Destiny Strikes (6 page)

CHAPTER 6

The next morning, Fallon dug the heels of her palms against the grit in her eyes and drew the sheet over her head.

Ten minutes later, and not having gone back to sleep, she gave in to the day and crawled out of bed.

“Damn. What a mess.” Half-eaten food, clothes, and tissues littered the place. Feeling dirty, she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Bathed, dressed, and ready to meet the day, she went downstairs. After looking through the fridge sorely in need of supplies, she headed into town. On the way, she glanced at the spot where the cop had pulled her over. Her breath hitched at the memory. Where did he spend his time? Would she run into him again?

Desperate for a chance to forget her woes, she spotted the convenience store just off the next exit. Food would definitely help.

A woman behind the counter greeted her. “Miss,” the clerk said. “There happens to be an ABC store five miles back that way.” She pointed.

Fallon shook her head and started to leave when the apologetic tone of the woman behind the counters stopped her.

“I’m sorry, honey. Take the exit retuning to Asheton and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” She gazed into the distance before saying, “No doubt you’ve already found the way, but choose a different path.”

“Excuse me. Would you repeat that?”

“Still not sure, honey? Go around the circle. Then turn on Fayetteville Street. That will put you on the road headed south. It will be on your right.”

What was that all about? Cautious, Fallon approached the clerk. The woman interlaced her fingers, resting her elbows on the counter, and leaned forward. Nothing in her pose or face screamed absent-minded or forgetful.

“Do you need anything else, honey?”

Her stare was direct and probing, which raised the short hairs along the back of Fallon’s neck.

“Forgive my rudeness. My name is Fallon. What’s yours?” She held her hand out and watched the clerk closely as she stood up in surprise. Not for one second did she believe anything would startle this woman speechless.

“Shirley.”

Before Fallon could ask any more questions, a customer interrupted them. Then the cash register beeped, indicating the gas pump outside needed activation.

Fallon studied Shirley intently as she flashed each customer a pleasant smile.

There were no obvious signs the woman was a threat, but still sensed something wasn’t as it appeared. The phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’ popped into her head.

While Fallon milled around the store picking up items, she wondered, again, why she lingered. She should get some food and get the hell outta Dodge. A shot glass with an insignia for Seattle caught her eye, and feeling nostalgic, she returned to the counter to pay for it.

“Where are you from, honey?” Shirley asked as Fallon handed her the money.

“Seattle,” she said, distracted by a box of condoms behind the clerk’s head. The sizes brought up a memory from last night that she rather forget. The officer had pressed up against her, and the hard evidence of his interest intrigued her. She’d ignored his arousal, because what else could she do? It wasn’t like she could jump his bones.

A shiver of awareness slithered down her spine, heedless of her celibacy. She snapped back to attention when Shirley slapped her hands together. “Great! We have that in common.” Wait. Had she missed a special moment between the two them?

“I don’t get it.”

“I know how this sounds odd, but there’re some people in the world you just . . . know.” She tilted her head. “You know?”

No, she didn’t. The whole exchange did not make a bit of sense. Wait, it made about as much sense as her still being in this store.

After a few minutes remaining at a loss, Fallon slowly began to make her way to the exit.

The woman called after her, “Do many of your family members have violet eyes?”

Fallon turned around. “I don’t know. Why do you ask? My eyes are blue.” The little mirror on the shade’s display would require her bending to see if they’d changed without her knowledge. Curious, she did it anyway. Somewhat relieved, she saw her natural blue.

The woman’s voice held a hint of sadness as she grimly said, “You can’t handle the pressure of your gift, so you run from it. That’s very unwise for you and for your family’s future.”

Confused, Fallon watched as Shirley turned and stared at SAM through the storefront window. Fallon had parked it right in front of the doors in hopes of making a quick exit after she’d received her directions and some food. Now it just seemed creepy having the woman so focused on the motorcycle.

“You love that bike of yours, but it’s not enough.” The clerk eyes seemed positively locked on the bike.

Oookay!

Whatever spell had been cast evaporated, and Shirley returned to normal, behaving as if nothing had happened. “Oh, are you still here, honey? Can I help you with something?”

CHAPTER 7

Dennis had estimated how long it would take anyone to discover his first kill.

Three hours. He checked his phone. Right on time.

He’d cut the dirty deed close. Many people used this long stretch of wooded back-road for commutes to and from work. The unpredictable schedule of marathon joggers had added a thrilling element he did not expect.

