The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel

by Sloane Calder

  Whatever had put him back together again had smashed his Fire, Air, and human body together like a multicar pileup.

  He groaned, and nausea flew up him like fire over dry grass.

  “Easy. You’re okay.” Elspeth’s hand pressed on his shoulder. “You’re back.”

  A hot mass of fur and claws stretched and grunted beside him. Maylene rose slowly, snorting and snuffling, eyeing him like he’d had the audacity to disturb a queen. He gave her a scratch between the ears.

  “She hasn’t left you once. I haven’t either.”

  His hand got a quick slurp. Elspeth got a my-roasted-chicken-better-be-ready glare before Maylene jumped off the bed and jangled her way out of the room.

  “Your grandmother isn’t a gentle woman.” It felt like his not overly helpful Oracle had superglued his Humpty Dumpty ass back together again in mismatched pieces.

  “You saw Mathair?” Elspeth sat up, putting some space between them in her king-sized bed.

  “Heard, not saw. She made it clear she’s a package deal as long as I’m wearing the Fire cuff. Can I get some extra pillows? I want to be propped up.” He lifted the sheets, confirming he had on boxers and nothing else. Oddly enough, his gunshot wound had pinked over, the mark depicting months of healing instead of days.

  A built-in medic wouldn’t be a bad perk for an emissary.

  She grabbed pillows off the floor and two more out of a chair, positioning them behind his head. He almost grabbed her, pulled her down on top of him, and held the hell on. But his personal house was on fire, his lungs aching like he’d taken up smoking and puffed his way through an entire carton of cigarettes. He rose, thinking he’d rest sitting up a little more, but things went spinny, and he sagged back.

  “I have no strength,” He put a hand to his clammy face, certain he must be as pasty and pale as the ceiling, and wished his cuff came with caffeine injections.

  “You’ve been out since last night.”

  “I lost a day?” Good ol’ Grandma left that one out.

  The air glittered and sparkled. Heat banded his arm.

  “It’s still there.” Elspeth’s head dropped back, and she let out a long sigh. “I’m so glad he didn’t get it.”

  He. Samael.

  A soon-to-be-dead warlock.

  It all came back. The stench floating through the vents had reeked of rotting dirt. Of invisible rock walls, closing in and compacting him like trash.

  “Bring me up to speed.” There’d be no relaxing. He needed to get his elements in peak shape, pronto.

  “First things first. You have to reclaim your mantle.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. You need it.”

  “Not as much as you do.”

  Her eyebrow arched, like she was fixing to call him on his crankiness. He knew he was a Goddess-awful patient and wouldn’t wish himself on a battle-ax nurse.

  “Listen up, my stubborn Fire. With this mantle, it’s like my size-eight feet are trying to walk in your size-fourteen shoes.” She returned to her seat beside him. “I think it’s actually dangerous for me. I blew out level-seven bulletproof windows battling Samael, which Graham insisted shouldn’t have been possible since I don’t have solid control of my Air yet.” She took his hand in hers. “Take it back. I’m not meant to have it, and when we mess with Mother Nature, we always screw up.”

  “See the bigger ring?” He lifted the gold chain around his neck, the two rings clinking. “Slip it on your finger and then imagine downloading the power into it.” He tried to think back to what he’d done when he’d given it to her, but only one thing came to mind. “Try thinking the command off and visualize removing a coat. The ring’s a relic, and I don’t remember my father doing anything special when he transferred his power to me.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She took the ring. “I love the square diamonds and sapphires. Is it an Air relic?”

  “Has to be. It’s from my mother’s side of the family. But a relic doesn’t discriminate against the energy it’s given, regardless of the power of the owner. This ring will hold any element.” He shifted to get more comfortable, the move seeming to jar his brain.

  Goddess, he hurt. Right down to the hair on his arms.

  She slipped the ring onto her pinkie, closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Froze. Let it out. Pulled off the band and rested it on his chest.

  The ring vibrated as it had that fateful day in the chapel.

