The Three Fates of Ryan Love (14 page)

“Guiding me?” His voice was mellow, but his eyes had a sharp gleam.

“Most seers . . . all seers but me, actually. They can only view the future through their visions. I'm able to follow it. I'm able to picture what,
who
, I want to see and call a vision of it. Like changing a channel on the television. Once I do that, I can . . .” Her words felt thick, her throat tight.

“You can what?” he asked warily.

“Influence.”

“Influence,” he repeated softly.

His smile struck a chill deep inside Sabelle. She didn't trust that smile.

“You think you've been doing that to me?” he asked. “
Influencing
what I do? The choices I make?”

There was no mistaking the skepticism in his tone, though his smile remained friendly. She shouldn't have broached this topic.

She nodded. “You rarely listen, but I've tried.”

“When?” he demanded. “Specifically.”

He pushed the cart into an empty aisle that held paintbrushes, hammers, and other tools. Apparently not high-priority items for holiday shoppers.

Taking her shoulders between his hands, he looked into her face. She had to tip her head back to meet his gaze, but for once she was more concerned about what she'd seen in his eyes than what he might find in hers.

“You wanted to have your sister's new boyfriend arrested,” she said, remembering his frustration when Roxanne had told him that she was in love with Santo Castillo, a man who'd once been a reaper from the Beyond—­Sabelle didn't know what he was now. “It was me who made you reconsider.”

Hesitate was closer to the truth, but that's all it had taken, really. Once Ryan slowed down enough to think, he'd gone through the pros and cons, losses and benefits. It had seemed pretty obvious even to Ryan when he finished but Sabelle had nudged him, made him really think about what he planned to do.

“It was me, whispering in your ear. Reminding you that Roxanne is every bit as stubborn as you are. She wouldn't have ever forgiven you for your decision. I could see that future. You would have lost a piece of yourself as well as your sister.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared. She could see his mind working, analyzing turning points in his life.

She'd been watching Ryan since the first time his younger brother and sister had appeared in a vision. He'd fascinated her then; he fascinated her now. The moment Nadia told her Ryan would die because the Sisters wanted it so, she knew she would do whatever it took to stop it.

“I had to come in person. I have to believe this is what I'm destined to do.”

She took a deep breath, feeling so transparent that it hurt. But she'd started down this path and now she needed to see it through.

“When you found me in the parking lot,” she said, “you asked me why I screamed.”

He nodded, something new in his expression. Suspicion, most likely.

“I screamed because it was painful. It felt like I'd been ripped in two. It felt that way because that's what happened.” She sucked in another breath, knowing her explanation probably confused him more. She tried to be clearer. “I told you no one can see their own future and that's the truth, but not all of it. I can't see anyone's future now. My mind's eye is blind and I don't know what's supposed to happen next, what's supposed to happen to anyone. I feel . . . crippled without it.”

He studied her for a moment before slowly straightening and stepping close, invading her personal space without touching her. She wished he would. She
needed
his touch. She flattened her palms against his chest and tilted her head back to face whatever he intended to say.

He held her gaze and her fingers curled into his shirt. She came up on her toes as his hands slid over her hips. His kiss came with teeth that caught her lip in a tender nip. A shivery sigh escaped her.

“You're not crippled, snowflake,” he said gently. “You might be limping for a while, but you'll figure things out. You're strong. You're brave.” He kissed her again, this time just lips, soft against hers. “Have a little faith.”

“That's not so easy when I know what we're running from.”

“And here I thought we were running
to
something.”

“We are, at the same time.”

He smiled and rested his forehead against hers. “Guess we better get a running start, then.”

“But what if we're running in the wrong direction?” she asked, voicing the fear she'd been afraid to acknowledge from the start. With her mind's eye blinded, how could she be certain about anything?

“We'll find out faster.”

His answer surprised a laugh from her.

“Does this feel like the wrong direction, Sabelle?” he asked in a suddenly solemn voice.

“No.” How could it when she was here? With Ryan. Every bit as fascinated as she'd been from afar. For all her fear, some secret part of her felt relief, too. She didn't want to know how or when she would have to say good-bye to him. If she couldn't see it, she could cling to the possibility that it wouldn't happen, no matter how foolish it was.

