Elemental Awakening Book Bundle

by Nicola Claire

  I missed her already.

  Feeling entirely too miserable about this change in my life, I wandered out into the lounge of my small apartment, taking in the many potted plants and immediately feeling soothed. I frowned at the closest plant, a Chinese Evergreen. I did feel better being near it, than I had in the bathroom where only one Maidenhair Fern hangs above the bath. Now I was standing right beside a pot plant on an occasional table next to the couch. And it felt nice. Good. Right.

  I reached out and traced the tip of my finger down one of the leaves.

  The plant shivered delicately with my touch.

  I paused, glanced across the room to an Areca Palm then lifted my hand as though to beckon the branches towards me. The Areca waved back.

  My eyebrows rose up under my fringe and I slowly turned around in a circle. As my gaze swept past each potted plant in the room they bowed. Literally bent over, shook their leaves out in acknowledgement, and then stood themselves back upright again. The delicate rustling of their foliage, as they made the unnatural movement, sent a shiver right down my spine.

  This was so very, very wrong. This was not normal. I wanted to believe I was hallucinating, that the bang - or as the good doctor had said, no bang - to the head was to blame for what I thought I was seeing right now. But I am a practical person, I don't believe in out of body experiences. Just what my eyes tell me, that's all. It's always been a good philosophy to have. I wasn't so sure anymore.

  What my eyes saw was unnatural. What my eyes saw could not be explained away in practical terms. What my eyes saw scared me to death. I was different than I was before. I was more. And more made no sense. I felt a little like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, any moment now I'd wake up and this would all be a hazy dream.

  On that note, I decided to force my weary self to bed. I didn't have an answer to what was happening to me. There would be no miraculous explanation given this eve. And as I still had the shop to open tomorrow, getting sleep was my first priority. And despite bone-chilling, life-changing alterations to my make-up, despite Theo's strange threats, I would carry on. I certainly wasn't going to let a psycho stop me from living my life. And if Theo did turn up at the deli again, spouting off about someone potentially taking my head, well, I'd call the cops.

  But even as I climbed numbly between the sheets I knew that Theo, despite appearances, was tied up in what had happened to me. He understood it, or at least recognised what I had become. None of it made sense, all of it threatened to consume me with panic. But part of me acknowledged that if Theo did turn up with more deathly threats, I'd face him and not run.

  Because I needed answers to what had happened to me and for now, even though the doctor certainly proved there were more like Theo around, he was all I had. And he'd been... scared of me, threatened by my appearance. I saw it in those beautiful eyes of his, a wariness and shock that spoke volumes about the man. Whatever had blind-sided me, had absolutely thrown Theo Peters for a loop. And as bizarre as it sounded, despite the strange threats, a part of me still trusted Theo. Still believed he wanted to protect me and not do me any harm. Why else would he warn me of his Guard?

  So, he was my best bet, I think. Maybe together we could work this all out and return me to what I used to be.

  It was a loose thread to hang on to, but I was determined to cling to it for all I was worth.

  I slept fitfully, unsurprisingly, but every time I woke with nightmares of my time buried in the dirt, the trees outside would rustle, the sounds of tinkling soothing to my nerves. As though they sang a lullaby, I'd roll over and let their music lull me back to sleep. I must have woken a half dozen times throughout the night, but finally found a deep sleep at some early hour before my alarm went off.

  The dream coalesced around me; vibrant and alive, a real sense of this place I stood in existing. It was an unusual sensation. I knew I was asleep. I knew I was dreaming. But the dream was absolutely real.

  Despite the fact that my dead grandfather stood several feet away, running his fingers over the leaves of a Moreton Bay Fig Tree. The exposed roots making a striking pattern in the early evening sun. Reds and golds and crimsons and oranges filtered through the bending boughs of the tree, onto the dips and curves and ridges of the finger-like roots that crawled over the surface of the earth beneath his feet.

