Five Elements #1

by Dan Jolley

  Brett started to say something else . . . and realized something was wrong. Really wrong. He almost took a deep breath. Almost pulled the water into his lungs, and in a rush he knew:

  The water wanted him to.

  It wasn’t getting easier to hold his breath.

  The water was just making it feel that way.

  How long have I gone without breathing?

  Too long . . .

  Brett’s vision darkened even more. He felt light-headed, and almost blew out what little air his lungs still held when he realized the water was pushing in. Squirming, like a living creature, into his nose, into his mouth, trying to slide down his windpipe.

  Let me in.

  Brett heard the voice as the faintest of whispers. Tiny, but insistent . . . and growing louder.

  Brett. Let me in.

  Dimly he saw Greta’s eyes widen in fear. “Brett! Don’t give in to the water! You have the power to control it, but the element has a will of its own! A desire! You must stand strong against it or it could kill you! Or worse.”

  Brett tried to come up for air, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. No, it was nicer to stay down under the surface. He should accept the water, invite it in, allow it to fill him. A part of him wanted to.

  Three sets of hands grabbed him and forcibly dragged him out of the fountain. Brett slumped to the pavement, coughing and blowing water out of his nose and his mouth and maybe even his ears. Then he saw that a few tendrils of water had actually followed him out of the fountain, glassy tentacles reaching for him, trying to pull him back under. After a couple of seconds they retreated, disappearing under the surface. Brett wasn’t sure his friends had seen them, and at that moment didn’t care. He just lay there on his back, panting, and—

  And suddenly he was somewhere else. Still lying on his back, staring up at the sky, but it was no sky he had ever seen before. Not blue, but a deep, disturbing amber. Unbelievably tall black Gothic towers stood silhouetted against that bizarre golden sky, and . . . things flew around them. Huge, impossible things.

  What am I looking at?

  Gradually, he became aware of the sound of shouting. Then slowly it resolved into the voices of his friends, all calling his name. The amber sky and the terrifying black towers faded, replaced by the porte-cochère.

  Brett had never felt more relieved. Gabe helped him sit up and lean back against the edge of the fountain. “Are you okay?”

  Brett blinked and absently patted himself down. “I think so. Wow. That was horrible.”

  Lily crouched beside him. “What happened? It looked like you got, like, stuck in the water.”

  Brett was about to say “That’s exactly what happened” but stopped himself and squinted. “Hey.” He pointed over to the edge of the porte-cochère, where a grassy lawn stretched out between the institute and the street. “Is it . . . it’s raining harder over there. Do you guys see that, too?”

  Before anyone could answer him, Brett got to his feet and walked over. Gabe and Kaz and Lily quickly joined him.

  In a patch maybe twenty feet by twenty feet, the rain drilled down so hard that it had knocked some of the grass loose, exposing bits of bare earth. Bits that connected and made lines and loops and angles. The rain was writing on the ground, and as Brett watched, a time and an address became clear. And another line below that:

  You’ll find answers here. Don’t be seen. Be careful. G

  Beside him, Lily turned to Kaz. “Have you seen enough yet, Skeptic Lad? Still think there’s a logical explanation for all this?”

  But Brett didn’t catch Kaz’s answer, because a flash of movement drew his eyes up to a window on the institute’s top floor. A window where a gray-haired figure stood, watching him, one hand raised in either greeting or good-bye.

  8

  Gabe pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck as a frigid wind whistled around them. He, Kaz, Brett, and Lily all huddled in the doorway of a closed bank on the edge of the Mission District, trying and not succeeding at staying dry. Thunder still rolled and crashed above them in a relentless barrage.

  They had spent the last half hour, partly on the cable car and partly on foot, listening to Brett tell them everything that Greta Jaeger had said.

  Gabe had been deeply, profoundly unhappy about having to move out of San Francisco, but at least relocating to a different city and getting settled in a new school was something he understood. This? Elemental magick and strange creatures and doomsday cults? What am I doing?

  But he had the answer to his own question. His home was destroyed. His uncle had been kidnapped.

  As unbelievably, wildly impossible as everything that had happened today was—it hardly mattered next to that one line in Uncle Steve’s email.