  “It’s back.” Energy pressed through his skin, his primary Fire flaming hot for the return of its sidekick. “Catch me up on what I missed.”

  She recounted the attack. The cleanup by Elite One and Kazumi saving the damned day. He’d be wearing their friendship bracelet for a good, long time. Hell, he might hug Half Gallon next time he saw her. That little spout was a keeper, and he’d need her help.

  “The only true fear I’ve ever felt is when Seanair killed my father.” He shifted his gaze to Elspeth’s, needing proof she wasn’t a dream. “Soul-crushing terror filled me when I realized that warlock could have ground me like an ant into the pavement with little effort.”

  He doubled over at a horrendous cough, his lungs rejecting the elemental sludge he’d breathed.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get you some water. I’ll be right back.” He watched her leave and sank into the pillows, debating what hurt worse. Getting shot? Or having his power hurtle back into him like a crater-creating asteroid?

  Voices he didn’t recognize came from the other room, along with the squawk of a comm device. Guards. Good. He hadn’t gotten a solid bead on Graham yet, but he didn’t seem like the type to jack around on security. Elspeth had better have an entire regiment camped outside her front door.

  “Aleron.”

  His name was a whisper in a voice he hadn’t heard in twelve years. His pulse stuttered.

  “Mama?” He brought his gaze up slowly, scared he was seeing some post-concussion mirage.

  She stood in the doorway. His throat jammed up, clogged with fear and disbelief. He was uncertain what to say. He’d understood why she’d publicly disowned him, but seeing Ada Foussé made all the despair flood back like it’d been yesterday.

  “My first lovebug.” Her chin quivered, her eyes filling with tears as she came to the edge of the bed.

  She’d aged. Still tall and willowy, but her wiry, shoulder-length hair had more gray streaks than black. She’d never shot fillers and poison into her face, and Goddess knew, he’d been the cause of the lines streaking across her forehead and framing her eyes.

  Elspeth came in and handed him a glass of water. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, so I called her. I showed her an entry from Seanair’s journal about what happened that day in the chapel. I hope you’re not angry.”

  Part of him was petrified his mother would tell Elspeth what a monumental screw-up he was and how she should run far and fast, but the agony in her eyes that she’d done something horribly wrong tore at his still-weak heart.

  “You did good.” He managed a smile, his teeth about the only thing that didn’t hurt.

  “I’ll go heat up some soup, give you two time alone.” She gave a small nod to his mother and left.

  The door snicked shut softly.

  His mom hovered in the space between the wall and the bed, as if she wanted to move forward but wasn’t sure yet. He was afraid to urge her over. Afraid her hesitancy was disgust at him for what he’d done. What he’d become.

  “You good?” Her voice carried the same gentle tone of concern. One he hadn’t believed he’d ever hear again.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Anxiety took first place in the race of emotions playing smashup in his gut.

  “She’s a lovely young woman. She told me you gave her your father’s mantle and tried to give her your primary one too?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d have given my life to save hers.”

  “You love her.” Not a question.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, blinking hard. “I
t won’t work out, though. I have a duty to her.”

  “You do, indeed.” And there was the I’ll-have-more-to-say-on-that-one-later mom voice. “I’m absolutely certain your father’s proud of you. Whether he still resides at the source of Fire or he’s been born into another body, wherever he is, he loves you and doesn’t blame you for what happened. He knew the risks. We both did.” His mom came and sat on the bed. “Look at me. I never blamed you for what happened. Not once. Your brothers didn’t either.”

  “I didn’t do one thing to help him.” He turned his head, unable to meet her eyes.

  “Your father and I strategized every outcome. The worst-case scenario came true, and I followed through on the agreement we made together.” His mother took his hand. “I disowned you because if I hadn’t, Seanair would have doubted your loyalty and killed you. To protect your brothers and you, all ties to your former life had to be cut. So I cut them.”