  He turned when I gasped, such a familiar and welcoming smile on his slightly aged face. My grandfather had been sixty when he'd died. Lost at sea while fishing one evening in his eleven foot dinghy. For some reason, he'd not been wearing his life-jacket, it had been discovered in his empty boat. A fact that I'd always found so hard to accept from a man who taught me everything I know about personal safety.

  I drank in his features, surprised at how well my mind had reconstructed his handsome face. Even if I found it hard to remember how he looked or sounded when I thought back on our times together, my dream mind hadn't forgotten a thing. At sixty, he'd looked fifteen years younger. He swore it was diet and exercise, something he instilled in my brother from an early age. Mark had followed Gramps around everywhere.

  His blond hair was flecked with patches of grey, his cheeks smoothed of stubble. His intelligent blue eyes searched mine, as his thick lips twitched into a grin. Amusement laced his features. Gramps had always been laughing about something, as though only he knew the joke that was life. Before he died, Mark had started laughing along with him. I'd always felt left out because of that. My brother knew what made my grandfather smile, but clearly Gramps had not felt that he could share the joke with me.

  "Gramps?" I heard myself say aloud.

  "Casey, sweetheart," he rumbled. So familiar. So grounding. So right. "It's about time you visited," he added, making me frown with confusion.

  I glanced around the space we were in. It was an empty field, just blades of grass swaying in a soft wind, and the Moreton Bay Fig Tree. I didn't recognise it, but I'd always been fascinated by trees, and the Moreton Bay had featured in my childhood discoveries. Not to mention in a book on fauna and flora my grandfather had gifted me when I turned sixteen.

  "Why are you here?" I asked at length.

  "Because it's started, sweetheart," he replied reasonably.

  "What's started?" I said, feeling my stomach contract with the certainty that this had something to do with the pit of dirt and the green that flashed in my eyes.

  "Your Awakening," he said softly. "How old are you now?" he asked suddenly. "Twenty-three?"

  I nodded.

  "Hmm," he mused. "I would have thought sooner," - he shrugged his shoulders then - "but we were never certain what would trigger it. What's happened, Casey? Are you safe?"

  Safe. Was I? I reached up distractedly to touch my neck where Theo had burned me, surprised to find the blisters gone. Had I dreamed that encounter? Was this reality and what happened with Theo the fantasy? I shook my head and stared at the ground for inspiration. The only answer it gave me was that my feet were bare and I was still dressed in my PJs.

  I glanced back up at my grandfather. Understanding etched soft lines on his face. I had the distinct impression that he understood more of what was going on than I did. Maybe than I ever would.

  "What's happening to me?" I demanded, vaguely aware I was interacting with the memory of a dead man and believing it was real.

  "What calling manifested first?" he asked, not answering my question at all.

  "What do you mean?"

  He turned slightly to look at the Moreton Bay and then flicked amused eyes back towards me.

  "You always did like trees. Even when you were so young. I'm not surprised it started with Earth."

  I felt my head shaking back and forth on my shoulders, confusion embedding itself deep inside my mind. What the freaking hell was all of this? As far as dreams went, this one was surreal. It felt like I was actually here, that my grandfather was alive standing before me. But the topic made absolutely no sense to me at all. Surreal.

  "Gramps," I started. "You're freaking
me out. Is this real?"

  "Of course it's real, sweetheart," he replied smoothly. "Can't you feel that it's real?"

  I looked around the field we stood in, listened to the leaves rustling on the tree, the swish of the grass as it swayed together. Felt the tickle of each blade as it caressed my ankles, the dwindling heat of the setting sun. Saw the vibrancy and realism in the colours of the sunset. Smelt the crisp green aroma of cut grass. So potent I could almost taste it.

  Dreams were never this real.

  I nodded back towards him.

  "Well then," he said with a chuckle, "that's the hard part over with. Now on to what's important right now."

  "Which is?"

  "Believe," he whispered. "Trust your instinct. If there is one thing I have taught you, remember this. Belief is a tangible thing, Casey. If there is a part of you that recognises the truth in a thing, believe in yourself. Trust that belief."

  Well hell. That didn't help much, did it?

