by K W Quinn
Reyah admired how composed his voice was. To the untrained eye, he probably seemed perfectly calm.
“You think a runaway Bonded is going to head to the desert? Deeper into Earth-controlled lands?” Reyah watched his face to see if he would stick to his lies.
“Nowhere is more controlled than here in the Capital. Compared to this valley, anywhere is a reprieve.” He didn’t even fidget with his tie. He was strong. Classic, rich Earth from a life of privilege.
Reyah wanted to find a crack in his composure. “He won’t escape, but you still have a chance to minimize your culpability.”
“I didn’t aid them except by existing. They stole my car. Clothes and money too. I wasn’t helping. I was sleeping.” His eyes were hard, and Reyah knew he’d stick to that story.
“I assume you reported this crime?”
“I haven’t yet, no. I’d like to give them time to return things so we can settle this quietly. I don’t like involving more bureaucracy than necessary.” He smiled again, back to his playful banter.
“Well, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr. Rowan. I do hope things are resolved to your satisfaction, but the Bonded won’t be returning anything. The Bonding witch felt the connection sever. Justice has been served, and that criminal is dead.” Reyah stood, watching the confidence drain out of his face. “I will work quickly to bring the other to justice as well. Have a nice day, sir.” She turned and walked toward the door.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sprint toward the bank of elevators in the far wall. All his calm was shattered now. Another strange piece of the puzzle. He genuinely cared for them.
Reyah pushed her way out into the afternoon light. Now she knew they had a car. She was days behind. Why had she wasted so much time here? She was a flaming weak fool.
She was going to have to follow the soulprint to catch up. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk. Blood and ash, oak and sap. This job was a tangle. She yanked her car door open, focusing on the immense satisfaction she would feel when it was finished.
Sundae
“Are you gonna get some crazy, gross flavor of ice cream like you always do?” Cass asked, pushing the door open to the ice cream shop.
“Pistachio isn’t crazy or gross,” Andy sighed. Another of Cass’s rants. They stood in line, and Andy looked at the barrels of flavors.
“It’s green. Ice cream isn’t supposed to be green. Green is for vegetables and gardens.”
“Your narrow definition of acceptable ice cream flavors is robbing you of the greater joys that life has to offer.”
“Look, Neapolitan ice cream is the most perfect creation in the dessert world, and I have yet to be convinced otherwise.”
“But it’s got no stuff in it. It’s three flavors that get all mashed up. You can’t even taste the flaming vanilla over the chocolate and strawberry, so why not have real chocolate-covered strawberries in vanilla ice cream? That would be perfect.” Andy waved his sleeve-covered hands around, shaping his dream dessert.
“I don’t want stuff messing up the perfectly smooth and wonderful texture of my ice cream. Simplicity is best.”
“Simplicity is boring,” Andy replied. “And how can you, who thinks bananas belong on a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, be against ‘stuff’? You eat flaming pickles on pancakes and once tried to fry a chocolate chip cookie in bacon grease. How can your mouth like those things and yet reject the perfection of marshmallows and almonds in chocolate ice cream?”
Cass laughed but didn’t defend himself. He stepped up to the counter to order.
Once he was nicely full and buzzing from the sugar, Andy let himself relax just a little.
“You need anything else?” the sweet lady behind the counter asked. She was a combination of every cartoon grandmother come to life, with a cutesy apron and a tendency to call everyone “sweetheart.” She boasted that her shop was the best in three counties, and tasting was believing.
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m not even sure we can walk after that. It was delicious,” Cass said, rubbing his belly.
“Oh, sure you could, sweetheart. You walk over here and try my orange-and-vanilla cream soda. Special recipe handed down for generations. Secret ingredient known only to me,” she said with a wink.
“If you insist,” Cass said. He grinned at Andy and waved him to come along, but Andy shook his head. He wanted a few more minutes of calm.
Cass lifted himself from the table and resettled on one of the barstools near the counter. He chatted with the owner and let her tell him all about her life. Everyone opened up to Cass. Strangers spilled secrets, friends confessed fantasies, and Andy watched it all. He had to give himself a pep talk before ordering food at a restaurant, but Cass made friends with people in the bathroom.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” Andy said, dropping the backpacks at Cass’s feet. Cass waved and went back to telling the story of the first time he thought he could fly.
Andy shook his head at the memory. Cass’s Air wasn’t strong enough to hold him back then. He had barely been strong enough to lift anything heavier than shoes. It just took too much energy, and Cass didn’t have the discipline to practice.
Andy had his trophies and the bruises that were easily explained away by his hobbies when his dad got careless and sloppy. His body was strong, and his Light had been even stronger.
Cass had a different kind of strength now. He didn’t need cute tricks with paper airplanes or confetti tornadoes to make and keep friends. He hadn’t used his Air as much since he began relying on his face. Even so, Cass grew stronger. Effortlessly, he became the stronger Elemental.
Andy constantly worked on his body and his talent. They’d been taught that talents, like muscles, needed constant exercise to remain useful. Cass coasted by on natural gifts, but Andy worked hard for what he had. He couldn’t control his height, but the rest of his body he could exercise until it matched his ideals. Or flaming close enough anyway. Even all his hard work couldn’t match Cass’s effortless success.
