The Haunting of Destiny Dove, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
World Castle Publishing, LLC
Pensacola, Florida
Copyright © Kelly Abell 2022
Paperback ISBN: 9781958336434
eBook ISBN: 9781958336441
First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, July 18, 2022
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com
Formerly Titled Haunted Destiny
Licensing Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover: Karen Fuller
Editor: Erik Johnston
Prologue
Frosthaven, Connecticut 1815
Enya awoke gasping and coughing. The moonlight streaming through the window created an eerie haze in the cloud of thick smoke in her room. Confused, she slipped from her bed and yelped when the hot floor burned her bare feet. She squinted, trying to see through the smoke, but tears blurred her vision.
“Enya! Open the door,” her father yelled.
Oh dear Lord, what has he done? “I can’t get to the door, Father. The floor is too hot.” She coughed again, choking on the thick smoke. She had to find a way out. “Where are Mother and Shane?”
Her father pounded on the door again. “Let me in, you wench. I can’t get to you through a locked door.”
Her father slammed his body into the door, and Enya jumped, but the latch held firm. Her thoughts rushed at her all at once, fear chilling her despite the heat. He had not said, “get you out.” He’d said, “get to you.” Her heart hammered. His folly with drink had caught up with him again. It didn’t matter that her father, the Honorable Judge Frost, was one of the most prominent men in town. When the drink took over, he became as mean and low as any of the criminals he’d put behind bars. She had to get to Shane and her mother.
Enya moved into action. Bracing for the burning pain, she dropped to the floor on her hands and knees and scrambled to the door. Her long, wool nightgown protected her knees from the hot, sticky varnish coating on the floorboards, but not her hands. Pieces of skin tore from her palms on her fast trek to the door. Without thinking, she reached up and grabbed the copper knob. Her flesh seared, and a scream ripped from her parched throat, drawing even more smoke into her lungs. Cradling her hand, she crumpled to the floor.
“I can’t open it,” she cried. “It’s too hot.”
A spasm of coughing shook her body. She couldn’t open the door from inside, and her father couldn’t break it in. Relief warred with terror. Was burning to death better than facing her drunken father? Sweat broke out on her forehead and trickled down her back. All she could hear was the roaring of her own blood rushing through her ears. If it weren’t for her mother and brother, Enya would jump out the window. A broken leg would be far better than being on fire and far better still than facing her father’s wrath. How many times had she borne the bruises from his unjustified abuse?
She had to find her brother and mother. How long could they last in this smoke and heat? As if summoned by her thoughts, an angry storm of the thick, black smoke rolled under the door.
Time had run out.
“Get Shane and Mother,” she shouted above the roar of the flames. “I’ll try to get out the window and jump down.”
“I’ve already taken care of them. Open the damn door. The smoke is choking me to death.”
His angry voice struck fresh terror in Enya’s heart. What did he mean, taken care of them?
She glanced around, hunting for another way out. Smoke swirled about the room, thinning just long enough for her to see the little angels carved in the French Rococo mirror on her dresser.
“Oh little angels, spare our souls,” she offered up in prayer.
Wrapping her nightgown around her burned hand, she yanked back the bolt and turned the scorching knob.
The door burst inward along with an enormous back draft fed by the oxygen that remained in the room. Her father, engulfed in flames, stumbled across the threshold. She screamed at the sight of her father on fire and scrambled to pass him, but he grabbed the edge of her nightgown. She peered over her shoulder, gasping and frozen in place as shock rippled through her. Her father didn’t scream, even as flames ate away at his body. He yanked her close, singeing her hair with the blaze that licked his clothes.
She screamed again, fighting with all her strength. “Let me go!”
The hem of her gown caught fire, burning her legs. She kicked and scratched, but still, he held her.
“Finally, I have you, you Irish witch. You were always trouble. I should have drowned you the day you were born.” He leaned in, arms tightening around her, searing her skin. His raspy whisper chilled her blood. “Now you’re going to pay. With your mother and brother gone, you have no one left to save.”
Enya shrieked. She yanked to free herself from his death grip. The scorching pain seared through to her very soul. He only held her tighter to him and swiveled them both to face the mirror. A blast of hot air stirred the smoke enough for her to see their ghastly reflection.
“Look at yourself, Enya. Are you proud now? You’ve killed your mother and brother, and now you and I will spend eternity together in a fiery grave.”
The mirror revealed her smoky bedroom with her and her father being swallowed by the crimson and orange blaze.
“NO!” Enya jerked her head from the horrifying sight.
He yanked her hair, twisting her head until she faced the mirror. Despair overwhelmed her. All the years of fighting this horrible man to protect what she loved had ended. Her prayers to the angels would go unanswered tonight.
“You know, it’s ironic that you’d die from the very element you were named after. So watch, you witch,” he growled. “Watch while we burn.”
