Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series)

by Crystal Groszek

  Twenty minutes later, I'm sauntering down the stairs, barefoot, in a black lace, long-sleeved, bandage dress that hugs my body in all the right places. The hem stops mid-thigh and it would be see-through if it wasn't for the nude lining. It's the only thing Jessie ever gave me. She showed up last Christmas with the dress shoved in her purse. I'm pretty sure she shoplifted it, but I appreciated the gesture. I never planned on actually wearing it, until now.

  My hair, still slightly damp, is piled loosely on the top of my head, a few tendrils artfully framing my face. I went light on the make-up, just a smoky eye that makes the grey in my irises pop and a sheer berry-colored lip stain. The only jewelry I'm wearing is my heart-shaped pendant, except I traded the long silver chain for a thin, nylon cord that used to belong to a chunky hippy peace sign that my mom gave me, a relic from her own teenage years. The pendant rests tightly against the hollow of my throat.

  Greta is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, most likely to make sure I don't get "lost" on my way to the dining room. I suppress an eye roll and return her startled gaze with a cool smile. Once I step off the stairs I slip on the four inch black stilettos I used to wear with my school uniform to show the other girls that I have bite; Jessie's idea. I continue past Greta without waiting for her to join me.

  Gas lamps light the hall, casting eerie shadows that comfort me. As I walk past, the lights flicker. I can feel slight waves of warmth wash over and through me. I hear Greta's heels click behind me. I keep expecting her to catch up with me and demand that I change, but she keeps a measured distance. It gives me the creeps, but I push off any uneasy feelings and hold fast to the steady power that is slowly and evenly building inside of me.

  Two maids in matching black uniforms stand outside the dining room. As I approach, they move in unison and open the heavy wood doors. The creeped-out feeling I was trying to suppress gives a little surge and a shiver runs through me. The few dinners I had had with Magda were never this formal. I hadn't given a single thought to who tonight's guests are, but now I'm getting nervous.

  I pause in the doorway, straighten my spine, and throw my shoulders back and my chin up before entering the room. The formal dining table is at least twenty-feet long and lined with a dozen white pillar candles. The flames flicker cheerily along with the fuzzy light of the gas lamps on the walls. A fire has been lit in the white marble fireplace, adding warmth to the dark wood furniture and the deep red walls. For the second time today the feeling of being home floods me and makes me ache.

  My eyes flick from the fire itself to the small cluster of people standing by the hearth, drinks in hand, their conversation halting the second they notice me. Three of the people I don't recognize, but one I definitely do. It takes all of my willpower and inner strength to not react to seeing Lex standing in my dining room in a dark blue, fitted three-piece suit with a heavy crystal whiskey glass in his hand, chatting casually with a group of strangers. I blink a few times before plastering a coy, flirty smile on my face.

  I saunter around the table to the mini bar in the corner. I choose a blue bottle of gin and pour some in a glass with splash of seltzer water, taking a long drink before refilling and turning around to face them.

  "Hi, Lex. I didn't know you were back too." Before giving him the chance to respond I walk up to the others and introduce myself.

  "I'm Evan O'Fion, Magda's granddaughter."

  I hold out my hand to an older man. He's short with greying hair and a bland, disinterested face. He takes my hand and gives it a weak shake, but not before taking a long admiring look at my dress. I shudder. Next to him is a girl. She stands about my height, maybe a little taller if I wasn't wearing heels, but she holds herself sort of hunched in a way that diminishes her; I'm reminded strongly of Grace. The girl's dark brown hair is pulled over her shoulder and tied with a cobalt blue ribbon that matches her modest long-sleeved dress. She looks up at me through dark eyelashes, her eyes large, deep set, and the color of sea foam.

  "Evangeline," the older man says, pulling my attention away from the girl, "I've been looking forward to meeting you. I'm Rodger Bloom, your grandmother's lawyer."

  I give him a big fake smile, even though the way he's looking at me grosses me out.

  "Nice to meet you," I reply in a sickly sweet voice that doesn't sound like me at all.

