by P. C. Cast
“That’s G-pa’s house.”
“Then why are we driving past it?”
“Because we aren’t going in there. I am,” Tate said. When Foster sucked air and opened her mouth to blast him, he held up his hand to stop her and tried to sound reasonable. “Think about it, Foster. It is the right plan. If they have both of us they get what they want, and we don’t have any bargaining power at all.”
“So instead you’re going to give yourself up and then what?”
Grinning, Tate gave her a sideways leer and said, “Then you’ll rescue me—as usual.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Tate, no.”
“Foster, it’s the only way. I’m going to pull off this highway in about a mile or so at a place called Cobb’s Cove. There’s a parking lot there where you can wait. It’s walking distance down the beach to G-pa’s property. I know this peninsula. I spent every summer vacation here. I’m going to sneak up to G-pa’s house and check things out. If I can get him out of there, I will. If not, I’ll come back to the cove and we can figure out what to do.”
“And what if you get caught?”
“I won’t get caught.”
Foster snorted.
Tate held up the burner phone that was a twin of the one in Foster’s pocket. “We have these. If I’m not back in an hour and you don’t have a text from me, call me. If Eve answers, you know I’m in trouble.”
“I don’t like it.”
“But it makes sense,” Tate said.
“It’s misogynistic. If I were a guy you wouldn’t be telling me to stay behind.”
“If you were a guy who wasn’t familiar with G-pa’s place, I would definitely be telling you to stay behind. Foster, you kick ass. There’s no doubt about that. But do you know how to get into and out of G-pa’s spare room upstairs?”
“Of course not,” Foster said.
“I do. I used to sneak out all the time when we spent summers here with G-pa. Had to bribe Bugsy, but still.” He reached across the center console and took Foster’s hand, raising it to his lips. “Trust me, okay?”
Foster scrunched down in her seat, folding her arms around herself. Tate thought she looked like an adorable, pissed-off little girl, but he valued his life and would never, ever tell her that.
“There it is, Cobb’s Cove drive.” Tate braked and turned left. “Damn, almost didn’t see it through all this rain.”
“Yeah, it let up for a while, but it’s definitely back now. Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your g-pa’s house?”
“Nah, this is fine.” They bumped down the road, slowing as it turned to a sandy parking lot that held only one other car. “Okay, you wait here, and—”
“Tate! Look!” Foster pointed down the beach, and Tate’s eyes followed her finger.
All hell was breaking loose down there! Tate saw two kids backing into the crashing waves, while Eve, Luke, and Mark faced them down, and a few yards away Matthew was circling …
“G-pa and Bugsy! Hell no, they’re not gonna mess with my g-pa!” Tate was out the door and moving so fast he didn’t expect Foster to keep up with him, let alone stop him. But suddenly there she was, standing in front of his face, with her hands on her hips.
“Foster, it’s G-pa!”
“I know.” She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. “You have to calm down, Tate. Remember what happened the last time we messed with air and didn’t have ourselves under control?”
Tate nodded shakily, his eyes darting to the beach. “Okay, okay. I hear you.”
“Breathe. Think. Do not let them get to you. And remember, I’m here. Right here with you. We’re going to get your g-pa away from them. Together.”
“Okay. You’re right.” Tate spoke more calmly as he focused more on Foster’s green eyes than what was happening on the beach.
“Ready?” she asked.
“I think so,” he said.
Foster tiptoed and kissed him softly. “How about now?”
“Now I know so.” It was then that the sandy ground beneath them shook. Tate’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, let’s go be superheroes and save the day.”
“Absolutely,” Foster said.
Side by side, they sprinted to the beach.
Foster
Foster ran after Tate, silently praying that he kept a handle on his temper.
“Tate! Son!” His g-pa shouted. Matthew had been approaching the old man and the waterlogged, giant dog, but at the sound of Tate’s voice the big dog’s ears and tail went up, and with a happy bark, she dashed past Matthew and ran to meet Tate.
“Good girl! Good Bugsy! What happened to you, old girl? You look terrible.” Tate crouched to greet the dog.
