The Devil's Mark (Book 1)

Chapter One: Happy Birthday

Jason

At six o'clock in the evening on a cold Friday, I finished shutting down the bar and locked up the place. I took the ring of keys and left them in the usual spot behind the filing cabinet in the manager's office. I switched off the open sign and stepped out into the night, locking the door. A gust of wind circled around me shaking me to the bone as I shivered and bundled up my jacket.

The night sky was clear and all the stars were out. At the corner of Brisbane and Narrow, I waited until the light changed from a red hand to a green man before crossing the street. But the instant my foot touched the pavement, a black SUV came rushing at me. I didn't even have time to get out of the way. The right side of my body slammed into the grille, causing my head to ran smack into the glossy black hood.

The force from the impact was so great that I flipped over the roof and hit the ground with gooey thud. I know I should be dead. But I'm not. Over the course of my life, I've had a secret that I couldn't tell anyone about until now. I've stabbed, shot, had my throat slit and I've still survived. Am I immortal? I do not know. But I believe I'm cursed.

Flashing lights of blue and red creep out of the corner of my eye followed by the sound of screeching brakes. A team of cops and a corner appear at my side as they begin an investigation. It doesn't take long before reporters and news cameras show up to get an up close shot of mangled bloody corpse. Assholes. A thin white line traces along the outside of my body before a man puts me inside a body bag.

Afterwards, I'm loaded into the back of a van like a slab of meat and transported to the county morgue. Instantly, my body begins to mend and heal itself from the inside out. Pops and cracks are the least of my worries. The blunt force trauma to the right side of my head hurts even worse as my skull bone regrows, the skin reattaches, my hair grows back.

I'm able to wiggle my fingers and toes by the time the van arrives at the medical examiner's office. A cart transports me inside as a two-man team lifts me up and sets me down on a cold metal slab used to perform autopsy. The bag unzips revealing a harsh white light and an old guy that clearly shouldn't be holding a scalpel anymore.

He signs the forms and tells the men that he'll put me on ice and do the autopsy in the morning. Thank God. I'm placed in a freezer that closely resembles the height and width of a casket. Though I've never been in one before, that's just how I imagine it. The door clicks into place and the cold sets in. I listen to the departing footsteps until I hear nothing but silence.

Time to get out of here.

Sticking my finger through a small opening in the body bag, I unzip it the rest of the way and get my legs free. I press the soles of my shoes against the door and kick as hard as I can. Three kicks later and the door swings open. I breathe a sigh of relief and slide out, dropping to the floor with a thud. Ugh. Damn. Who knew dying and coming back to life each and every time could be a real bitch.

I exit the morgue through the double doors and come face to face with a member of the cleaning crew. Wearing a headset and smoking a cigarette, the middle aged Mexican man stops the floor waxer and stares at me in shock. I guess from my bloody clothes and bruised face, I probably look like a real life zombie. I step around him and head for the outside world.

A pulled muscle causes me to crack my neck. I hail a taxi and give the woman my directions. I arrive home at exactly 10:30PM. I pay the driver and make the short walk up my parents driveway. I put my key in the lock and turn the knob. Inside, the house is silent. I call out to my parents but they don't answer. I find them in the kitchen quietly whispering to each other until they see me looking like a rag doll.

"Oh, my God!" Mom cries. "Honey. What happened to you?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Mom. I'm just a little banged up. I'll be fine."