Destined (Goddess of Fate Book 4)

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  Of course being arrested ten minutes after I slipped through the door probably helped with the excitement level when I got home. Turned out Lieutenant Bailey had left a stake out on my house. I refused to say a word to the officer who arrested me, but when Lieutenant Bailey had me in a holding cell, I admitted to my crime.

  “I wouldn’t lock me up if I were you,” I warned. “I’ll just have to break out. But I’m willing to pay for my criminal behavior. Perhaps you can find me a good community service project?”

  He fought hard to keep his expression stern, but I saw his lip tweaking upward. “I’ll speak with the judge. You’ll have a court hearing in a few weeks. I’ll pull some strings to get you leniency, but that’s all I can promise. Too many people know what you did to just let it slide.”

  I nodded, remarkably unconcerned with how that would affect my future.

  It was all about perspective.

  He released me from the holding cell and told me I was free to go, then called after me as I went down the hall.

  “And Jayne,” he said, and I paused and looked over my shoulder.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what you did, but I know we owe you.”

  I gave him a smile and continued out the door.

  The mystery still remained about what happened to make a fifth of the population of New Jersey and the surrounding states just up and leave their homes. Other than those who had died, they were all home now. And none of them remembered anything, not even reading the poem. Even Stephen had forgotten, though from the perplexed glances he kept sending my way in class, something tickled his memory.

  I didn’t bother enlightening him.

  New evidence came forward proving Trey’s innocence, and he was back in school before I was. Somehow his schedule got rearranged to match mine.

  “I’m still your protector,” he reminded me. “Until my grandson is born to take my place.”

  “And who is going to be the grandmother of that child?” I asked, following his gaze as he spotted Meredith at her locker.

  Trey didn’t answer, but his eyes met mine, and he gave me a wicked grin.

  I had my job back at the Lacey-Barnaget Times, and when I offered to write a human interest piece detailing my experience with disappearing and then trying to re-insert myself into society, Mr. Edwards jumped all over it.

  Aaron moved back to England and started going to Oxford, and his parents gave a collective sigh of relief. I didn’t mind. I’d never felt more secure in our relationship. And sometimes, if I knew someone’s death was close at hand, I would stay at their side when the moment came. Sometimes I would see Aaron there, touching his hand to their body and releasing their soul.

  “What happens when they die?” I asked. “How does Saule collect their souls?”

  “They follow the light,” he replied. “She guides them to the underworld with her light.”

  I spent months looking for an original source document that I could take to Professor Kestovely and show him why the Latvian mythological culture changed from matriarchal to patriarchal.

  But ancient Latvians were not very good at keeping written documents. The stories were passed down from mother to daughter, grandfather to grandchild, neighbor to neighbor.

  There was only one person I knew with a written record of the history of the gods.

  Perkons.

  He would not let me take the original, but the copy I made was exactly like it, written on ancient papyrus and in the hand of Perkons himself. It detailed the first war, the fight for free will, the capture of Saule, and the loss of a matriarchal society. But now, Saule had been freed, and the goddesses had reclaimed their spot.

  Then I wrapped the record very carefully and mailed it to the professor anonymously. I hoped it would be something to satisfy his curiosity and flesh out all of his research.

  *~*

  Dana came home for Christmas break. I packed an overnight bag and moved over to her house for a few days so we could get caught up.

  I became more nervous as I drove through the snowy road to the ritzy part of town. We’d communicated during the semester, and I’d filled her in with information here and there, but this was the first time we’d be face-to-face.

  Nerves and anxiety attacked my belly like avenging butterflies. I had changed so much. She had changed. What if there was something missing between us?

  I parked in the driveway of the two-story house, feeling something like nostalgia as I blinked up at the familiar dormer windows looking out over the street. Snow from the day before had left three inches of gray and white slush lining the driveway. I hiked over a wall of it, my boots keeping my legs dry but not protecting me from the chill as I crashed through the ankle-high snow.

