The Elementals Collection

by L. B. Gilbert

  Her heart didn’t calm until she was on the shore sitting on the lava rocks, her feet in the water at the island’s only cove.

  That was where Diana found her later. She sat down next to her, her presence silently comforting. “No one blames you.”

  Serin stared off at the horizon. “Everyone blames me—my father, my mother. All the elders. They say if I’d given up my position by now, Jordan wouldn’t have done what he did.”

  Di put her arm around her, something Serin usually did to her, but only when she thought her sister needed it. The Fire Elemental wasn’t a big toucher.

  “You don’t really believe he did it, do you?” Diana asked.

  “Gia thinks he did. So does Logan.”

  The Earth and Air Elementals were still following leads, trying to trace their missing artifacts, but both had been blunt about their suspicions before they’d found the body. Once they had, his note only confirmed their suspicions.

  “You don’t buy it, though.” Diana seemed certain.

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  Diana shifted, rocking them both slightly. “Yes, you do. You think he’s innocent and his death was a frame-up.”

  Serin sighed. “I’m not sure. Jordan might have facilitated the theft. He had the access and knowledge. He’s been accompanying me on missions for years. Many of the missing artifacts are those I recovered recently. But if he did…then what John suspects may be true. Someone made him.”

  “If that’s true, who would it be? Who could get to an Elemental’s mate?”

  It was an excellent question.

  Serin picked up a stone, then sent it sailing over the water. It skipped over a dozen times before sinking. “I don’t know. All I keep hearing is what John is repeating—that Jordan wouldn’t leave me. That he loved me.”

  “He did love you.”

  Blinking, Serin turned to her sister. A corner of Diana’s lips pulled down knowingly.

  “I didn’t talk to the man much, but the few times I was around him, he, well, he was being Jordan. Needy and a bit whiny, but demonstratively affectionate in a way that was weird to me before I met Alec.” She put her hand on Serin’s shoulder. “Jordan was always telling you he loved you. I would have known if he were lying.”

  That was true. But it didn’t make her feel any better. There were so many things she could have said, but Serin chose the most expedient, the truth. “I wish I could say I was certain he’d been coerced, but I can’t. I’m in the dark. I have been about this whole affair. I keep thinking I should have seen it coming, known he was in trouble and needed help.”

  “Well, there’s a lot we haven’t seen lately,” Diana said with a tightening of her lips.

  She was right. A black coven had risen in their midst, and they’d been none the wiser. The reason was disquieting.

  Elementals were intricately tied to the world and what happened in it. The Mother had designed it that way. They were charged with keeping the balance, the ever-shifting dance between good and evil. Too much bad and the wheels that turned the world as they knew it began to slow and stop. It was their job to make sure that didn’t happen. Through their actions, they kept Atabey, the Mother of them all, happy and healthy. She, in turn, gave life to the world.

  Theoretically, an unbalance in the other direction was possible. Too much good and the balance would be threatened—in theory. Funnily enough, that hadn’t ever been a problem for them. No, the ever-shifting tide was always in one direction.

  “With the Mother falling asleep, it’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Serin said.

  They had all noticed Her inattention. In years past—long before Serin’s time—Atabey had fallen asleep. It was cyclical. These long, terrible periods were characterized by an uptick in natural disasters and violence.

  Diana frowned. “That’s not the Serin I know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as cynical as the next bitch, but now that we know there’s a problem, we’re going to fix it. Between the four of us, there’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  She leaned back with an involuntary yawn. “Listen to me being upbeat. I think we pulled a Freaky Friday personality swap. I don’t know when I became such a fucking Pollyanna.”

  Serin couldn’t resist a little smirk. “I think it was shortly after you met Alec.”

  Shrugging, her sister snorted. “You may be right,” she admitted with a surprising lack of argument.

  Diana tilted her head up, checking the angle of the moon in the way they were trained to tell time. “Speaking of Mister Fanged and Fabulous, I better go check on him to make sure he’s eaten one of the blood bags we brought along. The last thing I need is for him to lose track of time… then realize he’s hungry around the archivists.”

  “He won’t eat one of them.” Alec was old enough to resist the urge to snack.

  “I know that, but they don’t. And as much as I like Noomi, she’s the only one of the lot with balls. If you even glance at one of the others cross-eyed, they run for cover.”

  “They only run from you, and only because you set that junior archivist’s robes on fire.”

  Diana tsked. “It was his notepad. And he was the one who decided to try to put it out with his robe instead of stamping it out with his boot like a normal person.”

  Rising, Diana eyed Serin with a frown. “You’re going to leave again the first chance you get, aren’t you?”

  It was more of a suggestion than a question.

  “As soon as we have another viable lead, I am.” It was that or stay in the bosom of her family. Serin didn’t think she could take more of her parents’ rigid and restrained comforting.

  Her sister shook her head. “If I had to bite my tongue around those old council farts the way you do, I’d be out of here like a shot, too. But the elders made it clear—Alec can’t stay unless I’m here with him, and we need him down in the archives now.”

