The Marked Girl (10 page)

The doctor finally stopped in front of a room and ushered Liv inside. Rita lay in the center of a hospital bed, her body a small, straight line under a tight sheet. Various tubes connected into her arms, which looked so drained of color they almost matched the white fabric of the bed. Her face looked equally drained, its only distinguishing color coming from the greenish-yellow tinge beneath her eyes.

Liv walked closer and carefully took Rita's hand.

“Oh, kid,” Rita said, her voice raspy, “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay. The only thing that matters is you're okay.”

“No, I really messed up,” Rita said, then coughed. “I never meant . . . you have to know I didn't mean for this . . .”

“I know,” Liv said. She thought back to those panicked moments when she'd seen Rita lying on the concrete outside of the kitchen patio door. Her first thought had been, crazily, that it was her fault. That the wrath had followed her home and hurt Rita. And she hadn't thought
the man in the alley
, or
the black-
eyed man
; her brain had immediately gone to Cedric's word. The
wrath
.

It wasn't until she saw the empty liquor bottle that she knew what had really happened. And in that instant, she'd felt a bit of relief that she hadn't been responsible, but she'd also felt a sense of the inevitable, like some part of her knew the second she'd been placed under Rita's care that this moment would occur. Rita was kind, but she wasn't happy. And she wasn't good at taking care of herself.

“It's okay,” Liv whispered again. She leaned closer to Rita and grasped her hand tighter. “It's going to be okay.”

Rita closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. “No, Liv, you don't understand . . .”

Liv shook her head in confusion. It wasn't until she heard a familiar voice calling her name that she understood what Rita was trying to say.

Liv turned around and saw Joe, her caseworker, standing in the doorway. Joe wore his typical flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. He carried a tattered leather satchel under one arm. His beard had grown slightly longer since the last time Liv had seen him.

“Joe,” Liv started. “What are you doing here?” But she already knew. Just the fact that Joe had shown up at the hospital could only mean one thing.

“I've come to see how you are,” Joe said, his voice gentle, but wary.

“I think we're going to be okay,” Liv said, speaking fast. “Honestly, the doctor says she just needs a couple days of rest,
and Rita didn't mean for it to happen. It was an accident, and I think if we just go home—”

“Liv.” Joe shook his head.

“Please.” Liv looked directly into his eyes. “I don't want to go to another home. There's got to be some way, please . . .”

“You know you can't, Liv. The hospital had to call us straightaway, so it's already on file. You're only sixteen, and the rules—”

“Please, Joe. Please.” Liv could hear the desperation rising in her voice, and she struggled to get it under control. “Who's going to take care of Rita while she gets better?”

“It should have been me taking care of you,” Rita whispered. Liv knew she should turn around and look at her, should try to relieve Rita's guilt in some way. But she couldn't face her. She kept her eyes trained on Joe.

“Rita's agreed to enter a thirty-day rehabilitation program. She'll be just fine. Can you wait in the hallway for a few minutes, Liv? I have some matters to discuss with Rita, and then you and I can talk about what happens next.”

Liv nodded, numb. She braved one last look at Rita, who shook her head, mouthed the word
sorry
, and looked away. Liv dropped Rita's hand and walked out of the room. Joe shut the door behind her.

Liv took a few steps down the hallway and waited just a beat before breaking into a sprint toward the stairwell. She felt a pang of guilt for ditching Joe. He was one of those rare caseworkers who always went a step beyond his duty, and he'd been looking out for Liv from her first day in the system. She'd always tried to
forget the very first foster home she'd stayed in after her parents died, but it was impossible to erase the memories of how terrified she'd been. How her foster parents were strictly religious and unforgiving, how they'd considered her “unclean.” How they'd left her marked forever.

It was Joe who'd saved her from them, and she'd always remember the way he'd looked at the couple when he saw how they'd treated Liv. The fire in his eyes when he took her away.

He'd been trying to look out for her, in one way or another, ever since. He'd placed her with Chuck and Marty and checked up on her more regularly than most caseworkers would have. He never forced Liv to go to group therapy when she really, really didn't want to go. He told Liv he knew what it was like to lose family, and she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to.

Liv knew that she owed a lot to Joe, and things could have gone much worse for her without him. But still . . . getting placed in another temporary group home just wasn't something she could handle, not right now. Any choice of her own was better than that.

Liv's feet beat against the linoleum as she raced down the hospital staircase. Shoving open the heavy, metal door, she was instantly bathed in the bright morning sunlight. She took off like a shot across the parking lot.

She'd apologize to Joe later.

