The Mark Of Cain Book Novels & Stories

he said, his voice filled with haste. "Come with me." I grabbed his hands as I quickly led him to the bedside. I retrieved the book from the bottom of the pillows, handing it over to him. "Cassian hid this book under his pillows. I'm sure you'll find a hint of what's going on now. I did read it, and I found out there were small cuts and cake dust on their corpses. Have an idea now?"

It had always been people. Lucien looked up sharply from the journal. "I found something." Every conversation in the room stopped. "What is it?" Rowan asked. Lucien flipped back several pages and pointed to a short paragraph. "This journal wasn't written as a history." "What was it?" Pearl asked. "A letter." He glanced around the room. "Written to someone." "Who?" Rosalie asked. Lucien read the first line aloud. *"If you carry the mark, these words belong to you."*

I move closer, drawn by something I don't understand, my fear momentarily eclipsed by fascination. The carvings are beautiful and terrible. Wolves with their heads thrown back in silent howls. Crescent moons in various phases, waxing and waning across the stone surface. Symbols I don't recognize but that make something deep in my chest tighten with recognition. How can I recognize something I've never seen before?

“There’s a guy over there, kinda beat up? I think he’s waiting for you.” Mark jerked his head around to look in the direction Alex indicated, and then he stared. Cain’s bruises were bolder now than they’d been the night before, and he was leaning against the pillar at the entry to the nave as if he needed its support to keep himself upright. But his eyes were clear, and they were staring straight at Mark. He didn’t look like a killer. He looked like a confused, battered young man, and he seemed to need something from Mark. For the first time, Mark didn’t feel the familiar wave of rage toward Cain. His emotions now were just as intense, but considerably more complex.

But pictures of odd creatures. As she stopped to look at them, her father did too. She moved closer to the first portrait. Her eyes scanned every piece of it. The dark, yet thin pelt of the wolf stood out. Their bright color amber golden eyes struck her to the core and she got eerily nervous. She then turned her attention to how the wolf was not really a wolf, but a humanized version of itself. It’s ears standing to point, as if pointing at the moon. The snot, much longer than normal wolves. The normal canines a wolf would have, these ones were elongated and sharp looking. And it’s claws, also long and sharp. Cordovia gulped lightly, truly hoping that creatures like this were not real. Her f

“It reacted when she touched it. Maybe it has answers.” Idris hesitated, then nodded. “It’s our best lead.” Lena’s fingers curled tighter around the book’s cover. She had barely processed the visions it had already shown her—flashes of a city lost to darkness, voices she didn’t recognize, a name she couldn’t quite grasp. And now, this mark. She took a deep breath. “Then let’s find out.” Carefully, she knelt on the cavern floor, placing the book before her. The moment her palm flattened against the cover, the air shifted.

“Not exactly. A bond between two will always exist. It was written by God into our DNA. But the Claiming… the Claiming is the ultimate acceptance of that. We aren’t denying what we are, ever again. We won’t look for anyone else. We’ll never betray. We’ll never turn our backs. That’s why I could only do it if you were really submitted to me—if you really meant it. You had to be in the same heart space as me. You had to trust me as much as I trusted you. Or maybe, it’s the other way around… I don’t know. I just know that… this is forever, Kelsie. And I don’t regret it. Not a bit.” “Me either.” I snuggled my face up under his jaw and clasped my hand around his neck, holding myself to him. Cain

“So,” Rowan said, sitting back on her heels, crouched in front of our little circle on the porch, “the book says that marks, or signs, like the one we’ve been seeing are Marks of the Underworld. Sort of like a supernatural clue for anyone smart – or lucky – enough to recognise it.”

he got up from the couch across his office and made his way to the inner room, beckoning on to Vanessa who followed behind silently. Cainan reached to the third layer of the Mahogany shelf and pulled out the hard-covered brown book. He handed it over to her and she took and glanced at it with an impressed look on her face. “You’re a man of your word. So did you read it?” “Honestly? I didn’t. But in my defence, I’m barely catching up with all my appointments as it is. A murderer would be impossible.” They both laughed hard, and she clutched down on her stomach.

A faint click sounded, followed by the slow grind of a concealed door sliding open. Inside was a safe—my own personal vault. It held only the things that mattered. Money, letters, secrets no one else would ever see. And the stolen book. I pulled it free, my hands steady despite the storm in my mind. The cover was worn, the edges frayed, but the power within had never faded. I flipped through the brittle pages, scanning the text with a sharp, desperate focus. Then I found it—The Mark of the Triarch. The inked script told a story as old as the first wars of our kind. Unlike the Mark of the Septarch, which granted sevenfold power, the Mark of the Triarch was lesser—but just as powerful. An awak