by S. L. Horne
“A man has needs,” he says with a shrug. “You were never meant to be born, you weren’t supposed to make it to term. But if by chance you did, you were meant to be gotten rid of. I always made sure of that.”
The thought of her father forcing himself on her mother causes bile to make its way up her throat. She fights it down, the memory of what happened to her creeping to the tip of her mind.
“There were others?” she screams at him, fighting to get around Denton.
His maniacal laughter enhanced the genuine cheer in his face. “Others? Oh, you ignorant fool. So many I’ve lost count, not that I was trying to keep track in the first place. We live for so long, and I’m focused on the long term. No Omni mutt is going to get in my way. Besides, most of them didn’t make it to term to begin with, making my job easier. The few that got close enough, I made sure didn’t last through labor. With modern advances though, it was harder to exterminate you without causing concern. Honestly, I was a little shocked she could still conceive at that point.”
“You bastard!” Elara jumps toward him, pushing Denton aside and leaping across the turned soil. Her forward motion comes to a halt, however, when something rustles in the tall corn stalks.
Two men break into the clearing. Her father glances over and smiles. “Get them!” he orders pointing to Elara and Denton. “Kill them both if you must!”
Elara’s eyes widen in horror. Denton grabs her hand, and they both turn to flee for cover into the field of yellow. Sounds of stomping feet and heavy breathing clip at their backsides as she spots an old abandoned circus stadium looming in the dark nearby.
The building creaks in the wind, threatening to collapse under its own weight already.
Having separated during their sprint through the cornfield, Elara looks back to ensure Denton is close behind.
“Over here!” he yells, passing her on her other side. He climbs through a shattered window, knocking away a shard with his foot to allow her to follow without injury. He yanks her up by her hand, dragging her inside behind him. The ceiling of the building is high, the framework aluminum and swaying gently with the wind. The joints are rusted, and most of the glass has been vandalized, either cracked or missing altogether. The stadium originally erected with a tent cover over the center arena is torn and hanging down in parts. Metal bleachers line the walls, tall and empty. Denton points to an open door across the vast arena and once again pulls her along.
Loud clanking reverberates around them, violating their ears, and glass shards fall from all around. Covering their head with their arms, they continue to run.
They hear shouting coming from outside as the three men rattle the walls compromising the structure and literally pulling down the building around their victims. With horror, Elara looks up to see the thin framework starting to crumble, shrieking metal bending and snapping. Running faster than she ever thought possible, the distance shows no mercy.
The remaining fabric stretched from the beams on the ceiling catch air, slowing the building’s descent. “Take cover, in here!” Denton yells as he dives into the bleachers and lays down as flat as possible under a seat.
She follows his lead as the tarp and framework, glass and light fixtures land heavy on the bleachers. The weight of the debris presses hard on their backs, and terror rushes in to fill the gaps. They squirm, trying to get free as more terrible sounds and the bleachers themselves buckle and give way. The ground comes up to meet them, fast, faster, too fast and the building collapses completely.
Chapter 23
Elara opens her eyes, surprised she’s still alive. Is she still alive? She feels around for Denton and wonders, is he alive? Her thought is met quickly with a coughing sound a few feet away. “Dent—” She tries to call for him but sets into a coughing fit herself.
The rubble and dust continue to settle around them
Footsteps tromp on nearby debris. “Pull them out, you fools!” Her father’s voice bellows at their survival. The men pull away bits of the building, digging to get to them.
Fingers clasp gently around Elara’s, and Denton pushes aside a bit of fabric to look her in the eyes. “Shh. I think we can get out from under this set of stands from over here. They didn’t fall in like these. I can see light over there.” He points at a small opening. She crawls forward a foot and halts. She’s pinned by something on her back and pain shoots over her ribs. Her breathing grows shallow, and she reaches for Denton.
“I’m—” Panting and unable to take in a full lung of air she struggles to get the words out. “—pinned.”
Denton looks around but nothing of use reveals itself, so he wraps his hands around the bleacher seat holding her down. Lifting with all his might, it budges only an inch, just enough for Elara to take in more air, but not enough to get free.
“Can you travel?” He bends down to put his forehead to hers. The men getting closer by the second.
“Maybe?” Denton interlocks both of his hands with hers. Light rushes in, blinding them both as the final piece of rubble is removed from atop them. Her father looks down at her, disgust deep in his face.
“Do it now, Elara!” Denton does not look up at the man, showing his full trust in her abilities.
“Stop!” Thyone holds up his hand and soothsays out of instinct. Forcing his ability on her, he realizes his mistake too late. Elara stops, but only for a second before she feels a jolt of power and electricity flow through her.
Thyone is suddenly unable to move in any direction, his own order turned back against him by her ability to deflect magic made with harmful intent. Fear for the first time shows in his eyes, his smirk gone and worry seeming to overwhelm his body. Realization appears to strike all of them at the same time.
Thyone’s pride is stronger than his concern for himself, and he asserts more power into his words. Arrogantly thinking his ability is stronger than that of Elara’s, he blurts out, “Go to hell, Bitch. Kill yourself!”