L
iv sat on the edge of her bed at Rita's house and stared at the worn, packed duffel lying at her feet. She knew she should get moving—this was the first place Joe would look for her—but she couldn't help looking around her room one last time. She thought about that idea, of it being her room. When she'd woken up that morning, the room was definitely hers. But by tomorrow, it would be just a guest bedroom once again.

Liv pushed her palms up against her eye sockets to stop angry tears from falling. She was mad at herself for caring, for letting herself get comfortable in this home for even a moment, for believing in the notion of a home at all. She knew better than that—she had more than ten years of practice in knowing better than that.

All of Liv's clothes and books fit in her duffel. Her camera equipment was already safely packed away in the trunk of her car, which she was reclaiming. Rita wouldn't need it in rehab, anyway. Liv lifted the photo of her and Shannon off the dresser and tucked it in her bag, officially leaving the room exactly as she'd found it. She left quickly. It never helped to look back.

She was halfway through the kitchen when she heard a low creaking noise coming from the living room. Footsteps? Liv stopped in her tracks and turned her head in the direction of the noise. But all she could make out now was the sound of a car horn in the distance.

Carefully, Liv set her duffel bag down on the kitchen floor. She looked around for something solid and heavy to grab, eventually choosing the tea kettle on the stove. The noise sounded again—the same creaking, only for longer this time. She pictured the face of the man who'd followed her down the alley, and her heart pounded hard.

Liv gripped the kettle and slowly made her way toward the living room. She got to the doorway, then inched her head into the room and peered around. Couch, television, drapes. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Sighing, Liv felt the tension leave her shoulders. Just as she was beginning to feel silly for getting so worked up over a noise, she saw a blurring motion moving toward her from her left-hand side.

Without thinking, Liv swung the kettle with all of her might. She felt it connect, but didn't realize who or what she'd hit until she heard a loud groan and a male voice crying out in pain.

“Cedric?”

“Ow. Again.” Cedric stepped forward and rubbed his shoulder. “Should I always be prepared for violence when we meet?”

Liv let out a breath of relief and loosened her grip on the tea kettle. “Meet? You broke into my house!”

“The door was open.”

“So you just came right in?”

Cedric shrugged, and then instantly winced in pain, reaching up for his shoulder again.

“Well, here's a pro tip for living in LA: knock before entering.”

Liv set down the kettle and picked up her duffel. Cedric was still rubbing his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“You told me to come if I needed to find a new place to stay.”

Liv raised an eyebrow. “Well, as it happens, I'm looking for a new place to stay, too.”

Cedric looked around at the living room and Rita's modest belongings. “What is wrong with this place? It seems . . . very comfortable.”

“It was.” Liv kept her eyes trained on the floor. “It's not anymore.”

He didn't push the issue.

“We should probably get out of here,” Liv said. “I'll drive, obviously.”

Cedric followed her to the door and reached out an arm for her bag. “Here, let me.”

“No, it's okay,” Liv said, swinging the duffel in front of her body. Instead of grabbing the bag's straps, Cedric's outstretched fingers instead brushed against Liv's hip, briefly touching the skin between her T-shirt and jeans. He pulled his fingers back quickly, and Liv felt her face redden. She was glad for the dim
lighting of Rita's living room.

“I apologize. I did not mean . . . ,” Cedric started.

“It's okay. I just don't like people touching my stuff,” Liv said, then felt her blush deepen. “I mean, my bag. That's what I meant. By stuff.”

Cedric nodded, but Liv could see confusion written on his face. She shook her head. “Let's just go.”

Liv led Cedric out of the house and down the short driveway to her rust-red Corolla. She opened the back door and threw her duffel over the seat, then got into the driver's side. Cedric slowly opened his door and sat down, his back rigid against the passenger seat. He placed his palms down flat on his knees and stared through the windshield.

“You okay?” Liv asked.

Cedric swallowed and nodded, but kept his gaze forward. “I am still unaccustomed to these.”

“To . . . cars?”

“Yes. They move . . . much faster than I prefer.”

Liv shook her head and put her keys in the ignition. “Not this one, trust me. I saw you moving in that alley, and you could probably outpace my Corolla any day.”

Cedric smiled, that lopsided smile Liv remembered from the night before.

“So how did you get here?” Liv asked as she reversed the car down the driveway. She noticed Cedric's eyes following the movements of her hands as she turned the wheel.

“It took several hours, I admit. I ran part of the way—”

“Ran? That's, like, miles.”

“And then I caught up to one of those large cars. The orange ones.”

“You mean a bus?”

Cedric nodded, his eyes darting around the road as Liv pulled into traffic. A car moved in front of Liv's, and Cedric flinched.

“Somehow I have a hard time picturing you in a bus,” Liv said.

“I was not really in it, so much as I was riding on the back end, where no one could see me.”

“Sure. Like you do.”

