Destiny

by Rachelle Mills et al.

  “Sorry.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes, the memory of the dream already beginning to fade. “Bad dream.”

  “You and your need to hit people who wake you up,” Mary grouches, but her tone softens. We both have nightmares that could cause anyone to strike blindly upon being abruptly wakened.

  “Hey, at least I stopped sleeping with a knife under my pillow.” After everything that happened, I needed to feel safe when I first came to New Orleans. Having a knife close to me so I could defend myself helped. It scared Zeke and the grandparents, but once the therapist told them I needed it, they backed off. Took me months to feel safe enough to put the thing back in the kitchen where it belonged.

  “Thank God for that,” Mary mutters.

  Yawning, I look over at the clock. It’s already after six. Great, I slept through the alarm.

  “Hey, there’s a guy downstairs who says he’s waiting for you?” Mary rummages through her dresser drawer looking for something. “Know anything about that?”

  “Dark brown hair and hazel eyes?”

  Mary nods, pausing in her search to look over at me, curious.

  “That would be Nathaniel.”

  “Who?”

  “Alreric Nathaniel Buchard.”

  She frowns. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Because he’s my brother.”

  Wait for it…

  “Your brother!”

  Clearly, I’m not the only one who had a bad reaction to my brother showing up on our doorstep. I hate to think what Zeke is going to say when I bring him by the house tomorrow.

  “Yup.”

  “Why is he downstairs waiting for you?” She makes a beeline for the bed and falls backward on it, staring at the ceiling and trying not to freak out. She’s heard as much about the Dubois as I have.

  “Because he’s coming with us tonight.”

  She bolts upright, her big blue eyes so wide I think they might explode. “Have you lost your freaking mind?”

  “Maybe.” I shrug and get up to shuffle to the bathroom. I have sewer mouth, and I hate it. Fuzziness on my teeth is one of my top five most hated things.

  Not deterred, Mary follows me to the bathroom. “You do realize his family is why you were in that whole mess to begin with?”

  I brush my teeth before answering her. “The key words being ‘his family.’ He didn’t know anything about that.”

  “How can you be sure?” Mary persists. “Even the Cranes didn’t want you near him.”

  “Because I used my Voice on him, Mary. He can’t lie when I do that.”

  “Unless he can.” She narrows her eyes. “What if he has the same spell that lets you and Dan lie to Zeke?”

  The thought has crossed my mind, but I’m choosing to believe he’s not lying to me. Stupid, but it is what it is. If he’s lying, I’ll deal with it.

  “He’s only here for the weekend,” I say as I go back into my room and start to rummage for clothes. I’m going for all black. It seems appropriate for hunting ghosts. Yes, I know I’ve seen far too much Ghost Adventures. Black is a staple for them.

  “It doesn’t matter how long he’s here, Mattie!” Mary shouts, losing her patience and reverting to my old name. “He’s dangerous.”

  “And he’s still my brother.” I turn to face her. “He’s my family, Mary, same as you and Eric. I just want to talk to him, and I thought I could do it around the people I trust the most. Neither of you will let him hurt me.”

  Mary shuts up, and I use her silence to slide back into the bathroom to change clothes. Mary knows I have trust issues, so when I use the T-word, it means something.

  It only takes me a minute to change and run a brush through my wild hair. Some days I hate curls, especially with the humid heat in Louisiana. It’s always fuzzy and untamed. Sighing, I grab a scrunchie and rejoin Mary, who’s busy texting.

  “I’m ready.”

  She ignores me and continues to text. Must be Wade.

  “I’ll be outside when you’re ready,” I say and start toward the door. That gets her attention.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” She grabs the back of my long sleeve shirt and yanks me. Not hard, but with enough force to stop my forward motion. “You are not going anywhere near this guy without me or Eric.”

  “Then, can we go? We’re already late. Doc hates to be kept waiting, even if the Scooby Gang doesn’t care.”

  “Would you stop calling them that?” she asks, exasperated.

  I shrug. I call it like I see it.

