. .” She swallowed, reaching for the spigot, twisting it on, and running some more cold water over her hands, then her face. As she shut the faucet off, the droplets plunked into the sink. “I thought the first one was a mark against me, like a scarlet letter or whatever. But today, I held back with Claudius. I didn’t Hulk out. So how did this new one get here?”
“I am not certain. However, there are those who believe that our cells react to our thoughts and emotions. Our bodies change when the mind affects them, and perhaps the marks are a more intense result of what is happening inside of you.”
“Like hives?”
“Perhaps. It could be a release of even more poisonous energy.”
While the water kept dripping, Costin walked out of the bathroom and her mind raced.
She’d held back today. She’d repressed the ugliness, but it’d come out anyway—a situation that echoed the one from over a year ago, when she’d mentally boxed away the memory of seeing Eva’s supposedly dead body in a crime scene photo. Yet, back then, Dawn hadn’t been marked on her face when she’d forced back the hideous emotions. It’d been her mind powers that’d emerged full force instead.
Was she just operating differently now because of her tarnished soul? Had the darkness inside just been waiting for her to cross over some previously taboo lines to start up with this new fun?
Costin returned within a minute, urging a bottle of supplement juice on her, along with a bagel. She took a swig of the juice and it slid down her throat to her stomach, which was still churning.
“I have no solid answers about what is occurring with you,” he said, “but I do have a theory.”
Great, one of those.
He gave it to her. “We are seeing that, no matter if you keep your anger back or give freedom to it, it will materialize.”
The juice lined her mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“And,” he added, “perhaps these marks have something to do with how you . . .” He trailed off.
“Just say it, Costin.”
He lowered his tone, but it didn’t sting any less. “Perhaps you have come to enjoy your anger, Dawn, and your body is punishing you for it.”
“Wait, I see where this is going. You’re going to tell me that there’s a difference between fighting against the enemy, doing the job I have to do, and actually liking it. And I’ve started liking it too much.” Costin was an example of a hunter who didn’t cotton to his calling, whereas night by night, it was becoming apparent that she was the opposite.
Maybe that should’ve frightened her more, but it didn’t.
Forcing down the bagel and the rest of the juice, she left the bathroom on still-wobbly legs, going to the closet, where there was a weapons locker in back of all the hanging dark clothing that both she and Costin—and Jonah—preferred to wear. She unlocked the cache door behind a rack of coats as he followed her.
“Or,” he said, “we could look at your changes in this way: sometimes, I think you despise yourself more than you do the enemy. The marks could be a sign of that, as well.”
“Like self-mutilation? I’m no cutter.” Grabbing a hip holster from the locker, she wrapped it around herself, buckling it. She didn’t add that she thought Costin probably resented her even more than she did herself, what with this whole human master/ vampire progeny relationship that he’d never wanted.
“When I return from the Underground,” he said, “we need to talk about this at greater length.”
He was so damned sure he was going to return.
She should be, too. “So we’ll talk then.”
“I mean we should talk . And we should include . . . others.”
The way he said it made her bristle. “Why do I have the feeling you’re suggesting a shrink?”
“I would not rule out professional guidance.”
Jay-sus. “I don’t do therapy. Never have, never will.”
“It might have been appropriate, given your relationship with Eva, for one matter. I am sure
“I am not certain. However, there are those who believe that our cells react to our thoughts and emotions. Our bodies change when the mind affects them, and perhaps the marks are a more intense result of what is happening inside of you.”
“Like hives?”
“Perhaps. It could be a release of even more poisonous energy.”
While the water kept dripping, Costin walked out of the bathroom and her mind raced.
She’d held back today. She’d repressed the ugliness, but it’d come out anyway—a situation that echoed the one from over a year ago, when she’d mentally boxed away the memory of seeing Eva’s supposedly dead body in a crime scene photo. Yet, back then, Dawn hadn’t been marked on her face when she’d forced back the hideous emotions. It’d been her mind powers that’d emerged full force instead.
Was she just operating differently now because of her tarnished soul? Had the darkness inside just been waiting for her to cross over some previously taboo lines to start up with this new fun?
Costin returned within a minute, urging a bottle of supplement juice on her, along with a bagel. She took a swig of the juice and it slid down her throat to her stomach, which was still churning.
“I have no solid answers about what is occurring with you,” he said, “but I do have a theory.”
Great, one of those.
He gave it to her. “We are seeing that, no matter if you keep your anger back or give freedom to it, it will materialize.”
The juice lined her mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“And,” he added, “perhaps these marks have something to do with how you . . .” He trailed off.
“Just say it, Costin.”
He lowered his tone, but it didn’t sting any less. “Perhaps you have come to enjoy your anger, Dawn, and your body is punishing you for it.”
“Wait, I see where this is going. You’re going to tell me that there’s a difference between fighting against the enemy, doing the job I have to do, and actually liking it. And I’ve started liking it too much.” Costin was an example of a hunter who didn’t cotton to his calling, whereas night by night, it was becoming apparent that she was the opposite.
Maybe that should’ve frightened her more, but it didn’t.
Forcing down the bagel and the rest of the juice, she left the bathroom on still-wobbly legs, going to the closet, where there was a weapons locker in back of all the hanging dark clothing that both she and Costin—and Jonah—preferred to wear. She unlocked the cache door behind a rack of coats as he followed her.
“Or,” he said, “we could look at your changes in this way: sometimes, I think you despise yourself more than you do the enemy. The marks could be a sign of that, as well.”
“Like self-mutilation? I’m no cutter.” Grabbing a hip holster from the locker, she wrapped it around herself, buckling it. She didn’t add that she thought Costin probably resented her even more than she did herself, what with this whole human master/ vampire progeny relationship that he’d never wanted.
“When I return from the Underground,” he said, “we need to talk about this at greater length.”
He was so damned sure he was going to return.
She should be, too. “So we’ll talk then.”
“I mean we should talk . And we should include . . . others.”
The way he said it made her bristle. “Why do I have the feeling you’re suggesting a shrink?”
“I would not rule out professional guidance.”
Jay-sus. “I don’t do therapy. Never have, never will.”
“It might have been appropriate, given your relationship with Eva, for one matter. I am sure
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