Destiny Divided

by Leia Shaw

  She was still dishonest, and every other word out of her mouth was either irreverent or sarcastic, but it was forgivable, all things considered. Finally, he was done trying to mold her into his idea of a sorceress. Now he only wanted her to know she could depend on him to take care of her, to protect her. More than anything, he wanted to win her trust.

  Last night had been a game changer. No longer would he use Sage as a weapon. He was daft to think that would’ve worked. Now, his only goal was to keep Sage safe. That meant out of Cadmael’s reach and within his own.

  After spending all day training, Sage’s stomach had demanded food loud enough to send small animals scurrying away. It was dusk and he’d been feeling guilty about her famished condition.

  “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll take you somewhere nice to eat.”

  With a saucy tone and a half-smile, she replied, “Why, Professor Elias, are you asking me out on a date?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Do you want to go or not?”

  Her stomach growled again. “I think my stomach answered that. But we shouldn’t waste money eating somewhere nice. McDonald’s is fine.”

  He grabbed her hand and kept it when she tried to pull away. The thick trees made it hard to see even at dusk. Sage didn’t have his eyesight so he held her tight as they started down the mountain.

  “First of all,” he said, “when a man takes you out on a date, you don’t question his choice of restaurant. And you most certainly do not bring up the subject of money.”

  “This isn’t a real date.”

  “Secondly, don’t ever doubt my ability to provide for you, anwylyd.”

  She stopped and raised a brow. “Your ego is legendary. It’s like its own entity. No, really. We should name it.”

  With a quick tug on her hand, he made her stumble off balance and fall into him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her still when she tried to squirm away. “Wicked little witch,” he whispered in her ear.

  She arched her back and looked him in the eye. “Oh, a witch now, am I? I thought we were ignoring that part of me.”

  He couldn’t resist. Her plump lips were far too tempting. He kissed her, deep and hard. To keep her from pulling away, he threaded a hand through her hair.

  When she moaned, he almost ripped off her clothing and took her against a tree. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, matching his own thudding rhythm.

  It took all his effort but he managed to stop before he did something too bold for her to forgive.

  She gave her head a shake. “James, I –”

  “Shh.” He couldn’t stomach a rejection right now. “Let’s go eat.”

  They walked the two miles down the mountain to the stashed car in awkward silence then drove to the nearest town. Turned out there wasn’t much of a choice for places to anyway.

  Entering the small diner, James requested seating in the back, away from any windows. Sage rolled her eyes and mumbled something about not needing a personal bodyguard. He knew how wrong she was on that account.

  “Tell me what it was like being in foster care,” James said after they’d settled into a booth and Sage had ordered her meal.

  “Tell me what it was like being turned into a vampire,” she countered.

  He stared at her for a long moment. He hadn’t intended to tell her much about his history. But if he wanted her trust, he’d have to give his too. “Alright. I’ll go first. It was a hundred and fifty years ago.”

  “Holy shit!” She ignored the customers and staff scowling at her.

  James frowned. “You need to work on your swearing habit.”

  She waved a hand, dismissing him. “I can’t believe you’re more than two hundred years old. That’s so creepy.”

  “It’s not creepy,” he snapped, slightly offended. “I’m young compared to most vampires.”

  A delicate brow lifted. “It’s creepy. If you were to be with a human…that would be some serious cradle robbing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we stormed Cadmael’s castle at dawn with three-hundred strong, well-trained men –”

  “Oh right, because women weren’t allowed to fight back then, huh?” The contempt in her voice was obvious.

  He found it too endearing not to poke some fun. “Back then? They’re not allowed to fight now.” Even though it would instigate her temper, he sat back in the booth and gave her a once-over. “As is right for the world.”

  Her eyes narrowed into thin slits of rage. “Let me tell you something, you sexist pig!”

  He had to bite his cheeks to keep from smiling.

  “All it takes is one flash of these babies,” she hoisted up her breasts, “and I’d have every guy in sight stuttering while I thrust a sword through his heart.”

  He could no longer hold back a grin. “You would objectify your body to win a fight?”

  She shrugged. “You told me to fight dirty.”

  He laughed out loud. “Well done, cariad. I no longer think women shouldn’t fight in battles.” Although he hadn’t anyway.

  She furrowed her brow. “Cariad?”

  “A Welsh term of endearment. Like honey or darling.” Not entirely true but she didn’t need to know it.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He gave her a wicked smile. “Why not, cariad? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, sinking into the booth.

  He would call her cariad from then on. Revenge for the knifing yesterday and more than a dozen other transgressions, and just for being a general pain in the ass.

  After an evil chuckle, he asked, “Shall I finish my story?”

  She nodded.

  And so he recounted the epic battle between sorcerers, many his close friends, and the Underworld, more than a century and a half ago.

  The two sides were well-matched in numbers but the sorcerer’s mortality was too much of a disadvantage. If they wounded a werewolf, he would simply push through the pain and heal as he fought. A sorcerer, if wounded, was incapacitated. Or dead.

