by Mia Marshall
I was a young elemental and an old human. Just one more way my two worlds were always in conflict, I supposed.
Eventually, I arrived at a small house tucked well off the road. Through the trees, I saw a large lake. It was the sort of view that made me long for a camera, so I could make a futile attempt to capture the peacefulness of the moment. I suddenly found myself more than a little envious of the home’s inhabitant.
She was expecting me, and the front door swung open as I walked up the path. “Aidan!” she exclaimed, running out to greet me as if I were a long-lost cousin. Heck, maybe she was a distant relative. It was always possible. Although the day was still cold enough for me to be wrapped in a wool hat and scarf, she was swathed in nothing but light layers of sheer fabric, a swirling mess of blues and greens. Her blond hair was wrapped messily at the nape of her neck, and though her eyes settled on my face, the look they held was decidedly unfocused. This woman would have fit in perfectly at my aunts’ parties.
“Did you find the place okay? Of course you did. I realized after I hung up that I didn’t give you the fastest directions. But if you hadn’t come the wrong way I told you, then you wouldn’t have seen our town, so, really, I must have told you the right way, after all. Would you like some tea or coffee? Juice?”
I said yes, but I wasn’t certain she heard me. She was already leading me down the hall, talking the entire time about her long-ago visit to my family’s island. While she described my own home to me, I glanced around her living room. It was cozy, stuffed with hand-knit afghans and comfortably worn furniture. Framed photographs of horses decorated the walls, and sparkling crystals dangled in the windows. There were several fertility goddess figurines and books on female spiritual empowerment strewn about. I appeared to have wandered into the lair of a mountain hippie.
She saw me studying her wall art and sighed happily. “Aren’t they gorgeous? Don’t you love horses? I’ve loved them since I was a young girl, as so many do. Years ago, I even dated one. It was… remarkable.” She didn’t elaborate, and, if possible, her eyes became even more unfocused, drifting into the uncertain realm of memory. I had to believe she was speaking about a shifter, but I chose not to clarify that particular point, ignorance being bliss and all that.
It seemed a good idea to get straight to my questions, because I had a feeling it would take us a while to get to the point. “Thank you for meeting me. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about how being part human affects your ability to use magic.”
“Affects?” she asked, the word sounding wholly unfamiliar, as if she needed me to define it. “Oh! Come look at this, Aidan.” She turned and headed to the back of the house, leaving me to follow. I mentally upgraded “take a while” to “take too damn long.”
She led us to a wooden deck. The lake was less than a hundred feet from her property, and it was a gorgeous view. Lana spun in a circle, arms out. “Isn’t it glorious? I know all the waters around here think Tahoe is the place, or maybe the coast, but I’m telling you, they are overrated! I’ll take this over one of those spots any day. This is my water! I will live here until California falls into the ocean, and maybe even after that.” She laughed out loud, a big, open-mouthed laugh that started deep in her chest. It was an appealing sound, and I might have laughed with her if I wasn’t so determined to guide the conversation back to one particular subject. I had no idea how to convince this woman to focus on my questions, and I felt frustration creep through me. I reminded myself that I was a guest in her house, and I should be appreciative of her time. I did my best to manage a tight smile.
“It is a beautiful view, Lana. I was hoping you could tell me a bit about your magic and how…”
“Magic, yes! I haven’t had another strong water to play with in ages. Here, make it rain!” She actually clapped her hands.
“Maybe later. First, I’d really appreciate if you could tell me how your magic works.” I inched my way toward the door in an attempt to lure her back inside.
“Like this, of course,” And, without any warning, I found myself doused in water, much as I had done to Sera days before.
“Lana,” I warned. I felt my entire body tense.
“You’re not angry, are you?” she asked, surprised. “But… it’s just water. It’s like blowing air on a human! You can do it to me, if it helps.” She threw her arms to the side and raised her face, eyes closed, waiting for my retaliatory strike.
I knew her apology was sincere, and her confusion warranted. There was no reason for me to be angry because she’d splashed water on me and, honestly, that wasn’t the cause of my anger. I was angry because she was the only person I knew who might be able to answer questions that had plagued me since the night of the warehouse fire. She could explain why my abilities were erratic and why I had such a dangerous lack of control over my own element, but instead of listening to my serious inquiries, she was fooling around.
I spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not here to play. Maybe later. Could we go inside for a few minutes?”
“On such a lovely day? Really? Have a seat, please.” She indicated one of two weather-worn Adirondack chairs near the end of the deck, both turned to face the water. She dropped gracefully into the other one and waited for me to join her.
I walked slowly to the chairs, forcing myself to take deep, calming breaths the entire way. I attempted to perch on the end of the seat, resisting her efforts to make me more comfortable, but the slanted seat really wasn’t built for perching. The entire chair tilted forward, dumping me ass-first on the deck.
“Damn it,” I swore, jumping back up. “Can we please just go inside?”
My outburst clearly confused her, and I understood why. If any of my aunts had tumbled to the ground, they would have laughed happily and blamed it on their excessive wine consumption. They wouldn’t be yelling at their host in barely controlled anger. I didn’t know a water who would be.
