Controlling the Elements

by N. R. Spratlin

  I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so damn creepy to watch.

  “I sure do, here I will go get it.” Tucker puts his hands on the couch to hoist him up and walks towards his brief case sitting on top of the island. Zep closes the fridge door holding a bottle of cold water, then leans back against the counter, watching Ev with an unreadable expression on his face. Tucker roots through his case, promptly finding the file and heads back into the living room.

  “Here you go,” He passes it off to Ev, who snaps out of his deep, creepy thinking, only now to look like a child that has been given a present.

  Gotta love the man; he can quite easily turn on and off his mind by only a single thought. I wish I could be part of his Brainiac glory.

  “Well, it’s nice to finally have a name for her so I don’t have to call her woman in my head.” Ev smiles, “though it is intriguing she has more of a male dominate name. Dillon Danvers. That last name sounds familiar, but I can’t place where I have heard it.” His eyebrows lift in a mixture of amusement and confusion as a spluttering noise comes from the direction of the kitchen, he turns back to the file unconcerned. The rest of us turn towards Zephyr who seems to be coughing out a lung.

  “Swallowed,” cough, cough, “wrong.” Cough. He barely manages to get his words out and promptly takes a sip of water in hopes to settle the coughing down.

  Shit, shit, SHIT!

  Zep’s inner monologue filters into my mind. I’m not the only one who picks up on it, Ev looks up from studying the file and starts analyzing Zep’s face looking for some kind of sign. I understand how easy it be for Everett to hear him first, he is after all the one who has established this alliance, but Zep must have let is control slip to force past my barriers. I’m at a loss over what he is freaking out over, that is until I get a rapid fire of pictures blasting into my head one after the other. It’s flying so fast I have to close my eyes and try to focus on just one.

  It’s an image, more precisely, a memory of Zep looking at someone. That someone, in fact is none other than Miss Dillon Danvers. Well a younger version, as she runs towards him with a surf board in hand and a brilliant smile lighting up her face. She stops in front of him and drops her board in the sand as she launches herself into his arms. She feels so familiar with him. I frown.

  They’ve met?

  I’m able to pick up on his feelings on how he felt at that time, so much so, I feel as if I am him. The rapid beat of my, no, his heart beating furiously against my chest; the butterflies flapping so strongly in his stomach. I can almost smell coconut of from her as Zephyr leans down slightly to be at her level; the grin immediately over taking his face as she smiles with such a breathtaking, joyful smile. My breath catches, and I swear I’ve stopped breathing for a few seconds.

  Unable to think of nothing else, he wraps her in his arms, holding on tightly. The feeling of completeness overcomes Zep, as we sigh in bliss as their bodies fit together perfectly.

  After a while, she lets go of him, giving him a sexy smirk that goes straight to his...

  Oh shit. I cough; I really don’t want to be feeling that right now.

  I shake it off, and then carry on watching the memory. She turns her back on him, I watch as Zep’s eyes travel down her toned, sun kissed body to focus on her ass, which is partially covered by tiny, light blue, swim suit bottoms with white, small, polka dots.

  Oh wow, hot damn! I knew Dillon was attractive, but she really has some amazing hidden assets.

  “Hey Deacon! I found Zep! He’s down here!” She shouts. My stomach drops as the realization of what she just said shatters the vice like grip he had on my mind. Immediately, I’m pulled out of the memory, slamming back to the present, none to gently. I groan blinking at my surroundings. I rub my head as two and two come together.

  Deacon……Dillon….Zep? Dillon was Zep’s best friend’s sister? As in the best friend who just died? No wonder he’s been acting so unlike him lately.

  I guess Ev has figured this out before me because he’s up and on his way to meet Zephyr in the kitchen.

  Zephyr catches a glimpse of Ev’s face, then turns to look at mine. His face hardens, and an unreadable expression flashes quickly across his face until he locks it down.

  He knows that we have seen.

  His pallor has paled as he starts to walk towards the back of the kitchen to his room. Ev froze pursuing him, realizing he needs to get away.

