Elemental

by Antony John

  “And what about you?” I asked. “What happened to you?”

  Rose blinked at last. “I don’t know. One moment I was in control, the next . . . it felt like my element controlled me.”

  Alice pulled back her right trouser leg. A gash ran across her knee and down the side of her lower leg. It was bleeding heavily.

  “Thank you for saving me,” said Rose.

  “You’re welcome,” Alice replied. But it was me she was looking at.

  * * *

  Alice carried four fish back to the shelter. She hobbled the whole way, while Rose stopped periodically to rest. My arms were laden with wood, so I couldn’t help either of them.

  Alice arranged the wood carefully and prepared to create fire. She had barely begun to rub her hands together before a sliver of yellow flame sliced through the air. Moments later, the kindling was ablaze. Two days before, I’d assumed she’d never conjure an open flame. Now she resembled the young girl in Griffin’s picture—confidently issuing flames like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

  So what had happened in the lighthouse? She’d barely managed a single errant spark there.

  “This is why the Guardians kept us away from Roanoke,” murmured Rose. “When we’re here, we can make our elements do unthinkable things. But our elements can make us do unthinkable things too.”

  Alice placed two fish end to end on the spit. We watched the fire growing, steam and smoke mingling as the water evaporated from the fish, and the oils in their skin seeped out.

  “Did it hurt, almost drowning?” I asked.

  Rose shook her head slightly. “No. I wanted it. The power I was feeling . . . it was awesome. I’ve never felt anything like it.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have let it happen, though. When I felt the element growing, I should’ve pulled back. I let it consume me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was angry at you. I wanted you to see how powerful I can be. I wanted you to know that we can all have secrets. Difference is, I choose to share mine.”

  She watched me, waited for me to tell her everything I knew. For a long moment, she didn’t even blink. Finally, she glanced over my shoulder at Alice as if she’d found her answer there.

  “You should get some sleep,” she told me.

  “So should you. You spent most of the night looking after Dennis. Go on. We’ll switch in a couple strikes. I promise.”

  Rose stood uneasily and made her way toward the steps. When she was out of sight, Alice leaned back from the fire.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She inspected the gash on her knee. “It’ll heal.”

  “Did you find anything interesting on the bridge?”

  A spark returned to her eyes. “Nothing at all. Not even the planks. No one can cross that bridge anymore.”

  “Where have the planks gone?”

  “By the looks of it, someone moved them.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. But the pirates have been watching that bridge for two days. So it must’ve happened before that.”

  My hand gravitated to the picture in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I looked at the woman with the cat at her heels. Perhaps the seer, my grandmother, had been even busier than we thought.

  “Will the pirates get another plank?”

  Alice thought about this. “I guess so. Why else would they retreat?”

  The clouds were thickening behind Hatteras. Twisting. Merging. Normally there would have been lightning and thunder by now. Rain too. I almost wished the storm had been in full effect already. To see such clouds without rain and lightning felt even more threatening.

  Griffin emerged from the shelter and joined us. Instinctively, I slid the picture back inside my pocket. Then I wished I hadn’t. Which secrets was I keeping, and from whom? Did I even know anymore?

  Griffin didn’t seem to notice. He clasped both journals to his chest, and strode confidently toward me, barely a hint of his usual limp. Even Alice must have noticed, because she left the fire and joined us.

  Look, he signed before he’d even sat down. The gesture was large, like he couldn’t hold it in.

  He opened the journal from our father’s dune box and flicked through until he found the picture of the girl with flames on her fingers. VIRGINIA. As before, I was struck by how old the yellowed pages looked, how strange the girl’s appearance. Dennis had unearthed many clothes in Skeleton Town, but none that looked like hers.

  On the reverse side of the page was the distinctive handwriting that filled the journal: tiny letters tied together with swirls and tails.

  Griffin tapped the page. Read.

  It told the story of a shipwreck in the channel connecting the sound to the ocean; presumably the Oregon Inlet. The turbulent water had claimed seven men. In spite of that, the writer had pressed on to Roanoke Island in search of his family. He was convinced they were there when he saw “a great smoke rise in the Ile Roanoke near—”

  There the story ended.

  I turned the page, but the words didn’t follow. It made no sense. I was about to ask Griffin for an explanation when he placed Alice’s open journal beside our father’s.

  I didn’t need to read the new page twice to realize it continued mid-sentence from my father’s page:

  “—the place where I left our Colony in the year 1587, which smoke put us in good hope that some of the Colony were there expecting my return out of England.”

  The pages had been mixed up—that much was clear. But why?

  Before I could ask, Griffin pointed to a passage farther down the new page:

  “. . . before we were half way between our ships and the shore we saw another great smoke to the Southwest . . . we therefore thought good to go to that second smoke first: but it was much further from the harbour where we landed, than we supposed it to be, so that we were very fore tired before we came to the smoke. But that which grieved us more was that when we came to the smoke, we found no man nor sign that any had been there lately—”

  I read the pages again, one after another. When I looked up, Alice was staring at me. A part of me still wanted to believe that the colony being referred to was Skeleton Town. But I knew it wasn’t.

