Page 1 of Destined for Eternity
Chapter 1
Cori
When one runs a business, they’re always happy for more customers, but the reception area of Cori’s tattoo shop was packed almost beyond capacity. People sat in every available chair and even more milled around the place. Several young women stood together at the wall next to the large front windows, checking out the designs displayed there. For the last few weeks, the shop couldn’t keep up with all the folks coming in to get tattoos. Cori had finally had to put in a television set so her customers had something to do while waiting their turn.
She stood behind the counter and rubbed her aching back. “I can’t believe how busy we’ve gotten lately.”
“It’s a good thing you hired me when you did,” Ginny said, standing next to her as she cashed out the latest client. “I’ve never done so many tattoos in such a short time.”
“It wasn’t always this way.”
Business had started picking up at the start of the New Year. It was more than welcome after a major lull before that. But by the end of January, Cori realized she and her only other employee, Asher, could not handle the workload by themselves anymore. Not to mention she was due to have a baby at the end of May and needed someone to cover for her while she took time off.
She’d interviewed several humans first, but none of them fit in well. Her criteria had been strict. They had to bring something new with their work that would attract a different set of clients, yet they couldn’t stand out in a way that would draw the wrong kind of attention, and they had to be tough enough to hold their own for those times when trouble brewed. In Fairbanks, Alaska—a haven for supernaturals—peace rarely lasted long, especially since the world had found out humans weren’t at the top of the food chain. There were beings far more powerful and dangerous out there.
After two weeks of interviews with no luck finding a new employee, Ginny had strutted her way through the shop door, arms covered in vine and flower tattoos. Her body was petite with curves that would turn any man’s head, and she had shoulder-length purple hair (her natural color) with light purple freckles on her fair cheeks. She definitely wasn’t human, which didn’t fit Cori’s rigid criteria. The pixie, a breed of fae, stood no more than 4’10” high and looked like a stiff breeze could knock her over. There was no way anyone would take her seriously or want her to work on them with her otherworldly appearance.
Then she produced her portfolio, which had some of the most amazing work Cori had ever seen. It was vivid and mesmerizing. Ginny had just relocated from Tulsa, Oklahoma where things were getting uncomfortable for supernaturals. She had twin daughters—Aislin and Dinara. They were five years old with the same purple hair and had become targets for those who didn’t care if children were young and innocent, only that they clearly weren’t “normal.” In Fairbanks, they would be more readily accepted because of the higher concentration of sups. The schools in the area comprised about ten percent of children from werewolf and fae families.
Hearing the pixie’s story weakened Cori’s resolve, especially since her daughters came along with their mother for the interview, adorable in their purple pigtails and polka dot dresses. Their mom needed to work to support them.
But what finally made the decision during the interview was when a heavyset, drunken man came into the shop. He’d demanded a tattoo right then, but they had a policy against working on intoxicated customers. Alcohol tended to make them bleed more and some regretted having the work done later, so Cori didn’t allow it. He became furious when she refused him service, nearly smashing the reception counter.
Ginny couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds, but she picked that man up over her shoulder like he was nothing, flung the front door wide open, and threw him out onto the sidewalk. When he tried coming back into the shop, she punched him so hard he flew six feet into the air, not waking up until she tossed him into the dumpster behind the shopping center. Everyone had watched in wide-eyed shock.
She strutted back toward them and responded, “I might have an eighth of troll blood in my DNA.”
Trolls were ugly, vile creatures with gnarled features that stood even shorter than pixies. Most people couldn’t stand them because, in addition to their unpleasant looks, they weren’t all that nice, and they weren’t very particular about their food sources. Almost anything—or anyone—was on the menu. They were gross and difficult to tolerate.
“You don’t look like you’re part troll,” Cori said after she got over her shock.
Ginny pulled her mussed hair back into a loose French braid. “Luckily, all I inherited was their strength.”
That was good to know.
The interview had continued, and they’d left the angry man to find his own way out of the dumpster. He’d tried pressing charges later, but the incident was caught on surveillance cameras, so the police didn’t give them any trouble. Cori normally could have handled the guy, but she had to be careful now that she had a baby in her belly. She appreciated the idea of having a woman on her staff who could hold her own—human or not—and hired Ginny on the spot.
They’d gotten along well over the past two months since then and the shop had been expanded, using available space that had opened up next door. With a little help from supernatural friends to speed up the remodeling, they were able to add two more booths for artists to work, a separate customer bathroom apart from the small one in the back, and widen the reception area. Ginny helped through the whole process, as well as taking care of clients. Except for the rare person who had an issue with supernaturals, all their customers loved her fun nature.
A soft thump inside Cori’s stomach drew her attention. She rubbed her belly, marveling at how fast it was expanding since she’d become pregnant four and a half months ago. This wasn’t like her first pregnancy when she’d only been twenty years old—with a daughter she’d lost later in a tragic accident with her ex-husband. This time she was thirty-one, and her child was only partly human. Everything felt totally different.
Cori appeared closer to seven months, but that was because the gestation period moved faster for supernatural children, particularly ones with angel blood in them. This little boy or girl—she and Bartol had chosen not to find out the gender until their child was born—would arrive sometime at the end of May. That was a little over six weeks away. Cori was nervous, but she had a vampire doctor who was giving her the best care possible. Having said that, the last baby born with nephilim blood was over fifty years ago. They didn’t have a lot of precedents to draw upon, and she doubted every pregnancy of this nature went exactly the same.
The shop door suddenly flew open with such force it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. Everyone froze at the sight of the short woman with bright orange hair who entered. She hadn’t bothered to use any glamour to cover up her gnarled features or razor-sharp teeth. One of the customers screamed, and others started backing away slowly as if they faced someone armed with a machine gun. Trolls didn’t need weapons to look dangerous or intimidating. Give them a fork, and they’d be as vicious as any serial killer.
“Dammit, Bambi,” Cori said, moving around the counter to come closer to her visitor. “You’re scaring people.”
The troll let out a huff and gestured toward the television. “Don’t ya be lecturin’ me, young lady. Now turn on the news!”
“Why?”
“Just do it afore I get mad!”
Ginny already had the remote in her hands, changing the channel. As she turned the volume up, gasps rose up around the room. Cori swung her gaze toward the far corner where the television hung. Her eyes widened at the scene on the screen. What they were seeing was like something out of a movie.
“We be doomed,” the troll said ominously. She was such a drama queen with a knack for ruining the English language.
But no one was paying attention to her anymore. On the screen, three figures in dark capes walked along the sidewalk in downtown Chicago with dark smoke surrounding them. Everyone who they came near froze in place. They reached the front of a large building with lion statues—according to the newscaster it was the Art Institute of Chicago—and the doors swung open of their own accord. The first footage came from a cell phone recording that had to be someone across the street based on the angle. The news station switched to a surveillance recording inside the institute next as the figures entered the lobby.
