Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3)

by Kinsley Burke

  “Kiara?” Andrew asked. “I assume you would have called if you’ve been contacted by the demon?”

  “The only evil being I’ve had the displeasure of seeing during the past few days is Damon Reed.”

  Wilcox lurched in his seat, and for a second I thought he intended to stand. Thick, dark hair was disheveled, and weary eyes were focused on me. The unkempt look was out of place for the in-control-of-every-blasted-thing detective, and I had to wonder what had gotten under his skin. He cleared his throat before asking, “What did Reed want?”

  “To taunt me.” I checked for a response from Andrew. “The Thirteen has given up on Aunt Kate. They’ve found a new victim to play with instead.”

  “What do you mean by play?”

  The dead, vacant gaze of Jane haunted me. I continued, “I think to control me. Isn’t that why they wanted my aunt? Well, that and to use her to find out more about me, such as if I’m the prophecy. I don’t think Damon and his buddies want to mess with the coven where you’ve placed Aunt Kate so they’ve found someone new. A woman named Jane who works at a bank located over on High Ridge Street.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  “Compulsion.” I met Andrew’s gaze. “She’s under compulsion and will do whatever Damon tells her to do. She would never admit to being held hostage and wouldn’t leave with you even if you showed up holding your badge.”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  My head shook slowly. “No.”

  “Then trust that she will be fine.”

  Better be. I glanced around the room. “Back to my question… how am I to use this dagger if I can’t even touch it?”

  “I will use it,” Emma said.

  “Will you be with me everywhere I go?”

  “If there is the need, yes. Perhaps, though, we can determine who we’re after and devise a plan of attack.”

  “Who’s to come up with this strategy? You?” Tristan asked, gaze hard.

  Emma let out a soft breath before her lips curved up into an insincere smile. “Let’s first figure out who they’re after and then analyze the situation.”

  Damn. If there was any tension going on in the room between Wilcox and me, it was totally being overshadowed.

  “Uh…” I cleared my throat, mind at warp speed for a distraction question, and I stood. Standing at that moment was either a brilliant diffusion tactic or really, really stupid. It placed me in-between the two feuding immortals. “Tristan, do you remember when we first met?”

  “How could I forget? That ghost was—”

  “The specifics aren’t important.”

  “I would like to hear this story,” Andrew said. “It sounds intriguing every time it’s brought up.”

  I shot the detective a glare. He grinned in total innocence. Mr. Laid back had a streak of mischievous in him. No wonder he got along so well with Wilcox. I turned back to Tristan. “You told me I wasn’t a cambion.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Your blood. Each species has a distinct smell, and yours doesn’t exactly smell of demon.”

  “What does it smell like?”

  Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s peculiar, and not something I’ve ever encountered before.”

  “Could it be unique because she’s the prophecy?” Wilcox asked.

  I couldn’t help but glance back over to the detective I was supposed to be ignoring. Again taking note of the slumped shoulders and dark shadows beneath his eyes. The man seemed extremely tired, and he wasn’t taking charge of the conversation at all as I was accustomed to him doing—especially when pertaining to me.

  “Perhaps,” Tristan said, responding to the question about the prophecy. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Why do you ask, Kiara?” Trashae spoke up for the first time since I’d entered.

  Dark, intelligent eyes studied me, and I stumbled back and sat in my chair, trying to keep muscles relaxed into casual. “I was curious. That’s all.”

  “Have you learned more about Aerowen?”

  “Who’s that?” Tristan took his glare off Emma and returned to his post at the bar. The man was tense, and I was certain at the strike of a match, he’d blow. There had been no easy flirtations or sexy smiles since I’d entered the apartment.

  “My ancestor,” I said, answering.

  “Aerowen is the one who I’ve mentioned to you, Tristan.” Trashae stood from her chair and walked over to stand before me. “I think perhaps Kiara could be a reincarnation of her. Aerowen was very powerful, and the Druids believed in reincarnation. I think it is possible the prophecy was of herself, in another time. And now this is the time.”