  Whoever had written this had done so long before the foundations of Skeleton Town were laid.

  CHAPTER 30

  Griffin closed the journals. He was the keeper of something inexplicable but undoubtedly precious, and from the way he held the books, I could tell he knew it.

  Show. More, I signed.

  He shook his head. Not. Everything. He watched my blank expression and used a sign I hadn’t seen in months: Incomplete.

  “What’s he saying?” asked Alice.

  “He says it’s incomplete. There must still be pages missing.” I turned to Griffin. Where. Pages?

  Griffin pointed east, toward Hatteras. Dune. Box, he explained. Rose.

  “The remaining pages must have been inside Kyte’s dune box,” I told Alice. “But why would they split the book up in the first place?”

  “In case we ever found one of the dune boxes. Which means they really didn’t want us knowing this.” Alice used her sleeve to wipe away the blood streaming from her leg. “The Guardians sure do like their secrets, don’t they?”

  Griffin continued to stare into the distance. I guessed that he was thinking about the final dune box. Was it still there, lying on the beach? Had someone picked it up? Would it be washed away in the coming hurricane?

  Would the story he held so gently in his hands ever be complete again?

  That’s when I realized something else too: Griffin was embracing this new version of our past. More than that, he was determined to piece it together, step by painstaking step.

  I pulled the mysterious picture from my pocket and handed it to him. His eyes grew wid
e as he placed a finger beside our father’s head. Then he pointed to the woman with the cat wrapped around her feet.

  Our. Grandmother, I explained.

  Again, he seemed surprised rather than shocked. His eyes moved to the other woman—our mother. She was taller than the older woman, but the family resemblance was striking.

  I wished I’d shown him the portrait of our mother that I’d found. Now it would seem like I’d been keeping things from him too.

  Something else caught my eye then—something I hadn’t noticed before. There was a door behind my father, and beside it, a small rectangular object. From the look of it, it was metal. And though I couldn’t read the word that was written on it, I was fairly certain I already knew.

  Come, I signed.

  “Where are you going?” asked Alice.

  “To find our grandmother.”

  “Where?”

  I held up the picture. “In the clinic.”

  * * *

  The broken glass in the clinic door sparkled as the sun momentarily appeared behind us. Through it, I could see the imprint of my footsteps from previous visits.

  I signaled to the others to follow me, and we headed inside. “This is where Lora sent me the night she died.”

  Alice wore a quizzical expression. “What did she want here?”

  “A container. She called it ‘aspirin.’”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know. I never found it. She gave me precise directions, though.” I walked over to the shelves on the right. “It should’ve been right here on the second shelf.”

  “Well, it’s not. And that’s hardly your fault.”

  I nodded absently, but I was still looking at the shelf. It was covered in a thick layer of dust—several years’ worth, probably—except for one circle toward the middle. Something had been sitting there until very recently. But who would have taken the container? Who even knew I was looking for it?

  A seer perhaps? Someone who was happy to see Lora die?

  I tried to cast the thought aside. Toward the back of the clinic, Alice was searching inside every cupboard, under every table. Griffin was running his hands along the interior walls, his face a picture of concentration.

  “This is where I found the lantern,” I said. “Right there on that table.”

  “Do you think the seer wanted you to find something?”

  I glanced around. “It’s possible. But I don’t see anything obvious, do you?”

  This part of the clinic was mostly bare: bright white walls and filthy white floor. A single beam of sunlight filtered in, illuminating the particles of dust that spun in eddies around the room. Chairs were toppled over. A rickety ladder rested uneasily against a wall of shelves.

  Griffin clapped once, a sound that stopped us in our tracks. Once he had silence he pressed both palms against the wall and closed his eyes. It was the same preparation he had when he was about to use his element. But why now? Unless . . . was he trying to feel vibrations, a sign that we weren’t alone?

  He pursed his lips and huffed. When he turned to us and shook his head, I had my answer. On Roanoke his element was more sensitive than a Guardian’s, it seemed. Was there no end to the island’s mysteries?

  “I’m going outside,” said Alice. “See what’s on the roof.”

  I followed her. There was no point in searching inside anymore. There were no more cupboards to check, and nowhere else to hide. I was certain that the seer had been in the clinic at some point, but equally sure she wasn’t there now.

  Outside, Alice had kicked off her shoes. She ran her hands across the sheer stone wall, and dug her fingertips into gaps so tiny that I could barely make them out. Then, somehow, she began to climb.

  “How are you doing that?”

  She stared down at me. “My senses,” she answered quietly. “I can tell by touch if something will support my weight. And if I’m strong enough to climb.”

  As she said it, I felt a pang of jealousy. With every new talent she revealed, Alice went from having one weak element to being perhaps the most extraordinary of all of us.

  “Can I help?”

  “Yes. Keep Griffin away. If he sees me doing this, he’ll have all sorts of questions.”

