Destiny Gift

by Juliana Haygert

  Brock let a few drops of the vial’s liquid drip inside my mouth, which slid down my throat. Its taste was sugary and almost pleasant.

  “Let her be,” Brock ordered. They pushed me to the floor. “I’ll give you some time to think.”

  He stormed out of the room and the demons went with him. I was left alone in the dark classroom.

  It was my chance to try and get away. Instead, I remained on the ground, weak and hurt and exhausted. I hugged my knees and let the tears fall.

  Where was Micah when I needed him to come and save me?

  That was when it began. The drops he’d given me burned and slowly made their way into my chest, then my stomach, and then it was everywhere. The drops scorched, prickled, and maimed every inch of my body.

  I wished the pain would stop. Even if it meant I would have to die.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The pain did stop a couple of hours later.

  By then, I was screaming for Brock to come in and kill me because I couldn’t endure it anymore. He didn’t come. Instead, he sent a demon inside to pummel me. It punched my stomach.

  When the burning inside me was gone, I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.

  Each time there were noises outside my door, I squirmed, afraid Brock would come in and give me more of that liquid.

  I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. My life didn’t matter.

  The last year of my life had been a lie. Why would I want to live it? Missing my family, I’d attached myself to someone not even real—my vision Victor—then had been nothing but an instrument in the plans of an evil goddess of love.

  And Ceris thought she was better than Imha. Oh, boy, was she wrong. The ache in my soul outweighed the ache of my body. To know Victor, or Levi, or whoever he was, was with her now, making up for the time they had spent apart, ripped me apart in a way Brock’s torture couldn’t even come close to matching.

  I felt incredibly jealous, even though I wasn’t sure what else to feel. If it all had been a lie, weren’t my feelings for Victor a lie too? I couldn’t discern it right now, and I didn’t want to discern it—ever. Why should I care about my life? It wasn’t even mine anymore.

  I’d given up.

  The door opened, startling me. The demons pushed someone inside. The person stumbled and fell to his knees. I gasped when I recognized Morgan.

  “Nadine,” he groaned, crawling over to me. “By the Everlast, what have they done to you?” Being careful, he hoisted my head up and rested it on his legs. “Where is it hurting?”

  “Everywhere,” I croaked.

  “This is bad.” Morgan assessed my body, looking for visible wounds. Other than bruises from the punches and the scraped knee from the rock climbing, he found nothing. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “I just want to sleep,” I said. But in my mind, I instead wished to die.

  Morgan pulled me up to sit, propping me against a desk. “Did you get to Cathedral Rock?”

  “Yes.” I sighed and told him everything that had happened since last speaking to him—the circle I drew on the rock top, the visions, the revelations about Ceris and Victor and Micah, the end of my gift, the argument, and the way the goddess fled.

  “By the Everlast!” Morgan’s eyes shone. “I had been beside Levi and Mitrus these past few days!”

  Yeah, I could see his point and understand his happiness. After all, the gods he worshipped so much were alive and had talked to him. More importantly, he had helped them.

  But now we were here, trapped with Brock and the demons, missing Micah, and left to die.

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “They found me a few miles north of Sedona.” He looked around the classroom. “We need to find a way to get out of here.”

  “The only way out is death, and I’m longing for it.”

  “What? You don’t mean that.”

  I slid to the ground again. I had no strength to keep myself up. “I give up.”

  “No, you can’t. Everyone wants to live. Everyone has a reason to live.”

  “My life has been a lie.” I wanted to shout, but my weariness prevented my voice from being more than a whisper. “Victor, Micah, Cheryl. My feelings. The scholarship at NYU. The job at Langone. All a lie, and I was used.”

  “And if it was? You’ll give up living because your heart was broken, because things weren’t what you anticipated? Come on, I expected more of you. I believed you were a fighter.”

  How could he belittle the things that had happened to me?

  Oh, and there was Micah. He had used me too. Had he known who he was and flirted with me just to be healed and led to Cathedral Rock?

