Destiny Calling (27 page)

“Let me spell it out for you. This rapist.” He held up his hands and made air quotations around the words. “This rapist is probably my father.”

“Your father? That’s ludicrous. Mom was already pregnant. The rapist wouldn’t be your father.”

He had the same crazy look on his face I’d seen when I visited Griffith’s mother. I wasn’t getting through to him. “Tell him, Tessa. Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

I didn’t hear any immediate response in support of this, like I’d hoped. The one confirming Chance was overreacting. Tessa twisted her lips, obviously biding her words. Chance had noticed her expression as well.

“Tessa?” I said. “Tell him mom was already pregnant when she was raped.”

“Yes, she was pregnant.” Tessa’s eyes bulged behind her glasses.

“With how many babies?” Chance demanded.

“What? What are you talking about?” I wished I’d taken more time to learn about my family instead of spending most of my time trying to learn about the Oppressors. Maybe I would’ve been able to follow along better.

“How many babies?” Chance emphasized each word and gave Tessa his full attention.

She cringed back under his scrutiny. “I’m not sure. You know technology isn’t like it used to be. They didn’t do many sonograms, and even when they did they weren’t as accurate. Sometimes in multiples a baby could be hiding behind another baby or the doctor doesn’t find the heartbeat because he doesn’t know to look for any more.”

Tessa was babbling. I knew she was covering up, and I’m sure Chance did, as well.

“Tessa, what are you saying,” I said so low that I wasn’t sure anyone heard me ask.

“They were expecting two babies….at first.”

Chance paced around the small kitchen that now felt claustrophobic. Running his hand through his hair, giving it the appearance of the roosters on the placemats. I didn’t know what to do. I wondered if my abilities worked on Chance and if I could instill some hope in him.

“That’s not possible,” I said. Chance’s distress was killing me. Watching him was bad enough, but I could feel his pain as if it were my own. “There can’t be two different fathers for triplets.”

Chance stopped pacing. “You’re going to tell me that’s not possible? You can accept talking to a dead person in the mirror, creatures appearing out of thin air made up of emotion and that I can replicate myself?”

He threw his hands in the air. “But
that
is what you question?”

It was an odd feeling, but I knew without a doubt that this is what they meant by a twin-connection. Or a triplet-connection in our case. Chance was my brother and not a half-sibling from some weird freak coincidence. And if I was wrong and we didn’t share the same father, it didn’t matter. It didn’t make Chance any less of the person than he was, I just didn’t know how to convey this to him.

“Who was it?” Chance smacked his palm on the table. “Who did it? Damn it, Tessa, tell me.”

Tessa pulled back in fear, despite the protection of the mirror and the other dimension where she resided. She closed her eyes. “It was Gage Kneel.”

I looked from Tessa to Chance. “Kneel? Is this someone related to Griffith?”

Their eyes were locked together until Tessa broke the connection by averting hers. Her image started to waver as she prepared to leave.

“Tessa, don’t go yet. Not like this.” If she left looking so distraught and heartbroken, she may never come back.

“That’s why they fought, isn’t it?” Chance asked. “Dad knew what he did.”

“Who fought?” I took gulps of air. “Our father? When? Would someone tell me what you’re talking about?”

I’d never thought to ask about my father. All I’d ever gleaned from the orphanage or Tessa was my mother was a single mother and didn’t know who my father was. Another lie, apparently.

Chance met my gaze. “The night he died. Griffith’s father killed our father.”

“Well, technically they both died that night,” Tessa added.

“Does Griffith know this?” I plopped down into the chair, resting my head in my hands. “Is he my brother?”

Horror filled me at the thoughts I’d had about him.

“That’s all you care about? Griffith?” Chance spat out the words. “Doesn’t it matter to you what that makes me? You’re not the one who has to worry about him being your brother. It’s me.”

“Chance, please don’t take your anger out on Hope. Nothing has changed to make you any different.” Tessa pleaded, her usual upbeat self flat and defeated.

“This is when you two need each other the most,” Tessa said. “She doesn’t understand and even if she did, she’d agree with me. You’re who you are and this makes no difference.”

She shook her head forcefully, her curls bouncing off her face. “No difference at all.”