  “Yes, they’re not too trusting at the moment.”

  “They were like that before the theft. Renown scholar or not, there’s no way they would have let a vampire have access under any circumstances if he wasn’t my mate.”

  She had a point. “Thank Alec for his help again.”

  Serin had done so briefly, right after she arrived, but with the demands of the council and her extended family, there hadn’t been time for a deep conference.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’d have given his right nut for access to the archive, and now he has it without begging or jumping through the Elder’s endless hoops. He’s as happy as a pig in muck.”

  That picture clashed with the mental image Serin had of the debonair and handsome vamp. “Thank him anyway. And if he finds something that needs to be checked out immediately…”

  Something that would give her an enemy to take down and hopefully maim. She owed Jordan that much.

  Diana held up a hand. “I know, I know. You have dibs.”

  4

  The paintings that graced the walls of Serin’s childhood home were snippets of an ever-shifting ocean. The white-washed walls of the central living room were the perfect backdrop for the stormy seascapes. Most her mother painted, but here and there one by her father was slipped in, almost indistinguishable in terms of style or execution. Nevertheless, Serin always knew which ones they were. She was the only one who could tell them apart.

  The paintings were different each time she visited, despite being relentlessly the same. She used to love the stormy seascapes best, but they had lost something now. They were a pale imitation of the very real memories she had of being one with the raging sea, formless and far from any boat or landmass.

  The newest picture dominated the living room wall. Serin traced a textured whitecap on the oil painting’s surface. For a moment, the roar of churning sea filled her ears, but the antique grandfather clock chimed the hour and the noise ceased. She crossed the room, stepping over the stream that ran through the floor without looking, long years of muscle memory taking over. The reflected l
ight bouncing off the water danced in greeting.

  She loved this house, with its softly rounded walls and organic flow. The architecture was typical of the island. In appearance, the buildings were more reminiscent of Greek island architecture than the wooden cottages typical of this part of the world, but T’Kaieri was unique. The island developed its own distinctive culture and customs over the centuries, preserved by its self-imposed isolation.

  Serin moved to the formal dining room, noting the four elaborate table settings complete with finger bowls. Her stomach tightened. Leaving a space for the dead was a part of island heritage, but only to honor those long dead. The spirits of the recently departed were too mercurial and confused to be acceptable company at her family’s table. That meant her parents were expecting John.

  Had he not told them he was leaving? Or had he delayed his departure? With or without him, this promised to be an uncomfortable meal.

  So many questions floating in this room, unspoken. Why hadn’t she known Jordan was in trouble?

  Anger and suspicion warred with guilt, but she wasn’t given time to dwell. Her parents walked in, still wearing their formal council robes.

  “Serin, my child.” Her mother floated in a cloud of orange-pink silk, a sunset in dress form.

  Dalasini held out her arms, and Serin dutifully leaned down so her mother could embrace her. She bussed her mother’s cheek before doing the same to her father. They sat as Joon, their long-time servant, brought in the dishes.

  Dalasini helped Joon serve before dismissing her to join her own family. Her father delivered a brief prayer to the Mother before bowing his head. When he raised it, he picked up his fork.

  “John will not be joining us,” Caimen said when Serin hesitated, glancing at the empty setting. “This…situation…has been very hard on him. He wasn’t feeling up to sharing our meal.”

  “Did he tell you he was leaving?”

  “Yes. It’s understandable under the circumstances.”

  They proceeded to eat. The silence stretched so long Serin was beginning to think she would escape unscathed, but she was wrong.

  When the meal was over, Dalasini began by catching Serin’s father’s eye. He cleared his throat and began the long litany of prayers, an homage to their ancestors who carried the blessing of the Mother—the other Water Elementals of her line. There were four in Serin’s lineage, which made her Elemental royalty to some. When she’d been chosen to serve, it had been a surprise to no one, except perhaps her own parents.

  Caimen ended his speech with a prayer for Jordan’s soul.

  Taking a deep breath, Serin closed her eyes.

  “Serin,” her mother began.

  “I’m not retiring.”

  “Why do you assume I was going to bring up retiring?” Dalasini asked.

  She bit back a sigh. “Because it’s what you always want to talk about whenever I come home.”

  “There are less than ten years left in your term,” Caimen began.

  “And you think I should give up my position. Let another take over so I can focus on building a family.” She set down her napkin with care, resisting the urge to throw it on the table. “Because developing the next generation is as important as serving the Mother. I’ve heard all this before, back when starting a family was an option. But my bonded is gone and his killer is out there, so forgive me for not wishing to discuss retirement just now.”

  Her extensive training masked her true emotions. “Every Water Elemental chosen from this island serves for a hundred years, no more, no less. Abdicating my position even one day early would be an insult to the Mother and bring disgrace to our family.”

  Dalasini and Caimen shifted in their seats, exchanging another wordless glance.

  “Under the circumstances, no one would judge you from stepping down before the term ends,” her mother suggested softly. “You need time to mourn.”

