like a freight train. He steamrolled through life and anyone in the way got pulled under the wheels.
Belatedly, she ran to the front door and yanked it open. Parting the screen from the frame, she stepped out onto the porch in time to see him stalking down the drive toward the street. He didn't appear to own a car—but then he wouldn't if he'd flown in for his visit. She couldn't recall him mentioning whether he'd flown or driven into town. The man was an enigma. She couldn't second guess him and couldn't figure him out.
“ Goodnight!” she called.
He lifted a hand in a parting wave without turning around.
Farris watched until the darkness swallowed him whole.
In the house, she locked the front door and went to do the same to the back.
Trudging up the stairs, she headed to the guest room Henson had designated as hers if she ever needed it.
She had a lot to think about. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight.
Chapter Seven
Chaos Manor, nestled deep into a wooded copse on ten acres of private land, was the house Devon called home. She loved the tall spires, gothic inspired architecture, and the carved stone ravens that sat sentinel on all four corners of the roof.
For the last seven months, she had lived within the manor walls, learning a new way of life.
A life she had wholly embraced and had come to adore.
When she arrived home from Oklahoma, it was via the large oval mirror in her bedroom on the second floor. The reflective surface rippled like liquid silver.
Devon jumped through and landed with a satisfied thump on both feet.
A moment later, the mirror rippled again, warping from the middle to the edges, and solidified once more. It had taken her weeks and weeks to learn that trick.
Soon, she would be able to travel long distances without the aid of a physical object.
Her bedroom embodied everything Devon was at heart and then some; slightly hectic, dark, intriguing and bold. The canopy bed was king sized with carvings of ravens in the posts and across the headboard. Ivy twined throughout, a whimsical touch echoed around the edges of her desk, the chair and a divan situated catty corner near the window.
Several shades of gray made a monochrome color scheme. It soothed and excited her at the same time.
Ever since she could remember, she had a passion for black. Clothes, shoes, hats, coats. Even jewelry.
It was the bedroom she'd always wanted but never had as a child.
Pulling back her hair, she secured it into a ponytail and exited the bedroom. A long hallway filled with antiques, paintings, vases and intricate runners on the floor led to a broad, sweeping staircase that wound down to the first floor.
Riding the banister down, she hopped off before she crashed into the post at the end and jogged through the foyer into the kitchen.
The spacious pantry set into the wall had a door hidden behind a movable shelf, and after pulling it out a few feet, she reached for the light switch.
Light illuminated a set of stairs leading down.
Stepping onto the landing, Devon pulled the shelf closed behind her and trotted down to the basement.
The basement was the best part about Chaos Manor.
What made it awesome were the miles of underground catacombs spreading out from a main room like octopus tentacles. Hundreds upon thousands of Destinies were stacked atop each other in arch shaped recesses.
The main room, enormous by her standards, boasted tables against every wall. More Destinies sat on each one, piles and piles of them, all neatly arranged. Sometimes the neatness of the stacks jarred her inner Chaos, and she struggled with the desire not to make a mess of it all. The papers were precious, however, and she always succeeded in keeping order in this sacred place.
In the middle of the basement stood a pedestal. Eight stone carved ravens in flight balanced a stone bowl on their beaks. Circling the base, drawn into the stone floor, were depictions of black runes.
Tonight, no Destinies burned in the bowl. It
Belatedly, she ran to the front door and yanked it open. Parting the screen from the frame, she stepped out onto the porch in time to see him stalking down the drive toward the street. He didn't appear to own a car—but then he wouldn't if he'd flown in for his visit. She couldn't recall him mentioning whether he'd flown or driven into town. The man was an enigma. She couldn't second guess him and couldn't figure him out.
“ Goodnight!” she called.
He lifted a hand in a parting wave without turning around.
Farris watched until the darkness swallowed him whole.
In the house, she locked the front door and went to do the same to the back.
Trudging up the stairs, she headed to the guest room Henson had designated as hers if she ever needed it.
She had a lot to think about. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight.
Chapter Seven
Chaos Manor, nestled deep into a wooded copse on ten acres of private land, was the house Devon called home. She loved the tall spires, gothic inspired architecture, and the carved stone ravens that sat sentinel on all four corners of the roof.
For the last seven months, she had lived within the manor walls, learning a new way of life.
A life she had wholly embraced and had come to adore.
When she arrived home from Oklahoma, it was via the large oval mirror in her bedroom on the second floor. The reflective surface rippled like liquid silver.
Devon jumped through and landed with a satisfied thump on both feet.
A moment later, the mirror rippled again, warping from the middle to the edges, and solidified once more. It had taken her weeks and weeks to learn that trick.
Soon, she would be able to travel long distances without the aid of a physical object.
Her bedroom embodied everything Devon was at heart and then some; slightly hectic, dark, intriguing and bold. The canopy bed was king sized with carvings of ravens in the posts and across the headboard. Ivy twined throughout, a whimsical touch echoed around the edges of her desk, the chair and a divan situated catty corner near the window.
Several shades of gray made a monochrome color scheme. It soothed and excited her at the same time.
Ever since she could remember, she had a passion for black. Clothes, shoes, hats, coats. Even jewelry.
It was the bedroom she'd always wanted but never had as a child.
Pulling back her hair, she secured it into a ponytail and exited the bedroom. A long hallway filled with antiques, paintings, vases and intricate runners on the floor led to a broad, sweeping staircase that wound down to the first floor.
Riding the banister down, she hopped off before she crashed into the post at the end and jogged through the foyer into the kitchen.
The spacious pantry set into the wall had a door hidden behind a movable shelf, and after pulling it out a few feet, she reached for the light switch.
Light illuminated a set of stairs leading down.
Stepping onto the landing, Devon pulled the shelf closed behind her and trotted down to the basement.
The basement was the best part about Chaos Manor.
What made it awesome were the miles of underground catacombs spreading out from a main room like octopus tentacles. Hundreds upon thousands of Destinies were stacked atop each other in arch shaped recesses.
The main room, enormous by her standards, boasted tables against every wall. More Destinies sat on each one, piles and piles of them, all neatly arranged. Sometimes the neatness of the stacks jarred her inner Chaos, and she struggled with the desire not to make a mess of it all. The papers were precious, however, and she always succeeded in keeping order in this sacred place.
In the middle of the basement stood a pedestal. Eight stone carved ravens in flight balanced a stone bowl on their beaks. Circling the base, drawn into the stone floor, were depictions of black runes.
Tonight, no Destinies burned in the bowl. It
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