  Even with the strength of magic, they weren’t able to take down as many beasts as they needed to win.

  He remembered it like it was yesterday. Groans and screams of his brothers filled the air as they were bitten or sliced open with claws. The sound of clashing blades echoed in his mind. Creatures panted and growled as they fought. When the werewolves turned to their preferred fighting form, they became gruesome animals – not quite human, not quite wolf. They were a cross between both but almost as big as a bear on two feet, faster than a wolf on four. They had upper and lower pointed fangs, massive jaws, and long claws. When they turned, they didn’t even need swords to kill James’ men – just a swipe with their sharpened claws could slice a man almost in two. The army tried to fall back when they saw the werewolves easily defeating them. Very few made it out of the Underworld alive that day.

  James had been mortally wounded. Cadmael found him among the slain on the battlefield. He laughed as James clutched his chest, panting and wishing to die. But Cadmael had him dragged into the castle and locked up while he twisted and writhed in agony. A day later, when infection took over his body and he almost bled to death, Cadmael explained he was saving his life although he’d never be a Caerwyn warrior again.

  By that time James thought he was hallucinating from fever. He couldn’t understand what was happening when a vampire bit down on his own arm then trickled the leaking blood into James’ mouth. He tried to resist but he was too weak. Then the world faded.

  When he awoke in the woods, dazed and confused but healed, he thought he was dead. But there was no God. No angels. No saints ready to welcome him across a pearly white gate.

  It was dark and quiet. The only sound was the ravens crowing and flying away when he approached. Then it occurred to him he might be in hell. He was right.

  He finally wandered into a small village, hungrier than he’d ever been. He sat at a pub and begged for scraps. The owner was kind and gave him al
e and meat but it did nothing for his hunger.

  He threw it all up outside just ten minutes later. Then he smelled the most divine scent – one he couldn’t have even dreamt up. His mind went blank and he could only focus on that sweet scent. Mouth watering, his body moved toward the source of the smell effortlessly. He followed the scent until he came upon a woman scurrying from the woods toward the village. She seemed terrified, maybe injured from an animal in the woods.

  At first, James wanted to help. He tried to push that exquisite scent out of his mind so he could focus.

  When he saw it, the woman didn’t stand a chance. The crimson liquid ran down the smooth, pale skin on her arm. It called to him.

  Before conscious thought took over, his body flew at the terrified woman. His fangs were already drawn when he bit down onto her neck and gulped the sweetest liquid he’d ever tasted.

  After he was sated, he dropped the girl and wiped his mouth. His thoughts became coherent again. When he realized what he’d done, he gasped, backing away from the gruesome scene. His tongue grazed the tip of his fangs. He stared down at his blood-soaked hands.

  “No,” he whispered. “This cannot be.”

  He ran headlong into the forest. He was fast – faster than he’d ever ridden on a horse at full run. But he couldn’t run from what he was. When he realized it, he fell to his knees, weeping. He was still covered in blood – blood from an innocent woman. He’d been taught to save lives, not take them. And what was worse, he was hungry again. He knew that if he came upon another human, he would feed again.

  He roared in anger. And he vowed to kill the man who did this to him.

  By the time he’d finished his tale, the food had arrived. Sage sat frozen, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open, and her hands tightly grasped together.

  He looked from her face to the plate of food in front of her. “Sage. Your food is here. Eat.”

  ***

  Sage leveled her gaze and unwound her hands.

  “Right. Eat.” She took a bite of her hamburger. “This just feels wrong. Is it normal that I should be able to eat after that story?”

  James laughed, a dark rich sound that made her heart flutter. “You’re hungry. Your body needs nourishment. Besides, I have long since abandoned the idea that you’re normal.”

  “Very funny.”

  He sat back in the booth. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about foster care. And about your sister, Erin.”

  How could she possibly follow that story? It’d given her a newfound respect for James. She’d been right in her initial impression – he was lonely. And she’d bet he’d never told a soul the truth about the day he was turned.

  He must be so ashamed. His pride had been wounded when he’d failed in battle. And his sense of responsibility made him unable to forgive himself for the lives lost. Most likely, he’d been living as a recluse ever since – empty and hollow.

  She’d also realized something about herself while James described the warrior he’d been. She was attracted to strength. In the past, she’d gravitated to weaker men. Not necessarily physically weaker, but docile and weak-willed. A man she could walk over and bend to her will. It fulfilled her need for control. But those types never lasted long. She was too intimidating, too brash, too intense for them to handle. She’d been left unsatisfied by them as well, especially in bed. Sure, they’d been easy enough to manipulate, but they’d left her feeling empty.

  She needed a worthy opponent. A man filled with confidence, who could challenge her, and, some of the time, even win. As she listened to James’ story, she formed a picture in her head. His body, sweaty and bloodied, muscles rippling as he fought his way through evil, sword in hand. It was sexy as hell. That would be someone she’d allow in her bed. Someone who could take charge but make sure she was well taken care of. Someone who knew what she needed without having to be told every little step of the way. Someone as wild and untamed as she. Just thinking about it made her tremble.

