A Destiny Revealed

by Andersen, Dria

Dalia waited, but the goddess did not elaborate. “How does it work?”

  “The village shaman came up with a way to remove the magic from the Ajo using diamonds from the village mine. The oracle would locate the Ajo with my help. She'd send warriors out to retrieve the magic. The diamonds with the collected magic were brought back to the healer. She purifies the magic. Your job is to transport that magic back to here, to my temple.” She explained.

  Dalia frowned. “That seems simple enough.”

  Oya laughed. “Yes, simple. Make sure you follow the rules passed down to you Dalia. I don't want to lose you.”

  “How do I transport the diamonds back here?” Dalia said.

  “You'll need to be back at the temple for that.” Oya answered vaguely.

  “The temple where Bron lives?”

  “Yes, you don't have to live there. I understand how close you are to your family. It'll be simple for you to travel there twice a month to transport the magic to me.” Oya’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and her lips pursed in concentration.

  Dalia looked around for a threat.

  “Don't be so hard on Bron. He thinks he's doing what's best. This is not supposed to happen so soon though, I'm sorry for that.”

  Dalia frowned in confusion and started to say something when a wrenching pain split her chest. Her eyes went wide and she gasped for air. Her vision started to dim.

  “We're not done, Dalia. I still have much to tell you. I'll come to you again.”

  Dalia couldn't answer. The goddess faded and Dalia was slammed back into her body.

  Chapter 19

  HER CHEST BURNED and a weight hovered over her, pinning her down. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to think past the pain. When she opened her eyes, Bron was leaning over her, his hands on her chest. Tears streamed from her eyes. It felt as though her soul was being ripped from her body. She looked around trying to find out the source of pain. She tried to sit up.

  Bron wouldn't let her up. His eyes were tormented, tears silently tracking down his face. Dalia looked down at her chest and saw a diamond nestled between her chest and his palm.

  “No.” She struggled to move him from on top of her.

  They sat locked in agony for minutes, betrayal breaking her heart. Bron finally lifted his weight and cursed. Dalia looked down. A burn mark scarred her chest where Bron held the diamond. He shook his hand cursing. She scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. For long moments she stared at him, unable to speak around her hurt.

  “I'm sorry, rewá, I had to do it.”

  His pain radiated through her mind but she pushed it aside, shutting him out.

  “I need to transport you the safe house and this is the only way. They would've sent someone else–”

  “I would've preferred for someone else to betray me, it would've hurt less, Bron.” Oh God, shards of pain stabbed into her heart. Her vision dimmed as she fought to stay standing.

  “I couldn't let another touch you, Dalia.” He said it as though that made it right.

  “You could've asked me, Bron. You didn’t have to do it while I was–” Dalia stopped, unable to speak pass the lump in her throat.

  Bron watched her, regret heavy on his mind. He thought that if he did it before she woke, it would be easier on them both. When she'd opened her eyes, Bron knew he had lost. The confusion that first lit her eyes when she woke, quickly gave way to hurt and betrayal, stopping his heart. He clenched his hand, the palm of it still burning. He had a burn the same size and shape as the one on Dalia’s chest. He felt the failure down to his soul. The tattoos marking her as Ajo were a deep crimson now, but still there, so his betrayal was for nothing.

  “I thought I was doing what was best for us both.” He pleaded for her understanding. “I want us to be together and we can't with the corrupt powers in you.”

  “If I'm not good enough for you the way that I am then, I don’t want you.” Dalia swiped at the tears on her face. “Leave, now.”

  “Wait, Dalia.” No, he couldn't lose her. “We have to talk. I have a duty to the tribe–”

  “If doing your duty is more important than your promises to me, then I definitely don’t want you in my life.” She cut him off.

  “Nothing is more important to me than you.” He pushed the words out past the lump in his throat. Guilt and fear closed him in, suffocated him.

  “You have a funny way of showing it.” She clutched the sheet to her chin.

  He saw the resolve in her eyes and scrambled to think of how to fix what he had done. “You have to know that I did it with your best interests at heart.”