  Swallowing, I bit my lip. Eithine should be brought up, I knew. It was an interesting theory, and one I felt had merit. Aerowen was Druid, not demon, but her daughter was a mix of the two. I was a mix of the two. But I held back my thoughts… not yet ready to voice them until I knew more.

  Trust. Goosebumps on my skin pricked as I took a survey of the room. Right then opening up was the last thing I wanted. Tristan and I still had unresolved issues to work out. Emma, I didn’t know. Wilcox, I couldn’t even think about without developing a headache. Andrew was… well, I didn’t have any grievances against the man right then. Trashae… I’d driven a wedge between any budding friendships between the two of us due to the Hadley thing. Speaking of…

  “Have you figured out how to fix this?” I asked.

  “Fix what?”

  “This reality. I want the old one back.”

  Trashae’s eyelids drifted closed, and with her standing above me, she appeared as a parent trying to gain patience while I was acting stupid. Except she wasn’t my parent, and I was in the right regarding this particular situation. She was the person in the wrong. Never had I asked for this type of meddling in my life. Andrew had taken it upon himself… perhaps I was vexed with the man after all.

  I stood up and faced Trashae. “This warped reality didn’t change anything for the better. The members of The Thirteen are still after me. A demon killing Irish women has either placed me on his hit list or is playing a sick, twisted game with me now. The only successful thing you’ve accomplished is keeping Maude off my back regarding the Bennett wedding.”

  “Kiara, I explained that something worse could shift if I attempt this again. A balance must be maintained.”

  “You also said you were contacting a man in Spain with similar powers for help with what to do. Where is he?”

  “Kiara,” Andrew said. “Trashae is only trying to help.”

  My gaze landed on the detective. “I understand. I don’t think there was any malice behind what she attempted to do. However, her plan failed, and now we need to reverse it and go back to the way things were before.”

  “Can you not live your life in this reality in order to avoid the risks?” Trashae asked. “We live in altered realities all the time, only with this instance, you recognize a difference. Not much adjusted to this new reality, and it’s safer to leave things as they are.”

  I glared into the woman’s face, reminding myself that she didn’t know my family, or what taking Hadley away from me had meant. My head shook “No. We have to meet tomorrow morning at the restaurant to discuss Natalie’s engagement dinner. Figure out a way to fix my life by then, or I’ll figure it out myself.”

  Stunned silence surrounded the room. Tristan stared at me with an expression that made me think he was mentally reliving the Monday night fight on his rooftop. Unease radiated in the room… which was stupid. I wouldn’t hurt any of these people. I couldn’t harm any human willingly. Except for Damon. And perhaps Tristan… but only after he’d attempted to kill me first.

  Squaring my shoulders, I stormed out the front door. While my personality had always gotten me into sticky situations over the years, I was a lover and not a fighter. Throughout high school, my tiffs with Lacey had never been full-on confrontations. Nemesis numero uno would declare war on me, and I’d attempt to keep
out of the direct line of fire all the while bitching to Hadley about the evil witch who pretended to be our class president. The only exception to conflict back then was the night Hadley had nearly been raped. But now…

  Now I didn’t care. Lately, I’d had lots of practice time with altercations where I had to be both tough and demanding in order to keep my butt out of Hell. Confrontation was on. Trashae had messed with my life, and that was one area I was determined to have back in this crazy world.

  I only hoped it didn’t come down to me trying to fix every damned thing.

  Chapter 26

  Hadley decided in sixth grade that she would be our high school class valedictorian. A movie had prompted that decision. The female lead had been a high school student who graduated at the top of her class. Only a minor part of the story, yet it had been the only takeaway Hadley had when we’d left the movie theater. As for me? I’d exited and headed directly toward a book store to purchase every single teen magazine published. Images of the male lead from the summertime blockbuster had graced my bedroom walls for the next twenty-four months—until I discovered an even cuter teen Hollywood heartthrob to replace the pictures of the first guy.