“Aidan, are you okay?” For the first time, her eyes focused, and they looked directly at me, trying to understand the anger that seethed just under the surface. It was as foreign a language to her as Mandarin was to me. She knew others spoke such a language, but she could make no sense of it.
I almost apologized. I knew that was the proper response in the situation. I should just tell her I was sorry and make a quick escape, leaving her to wonder about the crazy Brook girl who couldn’t handle a quick dunking. But when I opened my mouth to speak, I found the words had fled. I looked at her calm, caring face and felt my frustration build and peak. Of course it was easy for her to be so calm. She had no idea what I was talking about.
She was half human, just like me, but one would never know it to watch her. She was light and fluid like all the waters I’d ever met, with a gentleness of spirit found among many of them. Her water came when she called it, and my outbursts confused her because she’d never had any reason to be frustrated with her magic. She’d ignored my questions about her power because they made no more sense to her than my anger had.
Lana Pond wasn’t going to provide any answers. I knew, without any doubt, that I had driven all this way for nothing. Maybe there was another half-human with my problem, but I was beginning to fear that my quest was a wasted one. The problem wasn’t that I was half-human, because otherwise other halfs would have my issues. The problem was that I was me.
My anger might have been irrational, but that didn’t make it any less real or intense. I hated the fear that crept through me at the thought that I could never be fixed, because I was inherently broken. The fear, frustration, and anger swirled inside me, taunting me. It demanded an outlet. Before I could question my motives, I decided that it would actually feel quite good to dump water on Lana, even if it didn’t bother her a bit. I reached far out toward the lake, aiming for an especially large ball of water, and found… absolutely nothing. My magic was gone, lost in the tangle of emotions now ruling me.
Being a guest in another’s house, I should have quietly apologized for my
temper and poor behavior. That’s what I should have done. Instead, with my emotions firmly in command of my actions, I let out a wordless, guttural shout and kicked the railing. Hard. Lana stared at me with round, amazed eyes, and I immediately felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. See, I tried to dunk you, and I couldn’t. It’s just… this is why I came here.” I heard the desperation in my voice, the pleading. It shamed me, but still I forged ahead. “I was hoping you had the same problem. I lose control of my emotions, and I lose control of the magic.”
She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I think there’s been some confusion. I thought you were a strong water.”
“I am a strong water,” I gritted out. My toes were starting to hurt, so I leaned over to grab my foot. It occurred to me that I owed Mac an apology for ever giving him grief about his temper.
Lana looked at me, at my misbehaving foot, locked jaw, and angry face, noting the utter lack of Zen calm that characterized most waters. “Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully.
I nodded. “I’m sure,” I said wearily. I knew how ridiculous I’d been, and shame and guilt replaced all the earlier fear and anger. I took several long breaths, feeling myself relax, then drew a quick circle of water. It was nothing fancy, but it was mine.
“Huh,” she said, watching me. “Wow. Okay, um. That’s different. Yeah. I got nothing.”
I nodded. It was what I’d been expecting, as much as I wished otherwise. “Nothing at all?”
“Well, Vivian said you wanted to speak to me about how your human half interferes, but I honestly didn’t believe her. It was just too ridiculous, the mere thought of losing your power.”
“It’s never happened to you? Never?”
She shook her head. “Not at all! The water is part of me. I always feel it. I can’t imagine not having it there, always.” I knew what she meant. It was the same way I felt when I was calm. “Of course, I don’t really get worked up the way you seem to.” She glanced at my foot again, where I was still rubbing my toes. “Maybe your human half is just a lot more volatile than mine is. My father was a dentist. Any chance yours was some sort of violent criminal? I mean, not that you’re half psychotic or anything, but it might explain a few things.”
I shook my head. My best hope for answers, and her only guess was that my father had a history of assault and battery. It really wasn’t what I’d hoped to achieve with this visit. “I don’t know. Maybe I should ask my mother about that,” I lied. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in years, and I didn’t think reestablishing communication by asking if she’d slept with a violent man was the best way to go about it.
“But, really, thanks for meeting me. And I’m sorry about your balcony. At least you know it’s well constructed.” I looked at the undamaged wood, which had fared considerably better than my toes.
“Oh, that! I hate that thing. It only serves as a barrier between me and the lake. I think every day about tearing it down. I have a sledgehammer in the garage if you’re interested.” I was fairly sure it was a sincere offer, but I demurred and started to head toward the front door.
Lana asked me to stay, to drink some tea and chat, and though I knew the offer was well-intentioned, I couldn’t imagine staying for a moment longer. It was already too much effort to smile politely and thank her for her time, when I really just wanted to sit in the car and alternately sob and beat the steering wheel.
I was halfway down the path when she called to me. “Wait! I just remembered. There was one man a long time ago. I haven’t thought about him in decades, my gosh. His name is Trent. He was my brother, actually. Well, half-brother, different fathers, of course, but both human. I never knew him. He was so much older than me. He left home two hundred years before I was even born. But I remember the old ones talking, well, whispering when they thought I couldn’t hear. There was something wrong with him, with his magic, but no one would ever tell me what it was. Maybe it’s something similar to what’s wrong with you?”
