Marked by Destiny Page 20

“It’s hard to say. Time passes much differently in the Faerie Realm. A day in there could be a year or more in the human world and sometimes a week will pass in the Faerie Realm and no time has passed in your world.”

  “You pass between the dimensions often, right?”

  “Enough.”

  “Then what are some of your earliest memories of things happening in the human world?”

  Kalen hesitated, not wanting to scare her. “Let’s just say I’ve seen most of the kings and queens of the Isles throughout time.”

  Avery stared absently, trying to process what Kalen had just confided. It was surreal to think he had been around for so long. “Am I immortal too?”

  “It’s unlikely.”

  “But you think I might be able to unlock the spell on the Four Treasures and use them? I don’t understand. Why didn’t one of the other half-breeds unlock the spell?”

  He smiled faintly. “No, not every half-breed has the power to weld the Treasures, but you can.”

  “How can you can you be certain?”

  “Because you have the mark of destiny.”

  “The what?” She replied.

  “The marking on your wrist, the three spiraling interlocking orbs. It’s called the Mark of Destiny. They represent the three blue stones of Atlantis, where the Four Treasures originated. It announces to all that you can weld the power of the Treasures.”

  Running her fingers over the marking on her wrist, she asked, “I’ve read a little about the Four Treasures in folklore, but what are they? Why are they so important?”

  “The Treasures are the Stone of Destiny, the Sword, the Spear, and the Caldron. With them, you can cross portals of time and space, access all the secret truths of the universe, heal the sick, and conquer your enemies. They’re hidden in a place called the Cave of Treasures inside the Mountain of God, illuminated by the perpetual flame of life.”

  Avery closed her eyes, remembering her strange dream with the four cloaked figures and flame burning above a glittering gold box. No matter how much she had craved answers for her entire life, she wasn’t sure she was happy now that she had them. She was scared she would fail, that she wouldn’t be enough, just like she wasn’t enough for Dierdre. It was too much responsibility.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  He regarded her intently, and she sensed him trying to invade her mind again. Now that she knew what he was doing, she recognized the tangible pressure of his mental invasion.

  “You choose your side,” he said. “Then we wait.”

  “I think you already chose for me. Remember, in exchange for this information, I agreed to go with you. That was the deal wasn’t it, or am I wrong??”

  “Did you change your mind already?” He taunted.

  “No, not yet,” she shot back. “What are we waiting for?”

  “We’re waiting for the window to open, so I can take you with me into the Fae Realm.”

  “Where is the window to the Faerie Realm?”

  “Just west of Tuam, near Cnoc Meadha.”

  “How do you know when it will open?”

  “It generally corresponds with the cycle of the moon, but I can see when it happens. It’s like the veil between the worlds becomes slightly transparent, shimmering with an iridescent glow.”

  “When will that happen?”

  He looked at his watch. “Less than twenty four hours.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  He arched one dark eyebrow. “I suggest you rest. You’ll need all your energy for the journey ahead of you, and I need to prepare.”

  She wanted to argue, but she didn’t care. He effectively dismissed her from his presence. She’d only been awake for four or five hours, but she didn’t feel like staring at him in silence for an entire day. Standing up from the sofa, she retreated from the living room, weary and emotionally shaken.

  When her hand was on the doorknob to the bedroom, Kalen’s voice interrupted the silence lingering in the air. “I’ll bring some food into the room for you in a couple hours. I saw some books in the nightstand.”

  Without turning around, she nodded her acceptance and shut the door behind her. She stared at the room that, according to Kalen, had belonged to her parents. A white, metal headboard stood in stark contrast to the dingy blue walls. Fading sunlight shimmered through the curtains. Sighing, she shoved the curtains aside and pushed the dirty window open.

  Bushes lined the stone exterior walls beneath the window. Briefly, she considered climbing out the window and running away from everything, but the despondency she barely kept at bay since Dierdre was murdered convinced her any escape would be a futile attempt at prolonging the inevitable. Accepting her fate, she lay down on top of the disheveled blankets, feeling the uncertainty of her future engulf her.

