UpSpark: A New Adult Inspirational Romance (The Five Elements Book 1)

by Nicole Wells

  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  "You’re incredibly level-headed considering the word you live in. And that fact that you're asking is good. But, really? It does sound like you’ve got a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock. This is all most likely just some glitch in your system or something. Your neurons are not working. Maybe a nervous breakdown? Everyone kinda forced you to take a break, right?”

  And I’m back to sighing.

  “Sure. Thanks, Mar.”

  “No worries.”

  I hang up and spend the rest of the night on “Phase Two: Research.” Which is better than advancing to “Phase Three: Call A Professional Shrink.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  By 4:43 a.m. I’ve used up enough nervous energy staying up on my computer that sleep is finally deciding to claim me, so when I first see it, it doesn’t register. When it does register, it’s like a dream and I have to do a double take.

  “The Five Sacred Powers According to the Five Elements: Prescience, Telepathy, Levitation, Bilocation and Manifestation.”

  I’d been scouring all the conspiracy groups, cycling through with different keywords. I was currently on levitation. A lot of the groups were invite only, or required some payment to be part of the club, so I had to wait for those to process. The controversy since Enya’s death has only grown and become more heated, and some people are worried their bosses or families will judge them. But this was an article written by Brayden Lucas and came up fairly high in the search engine, so he wants it to be seen.

  I scan the article. He talks about psychic powers in terms of the Five Elements of Fire, Earth, Metal, Water and Wood and explains how each power is actually two, believed to represent the yin and yang of each element. I guess he didn’t have room in the title for all that. Jumping to the Levitation section, I read that it’s associated with the Metal element, who’s organs are Large Intestine and Lungs. I'm starting to think that this stuff is even more weird than the psychic powers themselves, but I kept reading anyway. This is the first somewhat reputable mention I’d found. Everything else was fandom, debunking or just too off the wall.

  The author stipulates that we each have a home base element, or organ manifestation of that element more specifically. And that with the right inducement, the sacred powers of the element will come forth. Metal’s powers are Levitation (yin) and Telekinesis (yang). Feeling that this has promise, but starting to get over my sleepy-again head, I use one of my alias email accounts and shoot a quick query to the author.

  Satisfied that I accomplished something, I log off and stumble over to my Cal King bed. Which might be on a dias. Under a chandelier. I might have princess issues too. If I do end up at a shrink, I’ll be sure to mention that. I lay my weary head on my ridiculously expensive but amazingly comfortable pillow.

  Being home on hiatus, I sleep in. When I do wake, warm golden light is streaming through my windows and for another blissful moment I’ve forgotten about yesterday and everything is normal. Then I remember, and check my email. Nothing. Oh, well. I drum my gold tipped fingers and catch myself. If it wasn’t for yesterday, I’d probably do some yoga or get out. It looks to be a beautiful day so I opt for the latter.

  I’ve got a large bit of land, having grabbed the Mornington Peninsula’s Ashcombe Maze and Lavender Gardens when it went up for sale in 2020 and revamping the main building for living quarters. I live in Shoreham, which is five minutes from the beach and close to the city, Melbourne. We used to actually visit these 40 acres of gardens when I was a kid, and it was so enchanting, their myriad of mazes, acres of flowers, magical woodland niches, pastures and pond. It brings me such a sense of calm, peace and belonging to run wild through it again. Especially being able to do so without any worry about my privacy. On tour I have to have security guards, but here at home everything is more down to earth.

  I go downstairs to the main room -- a beautiful open space with cathedral ceilings and a wall of glass. This is my dogs’ favorite place because they can watch all the wildlife. Vela is my Besingi and Mocha is my Rhodesian Ridgeback. They are a cute pair because Mocha towers over Vela, but Vela is the silent leader. My groundskeeper essentially cares for them and my horse while I’m away, so it kinda feels like we’re co-owners. But that doesn’t diminish the enthusiastic love they shower on me. I spend some time giving belly rubs and kisses, but they keep me on track, having seen me put on my trainers, and nudge me to go, already excited with the knowledge we’re heading outside.

