Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series

by Laurie D'Ghent

  “There's nothing to tell,” she said, still defensive. “I was playing ping-pong by myself--”

  Paul interrupted her. “How do you play ping-pong by yourself?”

  “Not very well.” She rolled her eyes at him, then continued. “Evan started pelting me with balls, we started playing a game, I accidentally hit him in the eye, and then he informed me that he wants me gone, even if he has to kill me himself.” She crossed her arms and sunk lower on the floor, sullen.

  After a moment, Paul said, “I'm confused.”

  “Join the club! One minute, he's all, 'Ooh, let's be friends and joke around and play games,' and the next he's like, 'I am the big-bad evil dude and I'm going to kill you.'”

  “He said that? That he's going to kill you?”

  “No, not in so many words, but it's what he meant,” she muttered. “You had to be there.”

  Paul sat silent for a moment, then said, almost to himself, “I wonder if this has anything to do with Ben?”

  The familiar surge of anger, and embarrassment, rushed into her. “Ben? What does Ben have to do with anything?”

  “You know he's been recaptured?” Paul asked. When Integrity nodded, he continued, “I'm assuming he's below the castle as we speak. It can't be easy on Evan.”

  “What does Evan care?” Integrity asked, shaking her head.

  Paul looked at her. “They were best friends.” He dropped his gaze from her face, chagrined. “You didn't know. I apologize. That was not the most tactful way to handle the situation.”

  “Okay,” she said, slowly, “but why aren't they still friends? They both hate me. Isn't that enough common ground? Or did they fight over some girl?”

  Paul shifted, uncomfortable. “They did fight over a girl—you.”

  “I was thinking more like Jydda,” she said, distantly. Returning to herself, she said, “So, what, they wanted to decide who got to kill me? It's a shame I'm just a weak mortal, otherwise they could each have a turn,” she groused.

  “You believe Ben wanted to kill you?” he said, his voice carefully modulated.

  “Well, he sure wasn't in love with me!” Integrity spat. She shoved her arms toward him, baring the scars that crossed the delicate flesh. “He drove me to do this, or have you forgotten?” Integrity snorted, shaking her head. “Idiot,” she muttered.

  “Well,” Paul said, rising to his feet, “what's done is done. Just steer clear of Evan for a few days. Okay?” When Integrity frowned rebelliously, he added, “For my sake?”

  “Fine, whatever,” Integrity said, refusing to look at him. “Who wants to be around someone that bi-polar, anyway?” Defiant, she grabbed the box of snacks. “But I'm eating all of these!” she said to his retreating back.

  Paul laughed as he closed her door behind him.

  Є

  Glegnar wiped his nose with the back of one hand, sniffed. She'd been in there a long time. A terrible long time. He sniffed again, hiking his pants higher. “Oughta check. Make sure she's fine,” he grumbled to himself. Yet, still he hesitated. Was it worth risking their anger? After a moment, he moved down the shadowy hallway, making a conscious effort at silence.

  He heard their voices before he could clearly see the cell door, but the words were unclear. He hesitated again, then moved forward a few more steps. He could hear her voice, but not his. Logically, this should be enough. She was obviously fine if she was speaking so calmly. Still, he drew nearer.

  “...about the fire? The door?”

  Glegnar halted, unable to draw nearer, the man's voice enough to make his face twist into a snarl.

  “All is in place,” the woman purred. Glegnar heard the sound of a kiss. He bared his teeth. “You need not worry. This will work.” Kissing again.

  Glegnar looked over his shoulder, back at the door, then turned and set off down the hallway, more quickly than he had descended it, his face still contorted. A man could only endure so much. Hearing that little bugger kiss someone of her stature was more than he could bear. He half hoped the maniac did attack her. “Serve her right, sending me back to my desk,” he muttered, limping upward into the light.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Integrity heeded Paul's warning and steered clear of Evan for several days, which meant that she was confined to her quarters, door closed. The boredom grew exponentially, and she began to realize how lucky she was to have freedom to roam in Evan's quarters. Granted, it wasn't true freedom, but it was a heck of a lot better than being locked in her room like a bird in a cage. She began to feel real sympathy for animals in zoos.

