Elemental
Part 1: Book 1
Cheryll Hastie
Chapter 1: Steele
Jacks life ended two years before he woke on his thirteenth birthday. He didn't open his eyes; he knew what day it was. The dread was a solid stone wall. He drew his head further down into the warm cocoon of his quilt. He wanted to sleep, to recapture his lost dream. His brain stretched to bring it back to life — there was a weird orange light and a shadow …
‘Jack? Are you up?’ The strands of the half formed dream disintegrated and Jacks eyes snapped open. The voice belonged to his mother, Jenna Steele. A small woman, bird-like, a transparent reflection of the person she had been before Sophie vanished. Her skin was blotchy and gaunt; her once sparkling sapphire eyes burrowed furtively in their sockets.
Jack could vaguely remember a birthday – long ago now, five years, maybe more – when she had come into his room with a chocolate cake at six o'clock in the morning; it was light anyhow. Together they blew out the candles and, whispering and giggling, ate half of it for breakfast before his father woke. With a small start he realised that it must have been closer to seven or eight years than five because Sophie didn't exist. It was one of Jack’s most precious memories; rarely brought out, always carefully replaced. Perfect.
‘Jack,’ his mother repeated opening his bedroom door. As he dragged his head out from beneath the covers frigid air hit his face and scurried down his back. His mother’s eyes, watery and flat, were surrounded with dark puffy circles and her skin was paler than ever. Twenty years had fallen on her in one night. Perhaps, Jack thought, it was because he remembered her as she was on the long ago morning of the birthday cake breakfast.
‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ Jack said his voice matching hers in dreariness. He turned away without waiting for a reply – silence, a long silence – then Jack heard the door close, listened as her shuffling footsteps quietened and disappeared down the stairs, as the noise died.
Jack got out of bed and pulled on some blue jeans and a tee before trudging into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As the toothpaste foamed in his mouth he stared at himself in the mirror - blue eyes flat, skin fish-belly pale - and wondered when he had become so much like his mother. Slowly he washed his face and hands before making his way downstairs.
Jack was surprised to find both of his parents in the kitchen.
‘Morning,’ he said, his eyes flicking cautiously between them.
‘Happy birthday Jack,’ his mum said. Horatio Steele rustled the paper he was reading. Jack turned to him, almost eagerly, but his dad was just turning a page. His father used to be tall, distinguished with thick, shoulder length brown hair. Before inheriting Steele Manor from his cousin Earnest he worked as a Professor at the local University. Now he was a shadow of his former self. The strain of the search for Sophie had caused most of his hair to fall out and he had shaved the rest off. He drank more, ate less and seemed stretched rather than tall. Like his wife and son he was pale and his eyes were outraged.
Jack fiercely believed his real parents had disappeared with Sophie – not all at once like she did – that would have been clean. Instead they had gone slowly - fading with every suspicious look from friend or stranger until they were unrecognisable. Today, two years later, Jack suspected that he was really living with ghost people in a house haunted by the spirit of his sister.
Jack’s mum handed him a blue envelope before turning her back on him to make breakfast.
‘Thanks Mum,’ Jack said. He opened the envelope carefully, desperately... Inside he found a £50.00 note and a card. The card had a picture of a football on it. Inside it read ‘from Mum and Dad’. Jack swallowed back a hard lump that grew in his throat and settled there – immovable. His parents hadn’t bought him a single gift for two years.
‘So, what are you going to spend it on?’ his mum asked as she cracked eggs into a pan of boiling water. Jack gulped, the lump loosening, and looked at her.
‘I was thinking of going to that new games shop in town, you know the one – they’ve got that new…’ Jack began.
‘That sounds very nice dear,’ his mum interrupted. ‘What would you like for breakfast? Anything you like.’ She moved across the kitchen and got the butter. Jacks gaze dropped to the table.
‘I’m not really very hungry,’ he said.
‘Very well dear. Why don’t you go now while you haven’t got anything to do?’ The toast popped from the toaster and she began to butter it.
