Destined to Kill: A Destined Novel (Destined Novels Book 1)

by Jourdyn Kelly

  "Are you dabbling in magic again, Henry?" I did not miss the fact that Bernard ignored mum's interjection. I cannot say I like the man much.

  "Magic is only a small part of it, Bernard," papa answers. "Do not get any ideas. We do nothing but work on a cure."

  "Do you realize what we could do with a cure for Cursed Ones! We would be rich!"

  "This is not for the money, Bernard!" Papa snaps. "This is to save my - village. To save those poor souls who are Cursed. You would do well to remember that. If you expect something more from this, you can leave and never return."

  "Fine, fine. We do it for the village. I think you are missing a tremendous opportunity here. But, I will do as you ask and help."

  Perhaps it was the Hunter in me, or maybe the Cursed One in me, but something did not feel right to me where Bernard was concerned. There was something in his voice that was - off.

  Papa finally thinks I am ready to go out hunting - real Hunter's hunting - by myself. It is absurd for me to be nervous, but it is true nonetheless. I dress carefully in the garments mum made. They are certainly form fitting, but surprisingly easy to maneuver in. I tuck stakes into the belt at either side of my torso, making sure they were easily accessible. I place my dagger in my belt, as well, and use the sheaths on my thighs to hold the special swords papa made. He trained me to use both at one time. It was difficult to get used to at first, but now, I almost feel unarmed without both.

  I pick up the cloak and slip it on. Behind this cloak, I will be a Hunter, not the hunted. As long as I have this, I feel safe and protected - even a bit powerful.

  "Anala, oh!" Mum's hand flutters to her mouth, and her breath caught on a small cry.

  "Do not cry, mum. Everything will be fine." I smile sweetly at her, as I did when I was younger.

  She comes to me and fiddles with the cloak. "I know, honey. It is just - I have never seen you look so grown up. And formidable." She touches my cheek. "You must remember to keep this on, with the hood. Do not let anyone see your face. And, please, come home to us."

  "I promise. Is papa coming to see me off?"

  "He and Bernard are working in the lab. He wants to make sure Bernard stays busy while you go out."

  "I see." It hurts a bit that papa is not saying goodbye to me on my first night hunting. I promised mum I would return, but truth is, that is not guaranteed.

  "He loves you, Anala. He has taught you everything you need to know to survive. Do not devastate him by not coming home."

  "Yes, ma'am." With a quick hug, I pull the hood over my head, concealing my identity, and hurry out.

  Papa had secured a horse for me that was not my own. He said we could not take chances that someone would recognize my personal horse. The stallion I ride now is solid. I do not spend much time getting acquainted with him, but he does not seem to mind.

  I ride up the mountain and stop at a ledge overlooking the village. It is a good vantage point for me, and out of the way enough that other Hunters would be scarce here.

  It is quiet. Too quiet. This stillness could put me in much danger if I allow it to. I must not let my mind linger. Stay alert, Anala. I scan the village and its surroundings. I can see Hunters patrolling, even some fighting Cursed Ones. I contemplate going down to help, but they seem to have everything in control. Using my knowledge of my own abilities, especially the stealth, I concentrate harder on my surroundings. Listening so intently that I can hear the beating of my stallions heart. If I am not mistaken, I believe I can even hear the rustling of small insects roaming the ground.

  Being Cursed, I hear the subtle whisper of sound, but it is the Hunter in me that feel my visitors are Cursed Ones. That they were still a distance away, and in no hurry, means they have not sensed me, yet. In a deft move, I bounce to my feet on my steed's back and leap to the tree branch above me. I click my tongue and my horse trots off. No need to lose a perfectly good horse to those things. I crouch on the branch - and wait.

