Awakening (Elementals Book 1)

by Sara Preucil

  “Austin’s up!” Mariah nudged Emmy, jolting her abruptly back to the present. Emmy clapped along as Austin set up the football behind the offensive line, wound up, and kicked it, sending the oval ball soaring neatly between the goal posts.

  On the ground, the cheerleaders exploded into a frenzy of peppy motion, the spectators cheered, the team celebrated.

  All this seemed to happen in slow motion for Emmy, who—in that moment—felt a dizzying wrench somewhere behind her navel. Her heart leapt in her chest as she felt a presence. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, but somehow she could feel the familiar essence of someone. And they were close.

  Emmy glanced around the sea of hats and hoods, the backs of many heads, until she found what she was looking for.

  One face was turned away from the field, looking up into the stands.

  At her.

  The teenage boy was someone Emmy was sure she had never set eyes on before, and yet there was something so familiar in his gaze. She stared at him, examining his features. He was lovely, achingly so. His oval face was disrupted by sharp, high cheek bones and an angular jaw. His longish platinum bangs were swooped back off his forehead, exposing his dark eyebrows which were drawn together from the slight frown he wore as he tilted his head to the side. Under these intense brows, two impossibly blue eyes looked up at her, holding her in their gaze.

  Emmy’s head spun. Images started to form in her mind. The howling of dogs, men on horses crossing a river…

  Water.

  And fire.

  “Austin is waving!” Mariah nudged Emmy.

  She blinked, and the boy was gone.

  Dazedly, Emmy looked over to the field, where the players were returning to the sidelines. Austin had removed his helmet and was waving in her direction. Emmy smiled and waved back. A huge grin spread across Austin’s face, and Emmy was immediately filled with guilt over the strangely intimate moment she had just shared with someone else.

  For the rest of the game, she was determined to play the supportive girlfriend. She chanted along with the cheerleaders, she rooted for Austin whenever he took the field, and she forced all thoughts of that strange boy out of her mind.

  Mostly.

  Chapter 8

  The weekend went by in a dark, rainy blur. The summer weather seemed to have completely abandoned Bellingham, and the gray skies and rain were appearing to settle themselves in for the long haul. The heavy, dark sky finally opened up late Friday night—luckily only after Emmy returned home from the football game—and continued through Sunday. Emmy didn’t mind the shift in weather so much; she was scrambling to write her history paper on mastaba tombs, which she honestly should have started a week ago, and the lack of sun meant she wasn’t tempted to go outdoors. There was also her biology homework on the endocrine system that needed finishing.

  On Sunday evening, Austin picked Emmy up from the coffee shop at Boulevard Park, where she and Mariah were finishing up their homework. They had dinner plans with his parents. Emmy packed her bag slowly, less than excited to sit down with his parents.

  The wipers on Austin’s Audi brushed water from the windshield as they tried to keep up with the rain. Emmy and Austin chatted about their respective weekends a little as they drove, but Emmy was having a difficult time staying upbeat during their conversation. Secretly, she wished that she hadn’t finished her homework and would thus have a valid excuse for getting out of dinner. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like Austin’s parents, exactly, it was more like she didn’t know what to talk to them about. She couldn’t possibly be any more different from them if she tried.

  Fiona and Reed Whitlock were the quintessential products of long lines of old money and Ivy League legacies. Hardly any of the foster parents Emmy had stayed with were college educated, and she was fairly certain she’d end up going to a community college. The immaculately manicured middle-aged Whilocks lived with their only son in an exquisite Victorian family home in the hamlet of Fairhaven. Most of the homes Emmy had lived in were run down and brimming over with children. There was not much commonality to get them through a conversation.

  Fiona was currently taking a break from her career as a self-proclaimed decorator—which really only consisted of designing her home, Reed’s office, and a couple of other places for family and friends. Her time was now invested in many club and society events. Austin and Emmy often got invitations to various charities, fundraisers, and openings, most of which they were now too conveniently occupied with school, and their internship, to attend.

