Page 25 of Destined Chaos
“Why does it matter about my curse?” I asked, hobbling to the bar to sit on a stool.
“Mrs. Weller says you were born in Mountain View and there are others here that are special like you. We have all kinds of talents, so if there’s anyone that can break a curse, it’s the…what did your guy call it?” He used the same air quotes as me. “The freaks. Takes a freak to stop freaks, right?”
I grinned. Hugh had a valid point, not that I thought it possible, but maybe. “If I’m around in five years, I’ll be more than glad to let you help me break it.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I had fifteen missed calls and even more missed text messages. The incoming call was from Beaumont Foundation. Just peachy. “Excuse me.”
“Take your time. I’m cooking,” Hugh said.
I hopped back to the couch and answered. “Slaughter.”
“Libby, where have you been?” Champ Beaumont asked.
“Sorry, Champ. I guess Slaughter House lacks cell service. I didn’t even realize I missed any calls.”
“Wait. Are you sick?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because you didn’t know I was trying to reach you. I pay you to see things that are coming, and you didn’t even know I was calling you.”
I sighed. There was little I could do to explain the fog that was blocking my ability to know things. “I’ve had a lot on my mind with all the problems at Slaughter House. I’m a bit frazzled. That’s why I took a vacation.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that the FBI wants to talk to you again. They’re asking for you, and they went to your address. Peter was there, and he told them that he lives there.”
“Wait. What?” my voice screeched, causing Hugh to glance in my direction.
“He said you asked him to move in.”
“I did no such thing,” I growled. “Damn it. I knew I should have demanded my key back.”
“It’s worse than that, Libby. He says that you just have cold feet and that this was his way of making it easy on you to move the relationship forward.”
“Good Lord.” I lowered my head and rubbed at my splitting headache. “He’s delusional, Champ. Tell him to leave.” I lifted my gaze. “Never mind. I’ll tell him to leave. You just make sure he does.”
“You sure you don’t want me to handle this? He’s starting to turn stalkerish on you.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I appreciate the heads-up. I’m dealing with the property, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“No worries. You call him, and I’ll have him out of your house tomorrow.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“And then I’m coming there to help you. You just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said. “I’m calling him now. Bye, Champ.”
“Take care, Libby, and don’t forget to call the feds.”
“Will do.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my palm. Ten messages were from Peter. In each one he was getting angrier that I wasn’t returning his call. In the last two, something had flipped his switch. The anger was gone and replaced by something calmer and more filled with weird questions about what side of the bed I slept on and what I’d want for dinner.
Peter was starting to be a problem. One I hadn’t expected.
“Is everything okay?” Hugh asked.
“Yes.” I shook my head. “No.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You fly planes, right? You do charters?”
“Yeah.”
