Destiny's Revenge (Destiny Series - Book 2) Straight, Nancy (book club reads .TXT) 📖

it easier to blend in, somewhere we could be faceless strangers. I was on the interstate headed to Columbia. There were hundreds of hotels in the city and probably at least that many all night drug stores. Finding a hotel where we wouldn’t be noticed shouldn’t be too hard, at least until I could come up with a better plan.

In the back of my mind, I could vaguely hear Rewsna talking to me, but her words were jumbled. I had to concentrate on the road and couldn’t lose focus to try to figure out what she was saying. As I looked at Max, I realized that truly I didn’t care what she had to say. These last couple days, my sole purpose in life had been to destroy Samael, to make sure he could never hurt another. That mission almost cost me Max, and there was no way I would ever make that same mistake again. In this moment I couldn’t care less if Samael attacked another person, my family, or for that matter a hundred people. There was really only one person in this world whose absence would make the world stop turning for me, and he was right here with me now.

I would miss my family and my friends, but I could not imagine ever going back. The protectiveness I felt for Max now must be close to how he felt for me after the bear attack. Nearly losing him had significantly realigned my priorities. Knowing my mistakes, owning them, should be enough to keep me from repeating them. I just needed to get him somewhere safe, take care of whatever injuries he had, and make him whole again.

Rewsna’s voice was still echoing somewhere in the back of my mind. I did nothing to hear it more clearly because whatever she needed to say was now irrelevant to me. I reached over and turned up the radio to drown out her nagging jumble of words.

Chapter 26

I found a budget motel along the interstate. It must have been fate, because right next door was a drug store proudly flashing a sign that it was open twenty-four hours. I left Max in the van while I went into the lobby and got a room. The man behind the counter paid as much attention to me as he would have a bar of soap.

His hygiene was horrible - even from five feet away. He was one of those people who didn’t have to invest much money in toothpaste anymore either. I paid cash and decided to check out the room before trying to move Max. It was a one-floor motel, and our room was the one farthest away from the office.

For this being such an old dive, the room was reasonably clean. As I walked in, I could smell the room’s age with stale cigarette smoke in carpets and drapes that were easily two decades old. No one would ever think to look for us here. The regular clientele didn’t appear to be interested in seeing anything that wasn’t their business.

I made my way back to the van. Max was still out of it. I moved the van further down into the dark parking lot and backed it into the space closest to our room’s door. This would prevent anyone from easily seeing the license plate number if they were just spinning through the parking lot, and it would make for a quick getaway, if necessary. When I turned the key off, Max stirred, but made no effort to speak.

I reached my hand over to his and took it in mine. Max’s eyes remained closed but I saw a smirk appear, so I knew he could hear me. “We made it. I need to get you inside. I’ll run over to the pharmacy and get some things to clean your wounds. I don’t think I can carry you. Can you walk?”

His eyes remained closed, but I could see a slight motion forward when he gave me a partial nod. I got out of the van and walked around to his side, slowly opening the door so he wouldn’t tumble out onto the pavement. He eased himself out and put some of his weight on me. I was pleased that he was able to walk under his own steam for the most part, but as soon as we were inside, he made his way to the bed and collapsed.

I knelt beside him and spoke quietly in his ear, “I’m going to the store across the street to get some things to take care of you. I’ll be right back. Don’t open the door for anyone.” He made no movement, but I knew he understood.

The cashier inside the drug store was watching the evening news, and I tried to listen to the broadcast while I walked up and down the aisles, filling my basket with the supplies I needed. There was no mention of a massive massacre in Charleston. If all those texts had been legitimate, that’s all that would have been on the news, even as far away as Columbia. I told myself it had to have been some sort of a ruse. I would watch a later telecast when I got back to the room to make sure I was right. As I turned this evening over in my mind, I knew there was not enough time for the Beast to have found everyone’s families and systematically killed them. The more I thought about it, it didn’t make sense to kill any of those people.

The text messages had to have been sent to drive a wedge between my family, friends and me. If it were true, after the initial shock, it would have rallied us together and united us in a single cause. Killing so many families not only would have been reckless of the Beast, but would have been his demise.

It felt like Déjà Vu, the same situation I had been in weeks before: