Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)

Did that give me the right to idly stand by and watch a man fall from a cliff when I could have easily saved him? Probably not.

But I still couldn’t get worked up about it. And if that made me a bad person, then so be it. I could live with that.

One of the plastic bags slapped heavily against my shin, and I tripped, going down hard, my knees hitting a rock and sending a shock of pain that reverberated right up to my brain. I cursed softly and sat there for a moment, catching my breath and trying to stop the instinctive need to get up and keep running.

I couldn’t afford to panic. Besides, what would it gain me other than more damn bruises?

I pushed to my feet and hobbled along the faint path. Eventually, the pain in my knees subsided. I found the fence and followed it to the left, finding the trees and the car. It was locked, so I deposited the bags and the laptop near the trunk, then shook my hands to get the blood circulating through my fingers as my gaze swept the night.

No sign of Trae.

No indication that anything or anyone was moving through the night.

I bit my lip and shifted my weight from one foot to the other, fighting the instinct—no, the need—to go back out there and see if he needed help.

But he was right when he’d said earlier that they weren’t looking for him. If I went out there, it would only make things worse.

Although my would-be captor had screamed as he’d fallen. Would the wind have snatched the sound away, or would those who’d come with him have heard it?

I didn’t know, and it was as frustrating as ever.

Needing to do something, I walked to the edge of the trees. This area near the cliff was higher than the house, so it provided a good vantage point from which to view the surrounds. There was no one moving down there. No dark shadow of a car. Nothing to indicate there was another soul breathing in the night besides me.

Yet that man hadn’t come from thin air. And he surely wouldn’t be alone. They never were. There was always one who hung back, armed and ready to take action if needed. . . .

Goose bumps ran across my skin and the hairs along the back of my neck stood on end. I swung around, saw a broad chest covered in a brown sweatshirt, then he was on me, grabbing me, his arm locking around my throat as he tried to raise a stinking white rag to my nose and mouth.

I twisted in his grip and bit his arm as hard as I could. The chloroform-soaked rag hit my neck and shoulder instead of my face, and instantly my skin began to burn. Pain surged, and a scream ripped up my throat. But I used the energy of that pain to bite harder, and my teeth drew blood, even through the material. My attacker hissed, but didn’t release me, so I stomped down on his toes.

He cursed and pushed me away. I staggered several steps before I caught my balance, then pivoted on one foot, my heel smashing him in the face as he lunged toward me. He went down hard and didn’t move.

I left him lying there and ran across to the trunk of the car, upending the plastic bags until I found the bottles of water. After untwisting the cap, I leaned forward and tipped the contents over my neck and shoulder, trying to stop the burning, trying to wash the foul stuff from my clothes. It took three bottles to ease the burning and a fourth before I felt totally safe.

“Jesus, Destiny, are you all right?”

The voice came out of the night, scaring the shit out of me. I jumped around, fist raised before I fully realized it was Trae, not another attacker.

He stopped abruptly and held up his hands. “Whoa. It’s me. You’re safe.”

“Sorry.” I lowered my hand with a grimace. “But those bastards have a habit of sneaking up on me.”

“Next time I’ll whistle ‘Dixie’ before I get within punching distance.” He glanced at the man on the ground, then back at me. “What happened to your neck?”

“They tried to chloroform me.” I grabbed another bottle but this time drank it. My mouth felt drier than the Sahara, and I very much suspected the cause was fear rather than a result of exertion.

But it wasn’t fear for myself. It was fear for my mom, fear for my dad. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill all the promises I’d made.

That in the end, I’d have to sacrifice one promise over another, one parent for the other. I needed to get the codes that would free my mom and the kids, but would the cost be not getting to Maine in time to see my dad and say good-bye? To tell him the love of his life was alive, and that she’d meet him on the forever plains? He had to know that before he died. Had to. Otherwise, when his soul answered the call of dawn’s rising, he’d be fated to haunt this reality, forever trying to ease the ache of his heart.

It was the way of his kind.

The way of my mother’s kind—even if the ceremonies prayed for the guidance of very different Gods.

I briefly closed my eyes against the sudden prickle of tears. I could do this. I just had to keep trying, keep believing.

“Chloroform?” Trae stepped closer and, with gentle fingers, brushed wet strands of hair away from my neck. “That looks more like an acid burn.”

“Chloroform does that to sea dragons. We’re hyper-sensitive to it.”