  Once, when Kellin was in her room and needed to go out, she had the perverse desire to yell down the hall to open the door, but she restrained herself; she had heard someone walk past her door to the main living area and, since Paul usually stopped in to break up the monotony of her day, she could safely assume it was Evan. He hadn't harassed her since her self-imposed isolation went into effect, but that didn't mean he wasn't still harboring murderous feelings. Better safe than sorry. Besides, it would serve him right if Kellin peed on his floor.

  She was trying to focus on the most recent book Paul had brought her when she heard a commotion in the main room. She set the book aside, moved the door, and grasped the doorknob before she paused to consider what was best. Perhaps Evan was having an episode of some sort, and she was better off in her own room. Or maybe he has a visitor, and the last thing I need is for someone to see me here.

  She gasped and leaped back as she felt the knob twist under her grip. She was glad she had moved away as the door swung violently inward. Expecting to see Evan standing there, a bloody chainsaw in his hand, she was perplexed when Paul burst into the room and grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Paul?” she asked, mystified.

  “We need to get you out of here, now,” he said, not looking at her, as he dragged her to the main room and out the door into the hallway.

  Integrity felt a moment of panic at leaving Evan's rooms. The only other time she had been out was when Evan had shown her Kellin's bathroom, and that had been under very controlled, calm circumstances, in the middle of the night. Now, she and Paul were barreling down the hallway like a couple of inmates on a prison break, and she felt distinctly vulnerable.

  Paul jerked her around a corner and through a door. She found herself stumbling up a narrow flight of wooden stairs. “Paul, what's going on?” she panted, struggling to not bowl him over in her descent.

  At the base of the stairs, Paul jerked open another door, pushed her through, then closed it behind them. Grabbing her arm again, he hustled her down an unfamiliar hallway. “The rebels have discovered your presence here,” he said, turning his head briefly so she could see the side of his face. “They're on the war path.” He ran down the hallway, Integrity following in his wake.

  “War path?” she said. “What do you mean? Is the castle at war?”

  Paul turned two corners in rapid succession, then tugged Integrity up a broad, elaborate flight of stairs, their footsteps muffled by the slate blue runner that crawled neatly up the center. “In a manner of speaking, though not everyone is on a side.” Down another hallway at top speed. Integrity felt a stitch growing in her side. Paul jerked her through a doorway, then pressed her back against a wall, one hand against her shoulder, the other gesturing for her to be silent. Integrity heard someone pound down the hallway outside the door. Her stomach crept up, constricting her lungs.

  When Paul lowered his hand, she hissed, “What is going on?”

  One eye, and, she assumed, one ear, still focused on the door, Paul murmured, “The rebels, as you know, believe you are false, that you're not the Destine.” Paul turned his full attention back to the door, then continued. “They have discovered your presence here, and they have become something of an angry mob.”

  “You mean, with torches and junk?” Integrity asked, her heart pounding. “Like I'm Frankenstein's monster?”

  “Hey, you knew the monster wasn't named Frankenstein,” Paul said, looking at
her once more.

  “Paul!” she said, exasperated.

  “Sorry,” he said, refocusing on the problem at hand. “No, they don't have torches, but they have the same intent.” He couldn't quite meet her eyes.

  “They want to rip me into little pieces?” she squeaked.

  “More or less.” When Integrity felt her knees begin to buckle, she stiffened them quickly, but Paul noticed. He looked at her in concern. “Hey, don't sweat it. I haven't let anyone kill you yet, have I?” he said with false joviality. She laughed weakly. “Ready to go on?” he asked, concern apparent on his features.

  “Better than being dissected,” she joked lamely, and she found herself pulled into the hall once more.

