Quintessence (Statera Saga Book 2)

by Amy Marie

  The two are staring at me as if I’m speaking an ancient language.

  A small laugh escapes me. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I didn’t really get anything out of it other than at the end, the statue of Zeus was broken and thunder started to roll. Just then I woke up and this storm was going on.”

  “Zeus was known as the god of thunder and ruler of the sky. Was he part of the statues of the gods of air?” Uncle Mike asks.

  “I assumed so. But it was like the air gods were angry. Like I let the statue break or something.”

  “Isn’t it a metaphor?” Char asks after a moment.

  We both turn to her, surprised.

  “I mean, c’mon. You think you’re in trouble for letting the statue break. Aria’s death wasn’t your fault, Nora. And even if one statue is broken, how many more were there? Maybe there could be other possibilities. Maybe there’s something about Zeus that can lead you to the next one with potential.”

  “My word Charity, where did that come from?” Uncle Mike laughs.

  “I have to pull my weight once in a while. I’m more than just a pretty face on this team,” she yawns, checking her phone for the hundredth time.

  “You certainly are. We’ll have to look closer into the Greek mythology stories. Perhaps it can give us some sort of–,” Uncle Mike stops, interrupted.

  There’s a loud crash outside and something heavy thuds against the door.

  I shrink in fear, remembering the shadow of the black cloak I saw in the street, but Char jumps up and rushes to the door.

  Two men are waiting on our doorstep, with a third limp form in their arms.

  Chapter 18

  “Rafe!” Char yells, despite the hour.

  I put my hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. Uncle Mike ushers Darcy and Dylan in, carrying Rafe. I lead the way to the basement to keep them out of sight from Selma and Eddie when they wake.

  Char moves to find some old towels in the laundry room. She comes back in and spreads them over a spare couch for Rafe to lay on.

  “What on earth happened?” Uncle Mike asks, low voice shaking.

  “We were attacked,” says Darcy, grunting as he lays Rafe onto the couch.

  “Talbot?” I ask.

  “He was definitely behind it,” responds Dylan. “He must’ve been waiting for us. He set up a trap at the side of the road. He had some more empty-eyed jockeys he was controlling.”

  “They appeared to be stranded travelers. They signaled us to pull over for assistance, and one of them tore Rafe right out the window,” says Darcy.

  “How did you fight them?” I ask.

  Darcy’s face darkens. “We used the fire and pepper spray element weapon. They were just normal people being controlled, so it caught them on fire and burnt them. But they just kept on going under his control, like robots. We could have killed them.”

  “Luckily, the storm had started, and I could just use the water to knock them out while we got Rafe away. It’s probably the only thing that saved them from burning alive,” Dylan explains.

  I scan Rafe’s unconscious form. He’s been beaten up pretty bad. One whole side of his face is bruised. Char is stroking a small spot on his head. It’s the only spot that doesn’t look swollen or bloody.

  I move to the bathroom and fill a bucket with warm soap water. I hand the bucket and a washcloth to Char for her to clean him up. I’ll have to get some medical supplies from the first aid kit upstairs.

  “If the spray weapon didn’t immobilize them, then the element safeguard probably won’t keep the people under his control out, will it?” I ask, turning to Darcy.

  “We did not give them a chance to follow us. Do not worry,” Darcy strokes my back, easing some tension. I finally register that he’s here and he’s safe. My arms wrap around him in a sudden and grateful hug.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  “Much better now,” he half-smiles down to me, kissing my forehead.

  “Talbot’s been busy,” says Uncle Mike, shaking his head. “With everything that’s happened, I believe it’s safe to assume he knew we were coming.” He paces the length of the basement recreational room.

  “What else has happened?” Darcy asks.

  I explain the connection I made with Aria, and her unfortunate demise at the hands of the destructor. The color drains from Darcy’s face in shock.

  “So, we’ve lost the air elemental?” Dylan asks.

  “I’m afraid so,” Uncle Mike sighs.

