Controlling the Elements

by N. R. Spratlin

  The brunette starts to giggle at me obviously excited by my sudden attention and then leans forward to show me her ample cleavage. I make sure to smile just enough while avoid looking at what she’s put on display. There is nothing she can offer which I would want.

  The one thing I love about this certain trick is that it involves my elemental connection and is one of the easiest ways for me to expand any energy I may have built up if I am working; so of course, I make a show out of it. I usually make a blowing gesture into my closed empty hand, hover it over the shots, and then ignite it with flames. It’s always a crowd pleaser, and an easy way to garnish tips when I am having a slow night.

  After I sit the bottle back into its holder, Connor starts chanting “oh shit” in my head before his walls slam into place. I turn around to look at him but stop short.

  What the hell?

  A sharp pressure pushes its way into every available space it can find within my head and body. I wince in pain and grab my head applying pressure to my temples with the heels of my palms. I close my eyes, taking deep breathes in and out to help with the pain, but it’s not helping. I bend down blindly for the cooler, sliding open the top and feeling the bottles inside. I crack an eye open making sure I got what I need. I unscrew the lid and gulp down the cold bottled water.

  After a few seconds it easies off a bit. I try to shake off the discomfort and lingering pain but get concerned over the tingles and searing heat that rushes through me.

  What the hell is happening?

  “Hey Bartender! Let’s get this show on the road!” Butt boy shouts and his buddies send their “yeahs” and “come ons” my way. Anger unlike anything I have ever felt infiltrates my element. My breathing becomes labored, sweat runs down my back, my skin flushed and fevered. I grind my teeth together, my eyes narrowing on the asshole who just keeps on and on.

  I need to burn him, maybe then he will show some respect.

  This is the first time I have legitimately felt anger boiling my blood and my body heat up so much that I feel like I’m in a sauna. Before I can comprehend anything, Connor shouts into our alliance.

  “ABORT MISSION” I snap my fingers and send a flame three times bigger than I usually can manifest at the shots and over the bar towards the thorn in my backside; the sharp edges of glass bursts over the women and prissy boys. The brunette and her friend let out a high-pitched screech scrambling away, the guys follow; heated alcohol drips down the bar, blue flames lighting the wood. I stare at it.

  “What the fuck?! Is that man’s hair on fire?!”An unfamiliar feminine voice shouts into the alliance. I jump, my head snaps up searching for the infiltration. I scan the crowd until I see a beautiful, sexy blonde woman gawking at me like a fish out of water. It takes another split second for me to realize that she’s not looking at me but rather towards the direction of… Frankie?

  “FLINT! FRANKIE!” Connor shouts out in a pitch so high that I have no doubt he is in full panic mode. He rushes across the bar towards us with the soda hose already pushing the button for water and trying to put out what I now realize was my anger induced inferno. I must be working on slow motion, because it takes me a minute to turn back towards Frankie and see his god-awful hair piece on fire. My eyes widen.

  “DER’MO!” I bellow out as I start channeling the inferno I created and slowing its intensity enough for Connor to come and pluck the hair off from Frankie’s head. All the while, Frankie, the Son of a bitch, hasn’t even realized what’s going on.

  Chyort voz’mi, how did I lose control like that?

  I have never felt such an intense burning in my veins before. I think back to when I first started to learn how to control my influence over fire. My father used to scold me a lot for not being able to hold the fire’s intensity for longer periods of time. I shake my head trying to clear it, pushing through the sick feeling I get in my stomach I often get when remembering his so called ‘punishments’, most of which have left their mark on me in some way physically. I don’t remember ever receiving one of his harsh punishments for influencing the element too much.

  “Not again,” Connor mumbles as he starts to wring out the hair piece. I sense him trying to figure out how to get it back on to Frankie without him noticing. It takes me a second to process what he just said.

