The Fate of Destiny (Fates #1)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Creatures so frightening that Devon had nightmares for a week.

  She didn't need that today. Nothing so devastating and scary.

  What she needed was something that could slink in and slink out of Farris' life without anyone being the wiser.

  If Rowley failed, if the Weavers of Chaos could not complete the challenge she'd set before them, then she would turn to this. It shouldn't be difficult to release whatever she chose into the wild and then contain them when they were through.

  Which one, though? What was the best way of dealing with Farris Landry that would pose the least risk to the town of Newcastle and its citizens?

  Devon flipped through the dusty pages, looking for a clue. Every now and then she glanced through the subterranean room to make sure Audrinne hadn't crept up behind her.

  She could only imagine what kind of trouble she would get into if Audrinne caught her in the act.

  . . .

  “She's out for blood,” Emerson whispered to Theron once they were in the other room. “The thing that infuriates me is that I don't know how to get a hold of Devon—or Audrinne for that matter—without going to Driscoll first.”

  “Yeah, and you better be sure that what you're accusing Devon of is the truth, or it could backlash on you bad.” Theron rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.

  Emerson glanced through the dark living area, and though he couldn't see much, there was enough moonlight to discern that the girls weren't nearby.

  “I know Devon is involved. She had something to do with this tonight. The question is—who did she get to help her if it wasn't you or I? She doesn't know every Weaver, not by a long shot, and more than half wouldn't want to risk Driscoll's fury if the plans went too far awry.”

  “What I want to know is why Farris? I mean, I've never seen Audrinne take such a personal interest in a Destiny before. Not that I know everything about how it all works.” Theron ignored the bleeding scrapes on his arm and checked the lock on the window they stood next to.

  “Same here. If they go out and get personally involved in certain people's fate...well I've never heard of it.” Emerson found a wooden dowel in the sill to jam vertically between the window and the window frame. That would help keep anyone trying to get in, out. At least for a while.

  They moved into the next room and secured that window, too. Emerson scanned the landscape beyond the window for signs of the wild dogs. So far he couldn't see or hear them, but didn't think for a minute that the dogs had disappeared.

  “Maybe you should tell her,” Theron said.

  “Tell who what?”

  “Farris. That you think someone's out to hurt her.”

  Emerson stopped and turned back to Theron on his way out of the room. “Are you crazy?”

  “Not the last time I checked.” Theron shrugged his shoulders. “At least she wouldn't think she's crazy, like she probably does right now.”

  “There is no way I can tell her. Then she'll want to know how I know, and I can't tell her what I am. What we are. She wouldn't believe it and it's against the rules. Driscoll really would have my head.” Emerson, disturbed by the idea of Farris finding out he was a Weaver—that he was responsible for some of the terror she'd experienced—led Theron into the kitchen and double checked all the locks. He could hear the girls coming this way from the direction of the stairs.

  “She seems cool. Like the type of girl who can keep a secret.”

  “Theron...”

  “I'm just saying, man. You should think about it. You'll take it harder if she really does die,” Theron pointed out.

  Emerson scowled and lowered his voice even more. The girls were closer.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I'm not blind. I see the way you look at her.”

  “I look at a lot of girls.”

  “Not like that you don't. And you sure don't step up to protect them from something like Chaos.”

  Emerson thinned his lips. Theron knew him too well.

  “I can't tell her.”

  “You should think about it. Harder.”

  “Would you tell a girl about you? I don't think so,” Emerson said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  “I might if I didn't want her to die.”

  “Hey guys. We found eight candles and three flashlights.” Beelah, followed by Farris, interrupted their conversation.

  Emerson glared at Theron, a clear warning, then faced the girls. Each held a squat candle in a glass holder. The flame cast their features into half light, half shadow.

  “Good job. Why don't we put one in each room downstairs?” Emerson took two flashlights from Bee and handed one to Theron.

  Theron accepted it and turned it on.

  “What about up there?” Bee asked, pointing toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

  “I don't think we need them. If you girls try and get some rest, I wouldn't suggest you stay up there. Stay down here in the living room closer to us.” Emerson didn't turn his flashlight on. Right now, he didn't need it.

  Beelah set her candle on the kitchen table. “I don't think I could sleep after all that.”

  “Me either. What if they come back? And where did they go? Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?” Farris asked. One arm hugged around her middle, the other held the candle high enough to see by.

  “I don't know where they went. I don't think they're gone, though. We can't risk leaving here until daybreak,” Emerson said.

  As if to prove his point, a menacing howl split the night beyond the windows.

  Farris and Bee huddled close together.

  “Are they going to try and smash in the windows?” Bee asked, face ashen, brows pinched together.

  “I doubt it. C'mon though. Let's go back into the living room. There is only about an hour or so left until the sun comes up.” Emerson herded the girls out of the kitchen into the living room.

  Although they denied being able to sleep, Farris and Beelah both went out like proverbial lights after ten minutes of sitting on the couch.

