Destiny Calls (10 page)

Cain’s heart constricted. “And what does this mean?” He held up his palm and folded down his middle and ring finger.

His sister looked at him, emotion straining her voice and answered, “It means ‘I love you.’”

Cain’s eyes were suddenly irritated. He looked back at Cybil and held up his hand, two fingers folded down. “I love you, too, munchkin.”

He sat quietly through the rest of her lesson and tried to pick up on as many expressions as possible. It seemed Cybil was quite fluent. As was his sister. When the lesson was over, Cybil left to return to his grandparents’ house and Grace began to ready items for supper.

“Will you be supping with us, Cain?”

He looked up from the sign language book. “Yes. Can I borrow this?” he asked, motioning to the book.

For the first time since he’d arrived, his sister smiled at him. “I think that would be nice.” Then as if she couldn’t bear to be too kind to him she added, “For some reason I cannot fathom, the child adores you. Sometimes she has bad dreams and comes looking for you. I often find her sleeping in your bed in the morning. Perhaps you can put your little escapades aside for a while and be near for her.”

“I was not off on a ‘little escapade.’ I was hunting our rogue uncle. Regardless, I don’t plan on leaving for some time. I won’t do anything until Anna has the babe.”

She nodded sharply. Gracie seemed changed in some way. She and Cain had always bantered and bickered like children, but recently she was…less lighthearted. It was as if some great burden or worry had been placed upon her. He was just about to ask her if everything was all right when she said, “By the way, toad, the bishop is here, and he knows about Destiny.”

Cain tensed. That was not great news.

* * * *

Cain entered his room and found Destiny sitting on his bed looking confused.

“Problem?”

She looked up at him and he felt her relief. “Thank God you’re back. I need to get out of here.”

“That’s not going to happen quite yet. I need to have the bishop talk to you,” he said, seating himself on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, about that, I don’t really need to talk to the bishop, and I’m not really sure why you brought me here, but the nun thing’s starting to freak me out, especially after what I saw a while ago.”

What was she talking about? “What did you see?”

She leaned forward and whispered, “The bishop and one of the nuns are getting it on.”

“Getting it on?”

“Yeah, you know, doing it.”

“Who is the nun in this scenario?”

“Sister Larissa,” she said.

He tried not to laugh. “Oh my, we had better inform the elders.”

“Well, don’t tell them I told you. That bishop’s scary.”

“What did the bishop say to you?”

“Nothing. He seemed angry I was here, but then he started kissing the nun and told me I couldn’t get off the bed until he returned.”

Cain shut his eyes and counted to ten. “
Can
you get off the bed?”

“Of course I can,” she answered as if questioning such a thing was ludicrous.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I…I don’t want to get off the bed.”

He sighed. “That’s what I figured.” He stood and went to the door. “
Larissa!
Get down here and bring your bishop!” he shouted.

“Don’t call them!” she snapped.

He ignored her and waited. The door to the room suddenly slammed on its own, almost taking off his fingers, and he snickered. Seemed the bishop heard him.

“Look, I don’t know why you brought me here, but I really need to get to a phone.”

He sighed. “Stop talking.”

“Uh, no. I need to call my brother.”

“Why are you impossible to control?” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She scoffed. “I’m out of here.”

He waited as she approached the edge of the bed and nibbled her lip in concentration as if considering her next move.

“Problem?”

“I…” She huffed and groaned irritably. “What the hell is going on? Why can’t I get off the bed? It’s like my mind refuses to even consider such a thing.”

“Just relax. You won’t be able to go anywhere until the bishop releases you.”

“Releases me? What’s that supposed to mean?” He ignored her and flipped through the sign language book. “What’s that?”

“A book. It’s what people used before television.”

“I know what a book is. I read all the time. What kind of book?”

“A sign language book.”

“Are you in college?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“I’m a reporter. I’m good at it.”

“Then why are you here rather than out somewhere shoving your microphone in someone’s face?”

When she didn’t answer, he looked up from the book. He offended her, and for some reason that bothered him. He liked when she fought back. “Destiny, I didn’t—”

The door suddenly burst open, cutting his apology short, as Bishop King’s form filled the doorway. Destiny jumped, and Cain found pleasure in the fact that she leaned into him as if for protection.

“This had better be good,” the bishop growled.

“Bishop King. I trust you’re enjoying your day.”

“I
was
. What do you want?”

“My guest here would like to get down from the bed.”

“That’s fine, so long as she gets down, walks out that door, off this farm, and never returns.”

“Yes, well, about that—”

Eleazar held up his hand. “Stop. I will not even allow you to finish that statement. I’ve made allowances for the last two strays you brought home, but with her I draw the line.”

“Stray?” Destiny bristled, and Cain placed a calming hand on her thigh and felt a jolt of awareness.

“I understand she cannot stay,” Cain amended. “But you are missing the issue. Ms. Santos here had a run-in in the woods with a friend of ours, and I seem to be having trouble…
correcting
the facts for her and I would hate for her to return to the English telling tall tales.”

“Isaiah?”

“Yes. I saw him. He has the strength of ten males, by the way.”

“You had an altercation with him?”

“I did, as did Destiny. However, she didn’t fare as well as I, I’m afraid.”

“I find your standard of faring well, questionable. I was here when Annalise was hurt.”

“Ah, well,” Cain bobbed his head as if the memory were tedious. “The majority of that was not from Isaiah. It was from the arrow Destiny shot me with.”