  Serin’s chin firmed. “What I need is to find out what happened to Jordan, and to find the missing artifacts.”

  Another pointed glance from her mother prodded her father to speak. “Of course,” he said. “And I’m confident you will do all that quickly. You’re a very talented girl. But if the rumors are true, then the Mother is falling asleep. If you step down now, there is time for a new Elemental to be chosen before the Mother is too deep in her slumber. You have to consider what is best for everyone.”

  So they were finally getting to it. They had urged her to step down before, but for more personal reasons, like settling down and starting a family. The suggestions had increased in regularity after being bonded to Jordan.

  “Is that the council’s official position?”

  The skin around Caimen’s eyes tightened. “I’m not speaking as the head of the council. I’m speaking as your father.”

  “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  Dalasini folded her hands tightly. “I don’t know why you have to get so hostile whenever we speak to you about this. We only want what’s best for you.”

  Serin’s lips drew down. “You’re contradicting yourself. You just admitted—finally—that it’s not me you’re concerned with, but the island’s heritage.”

  She glanced at each in turn. “Giving up my position guarantees another girl from this island will be chosen next, and not some random outsider. At least that’s how it’s always worked in the past. I’m sure the council is concerned the Mother will be unable to honor our peculiar habit of picking our own successor if she’s asleep. But all the signs point to her already slumbering, so it’s quite a gamble to ask me to retire now. In fact, if you wish to guarantee that the next Water Elemental is an islander, we may have to wait another century for her to wake. The more prudent members of the council would agree…unless, of course, they universally decide to condemn me for Jordan’s crime.”

  Her mother’s indrawn breath suggested she hadn’t considered those arguments. Her father’s face was stiff with irritation, but she couldn’t tell if it was with her or his wife. “We don’t even know if Jordan was responsible. And early retirement was only a suggestion—ours. Not the council’s.”

  His face softened. “You and the other Elementals are the island’s best hope for recovering its artifacts. Until those items are returned, or the people responsible are identified, there is no need to discuss this matter further.”

  “I still don’t see why she has to be the one to investigate this now,” her mother protested as her father rose from the table. “Others can handle it. Gia is very capable, for an Earth. Even the brash junior Elementals have proven to be up to the demands of the office, despite their questionable tastes in mates.”

  “Dalasini.” Her father’s tone was repressive. Sighing, he turned to back to Serin. “The council’s official position, as you put it, is to let you and the others do their job.”

  He threw his wife a pointed glance. “It’s not as if the decision is ours to make in any case. The Mother selected Serin and the others as her servants. We are only here to preserve Her legacy and, by extension, yours.”

  There was a long silence. Caimen inclined his head in a formal parting. “I wish you well in your hunt.”

  He left the room, leaving a dejected Dalasini staring at her plate.

  Serin waited for her mother to speak. Elemental lineages were usually matriarchal in nature, but in this house, Caimen always had final say. That didn’t mean Dalasini didn’t have more arguments up the sleeve of her diaphanous robe. She just needed time to decide on her approach.

  It was taking longer than Serin would’ve guessed. “How is your research going? Any progress on that new spell?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  Dalasini had been working on a spell that selectively dulled traumatic memories for years. She didn’t believe bad memories should be removed entirely. A person was shaped by their experiences, even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones.

  Her mother had been trying to alter the intensity of such events, without removing them entire
ly. There were a few practitioners who worked as therapists in the human world who were eagerly following her progress. But her mother didn’t want to discuss her work. She picked up her fork, proceeding to finish her meal in silence.

  “Mother, please. Let’s talk.”

  Her mother put her fork down before standing. “I’m afraid this isn’t a good time. I’m going to the temple to pray. Please let me know when you’re leaving so I can bid you goodbye. I assume it will be soon.”

  She swept out of the room, leaving Serin with a plateful of guilt. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples.

  Being chosen as an Elemental was an honor, something almost every girl on the island coveted. It was a source of pride to the families as well, but her parents’ reaction had been mixed at best. Dalasini’s especially.

  Serin had her ideas why, but it was conjecture on her part. Once she’d been bonded to Jordan, her parents’ attitude shifted. Now that he was gone, they were shifting again.

  She moved around the dining room, collecting plates so Joon wouldn’t find them sitting here in the morning.

  The sleeves of her gown kept getting in the way. She set the plates down, then wrapped her arms around herself. Like so many things on the island, her dress was about appearances. It was beautiful, but not functional.

  Her sisters wore close-fitting tops and a lot of leather in the job. It was a style Serin eschewed out of habit. But those types of clothes were better for fighting. And they certainly made a statement. They said, Don’t fuck with me.

  The archive door was shut, presumably to prevent thieves and intruders from entering.

  Too little, too late. She pushed it wide, closing it behind her. I wonder who opens it for the archivists. They were all practitioners, of course, but spells for super strength were onerous. Maybe Alec opens it for them. Vampires weren’t as strong as Elementals, but they could manage the door. And Alec was a conscientious man, all things considered.