  “My best interests should've been discussed with me. I want you to leave now.” She moved away from the door.

  “Dalia-” The hurt and anger in her eyes killed him.

  “Leave now!” she screamed. “I don't want you here.” She circled the bedroom keeping distance between them.

  The pain in his heart hurt worse than his brother’s loss. He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  "And stay out of my head!" She shouted telepathically. Her cry reverberated through the link that bound the tribe and Bron knew it was over.

  “OH NO,” ZAHRA GASPED. She sat at table with Bakari having dinner. She looked up as her husband entered the kitchen. He braced his hand on the wall as he felt traces of the pain.

  "Zahra" The anguish in Bron’s voice seared her.

  Her eyes welled as his pain pierced through her mind. She quickly transported him into the kitchen.

  “What happened, Bron?” She placed her hand across her chest.

  Bron dropped into the chair at the table. He spotted Bakari and his eyes hardened in anger. “I did what I was asked to do.”

  Zahra looked between the Ijoye and Bron in confusion. Her husband winced. Something was going on. “What were you asked to do, Bron?”

  “I was told that my mate wasn’t welcome here unless I got rid of the Ajo powers,” His teeth clenched, holding back a snarl.

  Zahra backed up in her chair in surprise. “No one said she was not welcome, Bron." She looked at Bakari, surely he wouldn't… His jaw tightened, but his eyes betrayed nothing. “What is going on?” Her gaze strayed to her husband, he lowered his eyes guiltily.

  “I ordered Bron to rid the Ajo of her power before I would allow her here.” Bakari showed no remorse.

  Damn him. The familiar burn of her temper heated her face.

  “Her name is Dalia.” Bron stood, his chair slamming against the floor. “She's not ‘the Ajo’ she is my mate, and you will show her respect.”

  Fynn pulled Bron back.

  “As long as she is a threat to this tribe I will refer to her however I see fit.” Bakari shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance.

  Zahra slapped the table in anger. “Show some respect Ijoye. She's the álà-írín and important to this tribe.” How in the world would she fix this? Dalia shut her out of her mind, and from the chaos running through Bron's the tribe could lose them both.

  “She's a threat to this tribe regardless of your refusal to see otherwise.” Bakari turned to her and snarled.

  See, this was why they never got along.

  Fynn growled at his father’s tone.

  She ignored them both. “What did you do, Bron?”

  “I tried to take the corrupted powers.”

  Her heart plummeted. “Did it not occur to you to ask me if her powers were corrupt?” Though she spoke to Bron, it was the Ijoye she watched. Bakari met her stare, no trace of remorse in his expression. She couldn't sense any remorse from him either, but with the heightened emotions in the room it was hard for her to filter anything.

  “What do you mean her powers weren't corrupt?” Bron whispered. He backed against the wall, his face ashen.

  “Is that the reason you gave for not allowing her here? Because you thought she was corrupt?” Zahra ignored Bron’s question and focused her attention on the Ijoye.

  Bakari turned his head, avoiding her.

 
“What is going on?” Aren stepped into the room.

  “Answer the question, Ijoye.” Her power saturated the room, bowing the warriors’ heads in submission, all but Bakari.

  “I said nothing of corrupt powers, only that he removed the Ajo powers that were stolen.” Bakari said stubbornly.

  “You said–” Bron started.

  “She is Ajo, Zahra and therefore an enemy to our tribe.” He cut Bron off.

  “And that’s all she will ever be to you?” He was impossible.

  Fynn moved closer to her, no doubt sensing the impending explosion. He placed a hand on her shoulder and heat from his palm sunk into her. She shuddered and reigned in her anger.

  “I will not let an Ajo destroy our tribe.” Bakari lifted his chin.

  “Do you intend to destroy the tribe from the inside, Ijoye?” The impact of what he did hit her and she nearly swooned. All the careful planning… the work that went into finding Dalia. “Do you think the goddess will have use for you if we can't do what we were set on this earth to do? Do you have any idea what’s at stake?”

