A Matter of Fate (21 page)

“No,” Kellan tells me.

Fabulous. “Will the punishment be the same or worse?”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the answer plain as day in his eyes. I reach up and rub my own. “Is there anything else that we ought to know, Lizzie?” he asks.

Her eyes flick briefly toward Kellan. “It’s like I said. I told him everything. About everyone.”

A wave of crushing disappointment and anger washes over me. “You didn’t have that right! It’s one thing to risk yourself, another thing to risk your family. But you had
no
right to risk anyone else.”

“But—”

I am unmoved. “How dare you!”

“Chloe,” Kellan says calmly from behind me, “you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t like the secrets anymore,” she snaps, giving me a meaningful look that is easy to interpret:
Unlike
your
secrets.

Before I unleash a basketful of anger on her, Kellan’s arm slides around my shoulders. Graham stands up next to Lizzie, assuming the same position. “Kellan,” he says, trying to sound cool, but it’s no use—he’s obviously nervous. “Is there any way for me to . . . I don’t know . . . deflect what you’re going to do to me?”

Lizzie must finally realize why I’ve really called Kellan over, because she starts crying again.

“If there was, do you think I’d tell?” Kellan asks, amused.

“Is anyone immune?” Graham asks.

Kellan shakes his head.

“Any way to reverse it?”

“If another Emotional were to influence you, then yes. But it’s not a potion, Graham. It doesn’t wear off over time. If I influence you, that’s how it’ll be until I decide differently.”

Graham nods, biting his lip. Lizzie grips his arm. “Chloe,” she says, low and urgent, “I know you’re upset, and . . . and . . . I get that what I’ve done isn’t allowed . . . .”

“It’s illegal,” I say hotly. “And for good reason.”

“I know. But . . . you know Graham!” She turns to her boyfriend. “She knows you! You wouldn’t tell, would you? You’d never tell, right?”

“Of course not,” he insists. Then he takes a deep breath. “Look. If it’ll make things easier for Lizzie, could you maybe . . . do something to make me not talk?”

“Don’t say that!” Lizzie rotates in his embrace. “You don’t mean that!”

“I don’t plan on telling,” he says to her. “But sometimes stupid things happen—like talking in your sleep, or in anger . . . or . . . I don’t know. Anything. I don’t want to betray you, but how can someone make that promise? When so many things can so easily go wrong?” He looks at Kellan. “She’s told me about you, about what you can do. You can manipulate people to do exactly what you want by reprogramming their feelings. If it makes you and Chloe feel better, if it reassures everyone that I won’t betray you, do something now. Make it so I’ll never have the ability to let this secret go.”

“No,” Lizzie interjects quickly. “You don’t want that. It’ll change you—”

“But doesn’t your kind do that anyway? Isn’t that what you’re going to do to some artist in Spain in a few years? Change him so he can change art? What’s the difference?”

“It’s different,” Lizzie wails.

Graham shakes his head. “It’s not, though. All it’ll do is make sure I never tell. And that’s what I want anyway.” He looks back at Kellan. “Can you do it?”

“It’s done,” Kellan says, looking bored once more.

“Did you really do something to Graham?”

We’re in the kitchen, making tea. Kellan is standing at the counter, dipping my tea bag over and over again in the cup. “Yes.”

“Do you mind me asking what?”

“I did exactly as he asked.”

“I figured that part out,” I say, sliding up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. “But what’d you do?”

He turns around to face me. “I did it the moment he walked into the room. I didn’t want to take a chance. I like Graham, and . . . he’s freaked out, yeah—but he truly loves Lizzie and wants what’s best. He loves you, too, and doesn’t want to risk anyone. So I simply heightened his senses of protectiveness and guilt toward the whole situation. He’ll do anything to protect the secret. And there’s dormant guilt that will spring at the first hint of him attempting to tell anyone, consciously or unconsciously. It’ll be so overwhelming that he won’t be able to get three words out.”

“So nuanced,” I marvel.

He shrugs and reaches for my tea. “You love your friend. I made sure that she’s safe for the time being.”

I’m overcome with love for this person. It rocks me to my core and then explodes until every last nook and cranny is filled with it. I want to tell him this, want to explain what he’s come to mean to me, but I can’t. Because it’s so much, so overwhelming, that speech isn’t necessary.

