Destined to Kill: A Destined Novel (Destined Novels Book 1) (35 page)

"Amanda! What did you do?" Sam runs towards me, dropping beside me.

"I'm sorry! I thought she would deflect it like she usually does! Oh, Ana!" She reverts back to the name she's more comfortable calling me.

"It's fine," I manage, and expel the breath I was holding in. "I'm fine. Just give me some room."

Sam backs away slightly - okay, he scoots like two inches from me. I take a hold of the hilt of Amanda's sword, and pull it out of my stomach. I really do try not to whine, not wanting Amanda to feel worse than she already does. I just don't succeed very well.

"I am
so
sorry!"

"Don't be." I hand Amanda her sword, stained in my blood. "You did very well."

"But, I stabbed you!"

"I know," I chuckle. "Believe me."

She looks down at her sword, my blood, and throws it to the ground as though there was a huge spider on it. "I can't believe I did that."

I lift my blood-soaked tank, showing her my belly. "Look. All better." I pat her on the shoulder. "I'm fine, Amanda. You should be proud of yourself. You got through to me."

"Well, you bloodied my nose," she says grumpily.

I laugh at her petulance. "Now, that
was
an accident. Sorry about that."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam inches back to me, cradling my face in his hands.

I smile at him. "Yes."

"Alright, let's get on with it before these two start making out in front of us," Jenna complains.

Just for that, I kiss Sam - a nice, juicy kiss - before getting up.

"Ugh. The dude stakes you and still gets to...stake you."

"Don't be crude, Jenna," Emily scolds, and rolls her eyes at Jenna sticking her tongue out.

And, we're back to being high-schoolers.

"Next wave," I bark, ordering the next group to come at me.

"You don't want to rest?"

"No, Zac. Let's go."

I end up with a few more cuts as training goes on, which I consider progress. My Hunters are exceptional. If they can get to me, I have no doubt that with a bit more training, they can defeat Thomas's army.

Exhausted, I step in the shower to wash the dried blood off of me. There's not a scratch on me. If it weren't for the actual blood itself, there would be no indication I had been hurt at all. I dollop body wash on my sponge, and smile when I smell him.

"Can I help?"

"Be my guest."

"You took a lot of hits tonight."

"Yes," I smile broadly. "You all did very well."

"You're probably the only person I know who would be happy to be cut so many times."

He shakes his head, gently washing the blood off of me.

"I don't feel it, you know. It's like it never happened. You don't have to be so timid."

Sam touches by abdomen where Amanda's sword went through me. "It really is amazing."

"Thanks, I work out." I wink at him, and he laughs.

"I meant how you heal. That's not to say your abs aren't amazing." He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, gazing at me. "You lost a lot of blood."

"I have more." Uncomfortable with the conversation, I try distracting Sam with a kiss.

"
So do I
," he whispers.

"Sam, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because it would be very easy for me to get hooked on you," I confess.

"What's wrong with that?"

Everything.

"Anala, I told you before, I trust you. I know you know when to stop."

"It's not that, Sam. I - I don't want to need you."

He backs me up against the shower wall, the coolness of it - and the closeness of him - sends chills throughout my body.

"Maybe
I
want you to need me." He kisses me until I'm lost in him. When he feels the fight leave me, he tilts his head, exposing his neck to me.

Without another word, I sink my teeth into him once again.

We spent the entire week training harder and longer. They are ready. Hell, if I'm being honest with myself, they were ready days ago. I'm stalling the inevitable. I've found myself, on more than one occasion, scoping out Thomas's hideout. I say it's to make sure they are still there, and haven't gone into the wind. But, I know I want to see Thomas. I want to reaffirm that he has changed. I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that this sweet boy has become a…monster. Every night, though, I'm reminded by the bodies they bring in to feed on or offer to Thomas, and I watch as he tears them apart. As much as it hurts, it also helps me come to terms with what I must do.

Now, as I sit alone in my training room, I must try and forgive myself for not helping those innocents. All for the greater good, I try telling myself. But, it does nothing to ease the guilt. That, coupled with what I have to do with to Thomas and what should be done to me, I'd say I'm pretty stressed.

"Anala?"

I hadn't realized I was sitting on the floor, my back against a weapons crate, with my hands in my head until Amanda sits next to me.

"Hey." I smile at her and push myself up onto the crate, helping her up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I know she's not alone. All of my Hunters are here, seeing me this way. Do I pretend to be strong, or let them know what I'm really feeling?

"I think you're ready," I answer. "It's time to end this." In more ways than one.

"Are you ready for that?" Eric drags another crate over and offers a seat to his sister and Jenna.

"Honestly? No." Truth it is. "I have all the confidence in the world for all of you. It's me that I am uncertain about."

"You're the strongest of us all," Emily suggests. "Why would you doubt yourself?"

"Because I don't want to kill Thomas."

"Then don't, Anala." Amanda's voice holds such benevolence I feel tears threaten. "You've lived this long being who you are. Can't you teach Thomas to do the same?"

"I can't. Amanda, despite
what
I am, it's who I am that prevents me from doing that. I was born a Hunter. I know it sounds hypocritical of me to say, but, I can't let him live."

"Let someone else do it," Sam says quietly. So many emotions play on his face. Pity, sadness. . .jealousy. How odd for him to be jealous of a boy I have to kill.