  War loomed and Bakari sat there as though he were in the right. She wished she could throw something at him. Anything to remove the stubborn look on his face.

  “You weren't there, Zahra, you didn’t see the way they destroyed our temple.”

  “No I wasn’t, but neither was Dalia. I told you she wasn't corrupt, that her powers were different than the other Ajo.”

  The kitchen became still, the silence like the calm before the storm. “I hope you’re satisfied that you’ve damned us all.” Without the cycle completed, the Ajo would over run them. It would only be a matter of time before those searching for a way into the temple found one.

  “You knew she was not corrupt?” Bron tensed, his eyes changed.

  His beast perched, ready to take over. Zahra sighed and used her power to calm him. She was disgusted with the lot of them. Either of them could’ve come to her with their concerns, but instead they went behind her back. She dragged Bron from the room to prevent the fight she knew was brewing in the air.

  “You should've come to me, Bron.”

  Bron flinched at her anger. “Trust me, I'm sorry I didn't.” He left Zahra alone at the foot of the stairs.

  She watched him until she heard his room door slam. She needed to contact the Goddess. They needed to fix this, and pronto.

  Chapter 20

  DALIA GROANED AND ROLLED OVER, cursing whoever had the nerve to call her at the ungodly hour of… eight o’clock in the evening. Dalia sighed. Damn, as lethargic as she was she was sure it was barely sunset.

  “What Xavier?”

  “Dalia, I've been calling you for four days! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Her brother sounded mad.

  “I’ve been busy Xavi,” she said lamely.

  “You're never that busy, never. Julian said you haven’t spoken with him either. Do you have any idea how worried we've been?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little out of it.” Really she'd been sulking the past few days but her brother didn’t need to know that. It was a little embarrassing and a lot pathetic. She hated that she was unable to move past her pain. She wasn’t the type of woman to sit around whining over a man, but here she was. Four days later, barely functioning, barely eating, feeling like a complete washout.

  Even when she bothered to feed, thoughts of Bron invaded her mind. Calling herself every kind of fool, she fed only from females, his comfort uppermost in her thoughts. Tonight she would feed from the finest man she could find.

  “Are you hurt?” He paused for her answer. “I knew it. Julian!” he called, “Get to your aunt’s now, she’s hurt.”

  Dalia sighed. She'd gone and done it now, her nephew would be over here in a few minutes, clucking around her like a mother hen and she'd never get any peace.

  “I’m fine Xavi, you don’t have to send Julian.” Please don't send Julian.

  “And call your sister, maybe she should meet you there.” He ignored her protest.

  “Don’t Xavi, really.”

  Her brother plowed on, completely disregarding her request. “Too late, we'll be there in twenty minutes. We have to talk anyways. You've missed a lot while you were ‘busy’. Do me a solid and don’t try to sneak off.” He hung up.

  Dalia stared at the phone for long moments trying to figure out how to escape the family meeting she knew would happen whether she liked it or not. Reluctantly crawling from the bed, she padded to her bathroom.

  Yikes. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair sat in a tangled heap atop her head. Evidence of her sulking showed in the bags under her eyes, and her ashen skin. Man, she looked a mess. Her breath caught as the scar along her chest caught her attention. Cursing Bron and his betrayal, she grabbed a brush and set out to tackle the mess of her hair. She clutched the brush tightly as pain seized her body. Despair rolled through, stealing her breath. She grit her teeth and pushed through it. It was getting worse, and somehow didn't feel like her own. Damn it she would not feel sorry for him. Swiping the tears from her eyes, she set about ignoring the emptiness eating at her gut.

  She barely had time to finish and get dressed before her doorbell rang. Her nephew walked into her bathroom moments later, making a face at her appearance.

  “Wow Tia, love what you’ve done with yourself.”

  Dalia flipped him off and took one last look in the mirror. The ponytail she had pulled her hair into was sad but she didn’t think it was that bad. The tank top and yoga pants she'd slapped on were decent enough, so she didn’t know why he was fussing.

  “It’s just a ponytail, Julian.”

