Destiny Calling

by Maureen L. Bonatch

  “The only humans in my heart…” Griffith cocked his head, never losing eye contact with Drake. “…are pieces of the ones I’ve destroyed.”

  “What? Joining up with the other half-breeds then, brother?”

  “I don’t need to. I can walk among the humans and live as one, but you…” He shrugged. “Not so much. And I’m not your brother.”

  Drake’s long hair slid over his shoulder, as if alive. “Don’t be bitter just because I was Dad’s favorite.”

  Griffith turned his back to Drake and the lanky man hovered behind him, elevating slightly off the floor to peer over his shoulder. I slid further down along the wall to keep them within sight.

  Griffith hunkered forward, concealing his hands. He made a few gestures over the knob and opened the door. Drake went into the room in a cloud of dust with the lingering odor of despair following him.

  Griffith stood in the doorway, looking directly at me.

  Chapter Five

  The scream stuck in my throat. I thrashed my arms and legs to free myself, pulling at the pink oversized comforter. My breath came in pants as I sat up and swung my head around, expecting Griffith to be closing in on my throat.

  I hated having the bad dream.

  Falling back on the pillow, I closed my eyes. I could still smell him, like musk and leather, despite being alone in Ruthie’s apartment. Reaching down to slide my hand under the edge of the mattress, I sighed. The heat of the book validated it was still there. Blurred spots distorted my memory of the ride back to my car, leaving me wondering if Griffith had been playing mind games, again. I’d been certain he’d seen me, but he’d acted as if he hadn’t, and I wasn’t sure why.

  I took in the apartment. The scent of it. The feel of it. I waited. Nothing. The urgent restlessness I’d been a slave to for the past month had finally subsided. I stretched my arms toward the ceiling, and the sleeves of my flannel pajamas slid down to pool at my elbows.

  A witch, Ruthie had said, as if her declaration was nothing out of the ordinary. At least no one had ever said as much to me, except a few people in the psychiatric unit when I worked there. But then again, a few patients claimed they were anything from God to Peter Pan. I hadn’t believed those patients but willingly accepted what Ruthie, a complete stranger, told me without question.

  I tossed the comforter to the side. Maybe her quirkiness reminded me of Tessa. That or the migraines had destroyed my common sense. For all I knew, Ruthie was downstairs stirring a cauldron, preparing to toss me in with eye of newt and wing of bat.

  When I stood, my pajama pants hung down on my right hip revealing my arrow-shaped birthmark. I’d lost a few pounds over the last month, but hadn’t realized how much. Hiking my pants up, I yanked the drawstring tighter, heading for the shower.

  I tried to find something less conservative to wear, not because of Chief’s request, but to distract the regulars from realizing I had no idea what I was doing, in more ways than one. Although my choices of attire had limits, considering my entire wardrobe was crammed into one suitcase.

  Crammed was an understatement. After digging through to choose jeans and a top, my suitcase overflowed with clothes from every corner, as if seeking refuge from the confinement. It was an eyesore in Ruthie’s immaculate apartment. Maybe she had a magic broomstick to clean for her.

  I knelt and shoved the suitcase into the bottom of the small closet. The case hit the back wall, and a few pairs of socks fell out exposing the envelope. I’d tucked it out of sight, but had been unable to keep Tessa’s words out of my mind.

  I hesitated then picked up Tessa’s letter. Tracing my thumb over her familiar scrawl. “Happy 21st Birthday, dearest. You’re special in ways you can’t imagine,” the inscription read. Special? Crazy, was what people usually whispered behind cupped hands. “One of the Enchantlings.” Whatever that meant. I’d thought Tessa had made the word up, as she’d tended to do.

  Until I saw the word written in Griffith’s book.

  “I couldn’t tell you before. You do have family. Find them. They’ll help you.” It wasn’t their help I was interested in. They didn’t want me then. I don’t need them now. But I might have a few things to get off my chest about dumping me in the orphanage.

  Blinking, I wiped a tear with the back of my hand. Why would anyone want to hurt Tessa? She was innocent.

  Tessa used to say that things don’t hold memories, people do. If only I could hear her voice one more time, or tell her I was sorry. I sank down on the edge of the bed, stroking the smooth envelope, replaying our last conversation. We’d argued. Again. I wanted to move and let my restless feet lead me. Tessa wanted me to wait. I’d stormed out and returned too late.

  I pressed my hands against my eyes to avoid seeing the image that haunted me—Tessa’s body sprawled at the foot of the stairs. By the time I realized the black fog-like substance hovering around her body was more than it appeared, the fog retreated as if it had never been there.

  Tessa was the only person who’d been in my life long enough for me to get used to. I’d become comfortable with her being there and started to think she might stay.

  A quick rap on the door barely registered before Ruthie opened the door with a swing of her hip. “I expect you’re decent by now, and all your parts are covered. Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before, and your va-jay-jay ain’t of no concern to me, but this coffee will be cold if I got to wait all day for you.”

  “Don’t worry, everything’s covered.” I interrupted Ruthie’s one-sided conversation and any further talk about my parts. Taking a final swipe across any tears lingering on my face, I shoved Tessa’s letter into my pocket to mash with my latest magazine picture.

  My irritation at her bursting in faded with the aroma of fresh coffee. I took the cup and ogled the paper bag. “Are those bagels?”

