by Cecy Robson
Tye waits beside her, the small cushioned chair he’s sitting in barely enough to hold his large body. He’s hunched over with his head bowed and his hands clasped together. I think he’s praying. It’s not until I get a close look at the way his hands tremble that I realize he’s only barely containing his rage.
Destiny blinks her eyes partially open, her lids heavy with apparent weakness and exhaustion.
“Hi, Taran,” she says, her voice so frail I barely hear it.
I swallow the building lump in my throat and smile. “Hey, Des. How’s it going, girl?”
She glances at Tye. “It’s going,” she replies, struggling to form her words. But then she smiles, and it’s all I can do not to cry.
Bren holds out his hand, keeping me back when I try to approach.
“Tye?” Bren calls. “The girls want to get closer to Destiny. They’ll serve the food.”
Tye rubs his face hard. “It’s up to her,” he says, answering as if Bren asked a question. He drops his hands away. “Des, you want to eat? Emme has that noodle soup you like.”
He likely smelled it even with the lid in place. Her smile lifts a little more. “You want me to, don’t you?”
“It’ll be good for you,” he tells her, his expression worn.
Poor guy looks like hell. His eyes are sunken from lack of sleep and he’s lost a tremendous amount of his bulk. Tye was always extraordinary. But that strength that used to flare like a lighthouse has been swallowed by a sea of torment. He hurts because she does. If that’s not real love, if that’s not what it means to be mated, I’ll never know what is.
It takes her a moment to reply, and I’m sure she’s drifted off to sleep. She nods, in a way that’s barely perceivable, the motion draining her of her strength.
Bren gestures Emme forward with a tilt of his head. She lifts the tray from Bren’s hand and carefully places it across Destiny’s lap.
“I can help you eat,” she offers.
“That might be better,” Destiny says. At least that’s what it sounds like. I’m straining to hear.
Emme lifts the cloth napkin. “Here, sweetie,” she says. “Why don’t we place this around your neck to spare your pretty clothes from any food that may drip.”
She pauses when Tye stiffens and an ungodly glare shoots in her direction.
Bren hauls Emme behind him, stepping into Tye’s line of vision, his features as fierce. “You know Emme would never hurt her,” Bren tells him, his voice gruff.
“I know,” Tye says, his comment sounding forced and too close to a growl. “I just . . .” He takes a breath, spitting out a row of swears.
Emme edges around Bren and carefully walks to Tye’s side of the bed. She reaches for him, only to have Bren snap his hand over her wrist and yank her back behind him. His response is so quick, I barely registered it. He didn’t hurt her, if anything he seemed to use more care than usual. But it’s as if his touch is too much for her and she shrinks away.
“Bren, let her go,” I say, meaning it in more ways than one. God damn it, if he’s not willing to do anything about their connection, the least he can do is not string her along.
My lightning cracks and sparks fly above my head when his hold becomes more shielding. “Bren,” I warn.
“He’s not going to hurt me,” Emme says, keeping her face away from Bren and fixed on Tye.
I’m not sure who she’s referring to, it’s hard to tell with both weres so on edge. She slips from Bren’s hold. But just when I start to think she meant Bren, Tye is who she addresses.
“Tye,” she says, easing slowly around the bed. “I can help soothe you, if you let me.” She pauses a few feet from him. “Will you let me?”
He swallows hard, though says nothing. Emme takes his response as a yes and falls to her knees in front of him, assuming a passive and less threatening stance. Using the same gentle movements she used with Destiny, Emme takes Tye’s hands in hers, her gentle yellow light sheathing him and causing him to collapse forward. He sways in place, fighting to keep his balance. But then slowly, his spine curls and his head gently lowers, pressing against Emme’s.
She sighs, keeping her eyes closed as her small body bears his weight and her healing touch shoulders his emotions.
