by C. J. Felver
Contents
Terminate
Tolerate
Rights
Rules
Surprises
Speculation
Defenseless
Discussions
Distractions
Traps
Tricks
Trust
News
Notions
Revelations
Discomfort
Oversight
Escape
Strings
Promises
Shift
Appearances
Pieces
Semblance
Calm
Questions
Answers
Storm
Descending
Time
Curious
Control
Decisions
Almost
Lyza
ELEMENTS OF THE ENEMY
Book 1 of Alliance Society
Copyright © C.J. Felver 2021
First Edition: July 2021
The right of C.J. FELVER to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner, nor otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents in this publication are fictitious products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.
ISBN: 9798529039465 (paperback)
ASIN: B098RCGHC5 (eBook)
Please direct all mailed inquiries to:
C.J. Felver
PO Box 113
Sand Creek, MI 49279
USA
www.authorcjfelver.com
Cover designed by Covers by Aura
Developmental Edits: Lee Burton, Ocean’s Edge Editing
Line Edits: Kimberly Cannon, Editorial and Publishing Services
This book contains graphic violence, profanity, abduction, and references to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Reader discretion is advised.
For you, Dad.
I know you’d be proud.
Terminate
“Ugh, this is disgusting,” I say under my breath. I look over my shoulder, double-checking my surroundings. There doesn’t appear to be any customers nearby, so I expand my senses and feel for the water. It’s sitting in the cleaning bucket on the counter next to the pop machine. At my command, the sudsy water forms into a sphere and lifts into the air, as I guide it into the open ice reservoir.
The water continues to follow my lead as I mentally drag it back and forth across the filthy surface. There’s no way this thing has been cleaned at all in the last few years. Our poor customers have been getting more than they bargained for with each cup of ice they’ve dispensed. Grimacing at the thought, I pull the now black water out—making sure I have every bit of muck and soap with it—and lower it back into the bucket.
A throat clears behind me.
Turning my head, I see a middle-aged woman, holding a thirty-two-ounce cup. She’s staring at me over the rim of her glasses, revulsion written all over her face as she scowls at me.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” I tell her in my customer service voice, replacing the lid and stepping off the stool. “If you give me just a moment, I’ll refill the ice for you. Just wanted to clean the machine first. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Heading toward the supply room to drop off the bucket, I swear I can feel holes drilling into my back the whole way. Sure enough, as I step through the doorway, the woman is still scowling at me. I shrug it off. Who cares if the machine dispensing your ice is clean, right?
Oh, well. You can’t please them all.
After depositing my bucket, I make my way toward the front door, passing my manager, Kevin, on the way. “Grabbing a bag of—” I start to tell him before noticing the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Sorry,” I mouth to him.
He shifts, grabbing the phone and leaning against the counter. “Mr. Rand,” he mouths back with an eye roll.
Ahh. He’s not enjoying this conversation in the slightest. The gas station owner, Mr. Rand, isn't a very pleasant man. To a point, I get it. He wants his business to run a certain way and I respect that. It would be nice if he treated his employees better, though.
Outside, I open the ice cooler and grab a large bag. As I’ve done a dozen times, I hoist it onto my shoulder to take it back to the pop machine. The bell dings as I open the front door. The same woman who was mean mugging me is in the middle of a conversation with Kevin, but stops talking and glares at me as I walk past. I give her my best customer service smile and continue on with my task. After this, the coolers need restocking. There’s only about an hour left on my shift, so I’d better get started now.
The whole time in the cooler, I debate what to do with my Friday night. It’s possible Lyza already made plans for us. Not that I mind. My roommate has been my best friend for so long, I trust her not to put me in a situation that would make me uncomfortable.
Before long, I only have one crate left. It helps that I've been doing this for almost four years, so it's second nature to me now. As I finish putting away the last crate of energy drinks, Kevin pops his head into the cooler door. “Hey, Cleo. Can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Sure thing, Kev,” I say. “I’ll be out in a sec.” After stacking the empty crates by the door, I walk out of the cooler and find Kevin in the stock room. His hair is slightly disheveled. No doubt he’s been running his hands through it. It’s pretty much his signature move when he’s stressed.
“There’s been a complaint, Cleo,” he says. I groan inwardly. Ten to one says it was my mean mugger.
“I’m sorry, Kev. I cleaned out the ice reservoir in the pop machine, so she had to wait for me to refill it. I did apologize to her.”
“That’s not what the complaint was about,” he says, running his hand through his hair and sighing. “The customer said she saw you moving the water. She thought you were controlling it …”
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. Apparently, I wasn’t as careful as I’d thought. Her attitude makes total sense now. Most people don’t like elementals. The reaction she gave me was mild compared to others I’ve encountered in my life.
