Cursed

Chapter 24: Bloody tattoos

"What do you mean, mine isn't black?" I squeaked out. "Of course it is."

Kate looked pained. Her hair danced around when she shook her head.

"It is only partly black. But mainly it looks red, like blood dripping off of it. I tried to scrub it off, but it's not blood. It's your mark."

"You must've-," She must've what? Seen it wrong? Then why was my tattoo tingling now?

I pulled my shirt up - not entirely off, considering that I was too acutely aware of Kate's presence. With difficulty I looked down at my bruised ribs. Indeed, my tattoo was not entirely pitch black. The black ran over into a brownish-red that then turned into a crimson red that looked entirely too much like blood for my liking.

A series of profanities left my lips while I pulled my shirt down. I stepped backwards, as if walking away from Kate would defuse this truth bomb. My back hit the boulder. It should've hurt, but my mind was too distracted by this new information to even notice.

"How?" My voice was a high-pitched screech.

Kate shook her head. "I don't know."

"This shouldn't be possible. I was born with a black mark, like everyone else in my village. I have seen it a hundred times. That stupid circle with that stupid cross. I even tried to cut it out once. It never bled. Ever!"

Words tumbled out of my mouth. My hands roamed over my body in nervous patterns. This shouldn't be possible. Hunter tattoos never changed! You were born with it, and you died with it. That's how it was. Your fate was decided before you even took your first breath.

Of course, my fate - and the fate of every other Hunter - was tempered with the night of the ritual. They had changed something. That must be it. That witch with the dark emerald eyes and the dangerous smile. She must have changed the magic in my blood. It made sense. All the changes I went through since that night almost two months ago. The uncontrollable bloodlust when it came to vampires, the better reflexes, my increased strength. Heather had spoken about the bloodlink between Kate and myself. It must be true. Just like the pitch-black Hunter tattoo was a manifestation of the Old Magic in the veins of every Hunter, my bloody tattoo must be a manifestation of the magic that twisted with the original spell. I might even call it a curse.

Kate's hand landed on my shoulder. In complete surprise, I looked up. She gently squeezed. We stayed like that for a while, her hand on my shoulder, my head slightly tilted sideways.

"They broke my tattoo," I eventually said, my voice a broken whisper.

Kate exhaled, squeezed once more, before she spoke. "I'm afraid of what else they broke."

"Who are they?"

"I only know of the witch we saw yesterday. And I remember there being a doctor as well, he's the one who did the blood transfusion. He wasn't a fan of vampires, that I remember clearly. If I had to guess, I'd say he had an unfortunate encounter with a vampire. I wouldn't even be surprised if he was the mastermind behind whatever this is we are facing. The hatred that burned in his eyes was like I had never seen before. Yet, it is that witch that makes my skin crawl." Kate let her hand roam over her lower arm, as if she wanted to calm down the risen hairs. "I felt the power that night of the ritual, it was dizzying. Nothing good ever comes from something like that."

"Why are the Hunters working with them? What does the witch have to gain from me killing vampires?"

"All good questions, but I only have my own theories, nothing more. We need proof. My father-," Kate looked away. "He won't listen. This is bigger than just you, I feel it in my bones. I need to stop them before-"