Page 93 of Touched By Destiny

“My father did this, didn’t he?” Maribeth asked. The genuine horror of the situation was far too much for her beleaguered heart and mind to grasp. “Why would he hurt you?”

“Destiny-touched.”

“Fuck,” Maribeth growled, her fingers closing around one of the lost hairpins. “Marwoods protect the destiny-touched.”

“Call someone if you insist on staying. Gabriel. Police. Someone. Hurry.”

Maribeth’s fingers grazed the second hairpin as the partially opened door slammed against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” her father roared.

Maribeth’s head hit the bedframe, and she cursed as she slid out from under the bed.

“What are you doing?” she screamed at him. “This isEric. Your nephew. Why the fuck is he shackled to a fucking chair?”

Her father lifted a hand, and Maribeth swallowed as she caught sight of the gun in his grasp.

“He killed your mother. Nariko died so he could have gifts. He doesn’t deserve them. The destiny-touched are a plague. A blight upon the lives of necromancers. I’ll end it. I’ll make sure no one else dies so someone likeEriccan talk to some fucking ghosts.”

There was madness in her father’s eyes—a zealotry she couldn’t understand.

“No, that’s not true,” Maribeth argued. “Their gifts help. We need to protect them. No one…no one dies for the destiny-touched. My mother didn’t die for Eric. Cancer killed her.”

“A cancer seeded by Clark and Rosalind’s desperate desire to have a destiny-touched child.”

Maribeth edged closer to Eric to shield him as much as she could from the cruelty in her father’s gaze.

“That’s not how it works,” Maribeth said, lowering her voice to calm her father. She feared the gun in his hand, and he hadn’t lowered it. Necromancers had eternal lifespans but were just as vulnerable to weapons as any human. “Mom loved Clark and Rosalind. Family was everything to her. W-w-what would she think of you hurting Eric?”

“I already told you she’d be here if it wasn’t for him,” her father snarled. “I had a plan, and you’ve ruined it. We’ll have to skip the stage show of talking to ghosts. Move the fuck out of the way, Maribeth. I’m going to put a bullet right in his heart. The woman who ownsmyheart was sacrificed for his life. It seems only fitting that he should die that way.”

“Dad.Please, Dad. Let’s put the gun down and talk, okay? We can talk about Mom. We can get Eric out of this chair. Maybe…maybe he could open a portal. Eric, y-you’d try, right? You’d try to talk to Mom.”

“This isn’t a fucking negotiation. If you don’t move, I’ll shoot through you to kill him.”

All her life, Maribeth had been taught to protect Eric. And despite her terror, she wouldn’t move. This was her father, and she was all he had left of her mother. Maribeth refused to believe he’d shoot her. But she was scared. Scared of dying. Scared of him. Scared of what he’d do to Eric.

“I’m not moving,” Maribeth stated softly, bracing her feet and wondering how in the world she’d convince her father to put the gun down.

“Have it your way,” her father snarled.

The loud sound of the gun firing ricocheted through the room, and Maribeth was frozen. Time moved in slow motion. She reeled back with the force of the blow. Someone screamed. Was it her? Where was the pain? She’d been shot. She knew that.Tumbling onto Eric’s lap, a burning fire leapt to life beneath her right collarbone. The breath shuddered in her lungs. But she was alive. For now.

It hurt to breathe. Maribeth wanted to stay brave. But she squeezed her eyes shut. And waited. No second shot hit her. At first, she thought the sirens were in her head. The ringing from the shock. But they were real.

“Fuck,” her father screeched, waving the gun wildly around. He took a second shot at Eric, but it landed in the wall behind them. “Cops. What the fuck? This wasn’t supposed to end this way. How did they know? Dammit, Maribeth. You made me shoot you. And fucking Eric. You’re still alive.”

“Mari,” Eric wailed. “Mari, are you okay?”

She couldn’t find her voice. Could barely think. But she had to reassure Eric.

“Okay,” she mumbled. Her legs trembled, and the pain was absurdly intense, but she locked her knees. If she fell to the floor, she couldn’t protect Eric. “I-I-I’m okay.”

Across the room, her father was screaming curses and pacing as he continued to whip the gun around in his hand. The lights from the squad cars outside painted the walls in blue-and-red light.

“They can’t know,” her father shouted. “They can’t know what we are.”

Ignoring him, Maribeth turned to face her cousin. His gaze was tortured so Maribeth forced herself to offer him a smile. Her lips curved, but barely.

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