Bound by Earth: The Nature Hunters Academy Series, Book 1

by Quinn Loftis

  Jax fell from a crouch to his knees, hands pressed hard against the sides of his head. The sylph came closer, its deadly wail continuing. Jax fell forward, disorientated, or so he would have the little creature believe. He had to take his hands from his ears as he fell to all fours. The sylph knew she had him. She flew in close, producing a curved blade. It looked like merely a toy to Jax in the hands of the tiny monster. Still, given the proper enchantments, the blade might even pierce his rock-hard hide. And he would be powerless to defend himself, incapacitated as he was by the elemental’s persistent debilitating wail.

  The sylph raised the knife. Jax smiled and turned his head just enough so the wind spirit could see the yellow plug in his ear. He didn’t have to do this. Zuri constantly chided him as childish for the way he toyed with his kills. But Jax couldn’t help himself. The dark elementals deserved the punishment they received. If he took a little too much pleasure in dishing out that punishment … well, he had reason to relish in their suffering. Jax grinned wider as he saw the realization dawn on the monster’s face. In a flash, it turned to flee, but too late. Jax threw his hand up, releasing the small net he’d been holding. It enveloped the sylph, tangling itself in its wings, immediately bringing the monster to the ground.

  The net was a thing of beauty. Delicate gossamer strands of thin iron wire, intricately woven together to create a lightweight but exceptionally strong mesh trap. The sylph’s screams turned from sonic attacks to wails of pain as the iron burned into its skin. Iron, mined from deep underground, is the life force of the earth. Like all dark elementals—beings of death and destruction—the sylph couldn’t abide the element of iron, so closely associated with the life of Mother Gaia.

  Jax rose and went to the creature thrashing on the ground. The danger averted, he removed the earplugs. The sylph’s wails were pitiful. It cried and whimpered, all of its power drained away by the leeching magic of the iron netting. Jax almost felt sorry for the creature. But he didn’t. Not at all. Damn flying banshee. He raised a boot and brought it straight down upon the sylph’s head, sighing a contented exhale with the resulting crunch of the monster’s little skull. One more down, thousands more to go.

  “Oh, my gosh. Did you feel that earthquake?” asked Shelly as Tara burst from the woods and ran to the campsite.

  “Uh, yeah,” she replied. “How could I have missed it? It almost knocked me down.”

  “We’re packing up and going home. Dad’s afraid that might have been some kind of precursor to the big one. He doesn’t want a tree to fall on our tents in the middle of the night.”

  Tara turned back toward the forest. She felt something, but she couldn’t accurately describe what it was. It was a feeling of peace, as if a light had been turned on somewhere. No, that wasn’t it. It was more like … a globe of darkness had been removed. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said. “Earthquakes aren’t exactly common. I’m sure it was a one-time thing.”

  “Try telling him that. We were just about to come looking for you.”

  “Chop, chop, girls,” said Mr. Smith as he hoisted an ice chest into the back of their family’s SUV. “Let’s get this car loaded pronto. We’re in the New Madrid Seismic Zone, after all. The next one might be the big one.”

  “Dad, seriously, I think it’s fine. It’s Kentucky, not Los Angeles. We’re not going to get crushed by a falling tree.”

  “You didn’t even want to come,” Tara said.

  “But now I want s’mores,” Shelly whined.

  “You can have s’mores in the fireplace at home,” said Mr. Smith. “Get in the car.”

  Chapter 3

  Two years after the accident.

  Tara stared at her locker in shock and a little bit of horror because people were beginning to notice, and she hated few things more than being noticed. And Shelly knew this better than anyone. So why her self-proclaimed BFF had gone and decorated Tara’s locker for her fifteenth birthday was a mystery. There were balloons, a sign, and a huge bow as well. She was afraid to open her locker, scared that Shelly had somehow rigged it to explode with confetti or something.

  “Are you just going to stare at it, or are you going to open it and see what’s inside?” Shelly’s voice came from behind her.

