The Elementalist

by Melissa J. Cunningham

  “But, what about your sisters? Your daughters?” she said to Calliel. “You can’t abandon them.”

  Both Calliel and Brecken stared at her, obviously at a loss for words. Finally, Calliel shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “This is bigger than all of us.” He turned to Angela. “If you can bring us back, then do… for my girls.”

  “Where are they?” Claire asked, her eyes wide and panicked.

  “They’re at home,” Calliel answered. “Please… take care of them if things don’t go well.”

  “You are a terrible man. Do you know that? An awful father!” Angela spat as she glared at Calliel.

  “I know.”

  With her jaw clenched, she walked up to the pool and held her arms out at either side. Wade walked up and took her left hand. Claire took her right. Jamie held Claire’s hand and Katelyn held his. Together, they made a circle of five. Brecken and Calliel lay in the pool side by side, their knees bent and their feet hanging out over the edge, resting on the grass.

  Katelyn watched her phone and at five AM precisely, the eclipse was full. Angela began to speak, her voice strong and gaining power in the almost-hurricane force winds. The storm had become so great that lawn chairs flew across the yard and crashed against the fence. Claire’s hair whipped so forcefully around face her that she was blinded and had to go by sound alone.

  When Angela came to the part of the ceremony that Claire had memorized, she began to chant along with her mother, lending strength to the power that would propel the two men into the next world. And then, suddenly, without warning, the wind stopped. Everything grew still. Claire’s hair fell around her shoulders, tangled. She glanced up at the moon. It shined, a dark, crimson-red—truly like blood—in the eye of the storm.

  Chills rippled over her shoulders and down her back and she almost quit chanting in her surprise. Angela squeezed her hand to remind her to keep going, and power surrounded them in a static haze, growing and glowing like pixie dust in a hurricane.

  And then, just like that, Angela stopped chanting, and Brecken and his father dunked their heads under the water.

  73

  ~Too Late~

  Brecken

  Brecken and Calliel stood at the gates of Idir Shaol. The ceremony had worked! Not knowing if he would ever return for his body, Brecken plowed ahead, not waiting for his dad. Calliel wasn’t his dad anymore anyway.

  The pain of rejection was still there, but Brecken pushed it back, ignoring the ache of a lost illusion. Some angels were angry he was being given a chance at redemption, and maybe they were right. He had done terrible things in the past. Maybe too many to be forgiven. Being the cause of a war was one of them.

  The clanging of Nephilim swords rang loud, the cries of the injured echoed everywhere. There were no dead demons though, as they turned to ash at the moment of death. It was all part of their curse, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if someone put a sword through him right then. Would he turn to dust also? Had redemption claimed him at all yet?

  Seeing a Nephilim sword lying on the ground, he ran to pick it up. It felt warm in his grip and fit his hand with perfect exactness, as though it were made for him. As he stood up to continue his search, he felt the tip of someone’s weapon pressed into his back. Slowly he turned, his arms raised in submission.

  His gaze locked with the one being he’d hoped to avoid. “Bas Iblis.”

  “Hello, Undoer.” Bas Iblis stood with his arm extended, his sword tip still pressed to Brecken’s chest. “This is serendipitous.”

  Brecken would have chalked it up to bad luck, but whatever. He stared the demon down, determined to hide the fear he felt for his old commander, who hadn’t aged at all. At that moment, he appeared in his true form—with deep russet-colored skin, black horns growing from the sides of his head, black lips, and eyes that glowed with fire. He towered over Brecken.

  “I would have welcomed you back into my fold, Undoer, if only you had come home,” he said. “Drop your sword.”

  Brecken was reluctant to do so and gritted his teeth, trying to come up with a way to defeat this demon and actually live through it, but his mind was blank of ideas. Even if his dad had shown up, would he rescue him or help Bas Iblis drive the sword through?

  “Drop it now.”

  “Fine, fine. I’m dropping it.” Brecken let his weapon fall, and it planted itself in the grass beside him.

