The Fate of Destiny (Fates #1) (29 page)

Farris, curled into a sheepskin lined blanket, stared into the fire. The crack and pop of burning wood combined with the dance of orange flames lulled her into an almost trance-like state. She thought of nothing, just stared.

Emerson, taking first watch, sat next to her with his knees drawn up, forearms draped around. She was aware of him peripherally. Distantly.

“
You can put your head on my lap and sleep, if you want. You should at least try to get some rest,” he said after a time.

His voice roused her. She glanced aside. His eyes, clear and lucid, reflected the flames. Lowering his legs until they were straight, he pulled an ottoman up behind him to lean against and laid a pillow across his lap. He patted it invitingly.

Emerson knew how to make rest look appealing. For a long moment, she watched his eyes. Searched his for answers to questions she didn't currently ask. She was afraid to get too comfortable, afraid to close her eyes. Understanding that her body and mind needed the rest, however, she tilted sideways and lowered her head to the pillow. Rolling onto her back, she drew the blanket up to her chin.

Right away, Emerson's hand went to her hair, stroking the strands back from her forehead. Whatever Emerson was, or wasn't, she didn't mistake the affection with which he touched her. It made her wonder if this was the reason he'd come to her aid so many times, even in the beginning when he had been the one to precipitate the disaster.

“
What's on your mind?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“
Everything. I wonder why you stuck around. Kept coming back even if you didn't have to.”

“
It's not obvious?”

Heat crept under her cheeks. “I don't like to assume.”

“
I don't usually stick around. Girls, I mean. I don't get involved. For obvious reasons, my life makes it difficult for me to get close to too many people.”

She drew her gaze away from the fire and turned her head up until their eyes met. He was looking down at her, still stroking a hand over her hair. It seemed to comfort him as much as it comforted her.

“
Why am I different?”

“
You just are.”

“
That's not a real answer.”

“
It's the best answer I've got.” He paused, then continued. “I don't know. I just didn't want to see you hurt at the Rocket. It went on from there. I like your spunk, your fire. You're not perfect and you know it. You embrace the skeletons in your closet and don't care who knows you've got them. People who pretend like they don't have any just wind up annoying me. Everyone's got a past.”

“
You haven't talked about yours at all,” she reminded him.

“
It gets heavy pretty quick. Maybe that's a story for later.”

“
You mean if we make it through the rest of the night and through tomorrow?”

“
Yeah.”

“
What if we don't make it?”

“
We've made it this far.”

“
Sounds like you're the glass half full type.”

“
And you're the glass half empty. Opposites and all that, right?”

“
I'm not
always
a pessimist.”

“
Usually. But you're cute about it, at least.”

“
What if you find out later that you don't like the skeletons in my closet?”

“
What if you find out you don't like mine?” He arched a brow.

“
The magic saves you.”

He shook with a silent laugh. “It's not magic, exactly.”

“
It is too.”

“
Not really. Magic is--”

“
I saw that hole open up in the ground. That was magic.”

“
That was a Rift.”

“
A Magic Rift.”

He laughed again, more breath than sound. “There you go, being stubborn again.”

“
Who is calling who stubborn?”
She
arched a brow.

“
I'm never stubborn.”

Farris scoffed. It was a rude but delicate sound. She grew serious a moment later. “I really wish you'd tell me what you say you can't.”

“
There's a very good reason. Trust me.”

She considered his expression, his eyes. “I do trust you. I shouldn't, not after all this, but I do. If you hadn't come back after the fire, or helped at the Rocket—among other things—I wouldn't put myself in your care.”

“
Just promise me that you'll remember you said that when the time comes.”

“
When the time comes for what?”

“
You'll see.”

“
Do you have the gift of foresight?”

He winced. “No.”

“
Then why does it seem like you do?”

“
It just seems that way, Farris. By later on tonight, this will all be over. That's what we have to look forward to, right?”

“
So you're saying you're going to stick around Newcastle then?”

“
It looks that way. See how things work out.”

Farris understood Emerson was as tentative as she was about all this. Or maybe he was cautious instead of tentative. She couldn't decide.

“
Tell me what other kinds of things are different with the world I don't know about.”

“
Tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Just one hint.”

He smiled. “No, because if I give you one hint then you'll want another, and then another, until we're in a full fledged question and answer session. Not gonna happen.”

“
I will not do that--” In the midst of speaking, she heard the distant—but growing louder—sound of engines. “What's that?”

Emerson ducked his hands under the pillow and raised her to a sitting position. “Wake Beelah.”

Farris sat up and shoved off the blanket, then got to her feet.

Emerson reached over to grab Theron's boot and give it a vigorous shake. “Wake up, man. Wake up. Sounds like someone's coming.”

Theron stirred. He looked groggy. In the firelight, it was difficult to tell if any of his color had returned.

“
Beelah! Wake up.” Farris gently shook her friend's shoulder. Bee sat up suddenly, startled.

“
What is it?”

“
I don't know. But get up.”

Theron accepted a hand from Emerson. Staggering to a stand, he took a deep breath in and followed Emerson to the front window. The sound of engines was louder now.

Headlights speared the darkness outside, slanting from the road across the front lawn.

“
Cars. About five of them,” Emerson said. “Can't tell if it's the Sheriff or what.”

Theron jumped up and down in place a few times then peered through a slit in the curtains. “He wouldn't be coming out here for you if he let you go.”