  Tara closed her eyes and forced herself to count to ten. She didn’t want to yell at Shelly because she knew her friend meant well. Shelly always meant well even if what she said or did was annoying as hell. Over the past two years, she’d pushed her way into Tara’s life with an unapologetic, relentless fervor that had exhausted Tara. She’d finally quit trying to push Shelly away. That didn’t mean there weren’t times when Tara had to take temporary breaks from the girl.

  “Shelly, I need you to go away for a little bit,” Tara said in a calm voice.

  “Oh dear,” Shelly said dryly. “Did I poke the grumpy bear a little too hard?”

  “I’m just peopled out, and you are like ten people stuffed into one skinny body.”

  “School just started,” Shelly pointed out. “How in the world can you be peopled out already? And I’ve only been talking to you for less than two minutes.”

  “You wore me out when I had to think about dealing with you this morning,” Tara said.

  With her usual resilience and unwavering ability to ignore Tara’s less-than-kind words, Shelly said, “Whatever. You love me, you impudent Jezebel. Now open the locker. Nothing is going to jump out at you. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “You do realize that calling me an impudent Jezebel is not any better than calling me a bitch, right?” Tara asked. Sometime in the past year Shelly had gotten it in her head that using profanity made her sound uneducated. She said anyone could fly off at the mouth with “damn” or “bitch,” but it took real brains to use words that a lot of people didn’t understand or to come up with your own material. Needless to say, Tara had learned many new words and discovered that Shelly was indeed quite creative.

  “Contract the muscles of your lips and mouth and make a vacuum around circular objects that bounce,” Shelly called out over her shoulder.

  Tara rolled her eyes. “You could just say suck balls.”

  “That’s boring,” Shelly said. “Toodles!”

  Tara took a deep breath and pushed away the guilt at having been rude to one of the only people who’d taken the time to get past her walls. Shelly understood why Tara was that way. She put in the combination to the locker and then pulled up on the latch. Opening the door slowly, she tried not to cringe. Thankfully, nothing exploded or started playing music. Instead, there was simply a card and a box on the top shelf.

  Tara picked up the envelope and pulled out the card. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. The card read, Wishing you a wonderful day on the anniversary of your epic vaginal descent.

  Tara could admit that Shelly, while annoying, was one of the funniest people she’d ever met. Tara opened the card. In Shelly’s handwriting it read, Happy Birthday, female canine. I’m glad you were born and all that stuff. Oh, and sorry you can’t be number one because I was born before you. Love, Your BFF, whether you want me or not. Tara didn’t understand the reference to number one. The answer was in the box.

  Next, she picked up the small box wrapped in striped black-and-white paper with a tiny lime green bow. Tara unwrapped it and opened the box. Inside was a slender gold chain bearing a charm in the shape of half a heart. The inscription read Weirdo # 2. Also in the box was a small folded piece of paper. Tara pulled it out and unfolded it. Yes, you have to wear it. Just quit your moaning and put the freaking thing on. It’s not a noose.

  Tara rolled her eyes, but she pulled the necklace from the box and dutifully put it on. After having been a bit of a butt to Shelly this morning, she owed her friend that much. But Tara did slip the charm beneath her shirt. No need to advertise her weirdness any more than she already did by simply just being herself.

  Five years after the accident. Present day.

  The water acolyte watched as the two girls
skipped off to the fieldhouse housing the soccer team’s locker rooms. Their soccer game wasn’t for a couple of hours, but he knew they’d have to begin getting ready. As usual, Shelly was talking nonsense, and his Tara was rolling her eyes. Shelly. The acolyte imagined himself spitting the name. He didn’t like the girl. Not because she had gotten in his way as he tried to court Tara. Quite the opposite, actually. Several times he’d heard Shelly encouraging Tara to succumb to his advances. Had Tara listened, everything would be fine. No, it was Shelly’s unwavering friendship and support that was the problem. If Shelly wasn’t such a good friend, Tara would be adrift and alone. She would be vulnerable. She would need someone—someone like him—to lean on. She would trust him. Then he would have her.