In the Dome, they had snickered when the witches put him against the champion, told him daily that he must have messed up really bad if the Earth valued him so little. Why else would they let him become a red smear in the dirt his first time out?
He had thought he was stronger. His muscles had been built in and out of the gym. He knew what his body could do. He thought he would prove them all wrong. And he did.
But now he knew it was only because of Cass. Without Cass’s distraction, he would have been crushed. He knew he should be grateful and relieved, but some resentment still simmered.
Cass coasted by on his looks and his charm. People gave him whatever he wanted. His mother adored him, and the frequent boyfriends she took all spoiled and pampered him to win her favor. Life was always a breeze for Cass.
He wasn’t like Cass. Adversity had made him strong. Cass was popular, but Andy could endure. He took a deep breath and headed back to the counter, where Cass was still charming the owner.
“And then I reached out with only one finger. You know kittens can’t resist the single finger. It’s foolproof.” Cass laughed, and several customers nearby chuckled along with him.
Andy climbed onto a stool next to Cass. “Even animals love him. It’s ridiculous,” he said with a smile, nudging Cass with his shoulder. Cass grinned so wide Andy could see almost back to his molars. “How’s the soda?”
“It’s heaven. You have to try it.” Cass pushed his glass down the counter. “And I’ll go make room for more,” Cass said and hopped off his stool.
Andy rolled his eyes at the familiar hyperbole and crudeness but smiled widely and reached for the drink. The owner watched him eagerly as he took a sip, and she chuckled at the look of bliss on his face. She nodded with satisfaction, then went to wipe down the counter and check on the pimply teenager running the register.
Andy took another sip and reached down for his backpack, but his fingers met empty air. Bloody short arms. He leaned farthe
r, but there was nothing there. Nothing under Cass’s stool either, and the booth they’d been sitting in was empty too. Nothing.
All along the counter was clear floor. Had Cass taken them with him? It seemed unlikely that Andy wouldn’t have noticed that, but he tried to suppress his panic. While he waited for Cass, he tried to catch the eye of someone behind the counter. Maybe Cass had set the backpacks on the other side of the counter for safekeeping.
Cass emerged from the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his pants.
“Cass, where are the backpacks?” Andy said, voice rising to be heard over the click and clack of dishes.
“Where you left them,” Cass replied, frowning.
“No, they’re not there. I put them by the stools. You were supposed to watch them.”
“I didn’t leave that spot. I was there the whole time. They were right here,” Cass protested.
“Well, they’re not there now. Were you even paying attention?” Andy snapped.
“Andy, I was sitting on top of them, having a soda. There aren’t that many people in the shop. I’m sure they just got moved,” Cass said, but even he sounded unconvinced. “Mrs. Burns? Did someone move our backpacks?”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. We haven’t come to sweep yet, so I don’t think there would have been a reason to. Shame to have crime here. I thought we’d seen the end of that kind of trouble when the Conglomerate drove the last of the Airs out,” she said, gray curls bouncing as she shook her head.
Andy blinked at her for a moment. She seemed so nice, but he should have expected a nice, clean town like this to be full of Earth supporters. He glanced at Cass and began checking every booth and under every chair and table. Cass hung his head and began looking too. It was a waste of time, and they both knew it, but it was what you did when things went missing.
Stolen. Andy was so angry he wanted to break something. Everything was in those backpacks. All of Marv and Juji’s expensive clothes. All the money. The toiletries and magic from the witches.
Cass was talking to the staff again, using his face and his charm to do whatever it was he did in situations like this, while Andy did the practical thing and looked out the door for anyone wearing lifesaving backpacks full of witchy things.
The downtown area was full of boutiques and posh ladies with strollers. Not a backpack to be seen. He patted the keys in his pockets. At least they still had wheels. No one in this little bourgeois village would be caught dead stealing that eyesore.
“They don’t have security cameras or anything,” Cass said when Andy returned. His deep voice was small and defeated. “I don’t know what happened. I was right there. I didn’t leave the stool.”
“But you were too busy talking to notice someone walking off with all our stuff,” Andy growled.
“I’m sorry. Really. Someone must have Spelled me. It’s such a cute mom-and-pop place. Who would have expected crime here?”
“Me!” Andy shouted. “I would have hooked a foot in the straps or held them in my lap or at least checked on the things once in a while. Did they even need to use magic to distract you, or were you off in your own little world again? Everything was in there, Cass. Everything. Now what are we gonna do? Call Marv collect from a pay phone and have him airmail us the rest of his wardrobe? Go on the run with what cash is in our pockets?”
“We still have the van, though, right?” Cass offered. “And all the snacks from Amel and Charly are in there. We’ve got a place to sleep.”
“Great, because we don’t have any flaming money to buy food or gas, so we better park the bloody thing somewhere and set up camp. We live here now, at least until they run us out for daring to be poor in their presence. Let whoever come and get us because, for the love of ice cream, we have screwed up our entire escape plan in one lousy afternoon.”
“Can you try to look on the bright side?” Cass griped. “There’s food in the van, and we just filled up the tank. We’re not stranded or starving yet.”
