Dark Destiny

by Thomas Grave

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank everybody who gave me some insight on how to put this thing together: Anthony Kimble-Ruggiero, Samantha Lafantasie and Reed Bosgoed who helped me out tremendously. I’d also like to thank Heather Beam for her encouragement and support throughout this entire process.

  Cover Art

  Chis Valentine

  behance.net/chrisvalentine

  Cover Typography

  Najla Qamber Designs

  najlaqamberdesigns.com

  Book layout

  Alex Camacho

  quietlyscheming@gmail.com

  Edited By

  Hayley Linfield

  hayleylinfield.webs.com

  Written by

  Thomas Grave

  Please visit my website at www.thomasgrave.com

  www.facebook.com/gravefiction

  Dark Destiny is a work of fiction written by Thomas Grave. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to person, living or dead or zombie, actual events, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Thomas Grave

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my family, plain and simple.

  Love you guys.

  I

  The Beginning

  And I saw in the right hand of him that sat on the throne a book written within and on the backside, sealed with seven Seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the book, and to loose the Seals thereof.”

  – Revelation 5:1-2 KJV

  Nine months ago

  It seems as if nothing ever changes, Makayla thought, tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear. Her ice blue eyes locked on the school bus coming to a stop in front of her, its brakes squealing in protest. The doors swished open to allow her entry. It might have been late spring, but in Honesdale, Pennsylvania a fresh layer of slush covered the ground. Makayla trudged up the bus steps, stomping sticky snow from her shoes. She sank into her usual seat and leaned against the bus window. The smell of wet gloves and socks permeated the air. Heaving a bored sigh, she turned to the window and watched the neighborhood houses drift past. This had been her routine for the past two years.

  At school, she tramped up the same worn stone steps. She grudgingly passed through the same heavy wooden double doors. She walked into the same crowded hallway over the same shiny floor tiles, passing the same classmates dressed in the same standard uniform: white button-down shirts and blouses with khaki pants or skirts. The same students greeted her in succession, as they had every other morning of her sophomore and junior years.

  Athletic Jake, with his military-style buzz cut and mild acne, greeted her first. He winked and said, “Hey, Makayla.”

  “Hello,” she replied as always, with a slight smile.

  Sharon, the future pop star, came next, waving frantically. “Makayla!”

  “Sharon.” Makayla acknowledged the girl with a well-practiced small wave as she passed by her.

  And finally Robert. His hair slicked back and sunglasses in their usual place, where they would remain until he was inevitably told by a teacher to take them off. “Call me!” he urged, snapping his fingers and pointing to her with both hands. “Think about it.”

  “I will,” she replied, snapping her fingers and pointing back at him.

  As she reached her locker, she thought she had been stuck in a continuous time loop, like a bad episode of Supernatural. Only less interesting.

  Makayla entered her combination and the lock popped open. As she retrieved her history book for her first class, a commotion echoed down the hall. She peered in the direction of the noise, but students had clustered together to witness whatever was going on and she couldn’t see what was in the center. A few seconds later, the chaos moved toward her. She leapt out of the way as a boy she didn’t recognize was slammed into her locker. It struck her as strange because she thought she knew everyone in her small town.

  “You want your bag back?” Liam, the leading scorer on the basketball team, asked.

  Liam was the type who liked to go around telling people about his ethnic background, as if anyone cared, though his alleged combination of Scottish and Latin did grant him a ridiculously perfect tan. He was also tall, handsome, and extremely fit. Makayla had once heard him say he had zero percent body fat. She marveled at how anyone could sound so conceited and stupid at the same time. She hated arrogance, and here it was standing in front of her, holding the bullied kid’s bag up in the air like it was some sort of trophy.

  She shifted her gaze to the new kid. He was a mishmash of teen Goth, wannabe rocker, and preppy school kid. Black nail polish accented his nails and his dark brown hair popped out from under a black beanie. He wore black leather wristbands with silver studs and a 1950s style leather jacket. Then there was his perfectly ironed school uniform. Makayla appreciated the fact that he had tried to make the required attire his own, unlike the rest of the boring boys at school.

  “Give it back!” the boy begged. He charged Liam, but another boy tripped him and he clumsily wobbled forward. Liam punched him in the gut. Makayla watched as the boy clutched his stomach and struggled to breathe. He collapsed to the ground coughing and gasping.

  “You like that?” Liam asked, grinning like a dog ready to fetch.

  The boy stayed on the ground. It seemed like all his will to fight had left him.

  “You want this back?” Liam taunted. “Well, here you go.”