  Emerson and Theron each took half of the downstairs to patrol while they waited for sunrise.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devon paced around the Altar of Chaos with the Book of Chaos open between her hands. For an hour she had perused a list of predators not of the natural world. She had also read the warnings. None of the rituals or summonings came without a price.

  Especially the summonings. Some of the warnings were so severe, so scary, that by the time dawn broke the horizon, Devon wasn't sure she had the nerve to actually follow through with her plan to call them forth to help her. Control of nether beasts was tenuous and risky at best.

  If Rowley failed, however, she had little choice but to act. Today was the last full day to end Farris Landry's life. Tomorrow, on her birthday, Fate would step in and take the girl and there would be nothing Devon could do after that.

  Gnawing her lip, she pondered. Contemplated. Tried to figure out which route would be the best. The least deadly.

  What she really wanted, was to be in Newcastle. She wanted to be close to the action, to get a better idea of the general area. It might help her decide what to do if the time came for her to take things to the next level. Closing the book, she crossed the room and set it back on the shelf she'd taken it from.

  A moment later she stepped through the center of a rippling mirror, on her way to Oklahoma.

  . . .

  “Are you sure they're gone?” Farris asked. She stood next to Beelah near the front door while Emerson peered outside. The sun was still low on the horizon, throwing golden rays at a slant across the landscape.

  “I don't see anything. The front of the house is clear, at least. We can make it to the truck or the Charger.” He glanced back at the girls, at Theron. “What do you think? We've got to get into town and let the Sheriff know there's a wild pack on the loose. If they get to another farm and kids are playing outside--”

  “Okay, check one more t
ime, then we'll make a run for it.” Farris could have used a shower and a change of clothes. None of them wanted to risk another attack on the way to the loft so she endured the dirty uniform and messy hair.

  Emerson scanned the driveway again. “It's clear. I'll hold the door. Make sure you have your keys out and run.”

  Beelah whimpered. She huddled right behind Farris.

  “We're ready,” Farris said.

  Emerson shoved the screen door open and blocked it with his body, leaving the way unhindered for the girls to dash to the truck.

  Farris, ignoring all her aches and pains, darted past him. She expected to hear a snarl any second, to feel the snap of teeth on her ankle. Behind her, panting in fear, Beelah raced after her. They fled down the stairs toward the truck, arms pumping.

  Knowing the door to the Chevy was already unlocked, she yanked it open and hopped inside. Beelah fell into the passenger seat a second later. Theron was right behind them, diving over Beelah's lap and the seat into the back.

  Emerson appeared at the driver's door. “Move over, Farris. Move, I'm driving.”

  She jammed the keys into the ignition and scooted to the middle of the bench seat. Emerson climbed in and slammed the door shut.

  Out of breath from the short run, Farris looked around the perimeter of the truck. No dogs rushed from the farmland or the trees. The pack seemed to be gone.

  Starting the engine, Emerson put the truck in gear and spun the tires when he tromped the gas. Fishtailing onto the road, he sped away from the farmhouse.

  “What are we going to tell the Sheriff?” Beelah asked. Her eyes were wide, fingers fidgeting in her lap.

  “Exactly what happened. There is a rabid pack of dogs loose out here,” Emerson said.

  “What about everything else?”

  “What do you mean?” Emerson glanced away from the road to Beelah.

  Farris looked between them, preferring to keep quiet and listen for now. She too wondered just how much they should tell the Sheriff. There was no denying that the entire incident had been...odd. Way out of the ordinary.

  Pretty much like everything that had happened the last two days.

  “Well. All of it. I mean, he knows about Henson--”

  “Henson doesn't have anything to do with this,” Emerson countered.

  “Doesn't he?” Beelah asked.

  “Why would you think so? He died trying to help someone out.”

  “But it happened while all this other stuff was going on. I think we should tell the Sheriff something weird is happening.”

  “He won't believe you if you tell him you think it's all connected somehow,” Emerson predicted.

  “They'll fall back on coincidence,” Theron added from the back seat.

  “Isn't that what it is though, when it comes down to it? Coincidence? Just a string of really messed up situations? It has to be. There isn't any other explanation.” Farris interjected. She wanted to believe it was so. Needed to think it was just one of those unexplained oddities and that things would get back to normal soon. In periphery, she saw Beelah snap a surprised look her way.

  “Farris. You know better than that. You know what your grand--”

  “Shhhh.” Farris tried to shush Beelah.

  “Yeah, what was it your grandmother said again?” Theron asked from the back seat.

  “Her grandma is convinced that something is going to happen. Remember? I told you at the hospital,” Beelah said.

  “There has to be something driving it. I know you said the nurses said she's starting to get senile, but where would she get the idea something would happen?” Emerson asked.

  “She said she remembered that a lady talked to Farris on the playground when she was little--”

  “Do we really need to rehash this? It didn't mean anything,” Farris said, more than a little freaked out. Her whole life was being put on display for a string of mishaps.

  More than just mishaps, she argued with herself.

  “Tell me,” Emerson said, encouraging Bee.

