Page 92 of Touched By Destiny

“Have it your way,” Alden replied. “I’m going to go eat dinner. I’ll be back. Then we’ll find out the extent of your gifts. The ones you gained by stealing the life of the only person I’ve truly loved.”

Alden slammed out of the room and locked Eric alone inside. His uncle hated the destiny-touched, but Eric needed his gifts. It was the only way out.

Chapter 37

Maribeth Marwood’s curiosity was getting the best of her. Despite devoting herself fully to her father and a fresh start, her trip to California wasn’t working out. Although her dad had been kind to her before her arrival, he ignored her much of the time now. They shared breakfast together, and he’d ask polite questions about the other Marwoods, then disappear for the rest of the day.

It left Maribeth with little to do. She didn’t like the other occupants of the house. Her father’s girlfriend was nice enough, but Rylee followed Alden out the door each day. Maribeth didn’t know where she went, and Rylee sidestepped any of her queries. Her brothers disappeared often, and that was fine with Maribeth.

The Seamor brothers were odd and a trifle scary. Irwyn and Darrien didn’t appear to have jobs or friends. The pair were disgruntled enough about their pasts that they spoke often about their former employment. They’d been cops but had been kicked off the force. The reason was never mentioned. Maribeth found them creepy and had little trouble imagining them doing something nefarious.

Not that she’d ever say that aloud to her father or to the people he shared his house with. The newly purchased home was mostly empty, which was odd. In the past, Maribeth’s father had had a decorator in the door planning the interior the minute he’d signed the contract to own the property. But the beautiful, secluded estate had only the barest essentials.

Maribeth had offered to contact decorators on her father’s behalf, but he’d rebuffed the suggestion. There was no explanation. He’d just given her a flat, final refusal. She tried not to take it personally, but it was difficult not to have her feelings hurt.

It wasn’t the house bothering her though. Maribeth’s issues went much deeper than that. Conversations ceased the minute she walked into a room. No one spoke to her except at breakfast. Not that she wanted to talk to Irwyn or Darrien. Thankfully, they took road trips constantly and rushed into the house to share their adventures with her father in his office.

That room was locked, and Maribeth was told to stay out of it—same with the first-floor bedroom that should’ve served as the primary bedroom. As far as Maribeth knew, it’d been empty since her arrival. Why it required a padlock on the outside of the door was—according to her father—none of her business.

His words hardly dissuaded her curiosity. She loved a good mystery, and she was bored as fuck. If she were smart, she would’ve packed her shit up and returned to her aunt and uncle’s house. From the time she was small, they’d tried to be parents to her. Not that Maribeth had let them.

Instead, she’d convinced herself that someday her father’s grief would lessen enough to allow them to build the relationship of her dreams. It was heartbreaking to learn that she’d deceived herself. All her life she’d wanted to share love and friendship with her only living parent. But it was impossible.

At thirty-one years old, Maribeth had finally realized she’d created a fantasy. She’d deluded herself into believing her father had some caring in his heart for her. The blinders had finally been ripped from her eyes. His gaze was no longer overburdened with grief. Something in recent months or years had helped him heal.

But nothing was going to make him into a good parent. Maribeth had confronted the truth, and she’d soaked her pillowcase with tears for the past week. It was humiliating. She’d pushed away the family that had wanted her and quit a lucrative, rewarding job because of her own warped sense of reality. Although her aunt and uncle would freak out about safety, Maribeth wanted something different for her future.

She needed to spread her wings and build something meaningful for herself on her own. It would be difficult not to have family surrounding her, but she was too mortified to return this way. What Maribeth wanted now was to stand on her own two feet—to find the perfect vocation and have a home of her own. With her past securely behind her, hopefully she’d finally attain her other dream of having a soulmate.

But none of that could happen until Maribeth left the empty house in California littered with the remains of her shattered fantasies. She was already packed and had a plane ticket to Vegas so she could explain her next steps to the people who loved her. And who she adored in return. Her flight would leave in the morning. She hadn’t told her father yet. It wasn’t like he’d care or even notice she was gone.

That was okay. It had to be. Maribeth would walk out with her head held high and put the man who’d failed as a father in her past. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t delve deeper into the weird mysteries at the house first. As usual, her father and his housemates had had their dinner delivered from a nearbyrestaurant—without asking Maribeth what she might want to eat.

Instead of ordering a damn thing, Maribeth had crept down the hall and positioned herself against the wall to overhear what she could in the kitchen where they were gathered. Something was up. That she’d figured out on her own.

The brothers had returned, and a few trips were made to the strangely locked bedroom suite. Unfortunately, her attempted espionage hadn’t paid off the way she’d wanted. All she had been able to hear were a few odd fragments of conversation. It’d heightened her curiosity and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She’d learned someone was in that room. Who were they, and why hadn’t they emerged for a meal?

Maribeth had sprinted away after chairs had scraped against the floor. Her father and Rylee had gone upstairs, presumably to their room given the way they’d been kissing. As for the brothers, they had headed out to the back patio to smoke. They’d each had a six-pack of beer in their hand. If tonight was anything like their usual trips out there, it’d be at least an hour before they walked in reeking of smoke and chortling.

As for Maribeth, she wasn’t done spying. Her socked feet made no noise as she sneaked to the other side of the house. What she found raised the little hairs on the back of her neck. The door was padlocked from the outside despite someone being in there.

Was that person in the house against their will? She knocked, but there was no response. Were they sleeping and didn’t want to be disturbed? Her gaze narrowed as she debated what to do. It didn’t take her long to decide. The light inside was on. She was curious, and if they were already abed despite leaving a lamp on, she’d slip out and go upstairs to wait out her last hours with her dad.

The lock was a barrier that wouldn’t deter her. Maribeth had no experience picking locks, but she had her phone and the Internet. Grateful that she’d chosen a messy bun to pair with her comfy sweats that day, she plucked two pins from her head and rolled her eyes as her heavy black tresses tumbled down. It was worth sacrificing her hairstyle to get inside.

Sweaty minutes passed as she followed directions from an Internet video and kept wiggling the pins she’d bent into makeshift lock-picking tools. If someone was in there, they’d probably heard something by now, but no one yelled at her to go away. Maribeth was about to give up when she finally got the last binding pin set and the lock sprang open.

She wanted to cheer but settled for a smile as she lifted the padlock as quietly as she could. The hinges of the door were silent as she slid it open. What she saw in the room forever changed her life.

“Eric?” Maribeth asked, tossing lock and pins onto the floor as she rushed toward her cousin. His blue eyes were wild, and he was shackled to a chair. “What the fuck?”

“Mari. Mari, you should go. Go and get some help. Hurry.”

“No. No, I have to get you undone. I have my phone. We’ll call whoever we need to. Everyone we need to, but we have to get you out of this fucking chair.”

“He’s going to kill me,” Eric insisted, clenching his teeth as Maribeth lifted her shaky hands to the first manacle and cursed her own stupidity at throwing her newly made hairpin tools. “You aren’t safe. Get out of here. I can handle this. I was just about to throw a crystal when I heard you messing with the lock. I-I think I can open a portal too. Maybe the ghosts will help.”

Scrambling on the tiles to find her pins, which had slid under one of the twin beds, Maribeth didn’t consider running. Eric needed her.

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