  But because of her self-confidence, most of which was found in having such a supportive relationship with Shelly, Tara kept him at arm’s length. The previous day, he’d asked her again to go out with him. She’d been noncommittal. Still, the young acolyte was far from giving up. He would have Tara eventually. And not just because he’d been assigned to the task. No, since he’d been stationed at Buffalo High School and ordered by his master to gain the girl’s trust, the young man had become fascinated with her.

  The acolyte hoped the team won today. If the girls won the soccer game, they’d be going to the playoffs. Tara would be excited. Her adrenaline would be pumping. She might be euphoric enough to do something reckless, like finally give in to his charms. Or maybe it was better if they lost. She’d be dejected, dispirited. She’d need someone to console her, someone who could understand how tough it was. He could put his arm around her, pull her close. He could seduce her. Sometimes, he wished he was an air acolyte. They had it so easy with girls. They could waft pheromones about with ease, practically have women eating out of their hands. His water powers were useful, of course. The acolyte could control standing water, bending it to his will. The man could even make it rain when he needed to. But that didn’t necessarily help him right now. He’d just have to watch and wait. The acolyte was sure an opportunity would present itself eventually.

  “Did you take off your necklace?” Shelly asked as she and Tara pulled on their cleats. They were getting ready for potentially the final high school soccer game of their senior year, and they were both feeling the anxiety and pressure of the moment. If their team won this game, the Buffalo Lady Bisons would make it into the playoffs. If not, well, that would be it. Their teammates were all chattering around them, and the excitement in the air was tangible.

  “I always take it off for a game,” Tara said.

  “I’m just saying if you lose it, I’m not buying you another one.”

  Tara smirked. “Really? Because you’ve replaced it twice already.”

  “Because those times when you lost the necklace, it wasn’t your fault. The first time was because she-who-must-not-be-named ripped it from your neck, and then never returned it, even after you punched her in the face. And I still can’t believe you didn’t bust your knuckles open over that.”

  Tara ignored the last comment, as she often did when Shelly almost noticed something weird about her but didn’t quite stop to think about exactly how strange the situation was. It wasn’t the first time Tara had been required to nonchalantly play off an awkward occurrence that should have caused her an injury. But she’d always somehow managed to brush it off and distract her friend. Tara had no idea why she was impervious to any sort of wound. It was just how it was. She’d tried to find out why through research in the library and on the internet but hadn’t discovered anything. Tara had never actually asked anyone about it. She already felt separate from others because she was “that girl whose parents had died,” complete with unresolved anger issues. She didn’t need any more things to set her apart from the rest of the students at her school.

  The strange part was Tara remembered getting injured as a child. She’d always had skinned knees and had even broken her arm falling out of a tree once. But after the car wreck that took her parents’ lives, Tara had inexplicably never sustained any sort of injury. She’d been sick, yes. She got colds, the flu, and strep throat just like everyone else. But she never got hurt … not so much as a papercut.

  “I wasn’t going to let her win,” Shelly said, drawing Tara from her thoughts.

  Let who win? Right. She-who-must-not-be-named was what Shelly called Lindsey Ellis. Lindsey was the typical mean girl: spoiled and pretty. But after the little tiff she and Tara had had back in tenth grade, Lindsey had pretty much avoided them. Sporting two black eyes for the better part of two weeks tends to teach a girl a lesson.

  To this day, Shelly still thought Tara had punched Lindsey because of the necklace, but that wasn’t the case. Tara had actually punched the girl because she’d said something nasty about Shelly—that Shelly’s birth had been a cruel joke played by God and that her parents probably regretted having a child who looked like a spider monkey. Tara might have begrudgingly accepted Shelly’s forced friendship, but she’d never met a more loyal person, not to mention genuine. Hearing someone like Lindsey say something so cruel about the only other person Tara cared about besides Carol had fanned a flame inside her. The fire was always there. Tara knew that. If she wanted to be honest with herself—which she didn’t—she’d admit it was probably bitterness left over from the death of her parents. The fire normally simmered like hot coals buried deep within her. But hearing Lindsey’s words poured gasoline on the fire. Tara’d unleashed that rage on the girl, tearing her apart verbally and then causing damage to her prize possession—her face.

