Destiny

by Amanda Lynn Petrin

  “How do you explain Angela and Jackson?” I asked.

  “Angela was born before Terrence died, and the twins were adopted,” he reminded me. “And as far as Jackson...maybe your line is different.”

  “We can have kids with dead people?” I asked, instantly regretting it. “I don’t mean it like that, but after you first die, your life is put on hold until you accomplish your purpose.”

  “It’s a fair question,” he assured me. “It might be because of the Prophecy. There also seems to be a lack of certainty involving Gifteds. Some get to live out their lives when they finish their task, others fade away. Death gives you new powers or takes old ones away...I really don’t know,” he got pensive.

  “The book has a whole section on controlling your magic instead of letting it control you. I’ve only skimmed it so far, but they do suggest moonstone,” I changed the subject for him.

  “There’s hope for me yet,” he smiled before a timer went off. He took cheesy garlic bread out of the oven, then went to scoop some pesto-parmesan tortellini onto two plates.

  “It smells like an Italian restaurant,” I breathed it all in.

  “I figured you just had your birthday and you didn’t get any pasta, so…”

  “It’s perfect,” I assured him.

  “How was it today?” he asked, bringing the plates to the table so we could eat.

  “Which part?” I blew on my tortellini before tasting it. It would be wrong to say I could die happy now, but the sentiment was there.

  “Did it tire you out, were you weakened by it... I guess all of it,” he looked down into his plate.

  “It’s weird,” I tried to find a way to explain it. “When we stopped, I felt like I ran a marathon, as you could see,” I referenced the sweaty mess I became. “But at the same time, it was like my body was used to running marathons and I could do more. It was sort of outside of me, but inside me at the same time.”

  “I guess it’s like my speed,” he mostly said to himself, taking a piece of the garlic bread.

  “How does your speed work?” We had never discussed it.

  “I run in the mornings, to stay healthy and clear my head, but eventually I need to stop, because my legs are on fire. I need to rest and eat and give it a day. If I’m not consistent, my legs will be sore for days when I get back into it.”

  “That’s just regular running,” I pointed out.

  “I know. When I’m using my speed, it’s the same muscles, and I’m using them more intensely, but I could keep going for as long as I need to, without getting tired, and my legs will be fine.”

  “That’s really weird.”

  “The only time I can’t sustain my speed like that is after I die, before it recovers completely.”

  “I guess this is a stupid question, but did you run away a lot as a kid?” I got a smile while he finished his bite.

  “My family was not wealthy, so if I wanted to impress others, I had to work twice as hard and get more done in the same time frame than anyone else. I was incredibly hard on myself and always pushed to be faster, so I could earn the respect others were born with.”

  “It wasn’t about the running.”

  “Nope,” he agreed. “I can’t outrun a bullet, or flick it out of the way, but it is a bit like time slows down around me when I’m in it. I could write or swim or start an assembly line with it instead. The running just comes in handy.”

  “To save the damsel in distress.”

  “I believe you’ve more than proved that title inaccurate.”

  “Don’t hand in your plate of armor just yet.”

  “I’ll always be there for you Luce,” he assured me.

  “Until we defeat the Big Bad,” I agreed. A shiver ran through me.

  Gabriel smiled instead of telling me it wasn’t ever likely to happen.

  “This is delicious,” I told him.

  “I very briefly worked in a restaurant,” he shared.

  “Really?” I did not buy it.

  “I was tired of all the stress and wanted something insignificant for a change.”

  “So you decided to be a chef?”

  “I was supposed to chop vegetables, a mindless task I could do in my sleep. Chopping vegetables turned into pressing garlic and peeling potatoes and making pesto and… restaurants are a lot more stressful than you would think.”

  “Of course they are. How long did you last?”

  “A little less than two weeks, but I learnt their pesto and alfredo sauces…”

  “And mixed the two together,” I understood how he got his pesto so cheesy.

  “My Gift should have been sharing it with the world,” he teased.

  “Definitely,” I agreed. “What other jobs have you done?”

  “Way too many to count. I migrate around the same general idea, but you can’t stay too long when you look like this,” he shrugged. I wanted to ask more, but didn’t get the feeling he wanted to talk about it.

  “I see nothing wrong with the way you look,” I teased.

  “Some people managed to look past my appearance and see my worth, but they were few and far between. Probably my fault though. I wasn’t very trusting.”

  “A bit of a lone wolf?” I tied my hair into a messy knot at the top of my head. The oven, the stove, the pasta, and the summer air were all contributing to make the kitchen very hot.

  “Not on purpose. One of my first jobs outside of the family was as a day laborer in a factory. All the other men got close, eating lunch together, drinking at night...making friends. I, on the other hand, spent my lunches getting ahead on work, and didn’t need to see them in the evenings because if I wanted someone to drink with, I had Embry.”

  “Loyal with the one best friend.” It was like me with Keisha, only that wasn’t entirely by choice.

  “It wasn’t intentional. I just didn’t feel a need to make friends, which seems to be something I actually need to work at to achieve.”