  As for Reed, who was nearly always indifferent, if not cold, the only thing Emmy actually knew about him was his patronage of Modern Alchemy. As he was an inheritor of a large family trust fund, setting him up nicely, Emmy was fairly certain he never had to seek employment his whole life. Reed’s main occupation was the management of his family money, which evidently, he was quite good at. This made his investment in MA more of a passion project than a necessity.

  Since Emmy had no real family of her own to speak of—having been part of the system for as long as she could remember—she had always hoped that she would have a good relationship with her significant other’s parents. Her relationship with the Whitlocks was rocky to say the least. Emmy couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was a coldness to their interactions with Emmy that left her feeling like they didn’t like her very much.

  Emmy and Austin finally arrived at the restaurant, which was a nice Italian establishment in Fairhaven that Reed picked out.

  That was another thing about the Whitlocks, there was no choice involved when it came to them. They picked the restaurants or any other activity involving Austin and Emmy, and it didn’t even occur to them to ask their opinions. Or at least if it did, they chose not to.

  Austin and Emmy were running five minutes late, so when they checked in with the hostess, they were informed that the rest of their party was already seated. Emmy sighed, knowing that their tardiness would eventually come up in some way or another during the course of the evening.

  They were shown to the table where Fiona and Reed sat, both wearing timelessly chic outfits that somehow looked both classically vintage and brand new.

  Reed was swirling a glass of red wine impressively, his salt and pepper hair was slicked back impeccably, and the collared shirt and sweater ensemble he wore looked to have come straight out of a catalogue. Fiona sat next to him, her blonde hair pulled back into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck, displaying large diamond studs in her ears. Her thin red lips pursed slightly when she noticed Austin and Emmy approach. Her eyes slid once over Emmy’s outfit—jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt—which contrasted sharply with Fiona’s classic little black dress.

  Emmy felt her cheeks flame, and was glad for the dim lighting inside the restaurant. Would it have killed Austin to tell her to dress up a bit? Not that she owned anything that would match Fiona’s expectations, but still, she was sure she had a skirt somewhere that she could have dug up for the occasion.

  They sat down, said their hellos, and Emmy picked up a menu, turning its sleek black cover to view the cursive scrawl within.

  “You were running a bit late so we went ahead and ordered already,” Fiona explained, delicately folding her napkin into her lap. Emmy immediately set the menu back on the mahogany table.

  “Sorry, mother,” Austin said, taking a sip of water. Emmy gritted her teeth, wishing that Austin would point out that waiting five minutes wouldn’t have killed them. Especially since if the situation were reversed, they would have been expected to do just that.

  “Did you kids enjoy the first day of your internship?” Reed asked dryly after a few moments of awkward silence.

  Austin began to talk, which Emmy was grateful for; since she was now only required to chime in with sounds of agreement as he described their experience.

  Luckily, not too much time had passed before the waiter arrived at their table with their dinner. He laid out four identical plates. Emmy gazed into
hers, her heart sinking.

  “It’s the restaurant’s specialty,” Reed explained.

  A mixture of seafood, including shrimp, clams, and mussels, was smothered in a tomato sauce over fettuccini noodles. Emmy despised all seafood that wasn’t fish.

  They dug in and Emmy did her best to eat around the assorted seafood—which basically only left the noodles.

  “You aren’t eating your dinner,” Fiona pointed out unnecessarily. “Is there something wrong with it?”

  Emmy blushed for the second time that evening. “No,” she mumbled, “it’s just that seafood isn’t really my favorite.”

  “Austin didn’t tell us you were so particular.”

  Emmy took a long drink from her water glass to prevent herself from replying. Plenty of people don’t like seafood, she thought angrily. For all you know I could be allergic to it.

  Still, Austin didn’t come to her rescue.

  “It’s fine.” Emmy forced herself to take a small bite of shrimp.

