Fire: The Elementals Book One

by Gilbert, L. B.

  For a long moment, Gia was silent. “We haven’t done that for years.”

  “And the supernatural community is slipping away—especially if we are right that this black circle is led by a witch descended from one of the major families. And someone this talented has to be from one of the big seven,” Diana said.

  “If it’s another Delavordo, I’m going to bust someone up. Bad,” Gia said with a rare show of irritability.

  “I know they’re at the top of the list of usual suspects, but enough black has come from the other six to avoid jumping to conclusions,” Diana said reasonably. “Besides, the Delavordos keep track of their remnant talent a lot better these days. They’ve kept a fairly low profile for decades now.”

  “Only because they don’t want us coming down on them as hard as we did the last time. And because being shunned by the supernatural community does limit your social options.” Gia sniffed before returning to her old reasonable self. “We should discuss this with the others. It would be the first time for you and Logan, and it will depend on what you find when you catch up with the circle.”

  “I know, but if it’s the worst, then we should be prepared,” Diana said, reaching out to touch the candle flame with her finger.

  “Agreed. And you’re right. An example outside the first degree of culpability hasn’t been made for so long. The vampires would remember, I guess, but most of the current gen of witches and Weres weren’t around the last time,” Gia pointed out. “Memories like those fade into myth fast because people who don’t witness it firsthand don’t believe it happened in the first place. And those that did deny their involvement. Maybe it is time for a refresher.”

  “Yeah,” Diana agreed. “Oh, hey, can you look into something else for me?” she said, remembering the bee brooch. “Someone in the circle has an antique pin thing, a bee or something like it. Art Deco period. Can you see if there’s a vibration for something like that?

  “If the stones in it are real, then maybe. I’ll see what I can do,” Gia promised. “I’ll mention it to Logan as well.”

  Diana said goodbye and blew out the candle. She peeked in the direction of Alec’s cottage. No man shaped heat signature was stirring. Closing the curtain, she pulled back the covers on the luxurious bed, sinking down into the mattress with a satisfied wiggle.

  It was kind of nice knowing that when she woke, Alec would be there. Of course, she would set fire to a whole block before admitting that she liked having him around.

  19

  Hours later, Diana was standing over a slumbering Alec. He was out. He hadn’t stirred at all when she’d come inside his room. Not even his chest was moving, but that was probably because of the whole being dead thing.

  It was actually a very nice chest, not unlike the kind Abercrombie used to have standing outside their stores. She’d never been this close to one actually.

  Alec had also stripped down to his shorts, a silky looking boxer brief thing that hugged his hips. The sheet was thrown carelessly over the good parts. She decided to wake him up before she got tempted to move the fine Egyptian cotton away.

  With a regretful sigh, Diana put her hand on Alec’s bare arm. He woke with a start, sitting bolt upright with vampiric speed.

  “Told you it would work,” she said, averting her eyes from his chest now that he was conscious. “Sorry, I had to give you a little jolt.”

  “You mean an electric jolt? Is that part of the fire gift?” he asked blinking rapidly before getting up and pulling on his pants.

  Diana shrugged. “It’s one way to start a fire.”

  Alec’s eyes widened. “Do you shoot electricity out like Zeus?”

  “Not exactly, although there was at least one past Fire Elemental who developed that skill,” she said, peeking in the mirror as he put on a fresh shirt.

  It was a very nice chest. It could be tanner, but vampires, even the Daywalkers apparently, didn’t spend a lot of time sunbathing. Diana couldn’t really complain, though. Redheads didn’t tan, either.

  “Can you develop different aspects of your talent and not others?” he asked as he finished putting on his shoes.

  “Sort of,” she said, turning back around now that he seemed to be fully dressed. She squinted, trying to crush the mental image of that chest hidden underneath pristine white cloth. “Did you get in touch with your people?”

  “Yes. They’ll be looking for anything on the whereabouts of the circle and on that brooch. It would help if we found someone more observant that took a good look at that pin. Then we could get a sketch made to pass around to some jewelers. I’ve got Daniel on that,” he said, wrapping a fresh tie around his neck.

  “Sounds good. I’ve got Earth and Air checking in with their sources, too,” she said.

  “Sources?”

  “Their element,” Diana replied, wondering how much she could trust him.

  “How does that work?” he asked.

  With a sigh, she decided to take the leap. He was too intelligent to share their secrets with the wrong people or in some wordy monograph. And Gia was right. She could use a friend.

  “They listen to their element. Air hears the things whispered on the wind. And Earth can. . .well, it’s like she can hear the echoes in the earth. Like memories. Neither is truly reliable, but a surprising amount of information can be found that way,” Diana said.

  She didn’t mention communing directly with the Mother. It was a difficult and potentially damaging thing to attempt, and so far Gia was the only one who’d successfully done it.

  “Can you do that?” he asked.

  “No. Fire has no memory,” she said simply, waiting as he pulled out a jacket.

  “Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense since it’s ephemeral. Except maybe at volcanoes. Are you immune to lava?”

