Chaos

by Lanie Bross

  She must have hit her head on something, really hard.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, motionless, when she realized that Tyler and the others had gone. She peeked out from the trees and saw them, distantly, at the other side of the park, getting into a car she recognized as Tyler’s.

  She stood up, leaning against the trunk of a tree for support. There was a faint pulsing under her fingers, through the rough bark. The air shifted. She felt as if the tree was a hand, warm and inviting; she could feel its sap like blood. A high-pitched whine started in her head, just like in her dream, and it made her pulse leap. When she inhaled, there were new aromas, exotic ones that had no place in the middle of San Francisco.

  She could hear everything: not just the wind through the leaves, but the clouds floating overhead, the trees inhaling and exhaling.

  And … footsteps.

  Two people were with her in the grove talking in hushed tones. A boy and a girl.

  “I don’t see him anywhere,” the girl said.

  “He is expendable. She’s the one we’re after.” The boy sounded cold and determined.

  Their whispers were as clear as if they were talking directly to Jasmine.

  Jasmine felt uneasy, filled with a buzzing electricity that came from the air, from the wind, from the trees. She crouched in the cluster of trees, listening. She heard the wisp of metal against denim, knew instinctively that one had just pulled out a knife.

  “There she is!” the girl shouted, pointing in Jasmine’s direction.

  A shock of red hair flashed between the branches as the girl fought her way toward Jasmine. The boy, a dark figure dressed in camo pants and a black hooded sweatshirt pulled low over his face, threw himself at the thick curtain of leaves between them, slicing through them with his blade.

  The tree screamed—or maybe the screaming was just in her head. Jasmine felt hurt as though it were her own body that had been cut. She moved in the opposite direction. Her skin screamed in pain as she backed up against the trunk. The whine got louder, but the boy didn’t appear to hear it at all.

  He lunged again, and the noise grew deafening. Bloodlust ran through her veins like a fever. Without thinking, she grabbed the boy’s wrist and twisted it forcefully, sending the knife to the ground. His eyes grew wide and he tried to get away, but he couldn’t. Jasmine was stronger, and yet she felt completely wild—she had no control over this strength, no idea where it came from.

  Her fingers slid around his throat and she started to squeeze.

  The hood of his sweatshirt fell back.

  A calm deadliness settled over the grove.

  The scent of blood filled the small grove. Instinct took over.

  The sharp points of her teeth felt unfamiliar against her tongue.

  “Jas!” A voice pierced through the high-pitched sound at the edges of her mind.

  Jasmine stopped to listen. Luc appeared several feet away, gasping for breath, and stopped when he saw her, his eyes wide with disbelief. Reality seeped into Jas, cooling the bloodlust, and her grip loosened.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She let go of the boy and he stumbled back a few feet, where he fell onto his hands and knees, gasping for air.

  Luc started toward Jasmine but then stopped and picked something up off the ground. The boy’s knife. He paled and spun around, facing the boy.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Luc demanded.

  The boy just stared up at Luc with a mixture of pain and resolve on his face.

  Luc stood over him with the knife clenched in his fist. Oh God, was he going to hurt the guy because of her? This was all so wrong. The whining had stopped, and now Jasmine heard the familiar sounds of the city. Her hands still shook, and she could still feel the faint beating of the boy’s pulse under her fingertips. The lust for blood was gone too, and she felt sick, like she’d just ridden a mega roller coaster.

  Something horrible had taken over inside her, and the worst part was that it felt so natural.

  “Luc?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  She saw the hesitation on his face.

  The fear.

  Was he afraid for her or of her?

  “We’re only doing what we must.” The girl stepped hesitantly from behind a tree. Her palms were turned up to show she wasn’t armed. “You of all people must understand that.”

  Luc growled at the girl, “Haven’t they taken enough already?”

  Jasmine looked from Luc to the girl. Did they know each other?

  “We don’t make the rules,” she said with a shrug.