“Then why did you tell us? If it makes no difference? Why even tell us?” I mumbled into my hands as exhaustion overwhelmed me.

“It’s the key. Chance is the key. He can show Griffith there’s another way. That there are options. His destiny is not predetermined. He has a choice.”

Chapter Eighteen

The body lay sprawled out on the floor. A river of blood seeped through a mound of hair, rivulets, like fingers reaching…seeking me. The blood encircled my feet, wet and thick, a shade darker than the polish glistening on my toes. The image appeared hazy, as if underwater.

My breath caught as I knelt. The scent of blood was so strong I covered my mouth with one hand to suppress the bile rising in my throat. Reaching for her to place my hand on her shoulder, as the warmth rapidly left her body.

It had been a few days since I’d watched Tessa die again in my dreams. This time, something was different.

Her limbs didn’t look as broken and twisted as they had after she’d fallen. Her arms were stretched out, as if asleep, one tucked underneath her face like she’d lain down to rest her cheek upon it. No bones had torn through her skin, leaving their ends broken and splintered from their impact on the ceramic floor.

I squeezed my eyes shut.
It’s just a dream.
I fought to keep the pooling tears from leaking out.

I leaned closer. Lifting a lock of hair heavily crusted with blood, I noticed the color underneath wasn’t the dirty blonde from a bottle Tessa preferred. It was red. Red hair with streaks of black.

I touched my hair, but it felt dry. Sitting back on my haunches, I stifled a scream. As I pulled on her shoulder, she rolled lifelessly toward me. Her arm flew out to her side revealing a vertical incision up her wrist where the spurting blood slowed and trickled to a stop as her heart ceased pumping, no longer forcing out its flow.

Sightless, accusing eyes matching my own looked through me.

It wasn’t me. It was Destiny.

I fell off the couch with a thump as the scream ripped from my throat. Thrashing around on the rug, wrestling with myself, I grabbed my wrists and found the skin intact. I touched my head. No blood.

Light poured in through the window. It was mid-afternoon.
I must’ve fallen asleep after Chance stormed out of here.

I screeched, the sound raw and primal, when a loud thumping resonated through the room.

“Hope. Open the door.” Chance was visible through the gap in the curtains.

Pressing my hands on the floor, I tried to stand but collapsed. My arms quivered like gelatin and were just as useless providing me with enough strength to push myself up. I crawled toward the door with agonizingly slow progress. My voice squeaked in a barely audible whisper when I tried to tell him to stop his incessant shouting and pounding. He mustn’t have noticed me inching across the floor, since I was well below his eye level, because he continued his assault on my door.

I arrived at the door and rested against it, gasping for breath. Reaching up behind me to fumble around for the lock. Once located, I unlatched it and tried to turn the knob without success.

Chance noticed me fiddling with the knob, and once the lock was undone, he pressed on the door, sending me scooting across the floor on my ass.

“What are you doing?” He pressed halfway in, trying to force me out of the way to open the door further.

“I don’t know. Trying to get out of the way, but I just can’t.”

He shimmied through the small opening, then reached under my armpits and pulled me across the floor like a rag doll, placing me back on the couch.

I slumped onto the cushions. Though physically depleted, my mind rapidly returned to the present. “What’s wrong?”

Chance’s reddened face had snail trails drying on his cheeks from recently shed tears. He ran his hands rapidly through his hair over and over and paced around the room. “She can’t be dead. She can’t. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t.” He repeated in a mantra.

“Chance, what are you talking about, who?” Strength had started to leak back into my limbs and return my ability to use them.

I propped up in a sitting position. “Who’s dead?” My breath caught, and I put my hand to my heart. As soon as I’d said it, I knew.

What I’d seen wasn’t a dream.

“Destiny?” I could barely get the word across my lips before pulling them tightly closed to stop their quivering, and to take the word back. “No.”

Once I’d said her name, Chance bent forward like I’d punched him in the gut, collapsing to his knees. His head fell forward onto my lap, and his body heaved in deep sobs. Placing my hand on his back, I bit my lower lip, trying to be strong as my brother dissolved.

