Forgotten Destiny Book One

by Odette C. Bell

  “When?”

  “If the test was confirmed. There’s still a chance—”

  Mr. Jerk leaned in, that smile pressing up even further over his pretty, perfect lips. “There’s no chance, Susan – is it? That’s just urban fiction. The medical tests are run at least three times on at least three different samples. They will confirm you’re a witch. These tests are simply here to find out what kind of powers you have. Beth’s a witch, sweetie, and there’s no going back.”

  “Who is that?” Susan snapped.

  “Just some jerk who won’t leave me alone.”

  He snorted, brought a hand up, and patted his chest. “Before, I was an asshole. Now, I’m a jerk. Gee, you really think little of me, don’t you, Bethany Samson?”

  I froze. The guy had figured out I was called Beth because Susan had called me Beth.

  But how the hell did he know my last name?

  He tilted his head to the side again. “They’re worried you’d be noncompliant. You do know there are consequences for those witches who bite the hand that feeds them, right?” Mr. Jerk stood up, cracked his shoulders, tilted his head this way and that, then pointed forward with the commanding hand of a general. “Come with me, Bethany Samson.”

  “What are you talking about? Who are you?” My voice shook.

  “Beth, what’s going on there? Who are you talking to? Why didn’t you tell me—” Susan demanded.

  “Beth’s really sorry, Susan,” Mr. Jerk said loudly enough that not only Susan would be able to pick it up, but every single person in the goddamn building, “but she’s a liar. And a witch. And possibly a noncompliant witch. Now do yourself a favor, Miss Samson, and come with me,” he said, his words stiff and snapped, his lips pared all the way back until I caught glimpses of his perfectly straight white teeth.

  I simply stared at him, my mouth half open as my ear rang was Susan’s demands.

  When I didn’t act, Mr. Jerk took a step toward me, pointed at my phone, made a kill motion with a finger across his neck, then jammed his thumb down the corridor. “Last chance,” he mouthed.

  You know that quick mental calculation I made before? About whether to cram my fist into his face or run away? I had to make it again. A race of nerves darted up my back and sank solidly into my stomach. This guy couldn’t possibly be in charge. He was just another witch like me, waiting for his test, and he’d obviously grown so bored that he’d decided to play with me like a cat with a mouse.

  I swallowed. “I gotta go, Susan. I need to go find someone in charge.” I hung up without a word, clutched my phone protectively, and stood, tilting my head to the left and right, hoping to find anyone with an official uniform on.

  “I am in charge, sweetie. God, you’re a bit slow, aren’t you?”

  “You couldn’t possibly be in charge. Who would make you—”

  “Beth, it really isn’t going to work out for you if you keep insulting me. Now, for the last time, grab your things and come with me.”

  When I didn’t immediately react, Mr. Jerk rolled his eyes, made a snarling motion to suggest that he would rather be anywhere and doing anything than this, then shunted forward, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the side.

  Again nobody intervened. Their eyes were on us, of course – because this was turning out to be one hell of a distracting show. But nobody jumped to my aid, called for help, or stood up to this bully. They just watched like I was a regrettable sacrifice to a god.

  “Hey, let me go. Somebody help me!” I called.

  Mr. Jerk sighed. “You are really slow on the uptake, Miss Samson. There’s no point in screaming for help. Because the only person who can help you anymore is me.”

  I stared at him as that ominous statement settled. He pulled me down the corridor, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

  Chapter 3

  Josh McIntosh dragged me into a room and sat me down on a flimsy plastic chair in front of an equally flimsy looking portable table. Without another word, he spun around, closed the door behind him, and left me alone.

  The room was empty. It had the plastic chair and the table, and that was it. There wasn’t a two-way window, and there was only a single simple dangling light globe above.

  My stomach kicked. It felt as if it twisted itself up, ready to either give me a killer case of diverticulitis, or you know, just kill me.

  Before my nerves could run wild, I heard somebody clear their throat over an audio feed.

