That was so not what I had expected him to say, not that I had anything specific in mind. I literally laughed out loud. “You think?”
He grinned. “I do. But guess what?”
“What?”
“I can warm it up…” He grabbed my burger in both hands, brought it to his lips and pretended he was taking a bite, then handed it back to me. Hot. I was lucky I couldn’t feel the actual heat, or I might’ve dropped it.
I was pretty sure my elemental amazement would never cease, especially where fire was concerned. I felt like it brought me closer to my mom, and closer to who I was meant to be, or something. It wasn’t that I resented my father. I still loved him wholeheartedly, and that would never change. I just wished he would have been…different.
“You’re pretty fantastic,” I said as I took a steaming bite.
“I’ve heard that a time or two before,” he muttered haughtily before taking a bite of his own burger. His grin was pure tongue-in-cheek, and a mile wide—contagious, too; I couldn’t help but flash my pearly whites in return.
“Cocky son of a bitch,” I muttered.
He snorted and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve heard that, too.”
I chewed and swallowed. Took another bite, and repeated. Already, I was getting lost in my thoughts. “When will they be done with the interrogations?” I wondered out loud.
“Uh…” Chase shook his head obliviously. “No idea. They could be done right now, for all I know.”
Anxiety suddenly swarmed through my blood. “So, I might get summoned to my own interrogation any minute now?” I shoved my plate away, no longer hungry.
He shoved it back. “Eat. It’s fine. Whatever happens, you can’t live your life like you’re already dead. No worries, okay?”
“No worries? Easy for you to say!” I countered like a brat. “You’re not next in line for death row, or the insane asylum, or whatever!”
He smiled warmly. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat this, Val. That’s just not how I am, okay?” I nodded a little too lifelessly. Amused, he shook his head and carried on. “People die all the time. We don’t always understand why, but it happens just the same. We’re all gonna die eventually, so just live while you can.”
Oh, I liked that. Live while you can. “If I survive, can we get that in matching ink?”
“Shit yeah, we can!” he agreed, completely ignoring the implications of my impending doom. Then his smile grew roguish. “Now, on the other hand, if you do happen to get thrown into an asylum, rest at ease knowing that you have my word that I will bust your ass outta there, just as soon as I happen to find you.”
An ironic giggle bubbled out of me. “Those sound like impeccable odds.”
“They’re pretty great odds, yeah, I know.” The sarcastic banter was a welcome relief, short-lived as it was. “But seriously, Val…” He looked at me with a longing that I couldn’t quite place. “Don’t worry, okay? Things have a way of working themselves out, one way or another, and I know we’ll all be doing everything in our power to protect you.”
I knew if I thought about that a second longer I might cry. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, of course.”
His reassurance strummed a peaceful chord within me. Calm vibrations rippled throughout, soothing everything in their wake. I wasn’t going to die. I suddenly believed it in the very marrow of my bones. They would protect me. It would all be all right somehow.
We finished eating and Chase dropped me back off at school a half hour late.
Mr. Berwyn didn’t seem to care, seeing as how I’d be his student for nearly two hours, anyway—Creative Writing and Poetry—so that was pretty awesome. But, Cade wasn’t in class, and that was pretty worrisome.
In Painting, I finally finished my watercolor landscape, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the ones my mother used to create. One day I was going to have to stop comparing myself to her, to stop idolizing her, but that day wasn’t waiting on any horizon within sight.
Gym was next, and wasn’t that just a peach.
The class was coed, so I knew Holden wasn’t yet back. There were still a few people I knew, namely Charlene, Jay, Sienna, and Loren. Trisha Burbank, Jimmy’s bitch of a girlfriend from lunch. Benjamin Jacobson, Avenelle’s quiet boyfriend from Advanced Chem. And Sharon Kessler, Loren’s little minion from homeroom.
That day was field hockey, and Coach Peterman was kind enough to make Loren and me opposing team captains.
