Destiny Calling (7 page)

The dreams had to mean something. The book I took in his house proved he had information about the creature that killed Tessa. Griffith might be my way to find it. But what would I do if I did?
How do you kill something that isn’t alive?
And could I do it, if I knew how?

I frowned, thinking of the haze surrounding Griffith. It wasn’t the same as the others. Maybe we were good for each other, like two lost souls. I sighed. More than once in the past month I’d questioned the sense in believing Tessa’s note. If I’d had family, others like me, surely she would’ve told me before now. But maybe
I
needed something to be hopeful for, because at this point, I was tapped out.

I collided right into a wall of fur. “Oh, my goodness.” Grabbing a parking meter to steady myself kept me from falling when a mountain of dirty snow swallowed up my foot and pooled into my shoe. I pulled my foot out of the snow bank to shake it. “That’s just great.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” The words faintly emanated from beneath layers of a brown cashmere scarf.

I knew cashmere. Tessa bought me a cashmere sweater from a discount store for my birthday, once. I sold it to help pay the rent two months later.

“That’s okay.” Tilting my head back to peer at my assailant from beneath my hood.

Heavily lined and mascaraed eyes were the only indication of the sex of the person encapsulated in a full-length fur coat. The woman cast a contemptuous look at the bench where a huddled figure clutched a can with bony, shaking hands.

The woman had been making a wide berth when she’d plowed into me.

She paused and snorted. “I doubt he’d spend it on food.” Then she moved on.

I scowled at her retreating backside. “It’s not like poverty is contagious.”

Reaching into my pocket, I found a hairband, an old mint, and a pile of lint. Checking my other pocket, I found my magazine picture, and a couple of coins. I reached out to drop the coins in, but the can disappeared into the mountain of tattered blankets.

“Don’t put that in my coffee, there, missy.” A raspy voice said from the cave of fabric. Two yellow, watery eyes peered out.

Despite the voice being as rusty as the mug, it belonged to a woman. I shifted on my feet, uncomfortably aware I’d assumed she wanted a handout. I was as bad as the rich snob. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course.”

I hunkered down, wrinkling my nose at the musty smell emanating from the blanket fortress. “It’s awfully cold out, ma’am. Can I help you get somewhere warm?”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” She cackled, displaying her few remaining, stained teeth. “Not good, not good. Time’s a comin’. Two new moons, and she’ll walk again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper.

“Pardon me?” I moved closer to catch her words.

“Give me the cold, ’cause I sent her to the flames.” She stared past me with unseeing eyes. “You follow the sun that walks with the moon. But beware, it comes soon, Hope.”

I jerked back. “How do you know my name?”

“Good things come to those who wait,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “Curiosity killed Hecate.”

“What? But—”

“When protection is gone, the entrance is open. What a difference a day makes.” The woman sang in a slurred tone.

Furrowing my brow, I wondered if the mug she held was full of booze.

The woman stilled and focused on me. “Ask me another day. Now go, embrace the sun.” She retreated into the tattered blankets like a turtle into its shell.

“Ma’am? How did you know my name?”

“I said, go,” she yelled. “Another day.”

Her hostility had me backing away. I peered over my shoulder several times, unable to dispel a prickling sensation, as if her yellow eyes were boring into my head. At the intersection, I waited for my turn to cross.

“It isn’t murder if they do it to themselves.”

I grabbed my head as the voice echoed through my brain. I looked down the street, but her cackle faded into the wind with the words. The woman, and her entourage of blankets, was gone.

She’s probably smarter than me and went somewhere warm rather than freeze her behind off.
I was unwilling to consider other alternatives. Better to believe that, than I’m developing another visual hallucination with an auditory component now, too. Shuffling my feet from side to side, I tried to stimulate circulation. The pedestrian sign seemed to take forever to change.

The old-fashioned streetlights placed about every ten feet along the sidewalk flickered through the descending dusk. Snow swirled around their domes resembled angry moths trying to stifle the flame.

