Broken Elements (Elements, Book 1)

by Mia Marshall

  Sera smiled. “And you?”

  He shrugged modestly. “I grow a mean tomato, but that’s about it. And I really don’t like boats, if that matters.”

  Three generations removed from a relatively weak earth… yeah, that sounded about right. Sera grinned at him. “Welcome to the family, Johnson,” she said, slapping him on the back. “If you manage to convince your superiors we’re actually innocent, we’ll even teach you the secret handshake.”

  He laughed openly, as if a lifelong question had been answered.

  I got us back on track. “You’re right, he was killed by earth.” I pointed to the wet ground that ringed the lake. “He likes to kill by the lake, because the ground is easy to manipulate, and then he simply leaves the bodies behind.”

  “How does he drag the bodies to the campsites? Some of them have been heavy, and those trenches just don’t make any sense.”

  I hadn’t thought about the trenches in a long time. Our list of unanswered questions was still depressingly long. “We haven’t figured that out yet.”

  Carmichael nodded, and let the image we described play through his mind. Finally, he simply stopped attempting to function. He sat down, right on the hard, snow-covered ground, and shook his head. “I really don’t know what to do with this information.” We remained silent, giving him whatever time he needed. Finally, he looked at us, his face once again calm and determined. The boy scout was returning. “This complicates things, doesn’t it?”

  “We can help,” I told him. “That’s what we’ve been trying to do all this time, I swear. We were just hoping to do it without anyone learning what we are. It’s really not the kind of thing you casually tell people, you know?” He had to understand. He had to believe us. We couldn’t have taken this huge risk for nothing.

  He studied the ground for a long time, looking at the wet earth where I dropped my ball of water earlier. He nodded, as if coming to a decision. “You trusted us by sharing this with us. I guess it would be rude not to return the favor. Let’s get you out of those cuffs and figure out a way to get you released, okay?” He looked up and leveled long stares at both of us.

  “I’m not sure if this means you’re innocent. I’m not sure what I think, honestly. But I guess you’re no more guilty than any of these other… elementals… you’re telling me about. That’s something.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was a place to start.

  We weren’t immediately released from custody. They took us to an interrogation room together—one without one-way glass, thankfully—and proceeded to question us for the better part of two hours. We didn’t tell them everything, because some of the secrets weren’t ours to tell. They didn’t need to know the location of the elemental enclaves, though explaining their existence helped remove any lingering suspicion about our mysterious pasts. They didn’t need to know the names of any other elementals, though I could tell our reticence on this subject frustrated them. The shifters’ story, as well, was one we kept to ourselves. We had no right to speak for them.

  Even with such restrictions on our speech, it was a long conversation. The men listened intently, but we insisted they take no notes. There could be no record of this conversation.

  The agents seemed to have switched roles. Before, Carmichael had been supportive and Johnson accusatory. Now, Johnson interacted eagerly with us, and Carmichael looked unsure of pretty much everything.

  Johnson proved surprisingly adaptable. Once the initial surprise faded, he became focused and driven, sharp eyes turning his reasonably handsome face into something remarkable. I could practically see his brain categorizing the new information, reinterpreting old facts and finally making sense of previously impossible events. He was also fitting together the pieces of his own puzzle, but this one consisted of ancestors and family history rather than murders and motives. I made a mental note to introduce him to Vivian sometime soon.

  Carmichael struggled more, but he was too intent on solving the case to buckle under the pressure. He continued to ask thoughtful questions, and if I hadn’t been watching closely, I might not have seen those brief moments when his gaze took him far from this room, treating him to impossible images of strange abilities and horrendous crimes. Each time I thought we’d lost him altogether, he shook his head and returned to us. Even so, I suspected Carmichael needed a bit more time to process the day’s events.

  Eventually, their questions exhausted, the agents fabricated some reason for our release for the local police. They even managed to expedite the release of Sera’s car, and soon we were heading back to the cabin in the Mustang, trying very hard not to think about what had recently been in the trunk.

  It was full night by the time we arrived. Heavy clouds blotted out the stars, turning the night so dark it was difficult to pick out our own driveway amidst the pines, and we almost missed the turn. As the tires crunched on the gravel that led to the house, I felt a pure, almost debilitating relief, a feeling that was only heightened when I saw warm light pouring from the cabin windows. It was more than a house. It was a beacon in the darkness.

  Before the car pulled to a full stop, I opened the door and started walking to the porch. The others must have heard us arrive, because the front door slammed open and everyone raced out. Vivian reached me first. “Thank god you’re back,” she said. “Another day, and I would have hacked the FBI database.” She gave no indication that she wasn’t completely serious.

  “Vivian, you’re kind of terrifying, you know that?”

  She shrugged, unconcerned. “Hey, information should be free, right?” She gave me a quick hug and hurried to Sera.

  Simon moved toward me. “I don’t really hug,” he said.

  “Understood.”

  Nodding, he placed his hands on both my shoulders and pulled me toward him, rubbing his cheek against mine. “There are occasional exceptions.” I grinned and resisted the urge to pet him.

