Destined to Reap (Reaping Fate Book 3) Page 10

  “Shouldn’t Elizabeth do that?”

  “Why?” Lacey asked. “You’re my maid of honor.”

  I choked, and I’d yet to put a crumb of food into my mouth. Since when was I bumped into the number one spot of Lacey’s entourage?

  “Why don’t I help Kiara plan the party for you?” Trashae asked.

  “Really?” Lacey looked as if she’d been handed a million dollars. In cash. “That would be awesome.”

  No, awesome would not be the word choice I’d choose for this nightmare. Talking with Miss-I-Just-Wreaked-Havoc-In-Your-Life would commence while en route back to Fated Match. There would be no avoidance of conversation this time around. Except…

  “Kiara,” Trashae said after I’d managed to untangle myself from my doting family’s goodbyes. “I have to run an errand, but don’t worry. You’re safe. I’ll see you soon.”

  Excuse me? Feet came to a full stop as my eyes watched Trashae’s retreating back. Andrew and I needed a talk. Like now. Whipping out my cell phone, it wasn’t Andrew’s number I entered, however.

  “Hello?”

  “Hadley,” I said. “Thank God. You won’t believe the crazy day I’ve had.”

  “Who is this?”

  The question gave me pause. “Kiara.”

  “Kiara Blake?” she asked. “Oh, hi. How are you?”

  “Stop joking around. This day has been bizarre, and you won’t believe what happened.”

  “Umm… I’m sorry? I’m not certain what you mean by joking around.”

  Gut informed me that something was off. Very, very off. “Have you thought of a plan yet?”

  “What are you talking about?” Hadley asked.

  “What we discussed yesterday morning.”

  “I didn’t speak to you yesterday. I’m sorry, Kiara, but I don’t understand what this is about.”

  That slight tension in Gut? It had just switched to full-blown dread. “I met up with you at the coffee shop before your class yesterday morning, remember?”

  “Kiara, I haven’t seen you since we bumped into each other at that Asian restaurant last month.”

  Cold dread was replaced by white-hot fury within my veins as I clicked off the call without bothering to say goodbye. I would hunt down Miss-I’ve-Wrecked-Your-Life and demand she fix the utter mess she’d created. If my sword had to be drawn, so be it. Nobody messed up my friendship with Hadley.

  Nobody.

  Chapter 8

  A phone call had been placed to Detective Andrew Ross. Then another. A text soon worked its way to his cell phone via cyberspace. Fifty more followed. None of them had earned a response.

  “I want to speak to Detective Ross,” I said into the phone. Screw his unanswered cell phone, I had finally called the police station, and it was Ms. Brunette seated at the front desk who was now on the other end of the phone line. Thankful was I for a human response to my frustrated request, but obviously I hadn’t yet shimmied my way onto her favors list because she wasn’t having any of it with my justified demands.

  “Detective Ross is out on a call at the moment,” Ms. Brunette—who I was considering renaming Ms. Cantankerous—said. “I’ll leave a message for him when he returns.”

  “Not good enough. This is an emergency. Can’t dispatch contact him or something?”

  “No.”

  Well then. “Fine, here’s the message. Tell Detective Ross that he’d better have nine lives because one of them will be gone after I next see him.”

  Clicking off the call, I marched to the nearest bus stop. Now would have been the perfect time to call up Hadley and vent about that rude man, as she referred to Detective Ross. There would be no more calling him Andrew. First name basis was reserved for friends, which he most definitely was not. Proof of that very fact was the woman he’d hired to protect me screwing up the twenty-year friendship I had with Hadley.

  Hand squeezed at my phone, briefly envisioning it to be the neck of Detective Ross. The young twenty-something seated on the bench and blasting music into his eardrums gave me a wary eye before stepping away to wait farther down the stop.

  Wise kid.