  “What do you mean ‘not again’?” I bark out at him as he is now avoiding my gaze and abruptly turns his back away from the door, looking up, down, side to side, and down. I narrow my eyes, following Connor as he starts to run his hands through his hair, something I know he does when he is stressed. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the blonde woman zero her gaze on him, and then start stomping in our direction as if she is on a war path.

  You have got to be kidding me?! A woman’s voice shouts in my head so violently it’s as if someone has put a fire poker between my eyes and shoved it straight through my skull. I swear my brain should be is bleeding. I stumble backwards.

  “Hello?” I question to the intruder.

  “Dude, she can’t hear you,” Connor says out loud to me which stops me in my tracks.

  “Stall and block her from me please, she doesn’t need to see me here.” I frown but attempt to shuffle in front of him, I know it’s too late and honestly, I am kind of hesitant to be in that woman’s line of fire.

  Something about the intensity of her gaze and her determined stride although limping slightly makes me want to step back and steer clear of her. She stops and I am grateful the bar is between us.

  “What was coming to Lyon’s tee ball game not enough? Did Mr. Petrov send you here to spy on me as well? How did he know I was here? It’s the first time I’ve been out in months. Ly is happy with his babysitter so please don’t get any ideas. I thought I was an open and shut case.” She finishes on a huff and crosses her arms like a child who’s well on their way to a temper tantrum. I can tell she’s slightly drunk. I would have found it amusing had the pieces not started to try and click together.

  Tucker? Lion? Tee Ball? What do lions have to do with Tucker and tee ball? Maybe a mascot? Maybe Tucker decided to coach a little league and this is an angry sister? And how does she have the same colored eyes as Tucker?

  “I see you back there answer me!” The little vixen shouts over my shoulder. I cringe, sensing Connor’s shoulders stiffen and then deflate. He takes a step out from behind me and turns around unwillingly to face her. It’s when he sees the look in her eyes that he decides to return to his previous position behind me, even though he’s about four inches taller than me. I smirk.

  “Coward” I snicker to him, even though I am sure he can sense my own unease of being between them.

  “Dude, you have no idea the trouble and confusion this one has caused lately.” Connor quips back with a cryptic answer.

  “No, this is one of my roommates Flint”, he says. I wave two fingers in her direction trying to figure out how to get out of middle of this, “and this is his bar…”

  She instantly relaxes and the tension in my body leaves as well.

  Thank heaven for that. She says through the link.

  “Connor this is freaking me out, you need to clue me in like….NOW!” He visibly pales but answers in his calming way.

  “You need to tread careful waters bro, crazy shit has happened when she’s around.” I glance at the female and see her readjusting her dress as if she is gathering herself again.

  I am going crazy. She thinks. I snort out a laugh and automatically regret it.

  “For fucks sake Flint! I said to tread carefully.” Connor starts to freak.

  “Do you have a problem?” her voice drops and I can feel static scattering in the air. It starts building so much charge that I am afraid if I move a single muscle in my body I will be shocked in some way. I look down and see not only the hairs on my arms have raised, but I also notice the hairs on Connor’s are standing up too.

  “Uh, no?” I question.

  “Now if we could calm down for a min,” Connor starts as I
cringe.

  Well, so much for treading carefully.

  “Calm down? You want me to calm down?” she says in that scary voice all women reserve for when they want to castrate your manhood and swing it around like a tomahawk.

  “O, yebat’. Connor really?” I groan at him through the alliance.

  “Dude I freaked it slipped! Ah, she looks scary now!” He starts tensing up again.

  “Fix it!” I demand. He takes a deep breath in preparation.

  “No, I just think we all need to gather ourselves and try and think….”

  Connor is yet again cut off when the feisty female shouts “THIS IS ME FUCKING CALM!”

  All of a sudden, it‘s as if the static in room has reached a peak level.

  I stare past Miss Angry, blinking a few times to makes sure I’m seeing what I think I am. There’s electricity filtering from an inch off her body, static is catapulting into the air, and come towards…. Us?

