A Destined Death (15 page)

“Welcome to the joys of home ownership,” I growled before puttering to the garage.

I carried the hammer and five nails in one hand while dragging the ladder with the other. After pulling it open high enough to reach the shutter, I leaned it against the house. I had to fight to keep it upright in the wind but once my weight was on it, it stayed put, and I made it to the top before it started sprinkling. The first nail went in fine, and the second. They secured the flying disaster waiting to happen but when the third started to go in, I glanced at the window.

Draven stood inside. I could have reached out and touched him if the glass hadn’t been between us. The surprise made me lose my balance, and I started falling backward. In the quickness of the moment, I couldn’t tell if I still held onto the ladder or if I’d let go. All I did know was that I was falling––fast!

Suddenly, the world stopped around me. The wind stopped, the falling stopped, and I sat in my own bed. My heart thumped a hundred beats a minute. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t dead or lying mangled on the ground outside. I knew it wasn’t a dream because my skin still felt wet from the raindrops.

I wanted to run up to the attic to see if he was there…but I was so tired.

“Damn it!” Draven bellowed, being careful to hold his concentration that kept her asleep.

The thought of losing her again was almost more than he could bear and she was so fragile, so mortal. Tonight he’d stopped one accident that could have taken her life but how many times could he really outdo fate?

He swore she would
die looking into his eyes this time, knowing her death was upon her. She wouldn’t be slaughtered in some alley, stabbed in the chest by a mugger for the fifty dollars in her purse. No drunk, semi-truck driver would take her life instantly while she drove to her twentieth birthday party. No act of God would let a building crumble and crush out her last breath. Enough was enough! He had one last chance, and nothing would to keep him from killing her!

He was delaying again. He knew better. He’d saved her only to have his own stupid ethics ripping out his heart and tearing it in half. He had her right where he’d wanted her for decades, and again he fought against himself.

Pacing back and forth, he pounded the attic floor until it shook, and then he hurled a book across the room that hit the corner of the wall and left a dent. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

She was supposed to be dead already. He should have taken her that first night while he watched her sleep in the attic. That had been the plan. Why didn’t he just do it then?

He knew why. His problem had always been killing her. He’d put it off for too long each time because the thought of taking anything away from her was torturous.

He screamed in pain, and more objects flew across the attic. No! Like it or not, she had to accept him and accept her death before he could take her life.

Beyond that, her scent drove him mad. She was the most potent she’d ever been in all her lives. Vibrant, focused, beautiful, soft, and she looked so damn good naked. His body had been on fire that morning he saw her standing outside in the nude. Her soft, subtle breasts had seemed to be peaking just for him.

He sighed and then released his will over her, confident that she’d sleep through the rest of the night on her own. Again, he would watch her sleep, like a stalker in the night. His anger subsided when he reached her side. He knew it would. She’d always possessed a calming aura that soothed him whenever he was angry or upset. At dawn, he returned to the attic with one concluding thought: He had to kill her before fate did.

****

At dusk the next evening, he emerged from the attic and followed her sweet scent to the garage where she worked on putting the porch swing together. When her eyes found him, she tensed, and her heart beat quickened.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said, then resumed her work of tightening bolts into the wood. She looked down as if she wasn’t alarmed but her heartbeat didn’t slow.

“You’re welcome.” He leaned against the doorframe for her benefit, hoping to relax her.

“The house is beautiful too.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

She leaned her head back, making her silky, black hair fall across her back to reveal her neck. She didn’t appear to notice how sexy she looked in that position or how hard he was fighting to control himself. Her wide, green eyes held curiosity, and her pouty lips smiled without reason. “How do you know magic? Are you a wizard? Or a magician? A warlock?”

He laughed, the sound reminding him of his life with her former self. “No.”

She seemed surprised by his answer but her heartbeat finally slowed. “Hmm, a genie?” she asked, looking directly at him.

“No.”

Though her eyes pulled together with frustration, her voice remained soft and soothing. “Are you real?”

“I’m very real,” he assured her.

The frustration disintegrated after his answer. “Can you read everyone’s mind?”

“Only yours.”

The deep lines furrowed in her forehead again as though she were trying to figure out a riddle. “Why only mine?”

“We have a special bond, Elizabeth.”

“That I believe,” she said with a little laugh. “Can I talk to you wherever you are?”

“You always do.”

She nodded, her eyes softening when she looked up at him. “Do you want something from me?”

“Yes,” he said directly. He prepared himself for her reaction, whatever it might be. It was time to tell her.

