Destiny Kills

by Keri Arthur

  Home, I thought, and felt a smile touch my lips.

  I shoved the car keys into my pocket and walked through the tree trunks, following the faint whiff of water down to the bay’s boulder-strewn shoreline.

  I had no real memories of Loch Ness. I might have been born in its dark, murky waters, but Dad and I had moved here when I was barely six years old. This was the home of my heart. It was here I’d been raised, here I’d learned how to swim and dive, to hunt and fish, and to be all that a sea dragon could be. All under my dad’s watchful gaze and tutelage.

  The image of him sitting on a chair, casually drinking a beer as the moonlight played through his blond hair, had tears stinging my eyes. Damn it, I missed him. Missed him so much my heart seemed to ache under the weight of it.

  And suddenly I was running up the beach. Waves lapped at my toes, tingling touches of power that seemed filled with welcoming. But I no time to stop and play, because time was running out for my dad.

  Our old log home, with its sharply angled green-iron roof and vast array of windows came into view. Despite the urgency hammering at my soul, I slowed. There was no sign of movement near the house, and no sound to be heard other than the whisper of water across stone and sand. There was no sign that anyone had been near the place for months, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t.

  I jogged into the shadows offered by the pines, spruces, and cedars that formed a U-shaped windbreak around our house, and slowed as I neared one of the side windows. With every sense alert to catch any sound or movement, I crept forward and peered past the sill. The living room was filled with sunshine, and dust lay thick on the coffee table and along the top of the old leather sofas. Dad had never been the world’s best housekeeper, but even he wouldn’t let the dust get this thick.

  Frowning, trying to ignore the fear beginning to clog my throat, I ducked past the window and moved to the back door. Again, no one appeared to be near. After another quick look around, I slipped my hand past the potted remains of a sorry-looking raspberry bush and lightly dug at the soil. My fingers touched metal and relief slithered through me. At least some things hadn’t changed.

  I pulled out the key, wiped off the dirt, then slipped along the porch to the door. The key slid in after a bit of jiggling, and the door opened.

  The ticking of the grandfather clock sitting in the dining room filled the silence, and the air was thick with age and dust. I walked through the mudroom and laundry room into the kitchen. The dishes that lay in the sink were coated with sludge so thick it had to have been brewing for weeks, at least.

  Dad wasn’t here. And he hadn’t been here for some time, if those dishes were anything to go by.

  Again fear ran through me, thicker than before. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, and tried to remember who he might have turned to if things had taken a turn for the worse. Really, there would only be one person. Our family had never been big on making friends, and we’d pretty much kept to ourselves over our years here. I had friends at school, of course, but none of them ever knew what I was. Or what Dad was. That was a secret I had never been tempted to reveal—not after my mother’s kidnapping and our subsequent flight.

  I couldn’t remember Dad with friends. It was always just him and me, and I think he preferred it that way. Which meant he could only have turned to old Doc Macy for help.

  One of the boards on the back porch creaked. My heart just about jumped out of my chest and my mouth went dry. I flattened back against the refrigerator and reached for the cooking pot that was always sitting on the stove top. I wrapped my fingers around the wooden handle, my knuckles just about white as I listened to the whisper-soft footsteps moving toward the door.

  “Destiny?” Trae said softly.

  I blew out a breath, twin surges of relief and anger flying through me. Anger won. “What the hell are you doing here? You promised to leave.”

  He stepped into the room somewhat cautiously. He glanced at the pot still clenched in my hand, and amusement briefly touched his lips. “I did leave.”

  “But you weren’t supposed to come back. You were supposed to be returning the ring to your father so you could find your sister.” I slammed the pot back on the stove. “You know, the one that’s in trouble? Remember?”

  Annoyance flared in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

  “So why are you standing here instead?”

  “Damn it, how can I leave when Egan is dead, and you came so close to death?” His voice rose slightly, anger, frustration, and worry all evident in the rich depths. “Those bastards are still out there, and they still have a means of tracking you. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. I couldn’t live without you.”

  Warmth flared through my heart, through my soul, and my feet wanted to do a happy little dance, even though I knew that this was wrong, that he should be more worried about his sister than me. She was family. I wasn’t. Not yet.

  “But what if something happens to your sister when you’re here helping me? Could you live with that?”

  “No.” He thrust a hand through his hair, and blew out a breath. “I rang my mother and asked her what she was feeling about Mercy. She still feels she’s in trouble, but it’s not life or death type trouble. I’m trusting her instinct. It’s all I can do.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said forcefully. “This is my decision, my right, my choice. If something does happen, I’ll deal with it. But I can’t leave you to handle this situation alone. I won’t.”

  I studied him for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him close. Listening to his breathing, feeling the rapid beating of his heart.

  He sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer still as his lips brushed the top of my head.

  “If something happens to her, then I’m going to have to live with it, too,” I said softly, my words getting lost against the wool of his sweater.

  “If something does happen, it will not be your fault, just as Egan’s death was not your fault. You cannot take the blame for other people’s decisions, Des. That’s not fair to them.”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t agree, and no amount of words would ever take away the guilt that lingered deep inside, but there was no point in going on about it. It was just something we were never going to agree on.

  And I just hoped that his sister’s trouble wasn’t anything too big or life-threatening.

  “Where’s your dad?” he said, after a while.

  I pulled away from the warmth of his arms. “Not here. He hasn’t been here for a few weeks, by the look of it.”

  I walked past him into the dust-covered living room and then up the stairs that led to the bedrooms. Dad’s was the closest to the landing, mine up at the far end. A bathroom and a study separated the two rooms, and a quick glance inside the study revealed the usual array of books and papers surrounding Dad’s computer. He might have lost one of his arms, but he’d never lost his love for reading and writing. As I looked at all the piles of paper scattered about, I wondered if he’d achieved his dream of being published in the eleven years I’d been gone. I hoped so. It just wouldn’t be fair to have all his dreams amount to nothing.

  Tears stung my eyes again, but I blinked them back. Find him first, I thought. Cry later. Trae briefly touched my shoulder, but it was a touch so light it would have been easy to believe I was imagining it. Except for the fact that warmth spread like wildfire through my body, filling me with strength and momentarily washing away the sadness.

  “We’ll find him,” he said softly.

  “I know.” I pushed Dad’s bedroom door open. The bed was unmade, the patchwork comforter I’d made for his eightieth birthday trailing on the floor. A dragon’s life span was usually at least double that of a human, but we’d both known the diabetes would snatch him from this world well before he ever reached those sort of illustrious years. But I’d always expected him to at least hit a hundred and ten.
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  My eyes went to the bedside table. The phone was on the hook, but the address book was open. I walked across. Doc Macy’s number stood out starkly on the page. I picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Lubec Medical Center. How may I help you?”

  My mouth suddenly felt dry again, and I had to swallow before I could speak. “I’d like to speak to Doc Macy, please.”

  “One moment, please.”

  And then I was on hold, listening to what sounded like elevator music for a good five minutes. Trae moved up behind me, not actually touching, but close enough that the heat of him pressed into my spine. It felt safer—which I guess was odd considering the man himself was as far from safe as I could ever get.

  “Doc Macy here,” a deep voice suddenly said into the receiver, making me jump a little. “How can I help you?”

  “Doc, it’s Destiny here. Rian McCree’s daughter.”

  “Jesus, girl, where have you been for these last eleven years? Your dad worried himself sick.”

  “It’s a long story, Doc, and not one I can explain over the phone. Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s in Lubec. We had to move him into a nursing home.”

  I rubbed a hand across my eyes, fighting the sting. Fighting the fear. “How bad is he?”

  “Pretty bad. The disease has taken his feet, and most of his internals are on their last legs. I don’t actually know how he’s holding on.”

  He’s waiting for me, I thought. He knows I’m coming. “Where is he?”

  “Twin Pines Nursing Home. It’s run by a friend of mine—one who understands your dad’s needs.”

  Understood what he was, in other words. At least we didn’t have to worry about medical staff uncovering odd genetic differences and reporting them. “Then you’ll know he won’t want to die in that place.”

  “No.” Doc Macy paused. “I’d advise heading straight there, Destiny. He hasn’t got long.”

  I closed my eyes, but really, he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. “Can you arrange his release, then?”

  “I’ll call as soon as we finish up here.”

  “Thanks for looking after him, Doc.”

  “There’s few enough of us left in this world, my girl. We have no choice but to look after each other.” He paused, and I heard papers shuffling. “I’ll get Mike to look after all the official stuff.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hung up the phone and turned around. Trae’s arms went around me, and for a moment I allowed myself to melt into his embrace, to sink deep in the sense of strength and resolve that was so much a part of this man’s makeup.

  “He’s in a nursing home in Lubec,” I said softly. My face was pressed against his chest, and the beat of his heart was a rhythm that seemed to flow from his skin to mine, making it seem in that brief moment we weren’t two but one.

  His lips brushed the top of my head, a feather-light kiss that sent heat shivering through every nerve ending, making me tingle.

  “You want to leave right away?”

  “I have to,” I said, and pulled away from his arms. The day felt suddenly colder. “But there’s a car in the trees at the driveway entrance, and I think they’re Marsten’s men. We need to deal with them on the off chance they pick up the tracker signal as we pass.”

  “They’re not a problem at the moment. I knocked them out and tied them up when I first got here. The car is pretty unnoticeable, so we should have some lee-way before anyone realizes they’re missing.”

  “Good. We’ll need it.”

  He raised a hand and gently brushed the hair from my cheek. “Why is time so important?”

  “Because as I said, Dad is dying, and he wants to do it here, not in some nursing home.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “A sunrise cremation?”

  I nodded even as tears filled my eyes again. I ducked my gaze away from his, and reached down to grab the comforter. “We’ll need this to wrap him in. He’d like that.”

  Trae raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me. I dug the keys out of my pocket and handed them to him. “You drive, I’ll direct.”