“Have you missed me,
mi amiga?
” Raul is standing in the doorway, a sly smile on his face.

I leap off the couch and receive a huge, albeit far too friendly, hug. “What are you doing here?”

He motions behind him. “I come bearing gifts.” A short girl with dark skin, curly, dark hair, and dark eyes appears. Everything about her is so darn adorable and friendly that I’m instantly drawn to her.

“I was wondering if you’d show up!” Karl says from behind me.

“And miss out on meeting the Creator? I think not, mate,” the girl says. She’s got an accent . . . Australian, maybe?

“Let them in, Chloe,” Karl says. I step aside and Raul and the girl come into the living room. Karl motions to her. “Kiah, this is Chloe Lilywhite. Chloe, this is the Dreamer I told you about. Kiah Redrock.”

It turns out Kiah is Aborigine, hence the accent, and extremely bubbly. She talks a mile a minute, is whip smart, and cracks so many jokes that she’s got the guys laughing the entire time. She insists on cooking us dinner but, missing some ingredients, sends the guys to the store. When Raul protests, she quickly reminds him that she’s a Guard, too—and one that can alter any being’s perceived reality, and wouldn’t learning from her technically serve me better than someone who can create a tornado or shake the earth?

Humbled, the guys leave for the store.

She gives me a wink. “Now then. I figured it’d be nice to have a bit of privacy without those boys listening.”

I lean against the counter as she begins preparations for making vegetarian lasagna. “What does a Dreamer do?”

Of course, this confuses Kiah, so I lamely offer the truth of how my parents have kept me pretty much in the dark.

“Wow.” She sets a wooden spoon down. “Well. Let’s see. I can infiltrate someone’s mind asleep or awake, causing them to see and believe things that may not necessarily be true. Much like an Emotional, I suppose—but rather than causing an actual feeling, I alter the reality of the mind.”

“Is that your main purpose as a Magical?”

“Oh, no,” she says, smiling. “It’s just one aspect. Not all Dreamers are on the Guard, you know. I do a lot of that because it’s necessary for my job. Mostly, a Dreamer deals with just what you’d expect—dreams. Let me explain it from the Aboriginal viewpoint, since that’s what I was raised to understand. There are two parallel planes of consciousness, if you will. The time you are awake, and the time during which you are dreaming. Some people believe dreams are just images we make in our heads. But there’s also the belief that during some dreams, whatever happens affects the events of the opposite plane of consciousness. We call this Dreamtime.”

I nod, urging her to continue.

“We Dreamers help manipulate that sort of stuff for our constituents,” she continues. “But we also can tinker with other Magicals, too. Like you. You’ve walked Dreamtime most of your life, right?”

Surprised, I ask, “You can tell?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she puts wide noodles into a pot of water. “There’s no real easy way to tell you this other than just to say it. When you were an infant, my mum erected a door to your dreams, to the place where you walked. You were on her caseload.”

“She built . . . a door?”

“It’s gone now,” Kiah says, stirring the pasta. “But yeah, you had a doorway. The closer you’ve gotten to Ascension, the more unstable the door became. I’d be gobsmacked if it was still functioning nowadays.”

“Why would a Dreamer build a door for me?”

“
Think
, Chloe.”

Astrid Lotus had told me that some Magicals meet through their dreams. And Karl had asked if I dreamed about Jonah . . . . “Are you saying that we were
meant
to find each other?”

She knows exactly what I mean, no clarification necessary. “Of course. Fate wants you two together.”

Like you didn’t always know, deep down,
the little voice murmurs.

“Lucky girl, having a Connection and all! So many of my mates are always trying to buy me off, find ways to connect them off with doorways to some bloke they fancy.”

I grab hold of the counter to steady myself. I’d assumed I had one, but now . . . Now I know for sure. And I am inexplicably blown away by this.

She stops stirring and looks up at me. “You didn’t know you have one?”

I think back to what Karl’s told me about Connections. How it’s true love. “I . . . uh . . . .” I drag a stool over and sit down on it. “How do
you
know?”

“Dreamers know,” she says, grinning while tapping the side of her nose. “When we’re in Dreamtime, we find out if a person needs a doorway, if they’re meant for a Connection. And then we go build one. My mum knew you had a Connection, so she built you a doorway to find him. I’m taking it you did?”

