Tempting the Fates

Chapter 31

I stared at the wreckage around me, my fury turning cold. Mom had been right. The room was an absolute mess. Furniture was turned over, books scattered all over the floor. A vase was broken near the front door. I didn't see any blood, but that didn't mean anything. Gods were spiteful, vindictive, selfish, but smart... they could have killed him a thousand different ways without spilling a drop of his blood.

I wandered around, searching each room. My room looked bare, as if I'd been completely erased from existence. Seeing it felt like I was in an alternate reality, where my dad had never fallen in love or become a father. All that remained in the room was a desk and a chair, but the desk drawers were pulled out and papers were scattered along the floor. The closet door was opened, a few of Dad's shirts pulled from their hangers and laying in a pile by my feet.

The living room was the only other room that was wrecked, so I wasn't sure there had been a fight. Someone had been looking for something in particular. Had they been looking for me?

I wasn't sure how much time I had. Anyone could have been watching the place. I decided to test my newly increased powers, waving my right hand in front of me. To my surprise, all the damage began to repair itself. The couch and dad's recliner floated a few inches and rotated, settling upright on the floor. The books zoomed across the space, all finding their rightful places on our bookshelves. The vase pieced itself together, like a video in reverse. It hovered for a moment, then placed itself back on the entry table with a tiny thump.

I stared down at my hands, wondering what else I could do. It had been difficult to conjure small things yesterday. Suddenly the power inside me was so strong that it felt like my life force. Before I could tempt myself with what felt like limitless power, I focused on the task before me. I lifted a single finger and moved it in a counterclockwise circle, forcing the world around me to obey.

And it did. Shadows began to move around me, replaying the past. The images before me were a little faded, like I was looking through a dirty window. But I was going to find out what really happened, and that's all that mattered. My heart stung with heartache and guilt as the faded image of Dad walked into the living room and reached for the newspaper on the coffee table.

The doorbell rang, echoing deep as the memory continued. I glanced to the door, not noticing that my dad was coming up behind me. But he was the shadow of a memory, and so he walked straight through my body. He opened the door, and my stomach dropped as I saw who was standing there.

It was the private investigator I'd hired to find mom.

"Good evening, Mr. Prescott?" she'd questioned.

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?" He scratched behind one of his ears.

"My name is Jennifer Espinosa, and I'm looking for your daughter, Callie."

"Callie?" he paused, shaking his head. "I don't have a daughter. I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Tears stung my eyes as the words left his mouth. He had been my entire world until the night I'd left, and I knew his love for me as a father was the same. After he'd lost mom, I was the only one who mattered. Being a good dad was his number one goal. Hearing him say that he wasn't my father pained me in a way I couldn't describe.

"I'm sorry, but this is 367 Sycamore, Apartment 9, yes?"

"Yeah, but I don't have a daughter. You must be mistaken." He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Sir, she was adamant when she came to see me. She was looking for someone-" The private investigator pulled out the copy of my birth certificate I'd given her from her bag, along with my signed contract and the photo of myself I'd provided her. "Isn't that you with her?"

The picture was one of my favorites, from right after I'd graduated high school. He and Sara- his girlfriend at the time- had taken me to the beach to celebrate, and we had been walking along the shore, talking about my future. Sara had made a photo album during the year they dated, and when they broke up, she gave me every picture of me and my dad she'd taken. That photo had always meant a lot to me, so I gave a copy to the investigator when she'd asked for an identifying picture (in case she found mom).

I moved forward to get a better view of the memory. As I came up to my dad, there was a painful look on his face. He reached out and took the documents, lifting them up to look at them. His eyes squinted, as they always did when he didn't put on his glasses. When he looked at the picture, something snapped. His expression went from confusion to horror in a single instant.

"Callie..." he whispered, turning around. He dropped the documents and ran to my room, knocking the vase over in his frenzy. I followed his figure, only to see him pulling clothes from the closet and emptying the drawers. He was looking for me. He was looking for evidence I existed. Tears fell freely from my eyes as I watched him panic. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I knew it was futile.

He searched every room to no avail. The private investigator had stepped inside the apartment and was trying to calm him down.

"She's gone. She's gone, like she was never here." He sobbed, falling onto his recliner.

"Do you think perhaps she found her mother?" Jennifer questioned.

"What did you just say?" he blanched, looking up at her.

"She came to me to find her mother. She said she'd been looking, too, so maybe she found her before I was able to."

"No!" my father roared, standing. Fury boiling inside him, he knocked his recliner over. He set his sights on the bookshelves, and when enough books had been thrown, he took out the couch, too. Jennifer backed up and ran out the door, grabbing the photo and papers on her way.

The memory morphed, like ink in water. Dad was still frantic as he zipped up one of his duffel bags, which he'd filled with clothes and his passport. He slung it over his shoulder and rushed out the door.

The apartment became silent once more as the magic I'd produced ended.

"He wasn't kidnapped." I breathed, relief flooding me. "He went to find me."