  “Oh crap, hit the deck Flint!” Connor shouts as he grabs me and drags me down. As soon as we hit the floor a pressure so great flows over us. Connor pulls us away from the metal floor rails running underneath the bar to avoid getting zapped from the currents running through them. I look to him seeing his long hair standing on end. If I wasn’t a little confused and freaked out right now it would have been the perfect time to laugh at him about it.

  As we watch we are able to physically see electricity shoot straight to the top of the liquor shelves. I grit my teeth.

  Do not do it! Do not do it!!

  Connor jumps, as bottles of my expensive liquor shatter upon impact all at once. Alcohol and sharp bits spray down on us.

  My best fucking whisky! It will cost a fortune to replace all of that! Da propadi ono propodom!

  Of course, the alcohol blowing up stirs a mass of hysteria to the drunken patrons nearby who all start screaming. The loudest is the dipshit, he can scream quite high. Go figure.

  “Damn it all, what?” Connor shouts over the noise, catching the last part of my thought. I growl.

  “My best liquor that is what is up!” He puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry man.” I nod but shake of his hand, feeling slightly calmer. Even when he isn’t trying his calming element always seeps through.

  Pressure builds up even more in room. Feeling as if we are in thick syrup, I try to move but my limbs feel weighed down. A headache starts to reappear. Connor mutters something under his breath I can’t quite catch.

  Oh no nononono, not again!

  The feisty females’ voice echoes inside my head, her panic and electricity flows over not just me but Connor too, as if trying to reach out wanting to leach onto us and gather some extra strength.

  How is this happening?

  “Dude we need to get out of here before something else happens,” Connor insists, but, it’s too late.

  BOOM!

  Bulbs shatter putting us in almost darkness. The cooler stops running, the TV in the corner goes dark, the music is cut off. The speakers begin to crackle. Then suddenly they emanate this god awful high pitch noise. We cover our ears before they too succumb to the pressure and blow out. A pungent smell reaches my nose of burnt out electrical wires.

  Every single thing that runs on electricity blows, stops working, or is on a frenzy. The syrupy feeling dissipates with the release of energy.

  Connor and I slowly stand up, moving away from the safety of the bar. We cover ourselves to the best of our ability with our arms over our heads. Not like it will do much. Shards come falling down scratch and dig in our clothes. I grunt.

  We squint and start to survey the pub. Live wires hang from the ceilings and on walls, dancing like snakes as electricity leaks out of them. People studiously try to avoid them and anything wet. In the corner of my eye I see glowing light. I turn towards it and pause. The karaoke machine has caught on fire, flames vastly growing. A large smile makes it to my face.

  Farewell pain of my existence, for I will never have to see you again.

  People start to push at each other forcefully trying to get to the exits; shoving each other down and accidently tripping others up. I jump out of their way. Unfortunately for Frankie’s busty blonde, she was one of those who had been tripped up. She splayed across the floor. Her tiny excuse for a top has dropped to her waist exposing her very large breasts. She tries covering her chest with her hand while picking herself up off the ground.

  Once she stumbles up and out of the bar I take a better look around. Now that people are thinning out I can see more of the damage and I’m heartbroken. My establishment is starting to crumble.

  How is this happening?

  I notice, and run just in time to forcefully shove the trouble making female out of the way into a toppled chair. A light shield from the ceiling hits the floor with such force that the glass, rubble, and other debris on the ground lifts up and scatters around. I grunt as something cuts into my leg. I look down to see a bit of a broken light bulb sticking out. Looking back to the female, her face is pale, eyes wide but showing gratitude, holding onto a chair leg with a death grip. She looks down to my leg, swallows thickly then rushes towards me stepping over the light shield and debris.

  “Oh My God! Are you okay? You saved me. Thank you!”

  “I am fine. Please just leave for your safety.”

  “Are you sure?” I nod, turning so my back is to her casting a forlorn look around my bar, my shoulders slump. I hear her whisper something like ‘I am so sorry.’ I frown, but when I turn back around she’s already made it to the exit and is just slipping out the door.

