Elemental Awakening Book Bundle

by Nicola Claire

  It was better than "let's test the extent of the Aether's abilities." Theo and I had worked hard to keep that knowledge from his father, the Rigas of Pyrkagia. Oh, he knew I had some form of connection to Fire, but he still thought me a Gi imposter, perhaps enhanced with Alchemist training. But how long we could keep that a secret remained to be seen.

  For one, they were torturing me, almost daily. Although, by my count, it had been more than a day since they threw me back in here. I glanced down at my chest, visible through the unbuttoned shapeless shirt they'd dressed me in, and winced at the sight of my still healing torso. The rudimentary stitches their "doctor" had used to stop my ribs from poking through my flesh, were thick and dark, stark against the paleness of my skin.

  How much more could I tolerate before I let the truth slip?

  Another scream sounded out. Another agony-filled cry for help.

  It was hopeless. Someone should tell the screamer to save his energy. It took me a full week to realise screaming did nothing but use up reserves which were better spent hurling insults at your captors and healing.

  There was something familiar about the voice, if you can call a heart wrenching wail a voice. But I refused to acknowledge it. If I tried to identify who that scream belonged to, it could kill me. Even thinking that Theo is a prince of Pyrkagia and would never be subjected to maltreatment was too close to acknowledging who that scream came from.

  So, I counted off in my head how many times that particular scream had been heard. Scream one. There were four different screamers in this hideous torture chamber of death from what I could tell. And who knew how many were mute like me. But "scream one" had managed to hit triple figures. We should celebrate.

  A single tear rolled down my cheek, but I dashed it away. My right hand landed on the cold stone floor at my side with a thump, my dirty, broken nails dug into the grout between the blocks. Earth flowed through me. A trickle, but there.

  Shhh, it whispered. Shhh, the sound faded away.

  I sucked in a deep breath, grimaced through the sharp stab of pain inside my chest and wondered if my lungs had fully reformed yet.

  The "doctor" called it vivisection. Not a word I'd had to use in my former life. Making deli sandwiches and serving hungry Parnell workers and shoppers did not require dissection or experimentation on live animals.

  Animal. That's how they treated us. Worse than a beloved dog. Inhuman, if you could call an Athanatos human. They look human, they just happen to be able to manipulate and feed from all four Elements; Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Then there's the fifth. Me. Quintessence. We still didn't know exactly what that meant, only myth and legend from centuries ago. Aetheros, the Greek God of Elementals, otherwise known as the God of Upper Air and Light, or the First Born of the Elemental, gifted the Stoicheio of Aether to one Ekmetalleftis at a time of great need.

  We hadn't figured out what exactly the gift of Aether would entail. Or what that time of great need actually was. But my money was on a whole crap heap of trouble and a truck full of why me?

  According to legend the fifth Element should be bestowed on a born Elemental, of which I obviously was not. I was born a human, here in Auckland, New Zealand almost twenty-four years ago to George and Anne Eden. I have an older brother, Marcus, a best friend I went to school with in Pakuranga, Sonya. And until the pit of dirt incident, just a green thumb and a deli shop to my name.

  But, and here is where I become a lab experiment for the Rigas, I have ties to the Alchemists. My grandfather apparently was one. Or is one. The jury is still out on that. And the Alchemists are the arch enemy of the Ekmetalleftis, humans who have coveted the power of the Elements since the dawn of time.

  I tried a more gentle sigh and was relieved to note my chest no longer hurt. I wanted to lift my head and look at the healing skin, but it felt like too much effort, and I already knew the answer. I may not have been born immortal, but I sure as hell was one now.

  Another scream. Different voice this time. Who the hell did they have in this dungeon? Me and Theo, but who else? I would have guessed Aktor had I not known he'd betrayed us. I would have hoped Isadora, but I my luck had proven pretty freaking poor lately. Maybe Nico. Theo's cousin. I closed my eyes and breathed through the thought.

  There was no point thinking. No point trying to identify the screams, wonder why the Pyrkagia Rigas was doing this. Wonder what would come next. No point.

