The Dysasters (The Dysasters #1)(12)

“It’ll be fine. The girl has to be here. Eve said she saw her drive away in a red truck with the boy after Cora died. This is the only place she and Cora could’ve been staying. We’ll just knock on all the doors until we find them, and then we’ll grab ’em,” Matthew said.

“It’s not fine,” Luke ran his hands nervously through his strange white hair, causing sparks to sizzle and crack dangerously in the air surrounding him. “Those fucking kids screwed up everything. We should’ve moved the second we spotted Cora and Foster, and since we didn’t every damned news station in the Midwest is going to be reporting this newest disaster.”

“Calm down, Luke. Lighting shit on fire isn’t a smart idea right now,” Mark told his brother as he took a step back, out of range of Luke’s sparks. “Drink this and cool down.” Automatically he reached into the travel pack he carried slung across his shoulders and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade, tossing it to Luke. He brushed his long, dark hair back from his face, enjoying the slick, damp feel of it. Water—anything that’s flooded with water feels good. Then he shook himself mentally and took in both men with one gaze. “What happened couldn’t be helped,” Mark said sternly.



“That’s bullshit! We should’ve grabbed Foster right away and taken Tate after the game,” Luke insisted before he upended the Gatorade and chugged it in one long gulp.

“No. Like Eve said. And Father told us. Wait until Tate and Foster meet. To see what happened. Then take them if they manifest their element.” As usual, Matthew’s speech got choppy as he became emotional. “I called the tornado like Father said. I didn’t know those two kids would mess it up. Be so powerful!” The air around him swirled, lifting his shaggy, nondescript hair, and his arms begin to flicker in and out of sight, like he was part of a cheap cartoon that had only been half drawn.



Mark stopped and faced the two men he called brothers. He drew a deep breath, aware that he was standing in a pool of water that had nothing to do with the storm that raged behind them. God, I hate it when Eve leaves me in charge of these two. I swear, someday I’m going to fucking leave. Just walk away. Disappear. Be by myself. Live a normal life. Just the thought of it calmed him, and his footprints immediately dried. “Settle down. Both of you. Control your elements.” He skewered Matthew with his dark gaze. “Air has already screwed enough up today.”

“But I didn’t—”

“We know.” Mark silenced him. “It was the kids. But now this is all you.” Mark gestured around them at the wailing wind.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ve got this. I can do this.” Matthew closed his eyes, obviously concentrating, and rubbed his arms as if he was cold. Slowly, the roiling clouds and the gusting wind began to dissipate—in time with the color reappearing in his arms.

“And you get a handle on your temper,” he told Luke. “The last thing we need is a fire to draw attention away from that mess,” Mark jerked his chin in the direction of the distant stadium. “To this mess. Plus, we don’t have time to hook you up to an IV. So, handle yourself, Fire.”

Luke grunted at him, but he also drew several deep, calming breaths and the sparks that shimmered around his every movement faded into nothingness.

“All right. Let’s start knocking on doors,” Mark said.

“What are we gonna do when we find them?” Matthew asked.

Mark blew out a long, frustrated breath. “What we were sent here to do. We’re going to tell them they have to come with us.” He raised his fist and pounded on the first door.

“Who are you and what do you want?” came a reedy old woman’s voice from inside the room.

“Sorry, ma’am. I’m just looking for my daughter. She’s only fourteen, but she looks twenty-one, if you know what I mean. I think she’s here with some scumbag boy.”

“Not in this room she ain’t! Go on—get!” the old woman shouted. “And take better care of your home business. Women only go bad when men act like fools!”

Mark ignored her as he and his brothers moved to the next door.

“What if they won’t?” Luke said.

“Won’t what?” Mark knocked on the next door.

Luke shot him an annoyed look. “Won’t go with us.”

The door opened, but only as wide as the cheap chain would allow. “What?” a man’s deep voice bellowed from the crack.

“Sorry, sir. I’m looking for my daughter. She’s a runaway,” Mark said.

The man slammed the door in Mark’s face. Maintaining a tenuous hold on his temper, he moved on to the next room, saying, “They’re kids. Barely eighteen. We’re adults—older and smarter than them. We do what Eve said, tell Foster her adoptive father is alive, needs her, and sent us to get her. She’ll come with us. And Tate’s a teenage boy. He’ll chase along after Foster. It’s just not that damn difficult.” Mark spoke grimly, moving to the next crappy-looking door.

“Yeah, I would’ve said the same thing before they caused a town to be leveled,” Luke said. “I’m thinking it might not be so easy to get them to do what we want them to do now.”

Mark shook his head. “They don’t know how to do any of that. Not really. What happened back there was an accident—an accident we set into motion for them. Period.” He knocked and waited. Nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing. “Okay, room twelve is empty. Remember that. We mighta beat her here. That storm’s a lot to drive through, especially for a kid.” They moved to the next door. “And we have to remember they’re scared. They have no real idea about what’s happening. As far as we know they think those tornadoes were after them. And that’s good for us. They need us to teach them how to control their powers. Until then they’re a danger to themselves as well as others.”