Destined to Kill: A Destined Novel (Destined Novels Book 1) (2 page)

"
Your father is not going to like this," Thomas whispers to me.

Thomas Lagan had arrived in our village with his family three years ago. They were Hunters called here to help with the surge of Cursed Ones that were coming our way. He was cute enough with his sun-kissed hair, just a tad lighter than the wheat that grew here in our fields, and his beautiful golden eyes. He was built as a Hunter should be. Strong and tall, but also graced with such agility. We hit it off pretty quickly when he got here - despite my trouble understanding his Irish brogue. I attribute it to the fact that he was the only other Hunter around my age that had any measurable amount of skill. I refuse to believe it is because I think he is cute. The world could come to an end at any moment, I could not think of things like that! I promised father no distractions and I meant it (damn).

"Well, it is a good thing I am eighteen now is it not?" I say defiantly. I tie my hair back with a leather tie and can't help but think of how opposite Thomas and I were. Where his hair was light, mine was dark, almost black. My eyes were lighter and clearer than his. And, even though I, too, have the slim, athletic build of a Hunter, my body has the soft curves a woman should have.

"Eighteen or not, your father is the leader of the Hunters. You could be kicked out for this," he reminds me.

I whirl on him. "I am better than half the men he has out there!" I whisper angrily, poking him in the chest with each word. "Hell, I am probably better than
anyone
he has out there! He should let me go hunting!"

Thomas grabs my hand and holds it.

"I agree," he says softly. "But, you are his daughter. Do you not think it is difficult for him to put you on the front lines?"

For a moment, I am confused and conflicted. Confused by the way Thomas stroked my hand gently with his thumb (and how that made me feel). Conflicted by guilt in thinking my father would worry about anything but my safety.

"Still," I say, by way of debate. I draw my hand back and turn away. I have no argument to make other than 'still' (as lame as that is).

"You know, one of the most important jobs for a Hunter is protection. Perhaps your father feels you can protect the village better than anyone else while they are away."

"I know exactly what the most important job for a Hunter is!" I scathe. I know he's trying to help, but it only serves to make me more angry. "My parents are the
leaders
of the Hunters! But, I can do more good
out there
than standing around here
waiting
!" I turn and squint at him suspiciously. "Why aren't
you
out there?"

Thomas blushes slightly. "It is not because I did not want to be. My parents asked me to look after my sister and protect her while they were gone." He shrugs a little before continuing. "I found out you were staying here, so I told them I would."

Again, I'm speechless. That is not an easy feat, but Thomas seems to be able to do it without much effort. All I can do is just stare at him. When he begins to lean in, I put my hand on his chest - his very muscular chest - and push him back.

"We are on patrol."

"One day, Anala, you will let me kiss you."

I possibly would have choked on those words had I not heard a sound in the bushes 100 yards ahead of us. Silently I motion for him to circle around until we could close in on whatever is out there.

I draw my sword and noiselessly start toward the rustling. Catching Thomas's eye, I count down with my fingers 3, 2, 1. We pounce at the same time, both ready to slice into our first Cursed One when the little girl shrieks and falls to the ground covering her head.

"Bloody hell, Emma! What in God's name are you doing out here!" Thomas sheaths his sword and yanks his sister up by the arm. "You know full well you are not supposed to be running around out here by yourself!"

I replace my own sword and put a hand on my heart to make sure it was still beating. I could have killed this little girl all because I broke my promise to my father and was distracted. Again!

"I apologize, Anala. You say you are sorry, too, Emma."

"Sorry," Emma cries, her accent even heavier brogue than her brother's.

"It is fine," I tell her. I wish she would not cry. I like the girl, I do not want to make her sad. "Perhaps you could take her back to your home, Thomas."

"I cannot leave you alone out here, Anala," he objects. "You should come with us."

"No. I want to stay here and keep watch. I will be fine. Just go." When he hesitates, I glare at him. "I know what I am doing, Thomas! I have been training since I was five and I am the best!"

"I do not doubt your abilities, Anala, I just think we should stay in groups."

"Well, Emma should not be out here," I reply haughtily. "Take her home. I am sure I can manage without you for ten minutes."

"Fine." Thomas took Emma's hand and pulled her along. "I will be right back," he called as starts running with Emma trying desperately to keep up.

"Whatever," I mutter to myself. I tire of people not taking me and my exceptional skills seriously. Yes, I am sure my parents worry about my safety, but they cannot keep me out of the way of danger forever. Eventually, I will have to go out there and fight with my fellow Hunters. Why can that not be now? I am old enough, skilled enough, hell I even want it enough. But, no, I am stuck here, 'patrolling' the outskirts of the village, looking for my own trouble. And, I am not even supposed to be doing this!

Distracted again, I did not sense the Cursed One until he was right upon me. I feel his arms tighten around me and I struggle, but he is so strong.

"A Hunter's daughter," he hisses in my ear. "You could be helpful to us."