  She continued to climb, fingertips uncovering tiny indentations, a single toe pressed into a crack too small for me to see. When she reached the roof, she pulled herself onto it.

  “Be careful,” I said. “You’re pretty high up.”

  “Hardly.”

  I peered through the broken glass. Griffin was still inside, running his palms along the wall; but higher up now, hands above his head. He was almost touching the ceiling.

  I looked back at Alice, at least five yards off the ground.

  Just like that, everything fell into place. “She’s not on the roof,” I shouted. “I know where she is.”

  I ran to the back of the clinic, placed my foot on the first rung of the ladder, and climbed to the ceiling. I prodded around for signs of movement. One of the ceiling tiles lifted. I eased it to the side and stood up straight so I could see what was in the space between the ceiling and the roof.

  It was dark, but I could still make out two yellow eyes. The animal hissed at me.

  Then I detected another figure.

  “You shouldn’t have come looking,” she said.

  CHAPTER 31

  The sound of her voice—deep and rich—shocked me. All I could think was that this was my grandmother. A woman who’d died when I was still an infant was not dead at all, but alive, and here in Skeleton Town.

  “Cat got your tongue?” She shuffled forward and stroked the creature beside her. It purred gratefully in reply. “Never mind,” she said, watching my confused expression. “It was a saying we used to have. In the old days.”

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark I took in the cramped space. Two cloth bags sat in a heap behind her. Even in the low light I could see that she was filthy.

  “I thought it was your brother who didn’t talk, not you.”

  “His name’s Griffin. Anyway, how do you know that?”

  “So he does speak!” She laughed without opening her mouth. “I’ve stayed hidden for thirteen years, and you’re surprised I know about your brother?”

  “Why are you hiding from us? Why did everyone tell me you were dead?”

  She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Those are good questions. But if we’re going to talk, I’d prefer not to stay cramped up here.”

  “I wasn’t the one who made you hide out.”

  “No, you weren’t. But neither was I, Thomas.”

  Hearing her say my name made me pause. Everything we’d taken for granted had gone; the things we knew had gone were inexplicably returning. The world had turned upside down, and somehow this woman—my grandmother—might know why. Suddenly her bedraggled appearance and overpowering odor filled me with sadness. How had she survived all these years?

  I climbed down the ladder. Alice and Griffin were waiting, but they neither spoke nor signed. To be honest, I’m not sure any of us knew what to make of the old woman who followed me, straggly gray hair to her waist, frayed clothes, and quick eyes squinting against the light.

  My mind filled with questions, but where should I begin? And what if her answers hurt me even more than the fact she’d been absent from our lives all those years?

  It was Alice who broke the silence. “The pirates say you’re an ally. So why aren’t you helping us?”

  The woman laughed, but it sounded strange, like she was out of practice. “Pirates, you say? I think they prefer to call themselves privateers. Though it means much the same thing, I suppose. Anyway, how do you know that?”

  “We overheard a conversation last night. Dare said we had an ally now.”

  She frowned. “Really?”


  “Are you an ally, or aren’t you?” I asked. I signed for Griffin too.

  She thought about this. “I’m here to reconcile you with your families. That’s all.”

  “Doesn’t seem that way,” snapped Alice. “You’ve been watching us ever since the pirates landed, haven’t you? You could’ve joined us.”

  “No. I don’t exist.”

  “Of course you exist. You’re here, with us.”

  “That’s not what your Guardians have been telling you for the past thirteen years, though. Right?” She smiled again, but it seemed angry. “Tell me: Exactly how did I die? Was it sudden sickness? Drowning? Lost at sea? Really, I’m intrigued.”

  “Lost at sea.”

  “Of course. Not very original, but hard to disprove. And you all believed it, which is the main thing. Because whatever happens, we must always trust the Guardians, mustn’t we?”

  She leaned against the ladder. Beneath the grime, I could see that she wasn’t so old after all; certainly younger than Guardian Lora.

  I caught up signing to Griffin. When I was done, his eyes remained fixed on me, as if he wasn’t comfortable looking at this woman. I could understand why. He’d been told she was dead. Now she was standing before him. Did anything make sense to him anymore?

  I pulled the picture from my pocket and turned it toward her.

  “Beautiful family.” She snorted. “Too bad it’s incomplete.”

  My breath caught. I couldn’t believe she’d talk about her own daughter like that.

  “I suppose this means you got all the way to the top of Bodie Lighthouse,” she continued. “You must’ve been even busier last night than I realized—braver than I gave you credit for too. What made you want to visit my humble home?”

  “Dare said it was important. He seems frightened of you. Is it because you’re a seer like him?”

  From above us, the cat let out another hiss. The woman responded by raising her arms. The animal obediently leaped into them.

  “I doubt it. Not all seers glimpse the future the same way.” She began stroking the cat. It nuzzled against her. “Many years ago, your Guardians claimed Dare had the ability to visualize his greatest future need. At the time, that need seemed to be me.”