  But even when he says it, it doesn’t seem true. Every part of me is grasping on to blind faith that there’s another way. My eyes meet Darcy’s. His look of understanding matches my own.

  Something’s not right.

  “If Talbot has killed the elemental soul of air, why bother attacking us?” Darcy asks.

  “It wouldn’t make sense,” Dylan agrees, “If he’s already won.”

  “Maybe he just wants to finish us all off to stop the knowledge of everything we’ve learned from being passed on,” I shrug.

  “Perhaps, but…” Darcy squints into my eyes, searching, “it does not feel like we have lost.”

  “So, what do we do next?” I ask.

  “Shh!” Uncle Mike shushes us when he hears movement upstairs. “Next, we hide these boys down here and get back up to bed. Selma and Eddie are up. We don’t want them to know anything’s amiss,” he whispers.

  Darcy takes over in tending for Rafe. After a few minutes, Char and I sneak back up into our beds. Uncle Mike wanders up to the kitchen to distract my parents with a ready pot of coffee.

  My parents always share breakfast before work. This morning they’re pleasantly surprised to have Uncle Mike join them. Their voices drift up the stairs.

  “Maybe I should stay home with my girls today. It’s so nice to have you all here, I just don’t want to waste a moment,” Selma says.

  Uncle Mike’s deep voice carries up to me. “Nonsense, my dear, we’ll have all weekend together. We have some work to get done today for research, so I will keep the girls occupied.”

  “What kind of stuff are you working on?” Eddie’s voice joins the conversation.

  “Researching the history of aviation and the nearby museums,” Uncle Mike is quick to supply an answer.

  “The girls love that stuff. I used to take them over to Dayton all the time when they were younger. I had a good pilot friend at the base there, named Cal. He died quite a few years ago, right around the same time Nora lost her parents. It’s been some time since I’ve been over there myself,” Eddie says.

  Uncle Mike’s response is lost to my ears. Eddie’s words bring a flashback to my mind, so strong that everything around drowns in the memory of me and Char when we were quite young, back when my parents were still alive:

  We’re on a day trip together. I love going places with the Goodwins. They’re like a second family to me. We’re running through the aircraft museum with arms stretched out wide, pretending we’re flying.

  Eddie and another man are walking together and talking. A young blond girl refuses to stray from her father’s side. An older boy approaches them and says something to the man. The man pats the boys head with a smile before he walks away.

  “Girls, come on,” the dream version of Eddie yells. “General Guthrie has to get back to his duties. Thanks, Cal,” Eddie shakes the man’s hand and gives him a quick salute.

  My mind explodes in chaos.

  I jump out of bed at the buried memory.

  General Guthrie?

  And he had a daughter. I met her before, long ago.

  Aria.

  Both are dead now. Could this connection be real?

  I bolt down the stairs, bursting into the kitchen and surprising my parents.

  “Good morning, darlin’,” Eddie says to me, pulling out one of the kitchenette chairs.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Selma kisses me on the cheek.

  “Morning,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can.

  Under the table, my
foot presses down on Uncle Mike’s in an attempt to get his attention. “Uncle Mike, that file from last night. It contained a lot of buried information. I just remembered something when I woke up,” I say.

  “We can talk about it later, my dear,” Uncle Mike says with meaning. “Your parents are off to work soon. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  I’m mentally screaming at him while trying to keep my face calm. I let out a sigh of frustration.

  This is important!

  Switching gears, I turn to the man who has been my father these last ten years.

  “Hey,” I say to Eddie. “Do you remember when we used to visit the Air Force Base in Dayton and look at the planes?”

  “Strange, we were just talking about that,” Eddie laughs and sips his coffee.

  “Well, I’ve been trying to remember. We’re headed that way to do some research today. What was the name of your friend there who used to give us the private tours?”

  “Cal. At least that’s what I always called him, he had a strange first name. We were in the Air Force together. He stayed in and became a pretty important guy. General Cal Guthrie,” Eddie says.

  Uncle Mike chokes mid-sip. He spurts out his morning coffee, lungs wracking to catch his breath.