Looking down, she grabbed another bolt for the swing. “And that is?”

“I’ve told you, you will die young, Elizabeth. Do you believe that?”

She considered his words for a moment before nodding. “Are you sure you’re not a guardian angel that’s supposed to take me to the next place? I saw that on TV once.”

Surprised by her conclusion, he frowned. “I’ve told you, I am no angel.”

Her eyes narrowed before they lightened. “Are you going to help me with this swing?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’m going to grab a soda first.” She rose and stopped in front of him on her way inside. “Do you want a drink?”

Licking his canine teeth, he stared at her neck.
Yes, he very much wanted a drink.
“No thank you.”

He stared at the swing, concentrating and focusing as it pulled itself together and then attached itself to the rafters above the porch.

She seemed only slightly surprised when she returned to the porch and sat down on the completed swing. “Nice. I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

He smirked.

“Thank you,” she said, setting her drink on the window ledge. “There’s room for you.”

He sat down beside her, noting her heart rate increasing by the second until she finally spoke. “So when is that supposed to happen?”

“Soon.”

She sucked in a breath. “But I haven’t…I haven’t had a chance to…I haven’t written my novel yet.”

“I told you to reconsider your plan, Elizabeth. You would have had more time. I thought I had made that clear.”

“But I didn’t believe you then!” She rose and paced the porch. Her heart raced and her eyes watered. “And all this time you’ve just been waiting around for me to die?”

“I have been waiting to offer you another option.”

She paused, her eyes piercing his. “What?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes, certain they would give him away. “Let me.”

“Let you what?”

“Let me…take your life.” He opened his eyes to her horrified expression.

Her thick silence lasted for an eternity while the crickets sang in the moonlight. No other noises sounded; even the coyote’s could sense her anger.

“You will die young regardless of how it happens,” he offered.

“You can’t know that!” she screamed.

“I do.”

 She stopped and ran her hands through her midnight hair, yanking it with aggravation. Then she put her hands on her hips. “GET OUT!”

He waited for her to blink.

****

Fate smiled blissfully when her informant arrived. She admired his bravery for accepting her proposition. Sweat rolled off his pale brow, and he stunk of guilt and several days travel. In his trembling hand, he held the item she desired.

“Give it to me,” she purred.

Frozen with fear and indecision, he didn’t move. She thought about killing him, sinking her fangs into his fresh-smelling neck, but decided his death might raise suspicion. He’d proved himself useful enough. Perhaps, he would again. 

She held out her hand, and the card jetted into it before she dismissed the rat.

“Elizabeth Tarkson,” she read. The name rolled off her tongue as she thought about creative ways to kill the woman this time.

I never wanted to blink again as long as I lived, which according to Draven, wouldn’t be that much longer. Confusion swirled through my head like a tornado. I wanted to hate him. I should have hated him, but his disappearing act tore at my soul. The sudden feeling of my world being ripped away from me was something I couldn’t get used to, and it didn’t help that his presence made my body pulse with an unreserved need. I’d finally realized how much I loved him when I’d seen him tonight, and that love was more real than anything I’d ever read about in any book. I saw love right in front of me, and I wanted to grab it, fast...

Then he ruined it.

How could he tell me he loved me, stalk me for years, and then ask me…

“Well, that definitely puts a damper on our relationship!” I spat.

I stormed inside and packed my soft backpack; a few changes of clothes, toiletries, several notebooks and pens. After dressing in a short, flirty red dress, I drove Hecate east over the border into Minnesota. I stopped at the first bar I saw. I’d never been drunk before but I felt more than ready for a first time.

The place was a dive. It irritated me a little that I didn’t even get to use the fake ID Brenda had gotten for me but I swallowed shot after shot, feeling the effects immediately. I wiped away the tears that fell without a thought. Even if the alcohol had intensified my feelings, I wasn’t capable of recognizing anything worse.

“You look blue.” The biker who leaned against the bar next to me smiled sympathetically. He was muscular, clean-shaven, and completely bald. Overall, not bad looking. His black leather jacket proudly displayed the Harley Davidson symbol in three spots. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yep,” I said with a smile. “Make it a shot.”

He ordered a shot of whiskey and then held out his hand. “My name’s Joe.”

“Hi, Joe. I’m Elizabeth.” When my shot came, I downed it and set the glass back on the counter with only the slightest sour face. My throat had already numbed.

Joe chuckled. “You better be carefully, little lady, you could get drunk drinkin’ like that.”