  I rolled over, landing on all fours, letting both hands dig into the mould between the blocks of stone beneath me, pulling as much Gi as I could from the plant life that existed in here, and with determination pushed to my feet. I swayed, staggered slightly, but made it to the cot in the corner of the room, landing in a heap of squeaking springs on top of a scratchy, foul smelling sheet covered foam mattress.

  Much more comfortable than the hard floor. I was surprised they even bothered to provide such luxuries as a bed and soft bedding. Not that the inch of foam and the filthy linen or the rusted and broken frame was anything near luxurious, but compared to the floor it was heaven.

  I traced an invisible pattern on the stone wall beside me and wondered if Aetheros existed, did God? And if He did, if either of them did, why would they let us suffer like this?

  It was probably an unwise train of thought, definitely depressing. So, I turned my attention to what I would do to the Rigas when I came into my next Stoicheio. If I kept true to form and Gramps was correct in my dream visions, then I still had Aeras and Nero to go. Air and Water. My money was on Water, because how the freaking hell could that help me in here? It would stand to reason I'd gain an Element that would do me absolutely no good at all.

  Now Air. There's something I could work with. I smiled, an unbelievably unexpected expression to effect, as I remembered Hippolytos, or Hip as he liked to be called. For a mountain dwelling, atmosphere manipulating, freaky white eyed guy he was actually not all bad. As strange and semi-unwelcoming as our visit to Peru had been, I had enjoyed at least Hip. His shaman of a grandfather was unusual, and the ill concealed threat from the Aeras Rigas was unwanted, but Hip was OK.

  If I came into my Air Element would the Aeras know and would they come to me? Hip had told me to contact him when it happened, that he'd help me get adjusted. If I didn't contact him would the Aeras Rigas come to me? Use their lightning ability to flash right into this cell.

  It was a waste of time to rely on anyone else to get us out of here. I couldn't even get out of this cell, let alone the whole dungeon with Theo and whoever else was being held here against their will in tow.

  And to accompany the burgeoning defeat was yet another scream. Scream one. Oh, they really weren't playing nice today. Hadn't he had enough? I blinked to still the tears, knowing any weakness could be used against me and right now I could not afford to lower my guard, even if it was to have a good sob.

  But they kept coming. The first time since I'd been imprisoned here that I hadn't been able to will them to cease. Rivulets of tears rolled down each cheek, pooling on the stinking mattress beneath my head. My eyes stung, my chest hurt and it had nothing to do with my previous treatment. My nose became thick and my throat closed over making me swallow painfully past the lump.

  A noise swelled in volume, unfamiliar to my ears. Wretched in its hollowness, tormented in its crescendo of pain-filled sound.

  Me. I was screaming and they weren't even doing a thing to me right then.

  I had to stop. I had to get a handle on this maelstrom of agony before they realised I'd reanimated and took advantage of the fact. My scream was joined by another and another, until I was sure all those held in the Pyrkagia dungeon had joined in. A lament of misery echoing through the dark.

  But it was too late. One by one the screams were abruptly cut off and then the door to my cell swung open.

  "You really shouldn't do that, my dear," the Rigas' doctor said. Thick black hair, hazel eyes, firm jawline, impressive physique all wrapped up in the obligatory tanned skin; the look of the Pyrkagia. Gold f
lickered behind the brown in his gaze, a swell of Stoicheio which he'd never shown me before.

  I was too weak to pounce. By the time I realised he was wantonly throwing his Elemental power around he'd tamped it out. The flare of heat from his unexpected display scorched the hair on my arms but did little to feed my Fire. Once again the good doctor was well contained.

  I'm not sure if he used a form of magic to keep his Stoicheio just out of my reach, but I was sure whatever he did, it was working again. Just that brief moment when he walked in and laid eyes on me, screaming, sobbing, writhing on the cot, and he'd weakened, dropped his guard, fed his Element when he had never done that before.

  "Now, let's see how you're progressing," he purred, crossing the cold stone floor to loom over my bed. The door was left open, a temptation that we both knew I wouldn't take. I was too weak, too underfed and under-fuelled. All I had left was my willpower and anger, and even those had just let me down.

