Beelah, with her clothes a bit dirty and wrecked in a few places, sat on the edge of the bed.
“Hey Emerson. Theron.” Farris greeted them both. Emerson and Theron both had the same scraped up look Beelah did. The explosion hadn't blown up the entire building, or none of them would be sitting here right now.
Just the kitchen, and that had been bad enough.
“Good to see you, kiddo,” Theron said. He tapped the bed rail with a hand.
“How're you feeling?” Emerson asked. A few butterfly bandages made an 'X' on his forehead. “You look pretty good, considering.”
“Better by the minute. How long was I out?” she asked.
“It's just after ten. A couple hours,” Emerson said.
Beelah rubbed Farris' shoulder with gentle strokes. “I called Mom and Dad. They're in the waiting room. Mom says you can come home with us if they release you.”
“Thanks, Beelah. Maybe I should...I mean...the farmhouse is all right.” Farris was scared to death that another catastrophe would hit, as if the Reaper himself was chasing her down. She didn't want to subject anyone else to danger.
What a crazy thought, Farris.
“The cops said that if you'd been inside the door instead of outside, you would have wound up like Pete,” Emerson said. “The wall and all those shelves saved your butt.”
“But what happened? The nurse said something about a gas leak?” Farris sat up a little more in bed. As lucidity returned, she wanted to be gone from the bed and the hospital. She didn't want to think about poor Pete and what he must have suffered.
“They're still investigating. But that's the preliminary estimation,” Emerson said. He braced his hands against the foot board of the bed, leaning his weight there.
“It was so weird. I thought I smelled something when I went through the kitchen, but I couldn't tell what. If I would have only known--”
“You can't feel guilty. No one could have foreseen it,” Emerson said.
“How weird is it that all this stuff keeps happening?” she whispered, confessing her fears. “Maybe O'ma's right. Maybe something bad is going to happen.”
Emerson scowled. “What?”
“Nah, no way, Farris,” Theron was quick to interject. “Although I'm not sure who, or what, an O'ma is.”
“Don't think that, Farris! It's just coincidence.” Beelah smoothed hair back from Farris' forehead, then explained to Emerson and Theron, “Her grandmother warned her not to go out on her birthday. She said something bad would happen, so now Farris is wondering if it's coming true.”
“What?” Emerson repeated. He let go of the foot board and paced instead. “When did she say this? How did she say it would go down? What kind of threat is it? Is she psychic or something?”
Farris watched Emerson go from concerned to downright uneasy. He stalked back and forth at the end of her bed, mouth pinched in a tight line.
“She's not a psychic,” Farris interjected.
“It was yesterday. On the twenty-eighth. She warned Farris not to leave her house,” Beelah said. “But the nurse told us that Ada is probably just becoming senile. She's really old, you know?”
Emerson grunted. The frown deepened. “Has she ever said anything like this before?”
Farris glanced at Beelah.
“Not that I know of,” Bee said, looking at Farris.
All eyes turned on her. Farris shook her head. “She's never said anything like it before.”
“What about your parents? Where are they? You should stay with them,” Emerson said.
Beelah fiddled with the bed covers, eyes downcast.
Farris groaned inwardly. Now she had to explain about her parents. The last thing she wanted to do. “My dad left when I was little and my mom--”
“Her mom moved away not long after, so she went to live with her grandmother,” Beelah interrupted.
Farris, surprised that Beelah dropped a white lie, fell silent.
Emerson didn't seem to notice. “She probably is just imagining things, Farris. All these things are pretty coincidental but sometimes life just happens that way. As long as you're extra careful, you should be okay.”
“I know. It's just...people keep dying around me. Old man Henson, now Pete.”
“Henson?” Emerson stopped pacing and glanced at her.
Theron sat forward in the chair, hands clasped loosely over the edge of his knees.
“Yes. The Sheriff came to see me early this morning before I went to work. Said Henson was trying to save someone during the tornado and died.” Even saying the words felt surreal to Farris. It reminded her that her life was about to change—again.