  I am SO CLOSE to getting answers about Aria’s location.

  Gabe had barely dared to let himself think about what that meant. After all this time, could his mother be alive?

  He had to figure all this out. He had to.

  “So, yeah,” Brett said. “That’s the last of it. She said if I don’t control my element, it could, uh, take over. Do bad stuff to me.” He glanced around at his friends. “I guess that applies to you guys, too?”

  “A cult.” Kaz folded his arms, his face sour. “Of course it’s a cult. And not just any cult! A magickal doomsday cult! The only thing that would make it better is if aliens figured in somehow.”

  “Have I gone on record about how dumb it is for us to be here?” Lily gestured at the dark, hulking building up the street. Its massive, blocky shape was an eyesore amid the brightly colored row houses and enormous, intricate works of graffiti art they’d passed on the way. “We’re literally here because of the ravings of a crazy woman. A crazy murderer, assuming that nurse knew what she was talking about.”

  “But this is the only clue we’ve got.” Gabe wished that wasn’t the case, but as Uncle Steve was fond of saying, If wishes were horses we’d all ride. Gabe had always thought Uncle Steve’s old-fashioned sayings were extremely lame. But now, thinking about them just made Gabe miss him. “We can’t trust the cops. And we can’t ask anyone else. The stuff we’ve seen today is nothing but crazy.”

  Lily shrugged, frowning. “I can’t argue with that.”

  “Still no sign of those hunter things.” Kaz peered up and down the street. “Either we’re sneakier than I think we are, or there aren’t many hunters to go around.” He looked again. “Actually, I haven’t seen anybody in the last twenty minutes. Guess we’re the only ones too dumb to be out in the rain.”

  Gabe squinted at the building to which Greta Jaeger had directed them: the Liberty Street Theatre. Brett knew the place already. He’d told them on the way that he’d been planning a field trip there, to do a little urban spelunking. “The place has been abandoned since the forties,” he’d said. “I’m kind of amazed it’s still standing.”

  Kaz turned to Lily. “It’s getting pretty late. Shouldn’t we tell our families where we are?”

  Gabe frowned, and Lily seemed to read his thoughts. “We can’t tell them the truth,” she said.

  Kaz shook his head. “Considering what we’ve seen so far, along with what Crazy Lady told Brett, the less our families know about all this, the better off they’ll be. But if we don’t tell them something, they’re going to call the police. Right?”

  Solemnly, one by one, the four of them nodded. Lily took over the nuts and bolts, sending texts to Kaz’s parents and her and Brett’s grandmother, telling them that they were staying over at each other’s houses. Gabe pretended not to notice when Lily realized he had no one to text—that the strictest parent out of any of theirs wasn’t around to make excuses to. Gabe half-expected Brett to come up with some words of support, but Brett had fallen silent again, just staring at the theater.

  “All right.” Gabe stood up when the last of the texts had been sent. “Let’s see what this place is all about.”

  Kaz peered at the theater. “What do you think’s in there?”


  Brett gave him an elaborate shrug. “Really wish I knew. But I don’t have Clue One.”

  “I hate when people say this on TV,” Lily said quietly, “but there’s only one way to find out.”

  Keeping close to the buildings, as much to minimize the soaking they were taking from the storm as to try to remain unseen, Gabe led his friends up the street to the theater. He tried the front door and found it locked. Of course. He pointed them around the side of the building to a narrow alleyway, where they took not-very-effective shelter under a fire escape.

  “Okay,” Kaz said, rainwater dripping off the hood of his poncho, “what now?”

  “Now you get away from this place!”

  Everyone jumped, and Lily clapped her hands over her mouth, as Jackson Wright materialized right behind them. He looked the same as he had in Gabe’s foyer. Glowing faintly. Intensely creepy. And, judging by the expression on his face, kind of irritated.

  “I know you are fools, but I did not realize you were all utterly mad.” Jackson’s words came out even more stiffly than usual. “You ignored my warning about the constables, but you must listen to me here. The danger in which you will place yourselves if you venture into this theater cannot be overstated. I speak not of faux policemen and diabolical canines. If you find a way into this house of horrors, you will face the full might of the Eternal Dawn. It would be suicide. Plain and simple.”

