Blown (Elemental Series Book 2)

by Rose Wulf

  Victor’s expression darkened for a second, and he replied, “Yes, well … I quite admire a woman with some fire in her; it’s a shame she’s tethered herself to you.”

  “Enough talk, Father,” Jacob growled, keeping his glare on them as he stepped forward. “Let’s simply destroy them and be done with it.”

  “Yes,” Dean began mockingly, a smirk tugging his lips, “let’s.”

  “Everyone remember their dance partner?” Blake asked quietly as Emma and Eric stepped up to Victor’s other side.

  “I believe we’ll make the first move,” Victor declared as a booming clap of thunder suddenly echoed overhead.

  The ground rolled almost immediately, knocking the Matthews family off their feet as it dipped and spiked unpredictably. And as soon as the last one had stumbled, the dirt waves shifted, spreading out and carrying Victor and his children apart.

  “What the hell?” Eric cried as he attempted to roll to his knees.

  Jacob’s angry voice cried out next as he exclaimed, “You think separating us will save you?”

  Blake jolted forward, keeping Jacob in his sights even as Logan propelled him away. Dean had already launched into motion, the ground singeing beneath his feet as he burned through his shoes and chased after Eric.

  Victor looked around as he realized that his children had been dragged away from him, and Logan had gone as well, leaving him alone with Nate. He cocked an eyebrow at Nate and asked, “Should I take it this means you’ve got a bone to pick with me?”

  “You could say that,” Nate replied as the cold breeze suddenly rushed in, swirling around them and easing Nate off the ground.

  “Then tell me,” Victor quipped as his eyes sparked, “are you upset over the uncles you’ll never know—the ones my brother and I killed? Or are you upset over the uncle who’s living out his life in a wheelchair in Texas? Or perhaps it’s the one who can’t stand to look at you?” His eyes narrowed, the sparking electricity now dancing down his arms, and he taunted, “Or are you upset over what you know I’ll do to your lover as soon as you’re dead?”

  Nate met Victor’s glare fearlessly, the wind now whipping around them, and he snapped, “You won’t do anything to Madison or any of my family!”

  “We’ll see about that!” Victor challenged. The sky overhead crashed again, loud enough this time to shake the trees, and a bolt of lightning shot out of the dark clouds at the same time as Victor lifted his arms, firing the pent-up energy he’d gathered. Both beams of electricity arched toward Nate’s hovering form, so Nate did the only thing he could. He dropped to the ground and rolled forward, ignoring the stirring in his stomach as he passed beneath Victor’s lightning. When he popped back to his feet a violent gust of air surged with him, slamming into the older man and sending him flying.

  Victor cried out, first as his feet were ripped from the ground and his body began rolling—up and backwards—at a rapid, uncontrolled pace. And then he cried out again as his back slammed into the thick trunk of a tall, sturdy tree. He was held aloft for a second before he began to fall, managing to catch hold of a branch and temporarily stall his descent. He gritted his teeth, forcing his feet back to brace himself as best he could against the trunk of the tree, and directed his glare toward Nate.

  Thunder boomed again overhead, loud and angry, and then the hail started to fall. Rounded pieces of ice plummeted from the sky, pelting anything and everything between them and the ground. And then the lightning struck a nearby tree, a frightening snap! filling the air mere moments before a large branch crashed to the ground, narrowly missing Dean’s car. The tree itself smoldered, smoke drifting up to the sky, but didn’t quite catch fire.

  Nate swallowed, holding himself aloft and using tight swirls of air around his body to avoid the heavy hail as he did his best not to show the lingering moment of discomfort that the lightning had caused. His enemy was on the ground now, having used the distraction of the changing weather to his advantage, but he wasn’t actually moving away from the tree. In fact, he was keeping one hand braced firmly on the sturdy trunk. I think I hurt him. And he had a fleeting moment, God help him, of almost feeling guilty. It went against his nature to actively try to harm another person.