  Her casualness seemed to make Luc even madder. “I don’t believe in your rules. That should be clear by now.”

  Jasmine watched the exchange, growing more confused by the second.

  “You know how this has to end,” the girl said. With a wary eye on Luc, she walked over to the boy and helped him stand.

  They disappeared, and Jasmine sagged under the weight of what had happened. Luc wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his chest.

  “I don’t understand.” Jasmine felt as though she’d stepped out of a nightmare into that place where dreams and reality are still mixed together. “What just happened? Who were those people?”

  “Shhh. It’s okay.” She couldn’t help but notice how his voice shook.

  Jas wanted to believe him, but it didn’t feel like things were ever going to be okay.

  How was this all supposed to end?

  Luc paced in the kitchen. Jasmine was taking a shower. It was pure luck he’d seen Jasmine at that park. He saw the boy first, creeping around with what looked like a knife in his hand, and had reacted instinctively. Some loser, he’d thought, out to rob someone, or worse.

  And then he’d seen Jas, and the real fear had kicked in. She’d looked too much like how he’d found her in the Forest of the Blood Nymphs: pale and feral and deadly.

  But just as quickly, she was his little sister again, scared and confused.

  They’d walked to the bus stop after Jasmine insisted she didn’t need to go back to the hospital to have the cut on her arm looked at. The wound stopped bleeding almost immediately, but Luc couldn’t relax. Dread was still a solid mass in his stomach.

  Jasmine thought the attack was random, but he knew better. The knife he had found was achingly familiar.

  Corinthe had had one exactly like it.

  Just thinking Corinthe’s name sent a pang through his chest. He missed her. He needed her.

  She was his other. He knew it now, and he’d stop at nothing to get her back. He remembered sitting in the Great Gardens of Pyralis Terra. Corinthe lay dying, her head in his lap. They were surrounded by millions of stars.

  “Please stay with me, Corinthe. Be with me. Choose me. I need you.”

  Her smile this time was the barest flicker, like a candle trying to stand up to a storm.

  “I did choose you, Luc. Luc … I …”

  That was the last thing she said before her eyes closed. He had promised her then that he’d find a way for them to be together again, and that promise fed the fire in his gut. He would never give up on her. But it appeared as though the Unseen Ones were trying to stop him already.

  Luc would bet anything that the boy and girl who had attacked Jas were Executors, just like Corinthe had been: servants of order charged with making sure that what was fated came to pass.

  It wasn’t just the knife that proved it—it was what the girl had said about only doing what they must. Corinthe talked like that.

  Corinthe used to talk like that.

  But if they were Executors, why were they after Jasmine? He knew Executors faced severe penalties if they failed in their tasks. Hell. Corinthe had been tasked with his death—at least, that’s what she believed—and she’d pursued him across worlds.

  She was different, though. Corinthe questioned things. She was relentlessly fierce but also so vulnerable; he remembered being with her in the
Land of the Two Suns, and how she had fallen asleep in his arms by the fire.

  Ultimately, she’d sacrificed her life to save his.

  Corinthe was dead. Pyralis had been saved. Order had been restored. So why had Jas been attacked? And why, then, had the Executors retreated? It didn’t make sense.

  Unless …

  Unless the Executors hadn’t been sent to kill Jas.

  Was the attack a message to him? Did the Unseen Ones know what he intended to do?

  Maybe the fact that Luc had found Jasmine mid-attack wasn’t coincidence after all.

  Earlier, Luc had gone looking for the Crossroad, but in a city as big as San Francisco, in the aftermath of the worst earthquake in two decades, it was an impossible task. Still, his instincts were different than they had been. Traveling across universes, seeing worlds where order ticked like a clock and places where shadows and people lived separately—it had changed him, somehow.

  Losing Corinthe had changed him.

