Fates (20 page)

Stay calm,
Corinthe told herself. Blinking away the smoke, eyes stinging, she ran her hand blindly across the grating and felt something slip underneath her fingers. At that instant, her vision cleared. She watched the chain jerk down through the grating—quickly, violently, as if it had been pulled from down below.

Until she realized that the key was, miraculously, still clutched in her right fist. It must have become detached from the chain. She stood, her hand shaking so badly she failed the first two times she attempted to insert it into the lock. Luc put his hand over hers, steadying it. Together, they turned it.

Instead of causing the clock hands to rotate, turning the key made the whole face of the clock turn. It revolved with a grinding, grating noise and came to rest upside down, with the twelve at the bottom and the six at the top, before swinging open like a door.

The winds of the Crossroad waited, almost comforting in contrast to where they were now. Corinthe stood gasping at the vision of serene turquoise light and the smell of clouds, of sky.

A deafening groan sounded above them, and the tower began to collapse into itself. Kinesthesia was falling apart. Corinthe had no idea what that meant for the rest of the universe, but she knew it was bad. Very bad.

She pulled the key from the lock just as the floor shifted underneath them. The key went tumbling downward, disappearing in the smoke.

“Go!” Luc shouted.

This is all my fault.

It was her last thought before the entire tower collapsed over them.

L
uc gave Corinthe a push and threw himself out of the tower behind her just before it collapsed.

And then, suddenly, the tower wasn't there anymore; they were surrounded by swirling nothingness, by winds and currents. He found her hand and gripped it tightly. Although it seemed there was no ground beneath their feet, they didn't fall.

Luc opened his eyes. They were in a world of mist. Everything was a wash of gray. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. They could be on a mountain or deep in a canyon and they'd never even know it.

Corinthe squeezed his hand, as if to say she'd heard his thoughts. And despite everything, Luc was grateful she had found him. More than grateful.

In that freakish world of two suns, he had slept with his body wrapped around Corinthe's, his face buried in her hair. She had seemed surprised—and unhappy, he thought—by her exhaustion, by her desire to sleep. But soon she had relaxed, and they lay together, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder, until the first streaks of dawn lightened the sky. Waking with her in his arms had felt too good—right, almost, as if she'd been made to sleep in the hollow of his body. He'd never felt that with Karen—or with anyone.

Corinthe was a virtual stranger and he'd told her things he'd never told another soul. He and Karen had been together for three months. But he'd never been able to open up to her about his family. He'd never wanted to.

With Corinthe, it felt right.

Which was exactly why he'd decided to leave.

But with Corinthe near him, he was not so afraid—and not so alone.

A wispy finger of mist detached from the nothingness and slid toward them. Like the vines on a plant, tendrils of mist wrapped around their feet, climbed their legs. Luc's legs tingled; it felt almost as if he were being coaxed or pulled somewhere.

Luc kicked out and the mist dissolved.

“What the hell is this place?” he said.

“I don't know,” Corinthe said. “I've never seen it in a marble.”

Luc was about to ask what she meant, but Corinthe pointed. “Look.”

The mist in front of them had cleared slightly, and a rocky pathway had appeared, extending into the distance. As they advanced along it, the ground behind them silently crumbled away to more nothingness.

The path was narrow, and they had to walk single file. He could feel the heat of Corinthe's breath on the back of his neck, a sharp contrast to the coolness of the mist.

Each step made Luc more panicked. They were lost, and Jasmine was dying. But the only choice was to keep going forward, into the unknown. There could be no turning back; the mist ate up the space behind them, and the path disappeared.

Corinthe put a hand on his back to stop him. “Wait.”

The hair on the back of his neck pricked up. He turned to face her. “What is it?”

Her eyes were wide. “Listen.”

Luc closed his eyes and concentrated. At first, he thought he was just hearing the wind rustling through unseen trees. But as he listened, he began to make out individual words. Whispers. Voices.

The thousands of voices that wafted up from the fog were talking, some loud, some soft, some angry, some happy.

“Hello?” he called out.

Laughter, almost directly in front of them, echoed back to them. Luc reached back for Corinthe's hand and pulled her forward along the path. Now he could see shadows passing through the fog around them.

