Page 18 of Soulmarked

My hand brushed the pocket where Sean's card sat like an accusation. Two hunters, two cards, and a dead man who'd been looking for protection.

“I need to talk to the wife,” I said.

Diana Sullivan'shome was a study in paranoia made manifest. Every doorway had iron horseshoes mounted above it. Salt lines traced windowsills. Religious icons from half a dozen faiths crowded shelves and tables, as if she was hedging her bets on which god might save her.

She sat perfectly composed on an antique sofa, her designer outfit immaculate, but her eyes never stopped moving. They darted to corners, to shadows, watching for something she couldn't name.

“Tea?” she offered, her smile too practiced. The cups she brought out had salt crystals embedded in the rim. “For protection,” she added, catching my look.

“Mrs. Sullivan...”

“Diana, please.”

“Diana.” I noted fresh scratches on her arms as she poured, the marks forming patterns similar to those under her husband's desk. “When did Marcus start seeing things?”

Her hand trembled, spilling tea. “I don't know what you mean.”

“The protective symbols. The salt. The horseshoes.” I gestured around us. “These aren't normal decorating choices.”

Something cracked in her perfect facade. “You'll think I'm crazy.”

“Try me.”

She set down her cup, hands shaking. “It started two months ago. Marcus was working late, something about a merger with Phoenix Pharmaceuticals. He came home... different.” Her voice caught. “Said he saw something in his office mirror. A face that wasn't his. After that, he started seeing them everywhere.”

“Them?”

“The hungry ones.” She whispered it like a curse. “That's what he called them. Said they followed him, watched him through reflections. He'd wake up screaming about cold hands and endless hunger.”

She pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she pulled up a video. “Our security camera caught this last week.”

The footage showed their bedroom at night. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then a shadow moved across the wall. As it passed their bed, Marcus's sleeping form twitched in pain.

“He found someone,” Diana continued, her voice hollow. “Called themselves 'The Guardian.' Said they could protect him, for a price.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “We paid. God, we paid so much. But it didn't work. Nothing worked.”

I studied her arms, the scratched symbols that matched the ones from the office. “Did you do those yourself?”

She touched the marks absently. “Marcus said they would help. Said The Guardian taught him how to make them.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Fat lot of good they did.”

“Do you still have The Guardian's card?”

She shook her head. “Marcus burned it after... after they failed him. Said it was worse than useless now.”

I pulled out the sketch of the symbols I'd found. “Were they like these?”

Diana's face went white, her shaking fingers hovering over the paper without quite touching it. “Where did you...” She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room, to the shadows that suddenly seemed deeper than they should be. “They're here, aren't they? Right now. Watching us.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Something shifted in the decorative mirror, not a reflection, but a presence that made my mark burn cold against my chest. When I turned to look directly, there was only empty glass, but the wrongness lingered.

“Mrs. Sullivan,” I said carefully, “I need you to come with me. It's not safe here.”

She laughed, the sound brittle as breaking ice. “It's not safe anywhere. Marcus proved that.” Her hands twisted in her lap, knuckles white. “The hungry ones... they always find you. Once they start watching, they never stop. Not until...”

The words died in her throat as her eyes fixed on something behind me. I didn't need to turn to know what she was seeing, the mark's pulse told me enough. In the mirror's reflection, reality seemed to bend slightly, showing glimpses of what Marcus must have seen before he died. A face that wasn't a face, hunger older than time, darkness given form.

“We need to leave. Now.” I moved toward her, but Diana shrank back, her eyes never leaving whatever watched us from the mirror. “Mrs. Sullivan, please. Let me help you.”

“You can't.” Her voice carried a certainty that chilled me more than any supernatural presence. “No one can. I've triedeverything, silver, salt, holy water. Nothing stops them once they start watching. Nothing keeps them out.”

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