  Diana laughed. “Since I’ve never jumped into a volcano, I don’t actually know. Believe it or not, it’s never come up before. Where are we going for dinner? I’ve had some good take-out in this town.”

  “No, no, no!” Alec said loudly, startling her. “Fine dining in New Orleans is beyond. . .well, it’s simply beyond. There is no excuse for eating take-out here as a visitor. It should only be a restaurant or starvation,” he said, arms wide for emphasis.

  “You’re a vampire. You barely eat,” she said in an incredulous tone.

  “Which is why my word on this should be highly valued. If you can only consume a little bit at a time, it damn well better be good,” he said with a warm smile.

  “Fine. So what’s for dinner?”

  He stopped short. “There’s a restaurant called Broussard’s here, but since you haven’t been out to dinner here before, I opted for a classic, Antoine’s.”

  “I think I’ve heard of it,” Diana replied as they made their way into the courtyard.

  “Yeah, it’s always mentioned in books about New Orleans and highlighted on tourist websites,” Alec said. “We could go someplace else if you like.”

  “No, it’s okay if we can get in. But we could try the Broussard place too if you want. Are they related in some way?”

  “Yes, but they don’t know it. It’s a branch of the family where the ability to turn died out ages ago. We don’t keep in touch. Family, even distant family, outside the community is too tricky to deal with since we can’t be honest with them about what we are,” he said.

  “Yeah, I guess that would be problematic.”

  Guess there are advantages to not having a family.

  Alec ushered her toward the luxury car he had waiting for them. This one was a shiny black Ferrari convertible he chose to drive himself.

  “Little mid-life crisis, isn’t it?” she asked trying not to laugh, even though she really liked the 458 Spider in this color.

  “Says the woman with a Suzuki Hayabusa,” he teased.

  “Hey, that’s for speed,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she climbed into the car.

  “So is this,” Alec argued as he revved the engine, making her laugh out
loud.

  By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Alec had covered the history of the Broussard’s in New Orleans and had gone into the history of Antoine’s restaurant. As she’d come to expect, they were ushered inside to a prime table as soon as they arrived.

  “This is the Mystery room,” he explained to Diana as he handed her a glass of wine. “I believe there is a hidden door in a ladies room somewhere that led to this space. People would get served alcohol in coffee cups here during prohibition.”

  Diana’s interest was immediately caught. “I like movies about that era, about Gangsters. I don’t like them in real life, of course, but as fiction, they’re okay.”

  “Me, too. I met Capone once.”

  “Really?” It was her turn to be fascinated. “What was he like?”

  “He was charming and utterly ruthless. It was at a party in Chicago. There were a number of colorful characters wandering around in those days. I was attracted to the atmosphere, people partying despite the blue laws. Those little illicit rebellions.” He shook his head and smiled. “The little rebellions are so much more enjoyable than the big ones,” he finished, his gaze growing distant and unfocused.

  Determined to keep it light, Diana narrowed her eyes. “Were you studying them like an anthropologist?”

  “In a way, I suppose,” he admitted ruefully as he focused on her again. “But I did partake in the parties myself. A real anthropologist wouldn’t get involved in that way.”

  “I don’t think that was always true,” she said.

  “It was for me when I was working,” he said with a smile. “I knew some of those other types. Men who staged fake rituals among primitive peoples so they could write about them. I did not approve.”

  “Staged rituals like Krippendorf’s tribe type stuff?”

  “Yes, only worse. Not exactly the right note for dinner conversation, though,” Alec said, turning the conversation to New Orleans history and legends of the supernatural tied to the city. He was one of those who maintained that the city was special.

  “I feel different here,” he confessed.

  Diana pursed her lips. “Our kind feels the same everywhere. New Orleans is a nice place but not extraordinary to us, because we feel her magic everywhere.”

  It was almost the complete truth.

  “And you don’t feel even a special tingle here? Or Stonehenge? The Pyramids?” He prodded as he poured her more wine.

  “Not really. Some awe, of course. A sense of history. I like ancient ruins. To some extent, we can superimpose our own history over some of those sites. But I don’t often get a chance to do that kind of thing. No time to stop and smell the roses.”

  He nodded. “I imagine you are kept busy. What happens after?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, swirling her wine the way she had seen him do before sipping it.

  “After your service to Her ends?” he asked.

  The question caught Diana off guard. She knew what happened in most cases. . .but didn’t think it applied to her. Thankfully the arrival of the waiter saved her from answering.

  “You have to have the Oysters Rockefeller. It was invented here,” Alec suggested.

  “I was thinking shrimp remoulade. Why don’t you get the Oysters?” Diana asked.

  “I decided on the alligator soup,” he said absently as he studied the menu.

  “Oh, so it’s like that,” she whispered with a little head nod.

  “Like what?” he said, putting the menu down to look her in the eyes.

  “Predator eats predator. Dog eat dog,” Diana teased cheekily, resting her chin on her hands. “In a fight between you and the movie Predator, who would win?”

  “Why don’t you bring us the shrimp remoulade and the oysters,” Alec said dryly to their waiter, who rushed away to fill their order.

  “I agree. Predator would totally kick your ass,” she said, leaning back and nodding sagely.