  Maybe that's why he reacted. The first time his experiments had elicited a result.

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he admonished. "These stitches need to be removed already. Well, at least that proves one thing, doesn't it, dear?"

  I blinked at him, loosening the last of the moisture that had hung doggedly to my lashes, feeling the tears trickle down my temples and join the rest that had pooled inside my ears.

  "You are as immortal as the rest of us. Truly remarkable, considering you aren't Ekmetalleftis at all."

  His cold, long finger ran down the centre of my chest, pulling on each stitch as it slowly moved past. It didn't hurt so much as make me feel sick. And he knew it.

  "Are you going to cooperate in today's session?" he asked pleasantly, tugging on the last stitch making the skin around my navel lift in a grotesque stretch of black and blue bruised flesh.

  "Aren't you tired of this yet?" I asked. My voice was scratchy. It helped, because anger flowed back through my veins at hearing that show of weakness.

  "Miss Eden," the doctor said, "we've only just begun."

  I wondered if there was a hell for Ekmetalleftis, like there's a hell for Christians. And then I wondered if it would be hell to a Pyrkagia at all. Hell's meant to be all fire and brimstone, isn't it? Not exactly a hardship for a Fire wielding Elemental.

  I desperately didn't want to feel defeat. I knew to allow even a smidgeon in could be my downfall. Pain was not my enemy. The loss of hope was. But no matter what I did I kept coming up against harder and darker and infinitely more evil walls.

  I'd survived the Gi. I could survive this.

  "Bring it, old man," I said with a nasty smile.

  "You are so much fun, my dear," he murmured. "And because you've delighted me this day, I have a special treat in store."

  I would not let his words affect me. I would not hope or fear. I would not.

  "Come, come," he encouraged, actually helping me sit upright on the bed. "First the stitches, then your reward."

  I bit my lip through the removal of the thick, dark thread that had held me together, not allowing the sting of each tug as the stitch was removed from newly regrown skin to show. The doctor only smiled at my pathetic attempt at strength. When he was finished he carefully re-buttoned my shirt, like a father tending a child. I truly hated these ancient beings.

  I attempted not to shuffle as he led me from the cell, but my legs were so heavy, my stomach so empty, my soul crying out to be fed. My bare feet caught on every obstacle, but I was beyond feeling the discomfort of a sharp stone or protruding brick stubbing my toe. I limped along beside him, drawing on what I could of the mould and lichen that grew sparsely through the space, feeling my Gi stir, but do little else.

  I sucked in a breath hoping it might stimulate Air to come find me, but that Awakening would happen when I least expected and not on demand. I listened for more prisoners, but as always, once outside my cell it appeared I was the only one being held here. The adjoining rooms were empty, their doors ajar, no occupants trying to get out.

  Not for the first time I wondered if the screams were in my head, or simply recordings made to break me down. It had worked today.

  We took the path we always took so I recounted my steps, reaffirmed what I'd learned of my surroundings and made sure nothing had changed that could be used against me. It used to be that I'd assess everything for something I could use against them, but that had stopped several weeks ago now. I just looked for the unforeseen punch before it hit me on the jaw.

  Today was definitely a get hit in the head day, because we passed the lab where the doctor experimented on the Rigas' command. Where the vivisections were performed and I lost more blood than a normal woman could survive. Where parts of me were excised, parts were electrocuted, and yet other parts were poisoned, pickled, replaced with God knows what and then reopened to see what grew overnight.

  Where the doctor would hold up my heart while it beat in his hand and ask me if anything looked unusual to me. And then laugh.

  I'd survived it all.

  But as we passed a corner of the dungeon I had not traversed before and came to stand in front of a non-lab-like room, with a glass frontage that allowed people to view the internal goings on inside the space, I knew I would not survive this.

  A chair was brought up and I was pushed into it. Too numbed to consider the action kindness. Too heart broken to pay attention to the guards who watched avidly from the sidelines. Too sickened and confused and out of my mind to understand what I was seeing.

