Carpathian 13 - Dark Destiny

posture completely confident.
    There were only a few people on the street so late at night. She scanned as she walked, checking the various apartments for the location of the child. Most of the buildings were dark and quiet. She could hear televisions blaring in a few apartments and music playing in others. The child was broadcasting sharp waves of grief. Unerringly Destiny turned down another side street where the apartment buildings gave way to small houses set close together. Rickety fences set a few of the properties apart, but duplexes and smaller single dwellings were built tightly against one another. Paint was chipped and peeling from the thin siding. Doors sagged, and gates were cracked and falling off their hinges.
    Destiny vaulted a low fence easily and made her way around to the back of one house. Cardboard boxes and bundled newspapers were piled high, mountains of them, taking up most of the space in the tiny back yard. She should walk away, leave the city and get as far away from Nicolae as she could. But her mind was already tuning itself to his. Needing to be immersed in his.
    Was it really the ritual words that had bound them together, or had her need of him started long ago?
    She had reached for him at every rising. His calm, his presence in the world had been her sanity. For years she had used him, forced him to share her pain, her damaged soul. She had sentenced him to a life Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    in the shadows, forever seeking her. She had punished him with her silence, all the while sharing with him every aspect of the vampire's torture and abuse.
    I was already of the shadows, Destiny. You pulled me into the light.
    His voice. His beautiful voice could take her into dreamland. Could weave fairy tales and bring hope.
    Could absolve her of all guilt. Her lashes drifted down as she paused beside the rotting back stairs.
    There was always so much guilt. Would it never go away and leave her in peace?
    The sound of the hopeless weeping dragged her out of her own despair. A child should never experience such heartbreaking emotion. Destiny could feel the vibrations of violence, the aftermath that lingered in the air. And she smelled blood. She hunkered down to peer beneath the wobbly stairs. The boy couldn't be more than nine or ten years old. He was so thin, his clothes were far too wide, although his bony wrists and ankles were showing. He wore no socks and had holes in his shoes. Tears made muddy tracks in the dirt on his face. He rubbed his face continually with his knuckles, but he couldn't stop the sobs that shook his young body. There were smears of fresh blood on his clothing, but she could see no open wounds.
    "Hi there," she said, using her gentlest voice, afraid of startling him. She had learned those soft, silvery tones from Nicolae. It always came back to Nicolae. "Is there room under there for me?" There was compulsion in her voice, a small "push" to make it easier for the boy to accept her presence.
    He looked frightened, his eyes widening with shock, but he obligingly moved over to allow her enough space to squeeze beneath the stairs. Destiny sat tailor fashion, her body heat helping to warm the child.
    "Bad night?"
    The boy nodded mutely. Destiny could see the scars on the backs of his hands and arms. Defensive scars. She recognized them for what they were. "My name is Destiny. What's yours?" She held out her arms, palms down so that he could see the slash marks on her arms. The same defensive wounds. "We match."
    He bent close in the darkness to examine her scars. "You have more."
    "But they've faded," she pointed out judiciously. "And they don't hurt anymore. At least not on the outside. What about yours?"
    "Mine don't hurt either." His gaze locked with hers. "Well, maybe a little on the outside. I'm Sam."
    "A lot on the inside, right, Sam?" She brushed the pad of her thumb over the worst of the scars, leaving behind a soothing balm. "Tell me. This didn't happen tonight. Tell me what's wrong."
    He shook his head, the code of the streets keeping him silent for a moment, but it was impossible to resist the lure of her voice. His lower lip trembled, but he squared his thin shoulders. "I didn't wash the dishes. I knew he'd be mad at her if I didn't wash the dishes, but Tommy wanted me to play basketball.
    All the kids were playing, and I thought I'd only play for a couple of minutes." His lashes were wet and spiky from his tears,