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  A few silent minutes passed, during which I avoided looking at Morgan.

  “Can I ask something?” he said all of a sudden. I shrugged. “Could you sing, please? The silence is kinda scary.”

  I stared at him. He was a man in his fifties who wasn’t afraid of admitting he was scared, a man who had risked his life for me, a man who would do anything for his dear creed. For him, I agreed.

  I sang a light, romantic ballad. Of course, the lyrics were about lost love.

  On the first high note, I shivered. The music filled my hurting body, expanding my veins with hope, clarifying my thoughts. And I remembered. The joy of singing, the good it did me, the strength it gave me, the will to do more, to be more.

  I remembered my family. And Raisa. And Olivia.

  My family and friends needed me. I couldn’t just die and leave them behind, alone to fend for themselves. I had promised myself I would work hard and support my family, provide them with a better future. I had to keep moving, keep living, forget about Victor, and dig into my original plan—to study and become a doctor and provide for my family. What’s more, I didn’t know if Omi or Imha knew who I was yet. But I knew if they figured out who I was, they could certainly harm my family to get to me, to learn the truth about the guys from me. I couldn’t allow anyone to harm them. I wouldn’t. I had to protect them.

  I had to get out of here. I would get out of here. I would live.

  Other times, the visions had showed me what to do and saved me. This time, I wouldn’t have them and I would have to make do even so.

  By the end of the song, my face was wet with fresh, warm tears.

  I sat up with my back against a desk and looked into Morgan’s eyes. “How did you know?”

  He smiled. “That singing would bring you back? I didn’t. I just prayed it would.”

  I sighed. My body still hurt from the punches and the damned liquid, but my head was clearer. I wanted to feel better, to beat the weariness out of my body, and to find a way out.

  I eyed the classroom, trying to find anything I had missed before—a back door, another unsealed window, a phone. “Any plans?”

  “None yet. All I know is we’re far away from Cathedral Rock in an abandoned school close to an interstate. Outside, there are demons everywhere, but I only saw two inside. The ones guarding our door.”

  “Did you happen to see Micah when you were being brought here?”

  “I wish,” he said, shaking his head. “My guess is that Brock is keeping him somewhere else, some place special, with more protection. He’s a god after all.”

  Yes, a god. It still was hard to believe. “We need to think,” I said.

  “You know, even if we come up with a plan, it won’t be easy.”

  “We can’t give up yet.”

  Morgan started to smile, but Brock burst into the room.

  “Ah, the dear friends are reconnecting. How joyful! Nadine, I can see you’re looking better. Ready to answer my questions, or do you want more of my elixir?”

  “Does it come in strawberry flavor?”

  His eyes registered the affront. “Insolent girl!” He raised his hand. I flinched, anticipating the blow, but it didn’t come. He seemed to reconsider and asked again, “Last chance. What happ
ened at Cathedral Rock, and where is your friend, the one who was with you at the bar?”

  “He went to buy a smoothie, then he left on his flying carpet, and I stayed to play with your demons.” I knew I was angering him, but since I wouldn’t crack, I might as well enjoy it. And I loved watching his cheeks redden in anger. “Give up already. I won’t tell you anything.”

  Brock clasped his hands together. “Yes, I already figured that out. I’m preparing a rite to summon Omi. He will take you and extract the answers he needs from you. Very painfully.”

  Morgan’s wide eyes met mine. Oh God!

  “Brock,” Morgan started. “Please, for our old friendship, let us go.”

  The other priest’s evil laugh made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “I haven’t been your friend for years. I’ve been using your knowledge and your aura sensing power for my own advantage.”

  Morgan’s lips tightened. Ouch, hearing all that from someone he had considered a friend hurt. I had felt that myself.

  “How do you think I found Omi?” Brock continued. “With your ability. And you didn’t even know it. Fool.”

  When Brock left the room, Morgan remained frozen, staring at the spot his former friend had been. I wanted to respect his feelings, but we didn’t have time to waste.