  “A lady told Farris that she would be coming for her when she was eighteen. Farris' Mom overheard her. I think that's why she went crazy. The lady scared Farris' Mom half to death. And then Farris started writing the stories, so...”

  “Beelah Bosley!” Farris covered her face with her hands. She couldn't believe her best friend just outed her like that.

  “So wait, your grandmother remembered and has been warning you about your birthday?” Emerson asked. “Who was the lady? Someone she knew?”

  “Yes.” Farris said, answering the first question. She couldn't recall the name her grandmother used for the lady in the park. Too much had happened and it had seemed so inconsequential at the time.

  “Merwen. That was it. Merwen,” Beelah piped up.

  Emerson stomped the brakes so hard it threw Farris and Beelah against the dashboard. Theron thumped the front seat from the back.

  “Give a brother some warning, man,” Theron grumped.

  “What?” Emerson roared.

  “I said, give a brother some--”

  “Not you.” Emerson glared over his shoulder at Theron, then fixed a hard stare on Farris.

  “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Farris complained, saved from a face full of dash after throwing her hands out to brace herself.

  “Emerson!” Beelah complained.

  “What was her name?” Emerson half turned in his seat. He ignored their admonishments like he always did. The truck sat cockeyed in the road, the scent of smoking rubber drifting up from the tires.

  “Merwen. Why?”

  “Oh sweet mother of all mothers,” Theron muttered from the back seat.

  Emerson whipped a look at Theron then back to the girls.

  “And it was this Merwen lady who said she was coming for Farris on her eighteenth birthday?” Emerson asked. Demanded was more like it.

  “Yes, yes! Merwen. What is the big deal? Why do you act like you know what that means?” Farris sat back in the seat and glared at Emerson. Just when she thought she could convince herself that all of this really was one gigantic coincidence, Emerson had to go and do that.

  Beelah peered around Farris to stare at Emerson, too.

  He stared right back, hands gripping the wheel so tight the leather squeaked.

  “What, what?” Farris asked. What was wrong with him?

  “I just think it makes a big difference when there is another person involved. You never mentioned this lady before,” Emerson finally said. He seemed to struggle to contain himself, to hold more words at bay.

  “She was little. A little girl. How does it matter?” Beelah asked.

  Emerson opened his mouth, then a moment later, snapped it shut.

  “It matters,” Theron said from the back seat. “Let's get to town so we can tell the Sheriff and go from there.”

  Emerson got on the gas and straightened the truck out on the road. He reached the speed limit, surpassed it, and pegged the needle out at seventy-five.

  “I think we should talk to your mom,” Emerson said.

  Farris almost fainted. “What?”

  “Your mom. We should go talk to her.”

  “We can't.” Farris' stomach started to ache.

  “Why not?”

  Silence.

  “Farris?”

  Beelah patted Farris' hand, then squeezed it.

  “Why can't we talk to your mom? Beelah mentioned she was crazy, but I'm sure that was a figure of speech,” he said.

  She didn't want to tell him. Admitting that her mother had been in an insane asylum for years was painful and humiliating. Beelah, because she knew how upset Farris got over her mother, kept silent.

  “Is she really crazy?” He glanced away from the road to the girls.

  “She's been in an insane asylum for a long time,” Farris finally said. There was no hiding it. No way to get around it. Admitting it to him, of all people, sat ill with her. It mattered what he thought. Mattered that he didn't judge
her according to her mother's state of mind. The barrier she'd built between herself and some of the cruel students at school (like Larissa) wasn't thick enough or strong enough to keep the pain of Emerson knowing away.

  And she just knew he wouldn't let it go. Not now, not after this.

  Emerson muttered under his breath. Then, “I'm sorry. I didn't think Beelah was serious.”

  “No, it's okay. You would have heard it from Larissa or someone else anyway.” Even saying Larissa's name left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “She can receive visitors though, right?” Emerson asked.

  Beelah gasped. “Emerson, you can't be serious.”

  “I'm deadly serious.”

  “Why is it so important? What's with the Merwen lady? What do you know that you're not telling us?” Farris asked, growing impatient with it all.

  “I'm trying to figure it out, but I need more information, Farris. Your mom might remember something critical that your grandmother doesn't recall.”

  “If I haven't figured it out after all this time, I doubt you will,” Farris said.

  “Don't be too sure.”

  . . .

  A swelling crowd of people clogged the main thoroughfare through town. Emerson had to pull over well before the police department building and park next to the curb. Agitated over the information Beelah and Farris imparted, he met Theron's eyes in the rear view mirror and got out with everyone else.

  It couldn't be a mistake that Merwen, of all people, had visited Farris when she was younger. The name was unusual enough that it could not be confused with another.

  The question was—why would Merwen do such a thing? According to Theron's puzzled expression, he couldn't figure it out either.

  “What's going on?” Beelah asked. Her uniform wasn't quite as dirty and wrecked as Farris', but she still brushed at it with self conscious strokes of her palms.

  “Looks like an impromptu town meeting,” Theron said.

  The Sheriff stood in the back of a truck so the crowd that had gathered could see him better.