  Eleventh grade had almost put a nix into Hadley’s established plans. A history teacher by the name of Mrs. Welch was the culprit—a woman so ancient, most students assumed she had lived through everything she taught, and the daily lectures in class were actually personal stories being discussed. The War of 1812 was the topic of dispute. Hadley and Mrs. Welch didn’t see eye to eye regarding the American analyzation of the war versus the British. I’d thought for sure Hadley would flunk the class in her stubborn persistence that she was correct in her version of history.

  Weeks went by where I was punished with no hanging out with my BFF at the mall on Saturdays or stopping by for ice cream after school. Heck, even our nightly gossip fests via telephone ceased to exist thanks to Hadley’s determination to prove herself right. Her afternoons were spent in libraries all across the city. Her nights, sneaking into her father’s home office after she was supposed to be in bed to use his computer for further research. In the end, Hadley wrote a forty-two-page report complete with full citations explaining her viewpoints, and where Mrs. Welch’s opinion went wrong. Hadley placed the dissertation on the teacher’s desk and received an A for the semester.

  Rumor had it the teacher began requiring papers on the topic every year thereafter. It probably explained why, during our senior year, the junior class students egged Hadley’s car in the high school parking lot after the War of 1812 discussion began in Mrs. Welch’s history class.

  What I’d learned from Hadley was if something needed to be changed, research was the key… to learn the subject inside and out, so I knew the strengths for my position and where there were weaknesses for me to circumvent. Current subject under investigation: reality warping. It was a topic that, until meeting Trashae, I hadn’t realized was humanly possible. And, unfortunately, the woman didn’t even appear to be very knowledgeable about her own powers. I woke up before the sun, and both my tired eyes and I poured over research to learn how warping happened so I could instruct Trashae about how to clean up her freakin’ mess. Because today was the day I was getting my best friend back. Doubts were strong that Trashae would show up to the restaurant with an actual plan of action at the ready, so it was up to me to correct her screw-up. And that was why I’d spent two hours on a way-too-early Friday morning studying physics.

  Yup… physics. Ugh. A total wrong direction from my college smarts and I wasn’t understanding a damn thing about matter and molecule manipulation. What I’d gleaned after ten billion Internet searches was that in order to distort reality, the electromagnetic field needed to blur, shift, and then reform into different tangible photons. The question was, how to produce protons and once produced, how to manipulate them into the reality I desired. The most important question of all… had I even understand what I hoped I did?

  I was in dire need of a physicist to join Team Kiara. A Craigslist ad needed to be placed. Pronto. Compensation would be the acknowledgment of helping to save the world from the evils down below. Certainly, the resumes would come pouring in after I placed such a listing.

  Rubbing at my eyes, I glanced at the clock. Eight forty-five. I needed to be at work by nine, and to the restaurant to meet up with Trashae by ten. This day wasn’t starting out in my favor. The number one question I needed an answer to—besides the science—was what expectations Maude had of me that day. She was already pissed about my multiple disappearing acts. Being at work on time wasn’t going to be optional thanks to the already late hour.

  Importance was placed on anything Bennett-wedding related. Who was next on the priority list—after Desiree, of, course? Bridgette. Decision made, I grabbed my phone and shot off a quick message. Additional research on Bridgette Reynolds was required prior to Maude’s big consultation with her on Monday morning, and I’d be in the office directly after the restaurant meeting with Trashae. That sounded like a valid excuse to be away from my reception desk. Now to recall some important life-altering detail to present the fake psychic with before Bridgette’s arrival.

  Heat hit the room, and I glanced over to spot an oversized beast. One whose appearances had become less and less of late. He and HG had bonded, and I had zero problems with sharing my hellhound.

