Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series

by Laurie D'Ghent

  “If she is the Destine,” Jydda muttered, petulantly.

  Noise erupted once more. It took longer for the king to regain control of the meeting, this time. When the silence was complete, he reminded, “We are not here to discuss the Destine and whether the girl is her or not.” He took a moment to look around the table, making eye contact with each occupant. “The issue at hand is what is to be done with Benjamin, son of Dagnus. Nothing more.”

  There was a hesitation before anyone spoke. A woman put forth, “Why not imprison him? The Sentence does seem a bit extreme for the circumstances.”

  The king raised one eyebrow at her. “Apparently, our Benjamin has quite the female following.”

  The woman scowled, then looked away from her ruler.

  Lightly, the king said, “Well, both sides of the story must be told. We cannot make a just ruling without it.”

  It quickly became apparent where each member of the council stood—no one appeared to be hovering in a gray area. Some felt that Ben had committed the ultimate sin, and felt he should be Sentenced. Others felt that Ben's reasons for taking the girl were less sinister. Unsurprisingly, whether or not each council member believed Integrity to be the Destine coincided with their stance, with only one or two exceptions. The king did his best to keep the girl's role out of the argument, but it was increasingly difficult.

  “The wench has some kind of power over him,” Jydda interjected. “She's always had some odd control over him.”

  “Do you truly think so?” the king mused. “Sounds like a trait our Destine would have.”

  Cowed, Jydda scowled at the table. “I mean only, my liege, that he cannot be held accountable for his actions. He had a lapse of judgment, nothing more.”

  “More than one lapse of judgment, Lady Jydda,” the king reminded her.

  She fell silent, unable to counter his remark.

  “Regardless of his reasons,” the elderly gentleman said, “he has flouted the wishes of this council and cannot be controlled. He is a danger to our very existence.”

  Once again, arguments broke out at this rash statement. Emotions were roiling, no longer contained beneath the surface. All were in an uproar, except the king. He allowed the scene to play out, leaning back casually in his chair. He also allowed the ensuing silence to stretch to an uncomfortable length. One or two shifted in their chairs before he spoke again.

  “I move that we put it to a vote.”

  It appeared as though several, including Jydda, wished to deny the king his motion, but none valued their life so little as to risk defying him. The room remained silent, disgruntled looks on several faces.

  “Those in favor of the Sentence?”

  Hands raised around the table.

  “Those opposed?”

  The same movement.

  “The motion carries. Benjamin, son of Dagnus, shall be summarily executed within the week. The council is dismissed.”

  Є

  Integrity slowly pulled herself from slumber, still tired. As soon as she opened her eyes, she determined the cause of the interruption. “Just like old times,” she said, around a yawn.

  “We need to talk,” Evan stated.

  “I'd certainly say so.” Pushing herself up, Integrity swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her face, stimulating the flow of blood. “I thought you'd outgrown watching me sleep.”

  Evan ignored her comment. He looked more serious than she had ever seen him. “Galia told you?”

  “Yeah, she told me,” Integrity said. “Why didn't you ever tell me that you're the prince?”

  Evan's lips tightened. “It's not something I'm proud of.”

  Integrity laughed. “Not the response I was expecting.” When he didn't elaborate, she prodded, “Most people would love to be royalty.”

  “Most people aren't dead,” he retorted.

  “Touchė.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, yawning again. “What's so bad about being a prince?”

  “Would you want to be the heir to a kingdom whose current leaders will never die?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No, I guess that would pose a problem. But, still, all of the power without any of the responsibility? Not such a bad schtick.”

  “Hardly. Those who do what I say only fear my father. I have no prospect of ever ascending the throne.” Lowering his voice, he muttered, “Not that I want it, anyway.”

  “If there's no point in having an heir, why did your parents have you?”

  Evan shrugged. “I suppose I'm something of an insurance policy.” Integrity looked at him expectantly, and he continued, “You know, in case something happened to both of them. There'd be no squabble over the crown.”