“Oof!”
Foster glanced down the beach in time to see Tate’s million-year-old g-pa lower his head, sprint at the Matthew man, and like he was playing college ball, knock the younger man smack on his butt as he raced past him straight to Tate’s side.
“G-pa!”
The old man pulled Tate into a fast bear hug, speaking urgently and quickly. “Eve’s bad news. She’s got the water kids Charlotte and Bastien over there with Luke, the second worst, and Mark, who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Matthew is a follower.”
“Welcome, Tate and Foster.” Eve strode away from the two strangers standing knee-deep in the roiling waves. Her brothers stiffened as she walked past, their heads swiveling between the sets of teens. “I’m so glad we’re all together now.”
“Hello, Eve,” Foster pinned her fists to her hips and planted her feet in the sand. “You bitch.”
“Is that any way for family to speak to each other?”
“I don’t have any family. They’re all dead, and I’m no part of whatever twisted thing you have going on.”
“All dead? Oh no, my sister, our father is alive and well and wants very much for us to be reunited.”
“A father doesn’t kidnap his children,” G-pa said with a disgusted shake of his head.
“We haven’t kidnapped anyone, old man,” Luke shouted.
“Fire boy, you’re a jackass,” G-pa spoke to him dismissively. “And I’ve listened to your lot scheme and plan for the past twenty-four hours. You’re here to take these kids from their lives—to steal them away to fulfill some fantasy your father has brainwashed you into believing. That’s not a family. That’s a delusion.”
Foster said nothing as she squinted against the wind and rain, her eyes following Bastien and Charlotte’s slow retreat toward the heaving waves.
Wait! Foster’s mouth formed the word, but it lodged in her throat. They should leave—sink beneath the storm and swim, swim, swim. Now she and Tate knew their names, had seen their faces. With Sabine’s help, they would find them again.
“Mark! Stop them!” Eve’s shout split the howling gusts.
Foster’s focus shattered, her hands tingling as air currents flickered to life around her. She had to do something. She wouldn’t be a spectator, not if it meant the Fucktastic Four would win.
A sharp blast of wind caught Eve and she turned, her features softening slightly as she closed her eyes and steadied herself. But there was something about the fullness of her cheeks; her wide-set, almond eyes; and the way she held her mouth that ghosted over Foster’s subconscious, haunting her with a familiarity that made her step forward, closer to Eve, closer to …
Cora?
Foster’s fists relaxed and the shimmering currents dissipated as she stared at a younger copy of the woman she called Mother.
Eve shifted, snapping her attention back to her brothers, and it was gone. Cora’s soft lines cracked like dry earth, exhuming Eve—hard and mean and ruthless.
“Mark, wake the fuck up and do something right!” Luke sneered.
With a commanding sweep of his arms, Mark directed the churning seas, “Bring them back!”
The water rippled and flexed, lifting tongue-like from the sand as it lapped toward Eve, cradl
ing Bastien and Charlotte. He clutched her against him as he rode the wave and pointed at the shore, at Foster. “Take us there, you!” The wave seized a moment as if weighing its options before changing course and heading toward her, Tate, Bugsy, and G-pa.
The wave slid closer, and water rushed around Foster’s feet. “Merci, ami.” Bastien bowed slightly as he and Charlotte stepped from the swell that had rolled out to present them.
The girl tripped and almost fell into Foster. Righting herself quickly, she brushed back a soggy, blond strand of hair and held her hand out as if she was at a cotillion.
“Charmed to meet you. I’m Charlotte and this is Bast—”
“Look around, Scarlet O’Hara. This is not the time for Southern charm.”
“But we’re glad we found the two of you,” Tate added.
“Goddamnit. Bugsy found ’em. But Foster’s right. Southern charm later. Let’s get out of here now,” G-pa said.
“Seriously?” Eve faced their group, her brothers tightening the defensive line behind her. “I know the four of you are special, but Jesus you’re stupid. Or shall we all just have a tea party here and become, wait, how do you say it—BFFs?”