  Over his shoulder, I saw Mac waiting his turn. He stood perfectly still, but an air of impatience surrounded him. I disengaged from Simon and walked toward him, stopping inches away. “You’re back,” he said. Although he was stating the obvious, it sounded like more than a statement of fact. It sounded like a quiet prayer of thanks.

  I nodded, finding words had suddenly deserted me. He returned the nod. “Good,” he said. He grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. It occurred to me that whoever had coined the term bear hug must have known a shifter, and then my mind simply went blank as I relaxed against him. Whatever might be between us, I knew we still had far more problems than solutions, but at the moment, wrapped in his arms, I found I really didn’t care.

  It wasn’t until I heard a throat clearing behind me that I realized the hug might have lasted a few moments too long. Reluctantly, I moved away from Mac to find Brian smiling at me. “What, old friends have to take a number to get your attention these days, or what?” I moved toward him, laughing, and he hugged me every bit as tightly as Mac had.

  Sera and I were both exhausted. We’d expected to crawl into bed the moment we got home, but instead we found ourselves staying up for hours, enjoying an impromptu welcome home party. The wine and company energized us, and though we briefly explained what had happened that day and what we’d told the agents, we otherwise did our best to forget about the case entirely and simply enjoy being safe and loved.

  It was wonderful and necessary, and when I finally fell into bed sometime in the wee hours, I felt an unexpected sense of peace, and the knowledge that, somehow, everything was going to be all right, for all of us.

  I have rarely been more wrong.

  Chapter 18

  The following morning dawned bright and clear, the sharp sun reflecting on the freshly deposited snow. A few birds chirped outside my window, and it seemed like winter was finally relaxing its tightfisted grasp. It was the kind of day that lured skiers from hours away, and today the slopes would be packed with people from Sacramento and San Francisco, all playing hooky to travel to Tahoe and throw
themselves down the side of a mountain.

  But here in the cabin, peace reigned. Downstairs, I could hear muffled voices and the quiet clink of dishes. The short whirr of a blender announced breakfast, and I decided it was past time that I joined them. I pulled on an enormous green terry cloth robe and made my way slowly down the spiral staircase.

  There are few things better than walking into a kitchen where friends are already making breakfast. The coffee pot was full, the griddle already heated, and as I watched, Mac poured pancake batter into the pan. I knew he and Simon had to get their protein somewhere, but while in the house they both opted to be vegetarian, and they’d been carbo-loading with the rest of us.

  A chipped plate held a stack of the early, rejected pancakes. Sera flipped one to me, and I happily caught it midair and stuffed it in my mouth. “Tastes like freedom,” I announced. I grabbed a mug and dropped in a teabag, adding hot water from the kettle and some milk.

  I hopped up on the counter next to the griddle, making sure I got first pick of the next batch. Mac offered me a small smile and placed his hand on my knee, giving it a playful shake. It only lasted for a moment, a quick touch before he returned to his pancake duties, but the warmth lingered long after he removed his hand. I tried to remind myself of my words to Brian, that I was still too broken to consider this, but at the moment I was having a hard time remembering why that was so.

  Brian was stretched out on the living room sofa, sound asleep under a heavy blanket. Apparently, he’d never made it to the loft after that last glass of wine. Simon and Vivian sat on barstools, looking through the morning’s paper. “It looks like it was a quiet night,” said Simon, flipping to the comics. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he was reading Garfield.

  I hated the reminder of the job we still had to do and buried my face in my mug. Ostriches had nothing on me. Unfortunately, Sera had yet to perfect her pre-breakfast denial reflex.

  “No suspicious fires, either? And will someone please tell me that we aren’t dealing with a fire, too? Because I cannot handle the thought of a roving gang of homicidal elementals. I’m actually starting to miss the days when it was just one motherfucker running around freezing people’s hearts.”

  Vivian opened her mouth, shut it, then repeated the motion. It was strange to see. When Vivian spoke, she knew exactly what she wanted to say, or she simply didn’t speak. Uncertainty wasn’t a familiar look on her. Finally, she grabbed a section of the paper and busied herself reading an article about a local crafts fair that she seemed unlikely to actually be interested in. Sera observed all this with a slightly bemused expression. “Something to say, Vivian?” she asked drily.

  Vivian looked up reluctantly. “It’s just that, I was thinking…”

  “We were thinking,” interjected Simon.

  She gave him a grateful look. “We were thinking this last body wasn’t like the other murders. And not just because it was a different magic source. I, ahem, accessed the coroner’s files this morning. He’d updated the cause and time of death. The fire didn’t kill this man, because he was already dead from a bullet wound. We’ve never seen that before. Every other time, it appeared the killer took pleasure in being the direct cause of death, of using his—or their—magic to take the life. If I was profiling this person, I would say the murderers found a sense of superiority over their human victims by killing in this way. But this man was killed quickly and relatively mercifully, in comparison to the others’ slow deaths.”

  Simon nodded. “It’s also worth noting that neither of you ever had sex with him, assuming you are remembering accurately.”