My mind races so fast that it’s a miracle I can grab onto any coherent thoughts at all. I already knew I was in love with Jonah, have been since day one, because . . . he’s my
Connection
. It’s so obvious! Why didn’t I see this before? Does Jonah know we’re Connected? Is this why he’s so angry all the time? And—he sees me with his brother. He knows I’m dating . . . kissing . . . doing gods know what with his brother, and if he knows, then he knows it’s his true love, his soul mate doing these things. What kind of monster am I?

“Does . . . uh . . . Fate ever make a mistake?” I croak.

She gets me a glass of water. “Never. Are you telling me you didn’t fall in love?”

I drink it all in four huge gulps. “I fell in love.”

“Well, that’s good,” she says brightly. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”

“Is it real?”

“Pardon?”

“My feelings. Are they real? Are Connections—I don’t know—byproducts of Magic? Did someone
make
us fall in love?”

“No, Chloe. Connections just
are.
You fall in love because that person was created to be yours.” She pulls a stool over and sits down across from me. “My mum once told me that it was like identical twins. You know how they start? As one? And then they split and become two? Connections are like that. Puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. Two halves which make a whole. Sounds rather co-dependent, doesn’t it? But all the people I know with Connections—and it’s not many, because it’s a rare gift from Fate—say it’s not like that. It’s hard to explain, which is why you should talk to Karl about it all.”

“You know Karl has a Connection?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, grimacing. “I know.” She sighs and looks off to the side.

I’m intrigued by her reaction, but smart enough to not put my nose where it doesn’t belong. I swallow hard and ask, “Do people with Connections ever fall in love with other people?”

“Nope. Not possible.”

“Never?”

“Oh, sure—you can love someone, but you can’t ever be
in
love with another person.” She stands up and stirs the noodles again. “Trust me. I know.”

“Do you have a Connection?”

“No, mate. I’m not one of the lucky ones.”

The front door slams and Karl and Raul’s voices fill the air. Kiah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes, her face is relaxed, happy even. All of the pain I’d just seen has disappeared. “It’s about time!” she says when the men come into the kitchen with their bags. “The noodles are just about to go soggy. Get to work, boys. I want a sauce.”

“Giules is so jealous of us right now,” Raul says once the sauce is on the stove. “She’s having Top Ramen tonight.”

“She loves my lasagna,” Kiah says. “Calls me an honorary Italian.”

Raul steals a taste, ducking when Kiah swats at him. “We invited her over, but apparently she’d promised Jonah he could go surfing.”

I look out the windows into the dark sky. “At night?”

“No one said it’d be here,” Raul winks. “Kellan was tempted to stay, wanting to come see his girl here, but I guess Jonah insisted he come with.”

Kiah looks up sharply from the dish she’s laying noodles in. “You’re dating Kellan Whitecomb?”

Raul cuts himself a piece of mozzarella. “They are disgusting together. You won’t recognize our Kellan. He’s gone soft around her. Even threatened me once, saying I had to keep my hands off Chloe or else.”

“He was just joking,” I mumble.

Kiah’s eyes are wide in surprise. She knows, I realize. She knows it should be Jonah. “I can hardly believe it,” she says carefully, going back to her noodles.

“Me too,” Raul says, elbowing Karl. “Who’d have thought—”

And . . . Karl comes to my rescue, cutting Raul’s words off. “You should talk, what with your horrible dating track record and all.”

“We can’t all be Connected like you and Moira,” Raul laughs, but a burst of awkwardness explodes in the room. He quickly changes the subject, but I witness a brief, agonizingly uncomfortable glance between Kiah and Karl.

When we’re setting the table, Kiah brushes up against me as she lays down a napkin. “Kellan Whitecomb doesn’t have a doorway.”

I plead with her silently for answers, but she has none to give.

Kiah may not have any answers to give, but Alex does a few days later. His victory yell fills the house as he runs from the office into the living room. “I’VE DONE IT! I’VE FIGURED IT OUT!”

“Whoa,” Karl says, turning off the TV. “What are you talking about?”

Alex doubles over, panting even though it’s a short distance down the hallway. “I know what . . .
who
have been attacking our kind.”