Tempest (#1 Destroyers Series)

Her father drove them home way over the speed limit. He even mashed the accelerator through a yellow light, going under right when it turned red.

  “Dad, what’s the rush?” she asked. Did that woman in the gray suit have something to do with it? She couldn’t imagine why. “You’re always the one who drives in the slow lane.”

  “I know I am. But something isn’t agreeing with me,” he said.

  “Then why didn’t you go at the hospital?” Janelle had the sinking feeling he was lying. He’d blown past two McDonalds where he could have stopped.

  “I don’t want to be tied up in a public restroom all day. I’d rather get home.”

  When they got home, he made a beeline for the bathroom, closed the door, and stayed there for a while. Janelle worked on some unpacking now that their power had come back on. After a little while, her father made his way to his study and closed the door behind him.

  That was something he almost never did. He always left his door open.

  Something was going on here.

  Something big, and it had to do with her.

  Janelle had to find out what.

  Her father’s voice floated through the wall, then quieted. He was talking on the phone. Eavesdropping was bad, but she didn’t have a lot of choices left. If her mark did mean something, it was wrong of her dad to keep it from her. She’d always been responsible. Always gotten good grades and stayed out of trouble, like he insisted. Always took his suggestions to join Key Club and the chess club and every other club that made her brain want to explode.

  She deserved the truth, whatever it was.

  Janelle crept out into the hallway and up to the study door. It was way thinner than the wall. She pressed her ear to it, taking in her father's low voice.

  “I…I can’t do it. I was going to tell her, but then she got so upset. I think it’s better that she doesn’t know ahead of time. I remember what it did to me, so I’m going to have to rely on you, Deon.” A pause. “We have to hurry. I had…a sighting. I saw her today.” Another pause. “The tenth? That’s the closest? What about her school? We’re looking at up to a two-week absence here. All right, if that really is the best you can do. I think it will be good for us to get away.”

  So her father had left because of that business woman. Maybe she was an old enemy of his. But what was this thing that she wasn’t supposed to know about?

  Janelle readjusted her position, but a floorboard creaked.

  Her father lowered his voice down to a dim mumble. She grit her teeth in frustration. “Crap,” she muttered, pushing her ear against the smooth wood of the door.

  Nothing. What was he doing in there—whispering? Trying to do sign language over the phone? Or maybe he’d just plain hung up so she couldn’t hear his top secret conversation.

  Janelle stalked back to her room and shut the door. Maybe she could see if anyone else had noticed people materializing out of eight-foot-high tornadoes in storms.

  She typed hurricane in the search engine and clicked on the first article that came up. Hurricane Andrina strikes Texas coast, hundreds feared dead in massive storm surge. A huge picture of the Category 5 monster filled the top half of the screen, and Janelle found herself digging her toes into the carpet. Something about the dark, pitiless eye sent a chill down her spine. She wondered if her father would burst into the room and tell her not to look at that, like he had with the news six years ago.

  Janelle skimmed the long article. Andrina had spawned sixty-eight tornadoes, but no people had come out of them. That didn’t help any. Next. Hurricane Kevin ravages Florida Panhandle just 2 months after Curtis. No reports of people materializing out of nowhere. Another. Evacuations under way as Joey bears down on SC coast. Still no help.

  Several news stories later, she sighed and typed people appearing in hurricanes. Zip. She reworded the search at least a dozen more times. Nada. Three hours later, she rubbed her burning eyes, turned the computer off, and went to bed.