Destiny Calling (10 page)

“I’m sorry, I’m going.” I started toward the door, the deafening noise from the jukebox and the crowd poured in. “It’s Hope.”

“What? Let’s hope? I’d say you’d better do darn more than hope. You better get your butt out there and get to work.” Chief opened the cupboard beneath the island and pulled out a bottle. He threw back a shot of the booze and then wiped his mouth with the arm of his flannel shirt.

Great, I worked with two people that were practically deaf, which is probably the result of working in this noisy atmosphere for so long. “I said my name is Hope.”

Chief paused to scrutinize me. “Hope? Yeah, whatever.” He rubbed his chin as he took in my jeans and blouse. “You should’ve worn a tighter, lower-cut shirt if you wanted more tips.”

Ruthie loaded the fryer and the smell of grease filled the air. “There’re about two women in here a week, and they’re usually Mrs. Shaw and me. As long as Hope ain’t got a dong hanging down there, she’s sure to get whatever tips are due her.”

Chief nodded. “Guess you’re right.” He headed down the hall toward his office, muttering all the way. “Dong? What the hell’s this world coming to? Heard about some of those kinda fellas living in the city. Sure as hell ain’t none of them living in these parts. Some short-shorts would’ve been nice. Don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

I peeked out the door to the bar area. It was filled to capacity, which wasn’t saying much for the small area, but it was a lot for someone like me who considered three a crowd. “Doesn’t Chief have any bouncers working here?”

“Don’t need ’em. If there’s trouble, Chief handles it. They listen to him.”

“Why would they?” I struggled to think of a tactful way to put it and gave up. “He’s old and fairly decrepit, and I’m sure most of these guys could take him out with one hand tied behind their backs.”

Ruthie paused in her cooking. “You sure don’t know much about bartending, do you?” She eyed me with sympathy. “Size doesn’t matter.” She cackled at her joke. “What I’m saying is that there’s nothing more powerful than knowledge. Who knows more than the bartender? Your bartender gets the secrets you won’t even share with your hairdresser.” She winked, then turned back to the fryer.

I stepped into the bar area and tried to focus through the cloud of smoke. The lyrics from an old song, though not as old as the ones Ruthie had been reminiscing about, blared about going on a highway to hell. I squinted as I tried to see if any of the men packed in the bar were surrounded by the odd haze or black fog. Grunts and yells permeated my concentration and were increasing in volume over the music.

They were directed at me. All of the men at the bar were staring at me, and for once, it wasn’t for my
hope
dispensing abilities. It was for my beer dispensing ones.

“I need a beer, woman,” was yelled from multiple directions.

I rushed over to the tap and grabbed a glass from under the counter, tilted it to decrease the head of foam, and filled up beers as fast as I could. Turning for another glass, I almost ran right into Griffith. “What are you doing?”

“You looked like you could use a little help.” He lined up glasses and deftly mixed up four vodka martinis. He took a can of olives from the cupboard and opened the lid with the hand-held can opener while raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“Show off,” I said with a smirk. “Chief might not like you being behind the bar.”

“He won’t mind,” Griffith said with confidence.

Watching him mix the drinks, without even looking at the glasses had me wondering if he might start juggling bottles, any minute. I didn’t know if I cared if Griffith being back here bothered Chief, because I
could
use the help.

“Why, doesn’t he have any secrets on you?” I set the beer down that I’d filled.

“We all have our secrets.” He stared at me until I looked away. “But we can’t let them define us.”

I squirmed under his scrutiny. “I don’t know if he’s going to pay you.”

“Can’t I do something nice?”

It was hard to tell if he was being nice, when his expression never wavered. “I wasn’t saying—”

“Do you want the help or not?” Griffith said.

“Yes.”

Griffith smiled. It didn’t last, but lingered long enough to dazzle me with its brilliance. It was the smile I remembered from my dreams, the one I thought of in the morning and as I went to sleep at night. “You should smile more often.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, not my style.”

“How can smiling or not smiling be part of anyone’s style?” I’d intended to observe how Griffith mixed the drinks, to learn how to prepare a few of them, but couldn’t keep my eyes off him.

