The Ghosts

Chapter Ten

Unedited.

Chapter Ten

 The ceremony for my marks wasn’t anything like when we received our Guild mark. It was a closed production, only Lena, the Second in Command, Gregori, and for the first time, a Vampire were allowed in attendance.

After walking into the creepy stone room, I sat in the same wooden chair as last time. Lena stepped up in front of me.

“Georgiana Vertigo. As a member of this Guild you’ve killed thirteen beings. Before that, as a student, you killed four. This puts you at seventeen, more than some who’ve been with us for years. We do not take pleasure in death, no matter who the victim is. There is a hole in the world now that they are gone. The marks are for remembrance. Wear them with pride.”

The Artist came out of the shadows like last time and stood behind me. He said the same things as last time, the same as Lena practically. He turned on his machine and pressed his version of a charcoal pencil to my neck. I didn’t even flinch as the needles pierced my skin.

“Why do you draw?”

He smiled, not taking his eyes off the paper. “Because I’m an artist.”

“But why are you an artist?”

He put his pencil down and turned to look at me. We were sitting so close, like usual, our bodies touching from shoulder to the smallest toe.

“Someone has to create beauty. Why not me?”

“But all you do is draw me.”

He smiled and cupped my face. “I draw you, Ana,” he whispered, “because you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”

I smiled and looked at his lips. “Are you trying to win me over?”

“I’ve already won you over.” He kissed me briefly. “I don’t need words or drawings for that.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because when I draw you, when I put your beauty to paper, I’m making it last forever.”

I was about to tell The Artist to stop so I could bolt. Remembering Aidan like that was something I hadn’t done in a long time. But before I could form the words, the tattooing stopped.

It was over.

He wiped the blood and extra ink off my skin, finishing off with rubbing ointment on lightly. I felt something trickle down my face and I reached up to wipe it off, thinking the Artist left something to drip. Instead, when I looked, my fingers were moist with a tear.

The Artist bent so he was speaking directly in my ear.

“He was right.”

I turned to look at him. He stared right back at me and for the first time I got a good look at him, not that I didn’t last time but…

He had coal black hair that was long but tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes were dark but bright at the same time. I stood up and we continued to stare at each other. Everyone else in the room started to talk amongst themselves.

The last time we spoke came to mind and I finally asked him the question I’d been dying to.

“How?”

He didn’t say anything as he pulled his white t-shirt away from his neck. A bite mark graced his flesh, shiny like mother of pearl.

“I was like you once.” He reached in his pocket and held out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve decided.”