Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)

“Forget it,” he said, his voice holding an edge. “But why are they chasing you?”

“I broke into a house to get some clothes.”

“And that outfit was the best you could come up with? Lady, you make a pretty poor thief.”

“It wasn’t as if I had a whole lot of choice,” I muttered. “And what would you know about thieving, anyway?”

“A whole lot more than you, apparently.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror and swore softly. I twisted around. The cop had the radio to his mouth. He was either calling in the troops or calling in the registration. Either way, too much heat would soon be swarming around my hard-won ride.

“Look, I don’t want to get you into trouble—”

“Well, good, because I can manage that quite well by myself.”

“If you’d just drop me off at the nearest town—”

“And you’ll what?” He glanced at me briefly. “You appear to have no clothes, no money, not even shoes, for God’s sake. Besides, you’re not the only thief in the car.”

I raised my eyebrows, not entirely sure whether he was being serious or not. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at the mirror again and his expression grew grimmer. I took another look behind us. The cop was climbing into a squad car—obviously, that’s what he’d been calling. The stranger’s car seemed to leap forward, the engine a howl that filled the interior with ear-splitting noise. Either he really was a madman, or he was speaking the truth about being a thief.

“You’re not the man who’s been breaking into various houses around these parts, are you?”

He snorted softly. “No.” He glanced briefly at the rearview. “Where’s Egan, Destiny?”

Shock rolled through me and, for a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Destiny. It felt right, that name, felt comfortable.

Question was, how did he know it? Had I stepped into an even worse situation than being chased by the cops? God, was he one of the hunters?

I licked my lips, and repeated, “Elsewhere.”

“Where? Damn it, tell me where my brother is!”

“Why should I?” The retort came out before I could really think about it, but I was growing more and more convinced that I’d made the biggest mistake yet by getting into this car. “How do I know you’re really even his brother?”

“I haven’t exactly got time right now to stop and show you my credentials,” he said coldly.

“Well, until you do, you get

nothing from me.” I crossed my arms and stared out the windshield. The trees were zipping past way too fast, making my stomach feel queasy. Looking at him seemed a better option. “How did you even know he was back in the country?” And how did he know we’d be here? That was just too weird a coincidence, and another reason to be wary.

“He contacted me last night.”

He had? How, when he’d died last night? “Why did he contact you?”

His gaze met mine. The cold depths were assessing. Distrusting. “We were supposed to meet in Florence. So what happened?”

“Florence? Where the hell is that?”

“Oregon.”

So I was in Oregon? God, that was a country away from Maine. And if I needed to get there so urgently, why would I have even agreed to come here?

And how did he know about me? Even if he had somehow talked to Egan before he’d died, I doubted Egan would have told him much about me. We were both too aware of the need for secrecy.