Controlling the Elements (The Manipulator Series Book 1)

by N. R. Spratlin

  “Well thank you, “I say earnestly as I look up towards him. He bends down at the waist and offers his hand to my again, this time to help me up.

  “No problem,” He states as I put my right hand back in the mess that is the plant catastrophe to help push up when I slide my left hand into his. The moment our hands connect, my world fades. Much like that day on the beach where my sole focus was on the water when Lyon was under; my focus now gets drawn into the living plants beneath my hands. I know I shouldn’t be able to pick up the things I am, but at the moment I don’t care. I know these plants are hurting from the fall I took upon them and it is my job to make them better. I turn my head on auto pilot and find the source of the hurt. All around me sticking out of the soil and rubble of the pots are broken roots. My heart lurches in my chest in pain and sorrow, I find myself squeezing the strangers hand harder.

  This isn’t right, I need to fix this.

  I close my eyes and focus on the pulsing thrum of pressure that is building under my skin. When I have an idea in my mind I instinctually push that pressure into action.

  My hands heat up like a flash of lightening, one outstretched towards the hurting plants, and the other struggling to hold onto the stranger. With a loud crack, a blinding light dispels from my hand where I touch the soil. It should hurt my eyes, but it doesn’t. In the moment I don’t care to figure out why. I keep pushing more of the flow of pressure from within to the plants until I can see them burst to fruition twenty times larger than they were before. I can hardly see around them they stand so big.

  When they expand I’m pushed back off my feet by branches and thorns, flying once again into the guy. My haze and tunnel vision fades. I’m flung back into the present; my surroundings and noise come back full force. Like a tidal wave. I blink, my chest heaving. I look back to the plants and promptly freak the hell out.

  No freaking way!! They are taller than me.

  “What …. How?” I scramble off the stranger not taking my eyes off the massive fully bloomed red rose bushes.

  “That was amazing,” He proclaims under his breath but I catch it.

  Amazing? What is going on?

  Even though I feel pressure building up again within my chest I feel depleted and drained. I feel like I have suddenly come down with the flu. Everything in my body is feels weak. I groan. I ache so badly I start to tremble. Lights flash across my vision, blinking I look up and notice the lights in the store start to flicker in time with my pulse.

  No not again. No, I am not causing this! I can’t be, I mean, this happens on movies and books maybe but not in real life. I just have the worst luck ever. I need to get out of here for real this time!

  I swipe my purse from off the floor, leaving my shopping cart where it is.

  I’ll just have to order food, shop online, or something else from now on.

  I dare not to look back at the man and start rushing to exit as soon as I hear the high-pitched buzz and smell the faint tang of electrical in the air.

  I can’t be the one that caused the field blow out!

  Even I know I am lying to myself.

  “Dillon, wait!” The smooth baritone shouts at me, I look over my shoulder startled to hear my name. The stranger has his hands upraised trying to stop me as he struggles to get around the mutation of the bushes.

  How does he know my name?

  With a renewed sense of panic I turn and run as fast as I can through the open door. Something is not right; I knew I wasn’t losing my mind.

  I don’t slow down till I reach my car; throw it in drive, and on the highway back to the house. By the time I pull on my street I’m able to get my heart beat back under control. I am just grateful I didn’t cause my car to have another freak out with the latent static in the air. One thing is for certain; my mind keeps asking the same question over and over again.

  How did he know my name?

  ***

  I am thankful that Lyon’s babysitter had picked him up from school today and took him for ice cream afterwards. I didn’t let her know that I was getting off early, and when I got home I decided to keep it that way so I could calm my nerves down.

  I was relieved to know that I wasn’t going crazy, but I still had a ton of answered questions. When I first got back home I about drove myself crazy trying to figure out the answers. I thought so many complete circles around it until I was making myself mentally dizzy. Not too long after that I start cleaning everything I could get my hands on, trying to distract myself. In the end, all I was confident in was that I have no idea where to find the answers but at least I was calmer when Lyon came home.

  “Aunt Dill this is good sketti.” Lyon proclaims proudly while grabbing the end of a squirmy spaghetti noodle and holding it up above his head. He tilts his little head backwards and closes his eyes as he slurps it down following by a quick loud smack of satisfaction.

  “I’m glad you like it buddy.” I smile towards him as I twirl my own portion of noodles around my fork.

  “Did you see my painting?” He questions after he ditches his fork in favor of using his fingers instead of utensils. Normally I would chastise him for this, but I’m just plain worn out to even try and start a battle. I have learned quickly that I have to pick my battles, and this one wasn’t worth it since he will be taking a bath soon.

  “I sure did buddy, it was beautiful.” I touch his little arm in encouragement not noticing until its late that the right half of my palm has landed in sauce that he somehow managed to venture up his forearms.

  Lyon beams with pride, “Miss Missy said she loved it and hung it up on the end of her desk today and that made Shay mad and I told her to stop sucking lemons.” He busts into a fit of laughter slapping his sauce covered hands on his lap and making Lyon sized prints on his shorts.

  I groan internally, I’m going to have to put spray and wash on that as soon as I can.

