Within Gold and Glass (Book One of the Jamyria Series)

The Unwelcome Duo (Pt. 2)

"Well, good morning, gentlemen!"

"Yes, good morning!" The woman chimes, just as chipper as ever.

Margo cranes her neck until she makes out the two familiar figures strolling casually up to Cameron's house. The Crewman hovering over Cameron cautiously shoves the item back in his coat, making an agitated sound in the back of his throat. There is only silence as the two guests step lithely onto Cameron's lot. The two Crewmen broaden their shoulders while Cameron seizes the opportunity to back up toward the house, toward Margo.

Nick Thomas clings to his hat as a gust of wind nearly steals it in its flight, while Janie squeezes a paper-wrapped package in her arms. "My, my..." Nick speaks to only Janie, ignoring the four pairs of eyes on them. "Seems to be a party going on at the boy's house."

"Yes," she returns. "Unexpected guests from the Queen, herself!" The flattery falls short. "Why, I'd almost say that — oh my! Good heavens, Margo, put some clothes on!" Janie's eyebrows tighten into a thin line as she fusses. She turns to the Crewmen. "How dare you interrupt her this early! Give a woman some time to put on her face." She scrunches her nose up at them.

The taller one stumbles over his words while the one with the club in hand keeps his cool. "Silence, resident! State your name, time of entrance, and list of marked acquaintances."

"Oh? Taking inventory on the women now, as well? You are aware that the New Mark is always male?" When the Crewmen don't answer, she tosses up her hands in frustration and replies, "Janie Saunders, entered too many years ago to count, and as for marked acquaintances... Ahem!" She points with her eyes to the man whose hand is lightly touching the small of her back.

The Crewman isn't amused. "For a woman who can't remember the length of time she's spent in this world, I find it hard to believe this half-mark is the only one you know."

The other stifles a laugh.

Janie shuts her eyes, nearly shaking as the blood beneath her cheeks boils. "Do not call him that. He may not be one of the Queen's pets, like yourself, but you should still respect him as an original Mark. Have you any idea what this man has —"

"Janie, dear." Nick catches hold of her shoulder just as she bends her knees to lunge at the man. "You're wrinkling poor Margo's birthday present." The sound of her name causes Margo to whimper again, cowering away from the scene. The quiet plea reaches Cameron, and he instinctively takes a couple steps toward her.

A fist suddenly grabs a handful of his shirt, the other aims for his jaw. Margo sees it coming before it can happen — the coming pain, the blood spilling down his chin — but the reaction this man elicits catches her blindly. A lurching feeling bubbles within her, the nausea and tingling swirling her head, warping reality. Her focus blurs and brightens, the world around her blending into a mass of white like a photograph fading away after being left in sunlight for too long.

The fist is flying toward his face, but all Margo can do is work through whatever sort of episode she is having.

A hand reaches to her head, wrapping fingers through her hair and pulling till taut. She gags, fighting back bile. The fingers pull tighter as the tingling sensation overpowers her. It is coming, she can sense something unknown at its peak. An explosion. The brightness is coming to a close. The last bit of turquoise sky fades. One final peek at the dusty streets and everything is white.

Boorish laughter erupts. "Half-mark!" the man barks, followed by more laughing.

The white overlay disappears quickly, and Margo finds herself entangled in bounds of fabric still kneeling in front of Cameron's house.

The man tosses an unharmed Cameron aside and marches over to where Nick stands with his marked hand outstretched in front of him as if he is planning to attack. "You're an embarrassment to all Marks," he spits in Nick's face. "Why can't you just die already? Let's go." He signals for the other, who begrudgingly kicks over the pile of firewood kept out front.

Once they are well down the road and out of sight, Cameron grabs Margo's wrist and carefully untangles her fingers from her hair. "Margo," he whispers. "I need you to carefully stand up and get inside. Quickly."

She doesn't understand the urgency in his tone, or how her own hands were the one grasping her hair. At least her sudden panic attack has passed. He pulls her to her feet and cautiously guides her over to the sofa. Nick and Janie enter the room silently, shutting the door behind them.

"My dear, are you alright?" Nick puts a hand to Margo's cheek.

"Great. Guess I'm not adjusting to Jamyrian stew as well as I'd thought." She smiles weakly, placing a hand over her stomach. "And sorry to admit, this Mark may be more of a coward than expected."

The three of them stare down at her in silence, Janie with trembling fingers placed upon her lips.

"But don't worry," Margo continues. "I'm not going to chicken out or anything. I will find a way to get us out of here."

"That was too close," Cameron whispers.
"Can you imagine what they would have done? I've only heard the rumors of the previous Mark's death, and it was not pretty." Janie shakes.

"What are you talking about?" Margo demands.

Cameron crosses the room and sits next to her. He takes her hands in his. "You nearly lost control of your power."

She blinks back in confusion.

"Luckily those two dimwits didn't notice, thanks to Nick's diversion," explains Cameron. Nick winks in the background. "Your marks were glowing under that tablecloth and everything."

"Strong emotions can trigger your power, my dear," Nick repeats his lesson.

"But that can't be right. I just felt a little lightheaded." Margo pulls the cloth tighter around her shoulders, its fibers scratching her skin. "And a little...scared."

"Scared enough to lose it, it would seem." Nick sets a vase back in its upright position on a shelf, as if tidying the one item could right all of the others. "Perhaps she isn't quite ready...." he muses.

Margo starts to protest, but Janie's trilling voice cuts her off. "Now you want her to stay in the Central City, Nick Thomas? Now that the Queen's Crew have arrived? They'll be back to sweep the town again and you know it."

"And so the tables have turned," he mumbles, flitting the spine of a book he'd just replaced. "Continue with the plan. But we'll wait a couple of hours so not to draw suspicion. And, Margo, are you certain you're alright?"

"Tired." She leans back against the sofa. No one protests or speaks another word. It is too much to wrap her head around having seen firsthand the cruel men the Queen employs, and the doubt is beginning to build within her again. She hoped she'd simply be able to outwit her somehow, but if strength and nerves are to be involved, well then she is pretty much already dead.