  The didn’t-pass-any-sort-of-fuel-emissions-inspection bus finally chugged to a screeching halt in front of me. Work wasn’t even on my radar. Maude was an adult. She could deal. Right now I had to figure out how to undo everything recently done. No witch was I, but perhaps there was some sort of online spell I could cast? Light a few candles. Draw a circle. It seemed easy in television shows, and if nicely paid actors could achieve a bit of magic, how hard could it be?

  Desperate was I.

  A text message from Wilcox chirped right as I stepped off the bus at my stop.

  Kiara, you can’t threaten a police officer. It’s taken seriously.

  Not a threat. A promise. It’s warranted.

  What happened?

  Anger at the situation was too strong, and I found myself unable to answer in writing. Yelling in a rage was my preferred method of communication at that moment. I shoved the phone into my purse with shaking hands and marched toward my apartment door.

  I felt the string across the lower part of my shin seconds before something cold and wet poured down from above, leaving me sputtering and drenched.

  “Die Satan!”

  Turning, I stared at Mrs. Tidwell through my dripping wet hair. “What the hell is this?”

  “Don’t curse in my presence, you depraved varmint.”

  Looking up, I spied an overturned bucket rigged above my entrance. “Mrs. Tidwell, why did you put a bucket of water above my door?”

  At least I hoped it was only water.

  “Why won’t you melt?” The death-wished woman took a step outside her apartment door. “You should have melted, you evil spawn of the devil.”

  Which was I? Satan or his child? The crazy old biddy couldn’t keep her accusations straight. Brushing wet strands of hair out of my face, I focused on practicing patience on a day that was trying its damnedest to vex me. “That’s Wizard of Oz, and I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “You lie, demon!”

  Mrs. Tidwell pointed an accusing finger at me and said something else, but I failed to listen. Clutched tightly in her other hand was a charred sulfur-smelling envelope. I knew exactly what the crazy-woman had. The information for my next mark.

  “Mrs. Tidwell,” I said in a quiet, steady voice. “Hand me the letter.”

  “No.” She grasped the envelope tighter. “This is your next victim, isn’t it? You’re going to string him up by his toes and cut him open in some type of satanic ritual. I will not let you get away with this. I’m calling the police.”

  My neighbor disappeared behind the slam of her apartment door before I could get my hands on her. Which was no doubt a good thing—for her. Pounding against the solid wood did nothing except give me a sore hand. “That’s theft, Mrs. Tidwell. The letter is mine, and you are a thief.”

  Breaking down the door and forcing myself inside was always an option, but I entered my own unit instead. Time for some cooling off because the water that had been dumped on me had turned into steam. I’d finished changing out of the wet clothing when my cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Kiara,” Wilcox said. “Why is your neighbor calling the police station and claiming you’re the devil who’s plotting her murder?”

  “She swiped my correspondence from Hell and is holding the information on my mark hostage. I need that photograph.”

  “You’re the talk of the precinct today. First with the death threat against Andrew, and now this.”

  “My lucky day.”

  “What’s going on?” Wilcox asked. “Where’s Trashae?”

  “After completely screwing with my life, she pulled a disappearing act,” I said. “You need to better vet those placed in your trust, Detective.”

  Wilcox sighed. “Whatever she did, you can trust her. I promise. Andrew and I will be at your place in an hour. We have to finish up some reports first.”

/>   “You will be welcome. Detective Ross can sit on the doormat.”

  “Noted.”

  “Oh, and Ty?” I said. “Bring your gun. I’m in need of it.”

  “The only reason I’m giving you a pass on that comment is because you called me Ty.”

  The phone went silent as he disconnected. At least, I rationalized, he didn’t say he wouldn’t bring his gun.

  The fifth YouTube video on picking locks had concluded by the time a knock sounded at my front door. Breaking down my neighbor’s own door with my strength might raise a few eyebrows down at the station after Mrs. Tidwell filed a police report. Not that I was a hundred percent certain I cared about the water cooler gossip, but it might cause Wilcox and Ross a few awkward moments thanks to their association with me—well, Wilcox, at least. Screw Andrew.

