Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  Through a window across the square, I spotted a girl in a white jacket disappear through a swinging door. I followed the hallway around the courtyard and followed her through the door. The smell of freshly baked bread just about floored me. Two girls in white aprons kneaded dough on a long wooden island. They looked up at me with surprise. One of them said something to me in Polish.

  "It smells good," I said, putting a hand over my stomach.

  "Hungry?" one of the girls asked, and I nodded. She beckoned me in. I followed her to a baker's rack and she pulled out a sheet of freshly baked biscuits.

  "Oh my God, you're amazing," I said, taking one. She grabbed a paper towel and wrapped up three more biscuits, putting the warm package in my hands. I thanked her repeatedly and she dimpled at me and ushered me towards the door. I went through, taking a bite of my prize and ran smack into Antoni.

  "Targa!" he said, grabbing my shoulders. Then he pulled me into a fierce hug. "My God. You can't imagine... Ow." He pulled back and put a hand on his chest just below his sternum.

  I caught myself before I apologized. He didn't know that I was responsible for his cracked ribs. "Are you ok?" I asked, around my bite of biscuit. "You should be in bed, what are you doing up?" I said, vaguely aware that I was talking with my mouth full, but also that I didn't care.

  "Pacing," he said, fiercely. "I've been doing laps, waiting until a decent hour to knock on your door."

  He scanned my face with a look of agony. He was pale and drawn and there were dark circles under his eyes. "And, no I'm not ok. I've been going out of my mind!" He hugged me again in spite of his rib. I was pretty sure the doc would have disapproved.

  I swallowed my bite of biscuit and inhaled deeply. The heady smell of him suddenly registered. I could smell his soap, but I could also smell him; his skin, his scent – the smell that was Antoni alone. My head spun. He was a tower of warmth surrounding me, his arms felt like hot iron, his chest like a solid wall of heat and muscle. My senses were full of him. Vertigo swept over me and I clung to him for balance.

  He took my hand and pulled me away from the kitchens. "Come on. We need to talk."

  Oh boy. "Can I eat something first? I'm famished." I was hungry, but I was also stalling for time because I was distracted by how attracted to him I felt. Where had that come from? My mind scrambled numbly to make sense of these new feelings.

  He noticed the baking in my hands. "That smells amazing. Yes, yes. Come on, we can eat in my suite. I have breakfast coming. 5:30 is the earliest I can have it delivered, and that's," he looked down at his watch. “Now."

  Half of me wanted to say, "Shouldn't you be resting? Surely you don't have to work today?" But the other half was bowled over by the intense impact he was having on me. So I followed him in silence, muted by my own confusion.

  His suite was up one floor and to the rear of the manor, away from the courtyard. When we entered the tidy room it was obvious that he was not like most young men I knew. The place was virtually spotless. The furnishings were navy with white piping - Novak colours. There was white wainscoting on the walls. It was all very nautical. Even the carpet was a plush navy, reminiscent of deep water. He had a bookshelf loaded with Polish titles and a few English ones. Everything looked like it was either business related or historical.

  The smell of him was everywhere. I realized as soon as I inhaled that coming into his suite was a mistake. I had stalled for time so I could try to think properly, and now I could barely think at all. Was this part of the deal? A heightened sense of smell? The baking had smelled great but I didn't think it smelled any differently than it had to my human nose. But Antoni was a different story.

  In his living room, there was a couch and a chair. He sat on the chair and gestured that I should take the couch. I sat, obediently. I tried not to stare at him but even my eyes felt hungry for him, he was by far the most interesting thing in the room. I mutely offered him a biscuit. He took it, probably more as a reaction than because he was hungry. I bit into one and that helped refocus me. I stifled a groan at the pleasure of how it melted in my mouth.

  Almost immediately, there was a knock at the door. Antoni went to open it and accepted the trolley. He thanked whoever had delivered it, and wheeled his breakfast in.

  Now that I'd started eating, the floodgates of my hunger had opened. My eyes followed the food as it rolled in. Whatever it was, it smelled incredible. My mouth watered.

  "Help yourself. I think you need it more than me," he said, eyeing the way I was now wolfing down a second biscuit.

  I took the cover off the plate and was rewarded with a serving of scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, sautéed whitefish, and broiled tomatoes. It would be polite to ask him if he was sure he wanted to share his breakfast, but instinct told me just to eat. So I did.

  Antoni sat across from me and watched. I was being rude, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Was this how my mom felt? She had always put away a lot of food, and quickly. I was so used to it I barely noticed anymore.

  "Did they not feed you last night?" He cocked an eyebrow.