  After an exhilarating tour of the property -- me on Sadie, my gentle Palomino, and the dogs exploring or running by her shoulder, I head back to the stables to give her a good rub down. There’s something about one-on-one time with animals that just restores the soul. I love the manual labor, the rhythm and mindlessness of it. The quiet and calm and solitude.

  Feeling refreshed in body, mind and spirit, I head back home for a quick shower, checking in on my email one more time. This time I do have new mail! Brayden has given me his mobile, saying it's better to explain the concepts to me over the phone. I was hoping he didn’t want to talk on the phone, but I do have burner mobiles if I need them.

  Not wanting to wait, I dial him up once I get into the great room at home.

  “Hi, is this Brayden?”

  “Speaking.” He has an American accent.

  “Oh, hi. This is Lee. I emailed you about some questions?” I give him one of my frequently used aliases. My real name is Ashleigh, and I go by Leigh to my friends, but the whole world knows me as Aurora.

  “Yes, hi Lee. Shoot.”

  “Well, I wanted to learn more about levitation. The metal power.”

  “Yes, that’s what you emailed. How can I help you?”

  “Well, I just want to learn more about it. I’m really interested. Anything you can expand on really. I’m writing this paper--”

  “Lee, I’m not someone to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. I’m happy to answer all your questions, but I’ll be honest with you. My purpose in writing that article was to find people who could recognize the manifestations of the sacred powers when they saw them. So that I could investigate them. I wanted to reach the people who believed in them, and hopefully some people with eyewitness accounts who could shed some more light on it for me.”

  “So,” he continues, “was your email possibly inspired by something you witnessed or heard about? Maybe someone having telepathy?”

  “Like reading minds?”

  “Kind of, yes. Being able to pick up on thoughts that are sent out, and sending thoughts back, more accurately.”

  “No. I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone that can do that.”

  I hear his gusty sigh. For some reason, I can almost picture him running his hands through his hair. Is visualizing someone a psychic power?

  “Umm, so, I was also wondering if these powers manifest in isolation or if someone can have multiple powers. And, I was also really interested in the conditions that induce the powers. You said there hasn’t been a manifestation of the powers in recent history. Can you tell me more about that?”

  “Sure, but please answer a question for me first. Why are you interested in Levitation particularly?”

  “It just seemed like the neatest of them. Being able to make things float.”

  “Actually, it generally references the gifted person themselves floating, or flying. Making an object float would be more the domain of telekinesis.”

  “Can you tell me more about telekinesis then?” I mentally cross my fingers.

  “Uh, sure. It's the yang form of the sacred power for Metal, being able to move objects. Metal’s power is rooted in wind, so you can imagine someone being able to manipulate an invisible current to move things or hold them still. And to your other question, it would be highly unusual to have multiple powers.”

  I pause when I realize this whole time I’ve been picturing him in my head. Precisely.

  “What color eyes do you have? What color hair?” I realize I soun
d a little bonkers, even for the content of our conversation, and follow with, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Umm, I have dark brown hair and hazel eyes. And I don’t mind you asking if you’ll tell me why?”

  I don’t relinquish control of the conversation. I feel totally driven; I must know. “First, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A Royal Blood shirt. And jeans. I feel like you should be buying me a drink or something.”

  I collapse onto my leather sofa. Thank God. I had this clear sense I was talking to this guy with black hair and green eyes in a black shirt with a tiger on it, not royal blue or red or whatever.

  “I just pictured some guy as I was talking with you. It was weird. But you're probably used to weird.”

  “And I take it from your tone that I didn’t match up? You know, most people would sound disappointed, not relieved.”

  “Well, I guess dark brown could be black and hazel could be green, but Royal Blood is not the color of a black shirt with a tiger on it.”

  “Lee?” he says hesitantly.

  “Yes?” I reply, even more hesitant, a sense of foreboding making me shiver.

  “Royal Blood is not a color. It's a rock band. And the shirt I’m wearing has a tiger on it.”