  “That’s gotta be the saddest ponytail I’ve ever seen and since when have your tats been red." He traced his finger over the tribal artwork.

  Dalia ignored him and walked into the kitchen. Her brother was there filling a kettle for tea. She eyed Xavier, happy to see him. They were seven years apart but they were still close. His fifty-three years had been kind to him. His six-foot tall body was still fit, only slightly heavier than he'd been in his twenties. Thick wavy hair with a liberal amount of gray threaded through it touched the collar of his golf shirt. His face was almost unlined and identical to his son’s. He was dressed neat as a pin, the way he always was. His khaki pants were pressed, the blue golf shirt he wore tucked in neatly.

  “Dios, Dalia, did you at least brush your teeth?” Xavier pressed a light kiss to her cheek.

  “My God, what is it with you two prima donnas, I’m clean, I’m dressed and I haven’t shot either of you for barging in my apartment, consider yourselves lucky.” She plopped herself on the stool at the island.

  “And you’re in a fantastic mood,” Julian joked.

  Dalia smiled for the first time in days. She watched her brother putter around in her kitchen, grateful to have him there.

  “Do you ever blame me, Xavi?” He tensed at her quiet question.

  Julian looked between the two of them trying to decide whether he should leave the room.

  “We’ve been over this, Dalia. The decision to come to New York was mine to make. It was not your fault some maniac wanted to use me to get to you.” He knew what she referred to.

  “You could've just given me up, Xavi. You didn’t have to suffer.” The look her brother gave her turned her mouth up in a small smile.

  “I've never been a coward.”

  “I thought I was better than Loiza,” she murmured.

  “You were still family.” Xavier grabbed her hand. “You were there when I needed you, and that’s all that matters.” He kissed her knuckles and went back to preparing his tea.

  An ache Dalia had become accustomed to carrying eased with her brother’s words, allowing her to enjoy his company without the accompanying guilt.

  She heard the key in her front door lock moments before her niece, Julian’s twin sister barged into the room. Francesca strode into the room, her curly brown hair tucked under a baseball
cap, her hazel eyes scanning the room, searching for unknown threats. Her tall, curvy body was hidden under a pair of baggy jeans and a loose t-shirt that read ‘Be safe at night, sleep with a cop’. Flip flops covered her slender feet and showed off her fire engine red toenails, with the two toe rings she always wore as a claim to her womanhood. Her face was as beautiful as her brother’s was handsome. They shared the same big, expressive eyes, covered with thick dark lashes. Francesca's pert nose was courtesy of her mother as was her lush full lips.

  No make-up adorned her serious face. Her stride was graceful, almost cat-like as she sauntered through the loft. Dalia frowned as she felt a subtle power radiating from her niece. It had a familiar taste to it. Francesca walked over kissing her father and aunt dutifully before popping her brother on the back of his head.

  “Francesca, how in the hell am I going to get you married off if you stroll around looking homeless.” Xavier pulled off her ball cap.

  Her brown hair fell to the middle of her back in a riot of kinky curls. It was an argument they had frequently. Dalia’s brother thought that if his only daughter were married off she would quit her job as a cop.

  “That’s easy papa, stop trying to marry me off. Besides, I thought we were here to discuss Tía’s sulking.” Francesca dug through Dalia’s refrigerator.

  “I was not sulking, Frankie.” Dalia lied.

  Frankie snorted in answer to that. She sat on the stool next to her aunt and started peeling an orange she found

  “Is that what you’ve been doing, Dalia?” Xavier narrowed his eyes.

  “I appreciate the concern guys, but I was only taking a few days to rest.” Dalia said.

  “Hmm,” Julian murmured.

  “In other words it’s not up for discussion.” Frankie's eyes searched Dalia’s face.

  “Fine, then we can discuss other things,” Xavier announced. He poured tea for himself and his daughter as Julian grabbed a beer for himself and Dalia. He waited until his son was seated before he dropped his news. “So, I've been talking to dad.”

  Dalia stopped the beer halfway to her mouth and frowned at her brother. “What do you mean you’ve been talking to dad?” She set down her drink.