  She shakes her head and grabs her purse, pulling out the little wallet with her ID and debit card. I keep mine in my glovebox, another thing she’s always pestering me about. It’s not safe, what if your car gets broken into…yada, yada, yada.

  We’re both quiet as we go back downstairs and outside to where Nathaniel is waiting. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the people who are out walking. He turns his head as soon as he hears us step out, a small smile playing on his lips.

  His eyes zero in on Mary, and I can tell by the slight way they widen, he was not expecting her to be my sister. She’s light to my dark, all that blonde hair and blue eyes.

  “Nathaniel,” I greet him, “this is Mary.”

  “We met earlier.” He wipes his hands down the side of his pants before extending one to Mary. “Hello, Mary.”

  She eyeballs his hand like he’s the devil instead of my brother. I nudge her, and she grudgingly shakes his hand.

  “If you do one thing to hurt my sister, there will be no place on this plane or any other you can hide from me, understand?”

  Mary’s voice is as quiet as Zeke’s when he’s in threatening mode, and it causes her to sound super scary. Go, Mary. I didn’t know she had that in her.

  “Perfectly.” Nathaniel keeps his smile in place. “I only want to get to know her. I’ve always wanted a brother or a sister. It’s lonely being an only child.”

  Mary tenses, and I wonder if she used to think that before I came into her life. She’d been an only child for almost nineteen years. Her mom worked as a nurse, sometimes night shifts. How many times had she come home to an empty house or gone to bed without another soul around?

  “Well, let’s go. We need to pick up Eric.” I nudge Mary again as she’s standing there, staring. I’m not sure about her expression. It’s one I’ve never seen before. I’ll have to ask her later what is going on in that head of hers. “Are you riding with us or taking your own car?”

  “I can ride with you, if you like.”

  Awkward car ride with my potentially murderous brother, or listening to Mary harp on and on about how this is a bad idea? Easy choice.

  “Mary’s riding shotgun. You can sit in the back with Eric.”

  Mary shoots me a scathing glare, which I ignore and head to my assigned parking spot. It’s going to be a long night.

  Eric is waiting outside his dorm, talking to a girl I don’t know. She’s pretty. Short, blonde, and overly flirty. She’s leaning in just a little too far so Eric has no choice but to look down her shirt. Rolling my eyes, I honk the horn.

  “Who’s that?” Mary whispers.

  “No clue.”

  Eric says something to the girl then comes over to my car, getting in the back seat. He gives Nathaniel a once-over.

  “Nathaniel, this Eric.”

  They bump fists as guys tend to do.

  “You look like Hathaway.” Eric leans up and flips the radio on.

  “Hathaway?” Nathaniel looks lost.

  “I haven’t told him everything.” I turn the radio back off. My head is still killing me. Not as bad as before, but enough that the noise sets off jackhammers in my skull.

  “In a nutshell, she was kidnapped, given the name Mattie Hathaway, and then ended up in foster care. Her family found her, and now she goes by Emma Crane, but I refuse to call her that. She’s Mattie to me.”

  Nathaniel blinks. Several times. I know because I keep glancing at him in the rearview mirror.


  “How long were you in foster care?” he finally asks.

  “I grew up in the system. Zeke found me a little over a year ago.”

  Nathaniel is quiet, as are the rest of us as we drive back to the Duchaines’. I can’t even guess what he’s thinking. Whenever anyone discovers I’m a foster kid, they get weird. I don’t know why, but almost everyone does this. It’s like they pity me, but at the same time, they don’t want to. I was hoping to put off telling Nathaniel any of that until tomorrow at Zeke’s, but thanks to Eric’s big mouth, that’s a bust.

  All I can do now is answer any questions he has and hope he doesn’t pity me or judge me.

  I have a feeling our already long night just got longer.

  Chapter Ten

  There are two vans parked in the Duchaines’ driveway when we pull up, forcing me to park on the sidewalk, something I hate to do. The small fortune Zeke dished out for this car gives me hives, and the thought of anyone scratching it—well, let’s just say nuclear warfare is a mild reaction.

