Eve shot him a “be quiet” look before continuing. “Okay, I’m going to give Father this good news and have him get the jet ready. I’m going to ask for wheels up in just a couple of hours. Mark, how’s the weather coming?”
“I’ve been increasing the waves in the Gulf every day—focusing on the Galveston area because we know Charlotte is enrolled in Texas A&M this semester. Surfers are flocking to the Gulf, and since Bastien left home without one damn credit card or cell phone, we can only hope that the waves are calling him there, too.”
“They are,” Matthew said firmly. “Tate and Foster were drawn together by my manipulation of air in Missouri. It’s going to be the same for the water, fire, and earth kids.”
“It better be.”
The four of them jumped in guilty surprise as Dr. Stewart soundlessly entered the cottage. Eve studied him as he moved toward them. He looked rough—thin and ashy-skinned. His usually meticulously trimmed goatee was scraggly and his linen pants and flowered button-down shirt were stained and wrinkled.
It had been two days since he’d last drained crystal power from her, but it looked like he hadn’t had a fix in weeks.
He’s getting worse … so much worse, she thought.
“Father!” Eve rose gracefully and hurried to his side. “I was just going to come to you and tell you the wonderful news. Our Matthew found Tate Taylor’s grandfather!”
The mean, haunted look in Stewart’s gaze softened slightly. “Matthew, well done my boy, well done. Where is he, and are Tate and Foster with him?”
“Linus Bowen is in Galveston, Texas, which is a happy coincidence! It’s going to be like killing two birds with one stone.” Matthew beamed under his father’s rarely given praise.
Stewart dismissed Matthew with barely a nod and turned to Eve. “Which means Tate and Foster aren’t in Galveston.”
“Father, it means we’re not sure about Tate and Foster, but we are sure about Charlotte and Bastien,” Eve said.
“Charlotte? The kid I altered’s name is Charlie. Charlie Davis. You have the wrong teenager.”
“Charlotte used to be Charlie. She’s transitioning from male to female and hasn’t used her birth name for years, remember? Or are you having memory problems?” Mark said. Eve tried to catch his eye—tried to tell Mark with a look that now was not the time to test Father—but her brother had locked his gaze with his father’s and didn’t even glance her way.
“No, Mark. I did not remember. And why? Not because I’m having memory problems as you call it, but because his or her gender preference is irrelevant. His, her, or its bond with water is all that should be important to me or to you.”
Mark had been sitting beside Luke. Slowly, resolutely, he stood—squared his broad shoulders—and faced Rick Stewart.
“They’re kids,” Mark spoke quietly, but there was no denying the anger that colored his voice. “Barely eighteen. Not even adults yet. But we’re tracking them and setting traps to draw them out like they’re animals. For what, Father? For the chance that maybe you can create an antidote to my hallucinations, Matthew’s disappearing body, Luke’s burnout, and Eve’s crystal tumors?”
Eyes glittering with rage, Stewart opened his mouth to retort. Eve sucked in a shocked breath as Mark barreled on, speaking over his brilliant, mad, and quite dangerous father.
“We caused that disaster in Missouri. We did! It’s because of us that Tate Taylor’s parents and a lot of innocent people are dead. It’s because of us Tate and Foster’s worlds have been ripped apart, and before we tear up anyone else’s world—cause anyone else’s death—I want you to tell me how the possibility of helping the four of us is worth that, especially to you.”
“What do you mean by especially to me?”
“Father, I think what Mark means—” Eve began, but Mark cut her off.
“No, Eve. This time I’m going to speak for myself.”
“Hey, just so you know, Mark is speaking for himself, and only himself,” Luke said, after he took a long swig of beer. “I’m cool with there just being a chance that those kids can help us.”
“At the price of people’s lives?” Mark asked Luke.
Luke shrugged. “I don’t know them. Why should it matter to me?”
Mark looked from Luke to Matthew. “What about you?”
“Hey, all I did was call that wall cloud to Missouri. How was I to know air was so pissed it caused a tornado—and then those two kids threw the damn thing and it splintered? As far as I’m concerned, they’re responsible for those deaths, not me. Not us.”
“But it could happen again. I’m calling waves and altering currents and tides. I’m creating the perfect situation for a major hurricane. Charlotte and Bastien are going to be drawn to this change in water weather, and they could affect it like Tate and Foster did air. Those kids have no experience and no understanding of what’s happening. People could die. A lot of people,” Mark said.
“And I could disappear forever someday if we don’t bring Tate and Foster here,” Matthew said, turning back to his computer. “I’m with Luke. I’m not going to try to hurt a bunch of people, but if people get hurt, or even killed, because we’re trying to save ourselves—so be it. They’re strangers. We’re not.”
Mark faced Eve, obviously waiting for her input, which usually balanced whatever nonsense Matthew and Luke spouted.
“Leave Eve out of it.” Stewart’s voice was like death. “And I’ll answer your question, even though you didn’t answer mine.”
“Oh, I’ll answer yours. When I asked why this is all worth it, especially to you, I meant that you don’t seem to care much about anything anymore except Eve’s crystals. Are you even up to the work you’ll have to do if we wrench these kids from their lives and imprison them here, with us, on this goddamned island jail?”