Destiny Calling Read online

  “That was you? My double vision?” A snag on the couch with a string jutting out suddenly captured my interest. Twirling the string on my finger as I tried to hide my disappointment. I thought the bizarre signs might’ve been Tessa somehow.

  “Yep, that was me.” Chance puffed up his narrow chest with pride. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  I nodded, but was a little disturbed to think I wasn’t entirely in control of my own actions.

  He frowned. “I wasn’t sure my efforts were going to work at all. My intent had been to get you to come to our house on your own.” He rolled his eyes. “That didn’t work, at least not the easy way. That’s why I had to bring you.”

  “You mean, when you kidnapped me?” I cocked my head.

  A blush crept up his cheeks. “Okay, maybe kidnapping you wasn’t the best idea.” His voice trailed off. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” Resting his elbows on his knees, he made his best puppy-dog face. “Please?”

  He’d used that expression at the police station when he’d charmed his way out of there. I rolled my eyes and pushed him back into the cushions of his chair.

  He pouted. “You already tried to have me arrested. Isn’t that enough?”

  “If you promise not to make that face at me again.” I couldn’t help but smile. If we’d met under different circumstances, I would’ve liked him instantly.

  “Besides, you weren’t safe that night. Otherwise, I might’ve tried a different tactic. Didn’t you feel it?”

  I remembered the animals I thought I saw and Mrs. Shaw’s bags of meat. “Are there wolves or coyotes around here?” I averted my gaze, not wanting to describe what I’d encountered when I had the flat tire. I wasn’t sure I could describe what happened without sounding crazy.

  His expression hardened. “Something like that.”

  The sliding glass door opened, Destiny stood looking at me. It was weird to meet someone else with my face.

  “Hello, Hope.”

  She spoke first, just when I’d decided I was going to say something because I didn’t want her to have the upper hand. Curses. “Hello.”

  Chance stood between Destiny and me in a protective gesture. “I thought you wanted to wait, Sis,” he said, acting like she was a fragile doll.

  Realizing I was jealous because of the protective way he was behaving toward her, irritated me more.

  “You talk too much.” Destiny placed her hand gently on the side of his face. “I’m okay.” She glided across the room with far more grace than I’d ever had. Her long skirt swirled around her ankles. A few animals remained outside, pressed up against the window, tracking her every move.

  We looked alike on the outside, but already so much was evidently different to me. Though she spoke softly, I’d heard how direct she could be the last time I was here. Her face looked as if it was used to smiling, and she didn’t have the darkness around her eyes the way I did. She wore no makeup, and her skin looked luminous.

  “She is as beautiful as you are, my dear.”

  I rolled my eyes at the voice in my head.

  Destiny ducked her head, probably thinking I’d rolled my eyes at her. She sat on the couch beside Chance and studied her hands stacked on her knee, her gaze rested everywhere but on me.

  “Hope and I were talking about our gifts.” Chance covered her hands with his and she smiled. “I told her a little about us, and she is about to tell us about her.”

  Both looked at me expectantly. As if anticipating a huge revelation, except from what I’d learned so far, they’d both made out much better than I had.

  “How come I seem to be the one with the lamest gift? I get it. My name is Hope, and I give people hope.” I shrugged. “Destiny gets images from the future, and you make people hallucinate. My gift pales in comparison, if you ask me.”

  “Oh no, you’ve got the best gift of all.” Chance leaned toward me. “You can see them. Neither Destiny nor I can.”

  “See who?” I thought maybe he meant Tessa and the mirror or whoever else might be lurking in there.

  “The Oppressors.”

  See them? The black fog and the weird residue around Griffith must be the identifying factor. I’d assumed that was from the aura of my migraines or that others might notice the fog as well, or perhaps that’s what I’d wanted to believe. At least they haven’t seen it on me then. “Who or what are the Oppressors?” The chiming of the clock reminded me I’d have to leave soon to get to work on time. I had no desire to deal with Mrs. Shaw’s wrath for tardiness.