  But he had to remember that this man, despite being only a handful of years older than his own parents, was not the kind of person that deserved mercy. This man was a murderer.

  “I have to admit,” Victor began, easily projecting his voice over the storm that he’d summoned, “from the story I heard, your predecessor didn’t put up nearly so much of a fight.”

  Nate frowned. “So it wasn’t you who killed my uncle?”

  “If you’re referring to Trevor,” Victor replied, “no, it wasn’t me. That was my brother.” His lips lifted in a true sneer and he added, “But it will be me who kills you!” Another spear of lightning fell from the sky, aimed straight at Nate, as if to emphasize Victor’s words.

  Nate threw himself to the side, surrendering his hail-shield in favor of speed, and only barely managed to dodge the deadly attack. He was breathing heavily as a result of the electrically-charged air, and now he was having to squint just to see past the continuous deluge of ice. But it didn’t matter, because Victor hadn’t moved.

  Projecting his own voice to be heard over the storm, Nate called, “I should really thank you! You’ve made the conditions just about perfect!”

  Victor looked appropriately taken aback and demanded, “What do you mean?”

  Nate’s lips lifted in a smirk and he deliberately held his arms out as he asked, “Did you ever see Twister?”

  Victor’s eyes widened even as the air around them began whipping fiercely. The hail no longer fell straight and the twigs and branches that had fallen loose were quickly pulled back into the air. His footing became less than stable as the air suddenly sucked on him and the heavy branches above him began shaking and groaning. The branch that had nearly crushed Dean’s car rolled—first once, then twice, then rapidly forward until it slammed against a large boulder. But the rock only stopped it for a minute, before the air used the new angle to get beneath the wood and tug, and then the branch was airborne.

  Turning his wide eyes back toward Nate, who was holding steady as the air whipped at his hair and clothes, Victor cried, “You can’t summon a tornado here! Think of your brothers!”

  “My brothers will be fine,” Nate returned, entirely undaunted by Victor’s ploy. His smirk broadened and he added, “And as for ‘can’t summon a tornado here’ … we’ll just see about that!”

  The truth was, he hadn’t tried creating a tornado since he was fifteen. Back then, he’d only gone out to the center of his parents’ backyard, and he’d only bothered at all because he’d been incredibly bored and he thought it’d be fun. He’d been grounded for nearly a month, and the neighbor never did figure out why his parents insisted on paying for the destroyed fence. But this time he doubted he’d get in trouble for the effort, and this time he knew exactly how dangerous it was to do what he was doing.

  “Hold still a little longer,” Victor called, reaching back with his free hand now and grabbing hold of the tree trunk behind him, “and I’ll strike you down!”

  Nate heard the thunder crash over the screaming of the wind, and he felt the air charging again a split second before the lighting tore free from the clouds and raced toward him. He was making too big a target by holding his position, but he needed as much of his concentration as he could manage or else he risked creating a tornado that he couldn’t control.

  He reacted on instinct.

  The lightning tore through Nate’s suddenly unoccupied t-shirt as it flapped around in the gale. The shirt caught fire for an instant, but the fire blew out a beat later, and the tattered remains of the shirt continued spiraling along with the rest of Nate’s clothes.

  “You fool!” Victor cried, looking all around as though he’d be able to spot him. “You can’t hold that form forever!”

  An extra gust of wind yanked
at Victor, nearly tearing him from the ground and the tree he’d rooted himself on.

  Victor’s head snapped around and another bolt of lightning struck the ground immediately beside him. But the wind didn’t stop. And as he looked forward again, still searching for any signs of Nate, the tree behind him began to shift and creak. The wind was tightening in on him, spiraling closer. It had started to form the funnel of the tornado Nate had threatened. His eyes lifted higher, in time to see the clouds that he himself had helped to summon swirl and pull toward the growing funnel. And the funnel was nearly touching the ground.