First responders and officers probably gawked in horror at his handiwork behind the makeshift wall of white cloth. A sense of elation and pride overshadowed the guilt he suffered when he’d watched the light inside the woman’s eyes fade.

His final words before she died were an important part of his initiation. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you and I’ve been sent to make sure you die without it.”

He checked his phone. No new calls. He’d texted confirmation of his kill. Yet, the moment seemed lacking.

Rain that had once fell like tears from heaven blurred the scene with mist. The minuscule droplets danced in front of floodlights the cops had set up.

Police also cordoned off fifteen-foot sections with yellow crime-scene tape. Two armed officer, who didn’t say much, watched the crowd suspiciously. Probably checking to see if they would be the ones to spot the murderer who’d return to the scene after the crime.

Yes, he was right under their nose, but they’d never suspect him. He fit into a rare category. His mother and father had ‘Domestic Violence’ issues throughout his childhood and law enforcement officers were sympathetic to his rough childhood. But encouragement and understanding did not take pain away.

“Hey, Dennis.” A beefy man in a yellow rain jacket and stained jeans came to stand next to him. “How’s your momma doing? I heard she’s not feeling well.”

Dennis considered the level of actual concern the stranger had for his mother. The way his gaze stayed with the activity in and around the white sheet suggested not much.

The foremost resident in town who’d ever shown any real interest in him or his family was Officer Travis. Throughout Dennis’s childhood, Travis had personally made sure Dennis landed in a good home when DSS had to step in.

However, to keep up appearances, Dennis said, “Doctor put her on antibiotic’s to see if it’ll help. I’ll tell her you asked.”

Looking over the growing number of people, he noticed one woman’s bewildered gaze staring at something past his shoulder. He turned to see a Red 68’ Ford pull onto the shoulder of the two-lane road.

“What’s Travis doing here?” Dennis heard someone ask.

He watched Travis leave his truck, duck under the caution tape, and speak with a few officers before he came to stop beside an older man. People began questioning Travis's presence in earnest. “He’s not on duty tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s not even dressed in uniform.” a fair-haired woman chimed in. Although her voice took on a lingering note toward the end.

Travis did turn all the ladies’ heads in town. However, no one had snagged the right of sole ownership. And the new woman in town was giving every one of them a decent run for their money.

Dennis studied Travis again as the two men put their heads together and were having words over a cell phone inside a plastic evidence bag the older man held up.

Looking closer, something about it added a hard edge to the flattened lips. Any other emotion remained hidden behind dark glasses. The terminator shades looked dumb on some people, but not on him. However well he thought of him, Travis’s presence tonight had altered Dennis’s perception.

Rafael had warned Dennis when he’d seen him and Travis together. “You must avoid him in the future. I haven’t figured out what he is yet or what threat he may pose. Travis is not like us. Until the transition is complete, I suggest you stay away from him.”

The conversation took place a couple of weeks ago. The next day, Rafael had packed up and run off, as if spooked. That was okay. He had taught Dennis enough while he’d been in town. Most important, Raphael had told Dennis about a father he never knew much about. Over time, Dennis came to accept the incredible story Rafael shared, and now understood why he’d felt different. Not just because of his status among peers and home life.

Shrugging off a stray sense of abandonment, Dennis checked his phone again. Nothing. He stayed long enough to watch the body lifted and loaded into the coroner’s van. Death, and a hell of a lot of it, was coming. This was just the beginning of truths this town had never known.

“Dennis, where are you headed?” the person who’d tried to initiate small-talk earlier asked. “If you don’t mind waiting a bit, I can give you a lift.”

Dennis shook his head.

“No, thanks, I need to get home and check on Mom.”

“Poor boy,” someone said behind him. “Though I guess his mom’s too sick to be beat up on now.”

Yeah, his life had been fucked-up, but that all was changing, and tonight was his first step.

CHAPTER 8

“Breaking news.” A stiffly dressed female anchor from the nightly news filled the screen. “A body was discovered near Zoo Parkway. No details yet, but we will update as more information becomes available.”

Damn, Fallon thought. If Michael’s call had not been interruption enough, the local news had cut into
Bones,
one of her favorite programs.

“Fallon, I need your full attention for what I’m about to ask you?” Michael sounded serious. “Have you ever heard mention of prophecies with an inference to stars. In particular, any version involving Orion, his death, and the real reason he was placed there.”

“Not more craziness.” She groaned with her hand over the mouthpiece. She’d dealt with the weirdo, Shirley, from the store earlier, and now this. She had made it home without incident, washed and rinsed SAM, then settled in for the night.