  “Nothing you’ve ever said to us has been ‘plain and simple,’” Gabe shot back. “Look, Greta told us this is our one shot at getting some answers. And maybe saving my uncle.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows tried to climb up into his hair. He laughed, an icy sound that made parts of Gabe shrivel up. “You take counsel from Greta Jaeger? I shall wager she neglected to mention why she is incarcerated in that odious place.”

  When Lily spoke, there wasn’t even a trace of fear in her voice. Gabe envied that. “The nurse already told us. She said she was in there for murder.”

  “Multiple murders,” Jackson said. “Two victims. Nine years ago. Does that sound familiar, Gabriel?”

  Jackson’s words seemed to echo in Gabe’s ears as his stomach sank several inches lower and clenched like a fist. Jackson went on, confirming his worst fears: “Greta is in that institution because she is the one who killed your parents.”

  Someone gasped. Lily? Gabe looked over—no, it was Kaz. Lily and Brett both just looked angry. Gabe took a step backward and steadied himself with one hand on the theater’s rough stone wall. My parents were murdered? Uncle Steve had always told him they died in a car wreck.

  But it’s not like that’d be the only thing Uncle Steve hid from me.

  But wait, Uncle Steve’s email had made it sound like Gabe’s mother might still be alive! And if that were true, then maybe Jackson Wright didn’t know what he was talking about? Or he’s lying to my face. Gabe wouldn’t put it past him. How did Ghost Boy even know so much about this Eternal Dawn?

  Gabe’s confusion slammed around in his head and his heart and quickly turned to anger. He faced Jackson. “What exactly are you, anyway? Why should we believe a single word you say?”

  Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. “Apart from how I clearly told you the truth about those constables at your door? Fine. I will enlighten you.” He moved closer to Gabe, and his faintly glowing eyes narrowed to slits. “I am someone who has stood very close to the edge of the precipice you now stand upon yourself. Someone who knows what the Dawn and their agents are ready and willing to do.”

  Gabe snarled. “What a bunch of garbage.” Jackson took a step back, which gave Gabe a fierce stab of satisfaction. “You just say a bunch of stuff that doesn’t mean anything! Look, either tell us what you know, straight out, or go back to wherever you came from!”

  The look of shock swiftly fled from Jackson’s features, replaced by his usual unbearable smugness. “Knowledge is dangerous. You will learn that soon enough, but for now I am attempting to keep you safe. Again. So listen to me, all of you: do not go into the theater.”

  Gabe scowled at Jackson for several long heartbeats. “All right, all right. We’ll take your advice this time.”

  Jackson folded his arms across his chest. “Good. I expect I shall see you all again . . . very soon.”

  His translucent body faded, becoming wispy, smokelike, and Brett yelled, “Wait!” But where Jackson Wright had stood, there was only darkness and rain.

  Gabe turned to Brett. “What? What were you going to ask him?”

  Brett averted his eyes again. “I—I just, I didn’t know why he wasn’t being straight with us. Seemed like he knew a lot more than he was saying, y’know?”

  Gabe felt relieved. Brett might have seemed aloof before, but clearly he was paying attention. Gabe started walking toward the back of the theater. “Come on. Let’s see if the back door’s locked, too.”

  From behind him Lily said, “Huh?”

  Kaz grabbed his elbow. “Hold on! You just promised Ghost Boy that we’d stay away from this place!”

  Gabe looked down at Kaz but didn’t stop walking. “Listen to yourself. This morning you didn’t even believe in ghosts.” Gabe tried a smile to soften his words. And maybe to make himself feel a little better. Or at least less awful. He’d always loved his uncle, and still did, but how much had Uncle Steve kept from him? How much of Gabe’s life was a bald-faced lie? He intended to find out.

  Gabe made it to the back door, which was of course locked up just as tightly as the front one. He turned to face his friends. “Look, that Jackson kid was right about the cops, but if getting inside here helps me find out what’s happened to Uncle Steve, I don’t care how dangerous it is.” He paused, looking each of them in the eye. “But this is about me and my uncle. If you don’t want to come with me, I totally understand.”

