by Lanie Bross
Not only significant, but the key. This was how Rhys had manipulated time, by giving up his own body to the force of the universe and letting the current flow through him—through his heart. Rhys had once given his own energy to alter the winds of time.
Luc closed his eyes and let go of the last bits of resistance. If he had to die to save the people he loved, he would gladly do it. In the darkness, the pulse of the tunnel grew louder, and soon his breathing and heartbeat synced to the same rhythm.
He became one with the tunnel. One with time. One with the universe.
Billions of stars shone behind his eyelids, and it was beautiful. It reminded him of Corinthe, of when they’d first met on the boat and gazed up at the stars together. In each world they had found themselves in, the stars had been the constant guiding force.
Luc focused on them now. His awareness expanded and a new force moved through him. In the span between the beats of the universe’s pulse, a whisper emerged. With each pause, it grew louder.
The stars started to swirl in his mind, and a name surfaced in the silence.
The universe was chanting.
The entire pulse of the universe focused on one thought.
Corinthe.
Her name became the rhythm that powered the heartbeat.
Corinthe. Corinthe. Corinthe.
Each time her name beat inside him, the force grew stronger, as if a speeding train raced inside his head. The wires in his hands grew hot and throbbed with life. He struggled to hold on even as he started to break apart from the inside out.
The wind in the tunnels increased, picked away tiny bits of him as it rushed by. He would be torn apart one cell at a time. His grip began to slip and the wind became even stronger, howling Corinthe’s name all around him.
He couldn’t hold on any longer.
The wires slid between his fingers. He couldn’t fight anymore. He wasn’t strong enough. He had failed.
The wind ripped him free from the wires and lifted him off his feet. As he tumbled through the tunnels, he held on to only one thought.
Corinthe.
Corinthe waited in silence just inside the doors of Mission High School. She leaned close to the windowpane and fogged it with her breath. With a finger, she wrote No. Then she wiped the condensation away with a fist.
It didn’t matter that she hated deaths. It didn’t matter that she liked the principal, Sylvia—as much as she liked any human, at least. The marble had shown her what she must do. She didn’t have a choice.
Tick, tick, tick. Corinthe could hear Sylvia’s heels clicking on the linoleum. She didn’t turn around until Sylvia had rounded the corner.
“Oh, Corinthe. You startled me.” Sylvia withdrew her hand from her purse. She seemed jumpy, as if she already knew something was going to happen. Humans were more perceptive than the Unseen Ones gave them credit for.
Corinthe stared at her silently, trying to remember how to smile. She so rarely had a reason to.
She’d been enrolled in school only a couple of days, but already the principal had taken an interest in her. Sylvia had been careful to emphasize the importance of one’s appearance when they’d met for the first time yesterday to fill out her transfer paperwork—probably because Corinthe’s hair was in a wild tangle down her back, and she was wearing ripped jeans she’d stolen from a thrift store. When Miranda disappeared for days at a time, Corinthe sometimes forgot to keep up appearances.
Sylvia told Corinthe that she’d been a principal for ten years, and that she could see potential. That she had a good eye for these things, and if Corinthe applied herself, she could become an outstanding student.
Corinthe hadn’t bothered to argue. It wouldn’t matter soon.
During Sylvia’s “Welcome to Mission High, Keep Your Nose Clean” speech, Corinthe had simply gazed at her, almost without breathing. She couldn’t let herself get attached—not to Sylvia. Not to anyone.
It would only lead to disappointment.
Corinthe shifted slightly in the doorway. “My foster mom was supposed to pick me up, but she never showed. Do you think …?” Her voice trailed off and she raised her eyes expectantly. She hated lying. Back when she lived in Pyralis, she hadn’t even known how to lie. But this, too, was the job of an Executor.
Sylvia shuffled her stack of folders from her left arm to her right so she could check her watch. Corinthe could see indecision in the principal’s expressions. She probably had plans tonight, but Corinthe knew that Sylvia would never leave a student in the lurch.
She cared about her students too much. Corinthe felt a pulse of—what was it? Guilt?—feelings she had never known before coming here.
“Where do you live?”