  The dreamscape flickered slightly, Gramps wavered as though he was an image on an old cinema screen. A distant, incongruous sound echoed inside my mind. My grandfather took a step towards me.

  "We won't see each other until the next Awakening, Casey," he said urgently. "I thought we'd have more time."

  My head swung from side to side as I took in blurry distortions at various locations around the meadow. The Moreton Bay Fig seemed to shimmer slightly behind Gramps.

  "Sweetheart," he murmured, bringing my focus back to the man who had shown such patience with my inquisitive mind and constant questions when I was young. "When you wake up, remember that this is real. This is happening. You are special, Casey. Important to us all. Keep safe. Hone your skills and one day we will meet again."

  The pain at those impossible words tore through me, just as the dream was torn apart.

  I woke panting, sweating and in that moment, slightly delirious. My alarm blaring on the night-stand, matching the echoing sound from my dream mind. I felt exhausted, battered and bruised all over again. My body ached, my mind was sluggish and my heart was too weary by far.

  But that dream felt real. So real that I staggered out of bed and collapsed to my knees next to my bookshelf. My blurry gaze taking in the shapes and sizes and titles of the many books my grandfather had gifted me over the years. Weather Patterns And The Power Of The Wind. Coastal Beaches And The Turning Of Tides. Heat And The Properties Of Fire. Space And The Bending Of Time. Until my shaking fingers landed on Flora And Fauna Throughout The World.

  I sat stunned, looking at the spine on the book that I knew featured the Moreton Bay Fig Tree. It was just a dream. I knew that. But the certainty that it was also real, that I had just had a conversation with my dead grandfather, had me reaching out despite the knowledge that I'd just woken from a powerful fantasy, and grasping the book in a trembling hand.

  The pages fell open to the exact right one. The very same Moreton Bay Fig Tree in the middle of a meadow of waving grass stalks stared back at me from a two page picture spread.

  "Holy freaking hell," I muttered, running my fingertip over the exposed roots in the photo.

  "When you wake up, remember that this is real. This is happening."

  I stood up on shaking legs and walked in a zombie-like fashion to my dresser. I knew what would greet me, but still a part of me hoped I was wrong.

  Green. So vibrantly bright and mesmerising.

  Yes, my dead dream grandfather was right. This was real. This was happening.

  Fuck.

  But despite life changing realisations, I had responsibilities still. I may have wanted to stand in front of my mirror all day and reason - or not - through everything that was happening to me. But I couldn't. The shop wouldn't open by itself, and I was determined that Sonya should not have to go there again so soon after my two days forced absence.

  So, I made it into work before anyone else. I fired up the ovens and rolled out the pre-made dough. By the time Sonya made it in for prep, I was well ahead of schedule. I had a fire in my gut and ants in my pants. I couldn't stand still for long or thoughts of Theo's late night visit and confusing threats of his Guard taking my head would flash before my eyes. Compounded by the 'real' dream visit and conversation with dead-Gramps.

  I was becoming a freak and there was no stopping it now.

  Sonya knew something was up immediately.

  "So, still feeling weird?" she asked, while she placed tomatoes through the slicer.

  "What makes you say weird?" I replied, a little too abruptly.

  "Because missing two days and not remembering why is weird?" she said as though seeking assent.

  But I noticed, she didn't mention the obvious. The fact that I thought I saw Theo's eyes turn gold. She hadn't mentioned the doctor's eye colour change last night either, so I had to assume she hadn't seen it. And if not for the forty minutes in front of my mirror watching my own eyes change from blue to green and back, I would have begun to think I was seeing things. But there was no escaping that my eyes had changed colour. And therefore, I had seen Theo's and the doctor's turn gold, but Sonya did not.

  What did that mean? Logic told me that Sonya was different from me. Different from Theo and Doctor Peters.

  So what were we, if Sonya was normal?

  "And as for Theo, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that," she suggested, not waiting for my reply on why she thought I was weird. "He's probably just one of those moody and mysterious types of men. Gotta admit, it's a little sexy."

