Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  Chapter 15

  I sat on the little couch in my apartment, holding my cell in my hand. I looked down at it without seeing it as I mentally prepared to call my parents. It would be early morning in Saltford, so there would be just enough time to catch them before they went to work. I took a drink of water from the glass on the side table and dialed.

  My mom answered, sounding gleeful. "Hi, sweetpea! What a treat. How's our world traveler?"

  "Hi Mom," I rasped. "I'm good, how are you?"

  There was a sharp intake of breath. "What happened? Are you sick? You sound terrible!"

  "I sound worse than I am. It's just a little chest cold."

  Why had I said that? I had fully intended to tell them about the incident at the tabacchi, so why had I lied? I already knew the answer. They wouldn't believe me anyway. And it was not the kind of story one could tell over the phone. It would send them into panic mode, they might even get on a plane, or worse, make me get on a plane. Emotions tumbled around inside me. The fire now living inside me had given me a shock, but it also fed me with strength. I didn't want to run home to my parents.

  "Oh, poor baby. Is Elda taking care of you? You know it’s not good for you, going in and out of air-conditioning all the time."

  "I know, Mom. Yes, Elda is looking after me. I just wanted to let you know. I'll be fine." I closed my eyes and prayed that the roughness of my voice would eventually go away. "Is Dad there?"

  "Yes, just a second. I'll put you on speakerphone, okay?" There was a click and the sound changed.

  "Hi pumpkin."

  I smiled at his loving tone. Tears welled in my eyes. "Hi Dad."

  "You don't sound so good. What's up?"

  "Just a bit of a sore throat and a cold. I'll be all right. How are you? How are the boys? How's Jack?"

  "Oh, you know us. Nothing much changes. RJ and Jack are both fine. Jack got his tooth fixed yesterday. Looks good as new. How are the boys you're looking after? Good kids?"

  I closed my eyes and breathed a word of thanks for such solid parents. We all knew I had done wrong before I left home. They knew I felt bad enough. Without rubbing my face in it, the implication hanging in the air was subtle but present. Were the kids testing me?

  "They’re really good kids. I lucked out."

  "That's good. Happy to hear it." Dad told me about the car RJ had bought and the work he was doing on the engine. "How's the weather been in Venice?"

  "Hot."

  "Yeah, I can only imagine. It's been hot here, too. So listen, we have to run but call us again later, okay? Just to let us know how you're doing?”

  "Sure, Dad."

  "Can you find some bee propolis there, for your throat?" Mom asked.

  "I'll look. Okay, love you guys. Have a good day at work."

  We said goodbye. I sat there in silence, feeling the fire crackling in my insides. Why hadn't I told them about the tabbachi shop incident? I didn't want them to worry, but I very rarely lied to my parents. You don't trust yourself, Saxony.

  I blinked at this sudden thought and realized it was right. I so rarely kept things to myself that if I had started talking I wouldn't know where to stop and before I could help it, everything would come spilling out. My parents would panic. They might even get on a plane and escort me home. My summer in Italy would be over before it had really begun. Yes, it was best to avoid the whole subject altogether.

  But you'll have to face them sometime. They know you.

  Overwhelmed, I crawled into bed and pulled the sheet over my head.

  Chapter 16

  Three full days passed. When I had shown up in the kitchen looking dazed and distracted, Elda insisted that I take several more days to rest. My voice still sounded burnt out. The flames caused me some discomfort, but they wouldn't kill me. There was a strength to be sourced from this fire; I just wasn't entirely sure how to find it.

  I'd barely seen anyone in three days. I hadn't wanted to, which was very unlike me. I'd made excuses to Fed when she'd texted, inviting me to hang out. Dante hadn't written, and I had barely noticed, which was also unlike me. If it wasn't for the fire, my stomach might be tied in knots for a different reason—I’d be wondering why he hadn’t texted, worrying whether he really liked me or if I’d just imagined it.

  My lips twisted in a sardonic smile. The fire had robbed me of the anxieties of a normal teenage girl with a crush.