  “They’re the bad guys.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You can see them.”

  I struggled to open the heavy back door to the Last Call. Apparently, I’m the only one who notices the odd haze surrounding the Oppressors. It must take one to know one. Despite my disappointment that Destiny and Chance didn’t share my same gift, at least they couldn’t see me for what I might be.

  I found Ruthie in the kitchen. “Chance told me only I can identify the Oppressors,” I said, before Ruthie started talking. “What good is seeing who the bad guys are, if I don’t know what to do about them?”

  Ruthie’s laugh didn’t provide me with the encouragement or advice I sought. I wasn’t sure why I kept expected her to. I sighed. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”

  “Aw, child, you’ve been around Oppressors more than you realize. They’ve always been in the world. Where do you think all the serial killers and rapists come from? Why all the prisons are overflowing? Most just don’t know what they are.” She nodded. “You do. Tonight’s nothing new.”

  “How is that a good thing? Seeing people for what they really are?” I thought about the man from the police station, who I’d figured for a pervert who stared at me when I got gas. Now I knew he wasn’t human, and maybe he knew I wasn’t either. “There are some things I don’t want to know.”

  “I know. There is a beauty in wearing blinders in life. It’s a normal condition of the planet, just not normal like you’re thinking. Their motivations aren’t human.”

  She nodded again, in what she probably considered encouragement, but to me she looked like one of those bobble heads, and that didn’t boost my confidence in the least. “But imagine knowing who the bad guys are, before they can do something bad? Think of the crimes you could prevent. But for tonight, just get your feet wet.” Ruthie winked, then walked away to open the freezer.

  I hurried after her. “Get my feet wet? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Ruthie bent down into the freezer and left me talking to her well-padded behind. “Like I told you before, just serve the drinks.” Her muffled voice echoed from the freezer.

  “I don’t mean about bartending, I mean about the Oppressors.” I stomped my foot. The noise from the bar built to a dull roar. Chief would be looking for me soon.

  Ruthie pulled herself upright from the freezer with a few packages of hamburger tucked under her arm and adjusted her glasses with the other. “I know you meant the Oppressors.” She stopped to face me. “Have you ever thought about why you felt you needed to work here? At a bar? When you’ve never bartended before?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I never did this type of work—”

  “Save it.” Ruthie held up her hand. “You never have. Anyone can see that.”

  “Hey, I’m not that bad. I did all right.”

  “You did exactly what you’re supposed to do.” The clamor from the bar continued to elevate, drowning out her words. “And you did it wonderfully.”

  She set the frozen meat down on the counter with a clatter and pulled me into a quick hug before I could step out of reach. Extending her arms, Ruthie held me at arm’s length, searching my face. “It’s the drink. It’s always been the drink that’s brought them here. They crave the booze and feed off the weary who come to drown their sorrows. It’s the perfect feeding ground for them.”

  “But there are bars everywhere. Why is this bar any different?”

  “Because we’re
at the Crossroads. Didn’t you see the masks?” Ruthie paused in her prep work. “Didn’t Tessa tell you the stories?”

  “Stories? About what?” I racked my brain. I couldn’t remember Tessa telling me stories except for insisting upon bedtime stories. It was a little weird, considering I was thirteen, but that was Tessa. Telling her I was too old did no good. She insisted, saying the stories were a special time for her. So I tolerated them, for Tessa. Doesn’t mean I listened.

  Ruthie rolled her eyes. “About the Goddess? Or the Crossroads? This is her doorway. Why do you think the whole city went to pot with all the crime?”

  “Tessa told me a lot of stories. She loved fairy tales. That’s all I thought they were, stories.”

  Ruthie put a finger to her chin, considering. “Hmmm, makes sense. Tessa gave you the information you needed while trying to protect you at the same time.” She smiled. “Pretty smart, that sister of mine. I feel bad, judging her so quickly. Tessa was helping you. She just didn’t let you know.”