Foster swiped at the droplets clinging to her lashes. “Are we done yet with the tight-ass-bitch routine? I’m pretty fucking tired of standing in a hurricane.”
“And you’re crazy, you,” Bastien muttered.
“He’s right. You’re insane. And we’re going home. Now.” Foster started to back away, and the group moved with her.
“So, are you all children and Foster is your mommy who makes decisions for you?” Eve’s voice filled with sarcasm.
“You were going to tie Mr. Bowen up and drag him down the sand after you told that horrid fire person to burn up his dog. I don’t need a mama to decide for me that I’m not going anywhere with you,” Charlotte was the first to speak up.
“Foster and I are together on this. We want nothing to do with any of you,” Tate said.
“Leave these kids alone and crawl back under whatever rock someone was stupid enough to lift off you,” G-pa grumbled.
“Old man, I have had all I can take of your mouth!” Luke raised his hands and as they began to glow, he started forward.
Tate moved fast, shoving his grandpa and Bugsy behind him. The four kids stood side by side, blocking Luke.
Foster took half a step forward. Wind followed her, lifting her wild red hair ominously. “I will blow that little hand fire of yours up your ass if you try that shit with us.” The sky above Foster darkened as air rotated around them, blowing out Luke’s twin flames like candles on a birthday cake.
“Oooh, so angry! So passionate! Father’s going to love dealing with you,” Eve said.
“Too bad he won’t get the chance,” Foster replied.
“Oh, sister. That’s just one of the many things you’re wrong about.” Then Eve lifted her foot and stomped. Hard.
The earth beneath them shivered as if they were standing on a plate of Jell-O, knocking Foster to her knees. Tate was there in an instant, taking her arm and helping her regain her feet.
“Get off me!” Foster jerked free. “I can handle her myself.” Undiscovered rage coiled in her gut. Her father had sent the Four. He’d put her and Cora through the anguish of losing him and the panic of running from his sick creations, and for what? So he could send the children he deemed worthy of his love to capture the only one who truly knew him as father?
Foster understood how he saw her.
She wasn’t deserving.
Message received.
Now she’d send a message of her own.
It started with her hair—the air lifting her long, wet strands as if gravity had stitched itself between the clouds. Currents blazed to life around her, snapping snake-like at the unrelenting rain as her arms lifted and her heels rose weightless from the sand.
“Cyclone,” Bastien breathed, and Foster tilted her chin toward the heavens.
The clouds were cement, pouring a thick, gray funnel above her like ice cream. Foster’s spine frosted and her feet settled against the earth.
Her hate would kill them.
Eve’s laughter filled the angry wind. “That’s right! Call the cyclone. Show us your power and tear up this pathetic excuse for a town.”
Tate’s hand slipped over Foster’s. Gently prying open her clenched fist, he wove his fingers between hers. “Not with anger, Foster. That’ll only bring more death—more sadness.”
“Anger’s never the way.” G-pa’s gruff voice sliced through the wind, opening a conduit directly to Foster’s heart.
“Shut it, old man,” Luke said.
“Yeah, you’re just jealous that anger’s doing all of this.” Matthew’s arm swept up at the malevolent funnel swirling above Foster. “Check it out, you fossil. This is real power.”
“No. This isn’t real power.” Charlotte was suddenly there, standing beside Foster. “Anger’s not the way because hate isn’t the strongest emotion.”
“That would be amour—love,” Bastien said, stepping up beside Charlotte.
“No, that would be childish bullshit,” Eve said. “But enough of this. Here’s the truth, precious little Foster. It’s your turn to act like a real daughter and be there for Father. At his side. Where he needs you and your powers.”
“Be there for him? Or be complicit in his crimes and madness like you’ve been?” Foster shot back at her.
“You know nothing, child,” Eve said.
At that moment Eve seemed to speak Cora’s words and Foster’s breath caught in her throat. As she stared at Eve, seeing the familiar stranger within her expression, Foster’s anger snuffed.
“I know the difference between right and wrong—helping and enabling. I don’t know what broke you, Eve, but I pity you,” Foster said.