  I didn’t even make it halfway up the shoveled walkway before the door flew open and Dana sprang out. Her curly blond hair was past her shoulders and she wore less make up than she had in high school, which somehow made her appear more mature. But otherwise, her eyes lit up when she saw me just like they always had, and as her arms went around me in a stifling hug that nearly knocked both of us into the snow, my trepidation melted away.

  “Jaynie, Jaynie, Jaynie,” she breathed in my ear. She took a step back and clasped my hand, guiding me up the porch. “Let’s go inside and you can tell me everything again. With facial expressions this time.” She shot me a mischievous grin. “I can’t believe you got married and divorced this past semester.”

  “I don’t think we technically got divorced,” I said, my face flaming. “It’s more like, we pretend it didn’t happen.”

  The warmth of the house enveloped us as we stepped into the foyer. Dana paused at an entry hall table and open the top drawer to remove two dum-dums.

  “We call that an annulment, sweetie.” She held one of the wrapped suckers out to me. “Dum-dum?”

  I shook my head. The sight of her, unwrapping a sucker and popping it in her mouth, made me feel as if nothing had changed after all.

  She had already turned the corner leading up the staircase to her bedroom, and I followed. She waited for me to enter, then closed the door and sat cross-legged on the bed coverlet, pulling me into a seated position across from her. I glanced around at the familiar white carpet and pink curtains, relieved she hadn’t bothered changing the decor. Dana had been the only friend I kept through middle school when all the other kids called me Crazy Jayne, and her room reminded me of the safe haven her friendship had provided.

  “How is it being home, Jayne?” she asked. “Is everything totally strange?” Her brow furrowed in consternation, and she popped the sucker back into her mouth.

  “It’s actually not as bad as I feared it would be,” I said. “I have visions multiple times a day now.”

  Dana gave a light shudder, a delicate movement of her shoulders. “That sounds terrible. What if you just ignored the visions? Refused to watch them?”

  “And risk denying someone the opportunity for a longer life? Sometimes all it takes is for me to open a door, show them a path they didn’t realize they could take.”

  “How do you know their options?”

  This was difficult to explain. “Remember before when I would see a vision and ask Laima to change their fate?” At Dana’s nod, I continued. “Laima did then what I do now. Summon a vision of all their possible futures and decide if it was worth the cost of changing their death. Now I do it by myself.”

  Dana’s large blue eyes never left my face as I spoke, her cheeks hollowed from sucking on her candy. She popped it out and said somberly, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  I lowered my eyes. “Me, neither.”

  “And Aaron?” Her eyebrow quirked up.

  The mention of his name brought a smile to my face. “We’re good. Really good. He’s at Oxford, which makes his parents happy. So they don’t mind me so much anymore. Besides, the two of us have sort of an eternal understanding between each other.” I couldn’t help giggling as I said it, and Dana elbowed me.

  “A
nd you’re really going to college?” she asked. “Is there a need for you to go now?”

  “I still want to be a journalist. I feel like no matter how much I study, I still won’t know everything. And you?” I asked, turning the table around so it was her turn to talk. “What’s going on in your life? You’ve been awfully quiet about boys, which is very unlike you.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Turns out boys can be a hindrance to good grades. I’m kind of ignoring them right now so I don’t lose my scholarship.”

  I couldn’t picture that. Not Dana losing her scholarship or being boyless. “You don’t have to worry, Dana. Your future is full of happiness and success. Your life is going to be wonderful.”

  She squinted one eye at me. “Are you just saying that because you’re my best friend, or is it a goddess thing?”

  I bestowed on her what I hoped was a confident smile. “Of course it’s a goddess thing. You think I didn’t check on my best friend’s future to make sure it’s going to be awesome?” With Laima’s powers, I was no longer limited to only children and dependents. Every living person was open to me.

  She studied me. “Care to share any particulars?”

