Destiny Gift (17 page)

I almost laughed, as if it didn’t hurt to be here and believe I was in the craziest vision ever.

“If you made us come here to tell us bats are after us, can I go home now?” Victor asked.

“If you want to die, be my guest,” Micah said, flinging a hand toward the road that led back to the highway.

“You make no sense,” Victor muttered, turning his back to us.

“Can’t you see something is going on here?” Micah asked, his voice strained. “I’ve been wandering Earth for the last four years, looking for people who could explain things to me, people who were like me. And I found you two. I couldn’t believe it when you healed me.” He stared into my eyes, so grateful and so hopeful, he took my breath away. “And then you.” He pointed at Victor, who turned to listen. “Your aura is comparable to mine, but it’s also different. I can’t explain. And you feel the pain and the dizziness like I do.”

Victor shrugged. “That doesn’t explain things.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Micah said. “But aren’t you wondering why we are the way we are?”

Wait. “You left,” I said, turning to Micah. “You said you had something to do abroad. What was it?”

“I followed the lead of a strong aura,” he confessed, regret and rage filling his features. “But it was a trap. Someone wanted me away from here. From you.” He stared at me, sending chills up my spine. Away from me? “I was attacked, but I managed to escape.”

“Attacked?” I advanced toward him, my hands rising to search him, to see if he was okay, but I caught myself before getting too near. I cleared my throat. “By whom?”

“I don’t know!” He raised his hands in exasperation. “I couldn’t get a good look at them, but one thing I do know—whatever it was, it didn’t feel human.”

“What?” A hysterical laugh was stifled in Victor’s question. “You’re kidding, right?”

“All right, Nadine.” Micah offered his hand. “Leave this damn skeptic behind and let’s try to save ourselves.”

Leave Victor behind? Even if he wasn’t exactly my Victor? I looked between them, my mouth open, words absent. “We can’t just leave him behind.”

“What if I want to be left behind?” Victor asked, his eyes raging.

“But—”

I didn’t need to continue. Putting his hands to his temple, he gritted his teeth as the enigmatic pain assaulted him. He started shaking and his breathing became erratic. He fell on his knees and lowered his head, gripping his chest like he could take the pain away with his hand.

But it wasn’t his touch that could take the pain away. It was
mine
.

I knelt beside him, my hands on his face. Instantly, warmth from my palms spread through his smooth skin, saving him from losing consciousness. Victor inhaled and his cheeks flushed; he stared at me, his eyes revealing the frustration that consumed him.

“You may find a way of surviving the bats and other creatures that might come for you,” Micah said. “But you won’t survive that.”

“He’s right,” I whispered, trying to put all my charm and hope into my eyes to move him into agreeing. “We don’t know what’s happening, but you need my touch. We should stay together until we find out more about it.”

Either my charm worked, or the relief from the pain was too attractive.

Victor nodded and stood up with me. “What now?” he asked, eyeing Micah.

“Now, I don’t know.” Micah shrugged. “We keep moving? I try to sense someone else like us?”

My stomach growled. “How about we eat something while we think,” I suggested, glancing at my wristwatch. It was almost three in the morning, and I had barely finished my snack the previous evening.

“I’m in,” he said, offering me his arm.

I felt the urge to glance at Victor, but instead, linked my arm with Micah’s, turning toward the diner.

There was a colorful neon sign in the window, advertising snacks and drinks, and listing prices. Each letter or number was a different color. There were two number eights among the listed prices, and it was a relief to see they were not glowing or sparkling or anything else weird.

“That’s new,” I said, frowning.

“What?” Micah asked, following my gaze and examining the sign.

“The eights aren’t shining,” I said. The fives were pink, the ones were blue, and the eights were lit by white neon light. “No more than the other numbers.”

Micah chuckled. “Of course they aren’t. The two eights are burned out.”

What?

The eights were shining after all.

We took a table near the window. Micah sat by my side, and Victor sat across the table from us. The waitress came soon after, and we ordered a mochaccino and a cinnamon roll for me, a Pepsi and a chocolate doughnut for Victor, and beer and French fries for Micah.