Cedric didn't notice her sarcasm. “It went fairly slowly, so it was easy to hang on. I probably could have run here faster, truthfully.”

Liv just shook her head and decided to let it go. She would help Cedric find a place to stay, as promised, but she wouldn't help to actively encourage his delusions.

“So I want to try this house in Echo Park first. I stayed there for a couple of weeks when I had this foster situation that . . . well, let's just say it sucked.”

“We must go to the museum first and get the others.” Cedric's voice was tense as the car picked up speed.

“Of course we must,” Liv muttered. She waited until she was stopped at a red light before looking over at him. “You know, it might help you relax if you buckle up.”

“Buckle what?”

Liv sighed.

All of Cedric's muscles ached from sitting so stiffly in the car. Just a few feet away, Liv seemed perfectly at ease. Her hands worked the controls in confident, easy motions that were completely foreign to him, no matter how much sense he tried to make of them. Whenever Cedric looked to his left or right and saw objects flying past the window in a series of blurred motions, he felt his stomach roll over on itself.

“You really need to chill out,” Liv said, glancing over at him. Cedric had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn't want her to know that. Even though he had spent time at the museum eavesdropping on patrons to better understand the language of this world, it still took him some time to puzzle out certain expressions. He had to go by facial expression and body language to figure out what Liv was saying half the time. Now, her voice was calm, but her eyes looked worried. She was concerned for him.

Cedric breathed out when he saw the familiar shape of the museum.

“Looks like the museum's closing, so I'm going to park on the street,” Liv said. She maneuvered around a turn so fast that Cedric went flying across the center portion of the car and practically landed on her seat. He reached out a hand to steady himself, but it somehow landed on her thigh. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through the fabric of her pants, and he felt his stomach swoop the way it had when he'd accidentally brushed against her in her house earlier. It was a strange feeling, like taking a step and finding a bottomless hole where the ground used to be. Like jumping through the portal all over again.

Cedric pulled his hand away quickly and pushed himself over to the far side of his seat. Liv kept her face turned forward, though Cedric thought her cheeks were a bit pinker than before.

“See? That's why we buckle up.”

The car came to a stop near the alley that led to his secret living space. The area was mostly deserted. In the distance, Cedric could see cars pulling away from the main museum entrance in one long trail, their red lights blinking on and off in a strangely beautiful pattern.

Just as Cedric got out of the car and put his feet on the ground, he heard the sound of yelling.

“Cedric!”

Cedric turned around and saw a lone figure running toward the museum. Merek.

And he wasn't alone. Four, five—no, six men were chasing him, their footsteps echoing along the street.

“Cedric!” Merek yelled again, waving his arms. That's when Cedric realized that the men following him weren't actually men at all.

Merek barreled forward, nearly running smack into Cedric and Liv, who had also exited the car. Cedric grabbed his shoulders.

“You led them here?”

Merek's face twisted. “No! I just—”

And then the wraths were upon them. Cedric vaguely heard the sound of Liv crying out as he squared off to push back the first wrath he saw. There were too many of them to fight easily—they outnumbered him and Merek three to one.

Instead of panicking, a sense of familiar calm washed over Cedric. Finally, finally, here was something he knew he could handle. He didn't have to devise an elaborate plan, search for a secret artifact, defend his leadership, or try to make conversation with an alluring girl from a strange hell dimension. He only had to calculate strength and response. Defend and attack.

This was a language he knew. And one he was good at.

The first wrath to approach Cedric gripped a long, metal pipe. As he swung it out, Cedric easily ducked away. He used the spare second to retrieve his knife from the hidden pocket Kat had sewn into his pants. He cut the knife down toward the wrath's midsection, but the wrath skidded backward.

Cedric turned quickly to Liv, who seemed frozen in place as a tall wrath, muscled and wearing a thick red beard, reached out for her. Just as she put up an arm to defend herself, Cedric spun around and kicked out with his right leg, connecting with the red-haired wrath's face. The creature was only momentarily stunned, and Cedric was just positioning himself to land another blow when he felt something heavy slam into his back. He nearly dropped to his knees before forcing himself back up to face the first wrath, who still held the metal pipe in its clawed grip.

Though his back was on fire, Cedric straightened to face both the red-haired wrath and the wrath with the pipe as they advanced on him. Through their figures he could just barely make out Merek dodging a series of blows. The wraths were pushing them back, toward the alley that led to the tunnel entrance.

Blocking the metal pipe with his left arm as he swung his
knife out with his right, Cedric yelled out to Liv. “We need help—get Kat!”

He wasn't even able to turn around and see if she had followed his direction before the two wraths smashed into him with astonishing force. He pulled both wraths to the ground, and the next noise he heard was the harsh crack of breaking bones echoing off the alley's brick walls.