  I twisted my head to the side and tilted it up, realizing there was a tiny set of embedded speakers in the corner of the ceiling. “Bethany Samson, your test is about to begin. Follow any directive given to you. Failure to do so will lead to noncompliance.”

  If Josh had just told me that, I would’ve dismissed him, but this time I couldn’t. Because this was serious.

  I brought my hands forward, clasped them hard in my lap, and nodded. Then, quickly realizing the testing officer probably couldn’t see me, I opened my mouth to reply—

  “Good. Now, pick up the ball in front of you.”

  “What—” I began. I jerked back as a ball appeared on the table. It wasn’t there one moment, then in the next, it crackled into existence in a hail of sparks.

  I screamed and jerked back, banging my knee against the underside of the plastic table badly. Though the table looked pretty flimsy, it was solid enough to ding my patella and send a blast of tingling pain up my leg.

  I leaned forward and rubbed my thigh. Then I did as I was told. I swallowed, settled my nerves, and finally plucked up the ball.

  … Then I just waited. The seconds ticked on until a full minute and a half had passed. Though part of me wanted to clear my throat and question if I was meant to do something, the rest of me was terrified of being labeled noncompliant. So I just sat there. Finally, however, the PA crackled once more. “Place the ball back down. The test is over.”

  “It is?” I muttered as I reached forward and did as I was told, putting the ball exactly back where I’d found it. There was another crackle of sparks, and the ball disappeared, leaving only the faint scent of sulfur in the air.

  I didn’t make a move to wave a hand in front of my nose. Again, I waited.

  “Tell us the contents of the letter in front of you without opening it from its envelope,” the strong male voice demanded over the PA.

  This time I didn’t bother to ask what letter, I waited, and sure enough, within another crackling second, there was a burst of magic, and an envelope appeared in front of me.

  I didn’t dare reach toward it until all of the magic had subsided. With another aching swallow that made me more aware than ever of my pounding nerves, I reached forward and plucked up the envelope.

  “Do not touch it. Put it back down.”

  I yelped, though softly thankfully, and placed the letter back where it had been.

  “I… how can I tell you what’s inside the letter if I can’t open it?”

  “Who is the letter addressed to?”

  “I… have no idea.”

  “What does the first line read?”

  If there was ever a time to get frustrated, it was now. If there was also ever a time to hold onto my frustration and not show it, it was now. Still terrified of being labeled noncompliant, I opened my wobbling lips to answer, “I cannot read the letter through the envelope. I’m sorry.”

  “Time for a new test.”

  Time for a new test.

  Time for a new test. That phrase was drilled into my head over the next hour.

  Though I didn’t know that much about the testing process, I’d watched many a documentary on witches, and I was pretty sure most tests only took a handful of minutes.

  Which gave me hope, right? Dim for now, but boy could it grow, and boy did it grow as I kept failing each test that was given to me. Maybe all of this had been a mistake, after all? Maybe I wasn’t a witch? Maybe the medical tests had been wrong? And maybe – and hopefully – that arrogant Mr. Jerkface had been mistaken when h
e’d said nobody ever failed the testing phase of magic.

  Just as that hope started to sink through me, I heard a crackle over the PA. My testing officer cleared his throat, then paused. I could practically feel him coming to some decision. “Find me.”

  By now, I was already weary from the tests, and I was slumped in my chair. I sat up at that curious request. My brow crumpled. “Sorry?”

  “Testing subject Beth Samson, your testing officer requests that you find him.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that I understand. Do you want me to—”

  The door unclicked and opened itself.

  I turned to stare at it, my brow still crumpled.

  “I want you to leave this room, and I want you to find me. You have two minutes. You must come straight to my location. Now, go; the test is already in progress.”

  I continued to sit there for a few alarming seconds until I finally pushed up. I’d undergone so many tests now that I realized this probably wasn’t a game. My testing officer honestly wanted me to find him.