  “See?” Austin nudged her. “Pretty good, right?”

  “Mhmmm.” Emmy took another gulp of water, swishing it around in her mouth to wash down the immorally wrong combination of red sauce and shrimp.

  Over the next forty minutes, Emmy endured her dinner with the Whitlocks, taking gulps of water to prevent herself from responding instinctually to Fiona’s tactless comments. The waiter had already refilled her glass twice when Fiona made her latest remark about Emmy’s hair. Instead of commenting like most people would with a, “Your hair color is pretty,” or, “What a unique hairstyle,” Fiona bluntly asked, “Why did you color your hair that color?”

  Emmy fingered her bright red tips gently before taking another sip of water, and answering with the second response that came to mind.

  “I’m not sure. I just wanted a change, and I like the color.”

  “Hmm,” was all the reply Fiona gave.

  Emmy sat in Austin’s car, seething, as he drove her back to the park after dinner. Really, why did his parents even want to have dinner with her if they were just going to either ignore her, like in Reed’s case, or tactlessly and passive-aggressively pick on her like Fiona?

  “You’re pretty quiet; are you okay?” Austin asked as they pulled into the spot next to her Geo. He turned the engine off, setting his hazel eyes on Emmy.

  Emmy wanted to vent her feelings, but they were still in a relatively new relationship, and if she complained about his parents to him, she was running the risk of offending him. They hadn’t yet had a single fight, and Emmy didn’t want to ruin that streak.

  “I’m good,” she lied. “Just tired.” She opened the door. Austin got out too, and hurried over to her car, taking her by the wrist before she could duck inside.

  He hugged her. “Have a good night.”

  Emmy broke the hug first and got into her car before he could do more. For the first time, she didn’t feel like kissing Austin. Even though he had no control over what his mom said, Emmy still felt like he could have stepped in if he had wanted to and spared her feelings.

  Coaxing her Geo to life, Emmy turned to wave at Austin through her window. But he was looking down at his phone. The screen illuminated his face; his brows were furrowed. He looked upset. Emmy realized that she must have hurt his feelings. She pulled out of the parking spot, regretting her coldness toward Austin. It wasn’t his fault that his mom was a stuck-up shrew.

  When Emmy got home, she immediately texted Austin.

  Thanx for dinner. See you tomorrow!

  Emmy fell asleep waiting for his reply.

  Chapter 9

  Province of New Hampshire, 1732

  Kai’s screams echoed through the dark house. Kenna rocked back and forth in anguish against the rough wooden floor, the shackles that bound her wrists painfully behind her back clanged together. Each scream tore into her, piercing her soul and sending great wracking waves of torment so tangible that she might as well have been the one being tortured.

  “Please!” she begged for the countless time between sobs. “Please, make them stop!”

  A graying man with a long beard stood across the room; his cold eyes stared silently down at Kenna. The bottom few inches of his long scarlet robes were damp from their trek through the snow.

  ✽✽✽

  Not long after their fated meeting on the river bank, after Kenna lost hope of finding her sister, she and Kai secured themselves passage on a ship. The vessel, filled to the brim with trade goods that ranged from spices, to fabrics, to people, carried them to a new world. They had landed, after far too long at sea for Kenna’s unaccustomed stomach, in the busiest port filled with more people than she had ever before seen in one place. Kai purchased all the immediate supplies necessary for travel, including a cart pulled by a horse, and they set out to the north as planned to start their new life together.

  ✽✽✽

  It had been the middle of the night when the company of men barged into the cabin that Kai and Kenna had built. The small fire had all but burned out, only a few coals still glowed faintly as the front door was knocked down with a thunderous crash. Men flooded into their bedroom. Kai was closer to the door and was tackled first. Kenna was only able to let fly one single blast of fire before she too was wrestled to the floor. Struggling, and completely outnumbered, they were dragged out of their house and into the wintry night.

