The Dysasters (The Dysasters #1)(65)

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?”



Eve took a step away from Father and reached down deep, invoking her element. She did as Mark recommended—as she had been doing for the past couple of weeks. Eve didn’t call what Father would want to syphon from her. Eve called what she needed to ground herself, to think clearly and powerfully. Come, calming, cooling rose quartz. Take away negativity and reinstate love … When she felt the swell of pain under her right shoulder blade, and the wonderful infilling of sweet, soothing calmness and self-love, Eve moved quietly back to her father’s side, willing quartz’s essence to share itself, just a little, with him as her father squared off with her favorite brother.

Eve saw Stewart’s shoulders relax an almost imperceptible amount, and the reasonable tone in his voice had her feeling waves of relief.

“I’ll ignore that you slandered your sister. You’re not yourself, Son. Your brothers would tell you that if you let them. You want assurance that the new children—the young pairs I’ve bonded with the elements—are going to help me create an antidote to your Frill?” Stewart chuckled low. “There is no such assurance because there is no such antidote. I never intended to create one. But the children … they are your salvation. They are all of our salvation.”

“As usual, you’re not making any sense,” Mark said.

“As usual, you’re not smart enough to keep up with me,” Stewart flung at him. “Listen with your mind, like a man. Not with your emotions, like a child. I created the new elementals in pairs. They are meant to work as a team—to control their element together. Because of how I fashioned them, I know they won’t have the same problems you four do. They share their powers. Now, imagine this—the water pair comes here and meets their benevolent Uncle Mark. You teach them how to call their element, and in return every time they manipulate water, they stabilize you, much like they do for each other. The malevolent Frill fade back into the abyss of your imagination from which they came. But you’re stronger than the two kids, older than them—supposedly wiser than them. You will control the element through them, and there will be nothing they can do about it.”

Eve watched Mark blink in confused surprise. “Wait, that’s all there is to it?”

“No, of course that’s not all there is to it,” Stewart said. “Once you’re stabilized, there is nothing stopping you from using your water bond. Think of it, Mark. With the help of those teenagers stabilizing you, water could transform the Mojave Desert into a fertile basin. Or let’s say a farmer in Oklahoma needs rain so his alfalfa crop won’t fail—he calls us and water comes to his rescue.” Stewart’s eyes were bright, almost feverish when he turned his gaze to Luke and Matthew. “Napa Valley’s grapes are threatened by a frost? No problem. Fire works with air and the harvest is saved.”