The Eighth Gate

34 | Shattered Mirrors

The problem with running aimlessly through a crowded Carnival without watching where one is going is that the likelihood of crashing into something or someone increases dramatically. Mary wasn't sure how far she had gotten; all she knew that she was far enough that she could no longer hear Mason's voice when she bumped into someone from behind.

"Sorry," Mary said breathlessly just as the person turned around. It was an old woman with eyes the color of the ocean and a sagging face scored with wrinkles. Wispy locks of grey hair capped her head.

She locked eyes with Mary and suddenly her gaze widened, thin, dry lips parting in fear. She stumbled away from Mary and pointed a wrinkly, trembling finger at her.

"You," she said, and her voice was raspy and shaky. "You are going to die."

Mary's blood went cold. "Ex-excuse me?"

The old woman lifted her hand to her chest and clutched the cross she had dangling from her necklace. "The Devil has touched you! You are cursed! You will burn in Hell for all eternity for what you've done!"

Mary flinched at the woman's harsh words. She was yelling at her, pure fury packed behind each syllable.

Her heart hammered in her chest and her mouth went dry. What was this woman talking about? Surely she couldn't know about Mary's role in opening up the gate, could she? Unless she was some religious prophet. That would explain the cross dangling from her neck.

"Get away from me!" The woman moved further back and turned to the people who were passing by, pointing a finger at Mary in indication. "Everyone stay away from her! She will die because of her sins; don't let her drag you down with her!"

Mary didn't like the fact that the woman was calling attention to her, especially when there were people--cops, namely--out there searching for her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mary told the old woman. "Please just calm down."

"You are going to die," the woman hissed, extending the cross out at Mary as if she were a demon. "It's the only way."

"No, she's not," a familiar voice said firmly.

Mary closed her eyes and stifled a sigh. Mason had found her.

Sure enough, he walked up to stand at her side, bringing with him the scent of cotton candy and cologne. Avery was close beside him. "Now how about you leave her alone before I call security?"

The woman looked at Mason for a few moments. Then she cracked a grin and began cackling hysterically. Mary and Mason used that as their cue to leave; a small crowd had begun to form, no doubt attracted by the womanâs loud commotion.

"You all right?" Mason asked her as they sped walked through the busy Carnival.

"That woman knew," Mary whispered, shuddering. "She knew I was involved in something dark. She said the Devil touched me she was talking about the Designator. What if she's right about me dying? What if--"

"Mary," he cut her off, jerking to a stop. Mason placed both his hands on her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "You're not going to die. That was just same crazy old lady who probably escaped from her retirement home. Put her out of your mind. We've got bigger things to worry about right now."

Mary gazed into his fierce emerald eyes, trying yet failing to squelch the uneasy feeling stirring in her stomach. She swallowed and nodded.

"I know," she sighed. "You're right. But first I-- I wanted to apologize. About earlier--"

"You mean when you ran away like I was some demon threatening to eat your soul?" He detached his hands from her shoulders--Mary instantly felt the loss of contact like a cold slap--and shrugged. "I'm not going to lie, that's the first time I've ever gotten that kind of reaction from a girl. But I think the worst part was having to ride that stupid wheel again. And I was by myself."