by Amy Marie
As I look over the scattered pages of the Statera, I’m reminded of the last element we need – fire.
In my dream, the fire gods were difficult to deal with, dangerous even. How will the fire elemental soul be?
I think back to the dreaming memory of the young man of the Pottawatomie tribe. Nothing about his memory seemed dangerous. But I suppose it could’ve been a different story, meeting a wild native face to face back in the eighteenth century.
Will Dr. Higgins find our next lead? Will the remaining tribes be willing to help us?
With everything that’s happened, we haven’t even discussed our next move yet. We’re all still recovering.
Speaking of recovering, I search the room for my sister. She’s slipped out, unnoticed. I go to look for her in the second sanctuary, but find it empty as well.
Wandering up through the passage into Andover Hall, I meander my way through the corridors and stumble upon the chapel.
The chapel is decorated simply and beautifully, not specific to any religion, but open to all. There are elegant hints of familiarity to other churches, but nothing exclusive. The beauty in that concept makes the room warm and welcoming. The way it should be – balanced.
Char sits in the seat at the organ, her head bowed in thought, or possibly prayer. Her shoulders are slouched with a slight shudder.
I move as quietly as I can to sit next to her and wrap my arms around her, letting her cry on my shoulder, letting myself cry into her hair.
She doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. The glow of sunlight pierces the stained-glass window and bathes our skin in a kaleidoscope of ornamental shapes and colors. Light gleams off the particles of dust suspended in the rays of colored light. My tear-blurred vision goes out of focus as the glittering dirt floats through the silent air.
“I can’t believe they’re gone,” her voice comes out in such a small squeak, I’m not even sure if she really spoke.
“They’re not gone. And they never will be,” I whisper automatically, still in a daze.
At my words, the dust parts around us. The glow of the light grows brighter, maybe even warmer for just a few passing seconds. There’s a confirming breath of air that bathes us in response to my words. In a split second, the moment passes and the dust blankets the stale air once more.
I squeeze my eyes closed and say a quick prayer of thanks for the small comfort, even if it was only my imagination.
Later that night at dinner, we sit around the table silently passing food around before eating. There’s something we should be discussing, but it’s as if no one wants to say it out loud.
Finally, Uncle Mike breaks the silence. “We need to talk about the second destructor.”
We all stir, uneasy. No one has mentioned it since we’ve been home. Everyone seems to be afraid to talk about it, in fear of summoning the two cloaked figures.
“All I know is, one of them was out in the daylight. We know that can’t be Talbot,” I say.
“I still don’t understand how there could be two,” says Dylan.
“We saw it with our own eyes. Maybe it has to do with the balance,” suggests Rafe. “If the emptiness were going to send a destructor to fight the elements, as well as the light and dark, why not send one for each?”
“Do you have any clues to who it might be?” asks Tara.
“It’s obvious,” answers Char.
We all drop our silverware and turn her way.
“It’s that awful woman! Lilly!” she insists.
Dylan rolls his eyes. “Just because you don’t like her doesn’t make her a destructor. Listen, I know Lilly. There’s no way it could be her.”
“You did not realize she was an element guide either. How well did you truly know her?” asks Darcy, raising one eyebrow.
“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Rafe reasons. “She knows about the elementals. She could have known where Joe and Tara were. She sent us to look for them and led us right into a trap.”
“She didn’t know where we were going. I never told her about Ohio. And she’s out looking for the elementals on her own. She could be in danger herself right now,” I argue.
“And… she had plenty of time to get rid of me before I even met any of you,” Dylan interjects.
“She also had an opportunity to get rid of me by the river,” I say, looking down at my plate of corned beef hash. “It just doesn’t fit the bill.”
“That’s just what she wants you to think,” mumbles Char.
“What about Emily?” I ask.
Rafe nearly spits out his drink.
“That woman who was after Rafe?” asks Char.
“She was in Oklahoma when the tribe was killed. She could be helping Talbot,” I reason. “I didn’t realize at the time, but he could be controlling her, like the others.”
“It was strange of her to show up at that time, but if she was helping Talbot, why would she reveal herself to you?” asks Darcy.
Okay. That, I’m not sure.
“I just don’t think it could be Em. She was always a little crazy, but not quite homicidal,” Rafe argues.
“Are you really defending her?” Char huffs. “If she’s being controlled by the destructor, you have no idea what she’s capable of. I was kidnapped by the guy. I know how crazy he is.”
There’s just too much we don’t know. Everyone turns to the head of table where Uncle Mike sits, waiting for his input.
“I really don’t know what to think. But I also am very wary of both Emily and our so-called element guide. We should steer clear of them both until we know more. Have you heard from Lilly, Eleanor?”
“No. I’ve tried a few times today, but she hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts.”
“See?” says Char.
“Something could’ve happened to her,” Dylan’s forehead wrinkles in concern. “I could go check out her house. See if she left any clues for us.”