“Hello?” he called again.

“Luc!” Corinthe called out.

He hadn't felt her pull away, hadn't seen her wander off. But she had left the path. Her outline was barely visible in the fog. He turned once in a circle. The path behind them was gone, completely obscured by the thick mist.

Goose bumps popped up along his arms.

“Luc!” Corinthe called again.

Her voice sounded fainter.

“Corinthe!” If he didn't hurry, if he didn't follow her, he'd lose her in this mess. He took a tentative step off the path, feeling ice-cold tongues of mist lapping around his ankles. The ground was soft and springy underneath him, as though he were walking on moss, but the fog was so thick, he could barely make out his own feet. He nearly collided with Corinthe before she materialized, suddenly, in the mist.

He exhaled. He felt better just standing next to her.

The fog in front of them was somewhat less dense, and he saw several sickly-looking trees. Their branches dipped down toward the earth like long fingers waiting to grab them both. Luc had a sudden image of being trapped in this world forever, of circling through the dark and the damp, of listening to the whispers of those terrible voices.

“How do we get out of here?” Luc couldn't stop himself from shivering. “What about the locket thingy? Can't you use it?”

Corinthe shook her head. “It's no use to us here.”

Something occurred to Luc then—something that made his stomach seize up with dread. “You don't know how it works, either, do you?”

Corinthe looked uneasy for a moment. Then she tossed her hair, almost defiantly. “It doesn't matter
how
it works. I'm supposed to follow it. That's all.”

Luc rubbed his head, where he could feel pressure building. “Don't you ever get tired of doing what you're told to do? Blindly? Like—like an animal?”

Corinthe jerked backward an inch, as though she'd been slapped.

“I'm sorry,” Luc said quickly. “I didn't mean—”

“Come on.” Corinthe's voice was cold, and, he thought, hurt. “There's no point in arguing. We have to keep going, that's all.”

“Where?” As if in answer to his question, the fog retreated and a new path appeared, between the trees: a series of moss-covered stones and tamped-down earth, winding off into the distance.

The whispers grew louder as they walked, and Luc had the uncomfortable feeling that he used to get when he'd first switched schools in sixth grade—when, walking into the cafeteria at lunchtime, there had been a brief moment where everyone stared at him, assessing, giggling behind cupped hands. When Corinthe paused to rest momentarily, he unconsciously reached out for her hand. He was glad she let him take it.

Up ahead, he noticed a shape moving just beyond the curtain of fog. A person? Something else? He couldn't tell. His throat was dry. The voices rose; he could hear tinkling laughter now, and the distant sound of music.

“What is it?” Corinthe asked.

“Come on,” Luc whispered, tightening his hold on her hand. His heart rammed in his chest. They moved toward the shape he had seen, toward the voices, and suddenly the fog rose all around them, thicker than ever. It swept into Luc's throat, clotted his nostrils, made him dizzy.

Then it was gone. Luc blinked.

They were standing on Karen's houseboat.

The ground beneath their feet was now polished wood. Music was thumping from the deck, and he was surrounded by all of his friends. There was a keg on one portion of the deck and paper lanterns strung from the railings.

What the hell?

“Dude, that last play was sick,” Ty said. He clapped Luc on the back and handed him a beer. The bottle was cold. “The Duke pulled it out of the air again.”

“Now let's hope you bring it for SoCal.” That was Jake.

Luc stared at Corinthe. She looked as confused as he was. This couldn't be real—must not be real—but he could even feel the mist from the bay.

When a drunk Cindy Strong bumped into him, he felt it, and when he brought the bottle of beer to his lips, he tasted it, too.

He reached out and poked Tyler in the shoulder. He felt real.

“What the hell, man?” Ty laughed, pushing him back good-naturedly.

Had they gone back in time somehow?

They were on Karen's houseboat, and celebrating a
win.
Was this … some kind of different reality? Another chance?

“What is this place?” he asked Corinthe. “Did we go back in time?”

