by C. J. Felver
Inside the room there’s a chair and padded table-looking thing, both covered in vinyl. It looks so out of place in this room, along with the makeshift hand sanitizing station, identical to the one in the last room.
Sitting beside a little table is a dark-haired woman—Gunn, I’m assuming. There’s a tattoo on her collarbone and her bangs cover one side of her face.
“Hey, girl. Let’s see that paper,” she says, reaching for the paper clutched in my hand. I give it to her immediately. “Alright, Cleo. Looks like you’re getting a water symbol today. Go ahead and take a seat. Get comfortable.”
I do as she says, but it’s difficult to get comfortable, so I settle for just sitting there. Gunn riffles through pages in a binder laid out on the table. After a second, she finds what she needs and pulls it from its protective sleeve and grabs a bottle of something, setting everything down on the other end of the table.
“Alright, I’ll be back in a shake. Just gotta wash my hands.”
I nod in response and she walks away. I glance at the binder, noting the many page protectors containing what I’m guessing must be the predetermined design for each elemental affinity. They’re just small enough to fit on a wrist as petite as mine, but just big enough to be noticeable.
Gunn must be meticulous, because it takes her longer to wash her hands than I would’ve expected, but she returns and pulls a pair of black disposable gloves onto her hands.
“Okay, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” she asks. I shake my head. “Alright, another first timer. So, I need your right wrist. What I’m going to do is shave and clean the area to prep, apply the stencil, then we’ll get started with the actual tattoo.”
“Okay,” I reply, pushing up my sleeve and offering up my wrist. Gunn doesn’t hesitate getting started. I take advantage of the silence. “So, Gunn? Is that your last name?”
“Well, it was my last name before getting married,” she says, shaving a small area on the inside of my wrist. “I started tattooing before that happened. The name worked with the profession, so it stuck. My first name is Natasha.”
“That makes sense,” I muse, watching her wipe my wrist with something and apply the stencil. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Over ten years. I started right after I finished my tour with the Navy.”
“Oh, wow.” She honestly doesn’t look old enough to have done any of that, but looks can certainly be deceiving. “Thank you for your service.”
Natasha nods her head in an appreciative manner and wipes my freshly shaved wrist. Thankfully, the marks from being restrained earlier this week have already healed and faded. She grabs a wad of paper towels and holds them to the underside of my wrist as she sprays it with some sort of solution and wipes it once more.
“I always wanted to join the military. But … after high school, some things happened and joining was no longer in the cards.” My nerves must be making my lips pretty loose. Or Natasha just seems like the type of person who is easy to talk to. I’ll bet her clients always tell her their life stories, just like hairdressers.
“Man, that sucks. Sometimes things just happen,” she says, reaching for the stencil and a container on the table behind her. After applying something cold to my wrist, she pats the stencil into place and gently pulls the paper back, leaving behind a thick outline of a circle with a teardrop shape in its center.
Standing up, Natasha addresses me. “Alright, I just need to set up a few other things before we get started.” She busies herself pulling things out and opening plastic packages, but my mind shuts down. I’m too numb to pay attention.
What am I doing? Staring at this stencil on my wrist is surreal. I can’t really let her put it permanently on my skin, can I?
No, I can’t. Not after everything I’ve been through. Not after everything I've survived. But I don’t see a way to get out of this now.
Natasha comes back and pulls on a fresh pair of gloves. From the table, she picks up the tattoo gun she must’ve just unpackaged. She dips the needle into a tiny container of blue ink and it buzzes to life. I look down to see her pumping a pedal with her foot.
Under different circumstances, this would be super fascinating, but this is definitely not the way I wanted my first tattoo to go.
An AGAS guard bursts into the room. Natasha takes her foot off the pedal, effectively turning off her machine, and pulls it away from my skin.
“What are you doing, Angela? Don’t come over here,” Natasha tells the guard, “you’ll contaminate my workspace.” I don’t miss the hint of scorn in her voice, and I don’t bother hiding my smirk.
“I need to see this one’s paperwork. There’s been a mix-up.”
“What are you talking about?” Natasha asks.
Angela—a robust woman, even shorter than me—lets out an exasperated sigh. “This elemental wasn’t supposed to be in your line. That’s the mix-up.”
Holy shit.
I always thought it was super cliché when books or movies would depict the earth standing still when the main character had an epiphany, but I get it now. I’m pretty sure time stops for a moment as things click into place. Bile works its way up to my throat.
“Holy shit,” I say, swallowing back the bile. My mouth is dry. “That was his plan.”
“Got it, Cleo. On my way,” Wren says over the communicator.
“The ink was his plan all along.”
“Girl, what room are you in? As soon as I find Reese, I’ll be there,” Lyza says.
“Lyza, you focus on getting Reese out of there. I’ll find Cleo and make sure she gets out. Zander, any luck on Aulder?”
“Not yet,” Zander replies, “but I’m still on it.”
“What plan? Who are you talking about?” Natasha asks me, turning her attention away from Angela.
I look up at her, taking in her confused expression.
“Aulder Har—”
Angela rushes me, fist pulled back, ready to punch.