  Integrity yawned again, shook her head. “I'll never understand you people.”

  “Well, you'd better learn quick, because you'll be one of us in ten days.”

  Integrity flashed to alertness so quickly, it hurt. “What?”

  “The date has been set.” Evan leaned back in the armchair, sagging slightly.

  “And the...” Integrity trailed off, but he obviously wasn't going to help her. She almost choked on the word “...wedding?”

  Evan pulled a face. “I'm still working on that.”

  Why did she feel more pain than relief at his comment?

  “Oh.” Not knowing what else to say, trying to keep her tone light, she asked, “Isn't this where you reveal some wonderfully fabulous escape plan?”

  Evan sighed silently. “I don't see any point in trying. They had no problem finding us before.”

  Integrity wrinkled her eyebrows. “What do you mean? You took me to the warehouse.”

  “Only because I saw several guards from Westmarch at Shamu Stadium. That's why we left so fast.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I didn't want to ruin your birthday.”

  An image of Evan making out with the woman at the restaurant, then, later, covered in her blood, rose in her mind. She thought about making a snarky comment, but stopped herself just in time. He's trying, she reminded herself. You ought to, too.

  “So, no running. What, then?”

  Evan shook his head. “I've got nothing.”

  “So I'm going to die in 10 days???” She could hear the panic rising in her voice, but didn't try to fight it down. “How lovely to have a time line!”

  “Well, you won't really die,” Evan emended. “Although, you'll probably wish you had.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” she spat. “Always good to know I'm facing a fate worse than death. Every girl's dream.”

  “I don't think you'll feel anything,” Evan said, in a rush.

  “You don't think? Very reassuring.”

  Evan's features hardened, slamming into place with a finality that startled her. “I came to prepare you, but if you'd rather I didn't, I'll leave.” He moved to stand. Integrity raised a hand to stop him, and he sat again. “Fine.

  “I don't know where the ceremony will take place, or all of the details, but I can give you the bare bones.” He paused, gathered his thoughts. “A person will be selected to change you. He or she will drain your body of most of the blood, at which point one or more members of the council will step in to stop you from dying.”

  “How? CPR?” She tried to laugh, but failed.

  Evan frowned at her levity. “Certain vampires are born with the power to change a mortal to an immortal. All members of the council have this ability. They perform the necessary ritual, and you are taken to a safe place to heal.”

  “What's the ritual?” Integrity envisioned hours of pain, torture, and worse. Evan sidestepped her question.

  “When you return to yourself, you will no longer be yourself.” His jaw tensed.

  “What do you mean? Yeah, I'll be a vampire, but I'll still be me.”

  “No, you won't.” Evan's gaze shifted slightly so that he was no longer looking directly into her eyes. “I've seen the transformation before.” He stopped. She could almos
t see memories playing before his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  Evan looked back to her once more. In a chilly voice, he related, “I was present at the changing of a young girl, perhaps ten-years-old.” He did not look away from Integrity, as though he wanted to make sure his words were engraved on her. “The change was not authorized, and the girl was hidden until her body had recovered.” He paused, then said, “She returned to life as a demon, a physical expression of pure evil.”

  Integrity recoiled. “She was probably bad to begin with.” She stumbled over the words, not believing them for a moment.

  “Have you ever met a soulless ten-year-old?” Evan countered, unflinching. “Outside of Westmarch, have you ever met anyone without a soul?”

  “Galia has a soul.” Her voice sounded tiny, fragile. Weak.

  Evan sneered, shaking his head slightly. “You mortals were always so good at deluding yourselves. Nothing has changed.” While Integrity struggled to come up with a reason to ignore his words, he pressed on ruthlessly. “Everything that is good in you, every piece of you that has the slightest bit of light in it, will be destroyed at your changing.” He leaned forward, a predator readying for the kill. “You will not remember your family, your friends, anything from this mortal existence.” His words hit her like knives, so sharp they slipped effortlessly through her. “Everything that is Integrity will be gone. A monster will be left in its place.”