  She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. Now James had asked for her story. She never thought there would come a day that she would talk about it willingly. But, for reasons she couldn’t understand, it seemed natural to tell him.

  “Well, being in foster care wasn’t so bad, I guess.”

  James gave her a skeptical look.

  “There was a family who wanted to adopt me when I was very little. But my magic was out of control, as you know. When weird things started happening that centered around me, they sent me away. But my social worker told me I would be adopted by someone else. And at first, that’s what I wanted. But when each family sent me away, my views on life started to change.” She paused to take a drink of her soda.

  James’ forehead creased, his mouth tipped down in a frown. Was he sad for her? Nothing made her feel weak and vulnerable more than being pitied. But this was different. James would never pity her. He would always expect her best no matter what. It was something she liked about him.

  “Most of the foster parents thought that I was destroying things on purpose when I got angry. And believe me, I had a lot to be angry about. So they thought I was a bad kid. After a while, I started to think it too. And so I became…well…bad.”

  “There’s no such thing as a bad kid.”

  She smiled at his naivety. “Yes there is. I’ve met plenty of them.”

  He shook his head. “Misguided, yes, but not bad. You were misunderstood, Sage. And for good reason. You should have been in Caerwyn, with people who would accept you and teach you how to use your power.”

  “People who would accept me like they do you?” When he stared at the table and didn’t respond, she leaned in. “One thing I’ve learned about the world in my twenty-five years, is that pious people are usually the worst sinners.”

  She readied herself for a lecture about a sorcerer’s noble purpose. Maybe he didn’t want to hear it, but she was right. And someone had to pull his head out of the Sorcery Counsel’s ass.

  Instead of launching a debate, he looked up from the table and asked, “How many homes did you live in?”

  “I don’t know.” A lie. Every child kept track.

  “How many?” He gave her a stubborn look and she knew he wouldn’t drop the subject until she answered.

  “Twelve and two group homes,” she admitted with a sigh. It was a lot – even for a lifer like herself. “Anyway, every social worker told me that in order to get adopted, I had to behave better. But I didn’t listen.”

  “That’s not surprising.”

  “Well, I wasn’t interested in being adopted. I just wanted to be left alone. So when I turned eighteen, the state offered me help me with school, but I said ‘screw you’ and walked away. They hadn’t helped me in eighteen years, what would have changed?”

  “So instead you committed enough petty crimes to get yourself a record then squatted illegally in school basements?”

  She shrugged, stuffing a French fry in her mouth. Sure, it sounded bad when he said it like that. “The school basement was only once. But, yes, that’s the general idea.”

  “And what of Erin?” he asked. “I hope your bad choices aren’t rubbing off on her.”

  She shot up in her seat. “They’re not!” Water bubbled up in one of the glasses on the table. Did she do that?

  James raised a brow then flicked his gaze from her face to the water glass. “I’m sorry if I overstepped about your sister.”

  After a deep breath to calm her temper, the water stilled.

  “Please,” he said with a polite gesture, “keep going.”

  She checked the water glass one more time before continuing. “Erin is going to community college in Albany. The state is helping her.” Her chest swelled with pride whenever she thought about Erin. She’d do anything to keep her from following in her footsteps – especially now that those footsteps included a vampire and host of other nightmarish creatures.

  “Good for her,” he said sincerely. “How long did you live together?”
>
  “Um, a few years. I don’t know exactly. But she was the only person to find out about my abilities. She tried to help me control them but it didn’t work.”

  “Obviously,” he said with a smirk.

  She copied his smirk. “Yes, apparently all I needed was a creepy old vampire to throw me around.”

  “A three-hundred-and-forty-year-old vampire.”

  “Three hundred and forty?” It’d come out louder than she’d intended. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What have you been doing all these years?”

  He leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Well, before I was turned, I lived in Caerwyn. I used to teach Sorcery.”

  That wasn’t surprising. She could tell James liked to teach, if only to feed his ego.

  “Then I trained to be a warrior. I was good at it and a natural leader so I advanced up the ranks until I became General. That’s when I led the attack on the Underworld. You know the rest from there.”

  “And after you were turned? What did you do then?”

  ***

  Looked for you.

  He inhaled deeply then launched into his second tale that night, that he’d never told another soul. “After learning to control my thirst, I spent some time in Caerwyn. I wanted to see if I could get my life back. I tried to feel…normal again.”

  Sage’s eyes filled with pity. Damn it. He didn’t want to be pitied by her. Maybe it was inevitable. He was pitiful.

  “I know what that’s like,” she said. “Wanting to feel normal.”

  It may have been the first kind and sincere thing he’d ever heard from her lips. He wanted to praise her with a kiss.

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, it didn’t work. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be a Caerwyn warrior any longer. Many sorcerers didn’t like me. At least the ones who mattered. They blamed me for the slaughter in the Underworld.” They had every right to. It was his fault.