  His throat burned as he stared out the window, the sky gray, the afternoon sun missing. “You had every right to disown me. I couldn’t give him back his mantle. I’m the reason why Dad was killed. I should have run to him, given him back the ring. I was a sniveling coward, frozen like a weak little weasel, listening to the whole Goddess-forsaken thing. It should have been me.”

  “No, sir. It shouldn’t have and wasn’t supposed to be.” She put a hand on his arm, gripping tight. “Listen to me, son. Moving on from your father was difficult enough. If I’d lost two of my brave men, I wouldn’t have made it. Protecting you was our first priority. We both decided your dad would give you his mantle, as it offered the best protection. Your father didn’t fear death, and the last promise I made to him was to do everything I could to keep you alive.” Her warm hand squeezed and let go. “And I did.”

  She was being kind, and so…his mom. But she still didn’t know the worst of his weakness.

  “If Dad was going to pay, I should have borne witness to his sacrifice. I smelled it. The final smoke. Pain has a scent. Seanair claimed it was instant, but I’ve killed enough people to know Dad had a moment of agony. And I did nothing but cry.”

  “No, honey.”

  “Seanair didn’t say the prayer of succession.”

  “It’s okay. I’m certain the Goddess welcomed him home.”

  “You can’t know that.” His failure rose, pounding at his temples, cutting off his air. “Mom, I should have been man enough—”

  “No!” Air whipped around the room, fluttering the sheets, the magazines on the bedside table, shifting the paintings off-center on the wall. “Your father would have never wanted you to see that. If you take anything I say to heart, remember this: In his final moments, he would have been at peace knowing you didn’t watch, knowing you’d remember him as a living person and not his human shell flashed to dust.” She gently pushed his hair off his forehead. “Your brothers and I agreed from the moment we learned of your father’s death. We didn’t want to lose two of you, so we did what we had to do.”

  His brothers. Goddess, his brothers.

  “Are they okay?” He ground his jaw to keep from begging to know if they’d forgiven him.

  They might have accepted his mother’s edicts to keep him safe, but that didn’t mean they’d be willing to ever speak again to the brother who’d caused their father’s death. His mother could offer all the lovely words she wanted. It had been his fault, and he’d never outrun the guilt.

  “The twins are working security right now at an Air sit-down, but they said to tell you they plan to whip your ass as soon as they can. Emeric will be here later. He’s coming to help Graham with continent president protocol and the Fire cuff.”

  She didn’t know he had it, and he couldn’t tell her. It’d be safer for her if she didn’t know. He erased the thought. She’d used her Air on them as boys, especially on his pain-in-the-butt twin brothers, but he hadn’t detected her use of it on him. He needed to keep her from being curious enough to try.

  The secret had to remain between him, Elspeth, Graham, Ross.

  And shit. That other warlock, Egan.

  He changed the subject fast. “How long has Em known Elspeth’s brother?”

  “Apparently, for years. According to Em, nerds unite, and I guess he and Graham share a passion for data. Em was recently promoted to head data scientist and historian at the Global Natura Archives.”

  Emotion boiled inside him. Anger, joy, agony, love. His brothers were safe and, by the sound of it, thriving and healthy. And his mother had pulled off one of the biggest Natura societal shams ever.

  “You fooled Seanair.”

  “I did what I had to do for my firstborn baby boy.” Her hand drew across his cheek. “Now, tell me about this strong, smart, lovely woman.”

  “Elspeth’s still on the hunt for a treatment for the tripowered disease, and the Lennoxes will need all the help they can get to stay in power. I can’t give her either of those things.” He pulled the chain and found the rings that had fallen to the pillow. “Do you want Dad’s wedding ring back?”

  His mother’s firmed mouth wobbled.

  “You kept it,” she whispered. “Yes…I…you’ve had it all these years? Let me help you.”

  She leaned over him and unhooked the clasp.

  “It kept me focused. Well, the rings and the scar.”

  Her eyes narrowed on the gash that he knew was hidden a little by his scruff.

  “How could you—oh my goodness. You’ve carried this mark all these years? Aleron Jacques Foussé, you heal that right this second.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Anything to focus her on something besides Elspeth.

