The Fate of Destiny (Fates #1) (28 page)

Beelah must have felt it too. She hovered protectively close, nudging up the glasses on her nose.

Emerson let go of the island and locked his hands behind his head, elbows askew. The wet shirt stretched across his muscular chest and around his biceps, enhancing his physique. She noticed it in the way a woman does when she's distracted by other things—distantly.

“
I'm a Weaver of Chaos. Rather than go into a huge, in depth explanation—let me just say that I can control many aspects of nature. Of weather. If you saw what happened outside, then you understand a little of what I'm telling you.”

Farris tried to absorb that. It made sense, and it didn't.

“
How did you become this...thing?” she asked.

He tipped his head back while he paced and stared at the ceiling. “It's a really long story. I can tell you all about it later, when I'm sure you're both...safe.”

“
Safe?” Farris and Beelah spoke over each other.

Emerson dropped his arms but kept pacing. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his damp jeans and glanced out the windows when he passed them.

“
Yeah. Safe. You weren't that far off thinking something was going on, Farris. You're being targeted.”

“
Targeted? By who?”

“
Why would anyone target me?” Farris jumped in after Beelah's questions. She was starting to get restless. Wanted to fidget. To give her fingers something to do, she released Beelah and plucked the wet edge of the scarf away from her throat. The end, already frayed, became more so when she picked at it.

Emerson exhaled. He seemed to pause, to think about his answer longer than he needed to.

“
Again, it's complicated. Suffice to say--”

“
Hey wait now. If this has to do with Farris' safety, you should tell us
everything,”
Beelah demanded.

“
I can't tell you everything. Not right now.”

“
Why not?” Beelah asked, frowning.

“
Because I just can't. You'll have a lot more answers in a few days. What I
can
tell you is that we need to be really cautious for the next twenty-four hours or so. Okay? Just trust me.” He glanced over and met each of their eyes, lingering on Farris longer.

“
I don't understand,” Farris finally said. “Why you? Why me? And what are you saying—that you can do magic, or that there are flying unicorns, and that Leprechauns are real?”

“
Don't take what you see in front of you, around you, for granted. There
are
things you don't understand, that you can't grasp because you've never been exposed to it. Not in obvious ways.”

“
So is that a yes?” Farris asked. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Magic, Chaos, Weavers?

“
I wouldn't call it magic, exactly. I
influence
changes. I can manifest storms--”

“
Tornadoes?” Beelah asked with an arch expression.

Farris gasped, glancing away from her friend to Emerson. He stopped pacing and faced them. A cold, uneasy feeling inched along her spine.

“
Yeah. Yeah, tornadoes. I'm responsible for the one that hit the Rocket.”

His confession had the same effect a nearby bomb drop would have. The concussion hit Farris hard. So hard she swayed on her feet. Beelah snatched her elbow to steady her and glared at Emerson.

“
You! Get out right now! I can't believe you're standing here admitting you did such a horrible thing,” Beelah shouted.

“
Wait, just wait--”

“
Get
out.”

“
Bee, we have to hear what he has to say. I...I need to know what's going on. We both do, so nothing bad happens. If he leaves, we won't have any answers. We may never have any answers.” And that would drive Farris crazier than her mother.

Beelah, huffing and puffing with fear and indignation, clapped the knife down on the counter. She hadn't brandished it or made any threatening gestures toward Emerson. Beelah really wasn't the stab-his-heart-out type anyway.

Farris looked expectantly at Emerson. Waiting for him to continue.

“
You've got a bullseye on your back, Farris. I was lied to in the beginning, told to conjure the tornado for different reasons. When I realized so many people would get hurt, I jumped in to help you and Beelah and whoever else I could.”

She remembered that night like it happened five minutes ago. How he'd hovered over her, staring down into her eyes, before hauling her up off the ground. He'd saved her that night—saved her many times since.

However, another uncomfortable thought struck.

“
Did you set the fire, Emerson?”

He pressed his lips together and stared at her from under the ridge of his brows. Emerson didn't have to say a thing. His actions spoke loud and clear.

Beelah made an agonized sound in the back of her throat. “This can't be happening. Seriously?”

“
So why? Why did you do it
again
when you knew we might die?” Farris asked.

“
I didn't know you were in the loft at the time. I
swear.
I was told you were at Beelah's house—and I'll be honest. I didn't want to do it.”

“
But what's the point? My stories are in there!” Farris came to the defense of her stories, too. They were as important to her as breathing. “And who told you to do it? Why do you follow such...such...insane orders?”

“
I can't explain that part. Not until the day after tomorrow.”

Farris, growing exasperated as well as fearful, gestured with one of her hands. A dismissive wave. “No, you don't get off that easy. You can't come in here, say all that, and not give us a solid reason for doing it.”

Emerson changed direction. He advanced on her with long steps, a muscle flexing in his jaw. Farris realized she wasn't afraid of Emerson—or what he might do. She was afraid of the unknown, of what he
wasn't
saying.

Grasping the outsides of her shoulders in a gentle but firm grip, he brought their faces closer.

“
You're going to have to trust me, Farris. Trust that I know what's going on and that I won't let anything happen to you. In the beginning I was oblivious—now, I'm not. But I can't tell you a few certain things. What I
can
tell you, is that we need to get out of here. He was doing something around the house and I'm not sure what. And he'll probably be back, too, because he knows how to open and close Rifts.”

Farris expected to feel some kind of jolt when he touched her. All she felt was the heat of his palms sinking into her skin through the sleeves of her shirt. No magic, no electric buzz. She still wasn't sure she believed in magic—in any of this—anyway. It was a lot to take in.