  “Once you all figure out what needs to be done, just let me know, you know I’m not the one for sitting around planning.” By the time finishes what he’s saying, his first foot hits the step.

  “More like lazy,” Flint grumbles and for the first time in a long time, Zep does not make a smart ass reply. He just retreats back up to his room and slams the door. I cringe and look towards Ev who barely shakes his head.

  “No, not now Connor. He will explain when he is ready.”

  I nod my head once and go back to thinking about what I saw from Zep’s mind, trying to avoid the glimpse of her ass, and what her sexy smile did to Zep.

  Great, thanks for letting that filter through Zep, it’s not like I wasn’t already having a hard enough time getting the beautiful woman out of my head.

  “Alright I guess it’s time to figure out what we need to do.” Ev calls the rest of us back to attention as he takes his seat sitting on the arm of the chair again.

  “I think we should start tailing her, what’s a better way to get to know someone than watching them when they do not realize you are watching?” Flint suggests.

  “Dude that totally sounded stalkerish.” I eye Flint up wondering if he does it often. He just smirks.

  “We need to understand her movements, what she is prone to do, how she reacts to certain situations. So, I agree with Flint, though I would like to request that I figure out her day to day patterns first just so I can get a grasp on who she is.” Ev said.

  “Okay, but let me come with you. Just in case we are needed at some point with the Mikroelementy, so, someone else will know what is happening with her.” Flint countered his request.

  “I agree, with all the natural disasters popping up randomly, we don’t know when any of us will be called in to help.” I think back to the hurricane that had come close to a severe devastation for the East Coast. Ev tilts his head thinking it over.

  “Hmm, okay, that’s reasonable. One of us can create her daily routine and send it to everyone. After we establish her pattern I say we start taking shifts on watching her until I can confirm fully on what we need to know. Everyone agree?” We all say yes and the issue is settled as a spark of excitement starts to permeate the air. We might have found our Manipulator.

  ***

  Zephyr

  As soon as my bedroom door is shut, I stumble backwards, no longer able to keep my body upright. I sag, my legs giving way as my back hits against the wall. I slide down with a thump on my hardwood floor, sitting on my butt. Not caring or registering the pain from doing so. My mind going round and round like a whirlwind.

  Dillon? My Dillon? Our Manipulator?

  I close my eyes and put my forehead in my palms, just trying to maintain even breaths while I think this through.

  How is this possible? I thought Deacon was our Manipulator. Better yet, the Lord’s declared he was. This doesn’t make any sense, not like that is unusual; little in my life rarely makes sense right now.

  I slide a hand down until my fingers are tangled in my hair; I grab the thicker, longer strands and start to pull with the intent to cause pain.

  Pain, hmm, yes, pain can help chase the memories away. I don’t want to remember, I will NOT remember.

  My heart starts to ache deeply, disgust for myself, hatred from being me, unable to get away from the dark fathomless pit that has become my life.

  I’m so worthless, I am a coward. She’s always been better off, always.

  Tears fill my eyes; I close them trying to prevent them from escaping. An image of Dillon dressed in black and Lyon in hi
s black suit pops up unwanted from behind my eyelids. I yank harder on my hair.

  I need to forget.

  The grief is trying to swallow me whole. I try and fight it back but more rapid images fire once again. My stomach rolls. I jump shakily to my feet and go tearing through my mini fridge, which I keep stocked up at my bed side table. As soon as I find a cold bottle I pull it out, pop the top, and start chugging until I have drained it all in about three seconds flat. I don’t even taste the bitterness of the beer; I only want the effects it offers to kick in.

  I reach back in and work on the second. I repeat this process three more times until I get a steady buzz going. Once it’s established, I sit on my bed and look about my room. My eyes land on the broken picture frame close to my bathroom. I stand up teetering a bit, realizing I might be more buzzed than I initially thought. I pick up the broken beech wood frame. I walk back towards my bed and fall back into my mess of pillows and blankets.

