Destiny Kills (18 page)

Because I couldn’t afford to hang on to those promises, I really couldn’t. There was just too much uncertainty in my present.

He broke the kiss as suddenly as he started it. He stared at me for several seconds, his breathing harsh and blue eyes stormy, then simply said, “A month, then. Make sure you’re there.”

“I will be.” I turned and walked away. But as I began to climb the steps to the parking lot, I looked back. I thought I saw a muscle tick along his jawline. Thought I saw his fingers twitch, and then clench. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and I didn’t stop.

When I finally reached the parking lot, I gave in to the urge to look around again.

Trae was gone.

Chapter Eleven

I
t was a lonely drive to my dad’s. But as the miles slipped by and I got closer to home, tension began to crawl through my body. Tension that was an odd mix of excitement and anxiety. I hadn’t seen my dad in nearly eleven years, and I had no idea how badly he’d been ravaged by the diabetes.

Part of me didn’t actually
want
to see what the disease had done to him. I wanted to remember him as he was back then, not as he was now. Which was selfish of me, I guess.

I swung the car into our street and slowed as I neared the beautiful old maple tree that marked the road that led down to our house. But something caught my eye—the brief glint of sunlight off glass deep in the trees. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

The windshield of another car.

A chill ran down my spine. They were waiting for me. So much for them not knowing where my dad lived.

I pressed the accelerator and zoomed past. No car came out of the trees to follow.

God, all these years of thinking he was safe, of thinking that the scientists didn’t know about him and couldn’t bother him—and yet at any moment they could have so easily swept him into their vicious little net.

So why hadn’t they?

Marsten wasn’t one to hold back from acquiring more test subjects, so maybe they simply didn’t realize Dad was dragon. Maybe they’d been watching him for a while, but had never seen him change, never seen him play with fire, and just presumed he was human.

But how would they have known where he lived in the first place? It wasn’t something Mom could have told them, because she didn’t know. They’d snatched her before we’d moved to America.

And all I’d taken over to Scotland with me was some cash and a couple of credit cards. I’d had no intentions of being there long, and had figured I’d have no reason not to be there illegally. God, I’d been so arrogantly confident—and a stupidly easy target.

Could I have told them?

As I’d told Trae, I’d been knocked out many a time over the years. Maybe they’d found some sort of truth drug that worked with our body chemistry. Maybe I’d babbled my heart out, and just hadn’t known about it.

And if that were the case, it was just as well I didn’t know all that much about my relatives. At least I wouldn’t have been able to betray them as well.

So what did I do now?

With a shortrange tracker embedded in one of my teeth, I couldn’t go too near those men. It’d be my luck that they’d have a receiver.

But I still had to get to the house. Still had to see how my dad was. And that left me only the option of going through the trees and walking along the shore. That should put enough distance between the tracker in my tooth and any receiver the men might have.

I drove off the highway and followed what looked to be little more than a deer track deep into the trees, until there was nothing more to see than shadows and tree trunks. After switching off the engine, I opened the door and got out. The scent of balsam and rotting leaf matter filled the air, but I could feel the closeness of the bay. The energy of it seemed to caress my skin, making it tingle.

Home, I thought, and felt a smile touch my lips.

I shoved the car keys into my pocket and walked through the tree trunks, following the faint whiff of water down to the bay’s boulder-strewn shoreline.

I had no real memories of Loch Ness. I might have been born in its dark, murky waters, but Dad and I had moved here when I was barely six years old. This was the home of my heart. It was here I’d been raised, here I’d learned how to swim and dive, to hunt and fish, and to be all that a sea dragon could be. All under my dad’s watchful gaze and tutelage.

The image of him sitting on a chair, casually drinking a beer as the moonlight played through his blond hair, had tears stinging my eyes. Damn it, I
missed
him. Missed him so much my heart seemed to ache under the weight of it.

And suddenly I was running up the beach. Waves lapped at my toes, tingling touches of power that seemed filled with welcoming. But I no time to stop and play, because time was running out for my dad.

Our old log home, with its sharply angled green-iron roof and vast array of windows came into view. Despite the urgency hammering at my soul, I slowed. There was no sign of movement near the house, and no sound to be heard other than the whisper of water across stone and sand. There was no sign that anyone had been near the place for months, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t.

I jogged into the shadows offered by the pines, spruces, and cedars that formed a U-shaped windbreak around our house, and slowed as I neared one of the side windows. With every sense alert to catch any sound or movement, I crept forward and peered past the sill. The living room was filled with sunshine, and dust lay thick on the coffee table and along the top of the old leather sofas. Dad had never been the world’s best housekeeper, but even he wouldn’t let the dust get this thick.

Frowning, trying to ignore the fear beginning to clog my throat, I ducked past the window and moved to the back door. Again, no one appeared to be near. After another quick look around, I slipped my hand past the potted remains of a sorry-looking raspberry bush and lightly dug at the soil. My fingers touched metal and relief slithered through me. At least some things hadn’t changed.

I pulled out the key, wiped off the dirt, then slipped along the porch to the door. The key slid in after a bit of jiggling, and the door opened.

The ticking of the grandfather clock sitting in the dining room filled the silence, and the air was thick with age and dust. I walked through the mudroom and laundry room into the kitchen. The dishes that lay in the sink were coated with sludge so thick it had to have been brewing for weeks, at least.

Dad wasn’t here. And he hadn’t been here for some time, if those dishes were anything to go by.

Again fear ran through me, thicker than before. I took several deep breaths to calm myself, and tried to remember who he might have turned to if things had taken a turn for the worse. Really, there would only be one person. Our family had never been big on making friends, and we’d pretty much kept to ourselves over our years here. I had friends at school, of course, but none of them ever knew what I was. Or what Dad was.
That
was a secret I had never been tempted to reveal—not after my mother’s kidnapping and our subsequent flight.

