Air: The Elementals Book Two

by L. B. Gilbert

  “He’s in here,” Salome said, opening a closed door at one end of the second floor.

  The little boy was on the left side of a large bed, asleep with his hair plastered to his head. A tall, leggy blonde was sitting next to him, but she stood when they entered.

  “Thanks for sitting with him, Riley,” Salome told the blonde. “This is the Elemental Connell was tracking. She’s come to help. Logan, this is Riley, Connell’s mate.”

  14

  Where the hell had all the oxygen gone? Had she accidentally sucked all the air out of the room? Were the wolves still breathing? Was she?

  The block of ice that had once been her stomach was radiating cold, freezing her from the inside out. Could they tell? Did she look as shocked as she felt?

  “Oh.”

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why weren’t the winds commenting right now? Was it true? Or was it a lie?

  The fickle currents were silent. Bloody figures. They were useful only when they wanted to be and sometimes even got in the way. Maybe silence was the better outcome in this case…

  Gathering herself, Logan straightened and looked at the pneumatic blonde with what she hoped was a neutral expression. “It’s nice to meet you. Please get out.”

  Suspicion and distaste flashed across the blonde’s face and took up residence there. “Why?”

  “I would like to examine the patient alone.”

  “All right,” Salome agreed with a polite nod before moving to step into the hallway.

  Riley frowned, her model-perfect features distorting. “I don’t think so. One of our kind should be here at all times when it’s here.”

  Well, at least Logan had a good reason to hate her now. She smiled sweetly at Riley before picking her up and unceremoniously dropping her on the other side of the door.

  Salome and the blonde gave her a stunned glance, one Logan didn’t stop to enjoy before slamming the door shut in her face. After, she shuddered, drawing in a deep breath.

  What the hell? How could Connell do this to her? Why hadn’t the winds told her about his mate? Why hadn’t he?

  Fuck. Bracing herself against the door with one hand, she counted to ten.

  “Are you okay?”

  Logan’s turned around. The little boy was awake. His voice was weak and hoarse, scratchy.

  Get ahold of yourself. This is why you’re here. Forget about the man and concentrate on the crime.

  Shoving her feelings deep down, she focused on the child in front of her. It took a major effort of will to turn off her emotions, but she wasn’t an Elemental for nothing.

  However, it was harder than she would have imagined to ignore the pain blindsiding her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she’d hoped.

  She walked to the bedside table and poured him a glass of water from the carafe sitting there. “Here,” she said, giving him a sip of water, which he took gratefully.

  He signaled that he was done, and she put the glass down. “Who are you?”

  She smiled at him and introduced herself. “My name is Logan. I’m an Elemental. I’m here to investigate what happened to you and Connell.”

  Saying his name aloud made an icy shard shoot through her chest, but she pushed it away, embracing the numb coldness that followed. It’s temporary, like your mistake with him. A brief lapse in judgment. It’s going to be okay, she reassured herself.

  That felt like a lie.

  She refocused on Sammy. He was the reason she was here and she owed it to him to give him her best.

  “I’m going to examine your aura now,” she said, walking over and taking his hand.

  He was hot to the touch. The little boy exhaled sharply when she made contact, and for a second, she was worried she’d hurt him. Technically, touching him wasn’t necessary, but it did make the connection more immediate. His naturally blue aura was streaked with purple, except for where it was torn with the same sickly green she’d seen in Connell’s.

  “Is this worse? I don’t need to hold you to do this,” she said in concern, starting to let go of his hand.

  “No!” he protested weakly. “It feels better. Don’t let go.”

  Logan frowned. She didn’t have any healing ability, so maybe his response was psychosomatic. “Okay, we’ll just hold hands for now,” she said with a smile, covering his hand with hers.

  He was an adorable little boy, with dark eyes and hair and a slight cocoa cast to his skin. He was still a little sweaty from his fever. She put her other hand on his forehead, but he didn’t feel that hot.

  Sammy sighed again, moving his head as if he was rubbing his head against her hand, like a little cat. Logan was surprised, but she didn’t say anything to call attention to his action. It might embarrass him.

  “Can I take a look at your back?” she asked him.

  He nodded and tried to roll over, but he was too weak. She helped him and lifted the top of his pajamas to reveal his waist.

  Well, fuck me. There it was—a tiny cut at the base of his spine. It wasn’t a scar, but a fresh cut. Was it a mark from a knife? Something ceremonial that was used in some sort of ritual?

  Whatever had done it, it didn’t seem to matter if the subject in question was full grown or a child. Sammy’s aura had the same damage as Connell’s did. It had the sickly green signature at the ragged edges, but it was tinted with a white-hot edge instead of a yellow one.

  Shit. The damage was similar to Connell’s at first glance, but it was worse. More had been taken, and what was left of his aura was eroding.

  Logan’s stomach gave a sharp lurch. Sammy’s aura was bleeding away into the aether. The leak was barely visible, less than a trickle under her trained eye, but it was there. And if she didn’t do something, he was going to die.

  She probed the wound meticulously, looking for traces of a spell. She remembered what Diana had told her about the spell that had affected the vampire’s human servant during her first investigation with Alec. That curse had manifested like an octopus, digging into the man’s aura and wiping away much of his memory and personality.

  Unfortunately, this was nothing like that. There was no hidden spell woven into the fabric of Sammy’s aura. There was only the damage from where the wolf had been torn away, just like Connell. It was as if a blind man had performed surgery.

  Was it her imagination or was the white edge turning yellow?

  “Sammy?”

  His eyes had closed and his breathing had evened out, his body relaxing. He felt cooler. Logan told herself that she’d bored him to sleep, but she was starting to wonder. Could she affect his aura? Was it possible that she could heal him?

  Logan heard herself telling Connell she wasn’t a healer, but she ignored her own voice. She had to stop the aura bleed. But she didn’t know how. At a loss, she checked Sammy’s temperature with an actual thermometer. He was only a few degrees above average for a wolf, so she covered him with a sheet and threw open the window.

  Gia, she called.

  There was no answer. She sent out a call to her other sisters, but they were silent, no doubt busy with their own cases.

  “Okay,” she said, biting her lip.

  She was on her own for the moment. And she had to make a decision. Sammy was too young to survive this kind of damage, despite the drop in his fever. That was only temporary. It would spike again, and he’d burn up without the protection of his aura.

  If this was how Connell had looked right after his attack, it was a miracle he was still alive—his status as card-carrying asshole notwithstanding.

  There it is. Her hurt was safely tucked away. All she’d needed was a little perspective. Connell’s cheating ass was now in a little box marked ‘do not open’. She’d deal with her feelings about him later. Right now, she had work to do.

  Except she didn’t know what that should be. She closed the window and stared at Sammy’s sleeping form.

  Crap, he was so little. Normally, her blood would be boi
ling, and she’d be in the air hunting down whoever had done this to him. But she couldn’t leave him.

  Impulsively, she picked up the little boy off the bed. She had an idea. She was going to envelop Sammy with her power. Connell had said dematerialization was painful, so that was out, but there was another way she could try.

  Making sure the blanket was still wrapped around him, she sat on the bed with the child on her lap. Settling him more comfortably, she called the winds.

  Mara gritted her teeth and suppressed the urge to unsheathe her claws.

  Riley had been trying to convince her to go upstairs for the last ten minutes. Apparently, she didn’t trust the Elemental any more than Mara did, but the fact that Riley wanted her gone was enough to give Logan the benefit of the doubt.

  Turning a deaf ear to Riley’s continuing complaints, Mara focused on comforting Salome. But it wasn’t easy to ignore her brother’s ex. Riley had always embodied what she’d hated the most about pack females.

  The voluptuous Were was power hungry and vindictive…but only around other women she saw as rivals. And Mara was one of those women.

  Around men, Riley was whatever they wanted her to be, a chameleon who would pretend to love whatever they did. She excelled at making herself the center of attention. The behavior would last until the men were gone, and then Riley’s true nature revealed itself.

  It made Mara sick on behalf of her sex.

  Their father had no idea how badly Riley had hurt her brother. Mara wanted nothing more than to throw the blonde bitch out on her ass. But her hands were tied. She had to put up with the other wolf given the situation with Sammy, Riley’s cousin.

  Mara wanted to believe that the other Were was genuinely concerned for the cub, but she knew better. Riley was playing the family card to stay in the thick of things…and around Connell now that he was back. After all, Riley hadn’t shown her face until they heard he was on his way home. She obviously regretted cheating on him and wanted to patch things up.

  Please God, don’t let Connell take her back.

  Unfortunately, it was a real possibility. There weren’t too many options out there for her brother. Most of the pack in the vicinity was related to each other in one way or another. As a group, they were discouraged from mixing bloodlines too closely, but any safe union between principal families was strongly encouraged.

  Despite her wish to the contrary, Mara knew Riley was the likeliest choice as a mate for Connell, the future alpha. Or at least, she had been before the selfish cow had blown up her relationship with him.

  There was also one other thing Mara was worried about. If Connell regained his wolf, and Riley managed to sucker him into forgiving her, Mara would be stuck as her subordinate for the rest of their lives. That was the way pack hierarchy worked. A female’s position was determined by her mate’s rank. It was almost enough to make her wish Connell’s wolf would stay lost…

  Feeling guilty for that selfish impulse, Mara was startled by a loud crash. She leaped to her feet. The noise had come from the upper floor.

  “I told you,” Riley hissed at her in triumph.

  Shit. She didn’t answer, hesitating as Riley and Salome ran up the stairs. Mara looked around for her father, but he was probably still outside pacing, his cell phone in hand, waiting on an update from Connell. Swearing, she decided not to delay by going to get him.

  The noise grew louder as she made her way upstairs to the guest suite they’d converted into a sickroom for Sammy. Salome glanced her way from the open door, her eyes huge.

  Fuck. Mara’s heart picked up, and she sprinted the final few steps to the door.

  She hadn’t believed Connell would bring home someone dangerous, but when she took in the scene inside the guest room, her stomach dropped like a stone.

  Logan was sitting on the bed in the center of the room with Sammy in her lap. It was almost like a scene from a painting—idyllic and calm. But they were in the middle of a cyclone.

  All the loose objects in the room were spinning crazily in a circle around them. The winds were contained to the room, and the noise was crazy loud, like a roaring beast.

  “She’s killing him!” Riley yelled over the noise.

  The blonde Were rushed into the room, but she was promptly struck in the chest by a table lamp whipping out of nowhere. Riley hit the ground, hard.

  Mara could swear Logan’s lip twitched as Riley struggled to get up. But the force of the wind was keeping her on the ground. Mara started forward to help when a large hand restrained her.

  “Riley, get out of there,” her father said calmly. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind them.

  Riley’s face screwed up. “But she’s—”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s not hurting him. Get out of here.”

  Mara raised startled eyes to her father. Are you sure? she mouthed. Douglas nodded curtly.

  Crawling on her hands and knees, Riley scuttled to their side. Once she was at the doorframe, she was able to stand. Dusting herself off with a frown, she rounded on Douglas. “What is she doing?” Riley asked in a shrill voice.

  “She’s helping,” her father rumbled, reaching out for the doorknob.

  He closed the door with a thud, and the sound of the rushing wind ceased.

  Was that normal? She hadn’t heard the wind from downstairs. What she’d heard was one of the flying objects hitting the wall. But not the strange magic wind.

  “Everybody, downstairs,” Douglas ordered.

  Behind him, Riley’s face twisted in an incredulous expression, but she followed him down when he led the way. Salome hurried to join them, but Mara lingered, throwing a last glance at the closed door of the bedroom.

  When she went downstairs, her father was alone in the kitchen, sipping a coffee. She didn’t say anything about the strong smell of whiskey that came from the mug. Instead, Mara poured her own cup and sat down to drink it.

  She always took her coffee black, unlike Connell, who put so much crap in it that it was more like he was having dessert in a mug. But whenever she called him out for it, he would smile smugly and say he needed the calories. She hated that it was true.

  The silence stretched so long she cracked. “Do you know what the Elemental is doing?” she asked her father.

  Douglas exhaled audibly. “I think she’s trying to wrap him up in her energy somehow—a bit like I tried to do.”

  Mara nodded. As the chief, her father had the ability to focus the energy of the pack. He used it sparingly, most often in battle to infuse his wolves with strength. But sometimes, he was able to tap into it when a wolf was injured beyond his or her own ability to heal. The energy of pack had amazing healing ability when it was directed properly. Her father had that skill; however, it hadn’t helped with whatever had been done to her brother.

  It had been a shock when Douglas had been unable to help him. Then Sammy had been struck down, and she’d hoped, this time, he might have better luck. That hope had dwindled quickly.

  The fact that both Sammy and Connell were still alive and breathing was a miracle. But it was one that might not last. Among the old guard, there was a lot of doubt that Sammy would survive. Connell had been a soldier, and he was the strongest wolf in the pack. Or at least he had been. But Sammy was only a cub. Some of her father’s friends had been blunt about his chances when he’d been brought in.

  Even Bishop, Sammy’s father, was acting as if he were already gone. He was focused on hunting down the person responsible. He and a few others kept scouring the woods, going out repeatedly instead of spending any time with his boy. Mara suspected he was avoiding the sickroom because he couldn’t handle his son’s inevitable death.

  Except it may not be inevitable.

  “What do you think of Logan?” she asked.

  Her father scowled, his eyes distant. “What I think doesn’t matter. It’s what your brother thinks that’s the problem.”

  Mara’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
<
br />   Her father focused on her for a second before turning away abruptly, as if he’d just heard a noise.

  “Nothing,” he muttered, but he hurried to the back door.

  Wondering if the search team was back, Mara sprang up to follow him. However, there were no cars coming up the drive.

  Her dad started down the stairs, scanning the horizon. Or she thought so at first. His gaze was low as if he were looking for something on the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, confused.

  Douglas didn’t reply. He was scanning the ground intently.

  “Dad?”

  He held up a hand for silence, stooping to put his ear to the dirt.

  Oh God, he’s lost it.

  Maybe the stress had finally done him in. She was about to take his hand to try to lead him into the house when he straightened up and dusted himself off. He joined her on the porch steps and crossed his arms resolutely—almost as if he were posing.

  Mara nearly bit her tongue in surprise when the ground began to give way a few feet from the steps. It wasn’t like a sinkhole. Instead, it was like the ground had liquefied. It rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by a dropped stone. But there was no sign of what had caused the disturbance—not until a head emerged from the center of the quickening sand.

  That head was followed by the rest of the body, complete with arms and legs. It was a woman. Her hair and eyes were dark black, set against light, cocoa-colored skin. Her cheekbones could cut glass. The stranger was more striking than beautiful, with an ascetic reserve found in those with Native American blood—although her face looked like a mix of indigenous and European features.

  Mara blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “Why aren’t you dirty?”

  The stranger glanced down at her clothes and smiled. “Practice.” Then she turned to her father and bowed slightly. “Greetings, Douglas Maitland, Chief of the Colorado Basin Pack.”

  Her father stood up a little straighter. He inclined his head with equal formality. “Hello, Gia.”