A gust of wind tossed my hood back, and my black and red curls unleashed to toss around my head in a riot. I pushed my hair out of my eyes as a light flashed on the right side of my face. I squinted and shielded my eyes, momentarily blinded. Then I turned toward the alley where the light had originated. The alley appeared brighter than the other streets, almost as if lit by its own sun.

“Follow the sun.”

I mulled over the words from the strange woman.

Standing in indecision as I took in the dimly lit stores with multi-colored, tattered flyers advertising tonight’s specials slapping against the glass. The snow continued its onslaught, fluttering in the air but not substantial enough to sustain itself once it hit the sidewalk.

Except for this beckoning light in the alley, I could almost feel my freckles struggling against their self-imposed hibernation, straining for the oasis of warmth.

The traffic light changed, and the pedestrian sign flashed the words,
this way,
with an arrow pointing toward the alley
.
The words,
Come on. Take a chance,
trailed across the sign.

I turned toward the alley, and the light intensified. Well, if I’m crazy, at least it’s a good crazy. Smiling, I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth on my face.

As I stepped off the curb, a strong hand gripped my shoulder. Instinct had me swinging my fist around, but I stopped before impacting Griffith’s stomach. “What are you doing?” I narrowed my eyes. “You scared me to death.”

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“I said,” Griffith said wryly, “I was trying to save your life. You nearly walked into traffic.” He indicated the stream of cars driving through the intersection I’d been about to cross.

I looked at the alley where my warm oasis had awaited. It looked like all the rest of the streets. Dark, dreary, and teaming with snow. “But...”

“You were standing there in a daze.”

Griffith looked perfect. I drew my hood over my head, then took a swipe under my watery eyes and sniffed to still my runny nose. His ears remained their normal color instead of the beet red mine probably were.

“I was thinking of what I needed at the store.”

Turning toward the intersection leading to the corner convenience, I tried not to think about the book I’d kind of borrowed.

“You’re not trying to avoid me?”

“No.” I cringed. That didn’t sound convincing. “Why would I want to avoid you?”

I walked across the street with Griffith slowing his pace to match my stride.

“You were in such a hurry to leave my house. Acting odd when I brought you back to your car.” He studied me. “You want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Unsure if he meant discussing the book, his freak of a brother, or him not being human and claiming I wasn’t, either. Kind of hard to narrow down the topic, and none worthy of discussing in the middle of the street. “Besides, you don’t know me, so how would you know if I’m acting odd?”

He linked his arm through my elbow, drawing me closer to him and slowing my pace. “I’d think you’d be grateful to the man who rescued you.”

I squirmed at his assertiveness in taking my arm the way he did, but liked it nonetheless. “I don’t need rescuing. I can take care of myself.”

Despite wanting to get information out of Griffith, my emotions battled like the push and pull of a tide. My desire to cling to him fought with my usual response of rejecting getting close to anyone. My head told me I should put as much distance between us as possible, but my heart wanted to stay. My head usually won these battles.

“But I’d like to. Get to know you, that is,” Griffith said. “Or rescue you, if you need it.”

He almost smiled, then seemed to realize his lips were about to betray him, and stopped. “Can I take you somewhere? Maybe we could talk.”

I stopped and faced him. “I don’t...no.”

His jaw tensed and he scowled, but his expression quickly cleared.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to, but I just moved here and need to get settled.” I turned away. “Besides, I’m looking for someone.”

I wasn’t sure why I told him, practically a stranger. Not practically, he was a stranger. Just because I’ve had dreams about him didn’t mean I knew anything about him.

“I can help you.” Griffith’s jawline tensed and he tightened his grip on my arm, as if claiming possession.

“Why?” I took a step back as anger radiated off him. “I don’t know you and…” I thought about the book and the scene at his house with Drake. “I’m not sure I want to.”

Griffith’s face smoothed, and the annoyed expression evaporated as if it had never been there.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little impatient.” He lifted my chin so I looked into his eyes sparkling like the gray mist shimmering around his head. “I can’t keep you out of my mind. I worry about that.”

I tensed when he stroked my head with his other hand. Petting me like an animal. I began to pull away but stopped, the sensation of well-being and relaxation drew me in.

