Frostbite (#4 Destroyers Series) Page 2

  Her mother was going to freak enough even without Paul there. That would be without telling her that Janelle was a Tempest. Which, unfortunately, they had to do, too.

  "Your mom knows me, Leslie," she said, fingering the vial of ocean water in her pocket. Janelle would need it to prove the reality of Tempests to her mother. She wouldn't believe the rest otherwise. Her friend looked smaller than usual in her seat, even in her tan business suit.

  That would need some explaining, too. Yes, Mom. Janelle's the Tempest leader. She got the title when her biological mother lost hers.

  Mel pulled into her driveway, and the familiar pots of petunias greeted them. They looked smashed down from a downpour that must have moved through earlier today. Leslie's skin grew tight and goose bumps rose along her arms, half with the knowledge of what she would face and half with the thought that there might be thunderstorms in the area. "I wish there was another way."

  There wasn't, and Janelle didn't need to tell her that. Andrina knew her address--and how to get to her mother. That monster would do that to get to her, sooner or later. The only other way to get her mother to move would be to burn her house down or something, but that would make Leslie exactly what she didn't want to be.

  Exactly what she might become if she didn't get away from civilization before her first Outbreak.

  A destroyer.

  A killer.

  A knife of panic stabbed through her chest.

  Her heart twitched around it, trying to get away.

  Her first Outbreak--

  Janelle opened her door and stepped out into Leslie's yard.

  Leslie sucked in a breath, forcing the invisible knife out. She reached for her door, scanning the sky for anything dark. Puffy clouds floated lazily past the sun. It was a nice spring day. For now. But ever since Andrina had gone all storm goddess, the weather was unpredictable. The news seemed bleaker every day. Andrina could appear under any storm, so long as she was out of the sunlight.

  Leslie had another reason to avoid storms now, too.

  She checked her reflection one more time in the rearview mirror as she slid across the seat and out of the car. Paste for skin. Check. Red hair, scraggly from traveling. Check. Her eyes. Check. They were now brown with black flecks, no longer the green they had been when she'd left her house for spring break three weeks ago. Every time she caught them in the mirror, it felt as if her soul itself had morphed into something else entirely. Something no longer human.

  Maybe it had.

  Leslie stood back as Janelle knocked on her door. It felt odd, waiting on the porch of her house like this, like it wasn't hers anymore.

  “Leslie,” her mother breathed from the crack of the door before it had even opened all the way. There was only a small smear of anger in her mother's voice. Not enough anger for her getting home nearly a week late. Not nearly enough.

  A new gold bracelet slid down her mother's wrist and sagged around her fingers as she opened the screen door.

  “Charlotte.” Janelle stood in front of the door, taking over and using all the leadership skills she'd been forced to gain since September. “We need to talk.”

  Her mother's face appeared in the doorway. Her frosty blue eye shadow caught the sunlight as she stared at her best friend. Never before had it looked so cold. “Janelle? I didn't realize you were coming back.” She squinted and Leslie fell out of existence for a second. “Why are you in a suit?”

  The anger was gone from her mother now.

  It shouldn't be.

  One week late getting home and her mother wouldn't even glare at her from the corner of her eye.

  “It's a long story,” Janelle explained, taking on a commanding tone that she'd been miles away from in the car. It was another reminder that she was still Tempest High Leader and so much more than the little blond sixteen-year-old she appeared to be. “Let us in. I have something to show you before we explain.”

  Her mother's eyes narrowed in confusion. “Okay. I don't understand this.” At last, Leslie got a glance, but only a short one. It wasn't anywhere near good enough. “My daughter's best friend shows up on my doorstep in a suit, one week later than my daughter was supposed to get back. Yes, do tell me your story." She batted one of her curls from her eye and waved them both inside her cave.

  Leslie looked down at the brick foundation of the house before Janelle could step through the threshold. The time for reassuring words was over. The first warm tears started to rim the corners of her eyes, slowly building up in a flood that threatened to spill out any second. She wanted to say something to her mother--anything--but her ability for speech had shut down.

  It only did that when things got bad.

  Mel kept the car running in the driveway. The purr of its engine grew louder in her head. Leslie resisted an urge to run back to it and beg him to drive away.

  Janelle vanished into the darkness of the living room before Leslie could step after her. It was one of the hardest steps she'd ever taken. She didn't want to watch her worlds merge so violently like this. But she was an Outbreaker now. There was no peaceful way it was going to happen. This was the last stop before the got on the highway to her new life, and she didn't want her old one to end like this.

  Feet scuffled inside. Her mother cried out as Janelle shoved her back. Her yells failed to mask a crash and a leather creak as she fell into the couch.

  Leslie jumped at the sound. She'd expected it, though. It was going as planned. Janelle had said it was best to break the news as soon as possible, instead of dragging it out for minutes and minutes, and she wasn't wasting time.

  Blinking, Leslie rushed through the threshold and into the dark living room, where Janelle stood over her mother, pinning her down with one hand and reaching into her pocket with the other.

