Elements of the Enemy (Alliance Society Book 1)

by C. J. Felver

Lyza is behind my elbow, holding out a container full of my dad’s food. He takes it from her as he speaks to me. “Cleo, please be careful. Something about this isn’t sitting well with me. I don’t know how or what, but this is just the beginning of it.” He balks, his gaze bouncing around the room as he speaks. “Brand us, file us … what’s next?”

  “I know, Dad,” I say. “Go get some rest. I’ll be back at the house soon.”

  He hesitates, looking around anxiously. After a moment, he nods and follows Zander out of the building. I turn back to the table to find all of our food has been boxed up. Cheyenne is on her way back to our table, no doubt with our checks.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she reassures me. “We’ve had worse happen. No rush on these, whenever you’re ready.” She places our checks on the table and walks away.

  Lyza heaves a sigh and runs a hand through her curls. “This crap is too stressful. I just want to go back home. I miss my bed.”

  I nod in agreement as I dig through my wallet.

  “You should be able to go back to your apartment soon,” Wren says.

  Uh, what? Somehow, I feel like no matter how much time has passed, I won’t ever feel safe there again.

  “Yeah, right,” Lyza sneers. “Doctor Douche wants us dead, remember? We are not going back to that apartment. We’ll be looking for a new one, for sure. Being out in the open has me on edge. How come they aren’t following us right now?”

  “Probably because Harlow doesn’t want to risk a public scene. It’s one thing to make someone disappear during something full to the brim with people—or from a private residence—but somewhere quiet with witnesses … he wouldn’t go for that. Too much stress for him to get covered up.”

  “Yeah, we definitely need to move,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, I want our own space back too, but I’m not really sure I could sleep there again.” It might be different if someone had just broken in and stole some stuff, but knowing the people who broke in were there to take my dad and were looking for all of us … it makes my skin crawl.

  “I think my complex has something open,” Reese says.

  “Thanks, girl. We’ll look into it at some point. There’s too much stuff going on to worry about moving right now,” Lyza replies, wrapping her good arm around Reese’s shoulders.

  “While you were stuck with AGAS, did you hear anything about Joe?” Reese asks hesitantly, her brows knitting together.

  “Girl, I wish I could say yes, but we didn’t see or hear anything about him in there.”

  Reese’s shoulders droop, “Oh, okay.”

  “I can tell you that neither me nor my men ever brought in anyone by that name,” Wren tells her. She nods, her face still drawn. “Can you tell us anything else about what’s been going on?” Wren asks.

  “Nope,” Reese says, “I think we pretty much covered it. Registration opens up at the courthouse Monday morning at nine o’clock. Attendance is mandatory.” She holds up finger quotes around her last words. I roll my eyes. How exactly will they know if all elementals show up? I guess we’ll find out.

  Shift

  After apologizing to Cheyenne and Jules—and leaving a big tip for the trouble—the three of us head back to Lyza’s car. Wren slides into the driver’s seat and Lyza tosses him her keys before climbing into the back seat. Sitting in the passenger seat, I ask the question that’s been eating away at my mind for hours.

  “How is this elemental registration linked to Aulder’s plan? The more I think about it, I know it has to be somehow, but I just can’t puzzle it out.”

  “You mean with the serum thing?” Lyza asks.

  “Yeah. He said the serum would be given to those ‘unfit,’ but how does he plan on determining that? And how is he going to administer the serum to them without anyone knowing? There’s no way anyone would take it willingly.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say whatever information they get from us as we register will determine if Doctor Douche thinks we’re fit or not.” Lyza says.

  Wren stops at a traffic light and turns slightly to face us. “I agree. That makes the most sense.”

  I hum my own agreement. “But what about the serum? Where is it? How is he giving it to everyone? We must be missing—” the sound of chanting filters into the car. It’s faint enough to hear but I can’t quite make out what’s being said. “Do you hear that?”