  “Don’t think I don’t know you’re avoiding my question,” he replied, shaking out his napkin with a snap and laying it in his lap with a flourish.

  “And I’m going to keep avoiding it,” she agreed with a cheerful nod, reaching for her wine.

  Diana continued evading talk of the future well into her main entree, fried crabs with almonds. It was delicious, once she figured out the best way to eat it. Seafood was not as common in take-out form, and she was enjoying the novelty.

  Thank god for a Fire Elemental’s metabolism or she’d be hard pressed to squeeze into her leathers at this rate.

  They were both eating the cinnamon and raisin bread pudding before Alec managed to return to the topic of life after service. “You do get to stop sometime, don’t you? I mean, you guys age out eventually?”

  She took a deep breath and thought about what to say. “This isn’t going in some manuscript, is it?”

  Alec frowned and leaned closer. “I may ask questions like I’m interviewing you, but you know I’m not, right? It’s not about that. Your kind. . .you’re the answer to a lot of questions I’ve had my whole life. But our friendship means more to me than getting those answers. If you want me to stop asking you things about the Elementals, I’ll stop, all right? Just say the word.”

  Diana thought about it. He sounded so earnest, and she knew he was telling the truth. And he was already claiming friendship so easily, like it was a normal thing.

  Maybe it is normal.

  She leaned back in her chair. “We don’t age out exactly. While we serve, everything slows down. You pretty much stay the same until you decide to leave her service. Then another is called. You can spend years or centuries doing her work. It’s up to you.”

  Alec’s eagerness was palpable. “How long have you been in service?”

  “About a decade.”

  “Oh. That would mean you’re roughly late twenties. Okay. I’m only two hundred years older. There’s nothing creepy or weird about that,” he said, tugging on his tie a little too hard.

  Enjoying his discomfort, she added, “It’s more like two hundred and thirty years. How many generations is that? If I’m gen Y does that make you generation A? Or did they use something before letters? Roman numerals maybe? Are you generation XXII?”

  Picking up the gauntlet, he took a big sip of wine before asking, “Why do most Elementals leave the service? It’s a great honor, after all. Is it simply too exhausting? Do you burn out?”

  “Good fire pun,” she acknowledged with a snort. “Sometimes we do. Or Elementals leave when they want to settle down. They decide to start families or they meet someone. . .”

  “Does the meeting someone not usually happen first?” he asked.

  Diana pursed her lips and rested an elbow on the table. “Elemental lines are matrilineal. And the women who inherit are. . .strong,” she said euphemistically. “They don’t always feel the need to include a father in the picture. Making sure the line continues is important. It’s not always a direct line of inheritance, but the gift frequently circles back when it strays. And some lines just die out and others are born. Like the vamps and the witches.”

  “But only one inherits a specific Element at a time? Why? Does the Mother worry you all wield too much power?” he asked, waving a hovering waiter away with an elegant gesture.

  Startled at his perception but refusing to show it, she avoided his eyes. “There are probably various reasons that are equally valid. Too much firepower at one time in the same family would be a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “But your families are still practitioners, right? They still have magic?”

  Diana expelled her breath loudly, rubbing her temple. She was taking a lot on faith, but she did eventually answer. “Some do, not all, and not the same brand of magic as everyone else. More tied to nature. But most know and feel a connection to the Mother. The history gets passed down pretty succinctly in most cases.”

  “In most cases. Did it get passed down your family?”

  “No,” she said curtly and looked aw
ay.

  Alec apparently saw the flashing warning lights ahead and veered away. He gestured to her now empty dish. “Are you through?”

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here. I’m kind of talked out,” she said, fighting to maintain a tranquil expression.

  Wordlessly, they exited the restaurant and walked out into the night air. The French Quarter was busy at all hours. Though she didn’t feel that mystical pull others felt here, she acknowledged that this place was unique. It had a little something extra. What did they call it? Lagniappe. No city she’d visited in Europe had this feel—light and dark blending with music and spice. It had a look and feel that was not European, and definitely not American.

  “You do like this place, don’t you?” Alec asked, watching her face closely as they walked along the cobblestone streets.

  “It has its charms,” she said noncommittally.

  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed dinner. I did, what I could finish anyway.” He sighed wistfully. “I miss food. It’s not fashionable to admit, but I do. I tried a stint in a cordon bleu academy in France fifty or so years ago. I thought the next best thing to getting to eat it would be to prepare it,” he said, falling into step beside her, his hands in his pockets.

  “You do seem very enthusiastic about food, considering your primary source of nutrition,” she said wryly.

  “You would be enthusiastic, too, if you couldn’t eat any solid foods for decades after you were turned,” Alec replied in complete seriousness.

  “Yeah, I heard that’s what happens. Most of your kind don’t bother to go back to solids from what I hear.”

  “Oh, that’s only vampire image hype,” he said dismissively. “All of us eventually start eating again. We miss the sensory experience of chewing too much. You simply don’t get to enjoy full and robust meals anymore. Just little tastes.”

  “Don’t you need blood soon?” she asked, trying to hide her discomfort at having to ask and failing utterly.