  “Morgan,” I called in a soothing tone. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head and faced me. His eyes were hard as ice. “No, it’s okay. I should have seen that coming. He has always been ambitious. Apparently, not in a good way.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He let out a hollow chuckle. “Not really.” He stood up and scanned the classroom. “We need to get out of here.”

  “I know.” I propped myself up, holding a desk.

  My legs could barely support my weight. I hadn’t slept or eaten anything for only God knew how long, and the gashes on my shoulder stung and throbbed each time I moved. I could lie down and sleep for a whole week. “Omi is coming. Once he arrives, we have no chance of escaping.”

  The corner of Morgan’s lips twitched up. “I have a plan. Not sure if it will work, though.”

  In the back of my mind music played. I hummed to the tune, letting hope flow through my veins. His half-thought-out plan had to be better than sitting around like a couple of victims.

  ***

  I sang again, louder this time—a happy pop song with high notes that demanded more of my vocals.

  Brock pushed the door open and marched in, his nostrils flared and fingers clenched. He slammed the door shut. “Will you shut up?”

  “Why?” I asked, sitting on one of the few unbroken desks, trying to mask my motives with a scared expression. “The demons don’t like it?”

  “Your singing is ruining my concentration.” He leaned closer. “Shut up before I knock you out again.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered, hoping to charge his ire.

  He readied his hand to strike.

  “Brock!” Morgan called in time. The evil priest turned, but Morgan slammed him in the head with a piece of broken desk. He fell on the floor beside me, unconscious.

  Morgan hunched over his former friend, searching his pockets for useful tools and weapons.

  I fought against my irregular breathing. Becoming nervous or scared wouldn’t help our quest. “What now?”

  “Now we wing it,” he said.

  “Excuse me? This is your plan? To improvise against dozens of demons? Oh God.”

  “Better than staying here and waiting for a miracle. Do you have a better idea?” He stood. In his hand, he held the vial with the strange brilliant liquid. He was staring at it, hypnotized.

  “What is that stuff?”

  “Well, if it is what I’m thinking, it’s supposed to be the water from the gods’ fountain. Omi probably gave it to him for this task. It has magical properties, responding to the thoughts of the person using it.”

  “We should hold on to that then, in case we need more help.”

  “We’ll definitely need more help.” Morgan gave the vial to me. “We still have to figure out how to pass through the demons outside without being eaten.”

  That made me think. “By the way, why aren’t there more demons inside guarding us?”

  “Demons can’t stand being in confined spaces for long.” Morgan continued to rifle through Brock’s pockets. “I believe they trusted Brock would be able to contain us. Besides, demons aren’t very bright, you know.”

  “Let’s hope they’re super dumb for the next few hours.”

  Morgan retrieved an odd looking dagger strapped to Brock’s lower leg, under his pants. It was small and had a bright curved blade. The hilt was silver with encrusted red gems.

  “The Crimson Blade,” Morgan whispered, his eyes wide. “It is said that whoever possesses one of these”—he held the dagger up—“either is or will become a lesser god of war, a subordinate of Omi. I can’t believe Brock went this far.”

  “Is it so bad to become a lesser god?”

  “Well, if Brock forced his way into the position, he might have had to sell his soul to the god he wants to be subordinate to.”

  Now my eyes went wide. “Wow, that doesn’t really seem like a fair trade.”

  “It isn’t.” Morgan shook his head and hung the dagger on his belt.

  “What are you doing, taking the dagger? Do you want to become a lesser god?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I probably can’t use its magic, so it’s not truly mine.” He looked around one more time. “All right, I think it’s time to go.”

  I took a deep breath. “We’re going to attack the demons guarding the door, aren’t we?”

  Morgan nodded. “Yup.”

  It might have been our only option, but that didn’t make me like it any better.

  After he dragged Brock’s body to the back of the class and stashed it behind a few desks, I followed his directions and hid behind the door, then held my breath and stood still.

