out the lamp. The next thing I felt was cool lips on my brow, then the absence of Arthur’s energy as I let myself slip away.

At some ungodly hour, the sound of snoring pulled me from restful slumber. I sat up, rolled the thick blankets back and hopped out of bed. Arthur was miles away in dreamland, his head cocked awkwardly to one side, a thin blanket pulled up to his chin, and his feet propped on a stool across from the armchair he was sleeping in.

I sighed, brushed his thick dark hair back and kissed his head, then grabbed my shoes and left, closing the door behind me.

“Morning, Quaid,” I said, when he stood from his lean on the wall and started down the hall after me.

“Morning, Queen Ara. Sleep well?”

I glanced back at him. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“No reason.”

“I didn't sleep with him, if that’s why you’re implying.”

“Nope.” His dark face was almost red with humour. “Only that Mike’s gonna spit chips when he finds out.”

I huffed, stopping in the middle of the corridor. “Don't tell him. Simple.”

“Stop disappearing on me, and I won't tell him.”

“Not a chance.” I took off walking again. “You’re too easy to get away from.”

“Yes, but, I get in trouble when I lose you.”

“Then get better at not losing me.” I smirked, slamming my bedroom door on him.

The morning crept along the treetops outside my window, but in here, it was still quite dark and peaceful. I slipped into bed and snuggled down into my soft mattress, hugged warmly by the weight of my quilt, which, for some reason smelled like David. And just like Arthur’s grandfather clock, the one on the wall across my room ticked, a steady beat to ensure time was passing, but as I slipped beyond the realm of wake, it slowed down and I felt kind of weightless, hooking my hand under my pillow to stay grounded.

Jason stared back at me from a memory; his green eyes so full of life, so vibrant and bright, as if his soul held all the purity in the world. “I miss you, Jase,” I whispered, but my breath came back in my own face, thick with the putrid scent of beef or rotting flesh. “Ew!” I looked up, and Jason’s green eyes became the cool blue gaze of my marshmallow pal, sitting by my bed, his inquisitive stare probing me to wake. “What, Petey?” I sat up a bit, rubbing my face. “It’s early, boy. What’d ya want?”

He lowered his head to the floor and came back up with something delicate and silver in his mouth. I reached out and touched his head; his fur was cold and a little moist with dew.

“What is it? What ya got?” I said in my best get-excited-we’re-going-walkies voice.

Petey nuzzled my hand, making me open it, then released the slimy silver string into my palm, and my eyes grew inside my head, becoming wider to take in what I only thought I saw. “Where did you get this?”

He didn't answer.

I looked back at my hand and gently flipped the trinket over, sure only once I saw an inscription in French that this was my locket. My heart. The silver representation of my attachment to David.

“Petey,” I said with a little more urgency. “Where did you get this?”

He got to his feet, as if someone had just grabbed his lead, and wagged his tail, making his whole body sway with the movement. I threw my covers back and stood up, drying the locket on my leg. There was no way he could have found this here at Loslilian—unless Arthur had it. Maybe Jason gave it to him to give back to me. Maybe Petey found it and knew it was mine.

But Petey’s sudden excitement and the fact that he bolted out my balcony door and stood on his hind legs, paws on the railing, whimpering and licking his chops, filled me with a tiny bubble of hope.

“What’s out there, boy?” I looked across the treetops to the grassy field. “Is it him? Is he here?”

He barked, dropping his paws to the ground, then ran to my bedroom door.

I pocketed the locket and followed him, hesitant but shaking with excitement.

My fingers wrapped the handle slowly. There was no way Jason could be alive. No way. I saw him die. I watched him fade. I…I threw dirt on his face.

The handle grated in the turn, and I became ultra aware of each breath, rolling the door slowly toward me, closing my eyes for fear I’d see nothing there.

“Rolf!” Petey brushed past my leg, knocking me into the doorframe, and ran down the hall—disappearing around the stairwell.

“Petey? Wait.”

He didn't wait.

“You okay?” Quaid asked.

“Ur, yeah.” I blinked a few times, discreetly checking every square inch of the corridor. “Was…did you see anyone out here?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Oh. No reason.”

He looked to where Petey had run. “That dog’s mad, Ara. He probably just ran off ‘cause he needed some private time.”

“Yeah. Probably.” I shut the door and leaned against it, my heart thumping in my throat, then reached into my pocket and pulled out the locket. I never thought I’d see it again. A part of me never wanted to see it again. I guess I hoped Jason had taken it to his grave with him—forever to hold a part of my heart.

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