  My bar, It’s a mass of destruction. It is ruined. My breathing becomes rapid as I study the mess.

  It will cost a fortune to fix!

  At least one light looks to be intact, well more intact than others as it precariously swings from the ceiling, backwards and forwards casting shadows in its wake. I snap out of my horrified state noticing Connor and I are the only ones left. Scratch that, Connor, Frankie, and myself. Frankie is passed out on his stool snoring softly. I guess I missed it when Connor put his hair piece back on, but I am thankful that did he get it on him. The hair piece is skewed enough; it has caught the brunt of the glass, keeping Frankie’s face from most of the harm.

  About five minutes too late, the fire sensors pick up that there is indeed a fire and the karaoke is burnt to death. The sprinklers burst on. The pouring down overhead causes the last light to blow, leaving the two of us soaked, and in complete darkness.

  “You need to explain now Connor.” I say in the calmest voice I can manage while grinding my teeth.

  At this rate, I will have no teeth left.

  He sighs loudly, defeated. He begins to fidget with his clothes making wet squelching noises as he moves. “Just let me call Tucker and get the guys here first. We are going to need some help”

  I can only grunt a response of agreement as I fiddle under the bar for my emergency flashlight.

  What is going on?

  I can barely think as try and pull myself together and keep myself controlled. Anger has resumed its place in my mind coursing through in a magnetized way. I focus on the fire of the karaoke machine, and pull the energy away from it, watching it slowly fizzle itself out.

  “We don’t fully know, but we are trying to find out” Connor replies with his cell phone to his ear. “Uh yeah Tucker, we have had another incident and Flint is hurt.”

  Incident? Hurt?

  I follow Connors gaze to find a trail of blood running from my leg to a watery puddle of blood on the floor, the glass still stuck. Luckily, it isn’t anything I can’t handle.

  Great now it’s starting to hurt.

  “Yeah, I will try, but you need to get everyone to Flint’s ASAP.” My stomach drops with the sense of dread. Something is happening, and it is something I have a feeling will possibly alter our lives. My headache kicks to full blown migraine as I try to calm the thousands of thoughts running through my head on warp speed. All I can do is
stare unblinking around the bar at the destruction of what just happened.

  I should have never brought karaoke back to my bar. Poblagodarit’yamy adait is now gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I know what’s waiting for me, judgmental eyes in the form of his happiness” – Zephyr

  Zephyr

  I could tell from the tone in which Flint was barking at me that something had happened. In the remnants of my last drunken stupor, the only phrase I could make out was “stinky ass downstairs,” blank, “ten minutes.” I wanted to laugh at him before he got off the phone. Hell, I may have even done it because he really does remind me of a very vocal grumbling Rottweiler, especially since when he is in one of his moods his accent seems to leak through even more. I toss my phone back on my bed, and groan. I really don’t want to wake up, so I grab my top pillow, and then cover my face entirely with it while I roll over on my side in hopes of keeping what dwindling light that is leaking through my blackout curtains away. I have adapted this little routine into my mornings, knowing if I don’t; it will wind up enhancing my already throbbing headache.

  What feels like seconds later, after trying to ignore the banging in my head, I realize that the headache is here to stay, and will prevent me from getting a few more minutes of sleep. I grumble as I roll over and slide my palm along the top of my bed in search of the cursed device to check the time. After a few passes, and slapping my hand on something sticky I wish not to think about, I finally find it and grab it carefully. Thankful I did, since it was precariously teetering on the edge of my bed. I snatch it up, and push the pillow away, blinking a few times as my eyes accommodate to the now slightly lighter room. I bring the phone up to eye level and push the home button; automatically cursing as the auto screen brightness glares at me. After rubbing my eyes, I then squint looking back at the screen, it has been seven minutes since he called; I guess I did drift off for just a tiny amount. I run my hand down my face noticing that my once five o’clock stubble has practically grown into a beard.