At the register, Sabelle watched as Ryan unloaded her clothes and shoes, an assortment of toiletries, a new cell phone, jeans for him, shirts to go with them, and a pack of men's briefs in blue, red, and black. The bras and undies came next and Ryan slid her a hot look that she felt to her toes. His eyes were like a forest in shadow and Sabelle wanted to whisper,
Wait until you see them on.

As the machine beeped with each scan, a commotion started by the doors. The cashier looked over his shoulder as he hit the total button. Something had happened at the front of the store. Employees and an ancient security guard rushed to the section between the entrance and the snack bar.

“Must be a shoplifter,” the cashier mumbled.

But a bad feeling suddenly coalesced inside Sabelle. She turned a worried look to Ryan just as he took his change.

“We need to get out of here,” she said softly. “Now.”

He nodded, loaded up the bags, and started for the door. Sabelle grabbed the last one. As she lifted it, a small, lethal-looking scorpion raced up the side. She gasped and dropped the bag and a dozen more scuttled out from inside. They made an arc from the end of the checkout counter in a miniature, terrifying blockade.

The cashier jumped, bumping the register, and more scorpions rushed out. Shouting profanities, he hit the switch to make his light blink. “Manager, register six,” he yelled into his phone.

Ryan grabbed Sabelle's arm and took a step back, but the scorpions swarmed behind them, surrounding them completely while up ahead at the doors, people began to scream.

R
yan pulled Sabelle close, trying to calm down and not let the bugs freak him out. But it was hard. He could see them everywhere now. Climbing the walls, perched on the ceiling, scurrying across the walkways. People screamed throughout the store, pushing and shoving to escape, but there was no place to go where scorpions didn't already wait. Ryan had no idea where they'd all come from.

A clearing in the crowd spread at the front doors. From where Ryan stood he could see that the sliding-glass exits quivered with the jostling, stinging creatures. No one dared try to go through them.

Centered in the growing circle of terrified people stood a boy with dark skin, hair shaved short, and a Phoenix Suns sweatshirt. A woman who must be his mom hovered nearby clutching a younger version of the kid by one hand and holding a baby girl with a pink bow in her hair with the other. The woman was sobbing.

The boy shuffled awkwardly in the middle of the impromptu stage, his eyes enormous and his mouth open, but silent. His arms and legs seemed to be at weird angles, striking a bizarre memory in Ryan of an old GI Joe doll Reece had had once upon a time. Each joint moved on a ball and a determined kid could make them all rotate backward. That's what the boy looked like, disjointed, at odds. His arms were twisted so his palms were out, his fingers spread and cocked at the knuckles. He wobbled from one foot to another, ankles turned funny, knees knocking. He made a one-eighty and stopped, facing Ryan and Sabelle.

Ryan could have called it. This was about the Beyond and the sister who wanted Sabelle back.

The kid's mother kept sobbing his name over and over, leaning in toward her son, but two men held her back.

“Cardell, come here, baby. Cardell, brush them off,” she cried.

Cardell's eyes looked like pools of oil in an ivory pond. Even from a distance, Ryan could see the horror inside them. The kind that sealed the throat and paralyzed the mind. The kid was shaking with tremors that racked him at intervals as the scorpions scuttled across the floor, pushing the crowd farther back as they swarmed at Cardell's feet and covered his shoes. He didn't dance and stomp them. He didn't scream when they raced up his legs. The boy made a choking sound and a dark stain spread at the crotch of his jeans.

“
Cardell
,” his mother moaned.

The terror came off him in waves, but it didn't seem like he was even aware of the venomous bugs. No, what scared Cardell was coming from the inside.

Ryan took Sabelle's hand and together they stepped closer to the edge of the crowd pulsing around the kid. Cardell's desperate gaze tracked them.

“Cardell,” Ryan said, his voice sharp, hoping to jar the kid out of his catatonic state.

Ryan took another step forward and the scorpions skittered around him. He had to battle his phobia before he could move. It shamed him, but some things went deep. His revulsion and the memory of their stings had left a scar that he couldn't pretend didn't exist. And they were fucking everywhere.

“People,” the boy shouted suddenly, silencing everyone. “Die. People will die.”

Cardell's mother gasped and the crowd backed up even more. The kid sucked in air through labored breaths. Ryan found himself breathing deeply, as if his efforts would aid the boy. He stopped a few inches shy of the border the scorpions had made around Cardell. The ancient security guard told him to stay back, but it was obvious the old guy didn't plan to interfere.