I couldn’t remember Dad with friends. It was always just him and me, and I think he preferred it that way. Which meant he could only have turned to old Doc Macy for help.

One of the boards on the back porch creaked. My heart just about jumped out of my chest and my mouth went dry. I flattened back against the refrigerator and reached for the cooking pot that was always sitting on the stove top. I wrapped my fingers around the wooden handle, my knuckles just about white as I listened to the whisper-soft footsteps moving toward the door.

“Destiny?” Trae said softly.

I blew out a breath, twin surges of relief and anger flying through me. Anger won. “What the hell are you doing here? You promised to leave.”

He stepped into the room somewhat cautiously. He glanced at the pot still clenched in my hand, and amusement briefly touched his lips. “I did leave.”

“But you weren’t
supposed
to come back. You were supposed to be returning the ring to your father so you could find your sister.” I slammed the pot back on the stove. “You know, the one that’s in trouble? Remember?”

Annoyance flared in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

“So why are you standing here instead?”

“Damn it, how can I leave when Egan is dead, and
you
came so close to death?” His voice rose slightly, anger, frustration, and worry all evident in the rich depths. “Those bastards are still out there, and they still have a means of tracking you. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. I couldn’t live without you.”

Warmth flared through my heart, through my soul, and my feet wanted to do a happy little dance, even though I knew that
this
was wrong, that he should be more worried about his sister than me.
She
was family. I wasn’t. Not yet.

“But what if something happens to your sister when you’re here helping me? Could you live with that?”

“No.” He thrust a hand through his hair, and blew out a breath. “I rang my mother and asked her what she was feeling about Mercy. She still feels she’s in trouble, but it’s not life or death type trouble. I’m trusting her instinct. It’s all I can do.”

“But—”

“No,” he said forcefully. “This is my decision, my right, my choice. If something does happen, I’ll deal with it. But I can’t leave you to handle this situation alone. I won’t.”

I studied him for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him close. Listening to his breathing, feeling the rapid beating of his heart.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer still as his lips brushed the top of my head.

“If something happens to her, then I’m going to have to live with it, too,” I said softly, my words getting lost against the wool of his sweater.

“If something
does
happen, it will not be your fault, just as Egan’s death was not your fault. You cannot take the blame for other people’s decisions, Des. That’s not fair to
them
.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t agree, and no amount of words would ever take away the guilt that lingered deep inside, but there was no point in going on about it. It was just something we were never going to agree on.

And I just hoped that his sister’s trouble wasn’t anything too big or life-threatening.

“Where’s your dad?” he said, after a while.

I pulled away from the warmth of his arms. “Not here. He hasn’t been here for a few weeks, by the look of it.”

I walked past him into the dust-covered living room and then up the stairs that led to the bedrooms. Dad’s was the closest to the landing, mine up at the far end. A bathroom and a study separated the two rooms, and a quick glance inside the study revealed the usual array of books and papers surrounding Dad’s computer. He might have lost one of his arms, but he’d never lost his love for reading and writing. As I looked at all the piles of paper scattered about, I wondered if he’d achieved his dream of being published in the eleven years I’d been gone. I hoped so. It just wouldn’t be fair to have
all
his dreams amount to nothing.

Tears stung my eyes again, but I blinked them back. Find him first, I thought. Cry later. Trae briefly touched my shoulder, but it was a touch so light it would have been easy to believe I was imagining it. Except for the fact that warmth spread like wildfire through my body, filling me with strength and momentarily washing away the sadness.

“We’ll find him,” he said softly.

“I know.” I pushed Dad’s bedroom door open. The bed was unmade, the patchwork comforter I’d made for his eightieth birthday trailing on the floor. A dragon’s life span was usually at least double that of a human, but we’d both known the diabetes would snatch him from this world well before he ever reached those sort of illustrious years. But I’d always expected him to at least hit a hundred and ten.

My eyes went to the bedside table. The phone was on the hook, but the address book was open. I walked across. Doc Macy’s number stood out starkly on the page. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Lubec Medical Center. How may I help you?”

My mouth suddenly felt dry again, and I had to swallow before I could speak. “I’d like to speak to Doc Macy, please.”

“One moment, please.”

And then I was on hold, listening to what sounded like elevator music for a good five minutes. Trae moved up behind me, not actually touching, but close enough that the heat of him pressed into my spine. It felt safer—which I guess was odd considering the man himself was as far from safe as I could ever get.

“Doc Macy here,” a deep voice suddenly said into the receiver, making me jump a little. “How can I help you?”

“Doc, it’s Destiny here. Rian McCree’s daughter.”

“Jesus, girl, where have you been for these last eleven years? Your dad worried himself sick.”

“It’s a long story, Doc, and not one I can explain over the phone. Where’s my dad?”

“He’s in Lubec. We had to move him into a nursing home.”

I rubbed a hand across my eyes, fighting the sting. Fighting the fear. “How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad. The disease has taken his feet, and most of his internals are on their last legs. I don’t actually know how he’s holding on.”

He’s waiting for me, I thought. He knows I’m coming. “Where is he?”

“Twin Pines Nursing Home. It’s run by a friend of mine—one who understands your dad’s needs.”

Understood what he was, in other words. At least we didn’t have to worry about medical staff uncovering odd genetic differences and reporting them. “Then you’ll know he won’t want to die in that place.”

“No.” Doc Macy paused. “I’d advise heading straight there, Destiny. He hasn’t got long.”