Candace walks toward the knife-sharp edge of the cliff, her movements so annoyingly graceful and deliberate. “You’re ensuring that certain events unfold as they should. Preventing others from occurring prematurely or altogether.”
Prematurely, or altogether… The words ring out in my mind like a demonic gong.
“That’s not an answer,” Logan says, following her. “That’s more mystical nonsense designed to avoid giving us actual information.”
“Some information is too dangerous to share freely,” she says with a forced smile.
“More dangerous than letting us stumble around blindly, changing things we don’t understand?” I snap.
Candace tosses a dark look out to the water, and for a moment, I see something calculating underneath the veneer she’s presenting. “You’re exactly where you need to be, doing exactly what you need to do.”
“According to whom?” Logan demands. “You? The Decision Council—who is also you? Some cosmic plan that nobody bothered to explain to us, written by fate—who is also you?”
She blinks his way. “According to the natural order of things.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I explode. “Can you give us one straight answer? Just one? Why can’t we go home?”
She leans my way and bares her fangs. Okay, so she bears a smile, but still. With her, it’s essentially the same thing. “Because your work here isn’t finished.”
“What work?” Logan’s voice is rising now, echoing off the rocky crags like a riot. “What are we supposed to be doing that’s so important it requires kidnapping us from our own lives?”
Candace’s smile becomes more pronounced, and I realize with growing horror that she’s enjoying this. She likes having us trapped, likes being the one with all the answers while we flounder around in confusion. We’re ants trapped under a glass, fireflies trapped in a jar, and she knows she’s strong enough to prevent us from ever hoping to leave.
“You’re stabilizing temporal fluctuations,” she says, as if that explains anything.
“By doing what, exactly?” I press. “Going to high school? Attending cheerleading practice? Watching Drake turn into a leather-clad dumbbell?” I have a feeling he’s not the only dumbbell around here.
“Every action creates a ripple. You’re ensuring those ripples move in the right direction.”
“The right direction for whom?” Logan asks. “And since when can the past be changed, anyway? That’s one of the founding tenets of light driving, Candace. You can’t change the big things. The timeline self-corrects. The ripples mean nothing, or at least they shouldn’t.”
“Exactly,” she says with satisfaction. “The major events remain intact. A few minor behavioral adjustments here and there are perfectly normal and expected. Nothing to worry about at all.”
“Minor behavioral adjustments?” I repeat incredulously. “My parents are planning to retire early and go on a series of back-to-back luxury cruises—essentially wiping one of my sisters from existence.” I shake my head at her. “You know darn well that Demetri is that child’s father, but still. My mother lives to procreate with just about anyone. And I can’t mention enough that Gage is about to throw himself at Chloe Bishop. These aren’t minor adjustments—this is a complete personality overhaul for half the people we know.”
“Skyla—”
“No!” I cut her off, stepping closer to the edge where she’s teetering—and if she couldn’t fly, I would so push her off. “I’m done with this cryptic maternal act. I’m done with the vague explanations and the non-answers. We want to go home.Now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
I blink back as if she slapped me. “Why not?”
She lifts her chin a notch as the wind picks up. “Because I said so.”
The words hang in the air between us like a challenge, and I feel something cold settle in my stomach. This isn’t about cosmic balance or temporal stability. This is about Candace Messenger having complete control. Truly, there is nothing new under the sun.
“We’re leaving,” Logan says, reaching for my hand. “Candace, whatever game you’re playing, we’re done.”
“Oh, my dear children,” she says, and her voice carries a chillthat has nothing to do with the ocean breeze. “We’re not done until I say we’re done.”
The temperature around us drops about twenty degrees, and the strange blue light in the clouds begins to pulse faster. The ground beneath our feet begins to tremble, and I can hear thunder building in the distance.
“Candace,” I start, but she’s already fading away.
“You will remain here until your purpose is fulfilled,” she says, her voice echoing as the wind begins to whip around us with enough supernatural force to make the trees shudder and all of Paragon groan. “Whether you understand that purpose or not.”
“Like hell we will,” I shout over the growing storm.