  We left the house and made our way back to the car. It didn’t take us that long to drive to Lubec, but I had to stop and ask for directions to Twin Pines, because I had no idea where it was. The town had grown since I’d last seen it.

  Two massive red pines marked the entrance to the nursing home. We drove in through the wrought-iron gates and followed the curved driveway through the mix of pines and elms until the main buildings came into view. They were an L-shaped and double-story brick affair, surround by lush gardens and yet more elms. Very pretty. Trae stopped the car in the parking area to the left of the building, and I climbed out.

  My gaze went automatically to the windows, and I wondered which room was Dad’s.

  “Ready?” Trae said.

  My gaze jumped to his. “Part of me is afraid.”

  “That’s only natural.” He held out his hand. I grabbed the comforter from the car, then walked around and twined my fingers through his. “Come on, let’s go.”

  He gave my fingers a slight squeeze, and suddenly I was glad that he was here with me. His presence gave me strength and helped bolster my courage to face what this disease had done to my dad.

  We followed the concrete path up to the main reception area. Trae opened the door and ushered me through. A pretty blonde at the reception desk looked up and smiled as we entered.

  “Welcome to Twin Pines,” she said cheerfully. “How may we help you?”

  “I’m here to see Rian McCree.” I stopped near the desk and shoved my hands in my pockets so that nobody could see just how badly they were shaking.

  “You’d be Destiny, then? Doctor Jones has been expecting you. He said to go straight up, and he’ll join you as soon as he finishes his rounds.”

  “Thanks. What room is Dad in?”

  “He’s in the left wing, subacute care. Just take the elevator to the next floor, then follow the left corridor along to room two twenty-five.”

  “Thanks,” I repeated.

  Trae cupped my elbow, gently guiding me across to the elevators. He pressed the up button, then reached down and twined his fingers back through mine. “You okay?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t speak. My throat was too dry.

  The elevator doors dinged open. I pressed the button for the next floor and the doors slid shut. The elevator rose smoothly. I guess it would have to in a nursing home.

  We got out on the second floor and followed the long left corridor through a double set of swing doors and into an area that was obviously subacute care. The rooms were more sterile than homey, and the sharp smell of antiseptic stung the air.

  My stomach was churning so hard as we neared the room I thought I was going to be physically sick. Trae squeezed my hand, and it was his presence more than my own courage that got me through the door.

  The frail man on the hospital bed was not the man I remembered. His good arm, visible outside the sheet, was pale and emaciated, and the body under the sheet looked much the same. He had no feet, just heavily wrapped stumps that the sheet only half covered. And the smell . . . Even under the harshness of the antiseptic, I could smell the rot. They hadn’t stopped the gangrene, despite taking his feet.

  I stopped, but he must have heard me, because he opened his eyes and looked at me. His face was pale, gaunt, filled with lines that started from his eyes and ran down his cheeks to his chin, until it seemed his skin was little more than a network of deeply drawn trenches. His once-golden hair was white and scraggly, curling around his ears and straggling across his bony forehead.

  But his sudden smile was the smile I remembered, filled with warmth and caring and love, even if the body behind it was puckered and sunken.

  “Desi,” he whispered, his blue eyes bright with relief and love. “I knew you’d come.”

  I bit back a sob and half ran across the room, taking his hand in mine and holding it up to my cheek.
“I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry that I ran off, sorry that I wasn’t here when you needed—”

  “Hush,” he interrupted. “None of that’s important now.”

  But it was important. Important because while I didn’t regret the reason I left him, the fact was I hadn’t achieved most of the things that I’d set out to do and, as a result, wasn’t here when he needed me.

  I kissed his fingers, then said, “I found her, Dad. She’s alive, and she sends her love.”

  He closed his eyes. “I knew. I always knew.”

  “I couldn’t free her. But she wanted me to come here, wanted me to tell you—”I hesitated, took a deep, quivering breath. “That she will meet you on the forever plains very, very soon.”

  He smiled, and it was a good smile, a happy smile. A smile that said he could finally die a contented man. “It’ll be wonderful to see her, after all these years apart.”

  “She’ll be there, Dad. It won’t be long now.” I hesitated, and looked around at Trae. “Dad, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Trae Wilson. He and his brother helped me get here.”

  “Then I owe you a debt, young man.”

  “There’s no need to feel indebted.” The graveness in Trae’s voice was at odds with the sudden mischievousness in his blue eyes as he looked at me and added, “It was my pleasure. Honestly.”

  And mine, I thought with a wry smile. Even if he was sometimes one of the most infuriating men I’d ever met.

  I squeezed my dad’s hand, and looked around as a man walked into the room. He was tall, slender, and had a wildness about his eyes that wasn’t quite human. “Doctor Jones?”

  He nodded and walked over to the bed, his white coat flapping back and almost looking like wings. He picked up the clipboard at the end of the bed, and scrawled something onto it.

  “It’s all been arranged,” he said. “Your dad has been released into your care for the night. I’ll come out after my shift is over and check on him. If death doesn’t come tonight, we’ll extend the home care until it does.”

  My vision blurred with tears again. I blinked and looked back at my dad. He was still smiling.