Chapter 11

PRUE

I stare out the window of Emmett's SUV, my mind a whirlwind of questions I'm too afraid to ask. Grayson's sprawled across the backseat, and I'm riding shotgun, feeling like I'm hurtling into the unknown. Again. Story of my life lately.

The colors outside flick by in a surreal flash: pink, purple, brown, pink again, and violet. It's like someone decided this world required a very specific color scheme. Probably the same person who thought it was a good idea to make me the one and only Time Witch of our generation.

We're cruising down a main road, on either side of it are open fields and hills as far as the eye can see. There's barely another car in sight, and a knot forms in my stomach at how isolated we are. I can't help but wonder if I should be worried that Emmett's driving us to what seems like the middle of nowhere. Fantastic, another thing to add to my growing list of concerns. Right below ‘fix multiple universes' and ‘get home.'

I glance behind me, checking on Grayson. He's out cold. Great, just me and the stranger then.

"Who the hell are you?" I finally break the silence and turn to face Emmett. His strikingly light green eyes specked with brown catch me off guard, and for the strangest moment they seem familiar. He's staring at me with a small grin and a calm expression. How nice for him.

"Emmett," he says and turns his gaze back to the road.

Okay? Well, apparently, he answers questions literally. I take a second to compose myself. I rub my forehead, squash down the anger threatening to burn through, and I start again.

"How about an intro as to who you are and why we had to find you?" I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and fail.

"Emmett Hart," he says. "Like Grayson, I'm a Time Master. While he fetched you, I figured out where we need to get you to fix things." He pauses. "What has Grayson filled you in on?"

I tap my chin, angling my body toward Emmett. Blondie here seems more forthcoming than Grayson. Maybe I'll get some answers.

"Let's see. He told me, 'Hey Prue, you're a Time Witch, the one and only. A rogue faction destroyed the time streams that keep my world, this world and his world intact. I'm the only one who can repair them. And I can go with him or lose my home.'" I pause. "And then he said we were going to a sex club because you were there, and it was necessary to get to you."

"That's it?" Emmett's surprise is evident in how his voice changes tone. He glances at me.

"Pretty much. Grayson doesn't talk much." I lean back into my seat, my body exhausted but too wired to actually sleep.

"And you just willingly came along with him?" Emmett is eyeing me now like I'm the crazy one. Join the club, buddy.

"No, I…uh…"

Discomfort settles over me, my chest tightens, my stomach curls. I rub the back of my neck, my fingers trailing down over the raised scars. One, two, three. I pull back. They're always there, a constant reminder of my past, just like my anxiety lying beneath the surface, ready to take over with just one thought or feeling.

"I lost control when he was trying to convince me to come with him. He stopped me. Then he informed me that I had just made it easy for the people who are searching for me to find me. Then I left with him." I peek at Emmett, his gaze is on the road, but his full attention is still on me. "With the agreement that when this is done, I get to go home and never see him again," I add, just to clarify the terms. As if any of this is under my control.

Emmett swings his full body toward me, his brow creased. "What happened when you jumped, Prue?"

"I don't really know," I say, the memory fuzzy and unsettling. "One second everything was okay, then it wasn't. Grayson yelled at me to stop, but well, that didn't work. I landed in this field and just started walking, which by the way led me to the people who seemed to be angling for me."

"Marissa and Cole," Emmett says.

"What were the chances of that?" I ask, the anxiety in my gut rearing up once more. I hated how I could go from normalcy to nervousness in the matter of seconds.

"High, given Cole likely manipulated the energy around you and brought him to you."

My head snaps up, and I pull on my seatbelt, turning my body to face Emmett. "What do you mean?"

"Some Time Masters have the ability to influence situations, drive events in a certain direction, you know, control how things play out. If you don't know how to pick it up, you'll go with it."

"He drove me toward him?" The idea makes me feel sick, violated somehow.

"Yes."

"I'm that easy to control." It wasn't a question. Just another reminder of how out of my depth I am.

"Not for long." Emmett's words are decisive and comforting, an odd combination, and I find myself liking him just a little bit for it.