Emerson looked flabbergasted. “So what are you gonna do?”
“Who is Henson?” Theron asked.
“Her landlord,” Beelah replied.
“I don't know yet. I figure I have a few days at least until the Sheriff tells me I have to move out.” Overwhelmed, Farris rested her head on the bed. She stared at the light on the ceiling. The last thing she wanted to think about was finding some place new to live right this second.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about that.
Moving all her things out of the loft was going to be a chore, too, what with the busted staircase.
“Okay kiddos. The doctor's coming in. You can go wait in the waiting room,” the nurse said when she returned. She shooed Bee, Emerson and Theron out after a round of well wishes and See you laters.
Farris watched them go. Although she hadn't known Emerson all that long, she was glad he was here.
Chapter Eleven
Emerson stood in front of a vending machine, elbow to elbow with Theron. Beelah was in the waiting room with her parents while the boys got drinks.
“So what are the chances that her grandmother knew about this?” Theron asked.
“None. It's a coincidence,” Emerson insisted. He slid four quarters into the machine and punched out a bottle of chilled water. Not a big believer in coincidence of this nature, he couldn't get rid of his frown.
Or his concern.
“Seems awfully...well let's just say I don't believe in coincidence like that. If Farris knew you were the one who conjured the tornado and the fire--”
“Well, she's not going to know.” Emerson cut Theron off.
After Theron snagged a can of soda, they headed out into the hallways toward the waiting room.
“I'm just saying, it's better she hear it from you than anyone else,” Theron said. He popped the top on his can. It snapped and hissed.
“She's not going to hear it from anyone. Devon asked me to call up the tornado, to target Beelah. She asked me to set the fire. This other thing—it was just one of those weird coincidences.” Emerson cracked the cap off the water.
Theron knocked his hand against Emerson's stomach to stop him from walking and faced him. “Look, brother. I know you. I know how this works. You're questioning that explosion as much as I am. You didn't get the job done, man. It could be that Devon got someone else to do it.”
Emerson tipped his head back and poured a stream of cold water down his throat. Theron was right. That was exactly what he was thinking. Swallowing the mouthfuls, he smeared the back of his hand across his mouth and met Theron's eyes.
“That's one possible scenario, sure. Do I think Devon did that? Probably not. You know as well as I do that outside influence can sometimes change someone's Destiny. Maybe that's why I'm here. To change Farris' Destiny. Maybe I was supposed to actually save her, no matter what I was doing there in the first place.” If he was honest, Farris finding out that he'd had a hand in the beginning bothered him more than he wanted to admit. She would never forgive him.
Who could blame her.
“And what about odds? The odds of that blast going off after two near misses are way high, Emerson. You seem to like this girl. I think it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her, just in case. If it's her time, then it's her time and there's nothing you can do. If your theor
y is correct, then yeah, maybe you can spare her. Rare, but it happens. Just keep an eye out.” Theron poked him in the chest with his finger around the can of soda and started walking again.
Emerson didn't like the odds any more than he liked the coincidence. Pacing alongside Theron, he fought with himself over how to stay close to Farris until her birthday and not seem overbearing.
Coming up on the waiting room, Emerson saw Beelah pacing in front of the seats. Her parents were gone.
“What's going on?” he asked.
Beelah pushed her glasses up on her nose and turned to face Emerson.
“They're going to release Farris shortly. The doctor said the scans on her head came back fine and told her if she feels any different to call them. She wants to go to the farmhouse instead of home with me, so I'll stay with her. I don't think it's a good idea for her to be alone right now.”
“I can drive her out there, Beelah. I don't mind. It's unlikely that I'll get any sleep tonight anyway. I can work on the stairs to her loft or something,” Emerson said. It gave him a perfect excuse to keep an eye on her and keep busy at the same time.
“I'll help,” Theron offered.