  I shook my head. “Let’s just say, you’re on the right path. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  “And my life will be perfect?”

  I laughed. “Not quite. But you’ll have all the fortune and good health and happiness you could want.”

  Epilogue

  I tapped my pen on the table as a boy in my Biology 101 study group droned on and on about DNA and proteins and something about an enzyme. I wondered what would happen if they got my DNA under a microscope. Would it have all the same normal proteins and enzymes? Did my cells die like everyone else’s? Or would they remain alive under the microscope, an immortal tissue sample?

  I shook my head. More likely, upon separating from me, any of my tissues would react like a mortal person’s. I lost hair every time I showered (and occasionally feathers) and I bled when I got a paper cut.

  The girl beside me interrupted his monologue. “But that wasn’t part of what we studied. The TA won’t be grading for that in the essay question.”

  The lovely TAs. That was what I got for deciding to attend one of the largest universities in America.

  Getting into Penn State had taken pulling a few strings, thanks mostly to Meredith. Now that I was in my sophomore year, I relied solely on my own merits to make my grade. I might live forever, but I only intended to get a secondary education once.

  I checked the time on my phone as they debated what would or wouldn’t be on the test. We were supposed to be done twenty minutes ago, and I was meeting Aaron in ten.

  The familiar citrusy smell of lemons drifted through the room, creating a sort of haze around me, and the table with my study group suddenly felt farther away. I lifted up my eyes and focused through the haze, seeking out the bearer of the scent.

  A young girl with flaming red hair and flashing green eyes materialized in front of me as if I floated along beside her. She was riding a horse, laughing, the wind whipping her hair around. She turned from being in profile and our eyes met.

  A windy day. Hot and humid, with storm clouds overhead. Riding an adventurous, challenging horse.

  I didn’t flinch from the sensation of becoming Annabelle, didn’t back away from seeing how her life would end. I wasn’t actually there, in the wild outback of Australia, but I felt it as if I were. I knew her, and I knew this location as well as I knew myself. But even though I was behind her eyes, I no longer had any difficulty keeping my identity separate from hers.

  I could See things now with Laima’s power that I’d never been able to see before; namely, how long the mortal had until the vision came true. In Annabelle’s case, her line was short. She had less than an hour. I braced myself and sank into the vision.

  Something is making Roca nervous. I should go back. Annabelle hesitates as a gut instinct wars with her pride. I’m a good enough animal handler. We can ride out a little rain. “Come on, girl. Let’s ride a little longer.”

  Roca tosses her head in disagreement, but Annabelle is in charge, so they gallop onward, flying into the wind.

  Lightning streaks out of the sky, piercing the ground less than a mile away with a crack, sending a tremor close to Roca. Roca screeches to a halt and whinnies in alarm, and Annabelle’s heart skips. The dark storm clouds descend, spinning and churning like an angry ocean. Annabelle keeps her eyes on them while calming Roca.

  “Stupid animal!” she mutters. Roca stomps backward, but Annabelle slows the retreat by pulling on the reins. “It’s just a little rain!” The drizzle begins to fall, just enough to take the edge of the humidity in the air. Annabelle closes her eyes and smiles, relishing the feel of the moisture caressing her face. This little rain wasn’t enough to cause trouble. Summer storms always passed after a few minutes.

  Lightning strikes again, close enough to rile Roca and get her in a panic. Annabelle’s eyes shoot open in alarm and she screams as Roca bolts forward, whinnying in despair. Her attempts to rein in the horse are futile, and she realizes abruptly that she has a crazed animal beneath her.

  “Roca, no!” Annabelle cries, her words lost in the wind. One thought whisperers through her mind: I’m in trouble. She curses herself for not following her instincts and turning back when she had the chance.

  Bouncing in and out of her vision, coming rapidly closer, is the sharp incline of the gully. Roca will never get through it without injury, Annabelle thinks. She yanks on to the reigns, pulling, yelling, desperate to get the panicked animal to listen.