From the front of the house, someone banged on the front door, startling all three of them. Emerson thrust Farris behind him and tugged on Beelah's arm to encourage her to do the same.

“
You both stay put, no matter what you hear, got that?” Emerson said over his shoulder.

“
I'm not staying behind.” Through all the confusion, Farris knew one thing: she needed to see everything that went on. Needed to see whatever happened so she could better accept the strangeness around her.

“
Me either,” Bee added.

Emerson grumbled and led the way through the house. He rubbed his hands together, as if collecting heat or static, and flung the front door open with aggression.

Theron stood on the other side of the screen, soaked to the skin.

“
Hey man. Glad you're here. We're just leaving,” Emerson said, stepping aside to gesture the girls to the porch.

“
Where are you going?” Theron asked, giving the girls a quick once over after they filed out onto the porch.

“
I told them.”

“
Told them what?” Theron asked, shaking water from his hair.

“
What I am.”

Theron paused, then glanced from Emerson to the girls.

“
Are you one, too? The...Weaver?” Beelah asked. She folded her arms protectively over her ribs.

Theron gave Emerson an unhappy, chiding look. But he didn't duck the truth. “Yeah. I am. Emerson's not supposed to be telling you this.”

“
I don't want to go in the car,” Farris said, interrupting the disturbing conversation about Weavers of Chaos. She felt like she was on overload as it was, and the closer they got to the Charger, the more it freaked her out. After the Chevy incident, Farris didn't trust any vehicle.

“
Why not?” Emerson and Theron asked at the same time.

“
Because something happened in the Chevy,” Beelah said. Her teeth started chattering.

“
What happened?” Emerson's gaze sharpened on Farris.

She shifted on her feet, feeling the weight of Emerson and Theron's glances. “We're not sure exactly what happened. But I think that guy was there. The one you fought with?”

“
Rowley,” Theron supplied.

“
Whoever. I think he was there.”

“
What happened to the Chevy?” Emerson asked again.

“
I couldn't control it. It sped up and the brakes wouldn't work, nothing worked, and we ran off the road into a ditch.” Farris left out the part where Beelah grabbed the wheel.

“
So it's stranded on the side of the road somewhere?” Emerson asked, as if he doubted that was all there was to the story.

“
We flipped. Like three times. We flipped over, but we didn't get hurt. Other than muscles aching and feeling like a rag doll, we didn't get cuts or bruises or broken bones,” Beelah replied.

Emerson and Theron exchanged a long look.

Farris couldn't tell what they were thinking. What the look meant. So of course, she asked.

“
What?”

Emerson thrust a hand through his hair. “You're lucky to be alive, that's what.”

“
Why don't you want to stay here, Emerson? This is probably where you're safest right now,” Theron said.

“
Rowley showed up,” Emerson said, answering before anyone else could. “We got into a fight. I opened a Rift and locked him out. At least for now. It won't last. I'm pretty sure he was trying to do something to the house. Maybe another gas leak.”

“
He's gonna be looking for revenge when he finds you again,” Theron pointed out.

“
No kidding,” Emerson muttered.

“
I can Clean the house. Get rid of whatever nefarious plot he was conjuring,” Theron said.

“
What does that mean? Clean the house?” Farris asked. A headache started to build behind her eyes. She felt sleepy and hyper at the same time. She was also confused, unable to sort through all the details and information with any degree of success.

“
He can suck up the energy, is what he means,” Emerson explained. “Like a sponge. Then he has to get rid of it, which will leave him pretty drained for seven or eight hours. Are you sure you don't want to go in the car? I still think getting away from here is the best idea.”

“
Can you do that, too?” Farris asked Emerson of the 'cleaning'. “I can't get in the car right now. Not after the accident earlier.”

“
I can, but I won't. That leaves me pretty useless and you and Beelah vulnerable.” Emerson scanned the yard in front of the farmhouse, as if trying to make a decision. Finally, he said, “All right. Theron, Clean the house. We'll hole up here for the night and hope that Rowley doesn't come back to finish what he started.”

. . .

Darkness fell, cloaking the land in shadow. Running on autopilot, Farris foraged for food in the kitchen with Bee and made them all an unexciting meal of stew and biscuits. It was hot, however, and filling, and she ate the whole bowl. Silence had descended between the four of them after Theron had 'cleaned' the house, an event that seemed innocuous and mysterious.

When he was through, she saw the toll it took on him in the ghastly hue of his skin and the sunken appearance around his eyes. Carbon monoxide, he'd said, was the hidden danger Rowley had exposed the girls to. Assured the problem was fixed, they ate without speaking, utensils clinking against ceramic.

One by one, they each took turns showering and changing. Farris rummaged clothes for the men from Henson's closet while they all utilized the washer and dryer on the first floor.

By the time midnight rolled around, Theron and Emerson were in their original clothing instead of the ill fitting garments of the slim farmer.

Beelah had borrowed a sage green sweater and jeans from Farris, while Farris chose a burgundy sweater with a high neck and black denim. The domestic chores of cooking, washing dishes, showering and cleaning clothes had a calming effect on Farris, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath. Her mind shut down of its own accord, refusing to cycle through another round of questions and answers.

Emerson insisted they all huddle in the main living room around a low fire he built in the grate. One lone candle sat on the coffee table, the only other source of light in the house. Gathering blankets and pillows, they settled in to wait.

Beelah was the first to fall asleep.

Theron went next, leaning against a bean bag with his pillow on his lap.