  And he had the archer, the necklace Corinthe had given him, which would function as a compass to lead him to another world. He would use it to find the Crossroad that would lead him to Rhys, his friend from the Land of the Two Suns. Rhys had told him once that he turned back time. Luc would find him and have him do it again. They would rewind time and save Corinthe before any of this had happened.

  In the bathroom, the water stopped running. A second later, Luc heard Jasmine begin to hum—some new indie song no one but fifteen people had ever listened to, he had no doubt. The sound made his chest ache. When Jas had disappeared, he’d been terrified he’d never have her home, and safe, again. How could he endanger her? If he continued looking for a way to save Corinthe, would the Executors go after Jasmine again? Would they succeed in hurting her?

  He needed to make sure Jas stayed safe.

  Then, if he could find the Crossroad, he could draw the Executors’ attention to himself. Having Executors after him was old news. He could handle it. After he found Rhys and got the information he needed, he could save Corinthe and then things would be over for good.

  Back to normal.

  Happily ever after.

  In the meantime, Jasmine couldn’t know what was going on. Especially not how she had almost died in the Forest of the Blood Nymphs. If he tried to tell her—about Executors, and Crossroad, and other worlds, and Corinthe—she’d probably think the earthquake had shaken something loose in his brain.

  He needed to protect her, and that meant she had to be protected from the truth.

  The idea came to him at once: Aunt Hillary. As soon as the blow-dryer started going in the bathroom, Luc punched their aunt’s number into his cell phone, praying she’d be at home and would agree to take care of Jasmine for a few days.

  She was home, and she was as snippy as ever. Aunt Hillary had the personality of an ice pick. But she agreed to come pick Jasmine up in forty minutes.

  Luc put down the phone, feeling slightly better. Aunt Hillary’s house smelled like peppermint and lavender. She kept about a dozen cats around, too, and she had a way of making even comments about the weather sound like insults. Jasmine would be bored out of her mind.

  Which was kind of the point.

  Jas emerged from the bathroom in her familiar pink robe, her long hair, now dry, hanging loosely down to her waist. For a moment, Luc imagined it was a normal day—before the earthquake, before Jasmine’s capture by Miranda, before the Land of the Two Suns and Rhys and the world of memory mists.

  Before Corinthe.

  But when Jas scooted past him and reached for a mug, the long red scratch on her arm proved the past few days hadn’t been some kind of crazy, tangled dream.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. He would never be at peace until he found a way to save Corinthe. In a universe full of hundreds and thousands of worlds, there had to be a way to bring someone back from the dead. Giving up was not an option.

  “That shower felt amazing.” Jasmine smiled, and he felt a surge of hope. His sister was okay. She was home safe.

  Anything was possible and that proved it.

  She filled the mug with water, stuck it in the microwave, and punched start. “Tea?”

  “No thanks.” He took pleasure in watching her stretch on her tiptoes to reach the tea, rustle through the cabinets for honey—familiar, everyday motions. But it couldn’t last. Not yet. He cleared his throat. “Look, I need you to get dressed and pack a bag with some things.”

  She looked at him with her eyebrows drawn down. “Where are we going?”

  “You are going to Aunt Hillary’s for a few nights. I have something I need to do.”

  “Aunt Hillary?” Jasmine echoed. She shook her head and returned to spooning honey into the mug. “No way. I’ll just hang out here. I’ve stayed alone a thousand times.”

  “I don’t want you home alone,” Luc said sharply. Jasmine looked at him. He took a deep breath. “Look, there are things going on that I can’t explain right now. I need to know you’re safe.”

  Jasmine turned to face him, crossing her arms. “Tell me,” she said. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.” She looked away. “Did I … was it something I took, Luc? Is that why I can’t remember anything?”

  Her voice trembled a little, and it made his heart ache. Jas had OD’d earlier in the spring. A combination of Ecstasy and alcohol. Since then, she had sworn she would stay off drugs, sworn she would stick with a psychiatrist. But Luc had spent months feeling like at any second, disaster would strike and he would lose her.