  I hang up right away, as if the disconnect can suck the words back into the phone and reconnect me back to normalcy.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I rush to my bathroom, on automatic as I go through the motions to shower. I take it extra hot and extra long, trying to immerse myself in just this moment, trying to not let my mind think about anything else. Breathing space. I do a few breathing exercises, a drill as basic as, well, breathing, for a singer like me. I try to let the jets of water reset me, but the stimulus isn’t enough to stop the refrain in my mind, a replay of the end of the conversation. Something is definitely up. I shake the water out of my eyes and shut the nozzles off. I brace my palm against the tile and lean into it. I’m gonna need some help figuring this out, but I have to be careful. The media will latch onto any abnormal thing I do and spin it out of control.

  I towel off and head into the large walk-in closet, headed straight for the back. The province of the ball gowns. Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it. Everything’s better when you’re in a luxurious dress.

  I pick a rose gold number, A line, V neck with tulle and a linear glitter overlay. Perfect. Next, I grab a couple more burner phones and my laptop. The first phone I used has been ringing off the hook, and although Brayden seems to have some useful information, I’m not ready for him yet. I silence it.

  The only starting point I have otherwise is Enya. I look up info on the scientific foundation started by her husband, before he died. I'll email and see if I can get an appointment through the guise of a donation. One of my alias email accounts shows five new emails from Brayden. Oh well. Next, I look up some favorite retailers and pick some things to buy. I call the store numbers and see if I get any hits on what the person on the other end looks like.

  I'm having no such luck, so I really try to get into it, talking the sales representative up, getting to know them, closing my eyes. Mocha does that happy noise when she’s being petted and wants more, but I don’t let that perturb me. I am focused and --

  Okay, that playful yelp was definitely distracting and uncalled for. I open my eyes and I’m about to remind them who’s top dog when I see him. Brayden. In my bedroom. Playing on the floor with my dogs. WTF? And how did he get here? Wasn’t he in America?

  He’s grinning at me, as he keeps belly rubbing Mocha, attention hog that she is. Traitor.

  “Nice outfit.” He looks at me with incredulous approval as he kneels in the doorway, Vela now making circles around him, her tail whipping in excitement. We don’t get many guests.

  “What are you doing here? How did you get in! Stalker!” I’ve stood up on my bed and I’m griping my phone like a weapon before I even realize I’m doing it. Now would be a great time to manifest a useful power that I can actually control.

  Vela shrinks at my upset tone, and Brayden reaches out to ruffle her ears in consolation.

  “What have you done to my dogs?” Maybe he has superpowers too, because these dogs are supposed to be my last line of defense. And apparently he can teleport. I think I’m in trouble. I try to subtly unlock my phone.

  “Lee, listen to your heart. What does your intuition say? Do you really think your dogs would let me get close to you if I had bad intentions?” His slow American drawl matches his relaxed posed, but I’m not so easily swayed.

  “‘Strewth, do you really think I'm going to listen to the rationale of a stalker?”

  “Okay, I am really sorry for intruding. I know it was wrong. But I did try to reach you. And I was worried. You seemed like you were making rash decisions, and maybe overwhelmed by it all. It’s a lot to take in. I didn’t want you to do anything crazy.”

  “I’m the crazy one?!” I wave my arms around, and the light from the chandelier really catches the sparkles on my dress and the chrome of my nails. Probably because I am standing on my bed, a little unbalanced, just a few inches from the light fixture. Not my best moment. Brayden just grins and keeps petting my dogs.

  “Will you let me explain?” he softly pleads in a way too calm voice. He’s even more attractive in person than in my imaginings. Here, there’s this presence and vitality and even power. And knowledge. I get the sense he could be a professor or something, and it makes sense to me that he publishes articles on the internet and studies people.

  “Wait, are you here to study me? I’m not okay with any of this.” I plop down in a pouf and a bounce, admitting defeat to his presence but not my rights to indignation.

  He captures my gaze with puppy dog eyes, and between the three of them I can’t believe I’m letting him talk and I’m not calling the police. “I really was worried about you.”

