Carpathian 13 - Dark Destiny

you if I touched you. I'm not good at this sort of thing, but I think you should be lying down." If you laugh, Nicolae, I will murder you right here in this church .
    His laughter came anyway, a low whisper of a caress; obviously, he was not in the least intimidated by her threat. It was a stolen moment of camaraderie and both recognized it as such.
    "If you don't mind, I'd rather not move," Father Mulligan said. "My head is throbbing and I'm afraid I might be sick."
    Nicolae! I think he has a concussion! There was fear in her voice.
    At once Nicolae was soothing, all laughter gone. Destiny could face a vampire without flinching, but this situation was beyond her experience. I am on my way and I will teach you what needs to be done.
    Keep him quiet . Nicolae couldn't help the small dart of pleasure shooting through him that she had reached for him in her need. Counted on him. Accepted that he would be there for her.
    "You need to stay quiet," Destiny said, hoping she sounded knowledgeable and confident. She stroked the priest's thinning hair and tried to ignore the way the scent of blood heightened her terrible hunger.
    "Do you know Martin Wright? A nice young man. Marty. I've known him since he was a child. He was always a sensitive child and so loving and kind to others."
    Destiny knew the man. He was Tim Salvadore's lover. Wright was always the quieter of the two.
    Destiny had observed him many times helping the older women in the neighborhood with heavy bags; he was the one who often slipped money to the young couple living in the small house next to Velda and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    Inez. "Yes, I know Martin," she admitted.
    "It was Marty." There was deep sorrow in the priest's voice. "I told him if he needed the money, I would give it to him, a personal loan, but nothing I said got through to him. It made no sense at all. The only thing that mattered to him was getting the box where I keep the money for the poor. There was hardly anything in it."
    "That's completely out of character," Destiny mused aloud. "And it doesn't make sense. Tim and Martin have plenty of money. They live carefully and they aren't spenders or gamblers. They don't use drugs, and Martin doesn't even drink. It's difficult to believe he would do such a thing."
    She knew that Martin Wright and Father Mulligan were fast friends. They played chess every Saturday, and Martin often worked with the priest in his garden. Whenever Father Mulligan sent out a call for volunteers, it was always Martin who headed the project. "It's completely out of character," she repeated, frowning. This situation was too close to the story Velda had told her of Helena and John Paul.
    "He has been coming late at night, working on plans for a gated community for the elderly. He's thought of everything seniors need—medical aid, access to a handyman, grocery shopping on limited means. But when he came tonight… well, it was Martin, but not Martin," Father Mulligan offered. "You see why I can't go to the police." He patted her hand with shaky fingers. "You find out what happened to him. I know you're the one to do it."
    "I'll look into it," she said before she could stop the words. Another promise. Another thread tying her to this place. To these people.
    "Thank you, Destiny. I knew this work was meant for you. After working so many years as a priest, I sense things about people." He patted her arm again. "I know you're very troubled."
    She drew back, her mouth suddenly dry. "Isn't everyone?"
    He smiled, his eyes closed, his head resting on her shoulder. "Tell me."
    She took a deep breath, let it out and plunged in. "I looked into someone's heart and thought him a monster because he killed without emotion. I could feel darkness in him, yet he felt nothing when he killed. He did so out of duty to protect others from a monstrous being. He says I am not the monster I think myself, that I kill to protect others as well, but there is hatred in me. I hate, and want to kill. I don't think he does. He kills because he considers it his duty." Destiny waited until the priest opened his eyes and focused on her. "I kill because I have to kill."
    Father Mulligan searched her face for a long time in silence. "Whom do you kill, Destiny?" He asked it softly, without fear.
    Her gaze shifted away from his for a long moment. He caught the shine of tears in her eyes. "There are things in this world you can't possibly know about,