  But I knew why.

  The doctor sat down beside me in another chair, his eyes on me not the spectacle behind the glass.

  "You see, dear," he said. "He lives. He is quite resilient, like you. And a true Pyrkagia. The Prince knows when he is beaten. He knows how to play the game in order to survive. He's over three thousand years old, Miss Eden. Do you really think he doesn't know the rules?"

  "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my eyes unable to look away from the scene before me.

  "Because you needed to see the truth," the doctor advised as though he was doing me a favour by breaking my heart. "Because you've been holding on to something that does not exist."

  "He's my Thisavros," I whispered.

  "No, Miss Eden. He is not. Because you are not an Ekmetalleftis. You are an Alchemist creation and it is time you helped yourself, rather than holding out for a lover who spurns you at the first opportunity to further his chance of survival."

  This couldn't be happening. This was a trick. A cruel ploy to finally break me. They knew I'd weakened. Today the first day I'd let the tears fall and screamed my frustration and despair. They knew they almost had me, so they were pushing the knife in further and twisting the blade. Just to be sure.

  I stood up from the chair and took a step toward the glass wall. The guards stiffened, but the doctor lifted a hand to get them to remain where they were. My eyes were just for Theo, I walked as purposely as I could, determined to not show how battered and bruised I actually was, and came to rest on my side of the glass.

  My hand lifted, dirt stained, jagged nails, a filthy unkempt mess, and rested on the glass.

  Theo's head turned slowly and gold stared me down. There was no recognition there, not even a flicker of shame or embarrassment or anger at being caught. Just a blankness that told me my Theo no longer existed.

  A shell in remarkable good health, no abrasions, no dirt, not even a stitch in his chest to be seen. And in a stoneless cell. It was still a cell, but it was a well appointed one. Fire in the hearth, fresh fruit in a bowl on a table to the side, soft lighting, plush carpets, fresh linens and a four poster sumptuous looking bed.

  "Theo," I whispered and he blinked.

  Then turned his head back to his companion, laughed at something she said, and lowered his face to kiss the side of her neck.

  The confusion gave way to rage. A type of possession fuelled jealousy and anger that I had never experienced before.

  The Earth cried. I was too far gone to hear it.

 
The Fire in the hearth flickered and hissed. I was too enraged to care.

  The Air froze. I was too busy trying to break the glass and kill Isadora Petros where she lay, half under my Thisavros' bare chest.

  "Take her back to her cell," the doctor was saying. "I think we can call today's experiment a success. I'll inform the Rigas, although I'm sure he won't be amused. We were hoping the connection had been severed on both sides, but clearly the girl still harbours something deeply rooted in her Elements for the Prince."

  No. No. No. The only word that I truly heard was "severed".

  They'd severed Theo's Thisavros connection to me. They'd made him into this.

  The jealousy I felt still lingered, but in its place was pure hatred and fury.

  The first guard to touch me received a jolt of Fire through his hand, sealing his grip to my arm as I fed off his Pyrkagia.

  "Idiot! Where are your gloves?" someone yelled, as pure molten Fire coursed through my veins.

  The next guard was wearing gloves, enough of a protection to stop me syphoning his body heat, but I was already blazing brightly, I just amped up the lust he'd been feeling while he watched that debauched show and fed off the Pyrkagia he started to throw around as his desires turned to me.

  I was still a little new to all of this. In the past I'd inadvertently made Theo experience emotions that I wouldn't have chosen to subject on anyone, least of all the man I loved with all my heart. But I didn't have time right now to heed my conscience, I ramped up the draw, increased the guard's passionate response and then hurled my Pyrkagia outwards in an ever increasing circle of Fire.

  I was left panting, hands fisted at my sides, sweat beading my forehead, as every person in the room lay unconscious on the floor. How long they'd be out for, I did not know.

  I turned slowly to look into the glass walled room and found Isadora standing on the other side. We stared at each other. Her blouse was undone at the top, the curves of her perfectly shaped breasts were visible through the opening, displaying golden skin flushed with her recent activities.