  I went into the bathroom, flicked the light on beside the mirror, and looked myself in the face. It was still the same face, but it had changed somehow. My eyes. They were still green, but now they had the same strange reflective quality that I'd noticed in Isaia.

  I splashed cool water into my face, filled one hand, and drank. My other palm was still bandaged. The cool water eased my pain a little. With water, the heat inside me seemed easier to bank, easier to control. I looked up at myself again, my face dripping. Anxiety fluttered in my chest as the same questions surfaced that had been haunting me for three days. My eyes flashed red, like an animal caught in headlights, and I staggered back from the sink, startled. My face crumpled. Who was I now? Or what?

  I swallowed my tears and took a few deep breaths. I needed to talk to someone. But who? None of my friends would believe me, and how could I explain it even if I'd wanted to? I had already picked up my phone multiple times, preparing to set up a video call with the girls, only to put it down again. Every time I started to reach out, something stronger held me back.

  I drank more water, filled a glass, and took it to bed with me despite the fact that it was only seven p.m. I flopped onto my bed and sighed with frustration. The fire licked up inside my ribcage. My limbs had an unexplained energy, like they needed to move. I tried to ignore the feeling, closed my eyes, and waited for sleep.

  My phone vibrated. I rolled over to check it. It was a text from Dante—the first one since the night of the Festival.

  Ciao Bella

  I smiled, and wrote back. Ciao Bello.

  Dante: Fed tells me you're sick?

  Me: Just a bit of fever and a cough, is all.

  Dante: Poor baby. Maybe I can come by? Cheer you up?

  I chewed my lip. I didn't know Dante that well, so I didn't feel comfortable having him at the house. But maybe it was time to stop playing hermit. I needed to get outside. Enough moping. It would be nice to think about something else for a change. Or someone else, rather. I smiled in remembrance of the dance party on the beach, Dante's hands pulling me close.

  Me: I'm feeling better. Just a little cooped up. How about we go for a drink? I'd love something cold.

  Dante: Beautiful. Where?

  I thought again. I didn't want to go far, in case I felt bad and had to come home. There was a juice and smoothie bar not far from the Besaggio's villa.

  Me: Puro?

  Dante: I know it. Love that place. Can you go now?

  Me: Half hour?

  Dante: Perfetto. Look forward to see you.

  I changed out of the jogging shorts and t-shirt I was wearing and into a white sleeveless blouse with a lace inset at the neck, shorts, and a pair of sandals. I left the house early so I could walk slowly. The evening was warm and the sun had only recently gone down, leaving the sky pink. A light breeze cooled my damp scalp.

  Dante was sitting on the edge of a stone fountain not far from Puro, texting. He looked up and gave me a heart-stopping grin. I couldn't help but smile back. I wondered if he'd be able to tell there was something different about me. My stomach gave a nervous flutter.

  Dante tucked his phone away and got up. He took both my hands and kissed each of my cheeks tenderly, his tilted brown eyes devouring my face.

  "You most definitely do not look sick." He took my chin gently between his fingers.

  "Thank you," I rasped.

  "Whoa." His smile faded. "You look beautiful, but you sound rough. Poor thing." He made a sound of empathy and put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. "Let me buy you a juice?"

  I nodded, melting at his tend
erness. I chose peach and strawberry juice and they topped the concoction with mint leaves. Dante ordered an orange juice and we took our drinks back to the fountain to sit down.

  "You didn't text me," Dante said, looking impressed. "All girls text me relentlessly after meeting me."

  "Wow, you're not cocky at all, are you." I canted my head at him. "I guess I'm not all girls." In truth, I probably would have texted him if my life hadn't been thrown into turmoil. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

  "It's clear you're not." He nudged my shoulder with his and took a sip of his orange juice.

  "So, everybody survived the Festa? All of your friends?"

  He nodded, smiling. "But most of those guys aren't really friends."

  "They aren't?" I was surprised. They'd seemed pretty chummy to me. Why else would they be hanging out on a boat together during a holiday?

  "Most of them are... potential employees, let’s say. What is the word in English? Recruits? Is that right?"

  "You party with potential employees? What kind of work are they applying for? Who can drink the most and not drown?"

  He laughed, his almond eyes crinkling. "I like to see what people are like in real life. When they're relaxed and off the clock, you know."

  "What is that you do, exactly?"

  "I have interests in a few businesses in Venezia, mostly in tourism, but some in private security." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "I'd really like to take over my father's business one day. If I can ever get him to see my worth." He muttered this last almost under his breath. I was about to ask him to expand when he snapped back to focus. He pulled a knee up and turned to face me, leaning in closer. "But I don't want to talk about them, I want to talk about you. What's your story?"

  I took a sip of my juice, suddenly nervous under his scrutiny. "I'm pretty boring. Just a small-town Canadian kid looking for adventure in beautiful Italy."

  "Tell me about your family." Dante finished his juice and set the cup down. "Sisters or brothers? Only child? Parents together?" He brushed my hair back over my shoulder, his fingertips grazing my neck. "Boyfriend?"

  I shivered and the fire inside me flickered. Chemistry crackled between us, the kind that Georjayna and I were always going on about.

  "Two brothers, garden-variety parents." I turned to face him, my voice fading to a smoky whisper. "No boyfriend."

  "Hmmmm." He made a noise deep in his throat. "Are you taking applicants for the job?"

  I bit my straw between my teeth, smiling at him over my cup. I took a sip and then said, "I might be. Must be fiercely intelligent, devastatingly funny, and kind to baby animals. Italian heritage will be considered a plus."

  He smiled and leaned closer. "I passed kindergarten and had a pet turtle once, does that count?"

  I gave a dry laugh, air whistling through my throat. His eyes crinkled at me. His lips were heading for mine. I had the sudden and ridiculous thought that Elda and Pietro were somewhere nearby, watching.

  "I'll just pop these in the trash." I grabbed his cup and dodged his kiss at the same time.

  He hung his head comically and I laughed again. I finally felt good for the first time since Isaia gave me the fire. Flirting with Dante made me feel like a normal teenage girl again. I batted my eyes at him over my shoulder and let my hips sway as I walked to the recycling bins.

  He groaned and yelled, "You're killing me."

  I laughed, feeling his eyes on me.

  Two men stood near the bins, smoking cigarettes. One of them jerked his chin toward me. The other turned to look. They both blew two jets of smoke out of their nostrils at the exact same time. An image of two bulls getting ready to charge rose unbidden to my mind and my mouth twitched with humor. One of them said something to me in Italian. I didn't understand what he said, but the suggestive look on his face gave me some idea of his meaning. Down, boys.

  Dante's voice behind me made me jump. How had he gotten here so fast? He put an arm around my waist while he spoke to them, his voice soft but with an edge.

  They exchanged more words, ratcheting the conversation into unfriendly. One of the guys flicked his cigarette at Dante's feet. I stepped back instinctively, but Dante didn't move. His arm tightened around me, holding me still. My head began to throb as the heat of the fire inside me intensified. My eyes felt dry and gummy. We had been having such a nice time. Why did they have to ruin our evening?

  A tense moment of silence passed before Dante spoke again. The two men shared a look, their eyes wide. They uttered what were most certainly apologies and turned to walk away.

  "What did you say?" I watched the two slink away. The taller one threw a resentful look over his shoulder.

  "It's nothing you need to worry about." He kissed my temple and squeezed my waist.

  "No, really. I'd like to know."

  "Sometimes I need to make my ...dominio a little more clearly," he said as we began to walk.

  "Dominio?" I echoed, my eyes narrowed as I tried to make sense of his sentence. I put my fingers to my temples. The headache was getting worse. My eyes were growing hot. I had a flutter of panic. What if my eyes did the glowing thing?

  "Baby, are you okay?" Dante stopped and stood in front of me. He took my face tenderly in his hands.

  "I think I should go home," I said, closing my eyes.

  "Still not feeling good, huh? Okay, I'll walk you."

  "It's okay. Thank you, but really, I'm fine."