Beelah glanced between them and hugged her arms around her middle. She looked indecisive. Gnawing the inside of her lip, Beelah rocked back and forth while she considered it.
“Why don't we all go? That way, I can watch her inside while you're doing—whatever you're going to do outside.”
Emerson finished off the last of his water and chucked the bottle into the trash.
“Sounds fine with me. You think she'll mind us going?” Emerson didn't care if Farris liked it or not. His inner warning system was still clanging out alarms and whether she agreed or didn't, he planned to keep an eye on the farmhouse all night long.
“I don't know. She just really wants to go home though.” Beelah, scratched and scraped as bad as the boys, smiled a shaky smile. “Thanks for helping me earlier.”
“Hey, of course. We wouldn't leave you there.” Emerson patted her shoulder in a brotherly way. “Let's go get Farris and go home.”
. . .
The sudden flicker of candle flame on Devon's desk alerted her that she was no longer alone. Looking up from the newest Destiny she was working on, she saw Audrinne standing near the pedestal in the middle of the room.
Audrinne, the former Fate of Chaos and now her mentor, was an imposing figure. Which was a feat considering she only stood five feet tall. The layers of her blonde hair had been coiffed into swirls and curls, held in place by black glittery pins. A long coat with a snug mandarin collar around her throat covered whatever clothing she wore beneath. Black, surely, because that was a theme with the Fates of Chaos. Fey and calm, Audrinne nevertheless exuded an enticing sense of chaos even when she was still and silent. Although she had been Turned at eighteen, like the rest of the Fates, there was a maturity to her youthful appearance that made her seem wise beyond her years.
Staring intently, as if she could see beneath Devon's layers of deception, Audrinne cupped her hands over a turquoise glass ball atop her staff. The ebony staff was carved to look like a skinny raven, with a claw at the bottom and another claw cupping the glass ball. In between, life-like feathers wrapped the staff and two gold eyes peered out at the world.
Devon set her pen down and half turned in the seat.
“Hi. I didn't expect to see you here today,” Devon said. Even though Audrinne owned Chaos Manor, she rarely made an appearance these days. In the beginning, right after the Turning, Audrinne hadn't left her side. Those had been frightening, bewildering days for Devon; Audrinne helped her through, taught her the ways of her new life.
“I thought I would check on your progress,” Audrinne said. She took a few steps closer to the desk. “How are you faring?”
“I'm good, Audrinne. Really good. It's flowing well. The stories, I mean.” She gestured to the current pile she was working on.
Audrinne glanced over the stacks and sheets of parchment without touching them. Her eyes, a pale green, didn't miss a thing.
“Are there any Destinies, any scenes of Chaos that you need help with? Ones that trouble you?” she asked.
“Mm, no. Nothing. I haven't had any problems at all.” The sole of Devon's boot squeaked on the cement when she shifted in her chair. “In fact, I think I'm ready to learn more. You haven't shown me what to do with the pedestal, yet.”
In the center of the room, the pedestal stood unused.
Audrinne cut Devon a look out of the corner of her eyes. “You are not nearly ready for that. The power associated with rituals on the pedestal are beyond your ability. Besides, we only use it in the most dire circumstances. In another five, maybe seven years, I will teach you what you need to know. Have you been reading the books?”
“Every night. They're fascinating.” The Books of Chaos outlined every detail of a Fate's duties, all the spells, and explained at great length the delicate balance the Fate of Chaos was required to keep with The Fates of Destiny and the Weavers of Chaos. It was what had spawned Devon's idea of wiping out the up and coming Fate of Destiny before the Turning, so she could insert a Fate of Chaos in her place.
The balance of power needed to shift.
“Will I ever get to meet the Queen of Fate?” Devon blurted, interrupting Audrinne. The Queen of Fate was the supreme ruler of all Fates. Revered for her utter power, Marintine, as she was called, existed now only in legend.
Audrinne's eyes widened a fraction. “If Marintine were to ever appear here, Devon, it would not be a pleasant meeting.”