  He bumped the leg from the broken chair against a desk, making a loud noise. It took a few minutes, but the demons eventually marched in, slobber hanging from their sharp teeth, and their long, dirty nails sprouting from their claws dragging on the floor.

  With shaking hands, I closed the door as the brutes advanced toward Morgan. They didn’t look for Brock. They seemed intent on attacking whoever annoyed them. And Morgan was doing a good job. He waved the wooden chair leg around and jumped on a wider desk to get out of their range. But the demons didn’t stop. Morgan tried to keep their claws away by brandishing his improvised weapon.

  That was my cue. I tiptoed to the brutes and opened the vial with the fountain water. I prepared to let a few drops fall on their back, but one of them lunged at Morgan, messing up our plans.

  I froze, my mouth hanging open, as I saw Morgan get pushed to the wall and scratched on his face. Shocked, I almost dropped the precious vial.

  The other demon detected my presence and turned to me. Adrenaline shot through my system, and I was able to move again. I backed away, putting a few desks between us. Not that broken wood and metal would detain the demon, but I needed time to think.

  He kicked the desks out of the way and lunged at me. I slid aside—his claws grazed my shoulder—and let him break his head on the wall. A second later he was after me again, his head intact but the wall in pieces. Pain sliced across my shoulder. I swallowed hard and glanced at Morgan, who was wrestling the other demon, trying to stab him with the Crimson Blade.

  My second-long distraction was enough for the demon to slap me and send me flying. I hit my back on the edge of a desk, and he charged me again. He caught me by my neck and dragged me up, away from the safety of the ground. His huge hand choked me and his nails buried into my skin. I worked on the vial, but couldn’t get the stopper off. My hands shook, and his grip was too tight. I couldn’t breathe. My vision went gray.

  Just when I thought I was sliding into unconsciousness, the stopper popped off. With my left hand, I gra
bbed the demon’s arm and pulled him close to me. With my right hand, I turned the vial upside down above his head. The liquid dripped out, touching his skin. Instantly, he dropped me and yelled, putting his claws over his face. A burnt smell reached my nose before I saw the fire spreading over his body.

  He backed up, yelling and jerking, trying to find a way to put out the fire crackling his skin.

  That caught the attention of the other demon, distracting him. With a roar, Morgan pierced the demon’s chest with the Crimson Blade. Its body collapsed, and thick black blood spread over the floor, forming a large gooey pool. Crumpled in a corner, the demon I had set on fire stopped jerking. His melted skin was covered by blisters as the fire died out. I gagged.

  “Two down,” Morgan stood. “Two hundred more to go.” He chuckled at his own dreary joke.

  I turned to him and gasped at the sight of long, deep, bloody scratches on his cheek, his chest, and his thigh. “Morgan, you’re hurt.”

  He pointed to me. “You too.”

  Blood dripped from my aching shoulder, but the wound didn’t look as bad as his injuries.

  “Can you walk?”

  He limped to the door, gritting his teeth, and cursed. “It hurts, but I can walk.”

  We peeked out from behind the door. The corridor was dark, but I could see the shape of a staircase ahead. A sign on the wall informed us we were on the second floor.

  I pulled Morgan back inside the room. “Don’t tell me you want to simply run out of here.”

  “I don’t like it either. Do you see any other option?”

  I shook my head. Without the visions, there was no other option. Besides, between staying here and fleeing, I would rather die during an attempted escape. I just hoped no other demon decided to come inside.

  He put his finger over his mouth and beckoned me to follow him into the corridor. We tiptoed to the end of the hall, where the staircase was. He peeped inside another classroom. “Come,” he mouthed.

  I followed as I didn’t want to be alone and surrounded by demons again.

  We stood in another dirty classroom, littered with broken desks, dim light pushing its way through cracks in covered windows. The desks had been pushed to a corner. In the center of the room, candles lit a circle drawn on the scarred and dirty hardwood floor.