Page 72 of The Dysasters

Rick Stewart’s expression went from manic to slyly manipulative. Hesmiled smoothly. “With the money the world will be forced to pay us, you can buy your yacht and live on the ocean like you’ve dreamed since you were a little boy.”

Eve saw Mark’s start of surprise. He looked down at her. She smiled and nodded. “See, it’s been Father’s plan all along for us to have our dreams come true. Luke can live on Hawaii, surrounded by volcanoes.”

“Yes, Father! Yes!” Luke exclaimed, downing his beer in one big gulp.

“Matthew can move to Oklahoma City and live directly in Tornado Alley,” Eve continued.

“That’s more like it!” Matthew said, though he barely looked up from his computer.

“And me. I’m moving to Manitou Springs, Colorado, and buying a mansion on the side of Pike’s Peak. It’ll have an Olympic-sized freshwater pool so you can be comfortable whenever you visit,” Eve finished happily.

“That’s a great pipe dream,” Mark said. “But how are we going to scatter and still control the weather?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Stewart said. “The four of you can go anywhere you want,afteryou bring the eight new elementals here to me. They stay. You go. Everyone wins.”

“Everyone? What about the kids? I don’t think they’re going to believe it’s a win for them,” Mark said.

“Father will fix up the island,” Eve said quickly. “They’re kids, Mark. They’re going to love living on a private island with their own cottages and—no bedtimes—no curfews—no rules.”

“Well, no rules except that they have to remain here, for their safety, and they must do a little weather tweaking when we need them to,” Stewart finished for her. “So, is that answer enough to your question, Son?”

Mark’s gaze grabbed and held Eve’s. She knew what he was searching for in her eyes. He wanted to see that she was still on his side and willing to stand up to Father with him, but she couldn’t,wouldn’tgive him what he needed. Not when her freedom was so close.

“Everything is going to be okay, Mark. I promise,” Eve told him.

Mark blew out a long, sad breath and said, “For us, maybe. But for thoseeight kids and the rest of the world?” He shook his head and pushed past them, slamming the cottage door behind him.

When Eve started to go after him, Stewart snagged her wrist. “Let him go. You know he’s always been soft. You’re going to have to watch him, Eve.” Then Stewart’s hard gaze included Matthew and Luke. “You’re all going to have to watch him. Or he’ll spoil this for all of us—for all of you.”

“We understand, Father,” Luke said. “We’ll watch him.”

“Yeah, he won’t mess this up for us,” Matthew said.

“Eve?” Stewart turned to her.

“Father, you know I’ll always take care of Mark.”

“Yes, but taking care of him and being sure he doesn’t self-destruct and take all of us down with him are two very different things,” Stewart said.

“Like I told Mark, everything is going to be okay. Now, I’m going to do as you asked and go to him and be sure he isn’t self-destructing.” Eve began to walk past Stewart, but he didn’t release her wrist.

“I’ll walk a little with you, my Nubian princess.”

Eve looked into her father’s eyes and saw there his insatiable need. “Yes, Father,” she answered obediently, allowing him to lead her from the cottage and away from Luke and Matthew and Mark so that he could drain the crystal she had just conjured and get his fix.

Someday I will be free of Father, and if that means eight teenagers must take our places here—then so be it.

21

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte could barely contain her excitement. Today, in her Intro to Marine Ecology class, she was going to be able to get out on the Gulf for the first time since she’d arrived at the Texas A&M’s campus. She studied herself carefully—oh, so carefully—in the full-length mirror in her dorm room.

Her hair was good tied neatly back in a high ponytail and woven through the rear opening of her Wildfang cap that declared FEMINISTon the brim. Her makeup was perfect—not too much, but also enough to cover her imperfections and bring out her long, thick eyelashes. She was wearing a long-sleeved swim shirt over her sports bra. The fit was almost as flattering as the turquoise color that reflected her eyes so well.

The class had been told to wear swim shirts and swimsuit bottoms. They’d be on and in the water all day. But Charlotte couldn’t make herself wear a bikini bottom. All day. In front of strangers. So, she’d opted for one of the oversized swim shirts she always wore and a tasteful pair of pink boy shorts. Still, she studied herself—front, back, side. And had to stifle the urge to cut class.

“No, you will not cut class, especially a class that is held on the ocean!” Charlotte spoke sternly to herself in the mirror. Then she read aloud from the postcard Grandma Myrtie had sent her. Charlotte had taped it to her mirrorso she would see it every single day. It was her grandma’s favorite quote by the timeless Eleanor Roosevelt: