I had washed the dishes, the knife wouldn't have been on the sink. It would have been in the drawer. He wouldn't have picked it up. I should have just done the dishes instead of playing basketball."
"It wasn't your fault, Sam. He was ill, and he is responsible for hurting your mother, not you. Never you. We all put off chores. Everyone does. Procrastination does not cause one human being to murder another.
He did it, not you. Your mother would never want you to think that. Come with me. Let me take you to Father Mulligan. He'll make certain you're all right. The police will come and they'll take care of your mother."
"They'll lock me up. He said the police would lock me up 'cause I don't have anyone else."
"Father Mulligan won't let anything bad happen to you. And police don't lock up children who have lost their parents, Sam. They help them. They find them a home with people who care about them. Come with me now." She wanted to get him away from the house, away from the man who might return at any time. Sam didn't need to see more violence. He didn't need to feel responsible for things adults did to one another.
She drew the boy out from under the sagging stairway and urged him quickly away from the house. She felt the first stirrings of apprehension as they hurried along the narrow pathway by the side of the house. The boy stopped abruptly as they gained the front yard. She felt the tremor that ran through his thin body, and she turned her head to see the man half sitting against a column on the front porch.
Her fingers tightened on the boy's shoulder, and she raised a hand to her lips to indicate the need for silence. It wasn't difficult to take control of the child's mind, shielding him from further fear. The man was obviously in a stupor, his head lolling back, his mouth wide open, his arms and clothes splattered with blood.
A low hiss of anger escaped her as she silently watched the man twitch and jerk, his fingers clenching into tight fists, then opening again. She was so focused on the murderer, she failed to notice the mist streaming into the yard, or feel the surge of power as Nicolae shimmered into solid form.
"Take the child and leave this place, Destiny," Nicolae said grimly. His palm caressed the back of her head with the briefest of touches, but it provided a comfort she didn't expect.
Destiny pulled the child closer to her. "This should never have happened. A child should never have to live this way, Nicolae. He thinks he's to blame."
Her enormous eyes were begging him to do something. Held confidence that he would. His heart turned over. Nicolae wanted to drag her into his arms, to point out that when she was a child, she thought herself to blame for things she had no control over, but he knew she had to come to that knowledge on her own. The realization had to be more than intellectual, it had to be in her heart, her soul, right where the scars were.
"Take him away from here. Father Mulligan is expecting you, and the police are on their way. They will not find me in this place." His voice was very gentle.
Destiny met his gaze. Some of the tension eased out of her. "Thank you, Nicolae. I'm grateful that you're here." She reached out and touched his arm. A mere brush to answer his, but her heart was swelling with joy as she turned away. She couldn't help the way she felt every time she looked at him. There was pride and confidence and chemistry and a curious melting deep inside her. A part of her might always fight to avoid admitting how deeply he had entwined himself around her heart, but she could admit to herself he was a large part of what was good in her life.
Destiny lifted the boy into her arms. The child circled her neck trustingly, leaned into her for shelter. The childish gesture of trust disarmed her. She tightened her arms protectively and took to the skies. She wanted to give this boy something to counteract the terrible memory of his mother's death. Placing him in a dreamlike state, she flew through the sky, drifting through clouds and allowing the joy of flying to fill the boy's mind and heart. He would always carry the dream with