Autumn Storm

by Lizzy Ford

  She’d heard the rumors, though, the ones that said he’d started slaughtering Light Witchlings. Troubled, Autumn sought to figure out what she was missing, why she felt the way she did about him when he was doing things everyone agreed were very, very wrong.

  “I’m not leaving until I find you, Sam!” she shouted into the forest.

  Very well, child. His voice entered her mind.

  Autumn looked around, waiting for him to appear. Instead, the trees bent away from the path he wanted her to take. It led deeper into the forest. She limped along the trail until it led her to a massive tree stump perched against a hill. Air swept away the snow from the dark entrance of the stump.

  With some anxiety, Autumn stepped into the stump, surprised to find it held a cozy dwelling. Sam sat near a small fire, two mugs of steaming liquid beside him. She sat near him, and he handed her a mug. Sighing at its warmth, she sipped the cider within.

  “I can’t see you going to the grocery store,” she said, peering into the cup.

  The Turners bring us treats.

  “What do you normally eat? Like, plants?”

  Sam grinned. She cringed at the look. We eat what we can catch and cook.

  “Animals, small children?”

  He shook his head, amused.

  “Can I bring you a plate of turkey tomorrow? It’s a holiday for us.”

  If you wish it.

  “Okay.” She studied her cider. “I’ve been working with my magick every day. It’s getting easier. Air is a little hard to work with sometimes. It wants to do its own thing.”

  It’s the most independent of them. When harnessed, it’s very powerful.

  “Can it … project things? Like, the earth put pictures in my head. Does the air show me its memories in a different way?”

  Air connects the conscious and subconscious, mind and emotion. It can project images or compel you through feelings.

  “I thought so.” She fell quiet, troubled. The dancing clouds in the clearing were memories from the air. Was the dark-haired ghost she’d followed to Miner’s Drop also a memory?

  What troubles you?

  “A lot,” she said with a deep sigh. “Stupid things like …boys.”

  The Turner twins cause much heartache. He chuckled.

  Autumn’s face felt warm. Sam was either reading her mind or knew enough about the twins to understand the effect they had on every girl they crossed.

  “Beck was so sweet at first but now is flat-out ignoring me and Decker…” she trailed off. There really wasn’t any way to describe Decker or her confusion about him. “He’s unpredictable. I guess because his elements are?”

  Partially. Decker is a wounded animal.

  “That’s exactly it. He lashes out even when I try to help him. I’ve pieced together what happened to make him like that. No one will tell me everything, but I know he pushed his girlfriend into Miner’s Drop and he can’t get over her. Except sometimes, I don’t think that’s what happened,” she said, pensive. “He hurts too much to do that to someone he loved.”

  He is not all …himself.

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too.” She shivered. “Maybe that thing pushed her, and he didn’t know.” The explanation still didn’t sit well with her. She’d been able to bring him back with a touch.

  Sam was quiet.

  “I wish the elements could just talk,” she said in frustration. “Do they communicate with you the same way?”

  Yes. It is their way. With enough time, you learn to understand most of what they tell you. There are always secrets but - he shrugged - they are no different than humans in that way.

  “I guess. Sam, Decker told me he kills witchlings. But when we’re together, it’s like I belong” she sighed, hating the words “to him. I can’t say I belong with him, because it’s something more than that. It makes me not mind the things he does. And that’s wrong, because he hurts people. Does that make sense?”

  It does.

  “Does that make me a bad person?”

  No, child. His voice was gentle.

  “I feel like it does. What he’s doing is wrong. Me accepting it makes me wrong, too,” she said uncertainly. “But when we’re together, all of that goes out the window. I don’t know what to think. Or feel. Or do.”

  What you do, if you could act without limitations?

  “I’d fix him.”

  I’m not certain he can be fixed. He has chosen to become what he’s becoming.

  “You’ll tell me the same thing everyone else does, won’t you?” She rolled her eyes at him. “There are no second chances when you make a bad choice.”

  It’s a sensitive subject. His words were accompanied by a laugh that left her shaking her head at what he found funny.

  “I didn’t make a bad choice,” she said. “I got hit by a car.”

  Maybe the elements knew you needed to live.

  “Maybe. They didn’t have to hit me with a car, if that’s the case.”

  They have their ways. I do not always understand them either.

  Autumn snorted. She didn’t like that answer. “During my worst days, you know what I thought?”

  He shook his head.

  “I thought – there’s gotta be a reason.”

  Is there?

  “I’m not sure yet. I think sometimes that bad things just kinda happen. Maybe there is no greater purpose or reason to it. You get hurt and move on.”

  Possibly. Sometimes we may not be meant to understand the reasons.

  “That’s kinda depressing.” Tired of trying to make sense of the world, she looked around. Sam had no books, games or televisions in his dwelling. “What do you do out here all day?”

  I watch the world.

  “Doesn’t that get boring?”

  Never. Monday, I saw horrible things that made me doubt you humans. And then I saw you meet the doe at the edge of the forest, and I smiled. Human nature doesn’t let me get bored.

  “She was beautiful, Sam,” Autumn murmured, recalling how soft the doe’s fur had been. “Decker walked back with me. I’ve never walked that far without my cane. I don’t think I would’ve made it without him.” Conflicted about the teen, she fell silent.

  Caring for him does not make you bad.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Trust your instincts and the elements. They will guide you.

  She nodded.

  Wind howled past the opening of the dwelling. They both glanced towards it.

  The storm comes. You will have to leave now or risk being caught here at night. By Sam’s smile, he knew why she rose so quickly.

  “Definitely not doing that,” she said. She wanted to fall into Decker’s shadows too badly. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to claim her. He’d have to earn her by doing what was right.

  She wasn’t sure he could.

  Autumn shook her head. She’d been upset about him almost since arriving to the school. Sam cocked his head to the side, listening to something she couldn’t hear. She waited.

  Beck is almost here. He will take you back.

  She crossed her arms, irritated. “I don’t need help making it back.”

  Sam grinned. I know. He’s trying very hard to do his duty. It is not easy for him.

  “I guess.”

  “Sam?” Beck called into the tree. He entered a moment later, covered in snow. His eyes widened when he saw Autumn, and he froze.

  “I know, it’s storming, we have to go,” she said. “Thank you for talking to me, Sam.”

  You’re welcome.

  “Do you eat mashed potatoes?”

  I don’t know what those are.

  “I’ll bring you some.” She turned to Beck, whose mouth was slack. “Come on.”

  He moved as she approached, saying nothing. Autumn walked by him to the entrance of the stump. Air magick kept the cold and snow out. It was almost pure white out, the snow falling in thick sheets.

  As she watched, the air cleared a path for her. Autumn was several
steps out of the dwelling when she noticed Beck hadn’t followed. She waited for him to emerge. After another long minute, he did. She started away, when he caught her arm.

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said, concern on his face. “What’re you thinking, wandering in the forest in the middle of a storm?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to find Sam, and I did.” She pulled out of his grip. His soothing aura draped over her like the cold air that greeted her when she left the dwelling. She wanted to be angry at him but couldn’t.

  He gave her a long look then shook his head, offering his arm. Autumn took it grudgingly. They walked down the path cleared by magick while snow accumulated quickly around them.

  “I almost called my parents to help me find you. Trust me, you do not want my mom hunting you down,” Beck said.

  “I’m okay,” Autumn replied. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. I’m a little edgy anyway.”

  She looked up at him, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes and the tension in his body. She wondered if Decker hurting Light witchlings was the reason Beck was worried. At once, she felt guilty about her attraction to Decker while judging Beck so harshly. He had a lot on his shoulders.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

  A gust of wind blew snow into their faces. Autumn shielded her eyes then sucked in a deep breath. Air magick swirled in her body. She asked it to protect them from more gusts. To her surprise, a bubble formed around them, preventing wind and snow from reaching them.

  “It’s like a reverse snow globe,” Beck said, fascinated. “Neat trick.”

  The sound of branches snapping made them stop in place. A short distance ahead, a tall tree was splintering under the weight of snow. It bowed dangerously. Beck pulled her into his body to keep her from walking forward.

  “Screw this. We’re taking the short cut,” he muttered.

  Autumn was about to ask him what that meant when the world fell white and quiet, as if they’d walked into a cloud. When the cloud cleared, she stood in a huge kitchen facing a wall of windows through which there was nothing visible but thick snow. She turned to see stainless steel appliances, long sheets of marble counters and aged wood cabinets.

  “Come on,” Beck said, motioning her to follow.

  The log cabin was huge, with twelve foot ceilings, crystal and wrought iron chandeliers, and stone floors covered by thick rugs.

  Beck ducked into room. She entered a few steps behind him. The natural décor extended into the family area, a comfortable if large room with a reading nook, massive flat screen television and theatre-style seating. A hearth blazed on one side. Two men were at the pool table. Both gazed at Beck, one amused and the other curious.

  “Dad, grandpa, this is Autumn,” Beck said. “She’s staying here for a little while.”

  Their gazes turned to her then her cane. “It’s okay, Beck, just take me –“

  “You’re so not off the hook for wandering in the forest during a storm,” Beck said firmly. “Michael Turner, my dad and the short little man there is Grandpa Louis.”

  She rolled her eyes at him then took them in. The twins looked a lot like their father, who was tall and lean with steady brown eyes, hair silvering at the temples and laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. Grandpa Louis was close to her height with cocoa skin, white hair and a warm smile.

  They weren’t what she expected. She sensed their magick: it was gentle and calming, though it seemed to have no effect on Beck’s agitated air.

  “I’ll be back later,” Beck told his family. He gave her a look. “No funny stuff. No running off or calling a cab or whatever. Got it?”

  Something more than her being lost was wrong. Sensing it, she bit her tongue to keep from retorting and nodded. He strode out and back towards the kitchen, muttering about needing cookies.

  An awkward silence fell as his father and grandfather gazed at her curiously. Michael moved at last and motioned her to a cozy armchair near the pool table.

  “Do you play?” he asked.

  She shook her head and crossed to the chair. Autumn tugged off her coat, watching them return to their game. Grandpa Louis tried a bank shot that nudged the wrong ball towards the hole in the corner.

  “It’s mainly geometry,” Michael said.

  “And good aim,” Grandpa Louis added.

  She wasn’t sure what to say. Biji claimed the Turners were billionaires. Looking at the cabin, she could tell they were wealthy. What did she say to someone like that? She’d never had more than the meager stipend the orphanage gave her.

  They played for a few minutes, the soft knocking and padded thumps the only sounds. Michael sank four. Grandpa Louis came back and sank the rest of his then the eight ball.

  “He’s a shark,” Michael said with an easy smile.

  “I’ve had a few more years of playing time,” Grandpa Louis replied. “My dear, would you like some tea?” He passed off his cue to Michael, who dug all the balls out from under the table.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “If Beck didn’t steal all the cookies on his way out, I’ll bring you a few of those as well.”

  She smiled. The small man left.

  “You were out in the storm?” Michael asked.

  “Sorta. I was with Sam.”

  His gaze turned intent. “He doesn’t usually take an interest in the students.”

  “I keep hearing that,” she replied, eyes on her clenched hands. “Um, and thank you for replacing my iPad. I didn’t mean to leave it outside.”

  “Not a problem.” He sounded amused not mad. “I take it you’re not going home for the holiday?”

  “No.”

  “Air magick?”

  She nodded. “And earth secondary.”

  “A rare combination.” His voice was quiet. “A good one, though. Grandpa Louis is earth primary and air secondary. I’m earth.”

  “Must be a very calm household.” She looked up. He was corralling the billiard balls in a triangle.

  “I think they call it balanced,” he said. “My wife was the Mistress of Dark before my son, Decker, took over.”

  “Oh, my god,” she whispered, horrified by the idea of two Deckers in the same house.

  He laughed. “You’ve met one of them?”

  She nodded.

  “The wife of Grandpa Louis was a Dark Mistress, too.”

  “It must be so hard to love someone whose job is to do such things,” she said. “How are you so normal?”

  “You take things one day at a time.”

  It didn’t seem possible that anyone could tolerate such a life. Autumn didn’t want to consider what the man before her might’ve been through or how he managed to smile when he knew what his wife had done.

  Grandpa Louis returned with a tray of tea. She smiled as he set it down on the small table beside her chair. He and Michael pulled up chairs to join her. Grandpa Louis handed her a delicate cup and saucer that looked old. She balanced it carefully, suspecting nothing in the house was cheap.

  “I see you have battle wounds,” Grandpa Louis said, eyes on the scar on her neck. “Let me show you one of mine.”

  Autumn stared into her tea, embarrassed. The elderly man rolled up one flannel sleeve to display a twisted, mottled scar that ran from wrist to elbow.

  “Wow,” she said, not expecting him to have anything resembling her scars. “I can’t imagine what did that.”

  “I was in Vietnam,” he explained. “Mortar attack sent my bayonet up into my arm and out my elbow. Scars are badges of honors. They tell people you’ve lived a full life.” He was smiling.

  She hesitated, uncertain if she wanted to show her scars. Setting the tea down, she lifted her hair from the side of her face.

  “It runs to here, “she said, pointing to a spot on her chest. “Mine are all from a car accident.”

  “I might have one that long,” he said, pensive.

 
She smiled, surprised.

  “I do.” Grandpa Louis sat back and rolled up one pant leg, revealing a scar that ran from his knee to his ankle.

  “I might be able to beat that,” she said. Leaning forward, she tugged up her legging on her bad leg to her knee.

  “You win, my dear,” Grandpa Louis said. “You are the first to best me at this game in twenty years.”

  Autumn laughed at the bizarre competition. She glanced at Michael, whose gaze was on her amulet. It had fallen free of her sweater when she bent over. He seemed less interested in it than the chain that consisted of worn, silver links. She’d never thought twice about it.

  “He does this with all our guests,” he said with a faint smile. “It usually scares people.”

  “Autumn and I have lived, Michael, and we have the proof to show it,” Grandpa Louis replied.

  “We’ve survived,” she agreed.

  “Grandpa Louis went to war. You’re young for such scars,” Michael said to her. “They are newish, too, aren’t they.”

  She nodded. The men had gentle, warm presences that put her at ease. Michael seemed troubled. Autumn saw his delayed smile, as if he was thinking.

  “Three months old,” she said.

  “They’ll likely fade,” Grandpa Louis said.

  “I hope they do. You might beat me, if so.”

  “I might,” he agreed, the skin around his eyes softening as he smiled.

  “We were talking about how to live with our Dark Mistresses,” Michael said.

  “One day at a time,” Grandpa Louis said. “It’s harder on them than us. We don’t suffer as they do.”

  “We bring calm and comfort,” Michael agreed. “The Dark Masters are known for bloodlust. They’re always right at the edge of the Darkness. It tries to drag them over to it while they try to keep it from creeping farther into the world.”

  “It’s a dangerous balance,” Grandpa Louis added. “They cannot do it alone.”

  She listened, intrigued by their words. Nothing like this was in the orientation book or the classes she’d had Tuesday about the Dark.

  “Every Dark Master or Mistress has a preordained mate,” Michael explained. “Someone who anchors them, so the Darkness can’t get them.”

  “Decker lost his,” Grandpa Louis’s voice was sad. “I do not think we are enough for him, Michael.”