  “You got Terrence,” I argued.

  “That was all him.”

  “You’ve spent the past three centuries not getting close to anyone because you already had a best friend, even if you weren’t currently talking to him?” I verified.

  “When you put it that way...some people managed to get in. And it was more subconscious on my part.”

  “I am really glad you’re back to being friends then.”

  “When did you find out about him and Beth?” he asked.

  “I saw it when we first got here. But I was pregnant with Jack when I fell out of the tree. Beth was,” I corrected myself.

  “That must be weird.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “It’s really weird and surreal and terrible and incredibly awesome, all at the same time.”

  “Do you think there’s a point to it?”

  “I feel like there has to be, not that I can see it. None of the others had memories like this? Not even once?”

  “The only ones with supernatural abilities were Beth and Annabelle. Beth never confided in me...about anything, and Annabelle was the original, so there wouldn’t have been memories for her.”

  Once we were done with supper, I made cookies. We had all the ingredients, except chocolate chips, so I used a pack of smarties instead.

  “Not going to warn me about salmonella?” I asked when Gabriel came over and ate one of the balls of cookie dough I had on a cookie sheet while the oven preheated.

  “I think that was a real threat when it started, but things don’t go bad anymore, they last forever. If Gaston eats five dozen raw eggs for breakfast, what can it hurt if you add some milk, sugar, and flour?” he asked, discovering the much larger quantity of dough I left in the mixing bowl.

  “Was that a Beauty and the Beast reference?” I was shocked. “I wouldn’t peg you as the fairytale romance type.”

  “Are you kidding? I was the hopeless romantic who wanted nothing more than to settle down and raise a family.”

  “That was your dream?” I asked.<
br />
  “Still is. I just stopped believing it would come true a couple hundred years ago,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

  “I thought you were waiting...” I was leaning with my back against the oven, but I don’t think that was why the room felt like it was a hundred degrees. Gabriel hadn’t stepped back since his last dough venture, so I was acutely aware of how close he was.

  “I’ve known a long time that she wasn’t coming back,” he argued. “It’s probably the first rule in your magic books.”

  “You can’t bring the dead back,” I agreed, more from movies than the books.

  “I grew up and understood that the things I wanted back then, that I would want now...getting married, having kids, raising a family and being happy...they’re not real. They’re fairytales.”

  “You’ve got a pretty good heart from what you accidentally let show. And you’re not horrible to look at. I mean, you might have to adopt, but it could still happen,” I told him nervously, putting my hand on top of his.

  “I’m broken, Lucy,” he argued, looking into my eyes with that intensity only he could bring, where it felt like he could see down to my very soul. “You wouldn’t want me,” he cut through the subtext of our conversation, but didn’t look away from me.

  “You don’t have to be,” I looked right back into his eyes, the black eyes that still managed to have depth and kindness to them. My heart was beating a mile a minute and he was so close...it was like time was frozen, with just the two of us in the kitchen, and nothing else mattered. I could hear my heart as he came closer, the electricity tangible, before he pulled away and walked off without another word.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gabriel didn’t come back, so I went upstairs and got ready for bed. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and wished I didn’t look like her. But then I wouldn’t look like me either.

  I read a few more chapters of the book on magic, learning that emotions, like love, were the most powerful, and that love, hatred, and fear could deeply impact spells and potions. Which was great for me, because I happened to be feeling all of them at the moment.

  I really wanted to track Clara and Deanna, or even Keisha, just to feel them and know they were okay, but this wasn’t an emergency, and I wouldn’t want people peeking into my life when I thought I was alone.

  I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep for the longest time, finally deciding to open my window to get a little fresh air. That helped, but it would be a long time until I got to sleep.

  “You’re killing it, Luce.” Sam was sitting in the corner of the room, his face beaming with pride.

  “How are you here?” I asked, looking around for Ingrid. She hadn’t haunted me yet, but I had often wondered why she wasn’t constantly hounded by people asking her to bring back their loved ones, at least for a little while. It might drive her crazy in the long run, but she could have an imaginary Beth hang out with her all day, looking, feeling and sounding like the real thing.

  “I’m always here for you. Until the end of time,” he brought up the promise he made me after his dad’s funeral.

  “I’m dreaming,” I understood, wanting to run to him and take advantage of him being there, even in a dream, but dreams tended to turn into nightmares when Sam was in them lately.

  “He can’t get us here,” he said, reading my thoughts.

  “He can. He does all the time,” I argued.

  “Not tonight,” he assured me.

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I’ve got you. If anyone bad shows up, you can freeze them or blow them up...you’ve got this,” he smiled.

  “I appreciate your confidence.”

  “But you don’t trust it.”

  “I want to.”

  “But you don’t want to be responsible if someone gets hurt. You would rather freeze or fail at some other kind of self-defense.”

  “You’re acting like I would rather die…”

  “Wouldn’t you?” he called me on it.

  “If I could go back and take your place…”

  “I would never let you.”

  “I would do it. A million times,” I said over him.