  Her mother struggled against Janelle's grip, shock widening all of her features. "Janelle, what are you doing? Let me up. Leslie!" An empty margarita glass toppled to the floor next to her, leaving its partner on the coffee table. Her mother must have invited Brett over last night again and settled down in front of the television.

  All while not knowing where her daughter was.

  The thought squeezed every drop of sympathy out of Leslie's veins.

  Leslie stood. Watched. Took the scene in as Janelle produced the vial of ocean water, uncapped it, and poured the contents over her head.

  It worked at awakening her Tempest powers, even here, hundreds of miles from the ocean. A stiff breeze snapped through the living room. The second margarita glass toppled to the floor and rolled across the carpet.

  "Les--" her mother started, gaze shifting from the sudden windstorm in the room and back to Janelle.

  Leslie couldn't move. Janelle glanced back at her, just long enough for her to see the swirling storm clouds in her eyes, the hurricane eyes that revealed what every Tempest truly was. But it couldn't hide the very human regret and fear trying to hide underneath them. There was no smile anywhere within miles of Janelle right now.

  Her best friend turned away and stared hard at her mother.

  Leslie braced herself.

  Her mother froze, stiffening against the couch, mouth gaping open as she took it in.

  Janelle's voice roared through the room, a mixture of crashing waves and screaming wind. Leslie leapt back towards the door, both with the horror of her best friend's true nature and the horror that she wasn't much different now.

  "Charlotte," she said, words riding on the storm in the room. "We need to talk."

  The wind began to die down just as her mother started to scream.

  * * * * *

  "This is not my idea of humor, young lady." Her mother jabbed a finger in Leslie's direction, arm trembling as her bracelet dangled with disbelief. She sent a sideways glare at Janelle, whose eyes had long returned to their normal gray. "Get out of my house. I don't know how you pulled that off."

  Janelle took one step back towards the door.

  The panic swelled into Leslie's chest again
like an inflating balloon. It was up, down, and up again, a crazy ride that she wanted off of. Her voice box wanted to shut down and curl in on itself, but she couldn't let it. "You've said that ten times now. We're not lying to you, Mom. Tempests exist. There's one for every hurricane that's ever happened. I know it's a lot to wrap your head around."

  An explosion started to rise up inside her mother. Crimson flooded into her cheeks. Her lips pursed together as it built and finally reached its breaking point. "People don't turn into storms!" Her mother's face twisted into a mask of denial. Of a fierce need to believe this was all a lie.

  She had never glared at Leslie like that before.

  "We're…we're telling you this for your own safety." Leslie was falling apart, a glass statue cracking across every joint and nerve. "Just lis--"

  "No." Her mother turned away, as if Leslie were one of her exes begging for a second chance. Her back stiffened like an angry cat's. With a sigh, her mother picked up the fallen margarita glasses and slammed them back on the table. A hairline crack appeared along one of them.

  Brett's, Leslie hoped.

  "I don't know what this girl has been feeding you, but you're not some Outbreaker. You might seriously need some psychological help."

  This girl. Janelle wasn't even deserving of a name anymore. Leslie shot an apologetic glance at her friend. Janelle returned it. She wasn't sure which one of them felt worse about this.

  A march towards the kitchen signaled the truth behind her mother's words.

  "Charlotte--" Janelle started, heading after her.

  "Mom!" The word burned, jumping out of her throat. Leslie ran for her before she could find the phone book, forcing every sentence out, not giving her time to retaliate. "You know we're telling the truth after what you saw. You can't deny that. We both have to move away. The Andrina I told you about will try to hurt you to get to me. If she finds me, she'll rip me out of my body and make me serve her forever. If she gets me, it'll be like a permanent Outbreak and I'll have to do what she wants all the time. She's hunting down all the Tempests and Outbreakers to do that to. I might even end up hurting a lot of people right here in Flint."

  Her mother swatted her away. "Stop!"

  Leslie could have stopped her easily with her new Outbreaker strength, just by taking her arm and holding her there, but her limbs failed as she staggered back and the will melted out of them. She bumped into the wall, jabbing her elbow into the edge of the counter.

  She'd been swatted away by the one she needed most right now.

  Her mother seized the table as if she wanted to flip it over. Her back rose up and down with each breath. In. Out. Loud. Deafening. "Leslie. Go to your room." Her voice was low, dangerous.

  "I can't--"

  "Charlotte," Janelle broke in again, framed by the kitchen doorway. She stood tall, no longer a teenager but a trained speaker. "Your daughter is right. We need to protect you. I know this is scary, but Andrina is on the loose. If a thunderstorm arrives, she could appear and take you captive to try to manipulate her. She thinks Leslie's going to be a powerful Outbreaker, which makes her a very big target."

  Another breath, quieter this time, came from her mother. Her back fell as if a cruise ship had settled on top of it. Her mother loosened her grip on the edge of the table, and color rushed back into her hands. Leslie resisted the urge to rush over and comfort her. If another swat came, she wasn't sure she could take it right now.

  "My daughter isn't a monster," she managed at last. It was a plea, not an argument.

  "You're right. She isn't," Janelle said. "But she is an Outbreaker now, and you're going to have to work with that."

  Leslie flinched. Part of her wanted to back into the wall and stay there, unseen. It wasn't easy hearing it out loud like that.