“I’m sorry, Kevin. I won’t do it again.” No need to try and explain why I was using my powers in public, most people don’t want to hear about it. Elemental power is a touchy subject; it freaks most people out. The more it’s discussed, the more damage can be done.
“No, Cleo, I completely understand. I think it’s actually pretty cool. I wish I had something that awesome.”
Great. This can’t be good. Don’t get me wrong, his reaction is refreshing, to say the least. Judging by his tone, there’s a definite “but” coming on.
“But … I have to terminate your employment.”
Whoop, there it is.
Wait … what? Terminate?
“Mr. Rand said he couldn’t risk employing an elemental, couldn’t risk the negative publicity it would give him if word got out. He said ‘the potential loss of customers would be exponential.’” Kevin rolls his eyes as he quotes our boss, snarling the words.
“You can’t be serious.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it’s how I feel. Now that I’ve opened my mouth, I can
’t seem to stop the words from flowing out. “Terminating someone based on their race is illegal.” Well, I guess it’s illegal when it comes to ethnic races, not supernatural races. Our rights on the matter are still being established. “Aside from that, I’ve never given Mr. Rand—or you—any reason to fire me.”
His gaze drops to the floor briefly, clearly upset about the situation, before darting back up to lock with mine. “I tried to vouch for you, Cleo. I’m sorry. Mr. Rand asked that you drop off your employee shirts by the start of next week.”
I take a deep breath. It’s clearly not his choice, so I shouldn’t verbally rip him apart for it.
“I understand.” Well, not really, but I understand that Kev’s hands are tied. “I’d like to get that in writing from Mr. Rand. Specifically stating he’s terminating due to my race as an elemental.”
As much as I thought employment couldn’t be determined by race, gender, and all that jazz, I’m not really sure what can be done about this while the government still debates elementals’ rights. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to document this. If nothing else, maybe I can dispute it later.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Rand right away for you. I truly am sorry, Cleo. You’re one of my best employees. I know this is wrong, but there’s nothing I can do.”
I stare after Kevin’s retreating form. Beeps sound across the empty store as he dials the company phone. Alone in the stock room, anger pulses through me. How can this be happening? Ugh! The urge to ram my fist through the wall is something fierce. It’s not worth it.
Shaking my head to clear the furious thoughts away, I compose myself and make a plan. Apparently, my future will be full of free time, so naturally the best way to fill it is to job hunt. I’ve seen a few places around Lawrence with want ads posted. Hopefully, I’ll have another job before next weekend.
Welp, I should probably clock out. No need to irritate Mr. Rand any further by staying on the clock any longer than necessary. I may be bitter, but milking it is not my style. As I punch my card, Kevin pops his head in the doorway to tell me that my termination write up should be sitting on the fax machine. I grab it from the tray, reading over it quickly just to make sure Mr. Rand didn’t try to screw me over with improper wording. Satisfied, I walk out, waving at Kev as I pass the counter.
This is the stupid crap you get when you try to clean the damn ice bucket. You lose your damn job. Because what? People are afraid of something they don’t understand? Whatever.
Sliding into my car, I drive straight to my apartment. The less time I’m in my car alone, the less time there is to dwell. It only takes a few minutes before I pull into my assigned parking place next to Lyza’s Jeep. I lock my car and trudge to our third story residence. If she’s already home from the factory, she’s probably lazing around in her room with her nose in a book. That’s where I’d like to be right about now.
I huff, letting out a groan as I open the door, the thrum of guitar riffs and drums drift past my ears—a telltale sign that Lyza is listening to music as she reads. Kicking my shoes off next to Lyza’s combat-style, ass-kicking boots—as she calls them—I shuffle down the hallway to find Lyza sprawled on her bed, reading my copy of Releasing the Gods. I lean on her doorframe and she marks her page, slamming the book shut. Her untamed, fiery-red curls bounce with each movement. The color fits her personality and complements her brown skin perfectly.
“Girl, I swear, if these two don’t kiss soon, I think I might die,” she says. I smirk. She has no idea. That book is built on sexual tension.
I plop down on the bed next to her. “We going out tonight?”
She sits up at my question. She’s wearing black skinny jeans and a skin-tight, white lace tank. If we go out, no doubt she’ll change into a dress and make me wear one too.
“Heck yes,” she says, walking over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. “Reese already texted me details. We’re going to this club her brother just started working at. We about to get wasted!”
While it may not be my thing, Lyza enjoys drinking on the heavy side. She has the tolerance of a beastly man. I’m not really sure if she even has a limit.
“Well, I don’t know about wasted,” I say, “but I definitely could use a strong drink or two tonight.”
Immediately, she picks up on my change of tone. She looks up at me; her brows furrow as her head tilts to the side.
“Girl, did something happen? You’ve got that melancholy thing going on.”
