She'd taken the pills, too. Chloe wasn't sure what she'd done with them, and she didn't ask.
She was just so tired. Empty and tired.
Chloe slept a lot. Miranda dragged her out of bed for class, made sure she ate, but other than that, she let Chloe sleep. It had been days—weeks maybe?—since she'd gotten a good night's sleep, but after the confrontation with Miranda, she finally gave in to her body's craving for rest.
By Saturday, she was feeling—well, not good exactly—but better. Human.
Alive.
Miranda had gently suggested that Chloe talk to someone—a counselor or therapist—but how exactly would she do that? How could she explain to some stranger about what Ethan had done? How could she talk about her visions without sounding like a complete lunatic?
Miranda didn't have an answer to that, so she'd let it drop. As long as Chloe ate regularly and stopped acting crazy.
Well, she hadn't said exactly that, but Chloe knew it's what she meant.
Chloe blinked slowly at the sunlight streaming in through the window. She checked the clock and saw that it was after ten in the morning. She'd been dozing a bit for the past hour, but could hear movement in the house and knew it was only a matter of time before Miranda came to check on her.
She was like a mother hen, that one. But Chloe honestly couldn't blame her.
She stretched and got out of bed. After a shower, she headed downstairs to find Miranda and Wren waiting for her at the kitchen table. They sipped coffee and a third cup sat untouched at an empty chair.
“Thanks, guys,” she said, reaching for the cup. “What's up?” She eyed Wren warily. Chloe knew that Miranda had told the others something about what she'd been up to. She just wasn't sure how much.
She wasn't sure she wanted to know, honestly. It was embarrassing. And part of her wanted to keep it quiet, private. But the other part didn't care.
That was the part that scared her. The part that thought it would be okay to take drugs she bought from some shady guy on the street.
The part that wasn't really her, at all.
“Here,” Miranda said, shoving a blueberry muffin toward her on a piece of paper towel. “Eat that, then we're getting out of this house.”
Chloe raised a curious eyebrow, but took a bite of the muffin. She swallowed. “And where are we going?”
“To the Spring Fair,” Wren replied with a bright smile—too bright. She knew everything.
Chloe groaned. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” Miranda said with a firm nod. “It'll be fun. We're all going. Well, except Maia since she's holed up in the library working on her final project.”
“The one about us?” Chloe asked.
Miranda shrugged. “Well the one about the Order, anyway. I don't think she's actually mentioning us.”
Chloe chomped on her muffin aggressively.
“Come on,” Wren urged. “It'll be fun.”
“You could use some fun,” Miranda added.
And that was the thing, wasn't it? How could she go out and have fun when Ethan was—wherever Ethan was?
“We've talked about this, Chlo,” Miranda said, reading her mind. “You need this. You need to be around people. Around us.”
People who love you. People who understand.
They didn't. Not really. But Chloe guessed it was the closest she was going to get.
She popped the rest of the muffin into her mouth and chased it with a swig of coffee, burning her tongue. She barely felt it.
“Okay,” she said. “Let's go.”
The Gatesburg Spring Fair happened over Memorial Day Weekend every year, and Chloe suspected it was pretty much like any fair in any small town, U.S.A. Set up in an empty field behind an old grocery store that had been closed for years, it consisted of a dozen or so rickety rides, a few rows of rip-off carnival games, and a building full of Amazing! mops and Incredible! knives that could cut through leather and Miraculous! massage pillows. A couple of barns housed the usual chickens and cows and a small petting zoo. Kiosks scattered throughout offered onion burgers, cotton candy, and a variety of meats on a stick.
Chloe hated it.
Well, she didn't hate the fair, per se. She wasn't fond, however, of the fact that the rest of her group had paired off—Dylan and Miranda, Beck and Wren, even Tru and some boy from her Trig class—leaving Chloe as the proverbial third wheel.
Or seventh wheel, she supposed. Whatever.