  “Are you willing to sacrifice your life just to end mine?” Victor shouted, his words almost immediately getting lost on the wind. “Who’s to say your brothers will be as successful? Who will protect your family after you’re all dead?” His throat was going dry as he screamed into the wind, trying to be heard over the howling. But it was pointless. Even as he watched, the funnel merged with the clouds. The wind immediately increased.

  And then the funnel touched down.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Madison was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room, her unfocused gaze aimed at the floor, when Angela’s oddly observant voice remarked, “The wind is picking up…”

  All eyes turned toward the large windows then, where they could see for themselves the proof of her words. The trees in the yard beyond were swaying noticeably with a breeze that hadn’t been there half an hour before. It wasn’t enough of a wind to cause any damage, and it was certainly the kind of unpredictable gust that would barely get passing attention from anyone else. But to them—to Madison—it was dangerous.

  Brooke was the next to speak, her voice quiet and hesitant as she asked, “It could … just be a coincidence, right?”

  “It could,” Lillian replied in a tone not unlike Angela’s. There was a layer to her voice, however, that indicated she didn’t think much of coincidences.

  And Madison knew better. Madison knew that it wasn’t a coincidence. She knew that, despite the fact that he was a good twenty minutes away, that wind was Nate’s. She could feel it all the way to her bones. And that they could see the side effects of whatever he was doing from this distance was terrifying. As she watched the tops of the trees sway, almost as if they were dancing, Madison felt her stomach clench and her eyes begin to burn. She didn’t want to cry in front of them.

  They all jumped, startled, when Madison’s phone started ringing.

  “Sorry,” Madison mumbled self-consciously as she tugged her phone from her front pocket. She was about to hit “ignore” when she realized that the caller was her mother, and guilt settled over the rest of her emotions. She felt like she’d been ignoring her mother a lot lately. And I could use a distraction. “I should take this,” Madison said softly as she pushed to her feet. She kept her head down as she fought to contain her tears; she didn’t want her mother to hear them in her voice.

  “Hi, Mama,” she said, phone at her ear, as she stepped into the hall.

  “I was going to wait until later to call,” Missy began, a faint laugh behind her calm, casual tone, “but then I remembered that I’m not the only one who doesn’t have to go into work right now. So I thought ‘why not?’”

  Madison tried to lift her lips, hoping to put the smile into her voice, but the effort seemed too much. So she settled for hoping and replied, “That makes sense to me.”

  “And speaking of jobs,” Missy continued, “Your friend Logan responded to my email last night. Now how is he related to Nate again? They’re brothers, right?”

  She took a long, deep breath and slumped against the wall outside of the library. She had hoped her mother would be calling to update her on the local gossip, but she should have known better.

  “Madison?” Missy asked, noting the strange silence that greeted her question.

  Quickly catching herself, Madison managed, “Oh, yes, they’re brothers. Did Logan answer your questions? I thought it sounded pretty good for you.”

  Missy was quiet for a long minute. And then, finally, she asked, “M, what’s the matter? You sound upset.”

  Please don’t. She didn’t want to be asked those questions. Putting on what she hoped was a convincing smile, she said, “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m just distracted is all. Could I maybe call you later?”

  “Madison Price,” Missy said firmly, “don’t you lie to me. There’s something going on that you’re not telling me about, and I can’t help if I don’t know what it is. Now you just sit right down and make time for me.”

  Madison cringed. Never, not once, had she gotten out of it when her mother took that tone. But she couldn’t tell her the truth—she had promised Nate. And she didn’t have a good alternative story to tell. “Mama, I … I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean you can’t? The only secrets you’re allowed to keep from your mother are the kind that get wrapped and put under a tree,” Missy scolded.

  If only life were that simple, Mama. She opened her mouth to argue her stance, but before a single word could slip free she noticed movement in her peripheral vision. And then Lillian had stepped into her line of sight, a small, understanding smile on her face. Sensing that the older woman had something to say, Madison said, “Hold on a minute, Mama.”

  Keeping her voice quiet, Lillian held out a small box of tissues and said, “We should never have asked you to lie to your mother. Please, tell her anything you need to. And, if it would be easier, I’d be happy to talk to her.”