  I pin him with a glare. “Don’t move.” I shoot a text to Marlowe: Possible stalker/cute boy in house. Please come by. Then I send one to my Groundskeeper: If you don’t hear from me every 5 minutes call the cops. I peek up at him and he hasn’t moved, just placidly watching me. My phone's assigned ringtone goes off, and the sound of Marlowe snort laughing on repeat fails to match the moment, but succeeds in making Brayden laugh. Maybe not the best ringtone, but in my defense, it sounds hilarious when there’s not a possible axe-murderer in my bedroom. A possible axe-murderer with no axe, chilling with my dogs, in a non-intimidating sitting pose leaning on the doorframe, smiling. That smile is very dangerous. Focus on the stalker qualities, Leigh.

  I put Marlowe on speaker.

  “How cute?”

  “Ohmigod, you’re supposed to focus on the stalker bit! In. My. House! And I have you on speaker. So you can hear me if I, you know, scream or something.”

  “I could hear that if I wasn't on speaker. Why don’t you call the coppers?”

  “Well, he’s acting kinda harmless. And there’s no way I can call the cops and have all the press leave it alone. That is an irrefutable step. It's ridiculous but that kind of publicity can kill your career for a year, maybe totally. So I’m seeing which way this goes.”

  “I don’t think you’re making the most logical choices here, Leigh. Do I need to stage an intervention?”

  “If you tell me about it, it's not an intervention. And I’m not doing drugs. Mar! Stop faffing around. Boy in my bedroom!! Are you on your way over? I could use some backup.”

  “What is he doing now?”

  “I asked you what you’re doing! Because if you’re not in your car on your way over to make sure your best friend stays alive, we are no longer mates! Oh good God.” I’m realizing now the fallacy of my plan for backup from Marlowe. Maybe I’ve hit her with too much crazy in the last twenty-four hours. I think she thinks I’m doing this for fun. Not fun, Marlowe, this is not fun.

  She’s silent, I realize, waiting for my answer.
“Okay, he’s petting my dogs.”

  “What? That seems, I mean, that’s unexpected. Do you mean he’s stroking their fur in a dominating and ‘my precious’ kind of way while they are chained up and growling?”

  “Can I talk now?” Brayden’s eyes are full of mirth, but he's kept his promise and hasn’t moved a muscle.

  “Hey, what? Who was that?”

  “That was him!”

  “Blow me down, there’s a man in your house?!”

  “Bloody oath, Mar, I told you--”

  “I’m hanging up to call the cops.”

  “No! Don’t! I need you to stay on the line!”

  “Mar!” he throws his voice toward the phone, “My name is Brayden Lucas. I live in Bartlesville, Oklahoma in the U.S., although I’ve been here in Australia for a few days. I am a technology expert with Rogtech Industries. Lee contacted me regarding some questions and concerns she had regarding supernatural powers. My cell is in her call history and she has several emails from me as well as texts. I believe she may have some newly manifested powers. I have a side job of helping people out in such situations.” I try not to recognize he's got an incredible take-control yet calming tone to his not-sexy-at-all American Southern drawl.

  “I was concerned about her because learning that psychic powers really do exist, and that you have them, can be a huge strain. She abruptly hung up and did not return my calls, texts or emails. I did mention in those messages that I had tracing capabilities and was on my way to check in on her if I did not hear back. My organization has been through this before and we have learned it works best to be very proactive.”

  “I used a burner phone! And a dummy email! How did you trace that?”

  ‘Well, you can still triangulate general location from a burner phone, and you checked your email enough that I could discern your location. You have a security system with 24 hour video monitoring, but I was able to hack into that, too. I didn’t want you to become alarmed and cause more instability if you were already a bit unbalanced. I turned it back on, by the way. So you can still activate the panic mode anytime you want. And I tried to be loud so you wouldn't be startled. I didn’t expect you to be on your bed in a gown with your eyes closed, so I just waited with your dogs. They were super hospitable.” He gives them an extra vigorous rub. “I’m an animal person.” He smiles like that solves everything.