  Peter’s anger was so thick he could taste it in the air. Sitting in a chair in the corner of his hotel room, he stared at his phone, willing Avery to call or send him a text. She promised to meet him for breakfast that morning, but as the hours of the day dwindled and darkness threatened to settle in once again, Peter knew she wasn’t going to contact him.

  Earlier, he agreed to call Flannigan before noon to make a status report, but when Avery failed to call, he spent the better part of the day dodging Flannigan’s calls and texts. When Flannigan became almost aggressive in his persistence, Peter had sent him as short text saying “no news.”

  Flannigan didn’t bother to respond, and he had left Peter alone for three almost blissful hours. At four in the afternoon, he had finally given in and called Avery’s cell phone, but his call went directly to voicemail. That felt like the final death knell in a daylong march of dwindling hope.

  Running out of options, he picked up his phone and called Grace. She answered his call almost immediately.

  “Ah, Peter, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  He hesitated, not sure what to tell her. “I was just curious—have you heard from Avery recently?” The moment he said it, he knew it was the wrong opening to the conversation. He could feel her anger radiating through the phone.

  “It’s always been about Avery for you, hasn’t it?” she snapped.

  “Let’s not go there,” he said, the exasperation in his voice obvious. He debated whether he should hang up the phone.

  “Fine, Peter, what do you want?”

  “I’m concerned about Avery. I’m in Galway on business and we planned to meet for breakfast to touch base on some work projects, but she never showed. When I call her cell phone, it sends me directly to voicemail.”

  “When did you arrange that?”

  “It was a last minute thing. Have you heard from her recently?”

  “No. I’ve left messages, but I haven’t heard from her in a couple days except a quick text saying she was okay. She’s probably busy with Dierdre and she forgot about your meeting.”

  “Have you heard anything about Dierdre?” Peter questioned in a light tone.

  “No. Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Peter, I have to go. I’m late for a meeting,” Grace said curtly.

  “If you talk to her, tell her to call me. Oh, and do you have the phone number for her aunt?”

  “Not with me, but I’m sure it is somewhere in her room. I can look when I get home from work.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. Thanks for your help. Bye.” Feeling time slipping away from him, he ended the call before he heard her response.

  Thomas Flannigan stood on Catherine’s front doorstep, waiting for her to answer the door. He wasn’t in a good mood. His Fae informer failed to make contact, and Peter refused to answer his phone. He didn’t have one credible lead on Avery. When he left the Foundation’s office a half an hour ago, the tension was so thick it was almost visible, and his mood was so foul that everyone had given him a wide berth, fearing for their jobs and lives.

  Just when he raised his hand to bang on the door more forcibly, a slender woman with dark b
londe hair threaded with gray opened the door enough that Thomas could see the right half of her body. Thomas planted his hand on the inside of the exposed doorframe.

  “Well hello, Catherine, it has been a while. I was curious whether you would open the door or if I would need to force my way inside,” he said, flashing the gun holster on the inside of his cashmere overcoat.

  “I thought you’d show up here sooner or later,” Catherine said, her voice raw with alarm. “Maybe I can expedite this visit. I have no clue where Avery is and that I haven’t heard from her in days.”

  “Why don’t you let me in and we can discuss what you do or don’t know in a civil manner? I’d like to extend my condolences for the loss of your daughter.”

  “Glad to know I will no longer be denied the title of mother,” Catherine said bitterly. Opening the door fully, she retreated to the living room.

  Choosing not to respond, Thomas settled himself in a chair adjacent to the fireplace. Catherine remained standing, obviously uncomfortable being close to him.

  “So why are you here, Thomas? Are you going to kill me too?”