  The wait is not long. In moments, a group of Cursed Ones - six that I can see - saunter up under my branch. There are no words between them, only occasional sniffs in the air. How they did not detect me above them is beyond me, but I use it to my advantage. Silently, I grasp both swords, and in a single movement I jump out - doing a pretty impressive flip mid-air - while the blades of my swords slid gracefully from their hilts. On the way down, I take out two of the Cursed Ones with a quick slice across their necks. Then - as they say - all hell breaks loose. The others turn on me with their agile speed. But, I am faster. In a flurry of ducks, spins, jumps and expertly placed lunges, twists and strokes of my blade, Cursed Ones fall at my feet. One grabs me from behind, and I feel it going for my neck as the another runs towards us. I flick my sword towards the running one and it finds its target, piercing right through the heart. He goes down, paralyzed. I grab the one currently fighting for my neck by the head and flip her over my body. She fights like a brute warrior, hitting me and snapping at me with her long teeth. I cannot get my sword around fast enough to end her, so I fight back with everything I have.

  She kicks me in the stomach - lucky shot - and I soar in the air. With a swift jerk, I manage to land on my feet about one hundred feet away from her. She is on me in less than a second and I have to duck to avoid the swing of her arm aimed at my head. Kneeling, I turn my sword around and thrust it behind me, into her chest. When she falls, I take a second to catch my breath.

  "Bloody fierce aren't you?" I say to her still figure. I wipe blood from my mouth and roll my shoulders. Placing a foot on her stomach, I grab the hilt of my sword. I draw it back out of her chest and force it across her neck. Doing the same with the other, I wipe the blades, retract them and place them back beneath my cloak. A quick scan finds my horse not far down below me, but as I am about to descend I smell that familiar smell.

  "That was amazing."

  I freeze at the sound of his Irish brogue. Say nothing, I warn myself. Do not turn around, do nothing that would expose you.

  "Six. I counted. And, you took them all out by yourself." His voice held an awe that I should have been delighted by. Instead, I am annoyed that he just watched rather than jump in and help me. As mum said, I am alone out here.

  "I should have helped," he says, mimicking my thoughts. "But, I was...mesmerized. That is the only word I can think of as to why I did not act." He comes closer and I ready myself to flee if I need to.

  "Who are you?"

  Slowly, he steps even closer. That is enough for me. I jump from my spot, landing smoothly on my stallions back. I only hesitate for an instant before I ride off in the opposite direction of home.

  Hours - and countless Cursed Ones - later, I finally arrive home, certain that no one saw me. It is almost dawn, but I still have the darkness to shadow my movements. I return the steed to his pasture, and lifting the staked Cursed One over my shoulder, I amble home.

  Papa is waiting for me. He pretends he is sleeping, but I hear his breath, his heartbeat - which begin to return to normal when I walk in. He was afraid for me.

  "Anala!" He rises, then stops abruptly when he sees what I carry. "You were able to secure one?"

  I choose not to be insulted by his amazement. "Of course. You said it would help you."

  "I take it you did well on your first night?"

  He sounds almost envious. I cannot blame him. He is a Hunter, and that need to be out there never goes away. It is my fault he is stuck here, and I am sure I will feel guilty about that forever.

  "Yes, sir." I want to tell him all about it! How incredible it felt to fight, to hunt. How strong I felt, and how the Cursed Ones did not stand a chance with me. Mum said the ones in transition were called Hybrids. But, I felt like the perfect Hybrid. Part Hunter, part Cursed - all intimidating. "The swords were amazing!"

  "They worked, then?" The excitement in his voice is exactly what I am looking for.

  "Oh, yes! They are magnificent! You should think about making many of them for the others."

  "Well,
that will come in time, daughter. My schedule is a bit full." He smiles at me, then realizes I am still holding the Cursed One. "Oh! Here, let me..."

  "No, I have it. Just tell me where you want me to put it."

  It must be extraordinarily bizarre to see your eighteen year old daughter, thin and not overtly muscular, holding a grown man twice her size as though he were a sack of flour. With a slight shake of his head, he leads me to the back of his lab and pushes the wall. It opens with the abrasive sound of stone on stone.

  "I have lived in this house my entire life. How do I not know about this?" I ask.

  "I am allowed to have secrets, am I not?" Papa teases. "Put it here in this chair. We will chain him to the wall."

  "Papa, do you really think this will hold him?"