‘I was thinking maybe Dad could come with me later…’ Jack said making one final effort. ‘You know, after work or something.’ He lifted his eyes from the table to look at the newspaper that hid his father. It rustled.
‘I think your father has to work tonight. He’s running a bit late. I had a … bad night,’ her voice wobbled.
‘Fine,’ Jack said bitterly. ‘I’ll go on my own now then if that’s what you want.’ There was no answer. His father didn't emerge from behind the paper and his mother was looking at one of the hundreds of photographs of Sophie that dominated every room in the house. Jack jerked out of his seat, shoved the money in his pocket, turned on his heel and left. Neither of his parents noticed him go.
He stalked down the sweeping driveway. It was uncontrollably lush with weeds, jasmine and wild roses. The once neatly clipped box hedges stretched their branches riotously into the garden, romping this way and that, disordered and tangled. The day they moved in – two weeks before Sophie disappeared – the leaded windows of the Manor, too many to count, gleamed and twinkled to welcome the family. Now the windows were boarded up, the front doors chained shut.
Jacks fists were jammed tightly in the pockets of his jeans, the fifty pound note his mother had given him scratching against his knuckles. He kicked out at the branches that littered the driveway – their heady smell and rambling freedom added fuel to his rage which was so all-consuming that Jack almost missed the new path.
It’s not a real path though, was Jacks first thought. The long grass was beaten down in a narrow, winding trail that led unmistakeably to a small copse of trees. The bent grass did not look brown and dead as if it had been broken days previously. It looked freshly made; he was sure he could smell the sap from the broken stems. He snickered. It was ridiculous to imagine that the path had just appeared. Impossible.
As Jacks curiosity grew, his anger faded. The path led directly to the copse which looked oddly remote as if it were much further away than it could possibly be. It looked vaguely familiar. Jack frowned, thinking furiously before his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise. It was the wood he and Cali were talking about the day of the party. The day Sophie disappeared. What did Cali say about it?
It was haunted. That's what she said.
Thinking of Cali made him feel worse, so Jack pushed the thought away, trying to work out instead who could have made the strange not-path. His eyes were drawn down it to the small copse once again and that was when he saw a girl with golden hair.
Jack blinked but before he could firmly fix her image in his mind the small figure passed between the trees and into shadow. Jack began jogging down the path his anger all but forgotten.
‘Hey!’ he called out, though he could no longer see the girl. Was not even sure if he had seen a girl at all.
As he got closer to the copse Jack realised that it was a lot bigger than it seemed, and much further away. By the time he reached it he was out of breath. He stood at the edge of the forest that emerged from the copse gaping – he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The trees, which looked ordinary from the driveway, were incredible; huge and ancient, twisted and gnarled. Vines wound sinuously around them
– they were beautiful, dignified and enormous.
As if in a trance Jack walked forward, under the canopy and into the darkness beyond. A strange quiet descended. The trees were thickly scattered, dimming the brightness of the day to seem like early twilight though some light beams were filtering down from overhead, warm and green – he could see dust motes floating in the shards` of sunlight that gently nestled on the forest floor. Jack turned. He could see the start of the path that led back up to the driveway. He stood in silent debate. Before he could take a step he heard a muffled noise ahead. Without another thought he turned to follow it into the forest.
Jack crashed through the woods chasing the tantalising image of golden hair. He stopped to listen again, turning full circle, his hands brushing lightly over the foliage as he scanned the woods. He couldn't see or hear the mysterious figure. The copse which seemed so small from the driveway of Steele Manor was a huge and strange forest. He was lost and the girl, if it was a girl, was gone.
Jack began to push through the undergrowth again, now trying to find a way out. Whichever way he chose the forest became harder to penetrate. He began to panic – he was being hemmed in, herded. Jack pushed hard through a particularly tough, prickly group of bushes and was suddenly falling. He thrust both hands in front of him before he hit the ground and slid down a steep slope. He came to the bottom with a jerk, flipped over and cracked his head against a rock.
