“Chance told me.”
“Told you what?” Tessa’s eyes widened. She couldn’t conceal the guilt evident on her face.
“That they all died. That none of the Enchantlings made it to their twenty-first birthday.”
Tessa glanced to Chance then back to me again. “Oh, he told you, did he? But don’t you see, we’re making progress and besides, there’s never been a male Enchantling before, so perhaps that will work in our favor.”
“Surely, there’s something you know to help us figure out where to start? Like if there’s anything else we should expect.” I glanced to Chance and back to the mirror. “It might be helpful if I’m better prepared next time something unusual happens like Chance finding another clone.”
Or Griffith offering himself up to me in exchange for embracing the Underworld. Like I said, I didn’t like surprises.
“Since you’re back home and the three of you are together, your powers will mature now and could get stronger. I don’t know in what way, one’s powers and the rate of their maturation is a very individualized process.” Tessa shrugged. “With some people, achieving their abilities takes years, and others may never realize their full potential.”
I sighed, knowing if I listened long enough, I might find the answer embedded in Tessa’s endless prattle.
Tessa kept peering over her shoulder, as if she feared someone might be eavesdropping. “That’s one thing I think I’m allowed to say about this place. That the punishment for some people ending up here is letting them know what their full potential in life was intended to be. What they missed out on because they didn’t take that chance or make the extra effort. It’s terribly depressing for them.”
She pressed her lips together before she continued. “To live with regret for eternity.”
I’d always wondered what if I’d had a family, or met my mother, or if we hadn’t had to move so much. Had I missed out on a wonderful life, or avoided one that would’ve been worse? Would I want to know either way? If I found out my life would’ve been better, but there was nothing to do to change that now. I could only wonder if I was meant to be with my family, or not. Maybe knowing the what if’s isn’t always a good thing.
Tessa was quiet, chewing on her lower lip. I knew this look. “Tessa, what do you want to say?” Her internal battle was visible on her face.
“I don’t know if it’s a good thing for you to know.” Tessa slid a look at Chance, who’d continued to stare at the mirror in amazement. “Or at least it may not be something Chance should know.”
“What?” Chance returned his focus to the conversation at hand.
I rolled my eyes. This was classic Tessa. Telling me she knew something I shouldn’t know, or Chance shouldn’t, only made me want to know so badly it could fester and drive me crazy.
Although often, the information she pondered the ramifications about sharing was as simple as, you may not like what was for dinner that evening.
“What about me? I think I need to know.” Chance held his hand out toward me. “We need to know anything that might be beneficial.”
I looked at his outstretched fingers with uncertainty then clasped his hand. Having his hand to hold felt better than I’d thought it would.
It would’ve been nice if Destiny had come over as well, but I don’t think she’d gotten comfortable with going out much, yet. Maybe I would stop over and see her. Get some sister time in.
“Well, this might be hard for all of you, but I think it has a lot to do with much of the resentment of the Oppressors toward you.” Tessa shook her finger at us. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you this might be information you don’t want to know. You can’t un-know it once you hear what I have to say. Well at least I don’t think you can—”
“Tessa,” Chance and I said simultaneously.
“Oh, sorry.” She shifted and the mist surrounding blurred her image and then cleared as she leaned forward again. “It’s about your parents.”
“Our parents?” My heart accelerated. Why hadn’t I thought to ask this earlier? Seeing them in the mirror wouldn’t be the same as having them alive, but would be something. Something positive in all this craziness I didn’t even think was possible. I wondered if they were there, where Tessa was.
“Can I…can I see them?” I swallowed, trying to pull moisture into my mouth, which had become as dry as a desert.
Sneaking a peek at Chance I found uncertainty on his face. He’d never met our parents either. I squeezed his hand.
His characteristic smirk was gone. His lips pulled into a quick, strained smile, and he squeezed my hand back.
“If you think we need to know, then we need to hear it.” He stood a little taller.
My little brother wanted to take care of me. I sniffed to stop any overflow as my eyes filled with unshed tears. This wasn’t the time to get sentimental.
“Oh kids, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Tessa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “They aren’t here. I mean, at least I know your mother isn’t. I can’t say for sure about your dad.”
“Oh.” It was all I could say. Averting my gaze to focus on the placemats Ruthie had arranged on the table. Roosters. I’d never noticed before. The placemats were so unlike my style. I guess it didn’t matter, but like Tessa said before. Sometimes the little things made the difference.
Forcing my eyes wide to keep the tears from falling. Here I was, insisting this meeting was all about business, and turns out I’m the emotional one. I couldn’t look at Chance yet.
“You see, kids, what I’ve figured out about this place is the people waiting here have unfinished business. I’m sure your mother felt her work was done once she ensured the three of you were born. She was a strong, brave woman. She endured a lot in her lifetime.”
Tessa nodded. “Always with a smile. Safely delivering the three of you was her only concern all those months.”