  “The Ghost Chasers?” Nathaniel does his best to keep the laughter off his face, but he doesn’t manage it. Mary shoots him another hostile look.

  “What about it?” she snaps.

  “Uh…” Nathaniel stares at the van, trying to find something nice to say, but there really isn’t. It’s a cheesy name.

  “You guys are late!” Wade shouts from the front porch.

  “Your sister doesn’t like me very much, does she?” Nathaniel asks when Mary hurries up the steps to greet her crush.

  “I think it’s more she’s worried about the danger you might pose to me. She’s protective.”

  He laughs softly. “Yeah, I got that right off. Mary reminds me of a lioness.”

  “If you think she’s a lion, you don’t even want to contemplate what I’m like when it comes to protecting my family.” Eric’s quiet words startle us both. I didn’t realize he was right behind us.

  “I’m not here to hurt her, I swear.” Nathaniel turns to face him, his expression earnest.

  “That’s what a lot of people who ended up hurting her said. I won’t ever let that happen again. I’ll kill you first, and her father will make sure it’s never tied back to me. Are we clear?”

  Eric’s deadly threat is even scarier than Mary’s. He means it. I see it in his eyes. He would kill to protect me the same as my father would. It’s probably why Zeke likes Eric so much. He sees how much Eric loves me and the lengths he would go to in order to keep me safe. I should be shocked and appalled, but I’m not. It gives me a sense of peace knowing how much I mean to him.

  “Crystal,” Nathaniel says, his voice neutral.

  “Now that all the threats are out of the way, let’s go see about getting this thing out of the house for this family.” I start walking, cutting off any further conversation.

  Doc is standing in the living room, directing traffic. There are all kinds of equipment covering nearly every surface. Cameras and microphones are going up, as well as equipment I can’t even name.

  “Doc?”

  He turns and gives me a tired smile. “I didn’t know if you were coming. You’re late.”

  “Sorry about that. I slept through my alarm. Nasty headache.”

  And just like that, he goes into concerned parent mode. He knows all about the seizures that almost killed me during the Deleriel adventure.

  “How bad is the pain? Where is it? Should we get you to the ER?”

  “Why would you need to go to the ER for a headache?” Nathaniel comes to stand next to me, curious but concerned.

  “It’s a long story and one we don’t have time for. I’m fine, Doc. Just a regular headache. Nothing to worry about.”

  Doc doesn’t look like he believes me, but he lets it drop. “Who is this young man?”

  “This is my friend, Nathaniel. He knows quite a bit about the supernatural, and I thought he might be able to help.” Doc knows about the Dubois family and what they’re capable of. No need to spring on him who Nathaniel actually is unless it’s necessary.

  “You’re interested in the supernatural?” Doc quirks a brow at my brother, waiting for his response.

  “You don’t grow up in Savannah without learning all about the ghosts that roam the area. It’s one of the most haunted cities in the States.”

  “Yes, it is.” Doc nods approvingly. “I’ve studied quite a few hauntings there.”

  “What’s all this?” I sweep my arm to encompass everything going on.

  “Seth and I got here early and managed to get our cameras up in the best positions, and now I’m making sure they don’t get taken down or swapped while these boys put up theirs.”

  Sneaky, but I expect nothing less of Doc.

  “What about the rest of this stuff?”

  “Various things. Some are mine, some are the boys’. We need to study the environment, so we are monitoring heat signatures, cold spots, trying to get all the scientific evidence we can to back up what we already know is here.”

  “The boys being the Scooby Gang?” Nathaniel deadpans, and I check to make sure Mary didn’t overhear before letting out a small laugh.

  Even Doc chuckles. “I’m not sure they actually know what they’re doing, but they have invested in some nice cameras.”

  “Rich kids with too much time on their hands,” I mutter. Eric hears me and nods. We both know what it’s like to be poor as paupers.

  “Aren’t you a rich kid too?” Nathaniel asks.

  “Technically, but I don’t act or think like one. My dad gave me a credit card, and I get hives when I think about it. I’m content without a lot of money.”