“Moore, jerseys! Marlowe, plain tees! Captains, choose your teams. Starting with Valerie. Go!”
I took a deep breath. “Charlene.”
Loren scoffed. “Sharon.”
“Jay.”
“Benjamin.”
“Sienna,” I said.
“Trisha,” she replied.
It was like she was doing it on purpose, specifically choosing people who would clash the hardest. We rattled off names until the entire class was split in two. Then Coach Peterman blew his whistle.
“All right, plain tees get the ball first!” he said. “Let’s see what you guys got!”
Sports weren’t exactly my forte, but competition definitely was. I might not have been the fastest runner, had the longest endurance, made the smartest plays, or moved the ball the best, but damned if I didn’t try.
As a general rule, physical contact was frowned upon in high school gym class, but Peterman was a little lax on the rules, as long as there wasn’t blood flying.
Jay stayed in Benjamin’s face, but it was more of a cold war. Same with Charlene and Sharon. Sienna and Trisha were an interesting pair to watch, though. There were a number of times when I thought shit was going to absolutely hit the fan, only to have Trisha storm away at the last second.
Then there was Loren and me.
We’d pushed, shoved, and shit-talked, but it wasn’t the usual snide remarks we made just to get under the other’s skin. No, her words were heated, and hateful, and infuriating.
“This is your fault! I told you, Valerie. I told you to stay away from him! But did you? Noooo. And now, who knows what kind of trouble he’s in?”
I swallowed hard and tried to sound calm over the harshness of my breathing. We’d just gotten a point, tying up the game, and we were waiting for the ball to go back into play. “Screw you, Loren. None of this is my fault. If your people are that bat-shit crazy, he should’ve known to stay the hell away from me!”
“Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re not the very reason he’s being interrogated by his own damn parents?? What a two-faced bitch! So…what? You only play the side that’s winning? Who you gonna screw over now that you’ve screwed them both royally?”
The ball came blazing up the field and Loren snagged it, running like hell toward my team’s goalie. I wasn’t far behind, and I was fueled by rage, guilt, and aggression.
I caught her quickly, but instead of stealing the ball, I ran ahead of her, planted my feet, and bent over. She never even saw it coming. When her thighs rammed into my side, I lifted up and flipped her like a ragdoll. She was airborne for what seemed like a solid couple of seconds before smashing back-first into the torn up grass.
The impact had knocked the wind completely out of her, and I used that moment to strike. I curled my fingers, reared back, and jabbed my fist as hard as I possibly could into her face. This was nothing like our first fight when she’d caught me entirely off guard. This was retaliation.
Coach Peterman’s whistle sounded piercingly across the pitch, but I ignored it. She couldn’t get a good shot at me from that angle, so all she could do was block. I didn’t even care. As long as I was making painful bodily contact, it didn’t matter where my blows were landing.
Until she kicked my legs out from under me. Then she was the one with her fist sunk into my cheek.
Jay came blazing across the field like the wide receiver he was and immediately got between us. “What the hell, girls?” he shouted, glaring lividly between the two of us. “You really think this was the best move
you could have made, knowing full well the trouble we’re all in?”
“She started it!” Loren tattled, then literally spat blood out onto the grass.
“Grow up, Loren!” Jay roared. “This isn’t about the petty drama between you two! Your careless actions are affecting everyone’s consequences!”
I shot her a wary glance. She looked just as nervous as I was. I had never meant to bring anyone else’s fate into this malicious contention; I just wanted to vent, for crying out loud! But Chase was absolutely right: rule number one, keep your emotions in check.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered to Jay, because I’d be damned if I apologized to that bitch.
Coach Peterman appeared from behind Loren, a mixture of testosterone-fueled excitement and teacher-centric discipline warring on his face. “What the hell was that?” he asked us almost pleadingly. “Why? Someone explain this. Now!”
Jay took the initiative. “Just a defensive play gone wrong, Coach.”