“Not tonight, it’s too dangerous,” says Uncle Mike.
“We can go with him,” Joe offers, taking his wife’s hand. “Anyone will think twice about messing with three elements at once.”
“I can go too,” I volunteer.
“No,” says Darcy, and I resist the urge to stomp on his foot under the table. “I will escort the elementals. You stay here with Michael.” He turns to Rafe, “And you still look like hell, you and Char should get some rest.”
“Hey! This is the perfect chance to test out my Destructor-Buster!” Dylan pulls out his homemade element weapon flame-thrower. The guys roll their eyes and we all laugh at the name.
I pout a little at the idea of everyone going without me, but am secretly thankful for the time to rest.
After dinner, Darcy wraps his arms around me, kissing me goodbye. As the others filter out, I hold him just a moment longer, looking behind his eyes, further into his soul. After what happened to my parents, I never want to part with him without him knowing one thing – the most important thing.
“Be safe. I love you. Till the end.”
“Till the end,” he replies and kisses the tip of my nose.
Chapter 24
After the others take their leave, Char and Rafe say goodnight and retreat to the second sanctuary for privacy and rest.
Uncle Mike and I sit together in front of the fire. It’s the first time we’ve been alone in some time. Our group has grown so fast, there’s barely any one on one time these days.
“Are you still reading that book?” I ask, nodding to the copy of Paradise Lost lying next to him.
“Ah, yes. Well, I’ve found the more I read it over and over, the more I learn from it. Something has been troubling me about the story. I just have a niggling feeling, like there’s something I’m missing. I’m not going to give up on it. I’ve even wondered if it was possible that Milton was involved with the Statera somehow.”
“Don’t you sometimes wish we could talk to them? You know, the people from the past? The people who’ve fought this battle before u
s?” I ask.
“But we do my dear, through the written word. That’s the purpose of the Statera. It is the only avenue for conversation with those who have gone before us, to teach us how to restore the balance,” he says.
I think about Uncle Mike’s concept for a minute. Maybe that’s why I love history so much? There’s so much to learn, and every day new history is made and the knowledge continuously grows.
“You really have lived up to your potential, my dear,” he says after a moment, complimenting me out of nowhere.
“Nah, you’re just getting soft in your old age,” I tease.
He laughs. “That I am, that I am.”
“Potential,” I say, thinking. “We haven’t talked about that in a while. Do you think Jove was originally the air elemental, or do you think Aria’s death and the chain of events that took place after forced him to take over and reach his potential?”
“An interesting thought. I suppose the two of them both could have had the potential, and it could have gone either way. If Talbot had not stepped in, perhaps it would be Aria with the others, and not Jove.”
“But then would Tara still be the earth soul?” I ask, stumbling in my logic.
“Such paradoxes!” he laughs. “The mysteries of the Statera are endless. Perhaps it was destined to be this way from the start? Some people would call it fate. I think we may never know, my dear.” He watches me over the rim of his glasses.
I grow quiet, thinking about the fire soul and the massacred tribe. If the soul of fire was killed in that tragedy, maybe another with potential could still be alive somewhere. That thought gives me hope. And hope is a rare commodity amidst all the recent loss.
My mind drifts to both my real and adopted parents, and I wonder if such tragedies could be part of my destiny.
It’s a great test of faith, not to question personal tragedy.
“They loved you, you know,” Uncle Mike says softly, reading and interrupting my thoughts.
I nod, pressing my mouth into a thin line.
“I remember Selma first telling me you were coming to live with them. I didn’t understand at the time, why they would take in a girl who has no relation to them. I was foolish. I’ve never had my own family. My wife and I never had children.”
This is the first time I’ve heard Uncle Mike talk about his personal life in this way.
“What was she like?” I ask, trying to picture the wife of the scholar.
“She was my soulmate,” he smiles as his eyes glaze over in memory. “She was a strong woman, independent, and very proud. Being the humble man that I am, we made a perfect balance.”
I laugh at his humor. After a moment, I ask, “How did she die?”
“She was killed a few years after I found out about Darcy. My world was destroyed,” he spits out the last word as if it carries a foul taste. He stares into the fire for a moment before continuing. “Such is the irony of keeping the balance. Unfortunately, in order to experience such good in life, we must also take our fair share of the bad.”
I look to the ground, feeling… angry?
“Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with the bad. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like everyone takes their fair share,” I say with a bit of resentment.
“Everyone has their own battles, my dear. Yours may seem colossal compared to some, but look at what you’ve become. Look at what you’re capable of. Not the power, but the goodness in you. The ability to harness that power and not let it consume you, makes you truly one of a kind. You’ve sacrificed much, and you will most likely have to sacrifice more. You’ve done so well. All we can do is hope that our sacrifices will be worth it in the end.”
Hope.
What a strange word. A powerful word. It can keep people alive, keep them fighting. It requires belief and expectations, and a certain amount of trust that you’re doing the right things for the right reasons.