“I don’t want to ruin anyone’s expectations of me,” he said, with a hint of sarcasm. “Dangerous guys don’t smile.”

“I don’t know that you’re so dangerous,” I said, because I wanted him to assure me he wasn’t. But the truth was, I knew different. The truth, as well as dangerous guys, could hurt you.

“I hope you never find out any different.” He turned and carried the drinks down the bar.

I let out a breath and kept my mouth shut. Saying what I thought without thinking first had gotten me into trouble more than once.

The hours flew by. I barely had time to meet anyone’s eye longer than it took to determine what their beverage of choice was, let alone determine if they were the epitome of evil. As the evening wore on, the temptation to take a slug of one of the many tequila shots I’d poured nagged at me, especially knowing I had Chief’s blessing to take a nip now and then.

But I needed my head clear to keep up this pace. Even Ruthie came out to help when the orders were caught up in the kitchen.

Finally, the pace slowed, and the crowd thinned out. I could make out individual faces rather than a mass of testosterone demanding alcohol.

Griffith was still there. I hadn’t had more than a minute to say another word to him. When the pace slowed, he returned to the other side of the bar and let me finish on my own.

I waited until he appeared engrossed in conversation and didn’t notice me looking at him to study him. I squinted my eyes and surveyed the air around him. It was somewhat hazy, almost iridescent. When the man he was talking to moved, a huge black, cloud waxed and waned around him. Drake.

The man, Griffith’s brother or whatever he was, pushed back a streaked lock of hair.

Drake whipped his head around toward me as if he detected my interest, and smiled.

I’d never seen anything more frightening.

A forked tongue darted out over thin, snake-like lips then disappeared into his mouth. I hadn’t realized I was backing up until I rammed into the counter. Reaching behind my hip to steady myself, I turned my back to the bar, grabbed a rag, and began wiping the counter, concentrating on the menial task to calm my racing heart.

“If she doesn’t choose, you’ll have to kill her. It’s what you’re assigned to do,” Drake said to Griffith.

Catching Drake’s eye, I noted how the corner of his lip rose in a sick smile. He’d raised his voice so I could hear his conversation with Griffith. I turned back to the counter, but couldn’t hear Griffith’s response over the noise.

Drake continued. “Your time is running out, my brother. She won’t tolerate your defiance like the last time. She can sense your restlessness and wants to rein you in.”

Drake reached for Griffith, but he pulled back before Drake could touch him. “I can’t protect you this time. You take care of them, or we will. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to make up your mind. You have no mind, merely Hecate’s will. You’ll be pushed aside, and I will make our father—”

“I’ve never desired to please him as you have,” Griffith said. “Besides, he’s dead.”

“No matter, at least I still desire to make our Queen proud. Don’t let your pathetic human conscience make you weak. Remember, it isn’t murder if they do it to themselves.”

The glass I’d been drying fell and shattered on the floor. I hunkered down to clean up the shards, grateful to be out of earshot of the conversation. Murder? Was he talking about me? Was that why Griffith kept coming around? With shaking hands, I picked up the large pieces of glass, put them in the towel, and stood to get the broom.

“Hope.”

I pulled my shoulders in and felt as if I’d taken a blow to the stomach. The noise of the bar diminished until all I could hear was the quiet of my mind and Drake’s voice. Even without turning, I knew it was him.

“
Come here, you pretty little thing. Mmmm, so tasty. I love the gingers. Why would you try to cover it up? So fiery, they taste the best.”

Clutching the rag in my hand, I concentrated on my knuckles whitening from my grip.

“I know you can hear me.”

His voice permeated my mind like thick oil running over my brain. I felt violated, dirty, as his voice slithered through my head like hundreds of tiny centipedes coursing through, knowing my every thought.

I dropped the rag to clutch my head, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could force Drake out. Laughter roared through my brain, and I ground my teeth, then spun around to face him. He was staring right at me, as I knew he would be.

Though he wore a smirk, his lips never moved. “
I wanna play”
reverberated through my mind.

Chapter Eight

“No.” I braced my hands behind me on the counter and stared at Drake.

Griffith raised his beer bottle to his lips and paused, looking from me to Drake and back again.