  Mysterious, yes, but the guy had burned my neck until it blistered by touch alone last night. Hardly a candidate for the Sexiest Man Alive title. I frowned at the dough I was kneading, remembering his mortified look when he saw the marks on my neck. Remembering his confusion and agony, all of which I felt as though it was mine. I didn't voice any of those thoughts aloud though. Theo hadn't made any sense last night, but one thing he had been was a little scary, would he hurt Sonya if she knew too much about what he was?

  "Theo Peters is a jerk," I announced suddenly, a knee jerk reaction to my fear for Sonya's life.

  "Well he did act a little bizarrely, but maybe you just freaked him out, that's all," Sonya offered.

  Oh, he'd been freaked out. The kind of freak out that said you-threaten-my-world-order.

  But then, he had said he still wanted to protect me in my driveway last night. Maybe the freak out was a little worried-for-my-wellbeing too.

  Confusion, thy name is Casey Eden.

  The conversation took a more 'normal' turn then, much to my relief. And before we knew it, the shop doors were open and customers began to arrive.

  The day progressed as any normal Friday did. No surprises, if you count the fact that Theo didn't turn up for his afternoon snack a foregone conclusion, everything followed its set path. As I locked up the store and stowed my keys in my jeans pocket, I almost believed it was all a dream. Almost. The plants whispering warnings of taking extra care as I passed them on the walk home made the veracity of the dream idea fail.

  I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. Everything was surreal. Everything was so wrong. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders as I placed my key in the lock of my apartment door. Sonya wanted to go out on the town and take my mind off unnatural goings-on, but I just couldn't face it. It was impossible to pretend everything was normal. I just couldn't fake it anymore.

  The only thought in my head as I let myself into my flat, was curling up on the couch, surrounded by my pot plants, and eating a tub of chocolate ice cream. It sounded like a solid plan.

  One step inside my door and I knew my plans were shot.

  The lounge room was destroyed. Cushions slashed and stuffing strewn all over the place, the couch tipped over, the TV shattered and in pieces on the floor. Letters and papers from my writing desk in the corner were haphazardly thrown about the floor, some scrunched up, some torn, most of it beyond repair. The kitchen looked about as bad as the rest of the place, glasses broke
n and shattered in piles on the linoleum, drawers pulled out and tipped upside down, spilling contents all over the floor.

  But none of that mattered. Not a single vandalised piece of my possessions mattered. Because every plant in the house had been yanked from their pot and stomped upon. Shredded leaves and snapped branches, trodden into piles of soil on the carpet. The flat was destroyed, but replaceable. The plants were gone for good.

  A sound so pained I didn't realise I'd made it slipped from my lips. Of all the things a burglar could do, harming my plants cut the deepest. But it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this wasn't an ordinary home invasion. Smeared across the cream walls in mud was a message.

  Leave the city, Gi and you might live.

  Stunned, I stared at the words for longer than reasonable. Was this written by the man who said he wanted to protect me?

  No. I didn't accept that. Theo could have killed me last night, but even the thought of taking my head had left him reeling. In agony, distraught, devastated. Had it only been an act?

  I wanted to believe Theo hadn't done this. Part of me said there was no way Theo could have done this. But I was so confused, so lost, so out of my depth here. Not only was I doing strange, unnatural, inexplicable things. Not only was I changing in ways that made absolutely no sense at all; green eyes, soothing plants, a connection I had never noticed between them and me. But I was also fighting to understand Theo.

  To understand this.

  Had Theo done this? Destroyed my flat, my possessions? My plants?

  If not him, who else? His Guard?

  Fear skittered along my spine and left icy pinpricks in its place.

  I was panting through the disbelief and pain. And without an answer, it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. But I couldn't be sure Theo hadn't done this. I couldn't rule out the possibility, even though his words of protection kept repeating in my mind. Faced with a threat similar to what he had given last night, I didn't have enough faith to believe.

  Belief is tangible, measurable. To truly believe is to encompass that which trusts. To truly believe you become one with the belief itself. Nothing short of irrefutable proof can break that promise.