  “Okay, everyone, I think we’re live!” Wade calls, and I turn to see a bank of computer monitors showing every room in the house except for bathrooms. One screen shows heat signatures, each room represented on the squares of the screen. It looks professional, and I grudgingly admit I might have to give some props to the Scooby Gang.

  “Uh, what now?” Eric leans over my shoulder to stare at the screens. “We just sit around and wait for something to happen?”

  “Pretty much.” Ethan sets down a bag of cameras as he comes into the room. “A lot of this is watching and waiting.”

  Eric’s entire body freezes up. I can feel it because he’s pressed against me trying to get a better look at the computer screens. He really likes this guy, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. I’m not going to push him on it the way Mary does. I understand what it’s like to wake up with strange and unsettling new feelings coursing through you, feelings you didn’t ask for or want. I’m not going to make him any more uncomfortable than he already is.

  “Why don’t we gather in the dining room and go over our information?” Doc suggests and ushers us toward the side entrance off the kitchen. The archway flows into a very large dining room with a table that could easily seat fifteen or twenty. It’s made from old mahogany, something I only know because of Zeke. He was gushing over his office desk he found at an auction. The desk and the table look to be made of the same type of wood.

  Once we’re all seated, Doc lets Wade do his thing first.

  Wade stands and clears his throat, moving to the head of the table. He looks at us, trying to build atmosphere, I’m guessing. It only makes him look awkward.

  Once Ethan hits record on his camcorder, Wade begins. “After speaking with the Duchaines at some length, we have determined they do indeed have a haunting. They are experiencing classic signs of hauntings such as lights flickering, cold spots, the water faucets in the house turning on by themselves. They’ve also heard things like footsteps on the stairs at night. Our job tonight is to capture physical evidence of the haunting and potentially identify the ghost who is still hanging around. Sometimes, if you can confront them with their identity, you can get them to move on. We’ve set up gear throughout the house that will help us get what we need and what may deliver this family from the horror they are suffering.”

  It takes everything I have not t
o say something snarky. This guy actually has followers on YouTube who listen to this? No personality at all.

  Doc takes Wade’s place next, and I sit back. At least we might hear a good intro for the Scooby Gang’s video on this haunting. Doc has the kind of voice that draws you in and keeps you hanging on his every word. He’s a born storyteller.

  “Thank you, Wade,” Doc nods and shuffles through the papers he’s holding. “My assistant Seth did most of the work here by going to the library and digging through a lot of old records.”

  The guy, who’s three chairs down and across from me, tips his head in Doc’s direction. He looks to be about Nathaniel’s age, but he’s got sandy-blond hair and green eyes. A strong jaw and very elegant nose complete his face. He’s cute.

  “This house was built in 1956, along with every other house on the street. Before that, the land belonged to one Christopher Harcourt. His family ran into some financial trouble and had to sell off everything they owned. It was not something the family wanted to do, but it was a choice between eating or living on the streets.”

  He clears his throat and looks around the room, his gaze resting on each of us in turn, and we all lean forward, his voice pulling us in as he weaves his tale.

  “There have been three suspicious deaths on this property. One was Amelia Harcourt, the wife of Anderson Harcourt, who bought the land back in 1843. The death certificate ruled her death accidental, but it’s hard to accidentally break your neck in your own living room.”

  Last night’s dream comes back to me, and I wonder if any of the suspicious deaths were caused by fire.

  “We fast-forward thirty years to the death of Graham Harcourt, the youngest of son of Anderson. He drowned in the lake that is attached to the property. Accidental again. There were no clear details on the drowning, so we don’t know exactly the method of drowning.”

  I am so done with water deaths. I still can’t take a bath because of the ghost who tried to drown me in the tub.

  “And our last death occurred in 1972, when the father of the last owner of this house died. Henry Duchaine passed peacefully in his sleep. As you can see, there are no flashing neon signs screaming at us as to why this house is haunted. Those deaths were abrupt, yes, but not violent.”