  Kenna thrashed fruitlessly against the men that held her, her wrists had been tied behind her back, and her hands were incased in what felt like a metal muff. They were dragging her to the road where even more cloaked figures waited on horseback. They had two horse drawn carts with them; Kenna could see something large on the back of each cart. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she struggled harder against the men.

  There was scuffling behind her, and she twisted against the men’s hold to see Kai throwing off the men that held him.

  He broke free and spun, arms outstretched toward the long, pointed icicles that had formed along the rim of their roof. With a scream, he twisted, throwing his arms out toward the men. The frozen daggers dislodged themselves and careened through the air past Kai to bury themselves into the chests of his would-be captors.

  He then turned on the men holding Kenna, eyes blazing. She was spun around so that her body was between Kai and her abductors. There was the sharp ringing of metal, and something razor-edged pressed against Kenna’s throat. The light died in Kai’s eyes, and he dropped to his knees in surrender as the others dismounted their horses and hurried to contain him.

  They were gaged and shoved into cages atop the wooden carts, and then the ground beneath Kenna gave an almighty lurch as the horses started to move. The caravan travelled in relative silence for a while; the only sounds were Kenna and Kai’s muffled protests and the crunching of the horse hooves and cart wheels over the snow. Kai was somewhere in front of Kenna, but she was unable to see around the bulk of the horse pulling her cart.

  Kenna tried to summon any sort of flame, but she was far too cold. The biting metal that covered her hands had completely numbed them. Their skirmish in the snow had soaked her cotton sleeping gown through and had left her bare feet feeling as though she had been marched over broken glass. She curled up into herself, shivering violently.

  The procession continued for a while. Kenna, succumbing to the cold, had started to drift in and out of sleep. When she next opened her eyes, the sky had lightened to a purple gray.

  They were slowly approaching a building; its dark silhouette was one that Kenna recognized.

  It was an abandoned farmhouse that she and Kai would sometimes pass on their way into town. Last spring, the thaw had brought about a dangerous rise in the water level of a nearby river. The river flooded and swept away an entire flock of sheep that the old land owner had relied upon. He was forced to move away, abandoning the structure to the elements.

  Now, multiple horses and a couple of carriages were parked under the slanting roof of the small barn near the house. Clearly, th
e house was currently occupied.

  Kai and Kenna were dragged inside the decrepit house and immediately separated. Kenna had been led up the stairs and shut into an empty room. Soon after, she had been joined by the scarlet-clad man who had done nothing but stand in the corner, watching her, holding a small black book in his hands.

  The sun’s first rays brought a hazy golden light to the room, and suddenly the screams stopped. Heavy footsteps clunked down the hall and the door to the room in which Kenna was being held swung open.

  “Chancellor.” The man who entered greeted the man in scarlet.

  “Well?” The latter demanded.

  “The unnatural told us nothing, sir. He either didn’t know where more of their kind are, or he was lying. He was stubborn, and more questioning very well may have killed him before we had a chance to do the proper ritual.”

  “And did you have time?”

  “Yes, Chancellor, he has been purified.”

  Kenna’s chest tightened. What did he mean by ‘purified’?

  The chancellor pressed his lips together. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased. He opened his book, mouthed a few silent words, and then snapped it shut. For the first time, Kenna noticed a small symbol engraved against the leather cover. It comprised of two overlapping solid triangles; one pointed up, the other pointed down.

  “And the girl?” the man asked.

  “Take her to the river.”

  Kenna was pulled to her feet, shoved into the hallway, and led back down the rickety stairs.

  “Fire to balance water…water to balance fire,” the chancellor was mumbling behind them as they walked.

  The first floor was much warmer, as fires had been lit in the living room below. A terrible smell chocked Kenna as they arrived on the landing. The smell of burned flesh. She remembered it well.

  Fear gripping her, she scanned the room desperately for Kai.

  Briefly, she caught sight of him before being pushed out of the front door.