“What do you mean, safely? Is it because we were triplets?” I pulled my gaze away from the rooster placemats and back to Tessa who appeared more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen her. She never did like confrontation and for good reason. She was terrible at awkward conversations and tended to blurt out the information in the most unceremonious way just to relieve herself of the pressure of having to do it.
“Well, there was that.” Tessa’s gaze darted to Chance then down to intently study her fingernails.
Chance noticed Tessa’s look, as well.
“That and what, Tessa?” he said. “Just say it. Is it because of me?”
“What?” I furrowed my brow. I’d been the cause of all the distress. Tessa hiding me, moving me and keeping secrets, losing out on any time with her family or having a family of her own, because of me. “Why would it be because of you?”
He sighed, as if frustrated by my continued questions. “Hope, there’s much for you to learn about our kind yet—”
“Our kind?” I’d yet to think of me, or any of us, as a kind. More like people with a little more.
He waved me off. “There are never any men born into our line. They marry into it.”
He leveled his gaze with the mirror. “Except for me, right Tessa?”
“That we know of.” Tessa’s glasses slid as she nodded vigorously. “There could be more. No one has ever gone through all our family tree to connect the dots. It’s almost impossible to do so. Our older ancestors often traveled in circuses or lived as gypsies. They sought out people like them, because they weren’t comfortable living on their own. People used to get hanged back then with any little idiosyncrasy. Who’d want to risk that?”
“But you said triplets were rare, I’m sure that would be an exception to the no-boys rule, wouldn’t it?” I squeezed Chance’s hand, trying to offer reassurance.
“Maybe.” Tessa drew out the word in a way that I knew there was more behind it.
“Or what?” The tension from Chance pushed into my body. I wasn’t sure if I detected his anxiety because I held his hand, or if th
is was one of those connections multiples can have.
“There’s just no easy way to say it.”
I tensed at Tessa’s standard line when she didn’t want to sugarcoat something. In the past, she’d used this line to tell me my cat was dead, or that I’d been accused of something or other, or we were moving the next day. This couldn’t be good.
Tessa looked from me to Chance and then back again.
I held my breath.
“While your mother was pregnant...” Tessa hesitated. “She was raped.”
“Raped?” Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room. I didn’t know what was worse. The horror and pain she must’ve went through, or her being pregnant when this happened and unable to protect her unborn children. I held my stomach as nausea rose.
“Who?” Chance pulled his hand from mine and raised his fist to Tessa as if she were the one at fault.
“Who did it?” He was yelling now, a side I’d not yet seen of him. The sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing increased to a pant.
“Chance, calm down. It’s not Tessa’s fault.” I tried to grab his arm, and he shook me off. The crazed look in his eye had me taking a step back.
“Don’t you see?” He laughed.
His laugh sounded gravelly and rough, not like him at all. I studied him, unsure of what he was going to do next. It was like a light had been switched, and another personality came out.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t see.” His tone was cruel, harsh. He held up his arms and let them fall to his sides. He strode around the room and then turned to me, the new focus of his anger.
“You’ve gotten to live your life like a normal person.” His mocking voice matched the taunts of the kids from my childhood. “Not having to deal with this under-layer of the world. Your biggest worry until now was probably what to wear the next day.”
I blinked once, hard.
“They’ve left us alone this long because of you. They wanted to lure you here and not scare you off. Until you decide. You.”
He brandished his finger like a sword, his words cutting just as effectively. “You have a choice. We don’t. We were born here. We’ll die here. If you choose them, we die. If you choose us, we’ll probably die as well because you’re too busy worrying about your damn self.”
Chance ran his hand through his hair. Sweat poured from his face.
My vision grayed, feeling as if I was in gym class, hoping to be picked first. I had never been the captain and never got to choose. Usually I didn’t even get to play. Now it’s my chance, my choice, and I didn’t want it. I shook my head.
“Let me spell it out for you. This rapist.” He held up his hands and made air quotations around the words. “This rapist is probably my father.”
“Your father? That’s ludicrous. Mom was already pregnant. The rapist wouldn’t be your father.”
He had the same crazy look on his face I’d seen when I visited Griffith’s mother. I wasn’t getting through to him. “Tell him, Tessa. Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”
I didn’t hear any immediate response in support of this, like I’d hoped. The one confirming Chance was overreacting. Tessa twisted her lips, obviously biding her words. Chance had noticed her expression as well.
“Tessa?” I said. “Tell him mom was already pregnant when she was raped.”
“Yes, she was pregnant.” Tessa’s eyes bulged behind her glasses.
“With how many babies?” Chance demanded.
“What? What are you talking about?” I wished I’d taken more time to learn about my family instead of spending most of my time trying to learn about the Oppressors. Maybe I would’ve been able to follow along better.
“How many babies?” Chance emphasized each word and gave Tessa his full attention.
She cringed back under his scrutiny. “I’m not sure. You know technology isn’t like it used to be. They didn’t do many sonograms, and even when they did they weren’t as accurate. Sometimes in multiples a baby could be hiding behind another baby or the doctor doesn’t find the heartbeat because he doesn’t know to look for any more.”
