Quintessence (Statera Saga Book 2)

by Amy Marie

  Another eye.

  I automatically turn back to Thamish’s thoughtful gaze.

  “Did you dream of the birds in meditation again?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he replies. “They were leading me somewhere. I could feel the wind on their wings. The air was speaking to me.”

  “What did it say?” I ask.

  “The wind had many words. It would not tell me how to find the soul. But it said I would know because the soul of air can fly.”

  “Fly? By what magic?” I ask.

  “I am not certain. But the soul must certainly have wings,” he says.

  The thought seems impossible in my mind. “Do the Vedas speak of such winged ones?”

  Before Thamish can respond, there’s a loud crash outside the wooden doors of the shrine. Men shout in alarm from the other side.

  Thamish gathers me in his arms. “Stay here,” he commands.

  He opens the door to smoke and flames. He turns around to signal me to follow him to escape the blaze, but the look on his face is frozen in terror. I have no time to sense the hooded figure behind me. All I see is the golden dagger move in front of me as it makes a cold cut across my throat.

  I sit up grasping my neck where the dagger would have sliced.

  The scream carries over from my dream, echoing through the first-class cabin.

  “My dear, are you alright?” Uncle Mike asks from across the aisle.

  I catch my breath. “Yes. Sorry. Just a nightmare.”

  The flight attendant comes to check on me. Her nametag is at my eye level again, and I notice the wings on each side.

  “We’ll be landing in about twenty minutes,” she says to calm my nerves, pouring me more ginger ale.

  “Thank you,” I say before sipping my drink.

  As we go through the routine of landing, I struggle my way through another moment of panic until we’re safe on the ground.

  The plane pulls up to the terminal and we’re herded off. I look for the flight attendant who helped me, hoping to thank her. She’s nowhere to be seen as we exit the aircraft.

  Selma and Eddie Goodwin are waiting at the baggage claim for us with big smiles and open arms.

  My family.

  Selma was clearly a dark beauty at one point in her life. Her features are similar to her daughter’s, but she has aged gracefully. Eddie is tall and intimidating with a perma-scowl. The only things that can warm him up are the three women surrounding him now. He gives us tight bear hugs in greeting.

  Uncle Mike is emotional at being reunited with his niece. “It’s been too long, my dear,” he says. “You’re the spitting image of your mother.”

  “Oh, Uncle Mike, it’s so nice the girls could finally rope you into coming to visit,” Selma says in affection.

  We gather our luggage and head out of the terminal. I notice an older gentleman following us at a distance, and Uncle Mike nods to him.

  “Your parents have been carefully watched for their protection,” Uncle Mike whispers to me. “But I figured Gregory can take a break while we are here.”

  Back at home, I walk into my old bedroom to unload my bags. I soak in the nostalgia. Old pictures of handsome celebrities line the wall. Most of them have dark hair and features, similar to Darcy. Did some part of me know back then?

  I smile at old pictures and drawings from my childhood.

  Char knocks on my door.

  “I just talked to Rafe. They’re all packed and ready to go at sunset. They’ll update us at each state line. Everything okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Just looking around. I guess I’m searching for something, maybe a clue that I knew what I was all along,” I shrug.

  “Well, if I knew how important you were, or that you had superpowers, I definitely never would’ve fought with you,” Char jokes. “It’s nice to be home. Hopefully it makes you remember that even though you’ve discovered everything about yourself, you’re still just a part of our family too,” she smiles.

  I walk over and hug her. “You’re the best.”

  “Well, duh,” she says to lighten the mood, and we both laugh.

  “Come on, we’ve got to find a way to set up the element safeguard here,” I say, pulling her out of my room.

  Later that evening, we sit in the living room eating pizza, talking about college and our new lives in Boston. As much as we can share with our parents, at least.

  “It was great of you to give the girls jobs and arrange some cheaper housing,” Eddie says to Uncle Mike.

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” Uncle Mike says, comfortable in his chair by the fire.