Denton tightens his grip on her hands as she reaches up to close her fingers around her own neck. The moment does not last long enough, and the words are reflected in instruction at Thyone. His eyes widen as his own hands act without his consent. Pulling his knife from its sheath, its sharp blade glistens in the light as he moves it away from his body and jabs it into his chest. Blood stains his shirt, and his mouth opens in a gasp. He chokes for air and blood sprays from his lungs. No one moves to intervene.
The electricity in the air can be felt shifting from Thyone to Elara. The energy is undesired but strong and forceful. She’s bombarded with a sense of power coming from him. His cheeks sink in rapidly, his eyes growing deep wrinkles around them and his skin dehydrates as they watch. All the years her father has lived rip away from him. Gasping for air like a fish out of water, the knife in his chest clatters to fall among the debris.
“What have you done?” Denton screams at him, anger flaring hot in his eyes. “You bastard!”
Elara gapes in horror as her father crumbles into ash before her eyes, and as each piece of him falls away, she feels new power build up inside her. Her body responds with greed, and an innate knowledge of change overcomes her senses. Her new abilities run through her blood, foreign and yet familiar. A strong desire for water tingles in her mind, and she does not move, unsure what to do. Denton’s face is distraught, and he screams obscenities at the already gone man.
“Do you know what this means?” His voice is hoarse and strained, his breath catching. Elara shakes her head in slow motion, no words forming. Her eyes unblinking and questioning. “I’m so, so sorry, Elara. I’m so sorry.” He holds her head to his chest. “He should have known better, he did know better, and still I don’t understand why he would do this. Are you alright?”
“No. No, I’m not.” She still does not blink, looking at the pile of ashes blowing away where her father just stood. “What just happened?”
“He used his powers on you. A Nix’s command is their ability. When someone uses their powers on an Omni, the Omn
i takes those powers away by how much is used. He used the ultimate command and died because of it, all of his power was used, which means all of it was transferred. It means those abilities now belong to you. Elara, you are now the most powerful Siren alive. That man…” Denton hesitates, “Your father was Titan’s only living son.”
Before she can continue to process his words, she puts her hands around his that still cradle her head and instructs him to hold his breath. The disaster still settling around them falls away, the pressure on her back relieved. The thick dusty air is replaced by cold fresh water. Denton releases Elara’s hands and begins to kick his feet, paddling frantically to the top. The surface of the water breaks as he comes up for air, startling nearby trees.
“Oh, don’t do that to me!” a particularly knotted tree exclaims frowning down at them.
“You could have given me a shed!”
As Denton swims to the edge of the basin, Elara makes her way slowly to the top. She breaks through the surface of the water as well, but reluctantly, and she doesn’t gasp for air as he had. They wade out, sopping wet and still processing what just happened.
Ringing out her hair and clothes, Elara apologizes. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I really am, but we had to get out of there. Also, what is a shed?” The water continues to pour out of Elara’s caftan, no matter how much she wrings out the fabric.
“Dear, oh, dear, oh dear! A shed, Young Lady, is when a tree loses all of their leaves. It’s an awful thing, it really is. You need to dry up, you can’t risk catching a cold while carrying that precious baby!” The tree brushes her branches along the ground and gathers fallen old leaves around her to help sop of the water.
“Baby?” Denton looks at the tree, genuine confusion written all over his face.
“Yes, I did not stutter. I haven’t done that in centuries, not since I was a young sprout, mind you.” The tree continues to dote on and prod Elara. “Twins, actually.” A smile not unlike that of any grandmother spreads on her trunk.
“Me? Oh, no no. You must be mistaken.” Elara shakes her head in protest, trying to climb out of the ever-growing pile of leaves.
“Not mistaken, Young Lady. Us trees are the children of Mother Nature. It means we are the connection between everything, and being with child is a gift of our mother. I would know, in fact, you ask anyone of us. You are not far along at all, freshly conceived. Congratulations!” The tree showers more leaves down on her, the pile almost head height now. “Come, Dear, we must make you comfortable.
Denton and Elara stand shocked and baffled as their old friend meanders his way over to them, a familiar face in the chaos. “Welcome back. I am happy to see you both safe and well,” Oidea exclaims as he finishes settling his roots down once more and waits contently for them to continue their conversation.
“You must be joking.” Elara looks between the two trees. “This is some elaborate joke?”
“Joke?” Oidea asks. “No, most definitely not. She does not lie; we are the connection between everything. It is quite obvious you are carrying, to us trees at least.” He pauses. “Well, I also know this because you have been here before. Technically speaking, you were here after, if you are thinking of time as lateral. So, with certainty, I can even say you are carrying two boys.”
Elara and Denton stand gaping, mouths wide as the female tree continues. “Oh, yes, that is right. I was here as well. Sweet boys! What were their names again?” She looks over at Oidea for an answer.
“Ah, yes, well-mannered boys indeed. Their names were…” He pauses a moment. “That’s right, Caspian and Erasmus.”
