His voice whispered over her body, made every muscle clench with urgent need. A rush of liquid heat surged, spread, pooled low in anticipation. She didn’t know how he had managed to become so firmly entrenched in her heart so quickly. “I still think you’ve used some black-magic spell on me,” she said gruffly.
“Is it working?”
“Don’t sound so happy about it.” A fine drizzle had begun. Destiny lifted her face to the skies, allowing me vapor to bathe her face. “I love the rain. I love everything about it. The air always smells so fresh after it rains, and the sound is so soothing. I sometimes lie under the covers and just listen to the way rain sounds likes music.”
“Do you want to drop in at the rectory and see Sam?” Nicolae ventured. “Two hours from now I would not want you to suddenly worry about him.”
“You were reading my mind again.” She smiled up at him because she couldn’t help herself. Nicolae. Sharing her life. Giving her hope. Binding his life to her life, so that she would never be alone again. It was almost more than she could take in and accept. Happiness. She had never dared to believe it could be hers. Belief seemed to trickle into her mind and take hold a little bit at a time.
Still hand in hand, they launched skyward, shifting shape as they did so, two owls flying toward the windows of the rectory. They shifted a second time, became vapor streaming through the night to find the opening in the window, no more than a crack, but it allowed them entry. Twin ribbons of colored mist poured into the house, moved quickly through the darkened hallway to find the crack beneath the door.
Father Mulligan appeared to be dozing in a chair by the bed. Sam was asleep, tears still marking his pale face. Destiny’s heart went out to the little boy. She materialized beside him, her fingers stroking back the thatch of hair tumbling across his forehead. “Poor little boy,” she murmured softly.
Father Mulligan sat up with a start, clutched dramatically at his heart as he glared at them. “Do you go through walls? You nearly killed me coming in like that.”
Destiny looked instantly repentant. “I’m so sorry, Father. I thought you were really asleep. I should have been more careful.”
“His heart rate did not even rise,” Nicolae pointed out. “He should be an actor, not a priest.”
Father Mulligan grinned mischievously, looking for all the world like a small boy. “I did rather well in the school plays when I was a young lad, much to my father’s chagrin. He thought acting a perfect sin. I was expecting you two this evening.”
“We would have come earlier but we have been looking into the strange, unnatural behavior of your parishioners. Are you certain the wine you are serving is not a bad one?” Nicolae inquired with a straight face. “All of them do attend this church.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Destiny agreed, glaring accusingly at the priest.
“You two are treading quite close to blasphemy,” Father Mulligan warned, attempting to look severe. His eyes were twinkling merrily, ruining his credibility as an actor.
“Well, I suppose we can rule you and your wine out, but I do have a question,” Destiny said. “The night Martin took the poor box, do you recall if any glass was broken? Before he became violent.”
Father Mulligan frowned. “How strange you should ask that. I spoke with Tim and he told me that he had given Martin medicine, and the glass of water dropped onto the floor as Martin handed it back. Tim said Martin just stared at the slivers of glass, shoved Tim out of his way and left their apartment. Evidently, Martin came straight here to the church.”
“Has Martin ever used the little clinic, the one just down from Mary Ann’s office?”
“Yes. There’s a doctor who comes twice a month. He’s noted for being brilliant in pain management. Martin was in a terrible accident a couple of years ago, shattered all kinds of bones and twisted his back. He had been going to the doctor for help, and it seemed to be working. But Tim said they had some kind of falling-out and Martin decided not to go back. It was too bad, because his pain was under control.”