The Fate of Destiny (Fates #1) (25 page)

After the last syllable fell from her lips, Devon cradled the book in one arm and reached for the matches with the other. With a little finagling, she got the match lit and tossed it atop the map in the pedestal.

Immediately it caught fire. Flame erupted in a gout of red-orange and consumed the entire map in less than sixty seconds. Devon watched the thing burn, intoxicated by her ability to do these kinds of things.

The next ritual would take her a little longer to set up. Not much, but enough.

Riddled with glee, she walked the book back to the desk and set it down.

One more to go.

. . .

Emerson arrived in Newcastle the same way he'd left. Emerging from thick shadows under an oak tree, he broke into a run. The last place he'd seen Farris was Newcastle Avenue, the main thoroughfare through town. It took him less than five minutes to navigate the back alleys of the businesses and reach the center of town. He had no idea where to look first. The diner was closed, so she wouldn't be there. Same with what remained of the Rocket.

He kept his eyes peeled for Theron, too, while he jogged along the front of a long line of shops. Several people came and went from the businesses and he didn't waste the opportunity to ask them if they had seen Farris. The town was so small that everyone knew everyone else.

No one had seen her.

Ignoring the curious, questioning glances, Emerson moved on. He was just about to go into a bakery and inquire when a car pulled to the curb at his side. The convertible Mercedes, white with silver accents, belonged to none other than Larissa Miller. She sat behind the wheel with sunglasses covering her eyes and a small, flesh covered bandage across her brow from the accident at the Diner.

“
Well, look who it is. Emerson,” she said, flashing him a smile.

Emerson stepped to the curb and rested his hands on the door. He cut right to the chase, foregoing greetings and niceties. “Have you seen Farris?”

Larissa pouted, a faint moue of her lips, before she recovered. “Actually, I heard she's on her way to my place with some friends. You know, to help decorate for tomorrow. Are you coming out like you promised?”

Emerson forgot all about decorating and Halloween. But if that was where he could find Farris, then that's where he needed to be.

“
Yeah, yeah. I was planning on coming out. Hey, can you give me a ride? Is that where you're going now?” Emerson slid over the car door and into the passenger seat without invitation. He didn't want to waste more time than he already had.

Larissa arched her brows. “Well, I was going to make a couple stops first. I need to run by Daddy's office and grab a--”

“
No, hey. Why don't we just go out to your place now? We can run in later and do errands.” Emerson knew Larissa had a thing for him. He wasn't blind to the looks and flirting she'd done so far. Draping his arm across the back of the seat, he smiled, using whatever charm he possessed to try and sway her.

It must have worked. At least to some degree.

“
...you want to come in with me later to run errands? I mean, I know Daddy would love to meet you.”

“
Sure, sure. I'm anxious to see where we're having this party, anyway.” He widened his smile and winked.

Larissa smiled, too, and shivered with either excitement or anticipation. “All right then, let's go.”

“
Excellent.”

Pulling away from the curb, Larissa got them on the road. Emerson tried not to fidget or look impatient. He wondered just how far out of town Larissa and her family lived.

“
So, you should tell me about yourself. Do you play sports, go to college? What are you majoring in?” she asked.

“
Nah, never went to college and I don't play sports.” He did, but not in any professional capacity. “Not much to tell, really.”

Larissa turned onto Blythe Road and opened the engine up. The Mercedes purred along, putting downtown Newcastle behind them. “Oh come on. There has to be a whole life you're not talking about here. Brothers, sisters...?”

“
No brothers or sisters. My folks died when I was young. I'm telling you—there's nothing really spectacular about my life.” Emerson ran a hand through his hair. What he told her hadn't been a lie, exactly. He didn't have any brothers or sisters
that he knew about.
His parents, according to Driscoll,
had
perished when he was two. It was like that with all the Weavers of Chaos. Emerson preferred not to know if his parents had been killed off intentionally, as an act of the Fates, so that children like him wouldn't have anything to go back to when they were old enough to understand what was going on.

This was his life,
had
been his life for a long time, and he preferred it that way.

Larissa cast him a quick glance that he caught when he looked across the car to see her reaction. He detected vague disappointment, probably because he wasn't a sports star with big family connections, on his way to a promising life as a doctor, lawyer or celebrity. The look changed as she found the road with her eyes; determination replaced the disappointment and there was something undeniably fond in her voice when she spoke next.

“
So you're the rebel type. A devil-may-care rogue kind of like James Dean. Yeah, I think it fits you.” By the time she was done with her reassessment, she was smiling.

Emerson hadn't ever considered himself a rogue, but for those who didn't understand the Chaotic ways of a Weaver, it could be easily misconstrued.

He ran with it. Why not?

“
I guess so.”

“
What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“
I'm a mechanic.”

“
You own your own business?”

“
Nah. I move around a lot. You know, like devil-may-care rogues are wont to do.” He almost snorted at the cheesy line. Theron would have never let him live it down if he'd heard.

Larissa seemed to
love
it. Her laughter trilled over the smooth roll of the engine. She flipped a long length of silver-blonde hair over her shoulder, the way girls do when they think it'll impress a boy.

Emerson just wanted to get to her house. Pronto.

The faster the better.