“My schedule just opened up for a while,” I say, trying to lighten my mood by joking. It doesn’t change the fact that it happened, but it makes me feel a tiny bit better joking about it. “I got fired today. I guess my boss didn’t want to lose potential business because of what I am.”
Her mouth drops open, but only for a moment before her features turn murderous.
“What? Girl, nuh-uh. That’s not even right. How can they fire you based on that?”
“Considering the fact that we don’t have rights in that regard yet,” I say, shrugging, “it looks like Rand can get away with whatever the heck he wants. Don’t worry though, I did cover my bases. When we do get our rights, I’ll roast his ass.”
Lyza nods approvingly and ducks into her closet, rummaging around and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The problem is, too many people are scared of my kind—or, rather, the abilities we possess—and think we don’t deserve the same basic rights as normal human beings.
In my eyes, it’s a gift. It’s not like we choose to have the power to control a specific element. We’re born with it. It’s passed on genetically, parent to child. My dad, Frank, is the one who gave me my ability to influence water. He taught me everything he knew before disappearing.
That’s the only physical trait he passed on to me, though; I definitely did not get my deep olive skin, mahogany hair, and mossy green eyes from him. No—those traits came from my womb donor.
Honestly, though? It freaking sucks to be treated like this, but all I can do is bide my time until the government gets their act together. Well, that and stand up at the rallies held during the hearings while delegates debate over our proposed bill of rights. It’s something Lyza and I have made a point of doing for the past two years during this lengthy debate. Reese joins us when she can, but not often.
“You rallying Monday?” I ask.
Lyza pops her head out of the closet, brows pinched together and a frown pulling on her lips. “Are we really making a difference, Cleo?” she asks, her serious expression never wavering. “Those people don’t give two shits about us. They don’t even think we deserve basic freaking rights. Why parade around in front of them all?” Her voice starts to rise in pitch and she waves her hand around in agitation. “And let’s not even consider what could happen if AGAS shows up this time. I’m getting tired of it.”
The Anti Government Alliance Society, or AGAS as they’re more commonly known, sucks. Highly trained jerks who have it bad for elementals and don’t want the Government Alliance Treaty to come about. They operate under the ruse of a scientific company, Harlow Scientific Industries.
Whenever they show up, things get weird. The police pretend AGAS doesn’t exist, but I’m positive they’re responsible for at least a few missing elementals.
“People fear what they don’t know, Lyza. I lost my job because of that today, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit on my butt and let fear mongers continue to walk all over us. That’s why we started going to the rallies to begin with. Do—”
Lyza sticks her hand up, halting my next question in its tracks. She blinks dramatically, fluttering those crazy long eyelashes. “You have a point, but I need details. Girl, you gotta tell me what exactly happened when you got fired.”
“Nice change of subject,” I tell her. She shrugs innocently as I launch into a recount of the details of my termination. From the ice lady to Mr. Rand. Saying it out loud makes it seem all the crazier.
“We’ll find you som
ething, girl. Maybe Reese’s brother can hook you up with a job. Perks of being tight with the assistant manager’s sister.” Lyza wiggles her eyebrows at me, but I wave her off. I might need a new job, but I’m not looking for handouts from friends.
“I know what will cheer you up,” she says, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the kitchen. “I’m going to cook you some dinner.”
This girl knows exactly how to cheer me up. Lyza must have been a chef in her past life, because she can cook like no other.
Tolerate
The thunderous bass reverberates through my entire body as I stand outside the club with Lyza. Tonight, she has pulled her curls back into a low bun with a few loose, framing her face. Her deep, sunset-orange dress hangs off of one shoulder with ruching up the sides.
There’s a huge line waiting to get in, wrapping down the side of the building and around the corner, ending pretty close to where Lyza parked her Jeep the next block over. At the door, a bouncer is keeping tabs on the line. He’s a hulking mass of a man. His shirt is stretched to the max, threatening to tear at the slightest flex. Reese walks up to him, tucking her pin straight, auburn hair behind her ear. She recently cut it, so it falls to her shoulders now. Her green dress highlights her hazel eyes perfectly, hugging every curve.
Even though the weather is mild, the skin on my legs prickles with the breeze. I tug my dress lower but it doesn’t do much—there isn’t enough fabric to spare. It’s a green number, a deeper green than Reese’s. Where hers is sleek, mine has a lace overlay. Lyza, with her fantastic taste, picked my dress out. I feel incredible.
“You ready?” Reese half shouts, startling me from the lack of hearing her approach. If the music is this loud and we aren’t even inside yet, I can only imagine the headache I’m going to have tomorrow. That’s before factoring in any alcohol.
Together, the three of us walk up to the door. I’m surprised when the bouncer’s shirt stays intact as he opens the door for us, a small smile on his face as he nods.