“Yeah,” she continued, despite the distasteful subject. “All I want to say is you’re better off not knowing the version that doesn’t include Zeus and the seven sisters. The one about him being a scorned lover, with plots of revenge.” A shiver and goose bumps dotted her skin. “That story is better left to starry skies and worst nightmares.” Every account had pegged Zeus to be the man who knocked up Eve’s sole daughter. He’d spurned her. His heart belonged to the archangel turned demigod, Artemis. Both tales were tragic. However, no one ever learned what’d happened to Eve’s daughter afterward. So the account became just another myth. “Why are you asking anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushed off the unusual topic by a quick change in subject. “You know Wallace. He heard it from somewhere and weirdly got me interested in the subject.” He paused. “So, what’s new in the little town of Seagrove these days? Anything else interesting happen?”

A scream of distant agony lodged in her throat. On its heels was a startling compulsory desire to punish, flooding each cell with molten lava. But who?

Lounged on the couch, against her will, she sank her feet into the mixed-fiber Persian carpet, and doubled over from a familiar pressure building in her chest.

Her skin crawled.

The incessant need for death had welled up last night in the cop’s arms. She cringed at how hard she’d fought not to kill him.

She rose, despite the struggle to remain seated. A powerful force willed her to the floor-to-ceiling bay windows. Step by step, arms wrapped around her middle, she fought the compulsion. Her efforts left her panting. Invisible electric fingers pointed at her in accusation for not coming sooner. The cool glass under her hand steadied her while the pitch-black night came alive under her watchful gaze. The storm outside gave her strength.

Moisture slipped from her lids. This was not her first battle where her gift had taken control of her. Other times, she emerged from the waking nightmare judge, jury, and executioner. The constant compulsion craved the sizzle not for just the Guardian-sanctioned kills but for mass murder.

“Arch-e baby. I need your ass to make a brief appearance,” she forced from between clenched teeth.

Disrespect, an unwise choice to use when addressing the powerful Archangel Gabriel. The Almighty’s ‘right-hand angel.’

What other choice did she have when she felt the leash with which she restrained her darker emotions slipping free?

She turned and turned again, her eyes darting about the room. No one in sight. Alone. She pressed her spine against the wall. She needed help–but from what?

Frustrated, she hit the wall hard enough to break a bone.

Where was the Guardian?

A soft gasp escaped when she looked down. Her hand ached. The weatherproof SAT phone, a little worse for wear, carved dark-red creases in the fleshy part of her hand.

Numbly, she dropped with her hard against the surface of the wall behind her.
Oh shit, I forgot Michael
.

Several deep breaths brought about a measure of calm.

I can do this. I will get through this. I am in control.

The litany helped.

Fallon raised the phone to her ear.

“Let me call you back,” she told him in what she hoped was a calm voice.

Before she removed the phone from her ear, she heard, “Fallon, your voice. What’s going on?”

Panicked, she searched her mind for a plausible explanation. “There’s a storm outside, and I found the movie made in 1995,
Powder
. It’s about time for him to go running out the door. You know how that part chokes me up.” She added, “I believe I’ve had enough ridiculous questions for one night. I’ll talk to you later.”

She dropped the phone on the floor.

Not bad for an excuse on the fly. She closed her eyes, sighing with relief.

She stayed that way, pressed against the wall. At least she thought she had. When she opened her eyes, she found herself facing the door with her fingers wrapped around the knob.

She snatched her hand away as if burned.

Maybe she should have told Michael the truth.

“What do you want from me?” she yelled at the storm through the large window.

To her utter horror, all the lights in the housed shut off at once. Then, with each flicker of purple and blue from outside lightning, she stared, entranced by the vehemence of what lay beyond the open curtains.

In an unexpected burst of force, the door ripped away from its framed molding, and an unknown force pulled her into the turbulence. The sheer magnitude and ferocity set a new precedence as streaks of light slashed against dark clouds and the earth.

Individual veins of electricity whipped against a pitch-black backdrop in anticipation of her joining with it. Like Morse code, the flashes repeatedly spelled out her name.

Quakes descended all over her body as the power of the storm’s expectations called to her. Expectations of which she wanted no part.

Death wasn’t nearly the compulsion she felt as words not her own were spoken through her lips. “Those taken in violence shall have their vengeance. The Guardian cannot help you now. Your birthright, Destroyer’s daughter. Resist no longer. You’ve been called, as I once was, and will soon be again, my arrow.”