“She better be the one. Maya died just so we could confirm it,” Jinx says bitterly.
“Who’s Maya? You mean the woman in the forest?” I ask.
“Yeah, she has to bless every human before they can take the seed test. Getting here to us is always risky; normally she can handle it but this time…” Jinx says.
He sounds a little less bitter, and I risk speaking.
“I’m sorry about Maya. I tried to help,” I assure him.
So, the woman with the beautiful silver hair was Maya. Even though I didn’t get to really know her, my heart aches for her and for their loss.
“It’s okay. She knew the risk. We all do,” Grace whispers, eyes down.
“Alright, Sailor, come toward me and close your eyes,” Mel says.
Why not? I’ll do it and see that I’ve been wrong all these years—I’m no hero or chosen one of whatever the hell they’re looking for—and then I can go back to my mundane life in Tiny Town and stop dreaming of adventure.
I do as she says and hope I’m not making a big mistake. I can hear them whispering amongst each other, discussing me like I’m not here.
“She really might be the one. I have a good feeling,” Sunday whispers.
“Yeah, well she stinks like fear. If she is the one, I say we’re all doomed.”
That was Aziza. Thanks for the confidence. I don’t even know what they are hoping they will discover about me, but her attitude is pissing me off all the same. Maya died to save me, and surely that should mean something to her.
“I’m with Sunday. I have a feeling too,” Grace adds.
“Then again, we had a feeling about the last six candidates and look how that turned out,” Sunday adds.
Nerves start to spread in my stomach. Is he saying that I am one of these candidates? If so, what happened to the last six?
“Everyone, just shut up,” Rye snaps.
His voice soothes me even as he is scolding them. Everyone goes stone-cold silent, and I know without a doubt that Rye is the leader of this little group of sexy misfits.
I feel a soft, warm wind blow toward me. Something makes contact with my chest. I inhale, surprised, and then I’m in pain. Whatever it is, it’s burning me from the outside in. I look at my chest. Something is growing under my skin.
“What the hell did you do to me?!” I shout at the girl who just passed me.
I panic and clutch at my chest, remembering the searing pain from the demon’s claws. The group stares at me, dumbfounded, but nobody moves to help me. I fall to my knees in pain. It feels like someone is attaching hot coals onto my skin. Rye is by my side in seconds. His strong arms wrap around me.
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Breathe through it, Sailor.”
As if the thing is under his command, the pain fades and then disappears.
“What the hell just happened?” I manage through clenched teeth.
Sweat beads on my brow and now I know without a doubt that I am pissed. Confused, full of questions, and pissed. Everyone is looking at my chest. I look too, just to see what they are gawking at. There, on the spot where my heart beats, is a tattoo of a dead tree with four crows on a lone branch.
“What the hell is that?” I yell.
“That’s confirmation. Sailor, you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. You’re the Paradox,” Mel says like I should know what that is.
“The para what now?” I ask, still in Rye’s arms.
“The Paradox. The human who will save all of mankind.”
“What the fuck! You need to fix this!”
I am desperately clawing at the tattoo on my chest.
“Get this shit off me!” I yell.
I am panicking, and when I panic, I am not the nicest person. Call it my fatal flaw, but then again, it’s not normal for a group of sexier than hell gods to brand me like stray cattle and tell me I am responsible for the fate of all mankind.
I got a tattoo. My life is over.
Rye’s mouth makes a fine line as he rubs the back of his neck, trying to release the tension.
“It’s not that simple,” he says quietly.
“So, one of you can bring someone back from the brink of death. Another is a portal. I have no idea what other secrets the rest of you are hiding, but you are telling me that none of you can just snap your fingers, wiggle your nose, and make this damn tattoo disappear?”
They share a look that has my breath catching.
“It’s not really a tattoo,” Grace says.
“Would you like to be the one to explain that to my father!?” I snap.
“It’s the mark of the chosen one,” Grace adds.
There they go again with that chosen one shit. Chosen one for what? And what about Dad? The kids in the books I read, the ones who are chosen to save the fate of the world, never have parents. Or if they do, they don’t care about them. My dad does care. He cares a lot, and I know he must be freaking out about me being missing, probably even more than me. Oh god, what if I show up with this on my chest? He will kill me and then ground me for life. And then the world will apparently be fucked, because I have to save it. Ha. Like that’s going to happen.
I pace in the middle of the group.
“My dad is going to kill me,” I groan, taking a seat in a leather armchair, my hands cradling my head.
My chest still burns where the seed or whatever the hell it was implanted itself in me.
Loki comes out from wherever he was hiding, and I focus on him. I think he’ll make me feel better, but instead