Tessa was babbling. I knew she was covering up, and I’m sure Chance did, as well.
“Tessa, what are you saying,” I said so low that I wasn’t sure anyone heard me ask.
“They were expecting two babies….at first.”
Chance paced around the small kitchen that now felt claustrophobic. Running his hand through his hair, giving it the appearance of the roosters on the placemats. I didn’t know what to do. I wondered if my abilities worked on Chance and if I could instill some hope in him.
“That’s not possible,” I said. Chance’s distress was killing me. Watching him was bad enough, but I could feel his pain as if it were my own. “There can’t be two different fathers for triplets.”
Chance stopped pacing. “You’re going to tell me that’s not possible? You can accept talking to a dead person in the mirror, creatures appearing out of thin air made up of emotion and that I can replicate myself?”
He threw his hands in the air. “But that is what you question?”
It was an odd feeling, but I knew without a doubt that this is what they meant by a twin-connection. Or a triplet-connection in our case. Chance was my brother and not a half-sibling from some weird freak coincidence. And if I was wrong and we didn’t share the same father, it didn’t matter. It didn’t make Chance any less of the person than he was, I just didn’t know how to convey this to him.
“Who was it?” Chance smacked his palm on the table. “Who did it? Damn it, Tessa, tell me.”
Tessa pulled back in fear, despite the protection of the mirror and the other dimension where she resided. She closed her eyes. “It was Gage Kneel.”
I looked from Tessa to Chance. “Kneel? Is this someone related to Griffith?”
Their eyes were locked together until Tessa broke the connection by averting hers. Her image started to waver as she prepared to leave.
“Tessa, don’t go yet. Not like this.” If she left looking so distraught and heartbroken, she may never come back.
“That’s why they fought, isn’t it?” Chance asked. “Dad knew what he did.”
“Who fought?” I took gulps of air. “Our father? When? Would someone tell me what you’re talking about?”
I’d never thought to ask about my father. All I’d ever gleaned from the orphanage or Tessa was my mother was a single mother and didn’t know who my father was. Another lie, apparently.
Chance met my gaze. “The night he died. Griffith’s father killed our father.”
“Well, technically they both died that night,” Tessa added.
“Does Griffith know this?” I plopped down into the chair, resting my head in my hands. “Is he my brother?”
Horror filled me at the thoughts I’d had about him.
“That’s all you care about? Griffith?” Chance spat out the words. “Doesn’t it matter to you what that makes me? You’re not the one who has to worry about him being your brother. It’s me.”
“Chance, please don’t take your anger out on Hope. Nothing has changed to make you any different.” Tessa pleaded, her usual upbeat self flat and defeated.
“This is when you two need each other the most,” Tessa said. “She doesn’t understand and even if she did, she’d agree with me. You’re who you are and this makes no difference.”
She shook her head forcefully, her curls bouncing off her face. “No difference at all.”
“Then why did you tell us? If it makes no difference? Why even tell us?” I mumbled into my hands as exhaustion overwhelmed me.
“It’s the key. Chance is the key. He can show Griffith there’s another way. That there are options. His destiny is not predetermined. He has a choice.”
Chapter Eighteen
The body lay sprawled out on the floor. A river of blood seeped through a mound of hair, rivulets, like fingers reaching…seeking me. The blood encircled my feet, wet and thick, a shade darker t
han the polish glistening on my toes. The image appeared hazy, as if underwater.
My breath caught as I knelt. The scent of blood was so strong I covered my mouth with one hand to suppress the bile rising in my throat. Reaching for her to place my hand on her shoulder, as the warmth rapidly left her body.
It had been a few days since I’d watched Tessa die again in my dreams. This time, something was different.
Her limbs didn’t look as broken and twisted as they had after she’d fallen. Her arms were stretched out, as if asleep, one tucked underneath her face like she’d lain down to rest her cheek upon it. No bones had torn through her skin, leaving their ends broken and splintered from their impact on the ceramic floor.
I squeezed my eyes shut. It’s just a dream. I fought to keep the pooling tears from leaking out.
I leaned closer. Lifting a lock of hair heavily crusted with blood, I noticed the color underneath wasn’t the dirty blonde from a bottle Tessa preferred. It was red. Red hair with streaks of black.
I touched my hair, but it felt dry. Sitting back on my haunches, I stifled a scream. As I pulled on her shoulder, she rolled lifelessly toward me. Her arm flew out to her side revealing a vertical incision up her wrist where the spurting blood slowed and trickled to a stop as her heart ceased pumping, no longer forcing out its flow.
Sightless, accusing eyes matching my own looked through me.
It wasn’t me. It was Destiny.
I fell off the couch with a thump as the scream ripped from my throat. Thrashing around on the rug, wrestling with myself, I grabbed my wrists and found the skin intact. I touched my head. No blood.
Light poured in through the window. It was mid-afternoon. I must’ve fallen asleep after Chance stormed out of here.
I screeched, the sound raw and primal, when a loud thumping resonated through the room.
Destiny Calling Page 21
