Page 3 of Charmed By Destiny

He opened his eyes. Immediately annoyed that someone had woken him up, Luke frowned. His irritation disappeared a heartbeat later as he took in the frantic expression on his dearest friend’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked, shaking off any last vestiges of the lovely fantasy his sleeping mind had conjured for him. He sprang out of bed to confront whatever trouble they were facing.

“Hurry,” insisted Foxe Arwynn, the necromancer who’d summoned Luke a decade ago. His voice was strained. “Grab your stuff, we need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t the first time Luke had been shaken awake, and he held in his disappointed sigh. He didn’t have to ask what had happened. Foxe was a gambling addict and, since the death of his father, had no means to support either of them. They’d make a little and set it aside to pay things like rent or cover a few nights at a motel like the one Luke was standing in. But inevitably, Foxe would sneak out and lose it in a casino.

Foxe rushed to gather his clothing, and Luke made swift work of securing his few belongings. It was easier to flee with less. Plus, anything of value had long ago been pawned to feed Foxe’s habit. Luke switched from pajamas to jeans, put on his sneakers, then slipped his backpack on.

“Are you ready?” Foxe asked breathlessly. Luke nodded and glanced at the other double bed. The blankets were untouched, which meant Foxe hadn’t bothered to go to bed. He’d probably waited only long enough for Luke to fall asleep before sneaking out.

They crept out of the motel, and Foxe led them to their car. Thankfully, Luke had filled the gas tank earlier. He’d earned a little money helping the elderly owner of the motel with odd jobs around the property but told Foxe about none of it. That allowed Luke to keep a little cash secret so they wouldn’t starve.

“What happened?” Luke asked, though he already knew the answer as they left the parking lot of the motel. He hated that the owner would wake up to find them gone. The man couldn’t afford to have non-paying guests, but there was no use explaining that to Foxe. Luke had tried countless times through the years to get through to his necromancer. It was futile.

“I was on a winning streak. I swear it, Luke. Things were going great. The odds were in my favor. I think that shitty casino decided I’d won too much. Next thing I know, my chips are gone.”

It wasn’t a new story. Foxe was always on a winning streak, and it was never his fault he’d lost everything. Luke wasn’t sure if he was that deluded or if it resulted from his privileged upbringing. From the stories Luke had heard, the Arwynns were ridiculously wealthy. But Foxe and his father had had a falling out.

Weston Arwynn had cut off his youngest son. Somehow, Foxe had eventually convinced his father to pay for a condo and give him a little money each month. That was the existence Luke had known for years. Then Weston had died. Unlike Luke’s inspirit self, necromancers were immortal. So, it had to have been foul play.

Unfortunately for Foxe, his eldest brother was given everything. Rowan Arwynn had sold the condo Luke called home and closed the bank account Weston had opened for Foxe. Irate, Foxe had gone to the Arwynn mansion but was barred from entering. Luke had sat in a car outside the massive house in Washington, DC, marveling at the impressive home and wondering how much it cost to keep the grounds so neat as Foxe screamed at his brother to let him in.

It hadn’t worked. No one inside had budged. Since that day, Foxe and Luke had slunk from city to city. Although Luke loved Foxe, he hated living with uncertainty.

“You believe me, right, Luke?”

Luke had been so lost in thought, he’d forgotten that he’d asked Foxe a question. “Yeah, of course. So, where are we headed?”

“Las Vegas.”

His dark brows flew up. “Vegas?” Although Foxe was a consummate gambler, he believed his odds were better in smaller establishments.

“Yeah, I think I have a solution for us.”

“Foxe, we don’t have any money.”

“I know, that’s why this is perfect,” Foxe said, his hazel gaze glued to the road as if he was afraid to make eye contact with Luke, which immediately raised his hackles. “I ran into this guy at the casino. A necro like me. He told me about this family. The Marwoods. It sounded familiar. Rowan probably knows them, but we aren’t going to let that bother us.”

“Okay, what about the Marwoods?”

“They own casinos and some other shit all over the world, but they’re currently based in Vegas.”

“I’m not saying you won’t run into some good luck, but if we have to run, it’ll be harder to get away from necromancers. You’re the one who told me that. They live forever and don’t involve human authorities. We could be really fucked.”

“It’s not like that, Luke. This is legit shit. Look, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to tell you. The Marwoods are famous for more than their money and casinos. According to this dude, they also help inspirits. Like, they collect them. Give them jobs. Put roofs over their heads. All kinds of shit. They spread the word as best they can—since necros hate to communicate with each other—to let everyone know they’ll take care of any inspirits abandoned by their summoners.”

Luke frowned. “We don’t know any abandoned inspirits.”

Although Luke had heard tales of necromancers who’d resurrected inspirits and decided to cut them loose, he’d never met one. According to Foxe, the Arwynns cared for theirs—even Rowan, and he was an asshole.

“But if you went to them and claimed to be abandoned, they’d take care of you. With your job, we’d have income. You could give me your earnings, and I’d double or triple it. I don’t know what they’d be paying you, but it couldn’t be too long until we’d have enough to buy ourselves a place to live. Then you could quit, and we’d be swimming in cash.”

Luke raised his arm and clutched a handful of his dark waves. The hardest part of Foxe’s gambling disorder was his inability to comprehend how unrealistic his expectations for the future were. It didn’t matter that they were literally running away and committing a crime by not paying their bills; Foxe still believed his luck would change at any moment.

“I don’t want to be pessimistic about this plan, but you met this necro tonight, right? How do you know he’s even telling the truth?”

“He gave me a number to call. We’ll contact these Marwoods in the morning. If he’s wrong, we’ll scrounge up some cash in Vegas and hit the tables. But this could be good if it’s true, Luke. I’ll call you every couple of weeks to wire me some cash. We’ll have to wait for paydays and shit. Regular work schedules are such shit, but we’re forced to conform to society.”

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