  With every ounce of power Liam had, he slammed the bag against the ground. The sound of glass shattering rose above the hum of the crowd. Water darkened the sides of the bag as it seeped out, pooling on the floor.

  As Liam stared at the bag in confusion, Makayla’s eyes drifted to the boy gasping on the floor. He wasn’t what most girls would consider handsome, but something about him caught her interest. Such sadness in the eyes. Could others see the same in hers? Then she turned back to the bullies and realized the morons weren’t quite done.

  “What do you have in there?” Liam asked condescendingly.

  “Hey!” Makayla shouted, stepping in front of Liam as he bent down to pick up the leaking bag. She stepped on the bag’s strap before Liam could grab it.

  “What’s your prob—”

  Makayla slapped him in the face, s
topping whatever retort was about to come out.

  Liam stared at her, eyes wide with shock. Makayla didn’t care. She never broke eye contact.

  He took a deep breath and leaned toward her. In a low voice he said, “If you do that again, I am going to—”

  With a swift motion, she slapped him again. Hard enough that redness flared on his tanned cheek.

  After the first slap, their audience had murmured and hooted. Now, they were completely silent.

  “Or you’ll what?” she asked. Her voice seethed with contempt as she wagged her index finger half an inch from his face. “Hit me back? If you do, you’ll be kicked off the basketball team, and there goes your precious scholarship.”

  Liam fumed.

  Makayla studied Liam’s lackey, the one who had tripped the boy. She tried to think of his name . . . Justin, I think.

  “And you,” Makayla growled as Justin glared at her. “I saw you at church. What would your mom think of you treating somebody like this? Would she approve? Because I just might tell her.”

  Justin managed to shake his head, eyes pleading for her not to.

  “Girl, you need to—” Liam started.

  Makayla slapped him again. Gasps echoed from the mob.

  Liam’s jaw dropped then clenched. If Makayla hadn’t been so angry, she might have been impressed at how well his tan took the abuse.

  “You don’t get to talk!” Makayla spat. “You get to walk away. Now!”

  “Is there a problem here?” Coach Reed asked as he walked upon the scene, the brown skin of his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lighting in the hallway.

  Liam and Makayla continued to eye each other hard.

  “We were just leaving,” Justin said. He walked up to Liam and whispered something in his ear.

  Liam’s eyes remained fixed on Makayla’s. The lack of fear in her eyes challenged him to do something. Liam glanced briefly at Coach Reed before returning his gaze back to Makayla. He let out a frustrated huff, then stepped away. Justin followed, mouthing “sorry” as he left. She stared at their backs, daring them to turn around.

  “Clear this area. Now!” Coach Reed hollered.

  As the crowd began to clear, Makayla heard snickering from some of the students. She could hear her name being mentioned a few times, but she didn’t care.

  She approached the bullied boy. “Are you okay?”

  The boy picked himself off the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did,” she told him. “They’re morons.”

  He lifted his soaked bag, which continued to drip on the floor. “Maybe I can salvage some of it,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, her tone soft.

  “Ethan,” he said, sounding almost defeated.

  He opened his bag and took out what was left of a Halloween themed snow globe.

  “You brought a Halloween snow globe to school?”

  “Yeah. I brought it to show Ms. Addison.” She noted that his tone had perked up. “I have a collection.”

  “You collect snow globes?”

  He looked into her eyes as if examining something, wondering. After a moment he smiled. “Would you like to see them some day?”

  Three months later

  Makayla understood for the first time what it meant to be happy, not just the dictionary definition either. Real happiness. The term soul mate used to seem so impractical, like something out-of-touch poets or stupid girls who read teen magazines garbled about. But with Ethan it made sense. The way he looked at her, like he really saw her, all of her. The inside too.

  Makayla gazed at the clear blue skies over Shohola Lake in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. A couple of years ago she’d come here to go horseback riding, and she’d seen deer, rabbits, wild turkeys, and tracks she thought belonged to a bear. This was her favorite place in the world, and now she was able to spend time here with the person she loved.

  Ethan not only collected snow globes, he made them. Usually, he used tap water, but this was the first time Makayla had ever watched him make one with lake water.

  She shivered as she sat on a small wooden fishing dock. She looked down at her thin white sundress. It was silly of her to wear it, but she loved the colorful sunflowers all over it, and she knew Ethan loved it too. She dangled her bare toes in the freezing cold water, thrilling at the tingles that shot up her calves. Her feet were totally numb.

  “We’re actually doing this?” she asked.

  Ethan was standing in a canoe. He’d paid a guy fifty bucks to borrow it for a few hours. He grabbed his backpack from the dock and placed it carefully in the boat.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you even swim?” she asked.