Perhaps I was being difficult. Maybe it was a good idea to go out with Griffith.

“It’s a good idea,” Griffith said, his voice as soothing as his touch.

My eyelids were heavy, as if I’d awakened from a long, restful sleep.

Griffith’s unusual, intriguing gray eyes caught my gaze, and sinking into their depths, I forgot about the cold and why I didn’t want to go out with him, yet. It was inevitable. What was I waiting for? The shimmering lights around him were beautiful.

Griffith continued to smooth my hair, murmuring.

I rested my cheek against his chest. The cool leather of his jacket felt like a balm. Heat radiated from him, enveloping me. I could get used to this.

“Well, if it isn’t the two lovebirds.”

Startled, I jumped back into the man behind me who was twirling a tendril of my hair.

“Hello, Ginger.”

I tried to turn, but his grip on my hair restrained me. When had it gotten so dark?

“What?” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “I’m sorry.” I took a step back. “I didn’t see you there.”

The rail-like build of the man surprised me, because he hadn’t even budged with my impact. The man, creature, or whatever he was, from Griffith’s house, Drake loomed behind me.

“Of course not, but you will. I would’ve loved to have met you sooner, but Griffith called dibs.” He lifted my hair to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “Delicious.”

I yanked my hair so it dropped from his grip, running my hand over the strands, fearful the oily residue oozing off him had gotten on me. “My name’s not Ginger.”

“It’s not. But that’s what you are. Why cover it up with a hideous dye job.” He held out his arms in a welcoming embrace. “You haven’t properly introduced us, brother.”

I glanced between Griffith and Drake. The gray mist darkened around Griffith but couldn’t compete with the blackness surrounding Drake like a cloud.

“Don’t call me that.” Griffith’s fists clenched and unclenched, as he glared at Drake.

I needed to think and couldn’t seem to do that when I was around Griffith. As I backed away, neither man paid me any attention. Their focus locked upon each other, as they circled like dogs sizing each other up. I wanted answers from Griffith about the dreams, the book, and what in the hell kind of power he had over me, but they’d have to wait because there was one thing I wanted more than any of that...to get the hell out of there.

Chapter Six

His attention never left me the whole time I was in the store. He didn’t approach, but watched every move I made. In an effort to avoid Griffith and Drake, I’d encountered yet another peculiar man.

My wet shoes squeaked against the tile in the narrow aisles. With my dwindling funds and the strange man staring at me, I cut my shopping short. I tried to catch his eye, but he averted his gaze, pretending to concentrate on the different brands of toilet paper. With two brands to choose from, he was either the worst decision maker in the world or a terrible stalker. I was betting on the latter.

I still wasn’t sure what Ruthie meant about being able to tell the difference
.
Everyone in this town seemed a bit different, to say the least. Although seeing black fog accompanied by crushing despair clinging to many of the people living here and Ruthie declaring herself a witch did make them appear different than I was accustomed to.

With my bags in one hand, I opened the door a few inches to survey the parking lot. Neither Griffith nor Drake were anywhere in sight. When they’d started their testosterone stand-off, I should’ve gone directly to my car and back to Ruthie’s, but I refused to let them scare me. I was made of stronger stuff, or at least I hoped I was.

Running my arm over the trunk to brush the accumulated snow aside before I popped it open didn’t prevent some from falling in with the bags I tossed inside.

“Hello, don’t I know you?”

I spun around. The man from the store stood a foot away. In my preoccupation with Griffith and Drake, I hadn’t heard him come up behind me. He needed to learn something about personal space.

“I don’t think so.” I shut the trunk and started toward the driver’s side, shaking off the snow clinging to my coat sleeve.

“Wait, don’t go, yet.” He held his palm up. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

He looked harmless, kind of like a big kid. After he ran his hand through his already unruly hair, pieces stood up at odd angles. I resisted the urge to smooth it into place. His other hand clutched a bag of groceries. I glanced at his bag. No toilet paper, as suspected. Either that was a ruse, or he must have a difficult time deciding between types of ply.