Es heads to my small kitchen, and I sink into the couch in the living room. Suddenly my whole body aches, and I feel the hours of sleepless exhaustion take its toll on me, but I'm too wired to actually sleep. The apartment is too still. Too quiet. Even the annoying hum of the refrigerator is missing, and I idly wonder if it stopped working as well. There are small signs of my mother everywhere. Her boots by the front door, one lying on its side. Her jacket draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Her favorite magazines spread out on the table in front of the couch.
Pete sits in the love seat across from me, and Es brings us coffees and sits next to him.
Now that we are all settled, I lean in to Pete. "Okay, spill it."
Pete pulls out his phone to look at the picture I sent. "Whose wrist is this?"
"My mom's."
He frowns. "How long has she had a mark like this?"
"It's new," I say. "I've never seen it until today."
"So it wasn't there before she fell into this coma?" he asks.
"No."
"This is bad, Ari. Very bad."
I blow on my coffee and sip it, trying to control my impatience. "Enough with the scary omens. Just tell me."
He opens up a browser on his phone and shows me image after image of the mark on my mom's wrist.
"This is the Mark of Cain. You know the story of Cain and Abel? From the Bible?"
I nod, recalling old Bible stories from my childhood. An old neighbor of ours used to babysit me when I was little and my mom was working. She'd drag me to church with her, and was devoted to the idea that my soul needed saving. It didn't stick, but I remember some of it. "They were both told by God to make sacrifices to him, or something. Abel's was accepted by God but Cain's was rejected. He and Abel fought and Cain killed his brother and was marked for it."
"That's the gist. But some believe there's more to the story. Some believe that mark did more than just serve as a sign to others that he deserved death. Some believe that mark turned him."
"Turned him into what?" I ask.
"Into a demon. One who feeds on the pain of others. That he was condemned to spend eternity torturing others or he would feel that torture himself, day in and day out for all time."
I shake my head. "This is why religion does not make sense to me. What kind of God asks for blood sacrifices, then punishes people who don't do it?"
"A vengeful God," Pete says.
"So what does this have to do with my mother?" I shudder, feeling an evil premonition descend upon me.
"If she bears the Mark of Cain, then she is his." Pete whispers this so quietly it takes my mind a moment to make sense of his words.
"You think my mom is being held prisoner by Cain—a demon?"
He doesn't answer, but I can see on his face that's exactly what he believes. I look to Es for help. Surely she can't believe this nonsense? But she averts her eyes, her shoulders slumped, her hand resting on Pete's knee. She believes him.
"Have you both lost your mind? These stories aren't real. It's all just a bunch of morality tales meant to scare kids—and adults—into behaving in the way whoever was in charge wanted them to."
Pete shakes his head. "I know you're a skeptic, and I've never tried to push my beliefs on you, but Ari... you have to open your eyes. There are things in this world that defy logic."
I want to argue, to tell him there's a very logical and rational explanation for what happened to my mother, to tell him I will find a way to save her with science. But I can't. My mind returns to the man at The Roxy. The man with the same kind of mark but in a different design. The man with the strange eyes and the accent I couldn't place. The man who knew my name, my full name, when no one at work calls me Arianna only Ari.
"I have to go!" I say, jumping up. "I need to see my mom again."
Pete drives me to the hospital, and in the urgency to see my mother again, I tolerate being in the car with less terror than normal. Yay for me. When we arrive, Pete tries to park, but I tell him and Es to go home and rest. "I need some time to process things, and you both need sleep. I'll call you later, okay?"
They relent and drive off, leaving me in drifts of newly fallen snow at the front door of the hospital. The sun has already set, marking the end of a day that has seemed an eternity. I run in and find my mother's room. She's still lying there, just as she was. I turn her wrist over and stare at the mark. Is this really the Mark of Cain? Could the story be true?
I pull out the strange man's business card and dial the number on it.
"I was expecting your call, though I admit, I thought it would arrive earlier," he says before I've even have a chance to speak.
"Who are you? What have you done to my mother?"
"I've done nothing to your mother. But without me, she will be lost for good. Without me, her soul will suffer for all eternity." His voice echoes around me, and I look up to see him standing at the door of my mother's room, holding his phone to his ear.
When he sees me notice him, he smiles and puts his phone away. "Hello Arianna Spero. It's time at last we talked. Tell me, do you want to save your mother?"
Chapter 3
STRANGER DANGER
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"Let's put the blame where it belongs, shall we?"
—Arianna Spero