“
Well. He might. I stole Larissa's car earlier.”

“
You did
what?”
Farris let go of Beelah and glanced at Emerson, shocked.

“
I stole her car.”

“
Man, that ain't the Sheriff. That's Larissa and her cronies,” Theron said. “And look how many of 'em have bats.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“
EMERSON! Come out, we' know you're in there!”

“
Whoo, they look pretty mad,” Theron pointed out. He might have been grinning.

“
Seriously,
Emerson?” Farris seethed at the thought of Emerson anywhere near Larissa. The girl was notorious for disregarding relationships between anyone—not that she and Emerson were in a relationship. Still. It rankled.

“
How many you see out there, Theron?” Emerson asked, ignoring Farris.

“
Like...eight, maybe? Eight guys, three girls. Hard to tell in the dark with the headlights blinding me.”

Emerson glanced back at Farris. She met his eyes, hands on her hips. He had the audacity to grin. “You two stay inside. Let me see if I can diffuse the situation.”

“
I'm not staying inside,” she said.

“
Remember what we talked about earlier?”

“
I'm still not staying inside.”

“
Yes, you are. Step one foot out that door and I'll throw you over my knee the first chance I get.” He pointed a finger at her, then stalked to the door, removed the chair, snapped the bolts over, and went outside. Theron was right on his heels.

Farris fumed. “C'mon, Bee.”

“
I don't think you should go out there just yet. What if Palmer's outside?”

“
He can't tell me what to do. But for now, I won't go out.
For now.”
Farris tugged Beelah with her to the big front window. There was no way this was going down without her at least watching. Dark silhouettes, outlined by the headlights of the cars, approached the porch. Most had bats in their hands.

Larissa, Renee and Cait hung back by one of the trucks. Farris knew by their slimmer shapes and the gleam of Larissa's white-blonde hair who they were.

“
I can't believe he stole her Mercedes,” Bee whispered.

“
It's not here, though. I wonder where he left it.” Farris covered her mouth and gasped when one of the boys suddenly attacked the cherry red Charger, busting out a back tail light.

“
Hey!” Emerson shouted. He vaulted the rail to the ground.

Theron landed right after.

“
Oh...oh, this isn't going to be good,” Farris predicted, gnawing on her lip. “What can we do to help them?”

“
He said not to go outside.”

“
He's not my Dad,” Farris scoffed.

“
I don't want to hear you complaining later when he puts you over his knee.”

“
He wouldn't dare.” Farris thought about what she and Beelah could do to make Larissa and her gang go away. Palmer was undoubtedly one of the boys carrying a bat.

“
Did you hear that?”

“
Hear what?” Farris glanced at Beelah. She was frowning.

“
I don't know. Something.”

“
You mean their argument? I can't hear what they're saying, exactly.”

“
Not the argument. I can't put my finger on it,” Beelah said, peering away from the fight toward the distant line of the corn field.

“
Every time you say you hear something, and we can't see it, something really bad happens,” Farris pointed out. She looked outside, too, but didn't see anything unusual. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles glistening on the ground. She glanced back at the group of boys in time to see one point his bat toward Emerson. Five bodies made a half arc around Emerson and Theron; the other three started to circle around behind them.

With no more warning than that, one of the silhouettes swung a bat toward Emerson's shoulder. Emerson hopped back out of the way, agile for a man of his size and grabbed the barrel of the bat as it passed by. He gave it a hard yank, unbalancing his foe.

The fight was on.

A flurry of bats started swinging, arcing through the headlights from the parked cars. It became difficult for Farris to tell who was who after a few seconds, or whether anyone was getting seriously hurt.

“
I hate this.” She glanced at the door. “I can't see, can't hear what they're saying. I'm going out.”

Beelah adjusted her glasses and pushed the sleeves to her elbows. “All right. Let's go.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Devon stared with satisfaction at the final burning paper. The bowl atop the pedestal, perimeter singed with soot, spewed wisps of smoke toward the ceiling. After finding Rowley and giving the order to mess with the truck, she had come directly back here to see to the rest of the rituals.

Not only had she barred the Fates of Destiny and Chaos from wielding their magic in Newcastle, she had—she hoped—blocked them from the ability to interfere and change any Destinies of the people directly involved.

Like Beelah.

Devon smiled when she thought of little Beelah Bosley fighting for the wheel on the out of control truck. Rife with optimistic energy at the turn of events, she stepped away from the pedestal and approached her desk. Atop, she'd left the pertinent Destinies that mattered for today.

One glance proved that Rowley had succeeded with the truck, and Beelah
had
made an attempt at the wheel—yet Farris still lived.

“
What
is
it with this girl?” Devon, furious that her fail-proof plan had failed, toppled the chair with an angry shove. It fell backward to the floor with a bang that reverberated through the main room and into the long corridors that held the rest of the Destinies.

Devon couldn't believe that Farris had escaped yet again. It
almost
seemed as if someone else was over riding everything, had taken control from another angle she couldn't see.

Pacing around the desk, hands on her hips, Devon scowled and contemplated the use of unnatural creatures once more. It was a last, desperate attempt, one that might have severe repercussions if she didn't plan it just right. As before, she was a little worried she wasn't strong enough or experienced enough to take this on. Rowley was still out there and she knew he wouldn't stop until Farris died her natural death or until he managed to bring her down with a volatile act of nature.