Jack woke to find himself face down in fragrant grass. He sat up and gazed around the large bowl shaped clearing he found himself in. There was something wrong. It was the light. Jack looked up. A full moon. He’d been out for hours, at least twelve maybe more. As he searched his throbbing head for damage Jack saw that the grass carpeting the ground looked short, as if it had been recently mown. There were five trees and Jacks first thought was that they must have been planted because they were positioned like the five on a dice, four making a square with the largest tree in the centre. They were so tall Jack couldn't even see their tops – they looked ancient.
Jack got slowly to his feet and limped to the largest, central tree. He tried to put his arms around it. He couldn’t even get them quarter of the way around, not even half of a quarter. He stood looking around the glade, his arms loosely wrapped around the tree as if he were comforting it, and realised that not only were the trees a precise distance from one another they were also exactly in the middle of the clearing.
The pale light from the moon, the silence all around him and the thick, heavy quality of the air reminded Jack of a cathedral he had visited years ago. If he spoke he knew – just like in the cathedral – his voice would have a faint echo. He opened his mouth to test his theory.
‘Hello Jack,’ a disembodied voice softly spoke. Jack froze. The crazy thought took him that Cali was right – the wood was haunted… His eyes swept the clearing but he could see no one. ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ the voice spoke again. Jack dropped his arms from around the tree and turned, searching.
‘Where are you? What are you?’ Jack asked.
‘Up here,’ the voice said. Jack hesitated. A deep instinct told him not to look - to get out while he still could - but his mood was wild. Who cared if he spoke to a ghostly voice in a strange, unnatural forest? His parents? The friends who had vanished with Sophie? He looked up.
Chapter 2: Chasing Destiny
A man was sitting on the lowest branch of tree. His hair was long and brown and he sported a moustache and goatee. A bright floral print orange and pink shirt completed his startling appearance.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Jack said, backing away.
‘Actually I did. You asked where I was,’ the man said with a half-smile that sat uncomfortably on his face. There was an awkward pause. Jack stared.
‘I suppose you did,’ he said.
‘Don’t you think it would be polite to let me ask a question now?’
Jack shrugged.
‘Why are you here?’ the man asked, his bright green eyes sharpened and his smile faded around the edges.
‘I don’t know,’ Jack replied, thinking it was a very odd question. After another heavy silence where he was scrutinised closely by the man, Jack finally spoke again.
‘I was having a look around. So who are you?’ The man laughed. It sounded borrowed, like his smile.
‘I’m Gordy,’ he said.
‘I asked who you are, not your name,’ Jack said, his voice flat.
‘You can tell a lot about a person by their name,’ Gordy said, gazing up into the sky.
Jack waited looking patiently up at Gordy. After two years of rumours and gossip, he was used to keeping his mouth shut.
‘OK, I am not being entirely transparent,’ Gordy said, his smile had disappeared but at least now he was looking at Jack instead of the stars.
‘What are you doing up a tree?’ Jack asked.
‘What you should be asking,’ said Gordy ‘is what I am doing here now, just in time for you to find me…’
Jack sighed. He was going to have to play this strange game. ‘OK. What am I doing here?’
‘I’m making sure you find me before you find anyone else. Or anyone else finds you,’ Gordy said, his voice low as if someone might be listening. Jack looked around. All he could see were trees, but there were a lot of deep, dark spaces between them.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m here because you’re our last hope.’
‘Sorry, our what?’ Jack said blankly.
‘If you want to find out who you really are and your destiny all you have to do is listen.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Jack's mind was racing. The man was clearly unbalanced but Jack did not want to make him angry by leaving. Gordy gestured for Jack to climb the tree and join him.
‘Join me and I will help you understand.’
Jack’s eyes widened, alarm bells ringing. ‘If it’s all the same to you I’d rather stay here for the time being.’
Gordy shrugged. A sour look passed briefly over his face and he closed his eyes. Jack scanned the clearing. The moon was very bright, the clearing well lit – if Gordy was a good runner he might be able to catch Jack before he reached the trees. Jack would have to stay, at least for a while.