  "Don't be stubborn, I'll take you."

  "No, no. I insist. I'm alright. I'll just go straight home to bed, anyway. There's no need and it's not far." I said this firmly. I needed to be alone.

  He didn't answer at first. "Okay, have it your way, bella," he said finally. He kissed my cheeks. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

  "I will. Goodnight. Thank you for the juice." I gave his hand a squeeze and turned toward home.

  I had been a bit rude, I knew. But the throbbing in my head and the plummeting of my mood were overwhelming. Did I feel so badly now because of the confrontation? I couldn't be sure. For once I was thankful that I didn't understand Italian.

  I felt Dante's eyes on my back until I turned the corner.

  Chapter 17

  It was the middle of another sleepless night when I finally gave in to the anxious energy building up in my body. If I didn’t do something expel it, it would drive me mad.

  In irritation, I rolled out of bed. I pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top. After tucking my house key and phone into my back pocket, I slipped out into the dark streets of residential Venice.

  I was grateful that the Besaggio's lived in a relatively quiet area of the city. The air was heavy and humid, and faint laughter could be heard coming from a nearby courtyard. I jogged toward a park that had a small beach. The water promised cool relief.

  Jogging seemed to unleash more energy. I began to sprint, my legs and arms pumping like pistons. The cuts on my left palm and my right knee stung as blood pounded through my body. I ignored the pain. I'd never been athletic, but in this moment, I knew what it felt like to be an athlete. Power surged through me, fueling me. I felt like I was flying. Villas, shops, and courtyards sped by. I bounced off walls, planted a foot, and ricocheted around corners. My ankles felt as strong as they'd ever been. My hair flew back, my scalp cooled by the breeze.

  As I approached the water, I slowed enough to kick off my running shoes and drop my phone and my key inside one shoe. I ran to the water and dove in, moaning at the delicious feeling as it cooled my feverish skin.

  I surfaced and took a deep breath, then sank to my chin. My wet hair floated like seaweed around me. It should have been peaceful, but that sense of unspent energy still plagued me.

  Following my instincts, I called the fire to life and watched as it became visible through my shirt. Stones, sand and seaweed lit up around me, and fish darted away. The pain was there too, as always, but I was getting used to it.

  I began to experiment. I drew the fire up toward my chest and heart.
The sensation of intense heat accompanied the glow wherever it went. I sent the fire down my right arm and into my hand and fingertips, still underwater. Shadows thrown by the stones on the ocean floor moved along with the light.

  I shoved my hand out in front of me, palm facing out into the ocean. The white and red glow shot out my palm, and a ball of light separated itself from me.

  Did I just shoot a fireball?

  I half-laughed, half-sobbed. A fireball. I shot fire out of my hand.

  I watched, still in awe, as the water above my hand bubbled furiously for a second and then died. My arm and hand throbbed with heat, a sort of pleasure-pain. I let go of the glow in my right hand and it felt like it travelled back into my torso of its own volition.

  Did the fire work both ways? Would it come out of my injured hand? I held my left hand up in front of my face. The sodden bandage dripped. Dark blood stained the bandage in a crescent moon shape. I wiggled my fingers, and the cut stung as salt water penetrated it. Taking a deep breath, I drew the fire into my left palm.

  The bandage steamed, then dried up and curled at the edges. I hissed as the cut on my hand stung and burned more intensely, but some instinct inside told me not to quit. I gave it a little more heat.

  The bandage burst into flames. I stared in wonder as bits of ash dropped into the water and the bandage burned away. The pain from the wound stopped instantly.

  I let the glow go back to my torso while I inspected my left hand. The gash across the outer edge of my hand was completely sealed. The white crescent moon scar looked four years old instead of four days. Smooth pink skin lined either side of the scar, as though the skin had melted.

  My mouth dropped open as I realized what this meant—I could heal cuts by cauterizing them from the inside. I focused on the cut on my knee. I sent the glow down my leg. I repeated the exercise, concentrating the heat around my knee, and noticed the exact moment when the pain of the cut disappeared. I let the fire go back to my ribcage.