Marked

Prologue

The night seemed to be getting eerier by the minute. From where he was, Michael could hear leaves rustling; branches cracking; owls hooting. Shame, shame, they seemed to be whispering, their hushed voices echoing through the woods. Michael knew he could very well turn back to where he came from, but he wouldn't.

What he was doing-would it amount to betrayal?

Surely the Countess would understand.

Hauling in a deep breath, he rapped on the door once, twice. It swung open almost immediately. Taking a tentative step into the room, he was almost awed at what he saw.

Chandeliers hung like crystal droplets falling from the night sky, the walls had been painted a deep mahogany color, and the room was decorated with intricate ornaments and little clockwork devices. Clever, he thought, noticing a clockwork mouse scuttling across the floor.

In the middle of the room stood Lemuel, his hand resting atop a brass cane. His lips curved into a thin, menacing smile, half of which was covered by a mask. As Michael summoned up enough courage to walk over to him, he suddenly felt claustrophobic, as if the room was caving in. From such a distance, Lemuel simply looked more sinister. Yet he couldn't walk away now. He simply couldn't.

Then Lemuel cackled roughly, the sound of it like sandpaper grating on his nerves.

"You came," he said smugly, his tone mocking. Indeed, he had known Michael would come.

"I did," Michael replied simply. "Finish what you wanted to say."

Drawing himself to his full height, Michael did his best to look Lemuel squarely in the eye, despite the revolting mask staring back at him. The mask was a grotesque mess of twisted iron partially covering one of his eyes and the bottom half of his face.

Michael fisted his hands by his sides, shakily taking in gulps of air, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to hide the trembling in them. Lemuel observed his actions calmly, clearly enjoying the dominance he had.

Suddenly, something seemed to snap, and Lemuel leered at him behind the mask, the uncovered part of his face contorting with rage.

"You are nothing but a monster," he spat, his coarse voice jarring and sharp. "I created you. And as I have created you, I will destroy you. Slowly, but very, very surely."