  “I know you would, but I’m the big brother, so I couldn’t let you.”

  “They were after me. They wouldn’t have been anywhere near you if it wasn’t for me.”

  “But I was always going to do whatever I could to protect you.”

  “You had a family. Deanna and Clara will never forgive me.”

  “And you’re mad at me,” he called me on it.

  “I’m not…” I looked at him and knew he was right. “Of course I’m mad at you. You left me here and... you died for me.”

  “I didn’t just die for you,” he tried to downplay it.

  “You fought and died so they wouldn’t get me. Now I have to go home and tell your wife and daughter that I’m the reason you’re gone…”

  “And you can’t give up,” he said, a big reason why I was mad at him. “I died protecting you, so if you die, it’s like I died for nothing. You can’t give up when things get hard or refuse to do the spells that scare you, because I died so you could live, and now you have to live.”

  “I hate you,” I said, my eyes full of tears.

  “I love you too,” he opened his arms so I could go in for a hug.

  “Are you only okay with this because you’re a figment of my imagination?”

  “No, I’m pissed off as hell,” he said, his red hair glistening in the moonlight, but I saw a hint of his mother’s fierceness in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, mostly for causing his demise, but also for asking and upsetting him.

  “The difference is that I’m not mad at you. I don’t blame you for any of it.”

  “Not a single thing?” I called him on his lie.

  “Silly things that don’t matter anymore, like you and Deanna watching that doctor show without me when you know I can’t admit that I like it. For growing up so fast and making me feel old. For those times when Clara asks you to read her the bedtime story instead of me,” he put his hand under my chin to make me look at him. “But I don’t lose sight of who I’m really mad at. I died because if Donovan got what he wanted, he was going to kill Clara and Deanna, and everyone like them. He’s the real bad guy. That’s who I’m mad at for a lot of things.”

  “I miss you. So much.” It didn’t need to be said, but I needed to tell him.

  “I miss you too,” he agreed. “Do you think you can forgive me for leaving you alone and not letting you take the easy way out of this?”

  I sighed and paused, considering it. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “Not really,” he agreed.

  “Then you’re forgiven,” I gave him a sad smile, knowing he wasn’t the one who needed forgiveness.

  “Then I can give you your birthday present.”

  “You really don’t have to,” I told him, pretty sure I couldn’t take things with me from my dream. “Just seeing you...this is perfect,” I said of the hug.

  “The present’s better,” he assured me, leading me back over to the bed, where he proceeded to tuck me in, securing the corners like he hadn’t done for me in years. “Are you ready?” he asked, sitting on the edge.

  I wanted to say no, because I knew he would be leaving as soon as he was done, but I was worried he would have to leave anyway, so I nodded.

  “I forgive you,” he said, looking into my eyes so I could see he meant it. “For everything you have or will ever do. I forgive you,” he kissed the top of my head, then stepped back, out of the light, and was gone.

  I woke with a start and recognized the room, but it suddenly felt empty without Sam in it. Or I guess I felt empty. I saw on the alarm clock that it was 2 am, so I tried to get back to sleep. Then I heard it.

  “Lucy!” It was Sam’s voice, as clear as when he was sitting in front of me in the dream, but it was coming from outside the window.

  “Sam?
” I got out of bed and went to see for myself. It was one thing to talk to him in a dream, but another to hear him when I was awake.

  “Come on!” he called with a smile, standing beneath the window.

  “You can’t be here,” my brain tried to process what was going on.

  “But I am. Why don’t you come see for yourself?” he suggested.

  “Let me see your eyes,” I called down, knowing the guys would kill me if I fell into a trap.

  “Green, like yours.” He stood under a porch light and opened them wide, so I could see.

  “I’m coming,” I told him, putting on the riding boots from Charlie and a sweater, because that was all I had at the door.

  “Took you long enough,” Sam sounded and looked exactly like himself.

  “This is one of those things where you wake up but you’re still dreaming,” I called him on it as if he were the one who tricked my brain into thinking I woke up.

  “That does happen sometimes,” he agreed.

  “You should visit like this more often,” I told him.

  “How will you miss me if I never go away?”

  “I don’t want to miss you.”

  “Come on,” he put out his hand. I followed him over to the stables, but then we walked around them towards the woods, and the swamps.

  “It’s faster by horse,” I suggested.

  “I’ve never been a fan,” he argued.

  It was true. He was super allergic to any kind of animal. When Deanna found an abandoned puppy in the yard, we had to hide him from Clara and find a new home, because there was no way we’d ever be able to keep him.

  “What adventure are you taking me on now?” I asked, glad I chose the boots. It would have been hard to keep up otherwise.

  “It’s a surprise,” he smiled, daring me to figure it out.

  “I’m not the biggest fan of surprises.”

  “You’ll like this one.” He picked up the pace and I started to see how much easier it was for Donner to hop over obstacles, like overturned trees, than it was for me to climb over them.

  I wiped my muddy hands off on the back of my boxer shorts, where I usually dried them.