Destiny Gift (The Everlast Trilogy) - By Juliana Haygert Page 0,51

I could heal with my touch, how I could heal them … and so many other things that made my head throb.

I sent a text message to Raisa and Olivia from Victor’s phone, telling them that bats had entered our building, that they should stay with friends for a while and be careful upon returning there, and that I was going to spend a few days away with Victor. I could already see them imagining I was on a romantic getaway. If only.

After forty minutes of silent driving, he finally spoke. “Do you trust that guy?” He eyed Micah on his bike through the rearview mirror.

I sighed, staring out at the dark exterior. Besides the road and what the car’s headlights illuminated, not much else was discernible. It was like life was nonexistent. Here and there, we would pass another car or see some houses or RVs along the road. He sat in the driver’s seat next to me, but I’d never felt so alone.

“I don’t know who to trust. Can I trust you?”

“Good point,” he said. After a couple of minutes, he tried again, “How did you meet him?”

“Micah saved me from a bat attack two months ago. He appeared and the bats went away.”

“Just like that?”

I turned to him. “Just like that. Didn’t you see how the bats reacted around him back there?”

“I did. But I needed to make sure you saw it too.”

I chuckled, a hollow, sad sound. “I know the feeling, but I don’t know what is happening or why. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. I should face this and do what I should have done a long time ago.” Tears burned my eyes. “See a psychiatrist and ask for help. I don’t know what is real or what isn’t anymore.”

“Oh, this is real, trust me.” He glanced at me; one side of his mouth curled up.

How familiar that half-smile was. I whispered, “You sound like the Victor in my visions. How do I know I’m not hallucinating right now?”

He didn’t answer me. After a while he asked, “How is the Victor in your visions?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Well.” I shifted my weight, turning to face him directly so I could analyze him. “He’s an exact copy of you, physically, I mean. Except the hair. His hair is a little shorter and it’s never messy. You dress more casually than he does too.”

He kept his eyes on the road and I kept my eyes on him. It was still hard to believe they weren’t one and the same. “He’s kind, funny, confident, elegant. He loves to dance, and we can talk for hours about anything.” Oh, I missed him. And that thought made me realize something. “When did you move to New York?”

“About seven weeks ago.”

Almost two months ago. That was when the first non-Victor vision occurred. “You know, since actually having met you, I haven’t had visions about him. Just about other unrelated events.”

“Like what?”

“Like the town in Switzerland that was burned to the ground in seconds. I saw it happening.”

“Did you see how it happened?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“What was it?”

I turned away. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

But I didn’t say anything because I was gawking at the gas station that was coming into sight ahead of us.

“Holy hell,” I whispered.

How bizarre. The gas station had colossal green neon signs with the name of the place, Al’s Corner, spread along the road, plus several tall posts with stadium-type lights around the perimeter. I bet the place didn’t cast a single shadow. The owner must be afraid of the dark.

“This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen,” Victor muttered, startling me. Once more, he seemed like my Victor by saying what I was thinking.

He brought the car to a stop in a large parking lot alongside a diner that was as bright as the rest of the gas station. Micah parked beside us a few seconds later, revving the engine of his bike before letting it die.

As he circled his car, Victor cursed and kicked the air. “Look at this.” He pointed to the largest and densest scratch on the side of his car, right under a cracked window. He turned to Micah, who stood leaning against his bike with a sly grin. “This is your fault. You’re going to pay for this.”

“It’s not my fault the bats want your blood,” Micah said, shrugging.

“And why do they want his blood?” I asked. I crossed my arms and quickly scanned the place. It was