They did their best to include her, even restrained themselves from excessive PDA, but it still left Chloe feeling bereft. Reminded her even more of what was missing—who was missing—from their little group.
By the time they reached the Fun House, Chloe was just about funned out.
“You guys go ahead,” she said. “I think I'm going to get a funnel cake or something.”
“I'll stay with you,” Miranda offered, but her eyes darted to Dylan, and Chloe knew she was thinking about sitting next to him in that little car in the dark.
“You will not,” Chloe said, pushing on when Miranda opened her mouth to respond. “I'm fine. I swear. I'll meet you guys over there when you're done.” She motioned toward a cluster of wooden tables near the food booths.
“Chlo—”
“Go!”
Miranda hesitated, and Chloe gave her a little shove. “Go have fun,” she ordered. “I'll see you in a bit.”
“If you're sure . . .”
Chloe laughed, a little loud and forced, but she hoped Miranda wouldn't notice. “I'm sure! Now go!”
Miranda gave her a small smile and nodded. She joined the others in line and Chloe gave them a wave before heading over to the funnel cake cart.
Then she saw it: The top of a bright yellow tent, tucked away behind the kiddie rides, in the shadowed area to the side of the abandoned grocery store. Curious, she wandered over, narrowly avoiding a group of screaming three-year-olds with chocolate smeared on their faces. The tent flap was open, a pale glow emanating from the interior. And just to the left of the opening sat a wooden sign.
Fortunes Told - $1.00
An unexpected chill ran down Chloe's back and she shook it off with a nervous laugh.
“Get it together,” she muttered to herself. “It's just a carnival game.”
But the words felt like a lie.
Compelled by her sparking intuition, Chloe approached the tent and with a deep breath, entered. Inside, she found a typical fortune-teller setup—worn, overlapping rugs covering the asphalt underfoot, lots of flickering candles, subtle New-Agey music, and a low table draped with a shiny purple tablecloth. A crystal ball on a silver stand sat in the center of the table, a pair of folding chairs on either side. Chloe hesitated, unsure of what to do next.
“Be right there!” A voice called out from beyond a patterned curtain at the back of the makeshift room.
A familiar voice, but one Chloe couldn't quite place.
Her stomach flipped, and Chloe was suddenly certain finding the tent was no coincidence.
After a moment, the curtain moved aside and a woman appeared before her, dressed in stereotypical fortune teller attire—a flowing skirt and ruffled blouse with a bright turquoise sash tied around her waist. Tiny bells were sewn to the ends of the sash and tinkled as she walked. The woman was tall and thin, her hair tied up under a yellow scarf, and huge golden hoops dangled from her ears. She smiled at Chloe and creases appeared in her brown skin—around her eyes and mouth—and again, Chloe felt a rush of familiarity.
“Oh,” the woman said, “it's you.”
“Do I—” Chloe studied the woman's face. “I think I know—Have we met?”
The woman pressed a hand to her chest and frowned. “I'm hurt that you don't remember!”
“I'm sorry—”
She laughed. “I'm teasing, Chloe. Chloe, right? I'm Eve DuBois. We met a few months ago? You and your friend Miranda came to my house?”
It all came back to Chloe in a rush—drinking tea with Eve, talking
about Chloe's gift.
Going back to the house to find it empty, with no sign of Eve or that anyone had lived in the house for months.
“How—What—” Chloe tried to get her thoughts straight. She was overwhelmed by this strange twist of events.
“Have a seat,” Eve said, pointing to one of the chairs while she moved to a small table and poured two cups of tea. She placed one of the cups in front of Chloe and took a sip out of the other as she sat opposite her. “I'm sure you have questions.”
Chloe blinked. “Well, I'd say that's putting it mildly.”
“Well, then,” Eve said, setting down her cup on a cracked saucer. “Ask.”
“It wasn't your house,” Chloe replied, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “Who are you, really?”
Eve waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that's neither here nor there, is it? I think you have a more important question to ask.”
Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but closed it slowly. Eve was right. There was something more important she needed to know.
“Where is Ethan?” she whispered.
Eve's eyes softened, and she shook her head, slowly. “I'm sorry. That's something I'm not able to tell you.”
Chloe let out a frustrated huff. “Well, then what's the point? Why am I here?” When Eve sat silently, she asked, “Can I save him?”
Eve sighed. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “But the true question is, at what price?”
Chloe knew what that meant. Chaos. Ethan contained it inside him, but if he was freed, what would happen to the monster inside him? Would it carry on with its plan to destroy the world? Would Ethan's sacrifice be for nothing?
“But the time has passed,” Chloe said quickly, almost pleading. “The Chaos wanted the power from the solar flares to break free. That's over. So, even if it was released—”
“If it was released, it would continue to wreak havoc as it has for millennia,” Eve replied. “You know this.”
“But there has to be a way—”
“You asked the question. I gave you an answer,” Eve said sharply.
Chloe slumped in her seat, defeated. “Then why do I keep seeing him?” she asked quietly. “Why do I have visions where I'm in his skin? If I'm not supposed to try and help him, then why?” Tears filled her eyes at the sudden rush of overwhelming anguish and futility. “I keep seeing him. I keep feeling what he's feeling,” she choked out. “Over and over. But I can't find any way to help him. I can't—” she broke off, sobbing quietly.
After a long moment, Eve touched her arm gently and handed her a tissue, muttering something to herself that Chloe couldn't quite make out.
“I don't know where he is,” Eve said, whispering quickly. She darted a quick look over her shoulder. “I can't tell you that.”
Chloe's confusion took a sharp turn to hope. “But you know something.”
Eve pursed her lips, torn for a moment. “Only that he's not here.”
“Not here? In Gatesburg you mean? In Washington?”
“No, not here as in . . . this world.”
Chloe gasped. “What? Where is he then?”
“I can't tell you anything more,” Eve said, getting to her feet and bending to blow out some candles. “Only that he's somewhere you cannot reach him. Nobody can. I'm sorry.”
Chloe grabbed her arm, stilling the woman. “Wait! You have to tell me wh—”
“You can't reach him,” Eve said firmly. “You need to stop trying. Move on. You must accept that there's nothing else you can do.” She shook off Chloe's hand and headed toward the back of the tent, turning back as she reached the curtain.
“I'm sorry,” she said quietly before disappearing behind it.
“No! Wait!” Chloe got up from the chair, but her foot caught in one of the legs and she stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. She regained her balance and ripped through the curtain, only to find the back of the tent empty, save for a couple of folding chairs. She raced through the flap at the back of the tent, emerging in the darkening shadows next to the grocery store. Ahead of her, she saw nothing but an overflowing dumpster . . . to the left, only a sagging chain link fence, so she turned to the right, heading quickly back toward the carnival.
“Eve!” she called out, frantically scanning the area as she rushed toward the fence at the far end of the store. But Eve was nowhere to be found. Disheartened and angry, she made her way back to the food booths, to find the others waiting anxiously for her.
“Are you okay?” Miranda asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”
Chloe fought back tears of frustration. “I'm fine, but I need you guys to help me.”
“Help you what?” Beck asked.
Chloe sniffed and wiped her eyes, taking in the growing crowd around them.
“Find a needle in a haystack,” she replied.
“Knock it off!” Wren giggled as Beck nuzzled her neck. “We're supposed to be searching!”
Beck sighed, leaving his arm over her shoulders as he pulled back. “We've been searching for an hour. If Eve was still here, we would have found her by now.”
“I know, but we promised Chloe,” she replied.
Beck nodded, knowing Wren was right. Chloe was pretty torn up by what the fortune teller had told her—or hadn't told her, really. But she was convinced the woman knew something about Ethan's whereabouts, and she was frantic that they track her down and find out exactly what that was.
So far, they weren't having much luck.