About twenty minutes later, Emmett pulls to a stop in front of an unassuming holiday cabin. It's wooden exterior's a bit weathered. Trees line one side of the house and bushes on the other. I open the car door, and a crispness hits me.

My feet land on gravel. I'm glad to be out of the car, to have something solid under my feet again. A porch wraps around the house, and to the left of the door is a long bench. Emmett goes to the back of the car to grab the bags Grayson and I had with us.

The trunk of the car opening wakes Grayson. His door opening precedes the crunch of gravel beneath his feet when he jumps out of the car.

"Emmett," he grumbles.

Color's returned to him, and his hair is ruffled. He's such a stark contrast to Emmett with his dark brown hair, midnight blue eyes. Where Emmett is light, Grayson is nothing but pure intensity. "Where the hell are we?" he asks Emmett and steps forward.

"We couldn't go to my main house, so I set this place up for us."

"It's a fucking cabin." Grayson's eloquence knows no bounds.

"It's nice," I say, trying to be diplomatic. Though why I'm bothering, I'm not sure.

"He lives in a literal mansion," Grayson says to me and points to Emmett, as if it was unclear who he was referring to.

"Calm down, Gray, it has everything we need, and I made sure to block out its energy. They won't find us here. I didn't have time to do that to my place. And Marissa and Cole would go there anyway."

Grayson considers what Emmett said, eyeing the place again before huffing. "Fine."

"Is he always this prissy?" I say when he walks ahead, muttering about hot water. My question elicits a laugh from Emmett, and this interaction between us is so casual, so normal, it's like I'm supposed to be here and having this conversation. I shake the thought off and take in the surroundings as Emmett walks me through the cabin showing me where everything is and what I needed to know.

Inside's cozy; the living room and kitchen flow together with two bedrooms off to the side. A set of stairs lead to another room and a main bathroom. It smells like wood.

I walk over to the room Emmett has set up for me. There's an array of clothes, shoes, towels, and toiletries. If I hadn't managed to bring some things with me, I would've been set. I eye the clothes he's picked out for me. Mostly black and warm, which is surprising because, on my earth, it's spring. Here it seems to be autumn. A chill's setting in that I finally notice now that we've stopped.

I sit on the bed, and my body sags against it with relief. If I think about it, I haven't slept or eaten since my last shift at Andria's. My last shift... My chest pains at that thought. Will I ever see her again? Will I ever have that normal life I wanted so desperately?

I focus on the room, the wood stained white, a stark contrast to the brown out in the main living areas. The accents are olive green, a beautiful match to the white. This is the first time I haven't been actively doing something in the past couple of days. Time jumping, hiking, searching for Grayson, then for Emmett, and everything else between. It's almost overwhelming, this moment of stillness.

I let myself lie back for just a second, the bed encasing me as my muscles ease. The duvet's soft, tempting me to crawl in and sleep for days. But the shower turns off, and a couple of minutes later, the bathroom door opens.

Reluctantly, I sit up, grab the toiletries out of my bag then move to the closet and pull-out black leggings, a black top and a green pullover that seems to go with it. In my hasty packing, I brought jeans, underwear, and not much else. I'm very grateful that Emmett thought ahead.

I open the door. Emmett's sprawled on the couch, shoes off, eyes closed. I glance at him on the way to the stairs. A couple of hours ago he was in a pink sex club, and currently he's here in a cabin. I consider what I know about him: he's a Time Master, he went searching for information, he clearly knows Grayson, and he has decent taste in clothes. It's not much to go on, but it's something.

I pause before I pass the couch. "Thank you for the clothes," I say.

He glances at me, and before I can think about what I'm doing, I lean down and kiss the top of his head. What the hell, Prue? That was out of character for you. But to my shock, Emmett grins and winks at me. I'm so unsure of what just happened and why I did that that my stomach knots. I just met this guy and am oddly grateful to him for bringing me to a secluded cabin and having supplies available. I'm about to question him and myself but think better of it and hastily move toward the stairs, letting the embarrassment and comfort work through my body and run their course.