“Arrow?” The bishop scowled at her.

She frowned back in confusion. “Who’s Isaiah?”

“Don’t strain yourself, sweet. Men are talking,” Cain said, tapping her leg.

She groaned and snatched her warm thigh out from under his hand. “Look, Bishop, I need a phone. My brother’s probably worried sick and I’m still not sure if there’s a dead man in the woods.”

“Stop talking,” the bishop mumbled, and Destiny immediately fell silent. She tried to make a sound and her expression rapidly became uneasy when she couldn’t produce one.

“Not very nice, Bishop,” Cain reprimanded, and the bishop pinched the bridge of
his
nose. Destiny snatched the book out of his hand and began flipping through it. He turned back to the bishop. “I don’t believe it will be much of a problem to get us on our way since you appear to have no problem taking hold of her abilities. I on the other hand hit a wall every time.”

“And to think, you, Cain Hartzler, have found the modesty to admit that even a male with your mastery has shortcomings.”

Just then the door opened, and Larissa stepped in. Her cheeks were red and her clothing looked rumpled. Cain made a nauseated expression as his sister smiled adoringly up at the bishop. When her gaze landed on Destiny, her grin faded. “What’s going on in here?”

Destiny slammed down the book and formed a half circle with her right hand and tapped it over her heart. They all frowned at her.

“What is she doing?” Larissa asked.

Cain leaned forward and turned the book then looked back at Destiny. “She wants us to call the police.” He sighed and gave her back the book then in a raised voice said, “No. Police.”

“Why is she signing?” Larissa asked, still confused.

“That would be your husband’s doing.”

He openly showed his pleasure when Larissa turned on the bishop and snapped, “Eleazar, you stop that right now!”

He sighed, and suddenly Destiny gasped. She flew off the bed, her motions frantic. “You’re all crazy! What the fuck?” She then backed into a corner, speaking rapidly in a language he couldn’t understand.

Suddenly Bishop King said in a soothing voice, “
Mulher calma.”
Destiny grew quiet, her movements suddenly serene. The bishop spoke in foreign tongues, and Destiny’s eyes glazed over. She nodded and carefully walked over to the side of the room and retrieved her boots. She returned to the bed where she wedged the ugly things on her feet. The bishop nodded when he was finished.

“What was all that?” Cain asked.

“She thinks in Portuguese. That’s likely why you couldn’t control her. I told her you were an officer of the law and you are going to escort her back to her home. I explained she has suffered a nasty fall in the woods and one of our men found her and brought her here where she was nursed back to health. She will go with you now, and I’ve told her she will do as you ask without argument. She won’t recall much from the journey home.”

“You expect me to take her home?”

“You brought her here.”

“Yes, but…I just got here.”

“Not my issue, Cain. Now, if you will excuse me. I was rather rudely interrupted from some business earlier, and I must get back to some pressing matters. Larissa.”

Cain gritted his teeth as his sister obediently followed her arrogant husband out of the room. He turned to Destiny as she blushed and batted her big brown eyes at him. He leaned forward and massaged his forehead. “Let’s go.”

She looked up at him with a completely unguarded expression and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter 8

It always started out nice. With such close proximity, his struggle to remain calm was palpable. He was biding his time, and his patience cost him dearly, yet he held on as long as he could.

She looked at her hands. They weren’t the hands of an eleven-year-old. There was no dirt under her fingernails and no telltale jagged edges from biting them. These were the fingers of an adult woman, smooth, manicured, a little bit long.

Cybil felt him watching her. A potent discomfort was always present with the weight of his stare. It was awkward, like a slippery animal she wasn’t sure how to hold. Something deep within her told her to not let go, but something else warned her to not get too close. A part of her recognized his attention as something she craved, but her inexperience with such things made her timid and unable to ask him to go.

He never approached her, never touched. It was as if he recognized something delicate inside of her that needed to mature. His distance was a favor. He didn’t wish her harm. He was careful not to intentionally frighten her. She was certain he placed her above himself, yet he had never told her such things.

The longer he stared at her the more the colors of the dream faded. Sunny days turned to murky backdrops of dark nights and moonless skies. They were always alone when the color faded away, and that was when she was most frightened.

Her body was unrecognizable, just like her hands. Her limbs had stretched and her hair no longer held that baby-fine quality. She had developed and changed, yet she was still herself, still just a little girl screaming in the silence of her mind, trapped in a foreign body, but alone all the same.

Cybil squeezed her eyes as the images came at her. He was no longer there in body. Only glimpses of things she didn’t understand flashed into her psyche as if he were trying to show her a future she wasn’t ready to see.

Her head thrashed on her pillow. Blood. Teeth. Sharp fangs and flesh. And those glowing eyes. The older image of her gave way to things Cybil objected to. Ugly things she didn’t want to know, yet her older self craved.

He hushed her, and the dream fell away. He wanted to come closer, comfort her, but somehow knew that would only frighten her more. Blackness took over, yet she knew it was not finished.

He was near. Her breath beat at the space around her and echoed in her ears. Then he said those same words he always said to her, “When you recognize what I am to you, you will say my name.”

Cybil sat up in bed and let out a silent gasp. Her eyes darted to every corner of her dark room. Her heart raced, and her small, undeveloped chest expanded with her panting breaths as she reminded herself not to scream.