  Lyza leans forward between me and Wren, her head tilted to the side, straining to hear. “Yeah, I hear it. Wren,” she pats his shoulder, “light’s green. Make a right turn.”

  Wren obliges, turning right. Behind the courthouse, there’s a crowd forming. They don’t look like the normal group of protestors. I don’t see any of the usual faces we see at the rallies. I look at Lyza as she scans the crowd. Her expression tells me she’s coming to the same conclusion.

  The closer we get, the easier it becomes to understand what they’re saying. “Human rights for humans only, human rights for humans only,” the phrase being chanted over and over again. My stomach churns as I read each sign in their grasp: “Humanity over the Inhuman;” “Super Powers equal Super Problems;” “Elementals: Untrustworthy as the Weather.”

  They can’t be serious with this. It’s sickening. A wave of nausea rolls over me.

  “I mean, I know people are afraid of us and therefore hate us, but this is … I have no words for this shit.”

  “Fear of the unknown leads people to do heinous things,” Wren says.

  “You’re not kidding,” Lyza replies. “Let’s get out of here before I do something stupid.” Static crackles from her as skin she leans back against her seat. The whole way to Zander’s house, little jolts of electricity keep my mind from spiraling into a pit.

  We pull up to Zander’s house and Wren cuts the engine. We sit there for a moment, no one bothering to get out. There has to be something we’re missing, but not figuring it out is killing me. Aulder had been so confident in his plan to administer this serum. If we just knew how …

  “Welp,” Lyza says, “sitting in the Jeep isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’m going inside.”

  She has a point. Sitting here and stewing isn’t going to help. I unbuckle and crawl out of the Jeep. Before I can follow Lyza up the walkway, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, halting me. I nearly jump out of my skin, but it’s only Wren.

  “Wren.” My hand shakes as I hold my chest. “You startled me.” I let out a gust of breath. If I could shake this paranoia, that would be great.

  For a moment, he stares into my eyes. Then the hand on my shoulder moves, smoothing down my arm, his fingers entangling with mine. “Don’t stress,” he says, “we’ll get this figured out. You’re not alone.”

  I lean into his touch. Wren presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips are feather soft against my skin. He takes my chin, tilting my head up to meet his scorching gaze. “I’ll help you get this thing with Harlow figured out, Cleo. I promise you this.”

  Wren releases me, grabbing my hand, intertwining our fingers, and we walk up to Zander’s house together. When we get inside, I’m greeted by Lyza’s smug little smile. Rolling my eyes at her, I head down the hall toward the bedrooms in search of my dad. After his outburst earlier, the need to check on him is pressing on me.

  There’s no reply after I knock on his door. I try again, a little louder this time, but there’s still no answer. Strange. I open the door—maybe he just fell asleep—and walk in only to find it empty. That’s weird. Zander left Pop’s Diner with my dad at least a full ten minutes before we did. They definitely should have beaten us here.

  Padding back into the living room, Lyza is sitting in the exact same spot on the couch, so I park myself next to her. “Have you seen my dad and Zander?”

  “Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “The house was empty when I came in. Maybe they stopped somewhere on their way here?”

  “I guess so,” I say. Worry twists my gut, settling there like a hot ton of b
ricks. Something is wrong, I only hope it doesn’t have to do with my dad. Especially since I have no way of contacting him with neither of us having phones right now.

  Wren plops down next to us. I let my head fall back to rest against the back of the couch, tucking my feet underneath myself.

  “So,” Lyza drawls, “any chance you can give me a spoiler for Releasing the Gods?”

  I laugh at her. “Not a chance. You should’ve grabbed it the other day. You could be reading it right now.”

  “At the time I wasn’t thinking about reading. I was focused on other things, girl. Just tell me one thing: do they end up kissing?”

  “I’m not telling you anything. You’ll just have to read it for yourself.”

  She levels me with a not-so-subtle glare, but I ignore her in favor of staring at the ceiling again.