  I look at the picture once more, bringing it close up to my face, not daring to look towards Deacon’s side; I know what’s waiting for me, judgmental eyes in the form of his happiness. His face always haunts me in my dreams.

  Why haven’t you taken care of them? What kind of man are you? He seems to scream silently at me every night. I shiver.

  I can’t deal with this now. Instead I look towards Dillon and the way she is looking at me. I hold a finger to her face and run it down the length of the picture. If I could go back in time, I would do so much different; I would be a different person.

  “I’d have been a better man, a more deserving of your endless love. I would never have darkened my beautiful sun.” I whisper.

  Fear be damned

  I close my eyes as the familiar stinging in my nose starts. I sniff trying to keep everything at bay, but it’s no use. I open my eyes again and finally gather the courage to look to Deacon. His smiling face lights up the photo as his arm is slung over my shoulder.

  “I am sorry man, I have failed you, I am so sorry.” I start to mumble, not knowing what to say. I just lay there for the next few hours, holding this picture and looking between the both of them as tears fall down my face and my heart feeling like it is shattering all over again.

  They were my world and I’ve lost them both.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You know, my ex-husband used to use Pamprin for headaches too…”

  Everett

  Curiosity has always been my problem, I can’t help it. I just need to know more. I am the type of person who when a puzzle is placed in front of me I cannot resist the urge to figure it out. I have this intense urge, no, this intense need to get to the bottom of things, to understand why something is the way it is. Even down to the way each particular component works.

  My mind is constantly looking for the next big thing to figure out and when I can’t, which isn’t often, I feel uncomfortable within myself, unsettled. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything else but that particular puzzle.

  It’s even worse when I have more than one puzzle to work out. The guys say I just go deep into myself, well more so than usual, and that they are lucky to even get a couple of sentences out of me. When I’m in this zone my mind is constantly whirling trying to calculate and evaluate every piece of information I can get my hands on.

  I go so extreme that the guys have to constantly remind me to eat, drink, and force me to sleep because otherwise I’ll forget or I’ll pass out from pure mental exhaustion. As I have said though, I can’t help it. Solving things helps me feel validated in life.

  Every wall in my bedroom has a large white board where I write down my puzzles and work out any problems. When I eventually come up with a solution, most of the time it is already on the board staring me in face just waiting for me to connect the clues.

  I hate being so close to solving and understanding a puzzle as if I can reach out, grab it, claim and to own it, only to have it just slip out of my reach, like some slippery eel. I will not stop, nor will I rest until the puzzles are complete. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t, my mind won’t allow me. It’s both a blessing and a curse. So I guess that’s why I have been so fixated on Dillon, and having agreed to go along with Flint's ridiculous scheduling to be on the lookout for her.

  It took two weeks of Flint and I monitoring of her day to day activities and finding the pattern. I am a little more patient than Flint, so after he left the task up to me the first week of gathering her routines, I wasn’t offended. I get it. Not everyone is like me.

  With luck on my side for once, Flint assigned this first full shift to me. I love the rest of my group, but I need to work alone. Working alone gives me freedom to think without interruptions or presumptions. Like Zephyr. I know something is wrong with him as he has been acting even more off than he has been. At the moment though, I am not able to focus on his puzzle piece since I am too preoccupied with my current one Dillon being the latest puzzle piece which has been handed to me on a platter. If she truly is who I think she is then this will be the break I have needed, the missing part.

  I have thought the guys were making their encounters with her up, but there has never been any documentation in the history of the Mikroelementy to claim that there was a female Manipulator. This idea keeps rolling through my head as I try to tamper down my excitement on the possibility that maybe, just maybe on the off chance the stories that my mother had taught me growing up were in fact all true.

  I tap my fingers against the steering wheel lost in thought. If this is true then it could change everything us as a society had thought for centuries. This will be a find that will go down in our history as factual and not just as some bedtime story. The possibilities this could all lead to is limitless. Women will have greater part within the Mikroelementy. Even in this day and age most men look down upon our women for being less; for not being evolved enough.