  “Good. Now step away.” Bas Iblis’ voice rumbled low, a growl at the back of his throat, as dark as the pits of hell. “This is going to give me more pleasure than I have experienced in some time.”

  “Really? Having a few archangels in your dungeon didn’t do it for you?” Brecken drawled.

  Bas Iblis cocked his head, letting a small smile grow on his obsidian lips. “Oh, how I’ve missed your sense of humor, Undoer.” He stared at Brecken for a moment, thinking. “You know, there is still a place for you at my side if you denounce all of this ridiculousness now. There never was a better general than you.”

  The praise meant nothing to Brecken. He’d heard the lies before. This evil, conniving, selfish being had never had a plan for anyone else’s pleasure, but his own. Even while he’d served Bas Iblis, he knew one wrong move would be the end of his own life.

  “Thank you. I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will.” The demon regarded Brecken, and if he hadn’t been paying close attention, if he hadn’t been aware of Bas Iblis’ fighting methods, Brecken would have missed the quick flexing of muscle and the lighting strike of the demon’s sword as he swung it toward Brecken’s neck in an attempt to chop off his head.

  With speed he had never experienced in his human body, he ducked, barely avoiding the poisonous tip of the sword. Brecken stumbled to the ground, grabbing his own sword in the process. He rolled to his feet, his weapon before him as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Now the odds were a bit more even. Bas Iblis scowled as his moment of triumph was stolen from him. He roared in fury and thrust at Brecken, who easily sidestepped.

  “You can’t win now,” Brecken said, finding it hard to hide the smile in his voice. He’d sparred with this old demon many times in the past. He knew his moves, knew his motives, and knew his tells. Knowing one’s enemy was the first rule of success, and there was no better warrior in Barathrum than Bretariel, the Undoer.

  His happiness was short-lived though, as Bas Iblis suddenly let the tip of his sword fall to the ground. He stared over Brecken’s shoulder, but Brecken wasn’t about to be deceived by this ploy. He took that moment to attack, but his momentum sent him sprawling when Bas Iblis dodged around him and ran down the path toward the center of Idir Shaol.

  Brecken turned, stunned that the demon would chicken out and run away, but then his gaze followed….

  …And there she stood, on the top of a green, grassy knoll with wounded souls lying everywhere. Alisa bent down to tend to an aged woman’s wounds. Bas Iblis was heading straight for her!

  Snapping to his senses, he ran forward, but Bas Iblis was already halfway there. Never before had Brecken felt such dread. Alisa was no match for the demon, and she didn’t see him coming. Brecken screamed for her to run! She turned in slow motion it seemed, catching his eye. A smile spread across her face as recognition dawned. Pure joy shined in her expression as she ran down the hill toward him.

  Frantically, he motioned for her to stop. To turn back. To run the other way, but either she didn’t understand him or she wasn’t paying attention. She never saw Bas Iblis coming, and she didn’t see his sword, even when he buried the length of it deep in her belly.

  Bas Iblis turned as he passed her, his momentum keeping him going. Slowly, Alisa’s smile melted into confusion as her fingers wrapped around the steel edges of the hilt. Brecken caught her in his arms as she fell to her knees, her lips forming a perfect O.

  “Brecken,” she whispered as she lifted her eyes to his.

  “Hush,” he said softly, his
heart so full he knew it would break. He glanced up to see a wide smile on Bas Iblis’ face.

  Brecken almost jumped up to pursue him, to stab him with his sword, over and over, as savagely as he could, but he stayed on the grass, holding Alisa’s frail body, his fury and dismay palpable. Alisa tried to lift her hand to his face, but was too weak to complete the action.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips.

  “I’m sorry, Brecken. I’ve… ruined everything,” she mumbled beneath his kiss.

  The ache of tears pressed against his eyes, and the horror in his soul ripped him from the inside out.