  My mind wanders back to the feel of Wren’s lips on my skin. I can’t help but wonder what kissing him will be like. Heat once again spreads through my center and I become painfully aware of Wren’s leg pressing against mine.

  The door opens from the garage, bringing me back to reality. I scramble to my feet, heading for the door. Is that finally Zander and my dad? Who else would it be? Heavy footsteps echo my own throughout the house. I round the corner and collide face first with Zander’s chest. His arms wrap around me, keeping me from falling and making an even bigger fool of myself. A chuckle rumbles in his chest. As I find my balance, he lets me go.

  “You good, Cleo?” he asks. I nod. He reaches up, smoothing his hair toward his bun. “Can you, uh, give me a hand here? Frank is asleep in the car and I can’t get him to wake up.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I follow him toward the door. “What took you so long?” I ask, realizing too late how naggy I sound, so I rush to add, “I didn’t expect to beat you two here.”

  “I had to stop for gas. The tank was practically empty.”

  “Gotcha. Did my dad seem okay? I’m really worried about him. He hasn’t been himself since I found him at HSI Labs.”

  “He seemed perturbed, to say the least. Kept muttering about repression.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Zander nods, not turning to look at me as we walk through his garage.

  Sure enough, my dad is sleeping in the car. Usually, when someone is sleeping, they look younger. There’s also typically a peaceful look on their face. But my dad doesn’t look young or peaceful at all. His face is drawn and almost gray, as if he is sick. It makes him look so much older, and frail. I choke down the emotions clogging my throat.

  “Dad?”

  He doesn’t stir. Reaching out, I gently shake his shoulder. “Wake up, Dad. Let’s get you in the house.”

  Still nothing.

  Since bringing him back from Harlow Scientific Industry Labs, he’s been such a light, fitful sleeper. The slightest noise disturbs him. Shaking his shoulder should wake him up no problem.

  If I’m being honest, he’s probably suffering from major PTSD. That shit’s no joke and I have no idea how to get him help with all the issues he’s going through. Besides, for some reason, no one believes AGAS is anything more than a rowdy group of rioters, so I doubt we’d be taken seriously. He’d probably end up being committed to a psych ward or something.

  I try shaking him once more, raising my voice a little louder this time. It still doesn’t work.

  Well, looks like I’m carrying him, then.

  Leaning over my dad, I unhook his seat belt and scoop him up. Except, getting out of this tiny sports car while holding my dad is easier said than done. I rearrange my grip and—

  “Hey.”

  The voice startles me enough that I jolt, hitting my head on the doorframe.

  “Sorry,” Wren says. He purses his lips and I can just make out a hint of dimple. I narrow my eyes at him. How long was he standing there watching me? “Let me carry him in for you.”

  “Be my guest,” I say, moving out of the way and gesturing toward my dad. Wren picks him up easily, carrying his frail sleeping form through Zander’s house and into the bedroom. He gently places him in the bed, then backs up to let me tuck my dad in.

  Somehow, I’m going to get him the help he deserves. He would do it for me in a heartbeat. It’s the least I can do for the man who raised me all by himself.

  As I turn to leave the room, I find Wren leaning against the wall in the hallway watching me. His eyes are blazing, full of so many emotions. I’m having a hard time keeping my breath even.

  Closing the door, I cross to where he’s standing. He reaches out and threads his fingers into my hair, cupping my face with his other hand.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says, just barely above a whisper. That heat ignites in my core again, sending my body into a frenzy of desire. All I can think about is what his lips will feel like on mine.

  Until a thunderous mechanical whirring comes from Zander’s computer room down the hall. It’s a strange, almost unnerving sound. Wren and I exchange a look before we rush to investigate. Wren lightly knocks on the door and Zander immediately responds, telling us to come in.

  Zander’s fingers fly frantically over his keyboards as he works on whatever problem is plaguing his tech. Two out of his four monitors are fuzzy with gray static. The other two display images of strangely familiar rooms. The image is out of focus though, making it difficult to decipher. I move closer, trying to make something of it. The frames are pixelated and grainy, but there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on—

  Zander lets out a curse and the monitors black out before filling with the same static as the other two.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Wren asks.