  Selma rushes over to pat his back. “Are you alright?” she asks him.

  “Fine,” Uncle Mike squeezes the word out between breaths.

  Eddie gives Uncle Mike a strange look before adding, “But he unfortunately passed away a while back. I’m afraid you’ll have to do a public tour.”

  “What happened to his family?” I ask. “Do you ever hear from them?”

  “Oh gosh, it’s been years. I couldn’t tell you,” Eddie replies. “Why all the questions?”

  I look down to my bowl of cereal. “I saw on the news that a young girl was killed last night. Her last name was Guthrie. She seemed familiar, I was wondering if it was the same family.”

  “Oh, how awful,” says Selma, refilling Uncle Mike’s coffee.

  “Well he did have a daughter,” Eddie says. “She was a sweet girl. I hope it wasn’t her. I have no idea how old she’d be by now.”

  “Do you remember her name?” I ask.

  “Sure do. His whole family had some unique names. Her name was Alliya, I think.”

  “Aria,” Selma corrects him with a smile.

  My heart pounds as the connection is made. I make eye contact with Uncle Mike. This can’t be a coincidence.

  But what does it mean?

  I grasp for the missing puzzle piece, when Eddie decides to speak again.

  “Come to think of it, he had an older son too. Bright young man,” Eddie says finishing his coffee.

  Aria had a brother? My mind snaps back to my memory. There was a young boy.

  “I don’t remember him. What was his name?” I ask.

  “John? Hmmm no, that’s not it. Juno? Job? Crud, I can’t think of it,” Eddie struggles.

  “Jove?” asks a pale Uncle Mike.

  My jaw drops to the table as Eddie replies, “Yeah, that sounds right. I’m not sure how in the heck you guessed that one! Told you, strange names in that family.” He checks his watch. “Whoop, I’m gonna be late. Gotta run. Give your lazy sister a kiss for me.” Eddie kisses my cheek, shakes Uncle Mike’s hand, and gives Selma a squeeze before heading out the door.

  I stare at Uncle Mike in shock. How did he know the name?

  Selma interrupts my thoughts. “I’ve got to get to work myself. I’ll be home later today. Nora, can you take a look down in the basement? I thought I heard something fall down there earlier this morning.”

  “Of course,” I tell her, giving her a hug and kiss goodbye.

  When the garage door closes and it’s safe to talk without interruption, I turn to Uncle Mike, flushed. “How did you–”

  “Eleanor, we don’t have time. Get your sister and Dylan. Darcy will have to stay and look after Rafe. We have to find that young man before Talbot does!”

  “Aria’s brother? Why?” I ask. “Do you think he can help us?”

  Uncle Mike ignores me and rushes to the basement door and calls for Dylan. He then moves over to the stairway railing and calls up to Char.

  I start to ask again, but he moves past me to the counter to open Selma’s laptop. Moving with impressive agility for a man of his age, he enters the name Jove in the search engine.

  I watch as the results pop up, unanimous:

  Jove: Also known as Jupiter. The Roman version of the god of the sky. His Greek counterpart: Zeus.

  Chapter 19

  “So, the man we’re looking for is the reincarnate of Zeus?” Dylan asks as Char makes the turn into the park. We brought him and Char up to speed on the ride over.

  “No more than you are the reincarnate of Poseidon. I believe those myths to be based on elemental souls such as yourselves. Imagine witnessing elemental powers like yours back in ancient Greece. Of course, people would think such power belonged to a god. Many people would find it unbelievable today,” Uncle Mike answers from the front passenger seat. “Here we are. I think I see the memorial up ahead.”

  We park the rental SUV and make our way down to the river. The scene sends chills up and down my spine. Another park, another river. Death is in the air.

  A small group of people are gathered under their umbrellas, laying out flowers and stuffed animals in a makeshift memorial for Aria. The crime scene where her body was recovered is still taped off.

  As we approach the group, I see a young man grasping an older woman with tears in his eyes. Could it be her brother? I search for any resemblance to Aria, but see none. As I get closer, I hope for some feeling to call me to him, but there’s nothing.