  “Lyon, you did not!” I ask in mock horror, and I say mock because in my mind I know Shay’s mother. She loves the spotlight, and always had since we were in school. Let’s just say the apple didn’t fall far from that attention seeking tree.

  “I sure did! And do you know what she did?” He bugs eyes out at me and I know he’s getting to the good part, at least from his perspective.

  “What did she do?” I lay my fork on the plate and lean forward on my arms giving him my full attention.

  “She stuck her tongue out at me! But Miss Missy caught her and she got put in the Thinking Chair.” He cackles with his little voice. I smirk.

  “Not the Thinking Chair!” I say in fake shock. Inside I’m happy, and yes it might be bad to be happy that a child got punished, but honestly, I’m just hoping she doesn’t grow up to be her mother.

  “Yes, so Miss Missy told her to go to the Thinking Chair to think about what she did wrong and she could apologize to me when she got up.” I swear the dramas of kids are better than soap operas sometimes. Or maybe it’s just me.

  “Well that’s good.” I make the relief evident in my voice.

  “Yup and she had to miss the rest of arts and crafts, but I will tell you that our table was quieter with her gone.” He looks down at his plate gathering more noodles and nodding his head in agreement.

  After a little while longer of Lyon regaling his eventful day, I get him to strip out of his sauce covered clothes, and then into the tub for a bath. Leaving him with strict orders not to practice holding his breath under water and that I’d know if he does.

  I move past the dark oak island counter in my kitchen on the way to the laundry room with Lyon’s dirty clothes and mine when I noticed my cell phone flashing saying that I have a message. It has always been a rule of thumb that all electronics are to be turned off during dinner. Dinner time is a time to talk to your family and connect. I cherish memories of my parents and Deacon and I around the table even though I couldn’t stand doing it growing up.

  I toss our clothes into the wash after pre-treating all the stains on Lyon’s clothes
then move back into the kitchen to scoop up my phone.

  ‘5new text messages’

  I frown. Who will be messaging me?

  I enter my password to unlock the screen and pressed the text icon.

  Everett Techie? Who is that? Confused, I opened the messages and the nerves tension begins again. I read the first message.

  Everett Techie: Dillon, my name is Everett. You ran into me literally at the store today. Look, I am sorry if that series of events startled you but you ran off before I could talk and to you. If you would be so inclined to have dinner with me and give me the chance to explain I am sure to be able to ease some of your worries.

  The now familiar fluttering of anxiety reaches my chest.

  The handsome stranger from the grocery store is named Everett. Huh? Well I guess it does seem to fit him. Wait, how did he get my number? I frown rubbing my chest, and holding the phone in front of my face with the other hand. I begin to pace up and down the length of my kitchen.

  I mean, the only thing I can think of is that he must have programmed his number in when he had my phone. But, I have a password on my lock screen to keep Lyon from getting into it and ordering another toy off Amazon again. That kid is seriously too smart for his own good. I let out a shaky exhale and look at the time stamp. 6:04 pm, a little over an hour ago.

  What did he mean about the “series of events startling me” and what does he have to explain? Before I can slip back into my circle of endless thinking and questions I opened the next text.

  Everett Techie: I promise you are going to want to hear what I have to say. You are not crazy.

  How would he know that I think I am crazy? A pit of unease opens up like a cavern in my stomach, instantly making me regret that second helping of garlic bread. I stop rubbing my chest to run my hand through my hair not sure I want to keep reading. I bite my lip looking down at my phone then quickly looking away. I know I’m waging a war within my mind that’s demanding me to get answers.

  But what if I get the answers and wish I never did? Is it worth it? I sigh loudly, frustrated with myself. I know if I carry on I will chicken out completely.

  Do I really want to keep living like this, worried about what will happen the next time I step outside or get upset and stressed out? What if one day I end up hurting Lyon? I take in a deep breath, my shoulders sag. I know what I have to do. I blink back tears that want to come out and open the next message.

  Everett Techie: If it makes you feel better, if you come to dinner it would not just be me. Tucker will be there as well as the rest of our roommates since this has to deal with all of us.

  The color drains in my face.

  Tucker as in CPS Tucker? Is this some elaborate hoax in dealing with our case? Now I’m getting mad. They are taking this too far! This has to be supremely out of line. I open the next message intent on finishing the other two with the intent of telling them exactly what I think with everything they seem to be pulling lately.

  Everett Techie: I should have worded that differently. Tucker will be there, as part of the alliance not for you and your nephew’s case. I just mentioned him as I know you’ve met him before, hoping it will help ease you. Listen, I am botching this up, this is why I am asking to meet us so we can discuss this face to face it would make it so much easier. I know you don’t understand what’s going on, but you are special, you are not crazy, and everything that has been happening to you is normal. We need you as much as you need us right now. So please give us a chance to explain.

  Special? Me? I scoff at the thought. I am no body, just a plain person. Yet again, I know I’m lying to myself. I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that there is something going on that I can’t quite believe. This Everett guy said he has answers so what could it hurt to meet with them and hear them out? If it turns out it is all about the case then I will be suing their asses since it would be sort of harassment, right? And if it isn’t about that at all and they are just plain crazy as I have halfway convinced myself that I am, then at least we would be in great company. I tap on the last message and what I saw solidified my choice.