  I turn expectantly to the girl but, before she can say anything, the third member of the party steps forward. I hadn't really gotten a good look at him before, but he has my full attention now. He has dark brown hair like the girl, except his is wavy and has honey-colored streaks running through it. His eyes are green, too, but they're the color of polished emeralds with flecks of gold when they catch the light. In the shadows they're a flat bottle green.

  His skin is pale and he has blue-black circles under his eyes, as if he hasn't slept in a long time, an effect that only seems to add to his beauty. He's wearing a gray tweed suit that fits him perfectly; instead of a plain white button down underneath, he has on a red and blue plaid shirt and dark gray tie. When I take his offered hand a chill sweeps through me that touches hidden places and causes the edge of my vision to blur. I pull away quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I see the girl watching me, her expression one of curiosity. Rodger clears his throat, breaking the moment.

  "Evangeline, let me introduce you. This is Ezra Volkov and his sister, Matilde."

  "Please," Matilde says in a soft voice with a hint of a British accent as she offers me her hand, "call me Mattie."

  "Mattie. Got it. Nice to meet you. And," I say turning to Ezra, "should I call you Ezzie?" I give him a wry smile that does little to hide the flirty tone of my voice. I see Lex stiffen out of the corner of my eye; Mattie covers her laugh with a cough.

  "No," he answers returning my smile, "Ezra will do fine." His voice curls around me like a dark, heady smoke. I find it difficult to tear my gaze away from him but somehow I manage.

  "So, when's this shindig getting started?" I say, smoothly heading over to the table. A maid appears out of thin air and pulls out the chair at the head. I glance around looking for Magda but she isn't anywhere to be seen.

  "Actually," Rodger says smugly, taking the chair to the right of the one the maid pulled out, "we were waiting on you." He gestures for me to sit at the head of the table so I do, reluctantly. The others follow suit, Ezra taking the seat next to Rodger. Lex pulls out a chair for Mattie before taking the seat to my left. I can almost hear his heartbeat, feel its pulse against my skin. I shake off the feeling and focus on my drink. Once it's empty a different maid appears with a fresh one. Maybe someone should tell them that I'm only seventeen?

  "So, uh, why were you waiting for me?" I ask, lamely.

  Rodger gives me a funny look before his face melts into a smug grin. "I believe it's customary to wait for the host before starting dinner."

  I nearly choke on my gin. "Host? Where's Mag-er-my grandmother?" I sputter.

  "She got called away. I'm sorry, did she not tell you?" Rodger sounds less than concerned.

  "Oh, no. I must have forgotten," I mutter.

  Servants appear with covered dishes saving me from further humiliation. They begin serving portions of heavy, rich food that I don't think I can stomach right now. I chance a glance at Ezra who seems bemused by it all. When he catches me looking, he winks. I'm losing control of the situation and fast. My earlier power trip has all but vanished.

  I turn my concentration to one of the white pillar candles in front of me. When I breathe in, the light flickers. I can feel the tiny warm wave of energy pass through me. I take a deeper breath; the candle flickers and goes out. I feel a hand brush gently against my knee. When I look up I expect to meet Lex's gaze; instead I find him concentrating intently on the plate of blood sausage in front of him, his lips twisted up at the corner. My heart swells and taps a quick dance in my chest.

  The dinner passes without too much incident. It turns out my dining companions aren't much for conversation and I'm a terrible hoste
ss anyway. I choke down as much of the heavy food as I can, but I end up drinking more than I eat. When we all stand to head to the parlor for coffee Rodger has to grab my elbow to steady me. He gives me a lecherous glance before I yank my arm away.

  I feel Lex at my side, almost instantly, waiting to lead me. I pull away from him too. Four-inch Louboutins take skill to walk in sober, and I'm drunk and out of practice. Before I can reach the doors I trip over my own feet. Ezra beats Lex to the punch, gently grabbing my upper arm. His hand slides down to meet mine; I feel his touch burn my skin through the lacey fabric the whole way down. When he takes my hand the world tilts sideways and it has nothing to do with alcohol. Ezra doesn't let go until we're all in the parlor and I'm safely deposited on a pale pink silk covered settee; even then he seems reluctant to withdraw.

