Page 43 of Touched By Destiny

“Okay, Dad, stop complimenting me,” Eric said, trying to keep from blushing at his father’s praise. “I only get frustrated when I think about how necros have been around forever but I have to test basic theories because I can’t consult a history or magic book.”

“I understand, I’ve felt that way too. We don’t even know how many of our people exist. Such basic stuff, and it’ll remain a mystery.”

“Do you really think humans would react with anger or fear?” Eric asked. “Sometimes I wonder if they’d just be fascinated and willing to learn more about us if they knew we were real.”

His father shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve met some wonderful humans and an equal number of awful ones. And very few of my own race. No one can predict what would happen to necromancers. But I can tell you that if we don’t start bringing in the rest of these dishes, your mother is going to wring our necks.”

Eric stood and hugged his dad before he grabbed his plates. The way his uncle had spoken still bothered him on some level. It was awful, but Eric was glad the man wasn’t around much if he held such a low opinion of him. The last thing Eric wanted was to be a disappointment to anyone—especially a family member—but Alden had spent no time getting to know him.

So, Eric put little stock in his words and secretly hoped Alden would stick to his current schedule of rarely stopping by. The man had easily dismissed Maribeth and kicked her outof her house without notice or thought. That bothered Eric far more than anything Alden had to say about his destiny-touched abilities or reading preferences.

Chapter 19

Two weeks after the dinner with Alden, Maribeth was a permanent member of Clark and Rosalind’s household. Richard had recruited everyone, including Gabriel, to pack her things up and move them. Maribeth had shed a few tears but had mostly been resolute about the abrupt change in her life. Gabriel was still pissed at Alden’s casual indifference toward his only daughter.

And he continued to fume about the things Alden had said to Eric. Both Maribeth and Eric pretended as if Alden hadn’t been a rude asshole, but Gabriel wasn’t fooled. Neither were the Marwoods. However, they didn’t press. All three of the young Marwoods were stubborn and strong and would confide things to their families at their own pace.

With so much to do—gathering memories from Maribeth’s house—Gabriel had spent little time alone with Eric except for ghost-hunts and the occasional night at his house chatting for an hour and sharing a beer.

Next to Gabriel, Eric was biting his lip as the armored car cruised down the street.

“Do you think you could convince Connor to meet you somewhere else?”

Eric turned his head, and his blue gaze was more thoughtful than dreamy. “I’m not sure.”

“We keep meeting him at the same spot at the same time every morning. Patterns are dangerous.”

“I’ll talk to him. Do you think my uncle really knows about other destiny-touched necros?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel replied. “We were friendly thirty years ago, but I’m not sure I ever knew him well. Did you ask your parents?”

“They have these dreams of a big happy family. I’m not sure I share that image anymore. I can’t stand the way he treats Mari. If I get into a conversation with my parents, I might say something critical of Uncle Alden that hurts their feelings. I’d prefer to avoid that.”

“We know he travels a lot,” Gabriel replied. “If your theory is right, and the population of people like you is robust, then it’s plausible, I suppose.”

“I guess if I had an actual job, I could bump into people too,” Eric muttered.

“You have a job.”

“A job has a salary.”

Frustrated, Gabriel frowned. “And you’d have one. It was your choice to tell your parents you didn’t want them to pay you to talk to ghosts. Think about how you feel when you finally reunite a spirit with their loved ones. I can’t see the portals or the ghosts, but I know your face. And it’s worthwhile to you.”

“It’s rewarding, but I don’t see myself as their savior or anything. I’m just trying to help who I can.”

“I know.”

“You also give people a second chance at living, like our Paxton up there, pretending not to listen to our every conversation,” Gabriel said, referring to their resurrected driver.

“Hey, I totally love being alive,” Paxton remarked without taking his gray eyes off the road. “And your conversations aren’t nearly as interesting as you think.”

Eric chuckled. “We probably talk about the same thing a lot.”

“That you do,” Paxton replied. “I enjoy hearing about your ghosts though. Sometimes I wonder if I was once a lost spirit and someone like you helped me. It’s comforting to know that you can hear the lost. Honestly, it’s fucked up that there are people in the world who can’t appreciate your gifts and think the destiny-touched shouldn’t exist.”

“What if we have it wrong?” Eric asked.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel inquired.

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