Peterman cocked an eyebrow. “And the fists that went a-flyin’ afterward were just part of the plan, huh?”
Jay winced. “Not exactly, but it was all in the heat of the moment, you know? They just got a little carried away, but everything’s fine now. Right girls?”
Loren plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on. “Absolutely! Sorry Mr. Peterman. It won’t happen again.” She stood and reached a hand down to help me up.
I’d have rather chanced latching on to a venomous snake, but I clasped her hand and yanked myself up. “Thanks,” I said flatly. “Sorry Coach. We’re good now.”
“You’d better be!” he hissed. “No more of this. You understand me? Next time, it’ll be the office.” He spun on his heel and blew the whistle again. “It’s time to go! Gather the supplies and hit the locker room! Come on!”
My face was killing me.
I managed to make it through English, the last class of the day, without uttering a single word, despite the rumors that had been blazing like wildfire through the halls. Word of our little tiff had gotten around quicker than I could have imagined.
The walk home wasn’t necessarily peaceful, but it was silent, and I appreciated that, at least. I missed the consistency of the old routine, of walking and not-thinking. Nowadays there were too many things to think about that I’d frankly rather not.
So, I shut down.
I watched the glittery gold of my wedged sandals as they stepped, one shoe in front of the other, until I was almost trance-like. Keeping my emotions in check was a hell of a lot easier when I wasn’t thinking about anything.
Step, step. Step, step. Glitter, sparkle. Glitter, sparkle. On and on, and on and on.
Until, suddenly, stark awareness prickled the fringes of my consciousness. My eyes snapped back to reality and I gasped sharply, but it was already too late. A loud crack echoed through the woods, and I thought my skull might’ve split in two.
The pavement crushed my face before I even knew I was falling. Blood trickled from somewhere on my head and streamed over to a distorted pair of hideous hiking boots. My vision was blurring. The boots zoomed in and out of focus for a few seconds, before another loud crack reverberated through my mind.
Then, everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I don’t want to do this,” a woman whispered.
I could barely make it out. My blood was thrumming in my head like a steam engine, the cadence of it echoing painfully through my ears and in between. I thought my brain was about to explode.
“I don’t either, but there’s no other way,” a man hissed back.
“It’s medieval!” she argued. “Surely we’ve reached a point where there are more humane ways to handle such things?”
He scoffed, but nervously. “Do I look like a Modernist to you? And even if I was, there’d still be no other way. Modernists especially wouldn’t risk mass exposure.”
Silence.
Something lukewarm was streaming down my face…
“What the hell did you hit her with?” the woman asked softly.
“Just a tree limb.”
I tried to open my eyes and get a look at my captors, but the slightest twitch of my lids was like crushing my skull in a vise, and my brain didn’t need that kind of pressure.
She heaved a sigh. “How hard did you hit her, then? This water is freezing cold, and she’s not so much as flinching.”
Water. That’s what was now dripping off my nose and chin. Thank god it isn’t blood…
“I don’t know,” he grumbled timidly. “Not that hard.”
I wanted to laugh, even though it wasn’t humorous in the slightest. Just the thought of it sent a new wave of pain rolling through my mind, threatening to gag me. The agony was literally sickening.
Splash. A fresh waterfall cascaded onto my head, weaving through my hair and spilling down my face. It was clearly frigid, but as I couldn’t actually feel it, my response was lacking. I couldn’t decide if it was helping my headache or exacerbating it.
I was vertical, much to my surprise and discomfort, with my hands tied behind my back. A large wooden post jutted up behind me, so that my arms were sort of backward-hugging it, and my feet were laced to it like shoestrings. All of this I felt, because I hadn’t yet managed to force my eyelids open.
Someone was tapping their foot.
“Get the smelling salts, dear,” the woman said. “We’ve got a number of interrogations to conduct before the demonstration, and we’re running out of time.”
“Yeah, I hear ya,” he muttered, but he was farther away, retrieving the salts, no doubt.
