Chaos (29 page)

Would she be there? Would he be too late?

He rounded the corner of Divisadero Street just as a
dark sedan hurtled around the corner. He remembered that car. It was the same one. He caught a glimpse of blond hair in the passenger seat.

“Corinthe.” His voice was lost in the sounds from the street.

He wasn’t going to make it in time. The realization made his blood run cold. He tried to push through the crowd, but there were too many people hanging by the crosswalk—tourists with shopping bags and baby strollers.

Then someone ran into the street—he saw a blur of dark hair, the fast cycle of legs. He shouted. This was wrong. Different. The woman behind the wheel—face white, terrified—jerked the car to the left. Brakes screeched and the air smelled like burning rubber. The car jumped the curb and hit a streetlamp. Steam hissed from the engine.

Luc was at the passenger door in seconds.

He jerked it open and came face to face with Corinthe.

“What—what are you doing?” she stammered. Confusion clouded her face.

Luc felt a wave of relief. Corinthe was okay. The driver was okay, too. The dark-haired woman was gripping Corinthe’s arm.

“Corinthe,” she was saying. “Corinthe, are you all right?”

“You ruined it,” Corinthe whispered to him. When he reached across her to unbuckle her seatbelt, she froze. “What are you
doing
?”

“Corinthe …” As soon as she was free, he pulled her out of the car and threw his arms around her. He had to hold her, to know that she was real and okay.

She stiffened and stepped back abruptly. “How do you know my name? Who—who
are
you?”

He took a deep breath and let it out to keep his voice steady. “I promised that I’d find a way to save you, and I did. I know you don’t remember me yet, but you will. I love you, Corinthe. And you love me.”

“What?” She shook her head. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. But when he leaned in, she didn’t pull away again. She let him brush his lips against hers. Softly. Like one of the fireflies that carried the marbles to different worlds.

He wanted to keep kissing her forever.

“Have … we met before?” she whispered. Her expression had softened. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

Luc gently took her hand. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, Corinthe. We’ve met.” He brought a hand to her face. She didn’t draw away. Her eyes continued searching his face, as though for an answer to a puzzle.

“This is our second chance,” he said. “I’m not wasting a single second of it. I love you.”

And even if she didn’t know it yet, he could see a promise shining from her beautiful purplish-gray eyes: she would love him, too.

She already did.

Jasmine watched Luc and the girl, Corinthe.

She was beautiful, with wild blond hair spilling like a river down her back, and violet eyes. Jasmine could see why Luc had fallen in love with her.

Jasmine’s heart beat painfully in her throat. Luc had his happy ending, but Ford was gone. The headache had come on fast in the apartment, but no matter how hard she tried to hold on, Ford was ripped from her side.

When the darkness ebbed, she had found herself clutching a marble instead.

The urge had been undeniable, irresistible—like cresting in a roller coaster and plunging down, down, down, stomach soaring, wind whipping. She had been drawn to this street corner as though by some inner magnet. She hurtled out in front of the dark sedan like a crazy person,
her legs, feet, body obeying a more powerful command than she could resist.

And then she saw Luc run up to the mangled car. Even from a distance, Jasmine saw the relief on his face.

He had done it.

The marble felt smooth and cool between her fingers. When she held it up, the image swirled inside again: a couple kissing.

Corinthe and Luc.

In the street, she could see Luc kissing Corinthe, a life-sized reproduction of the image in the marble.

The marble cracked apart in Jasmine’s hand, and a small firefly emerged from the orb. She held it up and it hovered there, darting around the palm of her hand, then circling her shoulders.

Jasmine reached up and wrapped her fingers around the key that hung from a chain around her neck. Luc’s fate had been fulfilled, and
she’d
made a promise to Ford.

But there was something she had to do first.

She turned and began walking toward the rotunda.

First, Jasmine had to send the Messenger home.

It takes a village to publish a book, and this book was no exception. I have some really great editors who can weave my imperfect sentences into gold. PLL and especially Rhoda Belleza helped turn the chaos of
Chaos
into a compelling story that I hope my readers love as much as I do. Thank you for such an amazing opportunity.

Wendy Loggia at Random House is a wonder, and through her edits and questions,
Chaos
came alive. It was an amazing experience working with her and her team.

My super agent, Mandy Hubbard, not only handles the nitty-gritty stuff but is a master at hand-holding and taming writerly angst. Without her, I’d probably be rocking in the corner with a half-finished manuscript in my lap.

It goes without saying that I couldn’t have done this without the support of my family. Their encouragement and love keep me going on this roller-coaster ride that is my dream. My hope is that my boys will see that anything is possible and will chase their own dreams one day. I love you guys!

Last but not least, a special thanks goes out to my readers. I still can’t believe people are actually reading the words that I write. I’m humbled by you all and thank you all so much.

Lanie Bross
is the author of
Fates
and, as Lee Bross,
Tangled Webs
. She was born in a small town in Maine, where she spent the next eighteen years dreaming of bigger places. After exploring city life, she and her husband and two young sons ended up going right back to the wilds of Maine. They now live just one house down from where she grew up. Fate, perhaps? Lanie loves chasing her rambunctious kids, playing tug-of-war with her ninety-five-pound Lab, and writing for teens.