Tye looks ready to break down, and the way Emme rubs her forehead against his, she’s ready to let him. It’s a beautiful sight, drawing a brittle yet grateful smile from Destiny. I turn away, trying to stay strong. It’s only then I catch how much it seems to tear Bren apart.
His knuckles crack as his hands ball into fists. I clasp his wrists, my jaw falling open with how rigid he appears. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice as soft as possible. “Stop it, okay? She’s only trying to help him.”
His chest rises and falls, his breaths labored. “I don’t want him to hurt her,” he bites out.
“He won’t,” I say. I should be annoyed by how he’s acting. More than anything, I’m stunned.
I release him as Emme’s light recedes, watching Bren closely as I step toward her and Tye.
“Thank you,” Tye says. “I didn’t realize how bad it was.”
Emme can’t heal a broken heart, but her light is as gentle as she is, allowing her to soothe spirits and give them some reprieve.
She cups his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a moment?” she suggests carefully. “You could use a break.”
Tye doesn’t move. “Please, listen to Emme,” Destiny says, dragging out each word. “I’m worried about you.”
“She’s worried about me,” Tye mumbles.
“Tye, please,” Destiny says, what little energy she has leaving her quickly.
His bruised gaze meets hers, watching her as she returns to asleep. He waits for her to respond, to open her eyes. When she doesn’t, it’s as if the last bit of hope he has vanishes.
“I’ll be outside,” Tye says.
For all Emme’s light seemed to help, it was only temporary. He storms away, angry, and likely hurting more than before.
I should let him be. I don’t of course, not in the condition he’s in. I follow him out through the sliding glass doors. He doesn’t bother shutting it, knowing I’m behind him. I close it using care not to make a sound and watch him as he stomps to the edge of our property.
He stares out in the directions of the thick woods. I take my time to reach him, that horrible feeling of dread following me closely and threatening to permanently engrave itself into my soul.
Tye is enduring so much, his beast is likely going wild. So when I reach him, I don’t dare stand behind him. I stand beside him, crossing my arms and waiting for him to speak.
“Do you want to know how many of the witch elite have come to see their shining star?”
I already know the answer. He doesn’t have to tell me.
“Not a one. You and your sisters are the only ones who visit. Even Celia in those small moments she’s allowed off the damn mountain, this is where she chooses to be, with her. With my girl.”
“We like her,” I say.
He presses his lips, keeping his focus ahead, not that he likely sees anything in front of him. “She likes you, too. Always has.”
I know he means it, and it breaks my heart a little more.
He scoffs, his mind switching to those who haven’t been as nice. “The witches always whispered about her being odd for a Destiny,” he tells me. “I’d hear them, in the other room as a kid when me and Des used to play on the floor with our toys. ‘She’s not a traditional Destiny,’ they’d say, alluding to how the previous ones were so tall and striking. But that didn’t stop them from associating with her. Oh, no, because no matter what she looked like or how she dressed, Des still was the one, the sole witch gifted with power beyond belief.” He turns his chin in my direction. “Something her parents reminded everyone, every chance they got.”
I’ve heard stories of her parents, both heavyweights in the mystical world and oozing with money. Her mother used to model, I think, and her father reig
ns as one of the most compelling warlocks in existence. I’ve never met them, nor do I want to.
“Have her parents been by?” I ask. I’m not trying to rile him further, but that’s all I manage to do.
“No. They called once,” he says, holding out a finger. “Telling her that she was better than this and a true Destiny wouldn’t be taken so easily. What kind of horseshit is that? They might as well have called her a loser like all those other bitches eluded to her entire life.” He turns his attention back toward the woods. “It’s why she dresses the way she does. She knew she wouldn’t fit in and decided to have a little fun.” His voice fades. “She was always like that, you know. Looking forward instead of paying attention to what was said behind her.”
“She’s a good person, strong,” I smile. “And a freak of nature, but aren’t we all?”
Tye meets me with a frown, only to chuckle at the sight of my smile. It’s a rare feat, being able to laugh even as another piece of you splinters away. I guess that’s why I’ve always liked Tye.