  It was the only fight Tara had ever been in—well, besides on the soccer field, but those didn’t count. After that, most people decided she was unhinged. Apparently, being crazy made people too scared to mess with you. It was a win in her book.

  “And what about the second time?” Tara asked.

  Shelly huffed. “You lost it on a roller coaster ride I forced you to go on. So it was mostly my fault.”

  Tara shook her head at her friend. “You have some strange logic. And you’re too nice for your own good. I would have kicked me to the curb a long time ago.”

  “How do you know that my niceness isn’t just a front, and I secretly have a voodoo doll made out of your hair that I’m saving to use when you finally push me too far?”

  Tara laughed. “That sounds strangely accurate for something you might do to get revenge. Remind me to search your room the next time I’m over.”

  “Whatever, lady of the evening.”

  “Or you could just say hoe.”

  Shelly continued without pause, as she often did when Tara corrected her bizarre habit of cursing in a way that wasn’t actually cursing. “You know you couldn’t live without me. You’d have nobody to grumble and bark at.”

  Tara didn’t respond. Shelly didn’t know how true her second statement was. Tara didn’t even want to acknowledge it because she didn’t want to have attachments. She didn’t ever want to feel again the pain she’d felt when she lost her parents if something ever happened to Shelly. But the truth was, over the past six years, Shelly had kept Tara from imploding. Though Tara still hadn’t come to a place of acceptance of her parents’ deaths, Shelly had helped her avoid the emotions that threatened to drown her. She was able to lock most of the pain away, and Shelly was an easy distraction. Over time, Shelly had become more than just a distraction. She’d become someone Tara genuinely liked and cared for, even if she was annoying sometimes, most of the time, okay pretty much always.

  There was a bang on the locker room door, and then they heard Coach’s voice. “Let’s go. This game isn’t going to play itself. Get your butts out here.”

  The noise in the locker room suddenly amped up. Tara could feel her blood pumping through her veins as her heart picked up its pace. She always felt this way before a game. It was like a high, and she loved it. The only feeling that came close to it was when she was out in the wilderness. She’d been camping lots of times over the years with Shel
ly, and it was through those camping trips that Tara discovered her love of being surrounded by trees, mountains, the smell of the earth, and the sounds of the critters. It was invigorating.

  “Hey, Thompson, could you please not clobber anyone tonight?” Becca, their sweeper, asked.

  “Agreed,” Desiree, the right halfback added. “Let’s not get red-carded in the first half. Though I loath to admit it, you’re a damn amazing forward … when you’re not knocking chicks on their asses.”

  Tara saluted the two girls and then followed Shelly out to the field. She didn’t bother getting in a verbal sparring match. That was Shelly’s thing. Ignore and avoid was Tara’s modus operandi … unless she got pushed too far. Then her modus operandi became very hands on.

  “I don’t know why they have their underwear up their butts. You’ve only been yellow-carded. And the last person to get in a fight during a game was Desiree,” Shelly said as they jogged onto the field to begin their warm-ups.

  “She called the girl a cotton-headed ninny muggins, and then the girl slapped her. While I appreciate the Elf reference, I don’t think that can properly be considered a fight.”

  Shelly snorted out a laugh. “Gah, that was hilarious. Although the funniest part was what you did.”

  Tara shook her head. That hadn’t been her finest moment. The other team had been taking cheap shots at them all night, sliding straight at their knees or wrapping their foot around their ankles when the ref wasn’t looking. It had been frustrating to say the least. When Desiree had gotten fed up with it and tried to put one of the other team’s players in her place, well, she’d only gotten embarrassed. You can’t call someone a cotton-headed ninny muggins and not expect to get embarrassed. The fact that she got slapped just added insult to injury. So, Tara, always the exemplification of diplomacy, had walked over to Desiree just after the other girl had slapped her, and promptly slapped her on the other cheek. Desiree had screamed like a banshee, but Tara had simply walked back to her position and continued playing.