His voice was oddly familiar, almost like I’d heard it before, but not quite like this. This was more casual than I remembered—if I was even remembering correctly. I’d never heard the woman’s voice before, though.
I took a feeble breath and split my eyelids open. My head was hanging limply, so that I was facing toward the ground. My eyes were immediately met with a stellar pair of red high heels that, in my current state of deathliness, I was unable to fully appreciate.
Wet hair shrouded my face like a layer of jungle foliage, so she wasn’t yet aware of my consciousness. I thought that was a good thing. The longer I could put off the inevitable, the—
I gasped sharply and instantly went into a coughing fit as I struggled for untainted air. She had swiped the salts under my nose so stealthily I hadn’t even noticed. Now I was dry heaving; the coughing had piqued the pain sensors which triggered the gag reflex.
The woman was at least kind enough to pull my hair back, but she quickly backed away.
The man cried, “She lives!” and dramatically raised his hands to the sky.
I glanced at him after my stomach stopped revolting. I didn’t know why I was so shocked; I knew he was the leader of the Traditionalists there in Center Allegheny, but still. Seeing Henrie Landston’s face staring at me was incredibly upsetting. He could’ve been Cade and Xavier’s older brother, but with more cunning and command.
The woman, with long, sleek, black hair and piercing blue eyes, must have been Henrie’s wife. Cade’s mother. She was stunning, but I couldn’t see any resemblance there at all.
What I could see, now that I was fully conscious, was my surroundings. The room was practically dripping in gold. Not the color, but the currency. Velvety plum curtains encased the tall picture windows. A tiered ceiling stepped up to a glittering crystal chandelier. Abstract paintings, most likely originals, hung with precision on the pale lavender walls. The floor consisted of meticulously placed stone tiles of various shapes and sizes that somehow fit together seamlessly.
“I’m Delaney,” she said, regaining my attention. “And this is Henrie. We have a few questions for you, Miss Moore.” The words were spoken calmly, a look of steely caution in her eye.
Every beat of my heart squeezed my brain tighter against my skull; it would surely crack soon. The throbbing echoed loudly in my ears and crawled across my skin, dimming my vision.
I didn’t reply, so she continued. “It has been brought to our attention that you know more than you should about our kind. How did you come across this knowledge?”
Cade’s story slid off my lips in a mild slur. “My mother. She was a Fire.” I shook my head slightly, but it blasted the pain down my spine. “She’s dead. It’s been years now.”
Delaney glanced grimly at Henrie. “How many years?”
I sighed shakily. “Seven.”
Henrie scribbled down my answers in a flip tablet. He asked, “What was your mother’s name?”
“Amelia Moore.”
“And your father’s name?” Henrie asked as he jotted down my mother’s.
“Jameson Moore.”
“Still living?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Elemental?”
“No.”
My hands were numb. The restraints were tied too tightly, and the position I was in didn’t help much with circulation. I tried to adjust myself against the pole, to sit up a bit and relieve some of the pressure, but it only exacerbated the pain.
“Mother’s maiden name?” Henrie asked without looking up.
“I don’t know it.”
He hesitated. “Any other Elemental family members?”
I narrowed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No.”
Delaney’s gaze bored a hole into my head through my eyes. She didn’t believe me. Panic swelled in my veins. As my heart beat faster, my brain squeezed tighter. Would this pain never end?
“Other Elemental family members,” she demanded. “Now.”
I wracked my brain for a smooth lie that just wouldn’t come. It was too late for smoothness, but not for a lie. If I could just think of something.
My head lashed to the side as her hand stung my cheek. Agony erupted through my system and my stomach hurled once more. Frothy spit and stomach acid spewed from my mouth and dripped onto the pretty stone-tiled floor.
“Elemental family members,” Henrie prodded softly.
I spit the nasty taste out of my mouth. “I don’t have any.”
The Essential Elements: Boxed Set Page 22