"I have to do it."

"Why?"

"It's what Thomas would want. He would be appalled if he understood what he has become."

Sam approaches me, kneeling to look me in the eye.

"Do you love him?"

"Sam," I sigh. "I care for him. I loved him." Sam bowed his head, pain etched across his face.

"It's not the same," I tell him, touching his cheek. "But, I feel responsible for him. What happened to him is my fault. He allowed himself to be turned because of me. And, then there's the fact that he is your family. Yours and Amanda's. I have to do it," I repeat.

"You're sure this is the only way?" Emily asks.

"He's too far gone. He's killed too many, turned too many. I can't allow that to go unpunished." It's the truth, and I know I'll use the same argument about myself. "We will go out tomorrow night to finish this. And, I mean finish it, Sam. As a Hunter it is your duty to kill
all
Cursed Ones."

"Forget it." He pushes away from me, and begins pacing. I almost missed his pacing. I even missed his arrogant attitude. A little. "You're different."

"Am I? Do you really think in all my years I haven't killed an innocent?"

"Impossible. I know you. You wouldn't do that."

Here we go.

"The case you were working on when we first met? The gang that was murdered? That was me."

Sam inhales sharply, as do the rest of them. "You're lying. You're just trying to justify someone killing you. It's not going to work."

"I'm not lying." I frown. I'm not, right? "I don't remember it. I - I thought it was a dream. I had been feeling off, not myself. I honestly can't recall actually being there in that alley. I only remember waking up in bed and Zac was knocking at my door..." I trail off, trying to think what really happened.

"You hadn't been to school for two days," Zac confides. "When I came to check up on you, you didn't know what day it was."

"Why do you think it was you, then?" Sam asks.

"When your parents brought it up, and you gave more details...It wasn't a coincidence that my 'dream' matched your description, Sam."

Amanda takes my hand. "Why can't you remember? What happened?"

I have thought about it so many times, coming up with nothing. Until I remembered Amanda's theory.

"When you read the journals, you came up with the idea that the Cloaked One is the true Maker." I glance at Sam, his eyes widen with surprise. He has not disclosed who the Cloaked One truly is. "I think you're right, and that's why I started feeling the way I did."

"Is the Cloaked One
your
maker?" Jenna asks incredulously.

"Not exactly." I go over to the table where my cloak lays. If I'm going to be honest, I need to be honest about everything. I pick up the cloak, wrapping it around me in dramatic fashion. I raise the hood before turning to face them.

"You have got to be kidding," Jenna snorts.

Amanda comes to me, cocking her head to one side as she studies my cloaked figure in front of her. "You really did save my life."

I bring the hood down, returning her stare. "I thought you knew."

"I only suspected, but I didn't know for sure. So, Thomas..."

"Is of my blood," I finish.

"Wait, I don't understand," Zac interrupts. "Why would that affect you, and make you lose days? He's obviously been alive for as long as you."

"I can only guess it's proximity. Bernard brought them here, and that made me feel...unlike myself. Or, perhaps it was even Bernard himself. Whatever the reason, with Thomas being of my blood, all of the ones he's made are of my bloodline. It's why I feel pain when they are staked or killed."

"You feel them?" Sam breaks his silence, his pacing halts for a brief moment.

"Yes."

"Maybe they killed the gang, then, and you just, I don't know, felt it through them?" He sounds hopeful.

As much as I would love for that to be true, I don't think it is. Though, I don't think I will convince Sam of that now. "I've killed before, Sam."

"Doesn't matter," he says, waving his hand in the air, dismissing my confession. "That's in the past."

"I killed Bernard."

"You said you didn't see him."

"I lied. I saw him, and I knew exactly what I was doing when I ripped his throat out."

"Ana! Sam, there's an explanation, I'm sure!" Amanda pleads, but Sam doesn't say anything. He's not mad or surprised, or even daunted by my confession.

"Did you go there to kill him?" he asks evenly.

"No. I went there for information. He gave me more than I bargained for. He looked like he was high, or needing to get high, shaky and weird. Then, he just started telling me everything. How my father," I stumble on my words, wishing they weren't true. "My father created Cursed Ones, how he - Bernard - created his own. He told me how he had my parents murdered, then pulled a gun on me. He admitted everything to me, thinking I was like him. He had no idea I was immortal. He shot me in the head."

"Son of a..."

"I killed him," I interrupt Sam's tirade. "For my parents, for threatening your lives, for me. I'm not sorry. Especially after finding out about Thomas, I'm glad he's dead. I only regret drinking from him."

"Is that what made you sick that day?" Jeremy chimes in. For such a big dude, he sure can be quiet. I almost forgot he was there.

"I think so."

"Why? Was his blood like rancid or something?"

I silently chide myself for being impressed that Jeremy knows the word rancid.

"Apparently."

"Where's his body?" Sam asks, getting back on track.

"It disintegrated. I'm serious," I say when Sam gives me a look. "I started searching his apartment after I killed him, and heard a strange noise coming from him. By the time I got to him, his body was changing. Mummifying, then, poof, it was gone."

"That's awesome." Jenna sticks her tongue out, and blows a bubble when Sam glares at her.

"He tried killing you. Self-defense."