Several large, impressive houses dotted the landscape, the kind of homesteads that could only belong to the affluent. Many acres separated each one, giving a feeling of privacy along with wealth. These were newer construction, with pristine paint or brick and manicured lawns segregated from the rest of the property. Expensive cars sat in some of the long, curving driveways and in one instance, it appeared there was a guest house or an in-law suite set apart from the main residence.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Larissa slowed the Mercedes down and turned into the extended driveway that belonged to that particular house. A big barn and several other outbuildings could be seen beyond the two story, colonial style structure. Columns lined a broad, wrap around porch decorated with iron benches and hanging plants.

“
That's my house over there,” Larissa said, pointing to the guest house. It looked like it sat on its own five or six acres.

“
Your house?” Emerson didn't necessarily care if it was her house or what. His attention was on the barn where the decorating was supposed to be happening. There were no cars out there near a large sliding door that had been left open for preparations. Maybe Farris and Beelah were inside, dropped off by someone else.

“
Yeah. Daddy built it for me in my junior year, said I could move in when I graduated. I got to pick all the tile, wallpaper and paint. It's really cool. My future husband and I will have it
made.
At least until we get married and get something bigger.” Larissa, sounding smug, slowed the Mercedes near the barn.

“
Mm,” Emerson said, noncommittal. Were they really talking about tile and paint right now? Before the car could come to a full stop, he launched himself out of the seat and over the side of the door. Landing with a thump of boots on the ground, he stalked toward the gaping hole leading into the barn. “Farris! You here?”

“
Wait, Emerson!” Larissa huffed, exasperated, and put the Mercedes in park. After shutting down the engine, she got out with a bit more aplomb and followed.

Hay bales sat scattered close to the walls, as if someone had started dragging things in but got distracted before they could finish. It was a large barn, with two different ladders leading up to a loft where a lot more hay was stored. Everything else that might have been in the barn before had been moved out, leaving the concrete floor barren for Halloween decorations and a dance floor. The walls were finished off, the construction newer instead of older.

Farris and Beelah were nowhere in sight. In fact—
no one
else was there.

He twisted a look back at Larissa. “Where are they? You said they'd be here.”

“
I said they were
on their way,”
she corrected. Brushing past, she slanted a coy look up into his eyes as she sank into the shade of the barn. “We can find something to do in the meantime until the rest of them get here, can't we?”

Emerson ground his teeth when he realized what she was up to. Larissa knew the whole time that none of the other people would be here before them. She thought she could lure him into the shadows for a few kisses, work her charm out of the public eye.

He stepped right up to her, towering over her much shorter frame.

“
How long until they get here?”

“
I don't know. Does it matter--” Just as she set her palms on his chest, staring up into his eyes, Emerson cut her off.

“
Of course it matters.” He let her hear his displeasure. Emerson wasn't sure when Farris and Beelah would arrive—it could be hours—and he didn't have time to wait. Anything could happen between now and then.

Like death.

Wrenching himself away from Larissa, he stalked out of the barn. She tugged at his elbow in protest.

“
Emerson, wait! Don't you want to be out here with me? It's just us until the rest of them get here.”

He yanked his arm out of her grasp. Taking a few jogging steps toward her car, he vaulted the driver's door and slid down into the seat. Her keys were still in the ignition. He would have preferred traveling in the same manner he did to get to Driscoll's castle; flaunting that in front of Larissa wasn't wise, however, so he had to resort to usual means of transportation.

It was frustrating and time consuming.

“
What do you think you're doing?” Larissa demanded, stalking toward the Mercedes in his wake. She looked irritated at being shrugged off.

The engine growled to life. Emerson scowled at her, put the car in reverse, and backed out much faster than she'd driven in. Over the motor he could hear Larissa shouting for him to stop.

Flipping the front end around, he jolted forward, aggravated at this unexpected detour. If anything happened to Farris, he was going to extract his revenge out of Larissa's hide.

Devon's little threatening whispers filtered through his mind as the car picked up speed. How she'd said she would make a girl fall in love with him, hoping to hurt his heart.

He had news for Devon. Larissa wasn't his type. However, Devon's ploy managed to divert him from his task and for that, he would never forgive her.

Pushing the Mercedes to its limit on the straightaway, he headed for the only place he could think to start looking for Farris besides town: Henson's farm.

Chapter Twenty

Farris peered around the corn stalk toward the farmhouse. This particular field of corn butted up against the road—or close to it—which gave the girls a little bit of cover. She judged the distance to the front door to be about forty-five yards, far enough to allow any wild dogs time to burst from the corn field in another direction and get them before she and Bee could get inside.

So far, they hadn't heard or seen the pack. No howls echoed through the day, no barks or rustling through the stalks.

“
Think they're gone?” Beelah asked behind her.

Farris scanned the far field of corn, out past the damaged garage. That was roughly the place the dogs had come from before.

“
I can't tell. They might know we're here and are waiting for us to get away from the road. But I don't hear anything--”

“
Me either. And I've been listening for the last half mile,” Bee added.

Farris knew she wasn't the only one still shaken up from the accident. Beelah had been eerily quiet during the walk. Although neither one of them suffered cuts or broken bones, Farris' body protested the constant motion with aches and shooting pains that would likely double by tomorrow.

They might feel like they were
hit
by a truck, come morning.

“
The longer we stand here and wait, the more we risk them catching our scent. If they're still around.” Farris surveyed the area one more time. “You ready? When we go, we need to
go.”

“
My legs feel like they're full of lead. But I'm—wait, what was that?”

Farris tensed and listened closer. “What did you hear?” she whispered.

“
I'm not sure,” Bee whispered back.