  Brett and Kaz looked at each other. Gabe couldn’t blame them for their uncertainty. Lily, on the other hand, nodded slowly. “Let me talk to Kaz and my brother for a minute, would you?”

  Lily led Brett and Kaz away from him, and the three of them put their heads together. Gabe stood and waited, grateful for the poncho, though he wondered if his soaked-all-the-way-through feet would ever be warm again.

  Gabe found himself hoping his friends would come with him. He knew he had to face whatever lay inside the theater, but—especially if it turned out to be as dangerous as Jackson Wright made it sound—he really didn’t want to do it alone.

  After about two minutes his friends came back. Gently, Lily said, “Gabe, if you really want to do this, we’ve got your back.” Kaz and Brett both nodded.

  It took Gabe a moment to get the words out, working around the sudden rush of warmth her words gave him. Even in the icy rain. “This is why I didn’t want to move away.” He fought like crazy to keep from tearing up. Brett and Kaz would never let him hear the end of that. “You guys are the best.”

  “So?” Brett asked. “What’ll it be, jefe?”

  “I don’t trust Ghost Boy. I want to take a look inside this place.”

  Kaz nodded. “Then we’re with you.”

  It hadn’t taken more than a puff from her asthma inhaler and a running start for Lily to monkey-climb up to the fire escape. She was barely heavy enough to pull down the extendable ladder, but down it had come, and one unlocked third-floor window later, all four of them stood inside the Liberty Street Theatre, peering through dense shadows and trying not to breathe too loudly.

  They were in what might have been one of the theater’s business offices or maybe an actor’s dressing room. The place was pitch-dark, but with the help of their phones’ flashlights, they found a stairwell and descended to the main floor.

  “This doesn’t make any sense at all,” Brett said once they reached the theater’s lobby. He shined his phone’s flashlight around. “Shut down for ages, and everything looks brand-spanking-new?”

  Gabe couldn’t argue. If he’d walked in off the street, he would have thought the theater was open for business. The plus
h red carpet was clean; no dust had settled on any surface; the lobby sported polished wood and brass finishings that gleamed as if freshly shined. Even the glass at the concession stand was clean and free of fingerprints. “Come on.” Gabe pointed to the big doors that opened into the theater proper. “Let’s keep going.”

  The four of them walked down the main aisle, past row after row of plush, scarlet upholstered theater seats, toward the stage, above which hung a massive glass globe, easily four feet across. The globe glowed with a faint golden light, and something like smoke swirled inside it.

  “Don’t tell me that’s some ancient version of a disco ball,” Lily said, regarding the globe with suspicion.

  Kaz piped up, “What’s a disco ball?”

  Before Gabe or anyone else could answer him, a sound echoed through the theater, loud, unmistakable: a massive lock disengaging. Then another, and another, followed by the metallic creaks of multiple doors swinging open.

  This place wasn’t going to be deserted for much longer.

  “We’ve got to hide!” Gabe whispered. “Come on!” He sprinted the rest of the way down the aisle and around the empty orchestra pit, and clambered up onto the stage. Huge, heavy red curtains hung on either side of it, and he led his friends behind one of them, deep into a pool of shadow. The curtain didn’t quite touch the stage, and once he’d made sure everyone was hidden behind him, Gabe flattened himself and peered out through the gap.

  The sight that greeted him turned his blood to ice water.

  Figures in black, red-lined, hooded cloaks had begun to file into the theater from side doors that Gabe hadn’t noticed at first. Their robes were plain except for a single image woven in gold: a rising sun with outstretched rays glinted above each of their hearts. Some of the cloaked figures wore featureless silver masks, blank but for eyeholes. Others’ faces were simply concealed in the shadows of their hoods. There were dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. “Jackson was right,” Gabe whispered over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t have come in here!”

  Brett tapped him on the back of the neck and pointed. On the far side of the stage, in full view of where they were trying to hide, another door had swung open, and something huge and rectangular was emerging through the doorway. Gabe scrambled to his feet and, glancing around wildly, stabbed a finger at a narrow ladder on the wall behind them. “Up!” he whispered. It was the only direction they could go. “Come on!”