She did watch, and what she saw in that mirror was more terrifying than the flames scorching her skin. Her father changed. Boney protrusions pierced the skin on his forehead and the hands that held her formed into talons which pierced her arms, keeping her anchored against his morphing body. His face, oh dear sweet Lord, his face formed into a twisted combination of goat and bull with jagged teeth. The last thing she experienced in her short, innocent life was the sulfurous stench of his breath and his demonic laugh.
Chapter One
Arcadia, Florida
Present Day
Destiny Dove and her family left Naples for Orlando that night, the rain pelting the car with big, fat drops. They’d gotten a late start because her mother had a headache and her father had worked too late. Excitement about reaching Disney World consumed her. What a wonderful, magical place. She’d only been one other time, and now they had eighteen-month-old Elijah, probably too little to remember the trip, but he would have fun anyway. She tugged a mirror from her purse, snapped on the overhead light and checked her hair. Rain always frizzed the dark locks, but it appeared that maybe this time, the straightener’s work was holding. Her hair hung past her shoulders, held back from her face with one sparkling clip. She’d had trouble with her eyeliner that morning, but now it ringed her green eyes with slate gray precision. Digging out the lip-gloss, she swiped it across lips she thought were too thin. Her mom always told her she was pretty, but Destiny still didn’t quite see it. The make-up helped a lot, but at fifteen, what girl really thought she was all that pretty? She snapped the mirror closed and shut off the light.
Her mother started a round of “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer On the Wall,” and Destiny glanced at Elijah and laughed. He didn’t know the words, but he sang anyway in his sweet baby voice. Without warning, her mother’s song morphed into a scream. Cursing, Destiny’s father yanked the wheel as the car skidded sideways. He fought to wrestle the van under control. The back end slid, and he overcorrected.
Flipping, the van rolled over and over, rattling Destiny’s brain in her skull. She fought the battle with nausea and lost. When the van came to a stop on its roof, the abrupt silence startled her.
She hung upside down from her seat belt in the dark. Swiping a hand across her dirty mouth, she called, “Mom? Dad?” They didn’t answer.
Elijah screamed. Destiny blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She peered over at her brother and spied something wet covering his head. Oh God, he’s bleeding.
Disoriented, Destiny struggled to find the seat belt latch.
Elijah screamed, “De-ne-ne!”
She struggled harder with the belt buckle and eventually found the button. The strap flew back, dropping her onto the roof of the car. Ignoring the pain, she scrambled to her baby brother.
She yanked at the buckle. “It’s going to be okay, Baby Bro,” she soothed. “Sissy’s going to get you out. Just hang on.”
She tugged until pain radiated through her shoulder blades. Panic led to desperation as she couldn’t see through the dark smoke. She yanked harder as thick smoke filled the cabin. Elijah kept screaming, and finally, it occurred to Destiny to just release the entire seat. She wrapped both arms around the plastic safety seat, searching for the buckle that held it in place.
Then, a pair of large hands closed around her ankles and yanked her away from him. No! No! No! I almost have him. “Wait!” Destiny screamed. She fought back, kicking out, her foot connecting with what must have been a nose. “I can’t leave without my baby brother,” she yelled again.
The person continued to jerk at her legs, finally pulling Destiny through the window. “Let me get you out first, and then I’ll come back for him,” he replied, half-carrying, half-dragging her to a safe distance.
Outside the car, Destiny glared at the police officer.
Glancing down, Destiny observed her new white jacket covered with soot, dirt and oil. Her mother would be so mad. Thinking of her mother sent her into a panic. Her parents…where were they? Rain poured into her eyes as she searched frantically for her parents but didn’t see them anywhere.
The cop yanked her to her feet, and together they stumbled away from the car. Behind them, a boom resounded through the night. The blast propelled them both into the air, and they crashed to the ground about fifteen feet away. The van lit up in flames, and the acrid odor of burning oil and rubber filled her nostrils.
She ignored her bleeding limbs, scrambled to her feet and shouted, “Elijah!”
Oh God, he was still in there! She took off running back to the inferno that used to be her family’s car, but the cop was faster. He tackled her from behind. Again, the pain of bones meeting asphalt rattled through her. Crap!
“Elijah!”
“Stop,” the cop yelled. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s gone.”
Keeping a tight grip in Destiny’s shoulders, the policeman held her until the magnitude of his words sank in. This was his fault. She’d almost had Elijah free, and that creep had pulled her out of the car. Destiny turned and pounded away at the guy with her fists, not caring how hard she hit him or how much it hurt. He was going to pay.
He let her do it. He just let her beat on him until she ran out of strength. Energy spent, Destiny sobbed. Her throat, raw from the smoke she’d inhaled, couldn’t compare to the pain in her heart. The big sister was supposed to protect her baby brother at all costs. She had failed. Her parents were going to be furious. She’d had Elijah right there in her hands yet failed to save him.
Gently, the officer steered her over to a waiting ambulance. “Where are my parents?” she sobbed, sitting robotically on the tailgate.
“Let me go take a look,” he said. “My name is Paul, by the way. I’ll be right back.” He gestured to a nearby paramedic. “Let these men here check you over.”