  I walked out of the door slowly only to find Josh leaning close to it, his arms crossed. “You heard the testing officer – now go find him. Stop being noncompliant,” he growled.

  I jumped, not expecting the distraction. “I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing. How can I find him? I don’t know where he is.”

  “So you’re not a finder. I told Stanley there was no way.” Josh snorted.

  “Sorry?”

  “Finders are the rarest witches out there. That being said, you still need to go through with the test. Now stop standing here and chatting with me – and go find him. Or at least try to and fail miserably. I don’t really care.”

  I opened my mouth to tell Mr. Jerkface that he was genuinely the biggest jerk in existence, then I turned.

  I started to walk forward. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to be labeled noncompliant and that I was fully aware I had to try a test even if I knew I was going to fail it. It was that….

  I found myself walking to the left, down a long section of corridor, then abruptly, I came to a set of stairs.

  Not knowing what else to do, I pushed up them.

  There was every probability that I was doing something wrong, and I was wandering through a government facility without permission. But at the same time, I tried to tell myself that this was me trying.

  I had no idea what the time was and how many seconds I’d wasted with Josh, but abruptly, I came to a room. I hesitated. “Oh God, what’s the point of this?” I muttered under my breath as I reached forward, grabbed the handle, and opened the door.

  I walked in to find a man in a white lab coat sitting at a desk. In front of him was what looked like recording equipment.

  “Sorry to interrupt – wrong room,” I muttered as I turned around to walk away.

  The guy swiveled around in his chair, kept a hand on the desk, and tapped his fingers. “So you’re a finder, ha? No wonder it took me so long to figure that out – the rarest of the witches, you are. Anyhow, glad that’s over.” He stood up, arched his neck from side to side, and cracked his back.

  I stood there blinking. “Umm… sorry? You mean… you’re the testing officer?”

  “Slow on the uptake, but still, a finder, and that, if you’ll pardon the pun,” he snorted to himself, “is quite a find.”

  The guy grabbed a clipboard off his desk and started writing on a form. I only caught a glimpse of it, but in one section, he clearly wrote the words protection order.

  I hovered in the doorway, tired from my hour-long testing session but also jittery from the fact my hopes had been crushed. I was something called a finder, and I hadn’t even heard of that category of witches.

  Before I could shrink away and hide, I heard footsteps behind me. Despite the fact I’d only just met the guy, I got the distinct impression of who it was.

  As I turned around and he muscled into the room, actually pushing me to get out of his way, I realized I was right. It was Mr. Jerkface.

  He didn’t look happy. He also looked suspicious. He peered from me back to the testing officer. “She just got lucky, right?”

  “It wasn’t luck; she got here in well under a minute, and that’s including the time you wasted chatting with her. She’s a finder, all right.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mr. Jerkface said as he brought a hand up, clamped it on his mouth, and let his fingers sink in. “You know what the government is going to demand – you’re going to have to run that test again. Just to be sure. She probably just got lucky,” Mr. Jerkface tried once more.

  “Josh, I don’t tell you how to do your job, so please don’t tell me how to do mine. I watched every single step she took to get here, and she didn’t waste a single one. She found me, fair and square. Now, you get to do the rest.” The testing officer reached forward and pushed his clipboard at Josh.

  Josh accepted it, turned back to me, and stared at me with suspicion-filled, narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t look like a finder to me, Stanley.”

  “Considering you’re a generalized warlock, I wouldn’t count your opinion,” Stanley said as he started typing something on the computer in front of him. “Now, I’m just researching available contracts, but considering there are restrictions on who finders can work for, and the government mandated only last year that they can only be employed by government agencies or direct subsidiaries, that seriously narrows down the list.”

  “Um, I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” I gathered the courage to mutter from the doorway where I was still lurking like an unwanted shadow.

  “A job, Missy. He’s looking up a contract for you. Considering you’re a goddamn finder, we have to fit you with a contract before you leave the building. Security precaution,” he explained without explaining anything at all.