  I opened the door to face the man in question. The good cop I was speaking to, that was. The Mr. Evil, wearing his oh-so-innocent disguise which my laser beam eyes were busy shooting at with torturous pain, stood slightly behind Wilcox. Mr. Evil was smart enough to keep a sword’s distance away.

  “Do you have my letter?” I asked.

  “I’ll get that,” Andrew said.

  I continued my hard glare until he’d moved in the direction required to rescue my Hell-sent correspondence, and then I allowed Wilcox inside my apartment.

  “Kiara, what’s going on?” Wilcox asked. He eyed my wet head. “Did you take a shower?”

  “Nope, I got drenched by a bucket of water thanks to the crazy woman next door believing I’m Satan or Satan’s child,” I said. “She kept getting confused as to which one.”

  “Have you heard from Trashae?”

  “Again, nope. After the stunt she pulled, I doubt I ever will.”

  “What happened that has you so upset?” Wilcox asked.

  I took a seat on my couch. The urge to curl into the fetal position, close my eyes, and have my world righten once again as soon as my eyelids reopened was strong. “What makes her so special?”

  Wilcox sat down beside me, a hand running through his dark brown hair.

  Uh-oh. That was his shit’s getting complicated gesture.

  “Andrew’s the better person to explain,” Wilcox said.

  “Why?”

  “This type of magic is his expertise.”

  “What’s yours?” I asked.

  He slid me a side look. “After my dad… well, after he died I tried to avoid anything supernatural. Lot of good that’s done me. But before his death, he taught me some Celtic mythology. My heritage.”

  “That’s how you knew about the Fáithsine.”

  Wilcox nodded.

  I bit my lip, wondering how far I could push my invasive questions on such a sensitive subject. A few facts I already knew, thanks to Andrew, but I had no idea if Wilcox was aware of my knowledge. “Why did your father know so much about the prophecy?”

  “It was his job to protect her.” He stared me straight in the eye. “Protect you.”

  I gulped. “And now?”

  “And now… it’s my chosen duty.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says Badb, sister to the Morrigan.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Celtic goddesses,” Wilcox said. “Known as war goddesses, actually. They, along with their sister Macha. Badb was feared in battle, and she often foreshadowed death. Why she’s involved in this prophecy, I don’t know. Unless it’s the death of demons she wants.”

  “All right then…” I stood and paced. “Riddle me this. If I’m some sort of all-powerful chosen one destined to take out Hell, why do I need a protector?”

  Wilcox shrugged. “If my father was still alive, or had at least lived longer, I might understand more. I was too young when he passed to have been told everything.” He briefly shut his eyes, his mouth tightening into a grimace at his thoughts. “What I know is that each generation of my ancestors searched to find if the Fáithsine had yet been born, waiting to fulfill their own destiny. The day my father was killed, a marking formed on my body, passing the calling on to me.”

  His shoulder. Lifting my blouse, I tugged the waist of my skirt down enough to reveal the same mark on my right hip and asked, “What does this mean?”

  “We’re bonded.”

  My eyes shot wide. “Your father…”

  Wilcox responded with a boyish grin. “Not like that. But if Da were still alive, it would be his duty, not mine, to protect you so you could fulfill the prophecy.”

  “So all of these kisses…”

  Reaching out an arm, he snagged me around the waist and pulled me down into his lap. “They are because I like kissing you. You are the most hardheaded and disagreeable woman—”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “But you’re also loyal, kindhearted, and drive me absolutely nuts.”

  “In a good way?”

  “In a good way.” He leaned forward. Right as our lips touched—

  “Should I come back?”

  I turned to spy Andrew standing on my threshold. It took a second to recall who he was. It took another second to remember that I was pissed off at him.

  “Took you long enough,” Wilcox said.

  I resettled myself on the couch, away from the lap I felt the urge to climb back on. Just another strike against Andrew and his damn interruption.