  Char and I sit near the windows, where we’ve opened them just a crack to let fresh air flow in.

  “And thank you again, girls, for the flowers and fountain. Such thoughtful gifts. And they look great in here,” says Selma pointing to the orchids and wall fountain we’ve placed strategically in the room.

  “We just missed you guys!” says Char, moving over to plant herself in the crook of Eddie’s arm.

  “And what about this friend of Nora’s?” asks Selma. She turns to me. “I couldn’t believe it when Char told me you were bringing someone home! You’ve always been so… picky.”

  “Darcy is the perfect match for Nora,” says Uncle Mike. “You’ll see when they get here.”

  “He’s older,” Char adds with hidden humor. “And perfectly serious. He scowls a lot, just like dad.”

  “How much older?” Eddie glowers.

  “Is there any more pizza?” I pop up from my seat, hasty to avoid that question.

  Char laughs a little too hard, and the conversation turns to our weekend plans.

  My phone shows zero updates from Darcy. I haven’t heard from them since they entered New York. They should be reaching Pennsylvania soon. With such a long way for them to drive tonight, I doubt I’ll get much sleep.

  Char puts on a movie and while we all sit and watch, my mind keeps wandering to my dream and for some reason, the flight attendant.

  Aria was her name, which I know has something to do with music. But I keep picturing her name on her tag, with the wings on each side.

  The statement from my dream: The soul must certainly have wings, keeps coming to mind. It repeats over and over in my head.

  On a whim, I sneak out my phone and look up the meaning of the name Aria. The first entry that pops up:

  Italian for "air." In music, an aria is typically a solo in an opera.

  My gasp draws attention from everyone.

  “Is everything okay, my dear?” Uncle Mike asks.

  “Y-Yes,” I stammer. “I think I may have just found that file we were looking for.” I say to him with meaning.

  “Oh?” he asks, intrigued.

  “Working on vacation? You’re a slave-driver, Mike,” Eddie says. “Well, we can finish this movie tomorrow. I have to work early in the morning, so I’m off to bed.”

  Eddie and Selma say their goodnights and retire for the evening.

  Char turns off the movie and moves to my side. “What did you find?”

  “It might be the air elemental. I’m not sure, but I think it was our flight attendant.”

  “What makes you say that?” Uncle Mike asks.

  “Her name was Aria. I didn’t recognize the meaning. I thought it had to do with music, you know? But in Italian, it means–”

  “Air,” Uncle Mike interrupts. “Yes, indeed it does!”

  “But I thought we were looking for a pilot,” Char says, confused.

  “I thought so too. But I must’ve been wrong.” I move my hands while I’m talking, trying to weave an explanation out of the air. “Maybe we took the dream too literally. Maybe it just needed to be someone who travels in the air?”

  I go on to tell them my dream on the plane, and the connection to her nametag with wings. We sit in silence for a moment trying to make sense of it all.

  Could this Aria really be the air soul?

  The television interrupts our thoughts with a breaking ne
ws broadcast.

  “Heavy rain storms relentlessly pound their way across the country and more are on their way. But first, breaking news of a local girl’s body found by the river this evening.” The news woman’s voice catches my attention. The ghost of a breeze tickles the back of my neck.

  Not good.

  I grab the remote and turn up the volume on the television.

  “A developing story, police are on the scene where a local jogger was running along the banks of the Scioto River this evening, and stumbled upon the body of a young woman who appeared to have drowned in the water.”

  I step closer to the television. A sense of foreboding is screaming at me.

  “The victim was able to be quickly identified as she was found in her work uniform. The police are calling it a homicide due to several forceful marks on her body. Twenty-six-year-old Aria Guthrie, a local flight attendant, has been identified as the victim. Co-workers say they saw her at work just this morning…” the newscast trails on, but my drumming ears block out all noise. The screen flashes with a smiling picture of the young girl who poured my ginger ale earlier today.

  Aria. Alive just this morning. She must’ve been found by the destructor.

  The air elemental is dead.