  “I see you put the pieces together. I’m impressed. Think of Dierdre’s death as a mercy killing. She was sick and in pain. I helped her along. I think she was grateful I put her out of her misery. Killing her had a poetic justice to it. Don’t you think? I gave her a new life, and then I took it away.”

  “I see you still harbor delusions of grandeur.”

  Thomas smiled and leaned forward in his seat. “Who needs delusions when reality is better? I have a vision for the future, and for my vision to come to fruition, I need Avery. Once I find her, my plan will be simple enough to implement. I just need to get rid of any remaining impediments. I’d like a clean slate.”

  Catherine folded her arms across her chest. “Remaining impediments. What are those in your mind these days?”

  “As you probably guessed, Dierdre was an impediment. I took care of her, so that one is off my list. I am planning to take out any remaining Faerie operatives, and that will take time and careful planning, so that has to be a long-term goal. There are one or two people that need to go inside the Foundation, but I will work on that after I have Avery. That leaves only one impediment I can take care of right now. I figured while I was waiting for Avery to surface, I could clean house. You know, use my time wisely and all that.”

  Catherine swallowed hard. “I guess that’s the reason for the gun.”

  “No one ever accused you of being slow on the uptake. You always saw the whole picture more clearly than Dierdre. She was so malleable. Manipulating her was like pulling the strings on a puppet. Give Dierdre a few compliments and she was like putty in your hands, or bed for that matter. You, on the other hand, fought me every step of the way. You didn’t want to let the Foundation replace you as Avery’s grandmother and Dierdre’s mother with that kind old woman who happened to be a Foundation operative. When we threatened Dierdre if she didn’t leave Avery and let that same Foundation operative raise her, you advised Dierdre to hold her ground and not abandon Avery to a stranger. Dierdre was right, by the way. We would have killed her if she didn’t leave. She was getting in the way and having Avery raised by a Foundation operative was cleaner anyway.”

  “You’re a lying, murderous, bastard,” Catherine said through clenched teeth as she walked backwards out of the living room.

  Thomas got up from his seat and shrugged. “I do what I need to do. I didn’t want to kill Dierdre. I was happy to let her wither away and die, but you sealed the nail in her coffin. Your conscience got the best of you. You told her to come clean and disclose everything to Avery. I couldn’t let that happen. You forced my hand.”

  “Avery will never go with you. She will fight. She’s not like Dierdre. She can’t be manipulated.” Catherine’s voice was flat, accepting of her fate. She continued to walk backwards until she bumped into the side of the entryway table.

  Thomas raised his gun. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think she was trained well. She will perform when given the right incentive.”

  Catherine’s hands swept the surface of the heavily lacquered table pressing into her lower back. “How are you going to cover up my death? It won’t be as easy as hiding Dierdre’s murder.”

  “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you. It might be too difficult to cover up your death without any inquiries.” When he saw relief flash across her face, he smiled, amused with her reaction. “On second thought, I could probably come up with something. Maybe I’ll snap your neck and throw you down the stairs. An old lady falling down the stairs wouldn’t be newsworthy.”

  When Thomas looked away to point at the stairs to the loft with his gun, Catherine seized the moment and hurled a cut crystal vase with as much force as she could muster at his head. Caught off guard, he was unable to move before the vase crashed into the side of his head. His head whipped sideways with the impact, and he stumbled backwards into the entryway wall. Raising his hand to his head, he froze in shock when he felt the thick, wet ooze of blood dripping from a gash on his forehead.

  Catherine ignored Thomas’ violent curse and raced up the stairs to the loft bedroom.

  Thomas watched her from the bottom of the stairs as she flung the closet door open, frantically tossing clothing, boxes, and books to the floor looking for something. When she found what she wanted, she slid it into the waistband of her skirt and covered it with her shirt.

  “Find what you’re looking for?” Thomas’ voice echoed through the room.

  Catherine flinched then her hand froze on the bottom of her sweater as she turned to face him.

  “I planned to make your death quick and painless, but now you pissed me off, and I think a slow death might be in order.”