‘Have you ever heard of Elementals?’ Gordy asked, opening his eyes and fixing Jack with his strangely penetrating gaze.
‘Elementals? No, I don’t think so,’ said Jack. There was something unusual about Gordy’s eyes but he couldn't quite work out what. It wasn’t the colour, he was sure of that, although they were a very deep green. Was it that they seemed out of focus? Perhaps Gordy was short sighted. Jack wasn’t sure what someone who was short sighted looked like, but he didn’t think their pupils would move.
Gordy frowned. Jack stared at him – Gordy’s pupils were exactly where they should be, but he was sure one of them had been off centre only moments ago. Jack could not quite put his finger on it. His eyes just didn’t seem quite… real.
‘The Elementals are an ancient people, very, very ancient. We fall into four groups – Earth, Water, Air and Fire.’
‘Wait a minute. We?’ Jack said. Gordy continued as if Jack had not spoken.
‘Hundreds of years ago we used to live alongside humans and occasionally even cohabited with them. It was a Golden Age. As with all Golden Ages, however, it came to an end. The human race became greedy – they wanted the Elementals to use their influence over Nature to…’
‘What influence?’ Jack interrupted. ‘What are you trying to say? Elements are people?’
‘Elementals are people,’ Gordy said. His voice was calm but his eyes were not. And hadn’t they changed again? Gordy’s eyes had no pupils at all. Jack’s mind was racing – at first Gordy seemed harmless, but now he seemed detached from reality, talking about elements as if they were real. And Jack was frightened of the change in Gordy’s eyes. Those deep, penetrating pupil-less eyes.
‘I am not human,’ Gordy said. Jack let out a bark of laughte
r.
‘Sure. I have to go home now. My mum and dad will be really worried,’ Jack said hoping Gordy would believe him, though he was lying through his teeth. He would be very surprised if either of his parents even knew he wasn’t at home.
‘Please hear me out.’
‘I don’t want them to call the police or anything.’
‘Please,’ Gordy repeated, his voice soft. Jack wavered, but only for a moment.
‘OK.’
Gordy nodded. ‘They, that is humankind, wanted the Elementals to use their influence over Nature to ensure good crops in the field, good catches in the lakes and oceans. If a crop failed or nothing was caught it was our fault. The blame escalated and we were hunted like animals. Burned, drowned, named witches and devil worshippers.
‘In the end we began to hide ourselves. First the Air Elementals, the sylphs – they were always the least connected to the human colonies – then the nymphs, who watched over the water and the Fire salamanders disappeared. Finally the Earth Elementals, the Gnomes, persecuted, almost extinct. When we hid ourselves there were only seven families remaining that we knew of. We’ve since rediscovered four more branches and the numbers are building.’
‘You’re telling me you’re a Gnome? You?’
‘Looks can be deceiving. We don’t hide in holes and up trees – what kind of people do you take us for?’
‘I’ve never really… that is… I don’t know,’ Jack said carefully, eyeing the ground he would have to cover to the tree line again.
‘We hide in plain sight. We use glamour – what humans call magic. Observe,’ Gordy said. Jacks mouth dropped open as Gordy’s face began to ripple, his features distorting.
‘Wh…. Bu… we…?’ spluttered Jack. Gordy no longer looked even vaguely human. He was half the size, his skin leathery and thick – a lot like an elephants only brown. Gordy's piercing green eyes remained green however now they were green corner to corner – a bright, almost luminescent green. The pupils and bright whites were gone. Gordy’s strange and compelling eyes disturbed something in Jack’s memory. It rolled over uneasily, teasing the back of Jacks brain but it sank back before Jack could capture it. Gordy’s nose was rounder, smaller, and his ears pointed. His hair was short and green, but stood on end making him appear to be wearing a furry halo. It looked like moss.
Elemental: Steele Stolen: Part 1 and 2 Page 1
