Part Forty

You Will Find Your Way

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Part Forty of You Will Find Your Way
Giselle is an astrophysicist, not a meteorologist, damn it.

What.

Dallas blinks, blinks again, but Giselle is still facing her with that expectant look like she should know what she’s talking about and—Dallas is incredibly confused, but she probably shouldn’t be? Should be? Both?

Maybe she does need to go to bed.

She rubs her eyes and stumbles the rest of the way into the living room. She flops onto the couch and proper her head on her hand, “Explain whatever this is to me,” Giselle opens her mouth, probably to do just that, but Dallas cuts her off. “Explain as if I am a small child with a very short attention span.”

Giselle lifts the crinkled Post-It that they nearly lost to the dust bunnies that live under the couch, “There was an atmospheric disturbance the night your blade started glowing.”

“And?”

“And,” Giselle parrots back, her annoyance at the interruption plain on her face—not that it’s much different from the expression that’s been on her face for most of the night. “I checked the old weather data and there was the same atmospheric disturbance when those idiot children decided to mess with forces they couldn’t control.”

Luke shifts, crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the mantle, and Dallas flashes back to that day last week when she fumbled through her explanation of—everything.

Which turned out to not be even close to anything, but—it’s fine.

They’ll get there.

“How do you know that’s not a coincidence?”

Giselle huffs and her eyes go narrow as she holds her hand out for the pad of paper that’s still in Hilda’s hands, but Dallas looks at Mathias, tilts her head and thinks back to her and Luke’s aborted attempt at dinner a few hours before, “It’s not,” she blurts.

When Luke turns to her, she shrugs, “There was ightning tonight. I was too busy freaking out about if I was hallucinating seeing Mathias that I didn’t realize that it was weird.”

“Also, we spent years living in the desert where it is normal,” Giselle adds.

Dallas nods, a concession, and curls up tighter on the couch when exhaustion hits her hard and make all her limbs—head especially—feel like they’ve doubled in weight, “Yeah, that.”

“So what does that mean?”

Giselle looks up when she notices that Luke’s look at her now, “How the hell should I know?” She snaps, and maybe everyone should get some sleep. “I’m an astrophysicist, not a meteorologist.”

Dallas flaps a hand in her direction, “Down girl,” she mumbles, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she shifts more weight to the arm of the couch so she’s at least sort of sitting up. “You know, maybe you should-”

“Actually,” Hilda cuts in, and Dallas snaps her mouth shut against the desire to tell her off for interrupting, but she was about to say something inappropriate about Giselle’s sex life, so they’re probably all better off. “The atmospheric event that occurred prior to Dallas’—well, her disappearance, occurred hours before the event.”

Event.

Dallas snorts, but as she thinks back on it, everything that night is just a painful, blurry memory that she’d really rather not clarify, “Afraid I’m no help on that,” she turns back to Luke. “You remember any funky weather before the bonfire?”

He shrugs, which is more or less to be expected.

“So?” She asks in Mathias’ general direction. “What now?”

Dallas head kind of—well, it drifts toward her shoulder and she blinks slow, eyes slipping shut until something hits the back of her head.

“Wake up, darling, it’s time to focus.”

Hilda settles back on her perch near Giselle, and Dallas resolutely keeps her head turned toward Mathias, “Are you sure I can’t strangle her? It’s not like your mother can kill me.”

With a shake of his head, Mathias shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “We might have a pretty big breach between this world and another.”

“Another?”

“They’re not coming from the world we’re camped on. The one where you were sent to twelve years ago.”

Dallas snorts, “Give or take a century and a half.”

You Will Find Your Way continues with Part Forty One

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Author: TheFakeRedhead

A life-long college sports fan and forever bitter about the country's east coast biases, Kathryn, the Fake Redhead, graduated from the University of Arizona with a BA in Creative Writing, emphasis in poetry because she felt the fiction studies emphasis was too pretentious. She is currently helping other writers hone their craft while she pursues her dreams of becoming a published novelist.

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