  I blink and shake my head coming out of my thoughts as a large flock of birds, thousands to be exact fly overhead in multiple V formations migrating to the south, the early morning sky darken by their presence. Even over the traffic going past me I’m still able to hear their high pitching chitterling sounds. I let my earth element flow out feeling them out. I gasp. They feel scared of something, needing to get away. They are extremely focused even as they lose a few of their own.

  It must be the unusual tornadoes. I muse.

  After concentrating on them for around five minutes I snap out of it and look out the side mirror closest to me only to see Dillon stepping out of her brother’s business a full four hours early from work. I frown a little in confusion.

  What’s going on here, have I got the timing wrong?

  I pull out my cell phone and double check the time table Flint has sent me of her day to day.

  Yup, right there. She is supposed to leave work at two, so why is she leaving at ten?

  I sigh, my mind going in different directions as to why this is the case. Like another layer added onto my puzzle, I watch her get into her car.

  Well, there is only one way to find out the reason of her early departure. I buckle in my seat belt as I wait, sitting up straighter feeling the determination to solve the mystery that is Dillon Danvers.

  She pulls away along 32nd street and I eased out behind making sure to maintain at least two cars behind as to not to attract her attention. I fiddle with the radio nervously, changing channels to have the traffic update on, yet making sure to keep it on low so I can think.

  I look up still spotting the birds although most have flown onwards, only a few stragglers are left now. I concentrate back on following Dillon. If I were to be completely honest with myself, I don’t know if I’m prepared to make the mental connection with her. Sure my mental walls are strong against the others, but we have had time to build it up; to perfect it. This is different and I have no idea how I will react, especially having a woman in my mind.

  For so long it has only been me and the other guys, women just think differently. It will be a completely
new dynamic and I’m not sure I’m up for that, but it isn’t about me it’s for our people. If she is what I think she is then she will be in for one hell of a shock.

  I follow behind her for around twenty minutes to get back to her side of the suburbs and part of my layer of mystery is solved when she parks outside of a local grocery store. Well, it did make sense, she does have to eat.

  She hops out of her sedan, with her purse slung over her right shoulder, her head held high looking straight ahead. She starts to head towards the store, her hips swaying gently almost seductively, looking like a woman on a mission. I force my gaze from her hips. That’s another thing that usually confuses me, why do women take grocery shopping, well actually any form of shopping, so seriously. I frown, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel once more. I think that might be an answer I never figure out; women are very strange.

  I park closer to the front of the store and get out quickly jogging to catch up with her. I am able to fall in line close behind as we entered the grocery store. After grabbing a cart, she takes an immediate right into the produce section. I decide the best thing to do is grab a hand basket and proceed straight ahead to watch from afar. I get part way down the aisle and pick up something random to use as a decoy, basically pretending to observe the ingredients while I’m really observing Dillon.

  “You know my ex-husband used to use Pamprin for headaches too.” I jump, my grip loosens on the bottle and it slips, falling to the ground. I dive on the floor and grab it only for it to slip again from my sweaty palms. I watch it roll away from me. Shit. My heart beating furiously, I don’t turn toward the sound of the feminine voice until I quickly check on Dillon ahead, not like I can see much by being flat on my stomach in the middle of the aisle.

  I see a pair of brown sandals with toes poking out, the nails long and painted bright orange walk away from me. I take a deep breath and regain control of my emotions. I stand up slowly feeling like a fool, my face red with embarrassment. I look around the floor not seeing what I’ve dropped. The women walks back to me, I slowly take a look at her. She has to be in her late thirties early forties, with long platinum dyed hair, brown eyes that are done heavy with makeup. I quickly realize she has hold of the bottle; she shakes it making a noise. She hands it back to me, her cherry red lips twitching and I look down frowning at it. Sure enough, I hold a bottle of Pamprin, just great. I was definitely in the feminine care aisle.