  "Would you like to try it out? The chair and chains are made of pure silver. The chains go beyond the wall into the ground more than six feet deep and wrapped around a silver pole. From what we have learned, silver weakens the strength of Cursed Ones."

  "Silver?" I set the Cursed One down in the chair, propping his slumped body up carefully. Picking up the chain, I instantly feel a change in my strength. "Such a normal feeling chain for such an extraordinary feat."

  I pull the chain with all the strength I can muster. The links stretch slightly, but do not break. I am convinced that if I cannot break it, my prisoner cannot, either. I help papa chain the Cursed One to the silver chair, making sure it is completely secure. I do not want to take chances with the lives of my parents.

  "I want to be here, papa, when you take the stake out."

  "I am a Hunter, child, I am sure I can take care of myself." He sounds almost annoyed by my request.

  "I do not think you are not capable, papa. I just want to make sure the chains are strong enough."

  He looks as though he is going to argue, but he just nods instead. "Very well. Get cleaned up and we will then see what this one has to offer us."

  Our prisoner offers us nothing for a long while. Even with Bernard's help, papa came up empty when it came to a 'cure'. The closest he came was formulating a potion that curbed the hunger and need for blood, and one that helped mask the eerie color this curse made the eyes. The latter is still too unpredictable for me to come out of hiding as it can wear off without warning.

  I have been in hiding for so long that word is beginning to spread that I have died. Mum and papa can no longer dispute it because they cannot show anyone that I am, indeed, alive. I even have to hide myself from Bernard, which is, I admit, increasingly difficult since he is constantly in my house. I begin to notice that his interest in the Cursed One I had captured becomes greater every day. I would hear him trying to engage it in conversation - to no avail. His pressing question is always 'who captured you?'. I have yet to figure out why that would matter to him.

  When Bernard found out that my blood - though he does not know it is mine - could heal, he and papa began arguing frequently. Bernard wants to sell the cure to the highest bidder. Papa forbade it. He does not know what the blood will do to humans in larger doses. Would it create more of me? More monsters? It is not something papa wishes to find out.

  I start hunting longer and longer, pushing the limits of sunlight as far as they would go. Being in the house while Bernard is there makes me uncomfortable, and hunting keeps me occupied with more than the thought that this is how I am going to be for the rest of my life - however long that will be.

  I have not run into Thomas again since my first night out hunting. Secretly, I wish I would, even if just to make sure he is doing well. I can hear Hunters telling stories during their patrol of how the Lagan boy went into a depression when he heard of my death. I prefer not to believe it. Thomas is strong in mind and body. I am sure I could not be the cause of such a depression. Maybe I just do not want that responsibility hanging over me.

  I think of Thomas as I ride home. Tonight has been a quiet night, hunting wise. If I allowed myself to think carefully about that, I would find it odd, but my mind is on Thomas. I wish I could kiss him again. I laugh quietly at that. My entire life has been about hunting and being the best Hunter I can be. Never did I think that a boy would be as important to me as that. This is certainly not something I can talk to papa about. Mum would understand, I am sure.

  After returning my horse, I make my way home, staying in the darkest shadows I could find in the dawning day. It is about time for mum and papa to be up and cooking breakfast. Oh, how I missed mum's biscuits! Perhaps I shall try to eat one this morning.

  "Mum? Papa?" It is eerily quiet in the house. I did not hear or smell Bernard, so it should be safe for me. I take a step towards the lab and stop abruptly. I begin to feel the change that occurs in me now as a Cursed One. The ache, the burning. That unmistakable, enticing smell of blood fills my nostrils. So much blood, I think as I take a deep breath.

  "Papa?" Is he using more blood from the Cursed One I brought him? No. That smell. It is familiar. Too familiar. But, too muddled for me to define the origin. "Mum? Are you awake?" I call out as I continue on to the lab. The odor gets stronger as I get closer. Silence still fills the air, and a dread fills up inside of me. Hurrying now, I push through to the lab - and see them.