  “Nah, there’s a problem with the receiver,” Zander says, telling Wren something else techy that I couldn’t even hope to understand. Wren nods like he knows what the guy is saying. Who knows? Maybe he does.

  With a shrug I turn to leave. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then,” I say over my shoulder, leaving the guys to their tech problems.

  I make my way over to the couch where Lyza still lounges and sit next to her. She’s fiddling with her phone. Like the great best friend that I am, I peek over to check out what she’s looking at. She’s scrolling through different articles regarding the recent ruling for our rights.

  Reaching over her, I click on one with the heading “Elementals Given Rights, Breakdown of Registration Process.” It basically details everything we’ve already been told, but it doesn’t hurt to be well informed.

  Lyza closes the browser and opens a social media app. “So, Wren, huh?” It seems to be taking all of her focus not to laugh or look up from her phone.

  I give a thoughtful sound. “I don’t know.”

  She finally looks up from her phone, locking the screen and tossing it onto the cushion on her other side. “You don’t know because you’re still not sure if you can trust him? Or you don’t know because of everything else going on right now?”

  Propping my head up on my hand, I mull over her questions. She stares at me the entire time. With anyone else, it would be unnerving, but with Lyza, it’s totally normal.

  But, as always, she’s hit the nail on the head. I’m mostly sure I can trust him, but how can I possibly start a relationship right now?

  “Whatever you decide, I’m just looking out for you, girl. I want you to be happy.” She shifts in her seat. “How’s your throat feeling?” Lyza asks, changing the topic. I take a moment to assess myself and my growing list of wounds.

  “Stiff and sore. It probably looks worse than it feels.”

  She shifts toward me on the couch and gestures for me to take off my scarf. Unwinding it from around my neck, I toss it onto the cushion next to me. She inspects my neck, touching the bruises gingerly. After a moment, her good elbow drops on the back of the couch, propping her up.

  “That bruise is going to look disgusting when it turns yellow.”

  I grimace. I hadn’t thought that far ahead about it. Gross.

&n
bsp; “How’s the arm, Lyza?” Wren asks, startling us both as he enters the living room.

  “It’s an arm,” she says. “Any chance I’ll be able to take a shower without messing something up?”

  “You should be okay. Typically, you’d want to wait another day or so, but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem as long as you keep the spray from directly hitting your wound.”

  “Alright,” she says as she stands. “I gotta try to scrub the last couple days off of my skin.”

  “It won’t work,” I tell her, knowing exactly how she feels. “If you need help, just yell.” She waves me off as she walks toward the bathroom.

  “Cleo?” Wren says hesitantly.

  “Yeah?” I whisper back.

  “Can I ask you something personal?”

  Personal? Should I be worried? I hesitate for a moment, but honestly, he told me a lot about himself the other night, so it can’t hurt, right? And maybe holding a conversation will take away from the creep factor this strange lightshow is giving me. “Go for it.”

  “You seem like you’re pretty close to your dad, but … What about your mom? I’ve never heard you mention her.”

  Ah, this can of worms. When I was younger, it used to get under my skin when people would ask about my mom. It made me feel insignificant. Like my dad and I weren't good enough for her.

  “Good question. She left us and never looked back. Or at least that’s what my dad always said. I was so little when it happened that I don’t have any memories of her. I don’t even remember what she looks like.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be difficult for you,” Wren says. His eyes are full of concern, not pity. I can’t express how grateful I am for that. I’ve had enough pity to last me a lifetime.

  “Nah, not so much anymore. When I was younger, it was. Watching all the other kids in school, always hearing them talk about their mothers … but the older I got, the more I realized you can’t miss what you never had. And I didn’t need her. My dad was an amazing father. No matter how many hours he worked to make ends meet for us, he was always there when I needed him, and never complained about anything. He’s always been my rock.”