Destiny waited at the back of the ambulance, watching the rain sizzle on the burning car that still held her brother inside. Oh, God. Grabbing her stomach, she threw up down the side of the ambulance.
A sound that reminded her of a basketball rolling across concrete reached her ears. She lifted her head, curious about the source. Her blood froze, and a scream clogged her throat as a bodiless head tumbled toward the vehicle, wobbling from ear to ear and coming to rest facing Destiny. Mom! The eyes were closed, the face covered in blood. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.
All of a sudden, the eyes popped open, eyebrows drawn together, skin flushed red.
“You didn’t get the baby! You didn’t save your brother! Why didn’t you get him out of the car? What kind of a sister are you? What kind of daughter are you?”
“I tried!” Destiny yelled back. “The seat belt was stuck, and that cop…he pulled me out before I could get to him.”
“That’s no excuse,” her mother’s head accused.
“I tried,” Destiny yelled, sobbing. “I tried….”
***
Destiny woke with a scream and kicked at the sheets like a wild animal fighting to free itself from a trap. Sitting up, she banged her elbow on something hard and pointed. Pain radiated down her arm, sending tingles through to her fingertips. She cradled her sore elbow and waited for the nightmare to fade. Where am I? The room didn’t feel familiar, and she blinked to help her eyes adjust to the darkness.
A beam of moonlight shone through the small window directly on her right and gave her just enough light to see the tiny room. Her bed was flush against the wall, and the nightstand was directly to her right in the cramped space. That explained the banged elbow. She recognized the quilt on the floor that in the light of day was a pale lavender and white, but now in the moonlight, reflected only shades of gray. She pulled it off the floor, straightened the tangled sheets and flopped back onto her pillow. Gradually her upper body relaxed as she took deep breaths and focused on a few water-stained ceiling tiles. She was safe and in her grandmother’s mobile home.
“Destiny?” Her grandmother, Rose, rushed into the tiny bedroom and plopped on the edge of the bed. She pulled the teenager’s trembling body into her arms. “You were screaming. Was it the nightmare again, honey?”
Destiny stiffened in the arms of the one woman she’d been taught her entire life to fear. She wanted comfort, but everything was still too fresh, still too terrifying. But this old woman was all Destiny had left for a family. Trust was a difficult thing to give, but she was going to have to try.
“I just keep seeing it over and over, Grams. It’s like a horror movie that just won’t end. I can’t get Elijah out of the burning car, and then Mom’s head just screams at me…it’s just horrible.”
Tears rolled down the old lady’s wrinkled cheeks. Destiny knew her grandmother felt grief and pain too, but at least she hadn’t been in the car when it happened. At least she wasn’t an orphan.
“Quiet now, Destiny. It was just a dream. Dreams can be so real, can’t they?” She lifted the sobbing teen’s face to her own. “There was nothing you could’ve done to save your mother, father, or Elijah. They barely got you out of the car before it caught fire. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am that they did!”
Destiny blinked her tears away and gazed up at her grandmother with wet emerald eyes. “I just can’t believe they’re gone. I miss them so much.”
Rose pressed Destiny’s head to her breast and held on tighter. “I know you do, sweetheart, so do I. We’ll just need to find a way to move through each day one step at a time. It’s not easy, but if you let me, I can help you through this. Do you think you can rest now?”
Destiny knew she’d never go back to sleep. She hadn’t slept a full night since the accident. When Rose picked her up at the hospital that dreadful night, Destiny hadn’t known the woman was her grandmother. When she found out, Destiny was more than wary. Rose and Destiny’s mother, Teresa, had parted ways many years ago over the way Rose chose to earn her living. Rose felt that Teresa denied her own destiny, and Teresa thought Rose was crazy. It created a chasm between them that not even the birth of grandchildren could bridge. The day after the accident was the first time Rose and Destiny had seen each other. All Destiny could remember was the portrait her mother painted of Rose, and it was nothing like a sweet little old lady sitting in her rocker with her knitting. It more closely resembled the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz.
Not wanting to worry her, Destiny nodded and pushed away from her grandmother’s arms. She lay back down on the small bed as Rose tucked the damp sheets and quilt tighter around her body.
Destiny caught the wistful look in her grandmother’s faded blue eyes. “You look so much like my Teresa, raven hair and eyes the color of the ocean. We may not’ve agreed on many things, but I’m glad she left such a wonderful piece of her behind. You get some rest now.” Smiling, she backed out of the room and softly closed the door behind her.
Destiny rolled onto her side and tucked her pillow under her head. Her elbow still ached from where she’d slammed it into the nightstand, not surprising since her room was the size of a closet. She couldn’t think of it as her room yet. A far cry from what she was used to…the adjustment was just one more thing to cope with.
Here she was, stuck with the woman that her mother referred to as the old crone, the biddy, the bat, and many other unflattering witch names. Destiny never really understood the feud between her mother and grandmother, but it must have been serious for them to have stayed separated for over fifteen years.