  “No.” Integrity shook her head, pulling back from Evan. She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her side against the headboard for stability. “You lie.”

  Evan rose and placed his hands on the edge of the bed, looming over her. She shrunk in on herself. “I speak the truth. Though your body may still move and act, you will be dead. You will no longer exist. At all.” He pushed himself away from the bed. Still looking at her, he added, “You may as well say goodbye to Integrity. In a couple hundred hours, she'll be gone forever.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Integrity wasn't able to shake off Evan's words as lightly as she would have liked. It was one thing to die—she'd been close enough on so many occasions that it wasn't nearly as frightening as it had once been. But to lose her identity? “Changed” was definitely the correct term to use.

  It wasn't so much that she wouldn't be dead—in a way, Integrity would be. What worried the girl was what her body would be doing while her soul was AWOL. God can't hold me responsible for what the other Integrity does, can He?

  When Galia brought her next meal, Integrity decided to take control of what she could. “Is there any way we can get rid of this dang bed?” she asked, kicking one of the metal legs. “I'd like to forget the whole coma thing.”

  “Certainly,” Galia replied, setting the tray down on the hospital table.

  “Get rid of that thing, too,” Integrity grumbled. She didn't know why she was itching for a fight so much, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. “I'd rather eat off the floor.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Galia replied, ever serene.

  “And don't call me that!”

  “Yes, Integrity,” Galia said, unruffled.

  Integrity plopped in the armchair and pulled the wheeled tray over to her. “Pumpkin pie!” she couldn't help but exclaim. “Yeah, man!” She started eating it, not even bothering to lift the cover on the rest of her meal.

  “It is that time of year,” Galia replied, straightening the bedclothes. “I'll send someone with the new bed within the hour.”

  Sheepish now, mouth crammed with pumpkin pie, Integrity nodded at her. “Thanks, Galia,” she mumbled.

  Just as Integrity finished her meal, there was a sharp rap on the door. She wasn't used to having visitors, let alone ones that would knock, and she had to hurry to open the door after she had continued to sit in the chair like an idiot. Paul stood on the other side, beaming. “Did someone request a bed?”

  “Yes, please,” Integrity moaned. “I hate wondering every time I wake up if there are still needles stuck in me.” She swung the door wide and held it for him as he and another guard hauled a mattress, box springs, and other necessary items through. The other man did not speak, though Integrity caught him glancing at her curiously every once in a while. He set to work dismantling the hospital bed, and Paul moved to help him.

  Integrity considered helping, hating the way she felt just standing and watching, but knew that bed disassembly was not something the Destine would do. She sat in the armchair, instead, feeling stiff and unnatural. If only Paul had come alone.

  It wasn't long before the bed was taken apart. The two men proceeded to install the new piece of furniture, and Integrity jiggled her foot. She wanted to talk to Paul, dig out whatever information she could from him, but she didn't dare do so in front of the stranger. She was grateful when Paul dismissed the man, telling him he'd finish up on his own. He got a strange look for his comment, but the stranger left, anyway. As soon as the door was shut, Integrity sagged in her seat. “I thought he'd never leave.”

  Paul laughed, a light, genuine sound that helped her world settle back into a more normal position. “Don't hold back now,” he teased. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Um, my life sucks and I don't know what to do about it. How's that?”

  Paul gave her a sympathetic look, though he still smiled. “I take it congratulations are not in order, then?”

  She snorted. “Hardly. I've never been very positive about arranged marriages.”

  Paul looked confused for a moment, then said, “Oh,” as clarity broke through. “I was talking about your success at the trial.” Suddenly uncomfortable, he focused his attention back on a bolt he was tightening. “I thought the other might just be a rumor.”