  Chapter 17

  She’s dead because of me.

  We must all be thinking it. They don’t want to say it. It’s just like the tribe.

  Guilt thickens the air around me, making it difficult to breath.

  “No, this can’t be,” Uncle Mike begins pacing.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t her,” says Char shaking her head. “That poor girl.”

  I just sit in silence staring at the television. Did she even know why she was being killed? Did she see the destructor’s empty eyes, or his black cloak before she breathed her last breath?

  My stomach turns at the thought.

  “What does this mean for us?” Char asks Uncle Mike.

  “If the air elemental has indeed been killed, then I suppose we must wait until a new one is born,” he shrugs.

  “That’ll be too late,” I say. “The balance is shifting. Talbot warned me,” my head shakes back and forth, unable to face this reality.

  My eyes stare at the newscast on the TV and go out of focus. Even here in Ohio, stories of hate, violence, murder and destruction fill the evening broadcast. Tears fill my eyes. We can’t fail this mission now. There has to be another way.

  “How did the destructor even know where we are, let alone find Aria?” Char asks, breaking the silence.

  A good question. Being only able to travel by night, it’s impossible to think of Talbot catching up with us and killing Aria all in the course of one day.

  “Maybe he found her first. If he knew we were coming here, he could’ve been waiting here. We could have forced his hand.” I swallow a big lump of guilt in my throat.

  My fault.

  “Make no mistake, he has been watching our every move. It’s difficult to imagine how he knew so quickly, though,” Uncle Mike gets a worried look on his face and begins to pace again.

  The moments I shared with Aria play in my head, over and over again. I feel like I’m missing something.

  “Maybe Lilly will know what to do,” I pull out my phone to text her.

  “Nora, no,” Char puts her hand on my arm to stop me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s just… Lilly is the only other one who knew we were looking for the air soul. What if she told the destructor where to find us?” Char asks.

  “Lilly didn’t know we were coming to Ohio,” I say. “I never told her.”

  “But she knew you were going after the next elemental soul. What if Lilly knew where she was? What if she helped Talbot find Aria first?”

  I look to Uncle Mike for support, but his eyes cast down. “I fear it could be a possibility, Eleanor.”

  My head shakes in automatic denial, ready to argue.

  To ease the building tension, Uncle Mike stops me. “For now, let’s just get some rest and pray the boys get here safely. We can figure out what to do next tomorrow when we’re all together.”

  I nod my head in agreement and say my goodnights, heading up to my old bedroom. My phone buzzes with a text from Darcy, informing me they made it to Pennsylvania. I text him back a goodnight message. I don’t want to burden him with the news of the air elemental. I rub my hands over my eyes to ease the pain. Giving up, I close them for the night.

  I’m in a room full of idols.

  The silence is ancient. The energy, infinite.

  Every deity throughout history glares stone-faced at me. Their eyes stare fixed on me, waiting for me to find their souls.

  Suddenly their whispers echo around me in a song, weaving the web of my fate.

  I close my eyes and listen. My ears catch the sound of the sea first.

  Water…

  All the gods and goddesses that represent any form of water sing a siren’s song of triumph to me. Tefnut, Yam, Poseidon, Varuna, Pariacaca, Sedna, Watatsumi, Amathaunta, Njord, and Neptune, all the men and women of ancient lore and even some figures I don’t recognize. They rejoice and bless me with their approval: I have found their soul.

  Next I feel the ground tremble. The souls of the earth demand my attention.

  Earth…

  Statues of gods and goddesses that represent earth: Coatlicue, Geb, Prithvi, Emesh, Enten, Rūaumoko, Tudigong, and Volos, along with many others, all whisper songs of harvest and promise in my ear. Diligence will pay off. It’s almost time.

  A dance of heat burns my cheeks next. I turn to the fire spirits.