  Madison accepted the tissues and finally managed a small smile. “Thank you, but I’ll tell her.”

  Lillian inclined her head and moved to open the library door for her. “Take your time,” she whispered as Madison passed.

  With another nod at Nate’s mother, Madison moved toward the large window seat to make herself comfortable. She could still see the dancing trees on the other side of the glass, but a part of her was afraid she’d regret it if she looked away. “Mama,” she said again, “you might want to be sitting down for this.”

  ****

  Blake was breathing heavily as he and Jacob continued their seemingly endless game of deadly dodge ball. Jacob would throw another bolt of lightning and Blake would somehow manage to dive out of the way, but the attacks always had an effect. Blake was eternally grateful to the clouds overhead that were helping to trap a little extra moisture in the air. Both combatants were distracted, however, when the wind started to rapidly increase around them. Blake could only hope his brother was faring all right.

  ****

  Dean’s temper had long since boiled over. Eric was reckless, wildly raining lightning bolts down around his opponent and hoping one of them would connect. The excess electricity was certainly taking its toll on Dean, but each strike sparked a small fire when it connected with the ground or a tree, and those flames rejuvenated him. And, he’d noticed, Eric’s aim didn’t seem to be all that good. If it weren’t for the kid’s speed, the fight would probably even be over already. But Eric’s almost-constant chuckling stalled when the wind picked up, whipping around them and giving extra life to the flames. Deciding he would only worry when the wind stopped, Dean moved to press his advantage.

  ****

  Logan had quickly discovered Emma was a tricky fighter. As soon as she’d realized that he would be her opponent, she had scrambled toward a tree with relatively low-hanging branches and climbed. She obviously knew better than to stay on solid ground when standing against him. And her aim wasn’t bad, either. More than once, Logan had been forced to dive entirely underground to avoid a strike. But that was okay, because the longer he lingered beneath the surface the more strength he regained. And there was a slight problem with her hide-in-a-tree strategy: trees were very solidly rooted to the earth beneath them. Still, he paused when he breached the surface again, noting that the wind was much stronger than before. But he knew he couldn’t help Nate until his own fight was finished.

  ****

  Victor had resort
ed to bringing down bolts of lightning at every angle, hoping he would get lucky and strike his invisible opponent. The tornado was fully formed now and the tree he was clinging to wouldn’t be holding strong much longer. Already it lurched with the pull of the wind.

  “Coward!” Victor cried uselessly. He could barely hear his own words now, and keeping his feet on the ground was almost impossible. His back already hurt, and he was concerned that his opponent might have done some damage when he’d been thrown into the tree, but he refused to surrender. So he tried the only recourse he had left. He closed his eyes and drew upon his power, grabbing hold of the clouds he’d summoned earlier and willing them to disperse.

  The approaching tornado faltered, spinning in place for a moment as the surrounding atmosphere began to change.

  But it resumed its pace a beat later, moving rapidly toward Victor.

  The edges of the clouds were thinning and pulling away, but they weren’t leaving quickly enough. The tree Victor was clinging to still struggled against its roots, stretching up toward the sky eagerly. And Victor had a problem. The trunk of the tree was too large for him to wrap his arms entirely around, so his fingers were digging painfully into the bark as he sought to anchor himself. But it was no longer working.

  The tornado was upon him and his feet were in the air as he was being pulled upside down and backwards toward the sky. He cried out as his fingers began slipping, dragging painfully along the trunk of the tree. And then a tendril of wind wrapped around his torso, tugging deliberately and yanking him entirely into the air.

  Victor summoned another bolt of lightning, hoping the invisible rope still coiled around him was Nate, but the lightning seemed to have no effect. He was still soaring through the air, spinning around in the tornado and struggling to breathe. His screams were lost practically before they could fall from his lips and he no longer had any sense of direction. He could only assume that he was up, though whether that meant his feet were pointed toward the sky or the ground he wasn’t so sure.