Muttering a curse beneath his breath, Ryan dropped Sabelle's hand and stepped forward. The scorpions charged aggressively, their threat no less for their size—that many of them might even kill him. He jumped back quickly and they halted just shy of his shoes.

Tears spilled over Cardell's thick lashes and streamed down his face. He was shaking his head, his lips moving over a word he couldn't vocalize. He didn't need to. Ryan saw it.

Help.

“How?” Ryan asked softly. “How can I help?”

Cardell stared into his eyes. “Give. Her,” he shouted, veins sticking out on his neck. “Give, give, give.”

Ryan tried to move forward again. Two big striped scorpions came from nowhere and raced up Cardell's pant leg with incredible speed. They reached the rounded collar of his sweatshirt and slowed. Almost daintily, they inched onto his brown skin and struck their ninja poses on his jugular.

Something seemed to be moving on the back of each one. It took less than a second for Ryan to figure it out. Babies.

Ryan froze mid-step, hands in the air as if a weapon had been aimed. Cardell's breathing escalated, harsh and heavy and filled with all the fear that his eyes couldn't contain.

“Lying,” he rasped. “Evil.”

He raised a hand that was covered with squirming black, brown, and tan scorpions. So far it didn't look like they were stinging him, but the very sight made a cold sweat break out over Ryan's skin.

The kid pointed at Sabelle. “Lying. Tricking. Don't. Trust.”

Spittle flew from his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

“Lying. Lying. Don't trust, Son. Lying. Go. Give. GIVEHERUP.”

White foam appeared at the corners of Cardell's lips. Had he been stung? The boy's eyes rolled back in his head. He keeled to the right and Ryan rushed up to catch him, forcing himself past his fear to reach the boy.

As his hands slipped beneath the Cardell's arms, the scorpions dropped from their perch at his throat and hit the ground with a soft plop. They pushed their way to Ryan, inching up to the soles of his shoes, crawling over one another in their haste, scaly bodies writhing with pincers and stingers raised. They looked prehistoric. They looked deadly.

Ryan could hear Sabelle whispering his name as he watched the scorpions move down the kid's body, over the creases and bulges of his sweatshirt. He felt the dry scrape of their legs as they clambered over his fingers where he gripped Cardell. He braced for the stings that didn't come.

In a chaotic, revolting exodus, they scuttled to the floor. Like a wave churning with black sand and brown grit, they rippled through the screaming crowd, finding the seams where the floors and walls met, climbing up and disappearing into the panels of the ceiling, beneath the checkout counters, under the industrial carpet. In a matter of seconds, they were gone. Every last one of them.

Ryan had Cardell in his arms. He could feel the boy's muscles releasing the crackling tension that had held him.

“Water,” he barked at the guard.

The old guy ran to the snack bar while Cardell's mother rushed up and took her child from Ryan, babbling “Thank you, thank you” as she held him.

Ryan waited long enough to see Cardell's eyes open and hear him say “What happened?” before he stood and found Sabelle waiting behind him. He grabbed her hand, scooped their bags out of their abandoned cart, and pushed out the sliding doors before anyone had time to react and wonder why he'd been involved. With each step he took, he pictured the scorpions in the walls and ceiling, ready to drop down on them as they passed through the threshold.

Other people in the crowd were of the same mind and stormed the exit in a frenzy. Ryan pulled Sabelle in front of him and kept her there as he quickly steered her toward the car. She was shaking. So was he.

Brandy's loud and angry bark met them as they drew close. He opened the door, let her smell him, calmed her down before he closed her in again while he threw their purchases in the trunk.

They hadn't spoken. He didn't know what to say and Sabelle looked like she was in shock. “Get in the car,” he said.

She turned those baby blues on him. “No. I can't keep putting you in danger. I thought you'd—”

“Get in the fucking car, Sabelle,” he said. “Or I'll throw you in myself.”

Her mouth snapped shut, but before she could move, a horn blared. A split second later another joined in. Suddenly car alarms began to wail and bleat from every vehicle in the lot. The customers who'd escaped the store were behind the wheels now, but they obviously hadn't triggered the alarms. He could see stunned faces through the windows as they tried to shut the alarms off. Ryan scanned the lot, watching as the vehicles on the move began careening out of control. One slammed into another, and like dominos, others followed until the sound of cars crashing echoed through the lot. Sabelle turned in place, gaping at the chain reaction of the accidents.