  “What good does it do me if I never knew what was real or a fairy tale?” I tied my apron on.

  Ruthie grasped my shoulders and peered into my face. “Sweetie, many fairy tales start with a real story. Over the years, they grow and get distorted, so truth becomes fiction. But the information is in there.” She tapped my head. “It’ll come out. You’ll see.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of it. I don’t have the best memory.” I’d spent most of my childhood blocking out unpleasant memories and making ones up to replace them.

  “Land’s sake child,” Ruthie said. “I’m gonna have to bring up my old books I used to let Chance and Destiny read when they were little. They loved Don’t Kiss That Frog, and of course, Witch’s Spells Don’t Have to Smell. But my favorite always was Magic for Munchkins.” She smiled.

  The noise from the bar poured in as Chief stuck his head in the kitchen. “Where the hell is Helen?” His gaze found me. “There you are. Git on out here.”

  “It’s Hope.” Why would anyone fear him for harboring secrets when he can’t even remember my name?

  Chief shook his head and retreated. “That’s right, I been hopin’ you’d get your can out here and get to work. ’Stead of all this gossiping of you women folk.”

  The door smacked shut, dimming the volume from the bar.

  Ruthie shrugged, and then shook her finger at me. “We have an advantage.”

  “Why?”

  “That feel-good aura’s always around you. It’s like a drug to the Oppressors. They can’t resist it. The nights you’ve been here, we’ve pulled in more Oppressors than ever.” Ruthie began peeling potatoes. “Should be good for tips.”

  Ruthie was peeling the potatoes at a high rate of speed, leaving me concerned she wasn’t slipping layers of skin in with them. “Oh, great. I’m glad to be used as bait to help out business.”

  Ruthie chopped potatoes, tossing them into a bowl of water. “Oh, it’s not just for business. Sure, Chief’s thrilled about that. But the more who drink our liquor, the better it is for everyone. They’re pacified and don’t prey on the regulars. Then if you’re the one serving them, well, you provide them with something like a balm for their burning hate. It’s like you’re calming the savage beast.” Ruthie nodded, satisfied she’d expressed herself well.

  I was still confused. “So I’m to get them to drink themselves to death?”

  “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. You just keep the drinks flowing to keep ’em happy. They’ll feel too good to worry about preying on someone else’s misery.”

  ****

  Walking out into the hall, I spared a glance into the bar area, which had emptied out but for Bob. Though Chief would never admit it, I thought he let Bob sleep here some nights. I stopped in front of the exit to the back parking lot, bracing myself. Drake had been at the bar tonight, but had hung back. I’d sensed his eyes on me and felt his tentative probing to try to get into my head a few times. I think he was toying with me, to see how much I could resist him. That, or he was trying to be nice—as nice as a reptile could be—which made me all the more uneasy.

  When I pushed the door open, the cool night air flowed in and lifted my hair with its caress. My intent was to make a beeline for my car. Hopefully, if Drake lurked anywhere out here and I didn’t make eye contact nothing would happen. I’d debated about offering him a bottle of beer with the absurd chance it would do any good considering Ruthie’s warped advice. But I wanted to deal with Chief’s anger over stealing booze about as much as I wanted to deal with an Oppressor.

  I stepped out into the night, and darkness enveloped me. Obviously, Chief didn’t put much emphasis on safety, because the one light in the parking lot was broken.

  Footsteps rapidly approached from my right. All fatigue forgotten, I broke into a run.

  “Hope, wait.”

  I jammed the key in and yanked open the car door. Sliding into the seat, I spared a glance. It looked like Chance. He needed to find a better way to approach me rather than stalking me in the parking lot in the wee hours of the morning.

  “Don’t go yet. I need to talk to you.” He rushed up to the window.