  Janelle remained focused on her mother, as if scared she would try something crazy any second. "Trust me, the majority of them don’t try to harm anyone, and most don't. Many go their entire lives without hurting anyone. It's why most of them live out in the plains, where the human population is more spread out. But there are accidents, and people do die. Leslie won't be able to control her first Outbreaks. It could be a month from now when they start. Or it could be a year. I'm not sure. My point is, both of you need to leave Flint and find a place far from other people. You're welcome to come with us."

  Leslie watched her mother slowly turn to face her.

  Her makeup smeared around her eyes, the blue like the runoff from a melting glacier. "What did that Paul do to you?"

  The sound was somehow worse than the anger and the denial. Leslie knew that her mother would probably never accept Paul, and wouldn't accept Janelle after this, either. But all this hadn't really been Paul's fault.

  It was hers. She was the reason for her mother's pain. Nausea gripped at her throat, and she could barely speak for fear of throwing up.

  "I made him turn me," Leslie croaked. "It drained his powers. He was about to have an Outbreak and hit a stadium that had a huge concert in it. Andrina had him tied up and he couldn't escape. By giving me his breath we saved twenty thousand people."

  Her words fell on the kitchen as the fridge hummed away in its own universe.

  Leslie wished her mother wasn't facing her, because now she could see the ice going back up. Her eyes dried. Her lips pursed tightly together, forming a narrow line.

  "I can't believe you."

  I made him turn me. That was all her mom had chosen to hear.

  This wasn't denial anymore. It was something else.

  Disgust.

  Leslie nearly gagged on it. "Mom, please--"

  "We're not going anywhere," she said, taking a step away from Janelle and not daring a look at her. "You're staying here. We're not exactly in Tornado Alley. If you go there, do you realize what will happen to you?" She spoke as if she and Janelle had just suggested the stupidest idea in the world. Her mother wagged her finger, spittle forming at the corners of her mouth. "And I don't want you talking about this with any of the neighbors. This doesn't leave the room. You hear me?"

  The familiar flutter of panic returned to Leslie's chest. "I'm not safe from Outbreaks here!" She glanced at Janelle for help. This was far worse than taking Paul's breath. Watching Andrina turn into a storm goddess. Nearly losing her physical form forever. "Flint isn't safe from tornadoes. It's happened before. You know that one that happened back in the fifties? The one that killed over a hundred people? If I stay, it could happen ag--" She choked as she realized what she was saying.

  Her mother gave her no time to recover. "I said, go to your room! We're not going to discuss this anymore." She whirled around to face Janelle from the other side of the kitchen, but lowered her voice. "Please. Just go."

  "Not without you and Leslie," she demanded, stony-faced. "We need to make sure that you're both safe."

  Her mother's pose grew lower and more defensive. "Why should I trust you?" She winced, probably remembering Janelle's eyes. Leslie glanced to find a few papers still on the floor. Receipts from department stores, mostly.

  "Don't you remember the first time your daughter got kidnapped? From here?" Janelle asked, waving her hand around the room. "Oh, yes. You wouldn't buy the explanation that some guy tried to take her across the country."

  Leslie shuddered. The memory of Kevin, Andrina's henchman, cutting through her window late at night was too much. Her mother hadn't believed a word of it, and had even blamed her for cutting the screen herself. She blinked away the panic and took a breath. She had Janelle here for backup. There wouldn't be another chance to say this. "Yes, Mom. The time you said I must have run off with Trent last year? Well, I have news. The bad Tempests actually kidnapped me and tried to use me to manipulate Janelle. You know, the way Andrina will want to use you?" She was shaking, she realized. Not with panic now, but with rage. "You know what? You're selfish and all you care about is what others think of you. I don't give a crap if you come with us or take off with Brett. I have to leave and you need to, too!"


  A dark cloud came over her mother's face as she glanced at Janelle out of the corner of her eye. At the same time, she took a small step farther away from her. "I'm not getting in the car with a human hurricane. How many has she killed, Leslie?"

  "That's Janelle." She couldn't say any more. Her best friend had killed half a dozen people in hurricane form, but it hadn't been on purpose. Tempests had no choice but to transform when it was their time. If they didn't, the world's weather would fall apart and kill more people. But she didn't have time to explain that.

  Janelle was already backing out of the room. Her mother had found her sore spot, and the wound was throbbing. This was the last straw. Her mother, who had known Janelle for years, had completely turned on her.

  Leslie took her turn standing up tall. "I'm going to go pack now. Janelle, can you help me?"

  Janelle's look of gratitude was her answer.

  Her mother didn't try to stop either of them. Nor did she take a single step after them or say a word. Janelle's presence probably had something to do with that.

  They made their way down the hall and into Leslie's room, which waited untouched with dust collecting on her computer desk and shadows gathering in the corners. Her last homework assignment, left open to the middle of her notebook. Her chess ribbons that her mother thought didn't match the decor in the living room. Her laptop, left open with all the power long since run out of it. She'd take as much as she could right now. The thought of coming back here again to an empty house and her room untouched made her heart fall down to the bottom of the universe.