Corinthe tilted her head slightly. “It won’t be a long drive.” She spoke in measured tones. She had to be careful not to give anything away.
“Come on, then,” Sylvia said with a sigh.
They left through the main doors. Sylvia walked quickly down the sidewalk, and Corinthe followed a few steps behind, trying not to notice the way the principal’s shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Not her business.
Sylvia turned left at the end of the block and continued toward the staff lot. “Here we are,” she said cheerfully. She stopped next to a small black sedan parked under a flickering streetlamp and pulled out her keys. A quick mechanical chirp echoed in the thick spring air. She threw her things into the back and slid into the driver’s seat. Corinthe quickly climbed into the passenger side.
The car growled to life and Sylvia maneuvered it onto the street. “So. Which way?” she asked.
Corinthe pointed. Sylvia eyed the girl, then turned, zigzagging the car right onto Church, left onto Duboce, right onto Castro Street, each time in response to a silent gesture from Corinthe. The pendant hanging from her rearview mirror swayed back and forth with each turn. Corinthe glanced at it each time it swung her way. Something about it made her feel uneasy.
“It’s St. Jude,” Sylvia explained. “The patron saint of lost causes. Kind of a sad saint, when you think about it.” She half laughed. “Still, everyone could use a miracle, don’t you think?”
“Sure, I guess,” Corinthe said neutrally. She didn’t really believe in miracles—had not even known the word until coming to Humana. Fate was controlled by the Unseen Ones. Everything that happened was orchestrated and carried out exactly as planned. There were no last-minute reprieves. No changes in plan. No sudden moments of salvation.
And today, Sylvia would die.
At first, Luc thought that the silence meant he was dead.
But the ache in his muscles felt too real. There was a ringing in his ears. Then, gradually, sound began to reassert itself. Birds calling to each other. Someone laughing. Wind rippling through trees.
He slowly opened his eyes. He was staring up at a domed ceiling. He sat up with a groan, blinking. He was at the rotunda. Late-afternoon sun streamed in between the columns, speckling the ground with patterns of dark and light. When he carefully pushed to his feet, the sound of laughter filtered through the air.
Everything was perfect. The columns were standing, completely undamaged, and on the street, there was no sign that an earthquake had ever happened.
His heart stopped. Had it worked?
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Five-thirty.
There were several missed text messages from Karen.
Reminder. Dinner at six. Don’t be late again. Want to talk about my party tomorrow night. <3 K
He read the message: once, twice, three times.
If Karen’s party was tomorrow, that meant it was Thursday night. Which meant it was the day he had first seen Corinthe.
He’d done it. He’d turned the clock back.
He was running before he realized it. Thursday. Thursday was the day of the accident—the day Corinthe caused the car to swerve, the day he extracted her from the wreckage. He had to stop her. He needed time to explain everything to Corinthe, to make her remember that
they loved each other.
That they would love each other: it was their future and their fate.
As he ran toward the intersection of Pacific and Divisadero, darting around the people crowding the sidewalk, he tried to remember exactly when the accident had happened. His lungs burned as he forced his feet to go faster.
Would she be there? Would he be too late?
He rounded the corner of Divisadero Street just as a dark sedan hurtled around the corner. He remembered that car. It was the same one. He caught a glimpse of blond hair in the passenger seat.
“Corinthe.” His voice was lost in the sounds from the street.
He wasn’t going to make it in time. The realization made his blood run cold. He tried to push through the crowd, but there were too many people hanging by the crosswalk—tourists with shopping bags and baby strollers.
Then someone ran into the street—he saw a blur of dark hair, the fast cycle of legs. He shouted. This was wrong. Different. The woman behind the wheel—face white, terrified—jerked the car to the left. Brakes screeched and the air smelled like burning rubber. The car jumped the curb and hit a streetlamp. Steam hissed from the engine.
Luc was at the passenger door in seconds.
He jerked it open and came face to face with Corinthe.
“What—what are you doing?” she stammered. Confusion clouded her face.
Luc felt a wave of relief. Corinthe was okay. The driver was okay, too. The dark-haired woman was gripping Corinthe’s arm.
“Corinthe,” she was saying. “Corinthe, are you all right?”