  “I don’t… want to… die,” she said so softly he almost didn’t catch it.

  He pressed his fingers against her lips. “Shh. You won’t. Just rest.” And then he turned, twisting his body in search of anyone who could help him. No one with the authority necessary came into his line of vision, although he knew in his heart that nothing could save her… until he saw someone crest the hill, his dark hair the only thing visible at first. Blood was smeared across his face as he labored forward.

  “Raphael!” Brecken screamed as loud as he could.

  The giant warrior glanced up, seeing the two of them, and raced forward, falling to his knees beside Alisa.

  “What happened?” he asked, his hand wrapping around the hilt of the sword. Alisa winced and closed her eyes in agony.

  “Why isn’t she already dead?” Brecken asked. “Isn’t this a Nephilim sword?”

  “I don’t know,” Raphael answered. “It looks like one.” He placed his huge hand on Alisa’s forehead. “Hang on. This will hurt, but to save you, it has to come out.” Then quickly, before anyone could say anything else, he ripped the sword free.

  Alisa screamed, her back arching, and then she fell silent, her eyes closed and still.

  “Alisa?” Brecken covered her face with his hands, frantic. “Alisa! Wake up!”

  74

  ~Unanswered Questions~

  Claire

  Claire and her band of friends stood around the pool. The air whipped around them—the sky dark. Calliel and Brecken lay still under the water, their lips turning blue. It was freezing outside and Claire couldn’t imagine how cold they must be, submerged in the water. She wasn’t sure if she should continue to stand there staring at them or if they should yank them out and revive them.

  “Mom?”

  Angela glanced toward her with a worried look.

  “How long do we leave them there?” she asked.

  Shaking her head, Angela cleared her throat. “Um… I don’t think they’re coming back from this,” she answered, her eyes welling with tears.

  “What?” Katelyn shrieked, her eyes wide and her mouth working in horror. “You can’t be serious!”

  “We had a time limit last time,” Wade said. “There has to be one now.”

  “No,” Angela said, letting go of Wade and Claire’s hands. “There’s nothing more we can do. It’s over. Look.” She pointed to the sky. The eclipse had ended; the blood-red sheen was almost completely gone. The sky was starting to turn pink over the hills, and any visible stars were winking away. “Whatever was going to happen has happened. One side has won.”

  “But which one?” Jamie asked, still holding Claire’s hand. He didn’t look like he was about to let go.

  “Time will tell,” Angela said. “Let’s go inside.”

  ***

  The minutes, and then the hours, ticked by. Brecken’s skin had turned completely blue and his pulse had disappeared. Claire gazed down at his still form, knowing he was gone for good. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. How could he be dead? He’d been so alive one minute and now… he wasn’t.

  Calliel’s skin had continued to pink up after they’d pulled him from the water. They’d left them submerged for twenty minutes, and now they waited. Calliel lay in Claire’s bed, the blankets up to his chin. He’d started to breathe visibly only moments before, his chest rising and falling with each inhalation.

  “He’s coming to, I think,” Katelyn said, her face only inches away from the man’s. The next second, his bright blue eyes flashed open. He sat up in a rush, without any fatigue, startling Katelyn, who screamed and fell backward against the closet.

  Calliel jumped from the bed and ran from the room. “Where is he?” he bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time. He ran through the kitchen and out through the back door. “Where is he?” he yelled again.

  “He’s on the couch,” Angela answered quietly, drying her hands with a dish towel. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

  Calliel fell to his knees beside Brecken’s body, grabbing his son’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between sobs of despair. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened?” Claire asked, kneeling down beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t shrug her away. He’d always seemed so stiff and cold to her. Seeing this kind of emotion from him was upsetting and enlisted her own emotions to rise to the surface.

  “We got separated. I don’t know what happened to him, but if he’s not awake by now, he’s not coming back. How will I ever tell his sisters?” He laid his head on the couch next to Brecken’s chest, his remorse appearing physically painful.