Victor turned to me. “What was that about the number eight?”

I sighed, considering if I should tell them. Well, I was up to my neck in things I didn’t understand. Telling them one more bizarre thing couldn’t hurt. “Since my visions started, every number eight I see shines. In magazines, painted on walls, in books, on shirts, wherever. It’s like they have a white backlight.”

“Do you know what it means?” Micah asked.

“I wish,” I muttered.

Victor tapped his fingers on the table. “Forget glowing numbers. We have to think about what to do. We can’t just wander around trying to find whoever can help us. If that’s the case, then I would rather go home until Micah senses someone. Or something.”

God, his pessimism and rudeness was starting to irritate me.

“Are you always this much of a naysayer?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Most of the time, I’m worse,” he snapped, leaning closer.

“All right, children,” Micah chided. “We do have to think about what to do. I’m certain we shouldn’t remain in one place for too long though. Together, our auras are intense flares for anyone who might be after us.”

Anyone? Besides the bats, who could be after us? Even so, I wanted to know why the bats were after us.

Their voices grew dim and the world around me swirled. I closed my eyes against the rushing dizziness and saw in my mind’s eye a large, beige-colored stone room. Multiple white flags popped out on top of stone pillars, lit candles spread throughout the perimeter, and an altar stood at the back, where a poster I couldn’t clearly see was on display. Descending the altar stairs, a blond man, about average height and dressed in white robes, appeared before me. From his pocket he pulled out a card. I looked closer. In his hand, he held the same card Micah had picked up from the drawer in my room.

“Nadine?” I heard Victor call me. “Are you okay?”

The vision faded and I returned back to the diner, panting. I frowned, confused at the worry in his tone.

“What did you see?” Micah asked.

I sighed. “I know who can help us.”

Chapter Eighteen

We left Micah’s bike with the owner of the gas station, chained to a thick column, much to his chagrin. Then, we drove for three hours to find a decent motel. I was thankful when we did because, inside the car, I almost died from the intensity of their scents, unable to decide which one tantalized me more.

The bedroom given to us had two full beds. I took one, Victor took the other, and Micah was able to get an old mattress from the receptionist to sleep on the floor.

Five hours later, the guys and I were up and inside an old department store, buying clothes and other necessary stuff for them, since they hadn’t brought anything. After loading up, we went back to driving and eating our snacks inside Victor’s car.

We were headed south on I-95, to Jacksonville, Florida. The business card indicated we would find Morgan Holt, whoever he was, there. Our plan was to drive until evening, stop to rest for a few hours, and keep going in the morning. If everything went as planned, we would arrive there by noon the following day.

The outside was scary. Even sort of protected inside the car, knowing that bats and everything else was out there made me feel like crawling into a corner and crying. It worsened whenever we passed a destroyed town or had to stop and find an alternative route because of broken roads or bridges.

I rode shotgun, while Micah was spread out on the backseat, whistling without rhythm with songs playing on the radio.

My mind was somewhere else. Where exactly, I wasn’t sure. Every time I closed my eyes, the events of the past days, months, flashed before me. I was tired of thinking about it. The more I thought about the occurrences, trying to reason them out, the more my head hurt.

Distracted with the dark and lifeless outside view, I began singing with the songs playing from the car’s stereo—mostly rock and alternative and only a few pop songs. I had sung about ten songs before I noticed Micah leaning toward the front, gawking at me.

“What?” I pulled my hands from the dashboard where I had been playing an imaginary piano without noticing. I flushed.

“I had no idea you could sing like that,” he said. The heat in my cheeks increased.

“Amazing, huh?” Victor said, glancing at me with a gentle smile tugging at his lips. Oh, my heart.

“It is,” Micah exclaimed. He did sound impressed. “Let me ask, why are you in the health program? You have the talent and the looks to succeed in showbiz.”

I frowned. Did he think I was beautiful? It wasn’t the first time he’d implied it.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

He offered me one of his trademark smiles before leaning back, relaxing on the backseat, and putting his clasped hands behind his head. “It’s a long trip. Humor us.”