  "No!" I run to mum, lying so still, surrounded by blood that I have no desire for. "Mummy? Please wake up!" I shake her gently, but she does not respond. "You have to wake up!"

  Crawling over to papa, I check for a pulse, listen for a heartbeat - any kind of sign that he was alive. There is none. "Papa! Mummy is hurt, you have to get up and help her!" He did not move. My mind knows there is nothing I can do for them now, but I do not want to believe they are gone. I sit with them, holding their hands in my bloody hands. Soaked in their blood, I let out a wail filled with agony and guilt. I want to lay down with them, join them wherever they may be now. Unfortunately for me, I cannot die now, but, oh, how I want to. How am I supposed to go on without my parents? What am I to do?

  "You know what you must do, Anala," papa's voice fills my head and I hope against hope that it is really he who is talking. Yet, when I look at him, he still lay lifeless and pale, his cold hand in mine. I see the bites now. Bites that I missed, or perhaps refused to see before. They were attacked! They are so skilled, how could they let this happen? The irony of my question is not lost on me. I check mum, seeing the bites on her as well. The Cursed One! I scramble to my feet and run to the back wall, pushing it open.

  It is gone. The silver chair, empty, the chains limp. Is this my fault? Am I to blame for my parents death by leaving them with this - thing?

  "Focus, Anala. Think only of this moment and what you need to do." Papa's voice invades my mind again.

  "Yes, papa," I whisper, and study my surroundings. Things were a mess in here. There was obviously a struggle.

  "Look deeper, Anala."

  I shake my head. If I thought the silence was eerie, having papa's voice in my head as he lay dead before me was scary. I take a deep breath and 'look deeper'.

  "Things are missing," I say aloud. The vials of my blood, potions, notes - all missing. Why would a Cursed One steal papa's work? Could it really have had the mental capacity to have done this? I run to papa's secret compartment. This is where he kept most of my blood along with the elixirs and notes that provided any kind of change in me. I crush the lock with my bare hand and open it.

  They are still here. Obviously the Cursed One - or someone else, as I am not convinced it was the prisoner - did not know about this. I gather everything I possibly can out of papa's lab, my room and from around the house, packing them into a sack I can carry with me. After washing up, I go back to where my parents lay slain.

  "Forgive me," I ask them silently. "I love you, both."

  With that, I say my last goodbye and set my childhood home, along with my parents, on fire. I watch long enough to make sure no one would show up to stop the blaze, and then run towards the pasture where I steal the stallion. Of course, I feel bad about that, but it is a necessity.
I do not know where I am going, but I cannot stay here and watch my life go up in flames.

  I spent the next several years killing every Cursed One I came across, wondering if I had killed the ones that murdered my family. Would I ever know for sure what happened or would I spend the rest of my immortal life questioning if I could have done anything, anything at all, to save my family's lives?

  Immortality. Humans would sell their soul for it. Immortals would steal souls to keep it. Infinite life is too seductive and powerful to resist. But, immortality is more like a bad drug habit than a gift. Immortals can't give it up because after living for so long, they don't know how to face death. You see, living forever isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, you have your pros, but it's the cons that can make an Immortal wish for a death that will never come.

  "Ana Gale?"

  Mr. Galloway's monotone voice grates on my nerves as he calls attendance.

  "Here," I answer in the same manner. If he's not excited about teaching, I'm not going to be excited to be taught by him. Besides, this is history class. It's a subject that is so excruciatingly easy for me that it's tedious. Luckily for me it's film day so I can spend the hour reading my entertainment magazines. Sure, it's a frivolous thing, but hey, I'm a teenager, what do you expect?

  When the lights in the room are turned off, I scoot my chair closer to the window for the sunlight, and begin thumbing through the latest stories of the rich and famous.

  "Who's doing who these days?"

  I look up at Zac Connor and smile. "Are we talking about celebrities or people in this school?" I ask slyly.

  Zac is the hottie of Westchester High with his sun bleached hair, surfer boy good looks and golden eyes. He isn't exactly my type, but I enjoy flirting with him. He has a nice smile and it always lights up when he's around me.