  “Hey! We didn’t sleep with all the victims.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so determined not to be the Tahoe Tramps,” called Brian from the living room. He was finally waking up, yawning and stretching his way back to life. “It would be an excellent band name.” Without sufficient caffeine in my system, a clever retort eluded me. I finally settled on raising a single finger in his general direction. It wasn’t my index finger.

  Vivian ignored my protest and continued making her point. “This murder doesn’t fit the pattern. All it has in common with the others is that, based on the lack of an accelerant, we know an elemental was involved, and the body was dumped in a lakeside campsite.”

  Mac placed several pancakes on a plate, but not before handing one to me. “You’re thinking copycat, is that it? An elemental copycat?” he asked. He didn’t look thrilled with the possibility.

  “Copycat, or…” she hesitated. Whatever she was thinking, she really didn’t want to say it aloud.

  Simon had no such reservations. “Or someone who could use the murder to accomplish a goal.” He paused dramatically, clearly waiting for the rest of us to gasp in shock at his revelation. Our blank faces were an obvious disappointment. “Think about it, please. Sera is locked up for killing a bunch of people in inexplicable ways. Based on the current evidence, she appears somewhat less than innocent. Is there a better way to exonerate her than for another body to appear while she is sitting helpless in jail?” Now, he sat back triumphantly, certain we had enough information to put the pieces together ourselves.

  As unlikely as it sounded, there was one person capable of lighting that fire who had as strong an interest in protecting Sera as the rest of us. Strong enough, in fact, to cause him to overlook his stated desire of keeping all elemental activities strictly hidden from law enforcement. I didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. “Josiah?”

  Sera’s face was perfectly still, her eyes thoughtful as she considered the possibility. Finally, she nodded slowly. “It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. It’s not like my father has an excess of respect for humans, and he’d do pretty much anything to protect his family. But still, for him to be a killer? I don’t know.”

  “He would have been pretty angry,” said Brian, nudging Sera out of the way to reach the coffee pot.

  She laughed, though there was little humor to it. “We’re fires, you idiot. We’re a hot-headed bunch. And yet, we manage to get by all the time without killing people. I don’t know that a single night of his daughter being incarcerated would have been enough to make him lose control.”

  “I’ll ask Carmichael to keep us in the loop about the investigation. A bullet in the brain means actual forensic evidence, so you know they’re following this one up like crazy. Maybe they’ll find something that will help us.”

  As I wandered off to make the call, I heard Mac mutter to Sera, “Which one’s Carmichael?”

  “The pretty one.” I was sure Sera thought she was helping somehow, but it took a tremendous amount of restraint not to turn around and glare at her. “So, Viv, does your mom have any pointers about how to ask family members if they’ve killed anyone lately?”

  The call to Carmichael went surprisingly well, considering how uncertain he’d been the night before. Maybe eight hours’ sleep had given him time to process, or maybe he’d decided we were all delusional and was choosing to humor us. In either case, he was sticking to his word and planned to trust us with information no civilian should really possess. The cops were currently tracking down every reported gun shot from two nights ago, and he was pursuing every likely lead. “Should I wear my flame-retardant suit when I go on interviews?”

  “Depends. Is it pin-striped? ’Cause that’s always a classic.”

  He laughed, a welcome sound. Carmichael hadn’t been smiling much the day before, and I dared to hope that he really was coming to terms with our revelations.

  “So you know, Sera and I are thinking this could be a regular old human murder that some crazy elemental decided to turn into a bonfire. We’re not even sure it’s related to the other murders.”

  I feared I was saying too much. Decades of secrecy was a hard habit to break, and I really wanted to keep their thoughts from straying down the same path Vivian and Simon’s had followed. The agents might not know about Josiah, but they could still figure out that someone was protecting Sera.
But we had promised to help, even if we hadn’t anticipated regretting that decision quite so soon.

  “Really?” Carmichael seemed eager to believe me. I suspected he was a lot more comfortable chasing down a human than actively seeking a supernatural pyromaniac.

  “Tell you what. You look at the humans, we’ll handle the magical side of things, and we can swap info later today. Sound good?”

  He agreed readily, promising to stop by later that day. I hung up and tried to reclaim the relaxed feeling of the night before. Instead, I only felt tension build along my spine. I was trying to balance too many things, and it seemed like only a matter of time before they all came crashing down.

  Our investigation into the elementals’ role in the fire murder took precisely one minute. Sera called Josiah, reached his voice mail, and asked him to call her. Considering our job done, we proceeded to lounge for the better part of the day. We made a token effort to understand the events of the last month, rehashing the murders, the firebomb, the man in the forest, and Sera’s and my connection to it all. We ended up exactly where we had started: certain of absolutely nothing.

  Finally, we gave up, discouraged. Besides, after a day spent in jail, we figured we’d earned a little downtime. Sera was never a fan of doing nothing for long stretches of time, but as the sun made its steady way across the sky, she lay across the pillows with the rest of us, swapping stories and barbs.

  At one point, I glanced over to see her trying to sneak up on Simon. He’d switched into cat form, the better to enjoy the sunbeams streaming through the window, and she was determined to pull his tail. Her face was pure, concentrated mischief, and I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.