I received a quick but reassuring sidelong glance from Victor. It was enough to make me talk. “I have to take care of my family. My father’s a farmer, my mom’s a teacher, and I have two brothers and one sister, all younger. Because of the agricultural crisis, life’s been tough.” My throat closed up and I swallowed.

In the rearview mirror, Micah caught my eye, then nodded.

“Before the other three were born, there was another boy. Because conditions were so bad, he … he died.” Tears brimmed in my eyes. But I wanted to go on. “Things got a little better after that, but I decided to follow a route that would give me enough money to help my family. By the time the oldest of my brothers leaves high school, I’ll be a doctor. I’ll be able to pay for his college tuition. And I want to provide an early retirement for my parents.”

“How are you paying for your tuition now?” Victor asked, eyes on the road.

“A discount due to need, and a scholarship because of my SAT scores. The rest I pay for from my salary.”

“I don’t understand.” Micah leaned forward again. “In showbiz, you can make much more than a doctor ever would.”

“That’s if I succeeded.” I turned sideways to look at him. “I can’t waste time and money trying. Nobody becomes a star and rich overnight. Besides, not everyone can be a classic, chic singer. I’m so not gonna walk on a stage wearing only a bikini and wiggle my butt for the camera like most pop singers do these days to get more fans. That’s not my style. But I’m fine. It was my option. I like medicine and I like helping others.”

“You say that now,” Micah said. “When you’re older and tired of hearing grandpas complain about bladder control problems and teenagers crying because of acute acne, you’ll regret your decision.”

His vision of my future brought some humor to the situation. I chuckled. “Sorry, but I won’t change my mind.”

Micah shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He lay down in the backseat, eyes closed.

Taking advantage of the silence, I glanced at Victor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked, suspicious.

Always on the defensive. “Just asking. Driving for too many hours might not be pleasant.” He smiled, but his eyes were still on the road. “If you need to stop to stretch your legs or grab a coffee to keep you awake, we won’t mind.”

“I mind,” Micah said from the backseat.

I turned to him. “Shut up. Nobody’s talking to you.” When I glanced back at Victor, he was truly smiling. “Okay?” I asked in a helpless, gentle tone. I felt stupid.

“Okay,” he said, losing the smile and focusing on the road.

I sank down into the seat, turning up the volume and singing along, pretending everything was right in the world.

***

I was in a dark, chilly, tiny room, with stone walls and no windows. My arms ached. I looked up and, illuminated by a thin strip of moonlight, I saw my wrists wrapped by metal chains. My clothes hung in tatters and when I moved, my back scratched painfully against a rough wall.

What was this? Where was I?

Imha walked into the room, her head high, holding her stave. A black cloud followed her. I flinched. Well, that answered my mental questions and put a clamp on my spinning mind.

“Hello, Nadine,” she said, an evil smile over her red lips. “How are you?”

My face went cold. I was interacting in this vision. Oh my God!

Approaching me, Imha tsked. “It is polite to answer questions addressed to you. Didn’t your mother teach you good manners? You don’t want me to call my friends, do you?” she asked, still smiling. “Be a nice girl and tell me everything I want to know.”

I grimaced, then finally finding my voice, I asked, “What do you want to know?”

Imha laughed, like an evil queen in a fairy tale, sending goose bumps over my skin. “You know what I want. I’ve already asked you many, many times. Tell me everything and I will end your suffering.”

“Will you release me if I tell you?” I asked, trying to gain time and find out as much as I could about this vision while I tried to figure out how to go back to the present.

She laughed again. “After all you did, dear? No, no. But, if you tell me, I promise your death will be quick and clean.” Imha came closer until her face was inches from mine, her eyes sparkling with pure vice. “On the other hand, if you keep up with this silence game, I promise you, you will regret ever being born.” She kissed my cheek. Her lips were icy, and under it, my skin crackled, drying out. The withering spread, sending searing pain through my face until it reached my throat, making me gasp and choke.

The realization that I could die hit me. I tried inhaling the air that would save me, but in vain. The parching spread down to my lungs and chest. The world spun and the room became even darker. Blood trickled from my wrists as I struggled against the cuffs, and my legs went numb.