Drake’s eyes were locked on me. His presence loomed in my mind, despite my resistance. The noise from the bar seemed far away, as if I were under water and the only clear voice was his. Out of the corner of my eye, Griffith’s lips moved, as he tried to gain Drake’s attention, but I couldn’t hear what he said and Drake ignored him. Drake’s focus never wavering from the invasion of my mind.

“Come on over to the dark side, Red. It’s more fun here. What good has being good done for you? Giving you pain all the time. We can give you pleasure and the power you desire. That you deserve. You could be the princess to our Queen.”

Griffith shoved his elbow into Drake’s side, knocking him off his perch on the barstool. As soon as Drake looked away, his presence retracted from my mind, like the last of the water rushing down the drain. The roar of the bar noise filled my ears, and I stumbled, cradling my head in my hands.

“Another day, Red.” Drake kissed his palm and blew it my way, his tongue snaking out as he did so. “I’ll find someone else to play with for now.” He winked as he sauntered away, stopping beside Bob, who looked one drink short of passing out.

“Hope.” From Griffith’s expression, he must’ve been calling me. I shook my head and retreated to the kitchen.

“Ruthie, I can’t do this.” I wrapped my arms around my waist but couldn’t stop shaking. Drake’s violation of my mind had exhausted me, leaving me feeling more violated than having the hope sapped out of me.

Ruthie scrubbed at a pan, up to her elbows in a sink full of soapy water. “It’s nothing. Just keep serving them their booze. Heck, by this hour they won’t notice what you give them. It’ll be closing time soon, anyway.” She stared off with a faraway expression I’d come to associate with one of her rambling stories coming on.

“I remember this one time, old Joe, well, he’s long gone now.” Ruthie raised her hand to the ceiling, as if in a toast, soapsuds running down her arm. “He was as regular here as great-great-grandma Hilda and her stewed prunes.” She chuckled. “Reckon I can’t say there was a day I worked Joe wasn’t here. Well, it turns out one Friday I realized Chief hadn’t filled the stock.” She put a finger to her chin, giving herself a soapy goatee. “Not sure if he forgot to add it on the sheet, or if they didn’t fill the order right, but anyways I was plum out of whiskey. I knew Joe wouldn’t take that too well.”

I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming. “I’m not talking about the job.”

She turned, her eyes widening as they raked over me. “Land’s sake, child.” She reached for me, but I took a step back, fearful her touch would push me over the edge and I’d totally fall apart. Ruthie’s face fell at the rebuke. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other stuff. This isn’t what I came here for.”

Ruthie studied the glistening countertop. “What
did
you come for, then?”

“I…” Tessa’s letter had given me the reason to start the journey that had led me here. I would’ve left in time anyway. I’d been ready to move on even before she died. Saying I’d come to find out about my mother sounded petty when Ruthie seemed to think I was capable of more. Ruthie knew something, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “I came here to fix me.”

“Maybe you don’t need fixing.” Ruthie wiped the counter.

“Yes. I do.” I nodded. “All I am is a tool. Do you know what it’s like when someone saps the very being out of you, stealing it to use like a drug? No, you wouldn’t, would you? Well, let me tell you then. It’s like being mind raped. They touch you, and a hunger fills their eyes, latching onto you like you’re their last meal, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

Ruthie studied me with that pitiful look I’d come to detest. “Have you ever thought you could give it willingly? The fight you’re having is inside of you. Maybe you can fix yourself. By voluntarily helping others
you
can help yourself?”

“Maybe I don’t want to help.” I sagged and averted my gaze. I’d already shared more with her than I ever had with Tessa.

Ruthie continued cleaning, and her lips puckered with the additional advice she held in.

There hadn’t been many people who’d had much confidence in me. Even I didn’t have confidence in me. Laying my hand on top of hers, so she’d stop her unnecessary wiping and meet my eyes, I said, “That one guy out there, Drake. He’s one of them.”

Ruthie nodded. “Oh yeah, even I can see that. I’d keep my distance if I were you, until you’re better trained, so he doesn’t notice you too much.”

“It’s too late, he’s more than noticed me. He invaded my head.” I cringed, the feeling of violation returning as I said it. I needed a shower, or a long Q-tip to get his residue out of my skull.