  “No,” he told her with an air of confidence that did not match the answer.

  She laughed. “Are you serious!?”

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  She laughed again but noticed that the canoe guy hadn’t included lifejackets. “Why aren’t we just getting the water from the dock?”

  “It’s not real,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not fresh,” he said as he grabbed one more backpack and carefully placed it in the canoe.

  “What does that even mean?” she asked, giggling at him.

  He sighed, gazing at her. “Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” he asked. “With the sun. I mean, it’s like you’re glowing, like you’re an . . .” He trailed off, blushing.

  Makayla lowered her face and smiled softly. “What?”

  “Perfect.”

  Makayla couldn’t help the wide smile that formed on her lips. How did I get so lucky to be with someone like Ethan? A dull ache hit her in the chest, the most wonderful ache she could imagine.

  “Now,” she said, “are you going to tell me what the exactly ‘real’ water is?”

  He sighed and returned her smile. “You’re going to think this is stupid.”

  “Aw, don’t do that. Tell me,” she whined playfully.

  He carefully stood in the canoe and climbed onto the dock. He sat next to her and took her hand. “My uncle was really superstitious. He died last year. He’s the one who taught me how to make the snow globes. He used to bring me out here. He always said, ‘If you want the snow globe to be perfect, you need the water from the heart of the lake. That’s where the water is both the prettiest and the purest.’ I figured since it’s my first time out there by myself, I wanted to share that experience with you.”

  She didn’t know what to say, and her eyes glistened as she gazed at him.

  Ethan leapt to his feet and then helped Makayla stand. He stepped carefully into the canoe, making sure his weight was balanced. Then he held out his hands to help her in as well.

  Once settled, they made their way out to the “heart of the lake.” When they were at what Ethan deemed the center, he opened one of the bags and took out a jar.

  A sharp noise at the tree line made Makayla jump. Birds sang a chorus of caw-caws from high in the trees. Substantial movement coursed through the branches, the sounds of flapping wings, and a flock of small black birds flew off.

  Makayla continued gazing at the tree line and the calm serenity of the lake returned, leaving her wondering what must have spooked the birds. Whatever it was seemed to have gone.

  Looking into the water beneath her, she saw how remarkably clear it was. Ethan was right. She was about to comment on it when an open mouth bass brushed up next to the canoe before fading back into the deep water.

  “A fish! Ethan! It’s a fish!” she yelled, the excitement in her voice evident.

  “Lakes have those, you know.” Ethan winked at her.

  She gave him a leveled look, and then said, “Thank you for bringing me out here.”

  “I thought it was the perfect place,” he told her. He carefully took another jar out of the bag.

  Tilting her head, she slightly narrowed her eyes. “F
or something other than snow globes?”

  His eyes focused on the jar’s cap and twisted it off. “The first time I saw you, that day, I thought maybe you were an angel, that you’d come down to save me from those jerks. Then, when I looked into your eyes, I prayed you weren’t an angel. Or a vision. I wanted you to be real.”

  He glanced briefly at her face before turning back to the jar in his hands. “I saw your hand and couldn’t imagine not holding it. I saw your face filled with that beautiful controlled anger as you took charge and did what I couldn’t do. That’s when I told myself, I’m going to marry that girl one day.”

  Makayla’s pulse raced but she managed to smile. “That’s really sweet, but what makes you think I’m going to marry you?”

  He turned to her face.

  “Because you love me,” he said, as though it was a statement of irrefutable fact. His eyes penetrated hers. “And because I love you.”

  Her mouth opened with a small gasp.

  “I am going to marry you someday, my brave, beautiful Makayla. After we graduate college, we’re going to move in together and I’m going to spend every moment of my life loving you. You are my girlfriend, my savior, my soul mate. I love you Makayla Roberts and I want the whole world to know. I’ve never met anybody as strong as you. I’m ready to spend my life with you. Grow old. Die. Whatever. Just everything. If you will let me.”

  “Oh, Ethan. Of course I will.”

  She hurled herself forward toward him, trying to stay low in the canoe, but the boat rocked violently. She tried to steady herself but it was as if a great wave had come out of nowhere. They were both caught off guard as the canoe flipped.

  The ice-cold water shocked the air from Makayla’s lungs, and when she gasped, she took in water. Her muscles cramped and panic gripped her. She wanted to scream, to fill the water with her anger at herself for spilling them from the boat. Fear consumed her, but then her heart beat one enormous thump, adrenaline roared into her brain, and she was as calm as she had been afraid only a few seconds before, as calm as she had ever been in her life.