  Only a moment later, she realized that Paul knew they were being followed long before she did. The crowd behind them was drawing closer, and she only now began to pick up the sound of their footfalls. She urged herself on faster, though the pain in her side was increasing. Paul's tow did not lessen, his speed increasing as well. He continued to drag her along.

  She swung past him when he stopped, her momentum carrying her forward. He shoved her unceremoniously into a room, hissing at her, “There's a door behind that tapestry.” He pointed at a large strip of heavy cloth hanging on one wall. “The catch is under the floor molding, left side.” When Integrity didn't move, he shoved her. “Go! You'll be safe there!” She saw him glance back down the hallway before he hastily shut the door in her face.

  Recalling the nearing mob, Integrity dashed to the wall and shoved the draped fabric aside, crouching down. She fumbled desperately for the catch, not knowing what it would look or feel like. She could hear the crowd drawing nearer. It felt as though her heart was pushing on her throat. She shoved the tapestry out of her face and dug desperately at the molding, not knowing if the catch would be on the top or bottom. Please, please let them run straight past this room, she prayed desperately. Please, Father, help me!

  Her finger caught on what felt like a small piece of wood, and she heard a click in front of her. She grasped at the door where it had popped ajar, peeling several fingernails back from their beds in her haste to open the secret entrance. She slipped through the gap and hurried to pull the door tightly shut, gripping an exposed wooden brace. She heard the door click into place, but tugged it twice more to make certain it was latched. Oh, please, let the tapestry have fallen back into place.

  She struggled to control her raspy breathing, straining her ears to hear whether or not the mob had discovered her hiding place. At first, she heard nothing, and she sighed in relief. Then she heard what sounded like a piece of furniture being overturned.

  She stepped back and almost fell, only now recognizing that she was standing in an extremely narrow stairwell, one so tight that she felt she could not turn without fear of knocking her knuckles against the bare, wooden walls. She stepped down the staircase, then flinched when her footsteps echoed. Stupid wood, she cursed. Why couldn't it be stone like everything else in this stinking place?

  She paused, her breath frozen in her chest, listening for some sign that she had given herself up. Though she could hear several people in the room beyond the moving panel, they did not sound increasingly frantic, or as though they were zeroing in on her location. However, they weren't leaving the room, either. She strained her memory to dredge up what the room had looked like, and she could not recall many places where she could have hidden. Surely they must have searched all of those twice over by now?

  Carefully, still facing the doorway, she eased herself down several more steps. The stairs must lead somewhere, she conjectured, so I may as well get close to the other exit in case they find that door up there. She eased further down the stairs, moving painfully slow so as to inhibit any noise.

  She almost gasped when her back bumped into a wall, but controlled herself just in time. She dropped one hand to her side, letting her fingers touch the solid wall behind her, then turned her head to the left. Another flight of stairs led down. She hesitated, straining her ears to hear what was going on in the room above her. Nothing seemed to have changed, so she eased herself around the corner and started down the stairs sideways, turning her head back and forth to see up the stairs to the now hidden doorway, and down to the new one.

  Integrity neared the lower doorway, then paused. What should she do? Did she dare leave the secret stairway and risk capture outside, or did she stay put and risk capture inside? She could still hear the faint sounds of the room above being torn apart, along with the occasional expletive, so she had to assume that the group somehow knew she had been there. Was it only a matter of time until they found the entrance, or was it too well hidden?

  She jerked her head to the side and pulled back. She had heard something brush against the door at her side. Hadn't she? After a moment, she took a shallow, silent breath. You're losing it, she told herself. Just chill. There's no one there.

  She almost had herself convinced when a much more solid sound broke her false reality. It sounded as though someone had rapped their knuckles against the door, just opposite her head. Frightened, she scuttled up the staircase, struggling to be silent, and knowing she was failing.

  She reached the bend and moved toward the higher room, out of sight of the lower door, when she heard what sounded like cloth tearing, and then excited exclamations. Several footsteps neared the higher entrance. Integrity slunk back to the turn in the staircase.