  Hunkering down on the seat until I was satisfied it was him blocking the view, lanky build, rooster hairstyle, all that was missing was the sappy smile, I lowered my window a few inches. “What do you want? You have to stop chasing me in parking lots.” I glared at him. “I’ve had a rough evening, and I’m going home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “You think you’ve had a rough evening.” Another man, who looked exactly like Chance, walked up behind him. So two of them were standing side by side.

  “You have to be kidding me.” Unwilling to try and figure out which one, if either, was my brother, I put the car in drive and took off. Leaving any chance for error in the dust.

  When I arrived at my apartment, I jogged up the stairs, stumbled on the top step, and dropped my keys into the pile of snow outside my door. “Great.” I knelt down, hoping the clear night stars would give me the light to find the keys. No such luck. And my fingers quickly numbed since I’d forgotten my gloves.

  A noise startled me, and I jerked my head up. The darkness hindered my vision, but I didn’t see anyone or anything.

  Nothing except that the window to my apartment was ajar.

  I stood slowly, peering around the porch. There was no way I’d left it open. Besides it being cold today, Tercet could get out through the screen. It irritated me how she continuously tried to escape. I consoled myself into thinking she wanted to visit with Stinker, not that she didn’t want to be with me.

  The snow amplified my steps as I walked to the window, standing on tiptoe to peer in. The furniture and coffee table were visible. Unusual lumps became pillows, and a tall ominous shadow in the corner became the floor lamp as my vision adjusted to the darkness.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  Shivering in the cold, I debated on whether to continue to search for the keys. If I went in, I could turn on the porch light. And avoid any other things that could be out here that go bump in the night. I gripped the windowsill and prepared to hoist myself in.

  I tried to shimmy through the window, but I’d worn my large parka. So instead, I lay wedged between the sill and the glass. Rocking from side to side loosened the window’s grip, and I finally burst through like a cork released from a champagne bottle, landing on the floor in an awkward tangle of arms and legs. So much for stealth. I quickly righted to a squatting position to stare into the darkness for any sign of an intruder.

  Opening the closet, I reached in, feeling along the top shelf. Surely, Ruthie had something to use as a weapon. Although she probably knew when she’d need one before she did. I scowled.

  Groping through cleaning products, I picked up a canister, which produced a brief hissing sound and I coughed at the gust of lavender scent. Perhaps air freshener could be used as a poor substitute for pepper spray.

  Pulling out a broom, I lifted it like
a bat and prepared to walk through the apartment. With one bedroom, a bath, and the kitchen that opened to the living room, the inspection wouldn’t take long.

  I snuck a peek around the corner into the kitchen and flicked on the light. The fluorescent light flickered before illuminating the tiny nook of a kitchen. I grimaced. The most frightening things there were the crusty dishes piled in the sink. Ruthie would kill me if she knew I’d left the kitchen like that.

  I jumped when the doorbell rang, fumbling to switch the light off to cast the room and the dishes into darkness.

  The silence dragged on. The door chimed again. I crept across the living room and pressed my eye to the peephole.

  Chance stood there, shifting from foot to foot as he glanced out into the darkness. His licorice-black hair lightly peppered with snowflakes.

  I opened the door a crack, leaving the chain intact. “What?”

  “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”

  “How do I know it’s you?”

  Chance lifted his jacket and pulled down the corner of his jeans, exposing his matching birthmark. “Satisfied?”

  A crash came from the bathroom.

  I slammed the door shut, fumbled to unhook the chain, and opened the door to Chance’s startled expression. “It’s freezing out, why don’t you come in?”

  “What? Okay.”

  Grabbing his arm, he stumbled as I hauled him in. I glanced down the hall, then back to Chance.

  He followed my gaze. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I whispered, unable to take my attention from the hallway. I never was a good liar.

  He studied me and leaned closer. “Why are you whispering?”

  I lowered my voice even further. “When I came home, my living room window was open halfway.”

  He furrowed his brow as he took in the broom I aimed at the offending window.