  Catherine inched backwards, circling the perimeter of the room with Thomas stalking after her like a predator. Thomas could see defeat closing in on her as she let out a bitter laugh.

  “Do tell Catherine, what’s so amusing?” Thomas asked, clearly befuddled by the reaction to her impending death.

  “I don’t want to trouble you with the thoughts of an old woman,” Catherine responded as she wrapped her hand around the wooden railing of the stairs.

  “I find I’m oddly curious what thoughts run through the mind of a dying person.”

  Catherine inched her way down the stairs. “I think you’ll find out soon enough.” She reached for the item hidden in her waistband.

  Recognizing the bright flash of metal as a gun, Thomas lunged for Catherine, shoving her down the stairs. As she hurled backward, her head crashed against the final wooden step, leaving her limp body sprawled across the base of the stairs.

  He followed her down the stairs, hovering over her as he checked her pulse. Catherine was unconscious, not dead, but judging from the weakness of her heartbeat and the odd angle of her neck, she wouldn’t live much longer. Smiling, he grabbed the gun Catherine had been holding and walked out the front door of the house, shutting it behind him. Just as he reached the car, his cell phone rang. Looking at the number, he thought that this day just kept getting better.

  It was nearly dark when Kalen finally entered the bedroom to bring Avery some food. He hated waiting for sufficient time to pass so he could bring her something to eat. Pushing her away and holding her prisoner in the bedroom was the only way he could give himself some much needed space and perspective. He promised to do anything necessary to bring this mission to a successful conclusion, and yet he was so tempted to bend that promise or break it entirely that time alone was imperative. Sitting in the room with her earlier felt like a betrayal of both the mission and Avery. His desire to protect her clashed with his oath to either deliver her to the Queen or kill her. His growing feelings for her had to be stifled before he completely lost his perspective.

  After putting a plate of food on the dresser near the door, he studied Avery’s body resting soundlessly on her back. Heavy shadowing of the bed prevented him from determ
ining whether she was awake, so he turned to leave. Her voice stopped his retreat.

  “After dismissing me earlier, I was beginning to suspect you had no intention of feeding me.”

  He flipped on the light switch and carried the plate to the nightstand, putting it down unceremoniously.

  She sat up in the bed and leaned on a pillow propped against the headboard.

  “Are you hungry, then?” he said. “I found some crackers and a can of soup in the pantry. The crackers might be stale, but hopefully you’ll get a decent meal tomorrow morning.”

  “After we crossover?” She picked up a few stale crackers, crumbled them in her soup, and stirred her soup until it swirled in circles without the aid of her spoon. Mindlessly, she watched the motion of her soup then put the spoon back on the nightstand.

  “Yes, we can leave in the morning, but right now you need to eat.” Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, he picked up the spoon. “Open your mouth,” he demanded.

  Shaking her head while laughing at the fierce look on his face, she grabbed the spoon, spilling soup on his pants. “Sorry about that,” she said, pointing at the wet mark on his pant leg. “But I’m not an infant. I don’t need you to feed me.”

  “Then eat,” he said, his voice softening in response to her playful mood. He liked her like this. It was better than her prior moods that alternated between anger and fear.

  Lifting of the spoon, she took a few sips of soup. “What are we going to do for the rest of the night?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Nothing in particular. Just don’t suggest I stay in this room by myself staring at the ceiling for ten more hours. I’ll go mad with boredom.”

  “Now that you’ve called me out for leaving you alone for so long, I have to think of something good,” he joked. “But first you have to finish that entire bowl of soup.”

  Avery scrunched up her face. He leaned over, running his hands down the sides of her face, smoothing the lines of her features. Surprised, Avery sat silently and stared alternately at his eyes and his mouth. Kalen looked away, his eyes searching every corner and crevice of the room and then slowly returned his gaze to her. He sensed her desire to be held by him despite her attempts to keep her face neutral.