  It’s too late. Survival has nothing to do with her abilities as a rider anymore and everything to do with getting off Roca. Annabelle’s heart hurts as she realizes she can’t save the horse.

  But she might be able to save herself. She’s never had to jump and roll before, but she knows how. In theory. The ground flashes by beneath the galloping hooves, too quick to make out individual rocks. Annabelle takes a deep breath and lets go of the reins, preparing for the roll. She tenses to jump, but at the last minute, fear grips her and paralyzes her, holding her tight to the saddle. She leans closer to Roca and clutches the flying mane, sending her body over the neck, trying to become one with the horse. Bile rises in her throat. I guess whatever happens to Roca happens to both of us.

  With another crash of lightning, the sky tears open, and rain falls from the heavens, blinding her.

  The dry dirt quickly turns to liquid, thick brown sludge grabbing at Roca’s ankles. The horse noises her alarm even as she skids, knees bending beneath her weight. Annabelle cries out, wrapping her arms around the horse in a desperate effort to stay on.

  And somehow, she does. Roca slips, feet tripping beneath her as she falls heavily on her side. The breath whooshes out of Annabelle in a split second, and she struggles for oxygen as Roca’s body pins her to the mud. She can’t even scream as bones break beneath Roca’s weight. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, and she tastes something metallic in the back of her throat.

  “Off, Roca,” she whispers, shoving at the horse’s flank.

  The horse tries. Her sides heave as her legs churn at the mud. Annabelle waits, but Roca isn’t able to get her feet beneath her.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Annabelle’s hand strokes the long hair of the mane. The rain continues to fall in sheets around them, pooling in Annabelle’s eyes and soaking her head.

  A wheezing grunt escapes Roca’s lips, and she relaxes on top of Annabelle, forcing another groan from Annabelle.

  Annabelle closes her eyes. Something must be broken. Roca is as good as dead.

  The mud surrounds Annabelle, pooling into her ears, chilling her to the bone and making her shake. The metallic taste is stronger now, and she coughs up blood.

  Roca stops struggling. The icy cold changes to a tingly warmth, replacing the chill in Annabelle’s body. She recognizes the signs of hypothermia.

  She is as good a
s dead also.

  The heat numbs the pain radiating throughout Annabelle’s body, and she knows she should fight. Stay awake. But her eyelids grow so heavy, and as her breathing slows, she lets them slide shut.

  The vision ended. I replayed it in my head from the beginning, watching Annabelle laugh into the wind, hair whipping around, the skittish horse galloping across the dusty prairie. The storm hadn’t started yet. Was this the right moment for her death? I summoned up a vision of what would happen if she didn’t die right now.

  There were half a dozen ways for her to avoid this death, starting with not taking Roca out for a ride and continuing all the way to jumping from the animal before it fell. Any one of the possibilities led to her living her life out to a natural old age.

  In fact, the only course of her life that would lead to an early death was the one I’d seen.

  The choice was clear. She shouldn’t have to die now because of an unlucky incident and a foolish choice. It was too late to not take the horse out in the storm; Annabelle and Roca were already riding into it. But I found the part of her that doubted continuing in the storm, the little voice in her head that warned it might not be safe. I fed that voice, encouraged it so it would speak louder to her, make her listen more.

  I couldn’t make Annabelle turn the horse around; that was still her choice. But with my prompting, she had a better chance of survival.

  I blinked, and the girl in Australia and her horse vanished from my sight. I sat with my study group again, still debating. I hadn’t missed anything.

  But if I didn’t leave now, I would miss Aaron. We’d decided last year that creating pathways between Oxford and Penn State was a little ridiculous, and Aaron transferred schools. Knowing I could run into him accidentally every time I walked around campus always left me tingly and expectant.

  I stood up and began gathering my things. “I’m so sorry, I have to go now. But I can meet again on Thursday if we need to go over anything else before the test.”