“Yeah, aren’t we all,” he admits.
The sliding glass doors open and Bren charges out, appearing worse for wear. He holds his hand out as we start forward. “It’s fine.” He strips out of his shirt. “But I need a good long run and so do you.” His attention shoots from Tye to me. “Destiny just finished eating and wants a bath. Emme says she needs your help washing her.”
“Sure. No problem.” I pat Tye’s shoulder when he hesitates. “Go with Bren,” I insist. “Destiny could probably use a little girl time.”
I walk away, hoping he doesn’t follow or know why Destiny wants to get cleaned up.
Her time is coming faster than any of us are ready for, and she knows it.
I hurry to the door, whispering the power word that unlocks the wards and keeping my stare forward so Tye can’t catch what I’m thinking in my features.
Holy shit, I don’t want Destiny to die. But I can’t dismiss what I see, or what I feel being around her. It’s like this vat of power, once filled to the brim is slowly being emptied.
As I close the door, Bren’s large wolf form disappears into the woods, a white lion racing behind him.
Emme stands at the foot of Destiny’s bed, her arms filled with fresh linens and her eyes swimming with tears. “I set up a shower chair, will you help me?”
“Anything you want, Emme,” I reply. “Just let me know what she needs.”
She places the fresh sheets and blankets on the bar and hurries into the bathroom. There’s not a lot of space in there, just a standing shower, a small sink, and toilet. But it’s enough.
I reach Destiny and pull back the sheets. She doesn’t move and I’m worried she’s asleep until her lids flutter. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask, concerned that the exertion maybe too much.
“I want to look nice . . .” she croaks. “For Tye.”
Of course she does, he’s been her one true friend, and will be her forever mate.
I try to smile, but there’s that awful ache again, casting a sting along my eyes. “Let’s help you out of your clothes, all right? We’ll change your bed and give you something fun to wear.”
“Taran,” she says, her voice excruciatingly feeble. “I can’t see anymore.”
I cover my mouth as a strange film sweeps across her once bright irises. “You’re blind?”
“No.” The skin along her neck pulls as if she’s trying to swallow, but isn’t quite able to. “My visions are gone. I can’t bring one up . . . I’ve tried . . . I need to see . . . need to warn you.”
“Warn us about what?” I ask.
“About the babies.” Each syllable she manages is sluggish, making her hard to understand.
I lean in close, trying to hear her and understand, too. “The babies?” I repeat. My stomach churns. I think I know where she’s going. “Celia’s babies?”
I jerk up when she coughs, worried she’s choking only to find her laughing, or at least trying to laugh. “No, Taran. Your babies. Yours and Gemini’s.”
I stop moving.
The small amount of humor she manages dwindles, leaving only a barely there grin. “You and your sisters have always been special. It’s only fitting your children will be special, too.”
She’s delirious. She must mean Shayna and Koda’s kids, maybe Emme’s too —
“Don’t fight what’s coming,” she says in her same dull and listless tone. “You’ve always stood by Celia, and when it’s time for her children to meet their fate, your sons and daughters will stand by them, too.”
This time, I’m the one struggling to speak. “Are they going to be all right?” I stammer. “All of them?”
There’s no hesitation, despite her slow speech. “No.”
“What’s going to happen to them?” I ask. She doesn’t answer, that odd film in her eyes obscuring them further.
“Destiny,” I say, my voice growing louder. “Tell me what’s going to happen to our children.”
“I don’t know,” she says, trembling. “Their destiny dies with me . . . and their fate belongs to Johnny.”
Her last words drain her and she falls asleep. I look to where Emme stands with her mouth covered. “She has to mean your children, and Shayna’s.”
I shake my head slowly, silencing her. “No, she meant yours, too.”
Our attention returns to Destiny, waiting for her to tell us more. When she does nothing more than breathe in that same shallow way, I adjust the blankets around her, trying to keep her warm.