  “Oh,” I muttered. Then I opened my mouth to ask the stupidest question I could think of. “But are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake? I….”

  “No mistake,” Stanley said in the kind of tone that told me he’d spent his entire career telling nervous witches about their test results. “Oh,” he suddenly added and snorted loudly.

  I paled.

  “Oh, you’re gonna love this one, Josh,” Stanley said as a massive grin parted his lips and pretty much carved a line straight to his eyes.

  “What are you talking about?” Josh demanded as he cut the distance between them with one long stride. He leaned in beside Stanley and glanced at the screen. He quickly paled.

  I could only see the side of his face, but that was more than enough to see that Mr. Jerkface looked as if he was about to blanch. “No way. No way in hell. My books are filled.”

  “You don’t have any books,” Stanley retorted immediately. “And there is a position open with you. Especially for a finder. As the city’s only government-sanctioned bounty hunter, you’re one of the few people she can work with. And considering the scum you’re often set to track down and how much social disturbance they can cause, it would be a suitable use of her skills. Plus, you’re also one of the few warlocks who will actually be able to go through with her PO.”

  I had no idea what PO meant, and I was now too weak to question.

  You see, my whole world was crumbling down around me. I felt like a polar bear standing on an iceberg that was slowly sinking under the sea.

  Stanley made a quick, brief call to check with somebody about whether I should be contracted to Josh, and when they concurred, he hung up and turned to us. He flicked his gaze at me, then turned his full attention to Josh just as a smile lit up his lips. “Think of it more as an honor. I’ve never personally tested a finder – they are that rare. And the powers-that-be trust you enough to let you contract one. And hell, think about how much easier it will make your work. You’ll be able to get through bounties all the quicker,” Stanley said as he clicked his fingers and whistled.

  “Which is just going to mean I’m going to attract more work,” Josh said through
stiff teeth.

  “And harder work,” Stanley added. “With a finder by your side, you’ll attract some of the biggest cases around. Look at it positively, Josh – this will do wonders for your career.”

  Josh turned and looked at me.

  And me? I’m pretty sure I sank all the way under at that stare.

  I might not be completely following this conversation, but I’d understood enough to appreciate this – I now worked for Mr. Jerkface. He held my employment contract. And my life was officially over.

  Chapter 4

  I walked in through the open, swaying door, catching it before the breeze could slam it shut.

  Further into the house, I heard Josh bustling. This was where he should introduce me to his premises and describe the job I’d be performing for him. But this was Josh. I might’ve only just met Mr. Jerkface, but one thing was already abundantly clear. He genuinely didn’t care about my comfort. He was the adult embodiment of a playground bully. The kind of idiot who’d never grown up and would get just the same kick out of pushing you off the swing and giving you a wedgie as he did 20 years ago.

  As soon as I walked in, I tried to control the sinking feeling spilling through my stomach. It was hard, and I had to bring up a hand and clamp it on my belly. Even then, I could feel my tummy grumbling beneath my weak grip.

  Excuse me if I’d had a hell of a day.

  Pivoting on my foot, I closed the door carefully, giving the street a watchful glance as I did.

  When the testing official handed me over to work with Josh, the district bounty hunter, I’d expected his offices would be in one of two places – his mom’s garage, because he couldn’t afford any better, or out of some government building downtown.

  This place was neither. This place?

  “Expensive,” I commented under my breath as I leaned forward, ran a finger over the perfectly dusted and polished hallway table, and plucked up one of the intricate cloisonné vases sitting on top of it.

  Though I wasn’t the kind to carve the city up by class, I understood that only the well-to-do lived in this area. The streets were wide, lined with trees, and the houses were large and old. This one was no different. It was an old townhouse with a quaint facing. You know what I’m talking about – all that wrought iron and carved sandstone. Unlike a lot of the other old houses around this area, Josh obviously took pride in it, too – because the sandstone was buffed and clean, not drab and stained black in patches.