  I can feel Lex's eyes burning into me from across the room. The booze and the heat from Ezra's touch has me reeling. An untapped rage is slowly building from a fizzle to a rolling boil just beneath the surface of my skin. I reach up and pull the few slender bobby pins from my hair causing it to tumble down past my shoulders. I stand back up and stretch leisurely, ignoring the various looks in the room. I'm beginning to feel restless so I ignore the coffee and head to yet another bar cart- this place is full of them- to fix myself a drink. This time I go for vodka, straight up.

  Lex clears his throat loudly. I glance at him over my shoulder and give him a flirty little smile before continuing to fix my drink. When I'm finished, I walk over to where Ezra is sitting on the settee and perch on the arm. As I take a sip of the burning liquid, I sneak a peek at Lex. He isn't looking at me, but a small smile plays on his lips. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he looks up. I cross my legs causing my hem to ride up a few inches; a few inches that it can't really spare. Lex's eyes widen slightly and he looks away again.

  "So," Rodger says loudly, breaking the tense silence, "how have you been enjoying the states, Matilde?"

  "It's lovely." Mattie looks up briefly from her lap before her eyes drop. Her lack of self-confidence is almost painful to watch.

  "What my sister means to say, is that we are very grateful for Ms. Price's generosity. The last week has been a welcome reprieve." Ezra gives us a breathtakingly beautiful smile and lands his gaze on me.

  I start to flush but then what he said cuts through the gin soaked haze in my brain and distracts me from how good-looking he is. "The last week?"

  Ezra's smile widens, as if he knows exactly what his words mean to me. I level a glare at Lex before turning back to Ezra; the previously untapped rage is now flowing freely. I'm going total crazy girl and I'm not doing anything to stop it.

  "Yes," Ezra replies with another devastating smile. "Ms. Price has been gracious enough to take us on a tour of the Northeastern states. Maine was particularly lovely but, I have to say, not as lovely as Price."

  I scoff without trying to hide it. "I'm sure you haven't seen enough of it." Rodger gives me a shocked look so I clear my throat and continue, "What I mean to say, is you haven't seen enough of it to make a fair and accurate assessment, I'm sure."

  Ezra beams at me and laughs. "Ms. O'Fion, the last two days have given us plenty of time to experience Price to the fullest."

  It's my turn to look shocked. "Two days?" I choke, my question directed at Lex. I finally understand the meaning of "seeing red."

  Lex shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand before answering.

  "Yes. We arrived in Price two days ago," Lex replies.

  "I thought my grandmother arrived today," I snap back.

  "She did." I can hear in his voice his silent plea for me to "calm down" and "we'll talk about this later," but I'm too drunk and too mad to take the high road. I cock an eyebrow and wait for him to continue, which he does after an awkward beat.

  "Ms. Price arrived today. The Holloways have had the pleasure of hosting us since we arrived."

  I feel my features go blank. Lex has been in Price for two whole days and hasn't made any attempt to contact me. And what's worse is that he's been holed up with my unofficial mortal enemy. A deep chill runs through me; it's heightened by Ezra's presence at my side. Where Lex seems to continually emanate a soft and steady calm, shadows and barely controlled power seems to cling to Ezra. It's too abstract for me to be able to focus on and being drunk doesn't help. I shake the hollow, edgy feeling off the best I can and stand to leave.

  Lex stands, too, but makes no move to stop me. What I want to do is go upstairs, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next two days until I know I can confront him in a somewhat rational manner. Instead, I stroll out of the room, summon Anders who is there waiting in the wings, and ask him to drive me somewhere once I know where that somewhere is.

  Anders goes to get a car ready and I head upstairs and grab my cell phone. Without giving myself time to think, I pull up Jessie's number and shoot her a text. "Where's it at?" is all I need to say. Within seconds Jessie is sending me the details for a party at a summerhouse on the edge of town. I leave my room and nearly smack into Lex.