  He watched his mom slide his father’s scuffed gold band onto her left ring finger. He blinked several times to make sure she was real. His mom. The woman who’d taught him to love.

  He placed his palm on the scar and called up his Fire. Heat tingled and zinged over the spot he’d shaved around for twelve years. He noted the trademark brush of her Air, ready to step in if he needed help.

  The repair complete, he eyed his mother. “You’re stronger than Dad was.”

  “Technically, yes, but what mattered is we shared an equal, fierce love.” Her smile turned wistful.

  “But you lost your family when you married him.”

  She’d fallen for a Cajun Fire and left behind a life of mansions and money and power.

  “My parents have come around. Emeric’s a Fire, a strong one like your dad. The twins are…Goddess, help us.” She shook her head. “They’re Dual Fire and Airs, double trouble, and they have raised absolute gusty hell with your grandfather. I don’t even recognize the man anymore, and my mother invites Emeric for tea.”

  “The twins are worse than when they were younger?” Little nut punchers, both of them.

  “I made them promise to wait a few days before they come to see you. You’ll need to be at your best when they show up. They’re twenty-two going on eight.”

  Hope threatened to rise at seeing bookish Emeric and his fire-whirl brothers. Duals. The Goddess must have had one too many the day they were born.

  She nodded toward his chain. “I’m glad you still have the vessel ring. It should have disintegrated after use, so it must have some lives left, which is unusual. The Goddess likes to keep us on our toes.” She stood, getting that I-have-an-idea gleam in her eye. “I’ve been rather busy since the day your father passed. I believe I can gain the Lennoxes some support, but you know the situation better than I do. Would you mind if I make a few calls?”

  “Sure. They need backers.”

  “I agree the Lennoxes need allies, and you might be surprised at the pull of Ada Foussé.”

  “I don’t remember you ever being involved in politics.”

  “A lot has changed in twelve years.” She cut her gaze toward the kitchen before locking those steel-blue eyes on him. “Don’t you dare let her go unless you want to.”

  “I don’t have what she needs.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. And,
Aleron?” She moved to the door, then turned and glared down her nose. “If you love her, that’s enough.”

  Elspeth stirred the bone broth, adding sliced ginger to help settle Aleron’s stomach. She should have called his mother sooner, back when she’d read Seanair’s diary and learned how Bill Foussé had been murdered, but so much had happened, so un-Goddessly fast. Exhaustion draped across her shoulders. She needed to sleep for a month, tucked against Aleron’s warm, firm body.

  But then she’d never get caught up.

  She still had a treatment to find, a rescheduled sit-down to attend, and a shiny new job as Judex. Oh, and a memorial service to plan, a replacement to hire for her at Kindred—who couldn’t be Ross because he’d been tapped as Graham’s right hand—and a power-transition plan to put together for her family. She braced her hands on the counter and tried to convince herself she’d be fine. She’d survive, sure. Keep calm, carry on, and all that BS.

  But without Aleron, she’d remain forever far from fine. She’d breathe. And work. Exist. Support the family. Do what had to be done.

  Like always.

  Flora walked into the kitchen, plopped her hemp bag on the breakfast table alongside a takeout container, and dug around inside her purse. Elspeth wouldn’t have been surprised if her Earth cousin had started pulling out rosebushes and garden hoes like the satchel was magical.

  “Sorry I’m so late. I picked up some freshly roasted chicken for Maylene.”

  “She’s hiding out in my closet. That dog is just as persnickety as Lach. She’s sworn her allegiance to Aleron, and she only comes to me when she’s sulky or hungry.” She pulled a bowl from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

  “I’m not surprised she’s sulky. Animals experience loss and stress, and she’s missing her adoring master.” Flora dumped the precut chicken into the bowl, placing it beside Maylene’s water on the floor. “You still haven’t heard anything from him?”

  “Not since right after I got my powers. He likely knows about Seanair, but he hasn’t texted or called to check in.”