  “I wish,” she sighed, sinking lower in the chair. “This whole Destine thing isn't really all it's cracked up to be.”

  “No?” His customary smile was back in place.

  Integrity shook her head. “I haven't seen any benefits from it.” She began ticking off the points on her fingers. “Parents dead, friends gone, no high school diploma, tons of violence, lots of kidnappings, near constant danger...”

  Paul raised a restraining hand. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, “I get it. Not exactly a walk in the park.”

  “I was kidnapped from a park, once.”

  Paul shook his head, laughing quietly. “You're something else, Integrity.”

  “Gee, thanks. I think.” Paul continued to work on the bed, whistling poorly under his breath. After a time, Integrity interrupted him. “Paul?”

  He stopped what he was doing and looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Do you remember what it was like when you were changed?”

  The open look he sported closed in an instant. He rocked back on his heels, bouncing the wrench against his opposite hand. “A little,” he finally admitted. He shrugged, fiddled with the already tight bolt. “There's not much to tell.”

  Sensing that he was uncomfortable, but desperate for information, Integrity continued. “Will you tell me what you can?”

  Paul looked at her, sighed, then levered himself to his feet. He dropped the wrench on top of the bed, walked around it, then sat on the edge so that he was facing her. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  No. “Yes.”

  He shrugged, looked at her askance. “Okay.” He brushed some imaginary lint off his pant leg, avoiding her gaze. “I was a street kid,” he said, his voice low. He still refused to look at her. “No one cared about me. I was the perfect target.”

  When he paused, she gently prodded him forward. “What do you mean, 'the perfect target'?”

  He glanced at her for a moment, then studied his well polished dress shoe. “Vampires generally take out people that won't be missed.” He smiled wryly, still looking down. “The last thing they need is for the government to drop a nuclear bomb on Westmarch.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  Paul shrugged again, rubbed one hand against the back of his neck. “Home sucked. Typ
ical story—mom dead, dad a drunk. I spent as much time away from the apartment as I could.” He appeared ashamed of his background, and Integrity wondered how long ago this had been. Looking at her for the first time, suddenly lighter, he finished, “Then a vampire found me, and here I am.” He gestured broadly around them.

  Integrity laughed once, shortly. “Yeah, nice try. What about this whole 'being found' thing?”

  She expected Paul to withdraw into himself again, but he seemed unaffected by the story. “I don't remember who did it, but someone bit me, drained me, then changed me. At least, I assume they did. I don't remember much until I woke up.”

  “How long were you out?” Memories of the coma crept forward, and Integrity kicked them away. It's not the same.

  Paul shrugged lackadaisically. “I dunno. It didn't matter. They brought me here, trained me to be a guard. That's about it.”

  Wrinkling her forehead, Integrity queried, “So, it didn't hurt?”

  Paul looked away, rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well...” His words trailed off.

  He didn't need to say any more. She got the picture.

  Seeing her expression, Paul hastily changed the subject. “So you and Evan are really getting married, huh?”

  Thoroughly distracted, Integrity grimaced. “They came to fit me for a dress yesterday.”

  “Wow. Heavy.”

  Integrity swatted at him. “Gee, thanks, that makes it all so much easier.”

  He raised his hands in defense, laughing once more. “Don't blame me. I'm not the one you're gonna be stuck with forever.”

  Integrity rolled her eyes. “Even if we do get married, I doubt I'll see much of him.” Paul raised one eyebrow at her. She explained, “He's not exactly thrilled at the prospect, either.”

  A strange look passed over Paul's face. “I wouldn't be so sure,” he said, carefully.

  “Oh, please. The man has a penchant for trying to kill me. Not exactly 'happily ever after' material.”

  “Whatever you say,” Paul said, his tone clearly conveying that he didn't mean it.

  Є

  The king sat in his chambers, sipping from an intricate, golden goblet. As always, he appeared supremely unconcerned with what the man was saying.