  Fire…

  Alaz, Adranos, Agni, Kagu-tsuchi, Tatewari, Logi, Zhurong, and Vulcan, amongst many other fiery gods’ statues smolder me with their gaze. These statues’ whispers burn the air around me, but elusively never reach my ears. Fire is the most unpredictable of elements. A necessity of life, but capable of great damage.

  The heat grows stronger and just before I am burned, a cool gust saves me. Refreshed, I turn my attention to the souls of air.

  Air…

  These are the statues I need to talk to. These gods can tell me what happened to their soul, and what to do next. Nut, Shu, Anshar, Nuada, Tinia, Dyaus, Torngarsuk, Virococha, Atahensic, Rangi, as well as many others give me an airy look from their lofty busts.

  Maybe it won’t be that easy.

  “Help me,” I say to them, but the statues sit frozen. They are statues after all.

  There’s one statue, turned over and broken. I move closer to get a better look.

  The broken statue is a porcelain Zeus. His countenance is recognizable even without the thunderbolts in his grasp. In seconds, his anger is unleashed in the booming of thunder.

  I don’t have a chance to react before everything goes dark.

  I wake up with a start to the sound of thunder outside my window. Lightning streaks across the night sky, and more ground-shaking thunder follows. Electricity is in the air. Trying to commit the detail of my dream to memory, I hold on to the image of Zeus in my mind.

  The Greek king of Mt. Olympus. I think he was ruler of the sky. I’ll have to ask Uncle Mike in the morning. I’m not sure what the dream could mean.

  I get up and move to the window.

  Rain splatters down the glass. The sound of the small water beads breaking apart is soothing. Lightning strikes again, illuminating the street below my window.

  My eyes scan in a quick double take.

  I could swear I saw a hooded figure looking up at me from the sidewalk below, but the path sits empty.

  The delayed thunder catches up and booms through the night sky.

  My gaze wanders up to the clouds. Zeus is angry tonight.

  I don’t blame him. I’m angry too. An innocent life has been taken by the destructor.

  The wind howls against my window. The howl of a young woman in struggle? My body shivers, and images of a bloated body drowned in a river frighten me enough to make me jump
back into bed.

  I check my phone. It’s nearly 4:00 am. No texts from Darcy. They should be in Ohio by now. I call his cell phone.

  No answer.

  My heart begins to pound in fear. Sounds of the storm match the pace. My worry is creating a symphony of panic.

  I try Rafe’s phone. No answer again. Same with Dylan’s.

  Restless, I sneak to my sister’s room, careful not to wake our parents. I shake Char, bringing her back to reality from her dream’s grasp.

  “Wha?” She smacks my hand away and turns over.

  “Char, I can’t get ahold of the guys,” I whisper.

  “What?!” She sits up in bed squinting at me.

  “Shhh! Don’t wake up mom and dad. The guys aren’t answering their phones. I haven’t heard from them. They should be in Ohio by now.”

  She gives a rare curse and rolls out of bed.

  We both tiptoe downstairs and gently wake Uncle Mike. After a few grumbles, he finally wakes and jumps to alert. He calls the hotel where they have reservations. No one has checked in.

  We all pace the living room, desperate to do something, but helpless.

  The hall grandfather clock that Eddie adores chimes half past four. My parents will be waking up soon to go through their morning routine and get ready for work.

  “We have to talk about something, or I’ll go crazy with this waiting,” says Char, rubbing up and down her arms.

  I sit down and run my fingers through my hair.

  “I had a strange dream,” I sigh.

  “Please tell me it didn’t end with anyone else dying today,” she replies, and I can see tears filling her eyes in the dim firelight.

  I move next to her, putting my arm through hers. “No. Thank goodness. No, it was really weird. I was in this old room and it was full of statues and idols of ancient gods and goddesses. Every one of them came from different times and cultures, but they all, in some way or another, represented the elements.”

  Uncle Mike’s head snaps to attention.

  “The water gods were happy because I found the soul that represented them. The earth gods were encouraging and nurturing. The fire gods seemed difficult to handle and nearly burned me, but then the air gods saved me with a cool breeze,” I do my best to explain.