  “Mrs. Tidwell had to call the police station,” Andrew said, stepping into the room. He handed me the envelope. “Apparently she’d watched some news show about forging documents and refused to believe my badge was real.”

  “Would you like to explain Trashae’s abilities?” Wilcox asked. He then glanced at me. “And would you please explain what has you so upset?”

  “Hadley,” I said. “She’s no longer my best friend… and my brother’s fiancé, the woman who’s been my nemesis since high school, suddenly is.”

  “Trashae has the ability to warp reality,” Andrew said. “She can create a false narrative and inject it into our everyday lives as if it were real.”

  “Like how she suddenly became this famous wedding planner?” I asked. “But there were Internet articles and everything. How is that possible?”

  “We’re currently living in an alternate reality of her choosing.”

  My blood turned cold as I realized the magnitude of power the woman had. “She can make anything out of this world she wants, can’t she?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes, but you can trust her. She limits her power for the use of good.”

  “No, she does not,” I said. “Hadley. There’s nothing at all good about destroying my friendship with my best friend. And why do I realize the relationships are off, but Hadley and Lacey don’t?”

  “Because the power of this wish fulfillment lies with you,” said Trashae, stepping through the front door Andrew had left open. “To everyone else, this alternate reality is real.”

  “But…” I glanced at both Wilcox and Andrew before glaring back to Trashae. “They know who you really are.”

  “And that’s why we understand what’s going on,” Andrew said. “But as far as my memories are concerned, Trashae Johnson is a famous event planner. It’s only one in a long list of jobs and names she’s held since I met her.”

  “But Hadley…” I pointed a finger at Andrew. “You know who she is. The two of you have butted heads since the first meeting.”

  “Never met.”

  “The police station,” I said. “When she forced her way into the interrogation room.”

  “When we brought you in after finding you standing outside Logan Bradley’s apartment?” Wilcox asked. His head shook. “Never happened.”

  Speechless. That was me. Living in some sort of nightmare I would never awake from. My scowl turned in the direction of Trashae. “How do my friendships have anything to do with you being a wedding planner?”

  “Are you ready to understand balance?”

  And back to that… “Yes.”

  “This earth is made up of bo
th positive and negative energy. That fluctuating balance must always be maintained.” Trashae took a deep breath and cast a regretful smile at me. “Your protection is a selfish want, and when I altered the energy to comply with the want, it was a negative energy. To offset, the universe chose the most negative energy that had been directed at you and changed it into a positive. I do not always know the consequences in advance. In a perfect world, the negative energy sent your way from the coven would have redirected into a positive, and you’d no longer be in danger. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world.”

  Her words sank in as hard as a weight. “So Lacey… my family… held more negative energy against me than people trying to kill me?”

  Unwanted tears sprang into the corners of my eyes at the realization, and I desperately fought to hold them back. Wilcox’s arm slipped around me in support. Despite being the self-sufficient woman I’d always declared myself to be, I was really starting to appreciate his strength. Wilcox was the first person since my aunt that I felt had my back. And speaking of…

  “Aunt Kate,” I asked, “where is she?”

  “She’s fine,” Andrew said. “We had her house listed as infested and met her at the airport with alternate living arrangements. She’s declaring herself kidnapped.”

  “She is kidnapped. That’s the very definition of it. You took her against her will.”

  Andrew shrugged, not looking the least bit remorseful. Wilcox had once told me Andrew liked rules. I was beginning to understand the man was much like Hadley… only following the ones that suited him. But right then, I didn’t care. At that moment there was only one thing on my mind. I stared down everyone in the room and issued my most important demand.

  “I want to see my aunt.”

  Chapter 9

  “A leanbh.” Aunt Kate greeted me as I walked into the third-story bedroom where she resided. She was busy trying to pry open the window to toss down the bed sheets she’d knotted together as I’d entered. Her face tightened into displeasure. “They won’t let me leave.”