“You ruined it,” Corinthe whispered to him. When he reached across her to unbuckle her seatbelt, she froze. “What are you doing?”
“Corinthe …” As soon as she was free, he pulled her out of the car and threw his arms around her. He had to hold her, to know that she was real and okay.
She stiffened and stepped back abruptly. “How do you know my name? Who—who are you?”
He took a deep breath and let it out to keep his voice steady. “I promised that I’d find a way to save you, and I did. I know you don’t remember me yet, but you will. I love you, Corinthe. And you love me.”
“What?” She shook her head. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. But when he leaned in, she didn’t pull away again. She let him brush his lips against hers. Softly. Like one of the fireflies that carried the marbles to different worlds.
He wanted to keep kissing her forever.
“Have … we met before?” she whispered. Her expression had softened. Her eyes were wide with wonder.
Luc gently took her hand. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, Corinthe. We’ve met.” He brought a hand to her face. She didn’t draw away. Her eyes continued searching his face, as though for an answer to a puzzle.
“This is our second chance,” he said. “I’m not wasting a single second of it. I love you.”
And even if she didn’t know it yet, he could see a promise shining from her beautiful purplish-gray eyes: she would love him, too.
She already did.
Epilogue
Jasmine watched Luc and the girl, Corinthe.
She was beautiful, with wild blond hair spilling like a river down her back, and violet eyes. Jasmine could see why Luc had fallen in love with her.
Jasmine’s heart beat painfully in her throat. Luc had his happy ending, but Ford was gone. The headache had come on fast in the apartment, but no matter how hard she tried to hold on, Ford was ripped from her side.
When the darkness ebbed, she had found herself clutching a marble instead.
The urge had been undeniable, irresistible—like cresting in a roller coaster and plunging down, down, down, stomach soaring, wind whipping. She had been drawn to this street corner as though by some inner magnet. She hurtled out in front of the dark sedan like a crazy person, her legs, feet, body obeying a more powerful command than she could resist.
And then she saw Luc run up to the mangled car. Even from a distance, Jasmine saw the relief on his face.
He had done it.
The marble felt smooth and cool between her fingers. When she held it up, the image swirled inside again: a couple kissing.
Corinthe and Luc.
In the street, she could see Luc kissing Corinthe, a life-sized reproduction of the image in the marble.
The marble cracked apart in Jasmine’s hand, and a small firefly emerged from the orb. She held it up and it hovered there, darting around the palm of her hand, then circling her shoulders.
Jasmine reached up and wrapped her fingers around the key that hung from a chain around her neck. Luc’s fate had been fulfilled, and she’d made a promise to Ford.
But there was something she had to do first.
She turned and began walking toward the rotunda.
First, Jasmine had to send the Messenger home.
Acknowledgments
It takes a village to publish a book, and this book was no exception. I have some really great editors who can weave my imperfect sentences into gold. PLL and especially Rhoda Belleza helped turn the chaos of Chaos into a compelling story that I hope my readers love as much as I do. Thank you for such an amazing opportunity.
Wendy Loggia at Random House is a wonder, and through her edits and questions, Chaos came alive. It was an amazing experience working with her and her team.
My super agent, Mandy Hubbard, not only handles the nitty-gritty stuff but is a master at hand-holding and taming writerly angst. Without her, I’d probably be rocking in the corner with a half-finished manuscript in my lap.
It goes without saying that I couldn’t have done this without the support of my family. Their encouragement and love keep me going on this roller-coaster ride that is my dream. My hope is that my boys will see that anything is possible and will chase their own dreams one day. I love you guys!
Last but not least, a special thanks goes out to my readers. I still can’t believe people are actually reading the words that I write. I’m humbled by you all and thank you all so much.
About the Author
Lanie Bross is the author of Fates and, as Lee Bross, Tangled Webs. She was born in a small town in Maine, where she spent the next eighteen years dreaming of bigger places. After exploring city life, she and her husband and two young sons ended up going right back to the wilds of Maine. They now live just one house down from where she grew up. Fate, perhaps? Lanie loves chasing her rambunctious kids, playing tug-of-war with her ninety-five-pound Lab, and writing for teens.