  Everett Techie: You are not alone. We are like you too.

  If I wasn’t alone, if I wasn’t going crazy, then what was happening to me? Can these guys truly give me answers I so desperately seek? Hope seems to be trickling into my spirit with the possibility. I make quick work of sending a response back.

  Me: Okay, I will come over under one condition… you guys tell me everything.

  I lock my phone and set it back on the counter figuring it will take him a while to respond since he had texted me over an hour ago. Turns out I’m wrong. I don’t think more than a minute passes when my phone buzzes against the island top. I quickly pick it back up and open up the recent message.

  Everett Techie: Deal. Does Saturday at 6:30 work for you?

  Two days from now. I walk to the calendar on the wall in the kitchen in a daze, the cheery carton cats stare at me. I hover my hand over the correct day to see what we have planned. The only thing that has been written down is that Lyon has a game that morning but besides from that we have nothing planned like usual.

  Me: Yes, it does. Would you like me to bring anything?

  My manners kicking in automatically with that response. I bite my middle finger nail nervously still staring at Saturday on the calendar. My heart hammering fast waiting for a reply; I wonder if Lyon’s sitter would be open to watch him Saturday.

  Everett Techie: Just yourself and your nephew, no need to hire a sitter we have game consoles and other stuff to keep him entertained. Plus, he should know about everything as well.

  I frown. Do I really want Lyon with me meeting these strange men? How does he know about him? I know he saw a picture but how does he know I look after Ly? A dark suspicion flutters in my stomach. I take in calming breaths. Maybe I’m just being too suspicious? If I do bring him it would give me a great excuse to have to leave if needed. What should I do? I type out a message but hesitate to send it.

  I really hope I’m doing the right thing.

  Me: Okay sounds good.

  Everett Techie: Great! Our address is 243 Magnolia Drive. Do I need to send you directions?

  “Magnolia Drive? Like rich fancy Magnolia Drive?” I mumble around the finger nail in my mouth. Greeeeat!

  Me: No thank you, I know where it’s at. If I find myself turned around I will call or use my Google Maps app. It’s a wonderful thing ;)

  I realize a split second too late that he could take it as flirting. But…wasn’t that what I was doing? I can’t help but remember the pull I had to him at the grocery store and how attractive he is. I need to get it together. This is not the time for my libido to finally start kicking in.

  Everett Techie: Touché. See you Saturday Dillon.

  Me: See you Saturday Everett Techie.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Do you even know who you are anymore?” - Flint

  Zephyr

  A few days later, I’m startled awake and flying through the cold air. Goosebumps pebble my skin as I’m flung off my mattress, landing hard on the floor with a loud thump.

  My breath catches in my throat, getting the wind knocked out of me. I groan at the pain radiating up my back and from tasting the metallic tang of blood in my mouth from having bit down on my tongue when I fell. Blinking, and still in my recent drunken stupor, I see my twin mattress flying in the air to greet me. My eyes widen in horror.

  Luckily, my reflexes are quick enough to cover my head as my mattress lands on my body. My breath whooshes out a second time.

  I’m so going to kill him! Whoever says mattresses are light, are fucking lying. How did Flint so easily throw it?

  “What the fuck?” I manage to rasp out. Flint turns his back to me and opens my blacked out curtains; bright light streams through, blinding me. I groan internally as my head starts to pound like crazy.

  Why can’t he just leave me alone?

  He starts walking to me, a fierce
but determined look on his face.

  This isn’t going to be good.

  “Get up, you lazy little shit.” Flint bends down barking angrily in my ear. He’s such a damn grumbling Rottweiler. “You have exactly forty minutes to pull yourself together and meet me down stairs. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  “What is this? Are you my drill sergeant or something?” His jaw locks.

  “If I have to be.” He stands up staring me down; I try not to blink although my eyes are starting to water. After what feels like an hour of staring, he moves away until I am only able to hear his heavy booted footsteps walking towards my door. Actually, I should say I feel it, since I can’t see him and the vibrations are now motivating my headache to ramp up to that of a stampede of elephants.

  I snort. “Sure, why not, it’s not as if I wanted to sleep in today or anything. Nah, screw that I’m going back to bed.” I mumble sarcastically as I shift out from under the mattress, suddenly thankful I had enough wits about me the other day to thoroughly clean up all the shattered glass from the picture frame and the junk that came off from on top my dresser.

  I close my eyes as my heart lurches, my mind trying to reel me back into that darkness. I manage to drag my body out from under the mattress, stumbling to my feet ignoring how my back now aches, no doubt bruised. I instead crouch down to punch the mattress angrily pissed that everything little thing reminds me of her.

  “Good, go get ready. Now.” I jump, startled, since I completely forgot Flint was still in my room. I glare towards him as he leans against my doorjamb.

  I frown, titling my head slightly. He looks off today and I can’t figure out why. I look over him once and realize it’s his clothes.