  “Sure are.” Ruthie set the bag on the table and lowered her ample behind into the wooden chair.

  When the mug met my lips, I inhaled and closed my eyes to take a sip, and then stopped. I pulled the cup away, eyeing it, and her, warily.

  “What? You don’t drink coffee?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s just…”

  Ruthie’s eyes focused on me behind the glasses perched at the end of her nose.

  “Where’s yours?” I said.

  She threw her head back with laughter and smacked her thigh. “Thank goodness. You’ve a bit of common sense in you, after all. I was hoping you weren’t as naïve as you looked.” Ruthie nodded. “Um hmm, good. I already drank my coffee, girl. I’ve been up for hours. Don’t need much sleep when you get to be my age.” She reached for my cup. “If it’ll ease your mind that I didn’t spell it, or whatever you’re thinking, I’ll take a drink first.”

  I clutched my mug. “No, that’s fine.” I took a tentative sip. My initial intentions to wait to see if I convulsed or turned into a piglet evaporated once I tasted it. Forgetting any pretense of manners, I slurped more. “Oh my goodness, this is the best coffee I ever tasted.”

  “Of course it is, dear. I made it.” Ruthie sprung out of the chair. “Well, I’m off to the bar to do inventory and order supplies. I’ll see you there later. Oh, and if you go out, be careful who you talk to.”

  “What about Griffith?” I averted my eyes since Ruthie appeared to be able to read too much into them.

  “What about him?” Ruthie put her hand on her hip. “I’m not sure what to make of him, yet.” She rubbed her forehead. “Really frustrates me. I’d figure I’d know by now, but I’m sure I will, in time.”

  “Does he ever smile?” I wasn’t sure why his perpetual frown bothered me. Instead of asking why he appeared able to hypnotize me, had a brother that floated on air, and a house reeking of evil, I chose to ask about the frown.

  “Smile?” Ruthie said. “I’d guess he hasn’t had much to smile about. Besides, I don’t know that he knows how to deal with feelings. Reckon he’s not supposed to have them.” She shrugged.

  “He can have so
me of mine. I have more than enough to share.” I hung my head, thinking about Tessa.

  “What?”

  I brushed her off. “Nothing.”

  “Can you tell the difference, yet?”

  “Difference between what?”

  Ruthie waved me off. “Never mind. We’ve got much to do. I’d expected you before your birthday, but after Tessa—”

  My head shot up when she mentioned Tessa. “What did you say?”

  She rubbed her hands together. “I wasn’t sure when you’d show up. It would’ve been helpful if I had known that.” She turned and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Wait, you’re leaving already? I have a few questions.” Moving from the edge of the bed where I’d been perched, I stood, careful not to spill my coffee. Spell in it or not, it was delicious. “How did you know Tessa? And about my birthday?”

  She released the doorknob, then straightened and smoothed the curtain on the window, keeping her back to me. “How much did Tessa tell you?”

  “Tell me about what?”

  Ruthie turned toward me, continuing to rearrange the curtain. “March 3rd, that’s your birthday. That’s my gift. I know things.” She nodded. A haze of frizzy curls had broken free from her braid to dance around her face.

  I momentarily wondered how she’d look wearing a large black hat, toting a broom. “What about me? Am I a…” I hesitated as the word stuck to my tongue. Somehow, I found it easier to believe I was losing my mind. “If I’m not a witch, then what am I?”

  Ruthie stilled her restless movements and regarded me with what might’ve been pity. She reached out, hesitating a moment, before placing her palm to my cheek. “Oh honey, with the gift you have.” She smiled. “You’re that and so much more.”

  “My gift?” I stepped away out of habit, even though her touch didn’t drain me. “If you know so much, why didn’t you get me out of the orphanage for thirteen years? Years.” The familiar anger filled me, and I narrowed my eyes.

  It appeared I’d finally succeeded in silencing Ruthie.

  Setting the coffee mug down, I clenched my fists to contain the anger bathing my soul as I stepped toward her. “When Tessa showed up, they couldn’t believe she’d want me.” My words came out low and harsh thorough gritted teeth. “They hadn’t even considered that I might ever be adopted. Letting me live day in and day out in the infirmary, separated from the rest of the kids. They said it was for my own good. Maybe an allergy was causing the weakness and passing out.” I closed the space between us. “Truth was they were afraid I was contagious. They were waiting for me to die, so they didn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  Ruthie’s face fell, and she recoiled as if I’d slapped her. “Hope, I…”

  “My gift? I’d say it’s more of a curse.” I spun and went out the door, slamming it behind me.

  ****

  I pulled my jacket tighter, hunching forward, tucking my head against the wind. I’d left my car at the corner store to check out the town and walk off my festering anger. Walking may have been a mistake on this unseasonably cold day. Snowflakes danced around my hood, obscuring my vision. Focusing on the toes of my black boots, I frowned at the white discoloration accumulating from shuffling through the salty slush disguising the sidewalk. My toes stuck to the squishy, swollen fabric of my sock where the leather had detached from the sole, inviting in the elements.

  Thoughts of Griffith kept running through my mind. How he’d lost his parents. How lonely he must be. Why I kept dreaming of him. His creepy brother. I shuddered.

  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.