As quick as I can, I roll out of the chair. Her fist glances off the headrest, but she recovers instantly.
“Doctor Harlow warned us that you’d cause trouble,” Angela says with a snarl. She edges around the chair. I plant my feet and ready myself for a fight, calling up a stream of water. Of course Aulder warned his guards I’d cause trouble. Time to live up to that expectation.
Angela charges, but before she gets close, Natasha is there. She lands her own punch to Angela’s head, knocking her out.
“Cleo, more AGAS guards are coming your way,” Zander tells me.
“Thanks,” I say to both Natasha and Zander.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Natasha asks.
“Aulder Harlow set up elementals.”
“You mean the dude behind this whole thing?” She gestures around the room.
“Yep, he’s the one,” I confirm, wondering why he warned his crew that I’d cause trouble but didn’t have some sort of plan to just take me out from the get-go. “Good actor, huh?”
“Totally had me fooled. What were you saying about the ink before you were interrupted?”
“Here’s the short version: he’s trying to eliminate most elementals with a serum. I’m ninety percent sure he put it in some of the tattoo ink.”
“That’s disgusting,” Natasha says, her lip curls back and her nose scrunches up. I nod. “I had no idea. If I had known, I never would’ve agreed to this. Why only some?”
As we move toward the door—we need to find where the serum is being kept now that we know what to look for—I think over my answer for a moment. How much do I tell her? Even though she helped me out, I don’t know anything about her.
“I’m pretty sure whoever he didn’t plan to drug, he has other plans for,” I say, keeping it vague.
“That sounds … disturbing,” she says. More AGAS guards are waiting as we open the door. This time, I call to the water in my pouches, pulling a stream around me.
I lash out at the first one, using the water as a
whip. He moves back, allowing me to move further into the hallway. Around me, gasps are audible as other elementals watch the chaos unfold.
Down the hall, I hear shouts. I don’t have to look to know who it is. From what I hear over the comms, Lyza has already found Reese.
A gust of wind blows down the length of the hall. It stirs the guards, but only a little. I snap the stream of water, lashing out at the next guard.
There are at least four of them blocking our way to the exit. If we can push our way past them, we won’t have to worry about taking them all out.
Lyza steps in beside me, Reese on her other side. The hair on my arms raises slightly as Lyza calls on her electricity. Things seem a bit more even now.
Focusing on one guard, I dodge his attempt to grab me. He comes at me a second time, fist raised, but I block it with a water shield. My own punch lands on his jaw with a satisfying thwack.
“You all need to get out of there. Someone just called for backup. At least three units are on the way,” Zander informs us.
I can hear Wren fighting with someone as well. Thinking he must be in the hall with us, I chance a look around. I don’t see him. Where is he?
Pain explodes in my cheek. I stumble into the wall. Spots dance across my vision. I blink a few times, trying to clear it. Pushing myself away from the wall, I manage to move out of the way in time to see a blurry figure lunge toward me.
By instinct, I throw a series of punches. Not all of them hit their mark.
I take another blow to the stomach. The air is driven from my lungs. Holy shit, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. But what’s a couple more bruises?
I force myself upright, throwing out another series of jabs and kicks. This time, each one hits exactly where intended. Staring at the guard crumpled on the floor, I wince as I catch my breath. There’s no time to waste though. We have our opening. It’s time to get out of here and find the serum-infused ink.
“What happened?” a voice asks from behind me. It’s Mark. Why would he still be here? He glances from me to Lyza, then from Natasha to the AGAS guards on the floor. His brows pinch together.
“Aulder Harlow. He set this up as—”
“Sayers!” Someone shouts. One of the AGAS crew must recognize Wren. “Sayers, you fucking traitor! You turned your back on all of us,” he says, holding his arms wide. “You’re gonna pay for it.”
Well, that’s wonderful. I roll my eyes and groan. This is not what we need right now.
Wren’s glare turns lethal, reminding me of the first few times I saw him. His jaw ticks with his anger. The transformation is unnerving.
“There’s a unit of cops on their way to the front entrance,” Zander tells us.
Great.
We just went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. That has to be some sort of record. I hop up onto one of the benches, looking around at everyone. The faces staring back up at me are a mix of confusion, fear, and anger.
“Aulder Harlow is a con artist,” I shout to the crowd. “He set up this registration to get rid of elementals he doesn’t feel are worthy. Whoever is left, he wants to use our powers for himself. Some of the tattoo ink has been sabotaged with a serum to rid us of our powers. He’s been manipulating us and lying to everyone. It’s time to put a stop to him.”
“That can’t be,” someone says.
“I don’t believe you,” another voice calls out.
“I’m not going to fight you,” Wren says through gritted teeth. Down the hall, his old colleagues are posturing up to him. Wren’s whole body seems to be shaking with rage.
“Any second, Cleo,” Zander warns.
“Look,” I shout, desperation seeping through my words. “I didn’t come here to sway anyone. I came here to—”
“Cleo Daniels,” a voice calls out from the direction of the main entrance, cutting me off in my rant. “You’re being detained.”
Storm
Lyza bursts out into laughter. “To detain you, first they have to catch you,” she whispers to me.