  She heard a click from below, and her head jerked that direction. Pounding sounded from above, echoing around her. Who would come through first? Who would see her first? Where should she hide? What should she do?

  Integrity sank into the corner of the staircase, curling up into a ball, her back pressing painfully into the wood behind her, and buried her face in her arms. I wish I could just disappear!

  When someone touched her right elbow, she flinched, cracking her head against the wall behind her. She heard the activity above her double even as she turned to see who had caught her. A single dark form loomed over her, its face in shadow.

  “Quickly.” She grasped the hand offered to her automatically, before she recognized the voice. When that recognition came, she jerked her hand back and cowered against the wall once more.

  “You're one of them? One of the rebels?” she whispered, unable to get enough air into her lungs to speak louder.

  “No, you idiot.” She flinched once more as he reached toward her. He dropped his hand back to his side, glanced up the stairwell when a loud crash sounded. “They'll break through that door in a minute. It's your choice—stay here and let them kill you, or trust me.”

  Trembling, Integrity looked up at the door above her, another loud thud echoing around them. She hesitated only long enough for another crash from above, then reached forward, unable to trust her own legs to support her. Her hands clasped desperately at her captor's shirt as Evan wrapped one arm around her and guided her swiftly down the stairs.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  By the time Evan and Integrity were in a car heading away from Westmarch, she was thoroughly embarrassed that she had clung to Evan the way she had. Typical helpless female, she thought, bitterly. You may as well have fainted.

  Why had she clung to Evan, anyway? Sure, she couldn't stand up very well, let alone run, but there's a difference between using him to keep herself upright and clinging to him like a half-drowned puppy. “Any port in a storm,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” Evan asked, glancing at her only momentarily before returning his gaze to the road.

  “Nothing,” she said, speaking louder. She noticed that Evan couldn't quite hold back a smile. Great, he heard you. What next? Wanna tick him off enough that he drives this car into a tree? Grudgingly, she forced herself say, “I was just saying, 'Thanks.'” When he didn't comment, she added, “You know, for saving me.”

  “It took you long enough to decide to come with me,” he retorted, less than kindly. “Any longer and we wouldn't be having this conversat
ion.”

  “Well, excuse me for not immediately trusting someone who threatened my life a week ago! Geez, what was I thinking?” she spat back. “You got your wish, anyway,” she continued, more sullen than angry now. “I'm gone. Where are you going to dump me off? I'd prefer to be out of the woods.” She gestured at the trees speeding past them.

  “What makes you think I'm dumping you off anywhere?” His voice was cold, steely.

  “It kind of defeats the purpose of getting rid of me if you have to stay with me,” she said. “Unless you are going to kill me?” She focused on keeping her voice defiant, hoping to hide any doubt that remained, lurking in the shadows.

  Evan started to say something, stopped himself, and took a deep breath. His voice carefully modulated, he said, “This is not...going correctly.” He kept his gaze focused on the road ahead of them. “No, I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I would have let the rebels capture you.”

  “Then why did you tell me to get out?” Integrity asked, still defensive.

  Evan sighed. “It's...complicated. Suffice it to say, I apologize.”

  Integrity clasped a hand over her heart. “You? Apologize? What's the occasion?”

  She wished she hadn't been so snotty when his hackles rose again. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know they wanted to kill me.”

  “If you were lucky!” Evan exploded. She flinched automatically. They rode in silence for an uncomfortably long time.

  “Why get involved if I'm nothing but a pain in your butt?” she muttered, half hoping he wouldn't hear her.

  “It's...”

  “Complicated. Yeah, I know. Where are we going, anyway?”

  Evan laughed, though the sound was colored with bitterness. “I haven't the foggiest idea.”

  “Really?” Integrity asked, shocked. I thought they always had a plan.

  “Really,” he confirmed. “Any suggestions?” Integrity hesitated, and he prodded, “What? What is it?”