“But why? She has so much power. Why isn't she out here making the most of it?” Devon just didn't understand. To have that gift would be...well. Beyond awesome.
“She is not here because she does not need to be here. Myself, and now you, along with the Fates of Destiny, make it so Marintine can enjoy her much deserved exile.”
“Have you ever met her?” Devon asked.
“I have not. I have no desire to, because I know things would go poorly if I ever did. One day, Devon, in the very distant future, you will understand why. Being the Fate of Chaos can be an exhausting task. You are still young and vibrant, and although you will never change from how you are now, the years and wisdom and experience you gain will eventually take their toll. One day, you will be ready to pass your duties down to another, as I have to you.”
Devon had her doubts. She controlled people's Destiny. She decided whether—and when—they lived or died. How much Chaos and what kind shaped their lives. It was thrilling, exciting, and challenging.
“How many Fates of Chaos have there been?” she asked.
“You are only the third to ever take the position. Think about that for a minute, Devon. Only the third Fate of Chaos. Your journey will be long, and sometimes, the task is more daunting than it seems in the beginning.”
Audrinne had cautioned her about this many times when Devon first turned. The trials, that the job was a huge responsibility, that the balance had to be kept even.
“So someday, I'll become like you? I'll have to be a mentor for another Fate of Chaos to take my place?” The idea seemed far off, almost impossible to Devon. She was just getting her feet wet. Had so many plans.
“Not for thousands of years. You have a very long time to adjust.” Audrinne gestured with one hand toward the stories. “If you have any questions, you know how to summon me. Keep reading the books, keep memorizing the rituals. Knowledge is power, remember that.”
Devon struggled to contain her glee. Thousands of years. She'd heard this before, of course. Every reminder only cemented the plans she'd set in place to do away with Farris Landry and put a Fate of Chaos in her stead.
“I'll keep reading and learning, Audrinne, I promise. And if I need anything, I know exactly how to reach you.” Devon smiled.
Audrinne studied her, then inclined her head. “Very well. I'll leave you to your work then.”
“Thanks for coming by.”
/> Audrinne turned away from the desk. The air rippled, shimmered, and swallowed the former Fate of Chaos whole.
Only when Devon knew Audrinne was truly gone did she shuffle through the Destinies for Farris'. By now, Rowley should have had time to do his job. Anticipating the end of Farris, she scanned the last page.
It didn't take long for her to realize Farris had escaped another attempt on her life. Frustrated, Devon smacked the papers on the desk and glared at the wall.
How did she continue surviving the catastrophes?
It was starting to annoy her.
Devon picked up her pen and leaned over her current Destiny.
She would give Rowley until noon to get rid of Farris or be forced to take more drastic action.
Time was running out.
Chapter Twelve
“What's wrong?” Farris asked when Emerson stopped the truck in the driveway leading to the farmhouse. Beelah and Theron were in Emerson's Charger behind them.
Emerson, gripping the wheel with both hands, stared out the windshield at the dark house. The moon illuminated the peaks of the roof and spilled down onto the ground, lending the property a brooding appearance. The garage stood behind the home, windows dark, the staircase collapsed along the side.
Farris, stitched and bandaged, read the tension in Emerson's shoulders and arms. He seemed...hesitant. Which struck her as odd.
He thinned his lips, sat back in the seat and pulled forward toward the porch.
“Nothing, nothing. It's just been a really weird few days,” Emerson said.
Farris couldn't argue with that. She plucked at the ruined edge of her red scarf and brushed ineffectually at the grease and burn streaks on the side of her uniform. She'd had no other clothes to change into at the hospital when they released her.
“You don't have to stay, you know. To work on the stairs. I mean, it's like two or three in the morning.” Farris didn't think she would get any sleep tonight anyway.
Henson was gone, the Rocket was gone and now the diner was gone. Her grandmother had insisted her life was in danger and she couldn't get the uneasy feeling out of her stomach.
The Fate of Destiny (Fates #1) Page 11