  And then he had lost her—to Miranda, and the Forest of the Blood Nymphs.

  He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And when this is over, I’ll tell you everything.” Maybe.

  Jasmine’s dark eyes clicked back to his. “Promise on Mom?”

  He made an X over his heart. “Promise on Mom. But for tonight, you go with Aunt Hillary. I already called her and she said it was okay. She’s on her way.”

  Jasmine groaned. “What am I supposed to say when she starts asking about Dad?”

  “You like fairy tales,” Luc said, cracking a small smile. “Spin her a good one.”

  “Do I have to?” Jas asked as she sipped her tea.

  Luc lifted his hands behind his neck and looked at the ceiling. After a long exhale, he let his hands fall to his sides and glanced at Jas. “It won’t be for long. Just trust me, okay? Now please go get dressed and pack a bag so we don’t keep her waiting.”

  Jasmine sighed exaggeratedly, but she didn’t protest any more. She went down the hall to her room and closed the door. Luc glanced at the time. Ten o’clock. As soon as Jas was safely off, he’d use the archer to begin his search for the Crossroad.

  He already knew where he would look first: the Land of the Two Suns on the outskirts of the universe. Rhys knew secrets about the universe; he was the one who had told Corinthe and Luc about the flower needed to save Jasmine from the Forest of the Blood Nymphs.

  Rhys would know how Luc could undo everything and save Corinthe.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her slipping from him, the sky lit up in oranges and reds as if a bomb had exploded the stars. He’d promised her that he would find a way to be with her.

  He’d promised it to himself.

  “I tore apart this apartment and I must’ve lost my phone last night—I mean, Friday night,” Jasmine said, fifteen minutes later. She emerged from her room carrying a small backpack. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and without makeup on, she looked young and innocent. Like the sister he remembered. “What am I supposed to do without it? I still don’t know why I can’t stay here.”

  “The people who attacked you today might have followed us home.” He debated whether to tell her more and finally settled for saying, “The truth is, I think I might know who they are.”

  “You know them?” Jasmine’s eyes practically popped out of her head.

  “I … recognized them,” he said cautiously. “At leas
t, I think I did. I’m going to find out for sure.”

  “They had knives, Luc,” Jasmine said softly.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything dumb. Not until I know for sure, anyway.” He grinned at her, hoping she’d return the smile. But she just stood there, staring, looking troubled.

  A loud car horn sounded outside and Luc went to the window. An old Buick was parked downstairs. Definitely Aunt Hillary. When he turned, Jasmine’s chin was trembling.

  “This just feels wrong,” she said.

  He crossed the room and gave her a big hug. “Everything will be okay, I swear it, Jas.” He’d been making that promise a lot lately.

  She pulled away and made a face. “You are going to owe me so big.”

  He smiled. He nudged her shoulder with his and picked up her bag. “You used to tell me that Aunt Hillary reminded you of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “I think it’s the wart on her chin,” Jasmine said, and they both laughed. Then she got serious again. “You be careful, okay?”

  “I will,” he said, and mentally added, I hope.

  They walked down the two flights of stairs to the main door. Outside, the air was cool, and still layered with a fine white dust kicked up from the earthquake. It shimmered almost like snow in the air.

  Aunt Hillary blasted her horn again. Luc rolled his eyes. Didn’t she see them right there? He jogged down the porch steps and yanked open the door to the dinosaur-era Buick. A blast of peppermint-lavender scent hit him right in the face.

  Aunt Hillary hadn’t changed at all. Her hair was twisted into a tight knot, and she had on the brightest orange lipstick he’d ever seen. The wart on her chin trembled as if it, too, were impatient. Her fingers, which tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, were covered in gaudy rings.

  “Well, look at you two.” The tone of her voice made it clear she didn’t think they looked good. “He couldn’t even bother to come down and see you off. Or is he keeping a barstool warm already?”

  Luc ignored her and stood back to let Jasmine climb in.