Corinthe looked troubled. “Not even the Unseen Ones can control time.” She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. “Miranda told me a story once about a Radical who was so powerful that he turned back time to be with his true love. So he could save her.” Corinthe looked troubled. “But it was just a story.”

A sense of uneasiness slithered down Luc's spine. If she didn't know where they were, what kind of world they were in, how would they ever get out?

Corinthe slipped away from him suddenly, into the thick crowd. Luc tried to follow her, but he kept getting held up—classmates, people he knew, stopped him to congratulate him on the big win.

“This party's sweet, man,” Ricky Semola said. He was holding hands with a girl who had a pale, heart-shaped face and long bangs. She smiled up at Luc.

It was the drunk freshman. Who wasn't drunk anymore.

“Thanks,” Luc said distractedly. Everything was just a little different, like a familiar picture tilted slightly on an angle. It made his head spin.

“Yeah. Your girl really knows how to throw a rager.” Ricky reached out and clinked bottles with Luc. Luc was about to correct him—
she's not my girl, she broke up with me, she cheated on me, didn't you hear?
—but he swallowed the words.

Karen hadn't cheated on him yet. She had cheated on him here, at this very party.

Ricky and the freshman had wandered off into the crowd, arms around each other. Luc noticed that her skirt hung perfectly down to her mid-thighs.

By the time Luc got to the doorway that led downstairs to the galley, Corinthe was nowhere to be seen. He continued downstairs, into the kitchen. From across the room, he saw the sign hanging on the golden rope.

A sick feeling worked his way into his stomach. Not again.

“Hey, Luc, Karen is looking for you.” He swung around and saw Lily leaning on the bar. “She said she had a surprise for you tonight.” She raised her champagne glass and grinned.

Luc couldn't even respond. This was getting weirder by the second—Lily
hated
him. Winning he could take. But Lily being nice really freaked him out.

He needed to find Corinthe. He ducked under the cord. The door to Karen's room was open. He hesitated, reluctant to relive that painful memory. But what was the worst that could happen? He'd already see Karen and Mike going at it, and at least this time he knew what to expect.

Luc sucked in a breath and stepped into the room. Corinthe stood in the middle of the room, staring at the bed. It was empty. She turned slowly to look at him.

“They're not here,” she said.

He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he exhaled. “Are there … I don't know … alternate realities?”

Corinthe stared at him as though he'd just solved a riddle.

“What?” he said.

“There were rumors in Pyralis,” she said slowly, “of a world of possibilities, of missed chances. I didn't believe it. Everything is destiny; there are no chances.” Corinthe reached out to touch one of the walls. Her hand shook. “But we're here. How can this be real?”

Different worlds.
It still seemed too fantastical to believe. But Luc couldn't deny what was happening.

Jas had always believed there was more to the universe than they could see. He remembered when they were sitting on the fire escape and looking up at the stars, and she'd ask him about it.
Think there's life out there somewhere?

Not really sure,
he finally answered.
You?

She had smiled.
It's everywhere.

The thought of Jas made him feel sick.

“So …” Luc was having a hard time wrapping his head around what Corinthe had just told him. “If it's a world of missed chances … that means we
really
didn't win the game, right? This is just some … chance that never happened?”

Corinthe nodded. “But I don't understand. …” She stopped in front of the gilded mirror, staring at her reflection with an expression of pain.

“Understand what?” Luc asked.

Corinthe hesitated, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “How this world can even exist at all. The universe only works one way. It
must
only work one way.” She spun around to look at him. “How can other possibilities exist? How can there be more than one outcome if everything that happens was destined to occur?”

“Yeah, it does kinda blow a hole in your fate theory, doesn't it?” Luc said. He stood up. This was all kind of blowing a hole in his mind, too.

“You don't get it.” She glared at him. “If things are random—if choice exists—then everything I know, everything I am, would be wrong. My entire existence would mean nothing.” Corinthe was practically shaking. “We shouldn't be here,” she said, with sudden ferocity. “We have to find a way out.”

“And how do you know this wasn't supposed to happen? If you believe in fate, maybe this is it. The way it
should
be.” He said it to provoke her, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, they seemed to take on new meaning. They were standing so close together he could make out individual threads of color in her eyes.