  Claire couldn’t do anything but watch. They all stood around the weeping angel in silence until Angela stepped forward. “We should call an ambulance. You can say he died of complications from leaving the hospital too soon. It will work out.”

  He turned to Angela, tears swimming in his eyes. Claire had a feeling he’d never cried before. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his wet face and running nose. “But my girls will hate me. They’ll think I had something to do with this.”

  Angela nodded. “They may. It will be something you’ll have to work out with them.” Claire’s mother had always been straightforward and honest, but Claire felt sorry for Calliel. She thought her mom should be more compassionate, but she’d also seen how her mother felt about the angel the moment he’d walked in.

  Claire walked over to him, hugging him quickly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  The ambulance came and took Brecken’s body away. Calliel rode in the ambulance as well. Claire wondered if she would ever see him and his family again. Probably not, and that realization left her feeling even more empty. Her friends left, one by one, leaving her to reel at the outcome by herself. All this time, she’d thought they were doing something magnificent, something vital to help the cause, and yet, it had all ended like this.

  Sure, the news had reported a lot of wild weather around the world, which reporters attributed to the crazy lunar eclipse, but Claire knew the truth. Something otherworldly had gone down, and she wasn’t even sure of who the winner was. Angela put her arm around her daughter and they watched the road, long after the ambulance had turned the corner.

  Jamie took her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. He was the last friend to remain, but he didn’t have far to go. Just across the street. “I guess I should get home. See you later?”

  She nodded, but she couldn’t seem to get the ache in her heart to disappear. Brecken was gone, and it was her fault. All of this happened because of her love of Elementalism… because she’d wanted to play with fire… literally. She bowed her head, trying to hold back the aching tears of guilt. Her choices had led them to this. Her mother would never have done any of this if Claire hadn’t first caused so much trouble.

  Angela glanced at Claire and noticed her tears. “Oh, honey. This isn’t your fault. There are no accidents.” She wiped the tears away with her fingers, keeping her hands on either side of Claire’s face. “This happened for a reason. I have a feeling the right side won, and because of Brecken, many lives have probably been saved. I feel it deep inside.”

  “Maybe,” she said, her eyes swimming with misery. “But Brecken would still be here if I hadn’t made this mess.”

  Angela heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe, but what’s done is
done. We have to move on now and hope for the best.” She kissed Claire on the forehead and then headed back inside the house, leaving Claire to stare at the setting sun alone.

  75

  ~Mother~

  Alisa

  Everything had gone quiet—the sounds of battle, the cries of the wounded—and I stood alone in a beautiful field of wild daisies. I walked through them, my fingertips dusting their velvety petals. The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, deep, yet with such warmth that my whole heart felt overjoyed at being there. I turned in a circle, surveying my surroundings with a feeling of peace I’d never had before and couldn’t describe if I’d tried.

  “Alisa.”

  Hearing my name, I looked back over my shoulder. A woman stood behind me in a flowing, white gown made of a material I’d never seen before. Nothing could describe how she looked to me. The word glorious came to mind, but even that didn’t do her justice. Her long, golden hair tumbled over her shoulders and glowed like gossamer. Her eyes were an indescribable shade of blue that radiated like fire. I couldn’t explain it other than to say her gaze penetrated deep inside me and felt like a salve to heal my wounds. There were no words to explain the burning in my heart.

  More than anything, I wanted to run to her and be enveloped in her arms, which I did. With her hands pressed against my back, all I felt was love. Pure love. I couldn’t even form words to tell her how much I loved her and that I wanted to stay here with her.

  She placed her hands on my arms and pushed me back just a bit, so she could gaze into my eyes.

  “Who are you?” I whispered.

  “I’m your mother. I am everyone’s mother,” she said without moving her lips. Our thoughts mingled as though we were of one mind and one thought.

  “I want to stay here,” I said to her in my mind.

  “No,” she said. “It is not time for your rest.”

  “But I’m so tired.”

  “I know.”