  “Where have you been?” I asked. Hellhound’s tongue rolled out of a large mouth as he gave me his happy pant. “Oh, so you think you’re forgiven for burning up my reports the other day, do you?”

  I knew the hound understood the English language, so it was an intentional ignore when the beast’s head plopped down onto his plate-sized paws, and his eyes slammed shut. A position I’d become quite accustomed to seeing whenever he did show: asleep.

  Lazy beast.

  Maneuvering around the hound, not daring to step too close to his flames, I gave one last thoughtful glance at my laptop. Prayers were abundant that hot steam would open up my mind, allowing me to absorb all of the cryptic information I’d just read on my computer, and restructure it into a logical plan of action. Then I hit the shower.

  Trashae was already at the restaurant when I arrived. She’d planted herself outside the doors, and I had a strong feeling I wasn’t getting past until she had her say.

  “Kiara, we need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do. Have you figured out how to change things back?”

  “I have told you, I do not want to take the risk.”

  “You gamble all of the time. Each time you alter things, you’re taking a risk.”

  “First off, this isn’t something I do all the time. Second, Ty, Andrew, and I discussed it. We agree things should be left as they are.”

  I shifted my stance, the sun casting a hard glare into my eyes. “Well, I disagree, and this is my life under discussion.”

  “I’m sorry, Kiara.”

  Realization dawned. “This is because I’m the Fáithsine isn’t it?”

  “We can’t do anything that could affect the prophecy. You should understand it’s too important. When this change didn’t go as we’d planned, we decided it was best to not try again.”

  “Why do I have a feeling this discussion took place between the three of you before last night?” Like back when I was still on speaking terms with Wilcox?

  “This is for your own good.”

  Trashae had never planned to right her wrong. The woman had basically admitted it by not answering the question. She had been stringing me along… with both Wilcox and Andrew by her side. “To make certain I understand you, if I were anyone other than who I am, you’d attempt to change everything back?”

  Trashae glanced away. “Yes.”

  I stood in silence, only because the shock of her reasoning left my brain scattered and unable to articulate words to speak. But as soon as I could…

  “We need to go inside,” Trashae said, reaching for the door. “Please know that I really am sorry I can’t help you
.”

  My jaw clamped shut. It was the best response I could give. Either that or open my mouth and see if harsh words were yet capable of spilling out, telling the woman my precise thoughts on the matter.

  The restaurant hadn’t yet opened for the lunch hour, but already there was activity when we stepped inside.

  “I have an appointment with Derek Tate,” Trashae said, stopping a passing server.

  “Your name, please?”

  “Trashae Johnson.”

  “It’ll only be a moment, Ms. Johnson. Mr. Tate is dealing with a vendor in the back.”

  The young man walked off, and I spotted seating near the bar and drifted that way. Trashae followed.

  “I wanted to speak with you about your Druid abilities.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “You need to learn your power over nature.”

  “Again, I don’t have that kind of power. I can see future events, and now I can apparently manipulate them. That’s all.”

  “Kiara…” Trashae said in the patronizing mom voice I detested. “Your focus is only on the demon side of you. What makes you special is that you’re also an ancient Druid, and you can control nature. Have you even attempted?”

  “Attempted what? Druid powers? What type of control over nature do they even have?” Whenever I thought of the Druids, I pictured Stonehenge and long, hooded robes.

  “As I said, Druids can control nature. You should be able to possess that control as well.” Trashae took a seat next to me. “Especially oak.”

  “You’re speaking of a tree, correct?”

  “Yes, and parts of the tree, such as acorns and mistletoe, were important uses in ceremony.”

  “I don’t understand how this is a power. What am I to do, pluck things off tree branches while chanting?”

  “The Druids are one with nature, and some things in nature draw out more power than others.”

  Nature, nature, nature. Could the woman provide actual specifics? I looked Trashae in the eye and tried again. “Like what? What is it with nature they do?”