Making his way toward me, from the front entrance, is the cop from the other day.
“Why?” I blurt in reference to his statement.
“For refusing the identity mark,” he announces.
“Oh shit. They were serious about that?” Lyza says. After all the jokes she made about the “identity marks,” it makes sense she didn’t think they were serious about them.
“Of course they were,” I say with a snort. “Aulder is all about control.” This is the least surprising turn of events. “I told you this cop was shady, Lyza.” I hop off the bench, striding toward the officer. “But you didn’t believe me. Do you believe me now? Besides …” I turn back to the officer in question, who looks affronted, “I didn’t refuse the identity mark. I was attacked before she could get started on it. Get your facts straight.” I hold up my arm, showing the stencil still sitting on my skin. I can’t help feeling a little smug about the situation. With all these witnesses, how can he really detain me?
Plus, like Lyza said, they have to catch me first.
He sighs, looking down at the ground for a moment. When he looks back at me, he appears to be collected. “You can come peacefully, or we can detain you by force. What will it be, Miss Daniels? The choice is yours.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Do you really think I’ll let you detain me? Not a chance.”
“I was hoping you would, but it looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”
I just had to open my big fat mouth, didn’t I? Good grief. On the other side of the hallway, Wren is now engaged with two of those AGAS asshats. Taking a deep breath—which freaking hurts, by the way—I ready myself for another fight.
“Hey, girl, you wanna end this quick, or give them a show?” Lyza whispers close to my ear.
“Can we do both?”
Reese rolls her eyes. “You girls are ridiculous, you know that?”
“Eh, it’s the little things,” Lyza shrugs, spiking the electricity in the room. Reese spins her finger in a circular motion, pulling the air around with it. A moment later, a small whirlwind sits in her palm.
The officer is close enough now for me to see his name on his uniform. Officer L. Rowe. At least now I have a name to put to his face. Reaching behind himself, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs. They dangle from his grip as he brandishes them at me. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you had just gotten your identity mark.”
Rowe lunges for me. He’s not quick enough though, and I see the move coming a mile away. I step into his personal space, which throws him off guard, giving me the window I need to pin him against the wall, my forearm resting at the base of his throat.
“Didn’t you hear me before? I didn’t refuse the mark. Gunn was interrupted before she could get started.”
“It’s true!” a shout sounds from down the hall. Must be Gunn. She was the only one physically there to witness what happened.
Rowe grabs my wrists and steps between my legs, pushing me back. He turns us around and pins me to the wall with his forearm against the base of my throat. Effective reversal.
“The reports say you attacked an AGAS official while they were performing a random check,” he says.
I bring my arms up and crash my elbows into his, breaking his hold. Shifting away from the wall, we circle around each other like fighters in a ring.
“I know you don’t think it’s within their repertoire, but I was attacked first. A girl’s gotta defend herself.” I spread my arms with a shrug.
“She was right! I can’t—it’s gone!” someone screams hysterically.
This is followed by more shouting and cries of realization from elementals no longer able to connect with their power.
Searing anger wells inside me, filling me, overflowing, making it hard to think clearly.
This was bound to happen. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop it completely. Deep down, I had known from the start. But hearing the terror in those elementals’ voices, se
eing the looks on their faces … so much like my dad. I feel their hopelessness settling over me like a blanket. The crushing grief, same as I felt when I was strapped to that chair at HSI Labs.
I look up at Officer Rowe. He’s wearing a knowing smirk.
Motherfucker.
Everything turns red. A war cry leaves me as I dive for him.
He knew. Somehow he was in on it. And he wants me to know. Why else would he give me this moment of realization without attacking?
Chaos erupts around me. Somewhere in the room, electricity cackles and wind howls, but I don’t see it. I only see the face of a shady cop. Aulder Harlow is in my mind’s eye, using this guy like a marionette.
Looks like we might have a way to find Aulder after all. I’ll get his location one way or another.
I lunge for Rowe but he blocks my strike. I hurl another punch in his direction. He blocks again, grabbing my fist. I wrench myself away as he tries to slap the cuff onto my wrist.
Not gonna happen, buddy.
His leg wraps around mine, trying to knock me down. I pull him with me and we both topple to the floor. Expanding my senses, I reach for the water. It’s waiting for my command.
I thrust a stream toward his hand, surrounding the cuffs within a sphere. Tossing it away, the cuffs clatter to the floor.
Rowe looks at me, then the cuffs. He scrambles over to me, grabbing my arms. I struggle as he forces them over my head. It’s no use. He pins them anyway.
I buck my hips, attempting to toss him off of me, but he’s too heavy, too strong. One cuff clicks onto my other wrist.
How the hell did he do that?
I mentally reach for the water once again. It swirls around his arm, rushing like a torrent, forcing his arm back inch by inch. At first, his grip on my arm gets tighter. After a moment, he starts fighting against the water and his grip loosens.
Finally, I pull my hand free. The empty cuff dangles from my wrist, where it’s still firmly attached. Grabbing Rowe’s shoulders, I roll him, switching our positions. I grab his collar, yanking him toward me.