A minivan with a window decal of a happy family in graduated shapes and sizes slammed into an SUV right behind them. Ryan moved quickly, grabbing Sabelle's arms and pulling her back. The minivan's doors sprang open. The driver jumped out and ran away like he was being chased while the minivan kept moving forward, stalling directly behind the Challenger, blocking it. Parked cars on both sides and one in front effectively trapped them in the lot.

“Get in the car,” he told Sabelle again. “I'm going to move the van and then we're getting the hell out of here.”

She nodded, but before he'd taken a step, the radio switched on inside the minivan and loud, bouncy music blared out. It sounded like chipmunks singing Christmas carols. Suddenly the dial spun and hissing static reached out, louder than the horns and the crashes. Ryan didn't know how that was possible, but he didn't take time to reason it out. He stepped up to the open door.

The minivan had a full theater system inside with viewing screens embedded in the backs of both front seats. The displays lit up and more sibilant static joined the radio. The dial spun again, zipping through voices and melodies with such volume and speed they became ear-rupturing white noise. The cacophony was overwhelming, and the need to escape rode Ryan like a desert wind.

Ryan climbed into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the sounds stopped. He cranked the wheel and moved the van to one side just as a police car zoomed in with lights flashing and siren screaming. The cruiser came to a screeching stop in the space Ryan had just cleared of the minivan and a uniformed officer leapt out like he was in hot pursuit. Ryan cut his eyes to Sabelle. She hadn't ­listened—why was he surprised? She still stood outside the car, watching with rounded eyes.

All around them, car lights blinked and radios blasted while frightened people dashed back and forth, seeking safety in a world gone crazy.

A low, deep growl rumbled across the disaster zone of a parking lot, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Shadows sprang through the wreckage, looming here, scampering low there. Inside the car, Brandy went ape-shit and raced from window to window, barking ferociously.

“What are you doing here?”

The deep voice spun both Ryan and Sabelle around. In the pandemonium, they'd forgotten about the police officer. He stood in the crisscrossed high beams of a pickup truck at an angle on his right and a Toyota Corolla on the left. It was the same cop who'd driven them home after the explosion at Love's. His name was Wiesel, Ryan remembered, and he'd smiled when he waved good-bye. He wasn't smiling now. His eyes were narrowed and he held his gun in his hand. From inside the Toyota, a woman screamed and the threatening growl took on a satisfied tone. Two cars down, someone else shrieked in terror, and suddenly it seemed that everyone was screaming. Ryan was covered in cold sweat. What now?

“What's going on here?” Wiesel snapped. “What have you done?”

Ryan didn't understand the man's anger, but he didn't need to understand it to know that nothing happening here, now, was of the real world. The question was: How far did this insanity stretch? How the hell were they going to get out of it?

Carefully, Ryan eased closer to Sabelle, wishing she'd get in the fucking car. Wiesel watched him, his expression a mask of icy rage. His face was blotched, his eyes wild. The screaming went on and on, but Wiesel didn't seem to hear it. His entire focus was on the two of them.

Ryan had his hands in the air and said, “No need for the gun. We're just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We're not the problem here.”

“I said don't move!” Wiesel shouted.

He hadn't said it. Nor had Ryan moved. Neither had Sabelle.

“That's your last warning,” Wiesel yelled, as if Ryan and Sabelle had tried to flee instead of remaining stone-still. “Stop or I'll shoot!”

He raised the gun, swiveled until it was aimed at Sabelle's head, and pulled the trigger. It happened so fast that the shot rang out before Ryan realized he'd fired. Instinct moved him as his mind scrambled to keep up. He hurled himself at her, shoving her out of the way just as the bullet sped past. It grazed her cheek and slammed through the rear window of an SUV in the next row over.

Instantly, Wiesel aimed again but Ryan didn't give him the chance to shoot. Bent low, he charged, ramming the cop back into the parked police car and slamming his wrist against the edge of the open door until the gun flew from his fingers. It bounced across the hood and onto the asphalt.

Ryan shouted at Sabelle, “Get in the fucking car!”