“Don’t,” she says, her eyes remaining closed. “I want to look pretty.” Her lids lift. “Will you help me look pretty?”
Tears blur my vision. “Whatever you want, Destiny.”
We take our time. I wash her hair as Emme cleans her body. I know that as a hospice nurse, Emme has cared for the dying, and bathed those who’ve passed so they looked presentable for their families. I just don’t know how she’s done it.
Emme wraps Destiny in the bath towels she ran through the dryer. “I don’t want her to get cold,” she says, hurrying to dry her legs.
“I know,” I say, as feeble as Destiny is, a chill could push her further toward death’s door. I reach for another towel and swap it out for one that’s already cooling.
By the time Bren and Tye return, Destiny is lying in a freshly made bed and wearing a blue nightie and robe I brought down from my bedroom. I never knew how long or thick her hair was until I blew it out with a wide-barrel rolling brush, leaving the ends to fall in a cascade of silky waves.
“Hi, Tye,” she says, her lips shiny and pink from the gloss I applied.
I added a little blush, too, and a few swipes of mascara. It helps, just not enough to mask her declining health.
“Hey, Des,” he says.
“She looks beautiful,” Emme tells me quietly.
“She was always beautiful,” Tye replies.
He walks to her slowly, resuming his watch on the chair and taking her hand gingerly in his. The devastation in his features when she greets him with a smile is too much, and I have to look away, swiping the tears that come.
My phone rings, I hurry outside, not wanting to disturb their moment.
Gemini’s face flashes across the screen as I answer. “Hello?”
“Are you all right?” The way he asks, assures me he has bad news to share.
“I’m with Destiny,” I reply. What sounds like digging and flinging dirt, fills the other end of the line. That, and the sound of Johnny weeping.
“Babe?” I ask. “What’s happened?”
“We made it to Santa Barbara,” he tells me.
“And?” I press, sensing the hesitation and heaviness in his voice.
“We encountered something we weren’t expecting.” He pauses. “Johnny’s manager is dead, so are all the members of his staff. We’re burying the pieces now . . .”
Chapter Eighteen
Johnny shakes uncontrollably, pretty much the same way he’s been shakin
g since I picked him and Gemini up at the airport. I thought for certain he’d ask for Emme. He knows she can heal even rattled emotions, but instead of requesting her presence, he begged for mine.
I’m sitting in the back of Gemini’s SUV with Johnny, something Gemini didn’t take too kindly to. I get it, and ordinarily, I’d prefer to sit with my man. But I can’t leave Johnny. Not like this.
He reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. Most are crushed, but he manages to retrieve one that was somehow spared. With a trembling hand, he lifts it to his mouth.
“Can I get a light?” he asks, stuttering.
“No,” Gemini replies from the front.
“Beings with supernatural senses don’t like smoke,” I explain. “It bothers their noses and makes them cranky.”
As if to validate my point, Bren turns around from his spot in the passenger seat and shoots him a nasty glare.
“Please,” Johnny says. “Look, I’m not exactly keeping it together back here.”
Ordinarily, I’d take the wolves’ side. This time I don’t. This past week, Johnny has experienced pain on multiple levels, and despite the agony he endured in Destiny’s presence, nothing compares to how bad he looks now.
“Just let him have a few drags,” I say.
Gemini’s dark eyes flicker to the rearview mirror. “Fine,” he says, more for me than Johnny.
The brisk air that flows during the early hours in Tahoe sweeps in as Gemini rolls down the rear window as far as it will go. Johnny extends his hand, and with a small flick of my wrist, I light his cigarette.
He inhales deep like a seasoned smoker, releasing a small stream that transforms into a white bird with fluttering wings. It turns its small head briefly to look at Johnny before flying swiftly away.
His motions calm him, and he takes another drag. Again, another bird forms, this one smaller, the tail dissolving into three smaller birds that follow the leader out.