Just as I started getting used to having a sister and now…now, she was gone? I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. I couldn’t. I’d just found her. She couldn’t be gone. What I saw in my mind? She wouldn’t do that.

“How?” I envisioned the scene of my dream that had sent me propelling to the floor.

Chance sprung up from his crouch, knocking me backwards with the unexpected force. His face contorted in rage. “It was him. I know it was.” His lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Who?” My thoughts went to Drake.

Chance leaned over me. “That half-breed bastard you care so much about.”

He motored back and forth across the floor, each foot falling harshly with the force of his anger. Tercet shot out of the room seeking refuge in my bedroom down the hall. “He’ll pay. Mark my words. He will pay.” His voice was low and ominous. It terrified me.

Chance stopped abruptly and stared at me with a furrowed brow, as if considering something.

Rushing forward he grabbed me by my arms. “Call her.” He yelled into my face, shaking me.

“What? What are you talking about? Call who?” I struggled to release my arms but his superior strength prevented me. “Let go of me.”

Chance yanked me from the couch by my arm, dragging me across the floor to the kitchen table then pointed at the mirror. “Call Destiny in the mirror. She’ll tell us who it was.”

His gaze was far away, his eyes empty of emotion. “I will make him die the slowest most painful death imaginable.”

“Chance.”

He leaned toward the mirror, thinking the voice had come from there, but I turned to the door where Ruthie stood, holding a glass. I’d never been so grateful to see her. I didn’t know what to do with Chance or how to help him. Once again, my gift of providing hope proved useless here. Although, I understood how he felt. That pain when I lost Tessa and the desire for vengeance—I don’t think anything could help him right now. Unfortunately, he had to work his way through his grief on his own.

Ruthie placed her hand over his where he clutched my arm so tightly the skin grew red and puckered beneath his grip, certain to leave a bruise. “Chance, please drink this.”

He turned. His eyes were vacant, unseeing as the pain poured out of him. Ruthie pressed the glass against him, nudging him gently.

“It will help, for now.” Ruthie struggled to hold in her own grief as she looked at Chance with compassion. “I know you need this.”

His grip loosened on my arm, and his shoulders slumped. He deflated like a balloon into the chair, putting his head in his hands. “They left her there like trash along the side of the road. It took me an hour to get the animals away.”

He looked up. “The animals were guarding her body. I wanted to see if I could help.” His voice mumbled and slurred as he spoke into his hands. “It was too late. Her wrists were cut, and she’d lost too much blood…she was…she…”

Ruthie patted him. “Shhh…don’t talk now, just drink.”

He reached for the glass Ruthie offered and took a sip, then started to cough and gag. “This tastes terrible. What the hell is it?”

“I know the drink tastes bad, but it will help. You need to rest now.” Ruthie stroked his hair and down his back.

I met Ruthie’s eyes. “I saw her,” I said.

Chance grabbed my shoulder. “What do you mean you saw her, when? Who was there? Who did this? Tell me.” He demanded with a little less force than before as his eyes began to droop. He released me as his hand fell to the table when the potion took effect.

I struggled to find the words to explain. “I mean, well, I saw her in my head, but it was her I saw, no one else. It was like a dream, but so real. It happened right before you got here.”

“How can that be?” Chance asked Ruthie but she shook her head.

“I’m not sure, but what it looks like is…” Ruthie paused then continued with certainty. “What I know is, Hope received Destiny’s gift when she...” Her voice trailed off as her face contorted with pain.

“What? Her gift?” I stood and held my hands in front of me. “I don’t want it.”

“I don’t think you have a choice, my child.” Ruthie looked sympathetically at me.

Chance’s anger had returned, and he turned to scowl at the mirror. “Destiny. Come out here.”

Tessa’s image appeared. “She can’t, honey, she’s gone. She’s moved on.”

“She can’t move on. How could she leave me like this?”

“It wasn’t her choice to go, but she was ready to move on. She’s with your parents now, at peace.”

All emotion drained from Chance’s face when Tessa confirmed what we already knew.

Destiny was dead.

He lowered his face onto his arm, outstretched across the table, and stared blankly forward. I put my hand on his back to comfort him and looked to Ruthie for help, but she was struggling herself. Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes were even wider than usual as she tried to hold in her pain.