“OK, fine, but then what? How do we get more money? We’re out of rich friends to borrow from. You and I didn’t have much to begin with, but we can’t get into any of our bank accounts. Even if the Earth didn’t own every bank, we can’t risk letting them or the thing chasing you know where we are. You gonna stand on the street corner and work your nymphy powers to get us a couple of bucks?” Andy spat.
He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Cass’s face fell. The guilt and regret and aggressive brightsiding Cass had been doing was all wiped away. Now Cass’s beautiful face was a blank, unreadable mask.
“I don’t know what we’ll do for money, but if it comes to street corners, I think there are some other talents we might try before resorting to prostitution.” Cass’s voice was flat and cold.
“Cass, I’m—” Andy started.
“Let’s go to the van and see what’s actually in there. We can make a plan that attempts to preserve some dignity, all right?” Cass said, walking toward the parking lot.
Andy’s temper had always gotten the better of him, but he hated it most when he hurt Cass. He wanted to be better than his dad.
He felt helpless and useless and small. He’d messed up again and wished there was some way to magic a solution, but all he could do was bend some lightbeams. He’d wanted to grow up powerful, with magic that could change the world.
Everyone did, but the reality was most of them would only have minorly useful talents. Not every Elemental could move mountains or rivers or whatever. And without ties to the Elements, you had to learn witchcraft and hope for the best. Make a living however you could.
He should have suggested they become witches instead of prostitutes. Blast his flaming mouth and his ashen temper. Fire in his veins was the worst when he was like this.
Cass was so quick to forgive, and that somehow made it worse. He wished Cass would just hate him a little, punish him for being the jerk he was. It would be easier. He deserved it. A blank and practical Cass hurt, but less so than the sweet forgiveness that Andy never deserved.
Bonfire
Andy had driven back toward the coast in silence, and Cass let him. He was tired of being in charge of this rescue or escape or whatever it was. He’d saved Andy from the Earth, so now it was time to let Andy save him from the Dragon. He pouted in the passenger seat, watching the farms and orchards turn back into houses and rolling hills, then to coast and rocks.
Other than the clothes on their backs, there was a spare hoodie, some sweatpants, two shirts, and four pairs of socks that Cass had dumped out when he was looking for the cash Marv had packed for them. There was a little bag of tea and one of the juju bags, along with sandwiches and biscuits.
They ate dinner in a parking lot. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows. They had most of a tank of gas and the change Cass had stuffed in his pocket after paying for the ice cream. Their options were limited.
Still, they had a bed in the van and enough snacks for breakfast and probably lunch. With food and shelter for the next few hours taken care of, Cass was content to let Andy stew and do whatever planning he could. Cass was all planned out.
“Come on,” Andy said, grabbing a blanket and climbing out of the van. Cass grabbed a blanket and followed.
They walked across the parking lot and stepped out onto the soft sand of the beach. Andy trudged forward, dodging sprouts of grass and driftwood. He seemed to have a destination in mind, though everything looked the same to Cass. Sand, shells, seaweed, and driftwood. A few dunes. Some rocks. Nothing special or remarkable. Just a beach.
Andy stopped suddenly, and Cass bumped into his back before righting himself.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Andy spread his blanket out a few paces away from the high-tide line. “Beach,” he declared.
“Beach?” Cass repeated.
“Stay here,” Andy muttered and walked back down the beach a bit. Cass spread his own blanket out and flopped down. He pulled his shoes off and shook out
his socks. The air was salty and cool. He hugged his arms around his knees and suppressed a shiver.
It was officially autumn now, he realized. Today was the equinox. He felt homesickness creep into his chest. His mom would be making cinnamon tea, and Mama Yana would make dumplings and sweets.
If they were home, they would all watch the sunset together and tell stories of Demeter’s mourning and her suffering spirit. Mama Yana would tease them for being just like Persephone and breaking her heart by running away to chase their dreams.
It was a little too true this year. They weren’t there to hear the teasing, but Cass still felt the filial guilt with the chill breeze.
Andy came back with a bundle of driftwood and began arranging the pieces in a pile.
“Can you set up a windbreak? I’m gonna try and focus some of the sunlight. What’s left of it anyway.”
“Amel said no magic,” Cass answered.
“No, he said to limit magic. But I don’t want to freeze, and I have energy to burn.”
Cass knelt by the pile of dry, twisted wood worn smooth by the waves. He knew that Andy had a hard time focusing at the best of times, and this was as close to an olive branch as he was likely to get right now.
He took a deep breath and felt the nature of the Air here, humid and salty. It was like trying to speak to someone with a thick accent. He pulled the Air into a soft shield around the branches, shaping a fluted top for smoke.
Andy squinted and sat on his heels, fists resting on his thighs. He faced the sun. He didn’t do well with heat. Cass suspected he was afraid of it—afraid of losing control, of becoming like his father. Andy had plenty to be angry about but worked hard to keep a tight leash on his temper.
Sweat began to bead up on Andy’s forehead, and Cass smelled the smoke begin to twist its way up. He sent a gentle breeze to coax the fire along. Just a puff. Just a wisp.