It was something. It was the thinnest shred of hope, but it was better than leaving here with nothing. “Do you know where he is?”
For a moment, her eyes focused once more, all distraction and dreaminess replaced by a look of absolute sadness. “He’s in Eureka, up north on the coast. He’s in the mental hospital the elementals have there.”
Chapter 12
I drove home from Nevada City slowly, uncertain whether to feel disappointed that I’d learned so little from my visit or horrified that the only knowledge I’d gained pointed toward mental instability. Granted, I had no reason to believe that her brother’s illness had anything to do with him being half-water, especially considering how relatively stable Lana seemed to be in her magic use, but it was more of a coincidence than I felt comfortable with.
I didn’t feel crazy, but I imagined few insane people would say they did, and knowing that at least one half water was nuts was more than a little disturbing. When I tried to access the magic and couldn’t, something felt… wrong. I felt the sense of wholeness I’d described to Mac abandon me, leaving me fractured and uncertain. I might not be a resident of Crazyville, but at those moments I wondered if I lived a few towns over.
I would go to Eureka, when this was all over, and speak to Trent. I’d vowed that I wouldn’t hide anymore, and I would keep that promise to myself, no matter what answers might await me in the small seaside town. Briefly, I toyed with the idea of telling the others what I’d learned but dismissed it. They would be kind and understanding—even Simon—but I didn’t think I could bear those kind expressions, loaded with pity and concern. With every passing day, I felt a bit less like the outsider, and I didn’t want to give anyone reason to view me differently.
I dug through Sera’s music, looking for some raucous country appropriate to my mood. I needed some boot-stomping, noisy, dive bar kind of twang, but of course she had nothing like that. Giving up, I decided the Ramones were better than nothing. I shoved the tape into the stereo and turned it up loud. A minute later, I was nodding my head to the frenetic beat, resolving to never admit to her that I actually kind of liked it.
Several days passed in relative peace. There were no visits from the FBI, no murders, no attacks on the fortress. Josiah was still out of town, and though Sera spoke to him often, he had no new information. Vivian and Simon checked the newly installed campsite cameras every morning, but there was never anything more serious than a raccoon or a carload of teenagers sharing a six-pack. We did what we could, compiling a list of all the earth elementals we knew. There were only eight still in the area aside from Vivian, and it was easy to have such a small number followed around the clock. We tried to track down Richard Hill, even going so far as to hire a private investigator, but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. His condo remained empty. It was worrying, but we didn’t know what else to do. We’d run out of options until the killer made his next move.
With so little to do, we spent a fair amount of time lounging in the living room. Vivian had interrupted my awkward attempts to apologize for my earlier behavior by holding up a pack of cards and dealing two hands, and most nights now saw us engaged in epic rummy battles. We drank and chatted while we played. More than once I looked up to see Vivian gazing at me with a bland, harmless expression and suspected she was attempting a drunk therapy session.
It was rare that all six of us were together at once. Brian typically appeared after he finished his shift at the bar, and he would linger in the living room long after the rest of us were yawning and climbing to our beds. Vivian was always the first asleep and the first up, often in class long before the rest of us were stumbling to the kitchen for our first hit of morning caffeine. Mac spent his days working on the Squaw Valley ski patrol, and when he was home he moved easily between his trailer and the house, often disappearing for hours at a time only to reappear in the living room as if he’d never left, lounging across several cushions with a mystery novel firmly in hand. I spent some time alone in my room, writing or si
mply recharging, but I never remained there as long as I expected. I’d hear laughter from below, the unmistakable sounds of Sera teasing Simon or Brian making the cocktail shaker dance, and I’d find myself slipping a bookmark between the pages and winding my way down the spiral staircase to join them.
On days when the sun was bright and the temperature rose several degrees, we’d spend afternoons outside in the crisp air. Simon would shift and climb the trees, running from one branch to another, leaping onto the roof and jumping through the upstairs windows into the loft. Though there was no one around but the six of us, I never saw Mac shift. He would sit in a rusted metal chair on the back deck, reading a book or sculpting small pieces of wood into figures only he could see, and he’d watch the elementals play.
Neither Vivian nor Brian was very strong, but they joined in the fun. Vivian would raise and lower the earth, creating happy faces or three-dimensional hopscotch squares that we would happily jump through, utterly ignoring the fact that some of us were at least fifty years too old for such games. Sometimes, she would shape the earth into carefully lined rows, and Brian would, with tremendous concentration, pull icicles from the eaves and place them, point down, into the ground. He would shape them, slowly and carefully, into lines of flowers, ice roses and tulips and sunflowers. It took him a long time, but it was worth it to see the enchanting garden sparkling in the afternoon sun, and to see his grin at each completed piece. When they did this, Sera kept her fires far from their work. These March days were never very warm, and the ice garden could remain for several days if left on its own. Sera would rather wear extra layers and two scarves than hasten the destruction of Brian and Vivian’s beauty.