But it’s selfish in its ideals. Hope is conducive to one’s desires. Hope can be false.
But it’s necessary.
The thought pops into my head out of nowhere. Almost as if someone was speaking in my head for me. Or to me.
Yes, hope is necessary in order to keep going. I hope we can succeed in our mission. I hope I don’t let everyone down. I hope I can be strong enough to handle the power of light. I hope, I hope, I hope… the list goes on.
“What do you think of Darcy’s power?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I was quite shocked,” Uncle Mike says, raising his brows. “Though I had suspected he had been hiding some dark secret regarding his power. When you all started to develop your own powers, he always kept quiet about the possibility of his own. I never pushed him about it.”
“Do you think he’ll explore his power?”
“I think Darcy has always struggled with his darkness. For a while, you could even say he was in danger of being lost to it. Losing hope can do that to a person. But there was one time, when I was a young man, that he thought he’d found a woman like you. A woman of light who possibly shared your soul. Just when he had found her, she was killed by Talbot. But he soon realized the possibility that he might find someone like you again one day. Like a candle in the night, you were his beacon of hope. You could say it was the thought of you that pulled him out of his darkness. You can see when you mention any kind of power, he’s afraid of being pulled back in.”
“You make it sound like he would’ve been consumed,” I say, unsure of how to react to Uncle Mike’s words.
“Indeed, he may have. Only light has the power to extinguish that kind of darkness. You are his light.”
His statement sends a chill throughout my entire body. Those are strong words.
I look to the fireplace and the resilient flames dance and waver in an unexpected breeze.
“I’m pretty tired. I think I’m off to bed. Are you staying up?” I ask, as he reaches for his book.
“Oh yes, a bit longer. Goodnight, my dear,” he says.
“Goodnight, Uncle Mike.” I make my way to Darcy’s room.
As I lay down in the canopy bed, my head barely touches the pillow before my exhaustion wins over.
My dreams are fitful and my mind works in a frenzy.
Cloaked figures swirl around in my head.
Suddenly two images meld into one and the full figure of the destructor stands before me, hiding beneath a black shroud.
My hand slowly reaches out and pushes back the hood. I’m not expecting the familiar face that greets me.
“Darcy,” my dreaming voice is full of accusation to find my dark knight under the masquerade of the cloak.
Darcy’s eyes glow with a black light that I’ve only ever seen once in another nightmare.
“My light,” he says with a smirk that sits too straight on his face. Nothing like the crooked smile I’ve grown to love.
“What are you doing?” I ask, holding back angry tears of betrayal.
“The darkness,” he says, as if that explains everything.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Darkness is not emptiness. Don’t give in to it. There’s beauty in darkness.”
“No!” He growls and his hands begin to glow. “There is a curse in darkness. And power. Come with me, my light. Together we can rule them all.”
“I don’t want that and you know it!” I yell back.
“You have no choice! I can control what you want,” his smile is feral.
He strolls forward with purpose and puts his glowing hands on my shoulders, shaking me. There’s a strange sensation tingling its way across my skin from the glowing power emanating from his hands. He moves them up to my throat and begins to choke me.
“Darcy,” my voice strangles out. “This isn’t you.”
“I know,” he smiles into the face of my pain. “It’s the darkness.” At those words the tingling takes over and I fall under his spell.
I wake up, yanking away the shadow of hands from my throat. It feels late, but the others haven’t yet returned.
How long was I asleep?
The usual glow of firelight that peeks underneath the door is missing.
I jump from the bed and rush into the great room to find the fireplace has gone out. I reach for the gas knob that feeds the fire to see if it was turned off, but it hasn’t been touched.
Near the hearth, some wood, paper, and matches lay in a pile, as if someone had tried to start a replacement fire.
Uncle Mike!
I search the room. He’s nowhere to be found. The book he was reading has been left open on the table facedown to bookmark his page.
My step falters as I move to the passage that leads to the second sanctuary.
I should get help.
Something stops me. My gaze turns to the kitchen. The trap door leading up into Uncle Mike’s office has been left open.
The small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, prompting me to go find Char and Rafe. But a greater resolve to keep them safe in their sanctuary turns me to the trap door on my own.
A million thoughts race through my mind of everything I should be doing instead of this. Yet my feet carry me forward, regardless of my panic.
I tiptoe up the stairs of the passage, looking back every so often in hopes that Uncle Mike will be there, safe and sound.
There it is again. Hope.
I find myself hoping that the man that brought me into the mystery of the Statera, the man that re-introduced me to Darcy, and the man that has come to be like family to me, is safe. Hope is all I have to keep my feet moving forward.
With a click of the latch, the trap door leading to Uncle Mike’s office swings forward. The office has been ransacked. Books and ledgers have been thrown all over the room.
Someone was looking for a something.
A book. The book.
I’m left without doubt. Uncle Mike is in danger, and the destructors must be looking for the Statera.