"What are you talking about?" I struggle more, but his hold only tightens. I need to think, not just react. Papa has taught me this many times.
Think, Anala. Cursed Ones do not have our ability to rationalize the situation.

The Cursed One only growls in response to my question. I had no idea they could even speak, and this one knew who I was. It was information the other Hunters could use. If I make it out of this alive. I feel the Cursed One release me with one arm to push my hair - that had fallen out of the tie with my struggling - back from my neck. He's going to bite me. I had learned with the Hunter's training that that was how they killed their prey. Or turned them. I pray for death if I cannot find a way out of this mess I got myself into.

My mind races with what I could do, going through hundreds of hours of training in a mere fraction of a second. Then, as I feel his teeth begin to sink into my skin, I remember the small dagger I had hidden in my coat. I reach for it, surprising my attacker with the sudden movement. His teeth tore at my throat and I can feel the warmth of my blood as it ran down my neck. I spin, ducking as he swipes his long fingernails towards my face. When I come up, I bring the dagger up and plunge it into his heart. It won't kill him, but it will incapacitate him. His eyes, an eerie white with the only color seeming to be a thin red ring around the iris, widens with shock and fury. His teeth dripped with my blood as he tries to lunge at me before falling to the ground.

I frantically look for my sword while trying to stop the bleeding from my neck. When I find it, I take it in my shaking hands and walk back to the Cursed One. He doesn't move, but I can still see the way he looked when he had faced me. I raise my sword and, refusing to close my eyes, brought it down with a powerful blow. His head rolled away from him briefly before turning to dust.

I take the belt from around my tunic and wrap it around my neck in hopes it would help. I don't know if it's doing any good because my head is pounding and I'm feeling faint and nauseous.

"I just need to sit for a moment," I whisper to myself. I should be dead now, right? Or, maybe changed into a Cursed One? Should I not feel different? All I feel is...sick. Tired and sick, but not evil. That has to be a good sign, right?

I vomit violently, but it does not make me feel any better. Walk around. That is what I need to do. It has to be anxiety from my first kill that has me feeling this way. I smell something sweet and inviting, then, and it makes my mouth water. I do not know what it was, but it makes every nerve in my body feel alive.
Thomas
. I
did
know that smell! Thomas is coming back. He cannot see me like this! Making sure I have my sword with me, and there was no trace of the Cursed One around, I run.

"Anala! Wait!"

"I am sorry, Thomas, I have to go home!"

I do not give him the chance to say anything else, I just need to get away from him.

I slam the door behind me when I finally get home. For some reason it does not make me feel safe being there. The familiarity of my home, the smell of the fire in the hearth, even the smell of the stew mum has cooking, is all a little too overwhelming. Everything is intensified. The sun filtering into the windows is too bright. The fire, too hot. The smell of the stew, normally my favorite, makes my stomach hurt.

Gus, our housecat, pads up to me, but instead of rubbing himself on my leg as usual, he sits in front of me and stares. We look at each other as if it is the first time we have seen each other. I tilt my head, he tilts his. Then this strange feeling washes over me. My eyes start to burn and my teeth ache. Gus hisses lightly and ambles away. I shake my head wishing this sick feeling would just go away.

First things first. I need to clean this wound on my neck and assess the damage before my parents get home. I promptly go to the washbasin, untying my belt from my neck. I am almost afraid to look at my reflection in the mirror. Will there be a gaping hole, a bite taken out of my nape? Good news, if there is a wound, papa is a Chirurgeon, mum a Midwife. Bad news, if there is a wound and I am becoming a Cursed One, my parents are Hunters, bound by the rules of the Society. I think I will wait until I wash the wound before looking. I do not normally have a problem with blood, unless it is mine, of course.

Filling my hand with chilled water from the basin, I gingerly bring it to my neck and begin cleaning. Expecting to feel holes or scraps, or something at least, I am surprised to feel nothing. All I feel is the smoothness of my skin against my fingers. I look in the mirror and use my belt to wipe away the blood staining my skin. Nothing. There is nothing there. No bite, no holes. Did I imagine being bitten? If so, where did the blood come from? That certainly was not my imagination. The water in the basin is colored from it. Could it not have been my blood? Perhaps blood from an earlier prey of the Cursed One?

It does not matter. All that mattered was that I was not bitten! I still feel incredibly sick, but at least I am not Cursed.

I change the soiled water from the basin and go to lay down in my bed. I try sleeping, but it eludes me. I could blame the stomach ache, but honestly, my mind is still reeling from the events of the day.
Turn it off, Anala
, I think. My wandering mind is what got me in the mess to begin with. With considerable effort, I finally empty my mind and begin to drift into sleep.

"Anala! You were to take the stew off the fire..."

I vaguely register mum's angry voice. I try to move, to sit up, but my body is not responding. It feels as though I am in a pit of mud and I am trapped. My throat is dry and painful and the nausea is worse. I want to tell mum to not yell, but all that comes out is but a squeak of a sound.