  "Evan." He says my name in that way of his, like a whispered prayer to a pagan god. The gin still clouds my perception but the sight of Lex cuts right through the haze. I give him the best smile I can manage, but I can't quite keep the pain from my eyes. I watch as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth.

  I tear my eyes away before I can cave completely. "Lex. I'd stay and chat, but I have plans."

  "Oh?" he asks with a hint of a grin in his voice. He can see straight through me.

  "Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me," I say gesturing for him to move aside.

  "Please, Evan," he pleads softly, stopping me with a gentle touch to my shoulder. I can feel the heat flow between us, but I'm too angry to acknowledge it.

  "Please? Please what, Lex?" I ask, all the fight stripped from my voice.

  "Let me explain..."

  "No," I say simply.

  "No?"

  "That's what I said. I don't want to hear your explanations. I don't want to know why you haven't contacted me in over two months, or why you didn't bother telling me you were back in town, or why you showed up with Hansel and Gretel..."

  "Ezra and Matilde."

  "Jesus, whatever. I don't have time for this. Get out of my way, or I'll make you. You know I can."

  Lex's eyebrows shoot up. He looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or to get angry in return. I don't give him time to make up his mind. My cellphone buzzes in my hand as I wobble down the hallway and then the stairs. Anders is waiting at the bottom, eyeing me with a distinct wariness.

  I saunter past him and through the front doors as they are opened by yet another set of identically dressed maids. I can feel Lex watching me leave from the top of the staircase. I don't turn around and I don't miss a step. Anders hurries around me and opens the back seat door to a sleek black sedan.

  "Uhm. What?" I say brilliantly. This whole night just got a hell of a lot weirder. It was crazy enough that Anders just agreed to drive me someplace without giving me the third degree, but acting like some sort of servant instead of bossing me around is too much.

  Anders clenches his jaw and then laughs. "Yeah, well, new orders."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Go on."

  "When Ms. Price is out of town, we're to consider you the lady of the house," Anders answers reluctantly.

  "Again, what?"

  Anders opens his mouth to answer, but I interrupt him.

  I shake my head. "Nevermind. Fuck it. I'm too drunk to process. Take me here." I show him the address Jessie texted to me and then slide into the backseat of the car. Anders shuts the door behind me and takes his position in the driver's seat. As we pull away from the house, the growing darkness swallows us up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jessie still hasn't showed. I dodge stares and down jungle juice to distract myself from how alone here I really am. Anders trails me like a Secret Service agent but I don't bother telling him not to. This who
le "lady of the house" thing is totally working out: Anders leaves me alone, because I'm suddenly allowed to do whatever I want. I don't trust this, of course, but I'm willing to milk it for as long as I can.

  "Don't you think you've had enough?"

  I eye Anders over the lip of the red cup I'm draining. "Nope." He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything else. "Hey, have a drink." I hold out a fresh cup teaming with the red sickly sweet liquid. He just shakes his head.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Have a drink. That's an order." Anders bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He takes the cup and I can't help but smile. I've moved past my anger at Lex and have now entered that rare, perfectly happy state of drunkenness.

  Music pulses through the airy house and I let myself be pulled along. After a while, girls stop giving me dirty looks and the boys start to flirt with me. I dance with a few, but none of them really interest me. I still want Lex. He's like a poison I can't and won't drain from my system.

  I spot Anders being chatted up by a perky blonde. He's drinking heavily from what I suspect isn't his first cup. He catches my eye and gives me a slow sexy smile. The blonde glances at me and her face falls. I turn away and lose myself to the heavy beat of the music, my hips and shoulders gyrating in time. It isn't long before I feel Anders come up behind me, his arms snaking around my waist, his own hips matching the pace of mine. It turns out that we communicate better when we’re not speaking.

  My heart hammers against my chest. Even before our conversation earlier I had begun to suspect that Anders had feelings for me that weren't quite professional, and now I can feel them pressing into my back. It's wrong not to stop this, but I don't. His breath pours onto my neck, hot and fast. When his lips press to the curve of my neck an electric shock shoots through me that has nothing to do with my necklace.