  I scan the other faces in the crowd. All young females, most likely friends. Tears or raindrops cover their faces. In this weather, I’ll never know.

  “Hi there,” I say to the group. “Are you friends or family?”

  “Friends,” says a weepy brunette.

  “But she was… going to be… family,” the handsome young man gasps out the words in despair.

  Probably a boyfriend. Maybe he can help?

  “Do you know where I can reach Aria’s brother?” I ask him. “It’s important I speak with him.”

  “If you know anything, you should speak to the police,” the young brunette says.

  “Ah, no. We just wanted to give our condolences. We knew the Guthrie’s when we were young. Our fathers were in the military together,” Char speaks up.

  The older woman who’s embracing the younger man, probably his mother, speaks up. “Joe is probably at home. It was a long night for him. It was a long night for all of us. You’ll find his farm just southwest of the city between Darby and Galloway.”

  “Thank you,” I say to the woman. “I’m sorry,” I add to her son.

  After looking up the address, we drive out of town and follow the highway southwest until we come upon a large farmhouse butting up against a big red barn, silos, a greenhouse, and what appears to be a grass landing strip.

  My eyes scan the farm for signs of life. Even the landing strip windsock is flaccid in the misty rain.

  In the driveway, I step out of the SUV and a whisper of warmth tickles the back of my neck.

  Something’s near. Is it good or bad?

  We walk up to the entrance of the farmhouse. The screen door sways ajar, and the interior door is cracked open.

  My eyes meet Dylan’s. So far, this doesn’t look good.

  He waves Uncle Mike and Char to stand back behind us. We creep up the steps of the entryway, one by one, and squeeze our way inside in stealth mode.

  We enter a country themed kitchen. As we pass through, the sound of a shotgun being cocked and ready for fire in the next room stops us dead in our tracks.

  We all turn in unison to the image of an auburn-haired goddess with the sights of her barrel trained on Dylan.

  “Who are you?” she asks us.

  I’m at a loss for words. It’s hard to
think of a response with the barrel of a shotgun taking its turn winking at you and your friends.

  Uncle Mike is the first to speak. “So sorry to intrude. The door was open, and with everything that has happened, we thought there might be trouble–”

  Her aim moves over to Uncle Mike. “I said, who are you?” she repeats.

  “M-my name is Michael Augustine. It’s difficult to explain, but we came here looking for a Jove Guthrie.”

  “What do you want with my husband?” she asks, never faltering in her sights.

  Her wavy red hair is fierce, her soft brown eyes are determined, and her demeanor is strong. She’s not bluffing.

  I find my voice. “My name is Nora Hutchinson. This is my adopted sister Charity, our great Uncle Mike, and friend Dylan. Our father was close friends with Jove’s father, Cal. We’re looking for Jove in regards to the death of his sister, Aria. We think he’s in danger, and by association, you may be too.”

  She regards me for a moment. When she looks at me, I’m hit hard with her emotion. She’s scared, and she knows something’s coming. She believes me, though she doesn’t understand why.

  She slowly lowers the gun.

  “Someone’s been creeping around the farm lately. I haven’t felt safe these past couple of days. And now… after Aria,” she chokes up for a moment, but fights it off. “Joe should be back any minute. He just left to run some errands. There’s a lot of paperwork associated with death,” she says looking down.

  We take turns shaking hands and giving condolences. I’m the last to meet her eyes, but when I do, we both falter.

  Do I know her?

  She’s an older woman, but not old. Maybe in her mid-thirties? I can’t think of a way that I’d recognize her. There’s something about Mrs. Guthrie that’s throwing me off.

  Just as I’m about to ask her some questions, there’s a sound at the door.

  “Sorry, the door blows open sometimes if it’s not bolt-locked. It’s an old farmhouse,” she explains, moving back towards the kitchen entrance.

  She shuts the door, and turns startled in the other direction. Around the corner from us stand two figures. A young man and an older woman, both staring quietly at Mrs. Guthrie.