I climb the stairs and aim for the bathroom. Opening the door, I'm taken aback for a second. At the far end of the room is a copper-colored tub. A large window's behind it, framed with black windowpanes. Above the tub hangs a copper light fixture, clearly meant to be the feature of the bathroom.

The view outside is of sprawling trees and sky, but I turn from it, ignoring how it makes me feel exposed. I flinch when I see myself in the mirror. I've looked better. I eye the bath and debate climbing in it but don't. A shower's probably the better choice for tonight.

It has small slate tiles, it's big and has a seat on one side. It's as put together as the bath, and when I step in and the hot water cascades over me, the tension I've been holding finally seeps out of my muscles. Each droplet that caresses my skin washes away the grime and weariness accumulated during the past couple days of relentless activity. The sensation's pure bliss, and I hone on just this moment pretending like nothing else currently exists. For a few minutes, I'm not a Time Witch, I'm just Prue, enjoying a hot shower.

Twenty minutes later, I'm showered, my teeth are brushed, and I'm wearing the rather warm and cozy clothes. I tie my wet hair up and head downstairs. Emmett's still on the couch, but Grayson's in the kitchen. He's wearing dark gray sweats and a hoodie, barefoot, and is cooking.

There's a comfortableness that's clear between the two of them. They operate in the same space with ease. Emmett's making no move to help Grayson, and yet he's directing what Grayson should be doing. Grayson's ignoring him. I watch them for a second more, a pang of loneliness hitting me. It must be nice to just have people around like that, that just fit in your space.

I climb down the stairs, not interrupting the guys, and enter my bedroom. I throw my dirty clothes into my bag. I sit on my bed then reach for my phone, wanting some form of familiarity, of home.

Of course there's no signal, and I open my gallery, scrolling through it. I don't have that many photos, a few of my little cottage, some of the restaurant, some of the parks I'd visited, and a group snap of myself and Andria with everyone else who worked at the restaurant. While Haddlebrooke was safe, I'd avoided making connections, and my phone gallery was visual proof of it. Another reminder of how alone I truly am.

I'm snapped back to the present moment, when a loud voice rings through the space. Emmett is chastising Grayson about something.

"Prudence, get out here," Grayson bellows.

I groan, debating whether to ignore him, but whatever he's making has my stomach grumbling. I shift off the bed and join them. Emmett's lighting the fire, which seems odd since it's chilly but not freezing. Maybe's he's anticipating the temperature to drop more?

"You bellowed?" I aim at Grayson, and he turns toward me. He looks a lot better: color has fully returned to his skin, and his hair is slightly curly again and not sticking to him with sweat. His eyes are his usual cobalt blue.

He smirks at me. "I made some food," he gestures to the table.

"Thanks," I say and pull out the closest chair.

I'm starving and eager to eat, even if it means enduring their company. I cross my leg under me and sit on it. Emmett chooses a chair to my left.

"He means to say he butchered dinner," Emmett says.

It strikes me that a whole other day has passed, and I still haven't slept. The fact that I'm still functioning surprises me. I'm running on pure adrenaline and anxiety and that can't last forever.

"Shut up, Emmett," Grayson grumbles.

"You over kneaded the dough."

"No, I didn't," Grayson snaps.

"And you could have added more sauce."

"You're like an old married couple," I say.

Both guys turn to me.

Emmett's smirking at me, but Grayson's scowling. I laugh, and that catches me off guard because we have a lot to discuss. This wasn't just three friends getting together, and I debate pointing that out but then Grayson slides three pizzas onto the table.

He passes a bottle of water to me then grabs the seat across the table from me.

"You made pizza?" I ask in disbelief.

Grayson doesn't respond.

"He made over-kneaded-and-sauceless pizza," Emmett says.

I laugh at the absurdity of all this. I settle into the evening, letting myself relax. Noone's chasing us, I can't save the world at this exact moment, and I have three types of pizza, homemade, with cheese melting and waiting to be eaten. For now, that will have to be enough. I'll tackle the rest tomorrow.