They rounded the corner by the Ferris wheel, and examined the faces of the people in line. Beck thought it was probably a waste of time. He doubted a fortune teller in a turban and hoop earrings would be standing in line for a carnival ride.
“I think we have to face the fact that she's gone,” he said.
Wren let out a long breath. “How long until we're supposed to meet the others?”
Beck checked his watch. “About five minutes.”
“Let's go check the tent one more time,” she suggested.
They wound their way over to the fortune teller's tent. Several of them had checked it multiple times, only to find it abandoned and dark, but to Beck's surprise, when it came into view, there was light emanating from the open flap.
“Should we get the others?” Wren asked.
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let's see what we find, first. Don't want to get anyone's hopes up.”
They quickened their steps as they approached the tent, not pausing before they walked inside. A woman sat at a table in the candlelit interior, but she was definitely not Eve, according to Chloe's description. She was shorter, younger, plumper, and looked up with a gasp, hand pressed to her chest.
“Oh! You startled me!” she said through a laugh.
Beck wondered how a fortune teller could be startled. He opened his mouth to ask, but Wren seemed to read his mind and elbowed him gently.
“We're looking for Eve,” Wren said.
“Who?”
Beck had just about had enough of all the evasions. “Eve. She was here earlier tonight. Tall, skinny lady in a yellow turban?”
The fortune teller shook her head in confusion. “I'm sorry. I'm not sure who you mean. I'm the only one reading tonight,” she said.
“Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing,” Beck said, planting his palms on the table and leaning toward the woman. “But Chloe doesn't deserve this.”
“Beck,” Wren warned.
The woman stood up and moved tentatively toward the curtain leading to the back of the tent. “I don't know who Chloe is. And I don't know anyone named Eve,” she said, glaring as she held up her cell phone. “I have security on speed dial, so I suggest you step back.”
Beck's anger prodded at him, and his fingers began to tingle. Wren touched his arm and moved forward to block the view of his glowing fist, and Beck forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.
“I'm sorry,” Wren said. “We didn't mean to storm in here and freak you o
ut. Our friend just met someone here earlier and we're trying to track her down.”
The fortune teller relaxed a fraction, but still held the phone with her thumb poised over the screen. “And I'm telling you I don't know what you're talking about,” she said. “I've been here all night, except for a dinner break.”
“And there's no one else working here?” Beck asked.
“That's what I'm saying!” she replied, throwing up her hands. “Now, if you don't mind, I have customers waiting.”
Only when Beck and Wren finally moved toward the tent opening did she lower the cell phone.
“Sorry for bothering you,” Beck said.
The woman didn't reply, and the two left the tent as another couple entered.
“Well, that was weird,” Wren muttered.
Beck rubbed the back of his neck. “This lady, Eve, seems to have a habit of disappearing without a trace.”
“It's almost like she knew Chloe would be here,” Wren said as they navigated their way through the kiddie rides on their way to meet the others. “I mean, it's too big of a coincidence, isn't it?”
“Well, if she really is a psychic . . .” Beck said. Wren shot him a look and he shrugged. “What? Given everything we've seen, it's hardly out of the realm of possibility.”
“But why?” Wren asked. “Why would she seek Chloe out and then not answer any of her questions? It doesn't make any sense.”
“Unless she's trying to warn Chloe off,” Beck suggested.
“But again. Why?”
“Because going after Ethan is dangerous?” Beck replied. “Not only to Chloe, but to all of us?”
Wren let out a heavy sigh. “So you think we should give up.”
“I'm not saying that.”
Wren stopped short and whirled to face him, hands on her hips. “Well, what are you saying?” she snapped.
“Hey,” Beck said softly, reaching out to rub her upper arms. “I'm not saying anything. I'm just trying to figure this all out. Same as you.”
Wren chewed on her lip, then nodded. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “This is hard on all of us, you know? We all want to find Ethan.”
Super Heroes (The New Super Humans #4) Page 5
