Footsteps thud past the open door. “You said that about Star Passe,” Zarius calls out as he continues to the kitchen.
Tristan hauls the covers over his head. “And Twin Buttes,” he mutters loud enough to be heard.
“Stop it, you two,” Tess admonishes, the smile apparent in her voice. “It’s important to be optimistic.”
Because they haven’t found anything that resembles a clue that other Zodiac Heirs exist. That any of them actually made it to Earth.
But Tristan doesn’t say it aloud. The last time he said something along those lines, the edges of Tess’s smile had wilted.
Over the years, Zarius has gotten frustrated, slamming suitcases shut as they packed to move to the next city or town. Tristan has become impatient, knowing they’re going to run out of time eventually.
But Tess has never lost hope. “Fate brought Zarius and I together so we could raise and love you. Fate will bring us the other Heirs,” she’s always said calmly.
But the recent flicker of light in her eyes had been far more concerning than the dead ends or stones that refuse to glow, no matter how many hands they put them in.
Tess is worried.
And that’s never happened before.
Tristan pushes himself to a sitting position, the covers falling to his waist. “Fate had better hurry up or I’m going to kick its ass.”
Tess grins. “I’ve seen your new moves, but I’d put my money on fate.” She heads to the door. “Breakfast in ten. You don’t want to be late.”
Tristan flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This is one of the nicer places they’ve stayed at. The paint isn’t peeling. You can’t hear the neighbors through the walls. It’s actually a house and not an apartment. And it’s not because they can’t afford it. The pod Tristan arrived in was loaded with precious metals and gems. If they wanted, they could live off the radar the rest of their days.
But they can’t.
They have twelve other Zodiac Heirs to find, considering two are Gemini twins. The Universe depends on it.
So they move from one place to another, taking whatever accommodation is easy and convenient. Searching. Hoping.
So far failing.
The sweet smell of hot sugar has Tristan hauling himself out of bed. Tess always makes waffles on the first day of school. She says it’s so he can start on a positive note. Throwing on a shirt, Tristan heads for the stairs. First days no longer make him nervous. He’s seen too many plus he’s learned they’re more of a recon mission. But there’s no way he’s messing with this tradition.
Waffles are waffles.
He’s just at the top of the narrow stairs when he grips the bannister, his head spinning. Tristan frowns, his other hand coming to his temple. Maybe he got up too fast.
He hasn’t had a vision in ages…
The cream walls and stained carpet fade away like they were never real. He locks every muscle, knowing what’s coming next is impossible to stop.
“Tristan?” It’s Tess, her voice full of concern.
But it’s too late. A new reality has gripped him.
One painting a future that has yet to come.
It must be night time because everywhere he looks, it’s black, right down to the mist at his feet.
There are two girls. One, a blonde, is sprawled on the floor, the other girl, this one a brunette, has collapsed on all fours. It’s clear she’s distressed. For a split second she looks up and it feels like their eyes meet. Tristan gasps. She can’t see him, can she? But then her mouth is moving as if she’s talking to someone. Someone who must be standing right where he is.
Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan is met by nothing but darkness. When he turns back, he scans the area, knowing there’s more. The visions are always about Skins.
And if there are too many of them, it could mean they’ve already been found. If that’s the case, they’ll be leaving sooner than he thought.
But when he sees them, Tristan’s eyes widen with horror and he has to stop himself from taking a step forward and plunging down the stairs. He doesn’t get to change what happens. He’s nothing but a spectator.
There are many of them, littered around like statues. Frozen. He can tell they’re Skins. He always can in the visions. A black aura surrounds them, the evil stain that is Chardis.
The brunette lifts her arm only to collapse as if a weight was just pressed on her. She struggles, but it’s obvious that whatever it is, it’s too strong. Her hand reaches out as if he’s there, but before Tristan can scream, she stills. A pool of blood blooms on the ground around her head, forming a crimson halo.
The vision dissolves, leaving him surrounded by black and his own heavy breathing. But Tristan waits, heart battering his ribs. There will be a second vision.
There’s always a second.
This scene unfolds like the first. The brunette on the ground, talking to whoever’s in front of her. But this time, when she raises her hand, something changes. The mist recedes. She pushes to her feet.
The vision evaporates just as quickly as the first. The darkness falls away, the morning light suddenly feeling foreign. What the hell just happened?
As consciousness filters in, Tristan finds he’s still standing at the top of the stairs. He has to unclench his hand from the bannister, the skin on his knuckles white and stretched.
“Tristan.” Tess reaches out carefully. She knows it’s hard to shift back to the present. “Are you okay?”
Tristan nods even though his gut is churning. It’s always like this—the disorientation, the jumble in his head, the nausea. It will pass...eventually.
And then he’ll have to decide what they’re going to do with the two alternate realities he just witnessed.
Zarius is halfway up the stairs, watching them. Everything about him says he’s on alert and ready to move if needed. Zarius was sent to Earth along with baby Tristan. His role is that of protector, and he takes his job seriously.
Tristan pulls up a shaky grin. “I haven’t vision-walked in years, you know.”
Although, if he’d taken the step forward that he’d wanted to in the vision, the tumble down the stairs would’ve been inevitable.
Zarius relaxes. “You don’t remember the time you almost ran into traffic because you saw that Skins were about to find us.”
Tristan jogs down the last of the steps. “Good thing the first vision wasn’t the one that came true that time, huh?” He slaps Zarius on the shoulder as he trots past.
Heading to the kitchen, he imagines the head shake Zarius is probably still engaging in. Then he’ll glance at Tess. She’ll smile. And everything will be right for him again.
His heart rate already dropping, Tristan draws in a deep breath. Someone died in the first vision. Death hung in the air.
He shudders. He’s never seen anyone die before, let alone several.
Unless it’s the second vision that’s the true one…
That’s the crux of Tristan’s visions. Two futures. Only one that comes true. And he never knows which one it is.
Trying to find some equilibrium, Tristan flops onto the chair, drawing the stack of waffles toward him. Tess’s right. This is definitely a perk in a life that involves a revolving door of first days at school.
Tess and Zarius join him, sliding in across the table. Tristan focuses on picking up the maple syrup and pouring it over the waffles like it’s ketchup.