Eve’s dark eyes flashed with something that might have been embarrassment, but it was gone too fast for Foster to truly name it. Then the older woman shrugged. “No matter. Being a good daughter is a learned behavior. Time for you to go to school, Foster.”
Foster’s grin split her face and had her laughing with amusement. “School? No thanks. Never liked it. I prefer to think for myself.”
“That’s enough. Matthew, Mark, Luke, back me up! Time to end this now!” With every other word she stomped her foot. The earth flinched and quivered in response.
Charlotte’s wet fingers found Foster’s. “What can we do?”
“I’ll fry you crispy!” Luke lunged forward, flames shooting from his glowing hands.
Foster didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, anchored to the ground by Tate and Charlotte, and blew a calming, soothing exhale. Wind crashed into fire. Luke groaned, his feet digging trenches in the sand as his flames suffocated.
“It’s love, right?” Charlotte shouted excitedly over Foster’s breath.
Luke fell to his knees, and Matthew rushed to his side. They had moments, seconds to work out a way to stay free, to survive.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Foster asked.
Charlotte held her free hand out to Bastien. As he twined his fingers with hers, she cleared her throat. “I love being a girl!” The thrashing waves changed direction, pulsing closer to shore, closer to the Fucktastic Four as Charlotte turned to Bastien.
“Liberté!” he hollered. Salt water rushed forward and pushed Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Eve’s feet out from under them. The Four splashed against the rapidly deepening water in a jumble of legs and arms and curses.
“And I love my grandma Myrtie!” Charlotte added. The ocean surged then, filling an invisible bowl and surrounding the Four in a bubble of good wishes and water.
“I love strawberries!” Tate winked at Foster, a small laugh twitching his lips as the Fucktastic Four beat against the skin of the slowly spinning circle.
Hand in hand, Foster led Tate, Charlotte, and Bastien to their creation. Beads of air shot from Eve’s mouth as she floated, kicking and screaming. Compassion twitched t
hrough Foster as she met Eve’s wild eyes.
Does who you love, love you back?
Foster wet her lips and took a deep breath. “I love my mother, my Cora. Now, Tate,” she glanced at her Clark Kent, his shirt billowing behind him, a bit cape-like, in the strong gusts. “Let’s make them fly.” They lifted their joined hands and flicked their wrists as if shooing a bug. The rippling ball surged up, then out, out, out, a liquid meteor arching past the horizon to disappear against the clearing sky.
* * *
The change was instantaneous. The rain stopped. The wind faded to a warm caress, the clouds clearing to reveal the aquamarine sky. Foster staggered, and Tate caught her, hugging her tightly as he whispered against her ear, “We did it! We did it!”
Someone coughed and they turned to face Charlotte, Bastien, and the waterlogged G-pa and his Bugsy.
“What now?” asked Charlotte as her gaze went from Foster to Tate, and back to Foster again.
“Well, we’d like you to come home with us—to our Fortress of Sauvietude,” Foster said, trying her best to sound friendly and reasonable and not psycho-killer-like.
“Yeah, it’s a long trip home, but a really good story. Promise,” Tate said.
“Are you asking or telling us to?” Bastien spoke up.
“Or forcing,” Charlotte added.
“Asking.” Foster shrugged, putting on a show of being unconcerned. “Unless you think you have a better shot on your own.”
“What she is trying to say is that we can’t promise the Fucktastic Four won’t find us,” Tate said. “We can’t promise you’ll be safe, but I give you my word that we think we have a better shot together than apart.”
“You can believe them,” Bowen said, resting his hand on his big dog’s head. “They’re like me. They don’t lie.”
Tate grinned at his g-pa before saying, “We’ll never lie to you. Or evade any of your questions. Ever.”
“But we’re not perfect,” Foster said. “And we don’t have all the answers. Actually, we don’t have many answers. But we’re not about threats or kidnapping or any of that garbage.”
Charlotte and Bastien shared a long look, then the girl returned her attention to Tate, Foster, and Bowen.