  "I fell asleep right away," I said around a mouthful of toast.

  "Ah."

  When I had finished everything on the trolley including the fruit salad, the pat of butter, and the little cup of jam, my manners returned. I thanked him. I also apologized, sheepishly. He brushed it off.

  "Targa.” He leaned forward.

  "Are you ok?" I gestured to the way his hand cradled his chest. He dropped it like he hadn't realized he'd been holding his rib.

  "I'm fine. Doc says I have a couple hairline fractures. He taped me up. That's not what I wanted to... it's not important." He stopped and took a breath.

  He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He clasped his hands together, interlacing his fingers very slowly and deliberately. I had never noticed his hands before; they were beautiful. Square and strong, his fingernails neatly trimmed.

  "I am so sorry," he said, finally. "It's completely my fault. I was so eager to show you the laser that I didn't take proper precautions. I didn't check the weather. I didn't... plan. I.... We could have died. I could have killed you!" He stood up and said the last bit very loudly. He ran his fingers through his short hair, distressed.

  So, he didn't know that he had actually died. That was good. "It's ok, Antoni. Everything turned out ok," I said. It was hard to see him looking so upset.

  "No." He shook his head. "You don't understand. I don't do things like that. I'm not irresponsible, especially with your... someone else's life. I don't know what I was thinking. My God this is a nightmare." He covered his face with his hands.

  I stood up and took his hands. "Please don't beat yourself up. Can't you see? I'm ok. I'm more than ok. I just ate enough food to feed two men, I feel great. You're fine. Other than being out a laser, everything turned out fine."

  "Well, actually..." He squeezed my hands. "We got the laser back. Erik and Maarten were able to find it early this morning with The Zodiac once the storm had cleared. But that's not the point. I just..."

  He startled me by putting his warm palm against my cheek. He'd never been so familiar with me before, the intimate touch jumpstarted a hunger of another kind. His scent broke over me again like waves smashing against rocks. My hearing fuzzed out.

  Sounding far away he said, "I couldn't live with myself if something had happened to you. I will never forgive myself for taking you out yesterday. It was foolish. I was so foolish."

  He was saying nice things. I needed to respond, to comfort him. To kiss him. I shook my head but I couldn't tell if I was disagreeing with the confession that he was foolish, or disagreeing with my own desire to kiss him.

  I opened my mouth to comfort him but no words came. He dropped his hand from my face. He sat on the couch and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He let out a breath that sounded like he was in pain, which he probably was.

  He spoke through his fingers, "And the worst part is that I can't remember
anything. It's so frustrating. I don't know how we got out of that mess. I remember losing control of the laser and trying to flip it upright. I tried calling for help on that useless two-way. I was so angry when it didn't work that I threw it into the sea, another dick move. All I remember after throwing the radio is blackness, and then your face, but I think it was just a dream because we couldn't have been together. I must have hallucinated it." This came out in a stream of consciousness, his accent thicker than usual. It sounded musical to my ears. Everything about him had suddenly become so wonderful and beautiful. So sexy.

  I sat down beside him and put a hand on his back. Another mistake as I was distracted by the feeling of his flesh under my palm. And that scent. What was I going to say? Shit. No, not shit. Something comforting. Focus. Tell him something that will make sense to him, something that will explain all the confusion away.

  All I was coming up with were more questions. Would he believe me if I told him that I was able to swim to him and pull him to shore? It was beyond a superhuman feat. Should I try to pass it off as a miracle? Maybe say that I couldn't remember anything either?

  He turned to me, his hazel eyes searching my face. "What happened to you? What happened to me? How did I wake up in the boathouse?"

  I opened my mouth to respond but I still had no explanation. The beauty of his face filled my eyes. His lips were so soft looking, so inviting. And that shadow of a beard that I wanted to feel scraping against my palm, against my face. My mind stretched in two directions, wanting him and struggling for something to say. He was waiting. Time was ticking by.

  His eyes dropped from my eyes to my mouth and that was all the invitation I needed. I leaned forward and kissed him.

  Immediately, he responded. We stood up together and he crushed me to him with one arm, the other hand curled around the back of my neck. His fingers wove into the hair at the base of my skull. I heard a soft moan with my fuzzy hearing; sounding so far away. Was that me in pleasure, or him in pain?

  He kissed me like it was more important than breathing, like a starving man, and I gave back as good as I got. A startling thread of electricity zinged through my body. Warmth flushed through me from deep in my belly. It swept outward through my limbs and up the back of my neck.

  I had kissed and been kissed before but it had never felt like this. The kisses of my past had all felt foreign, alien. They'd happened because I had allowed myself to be kissed, not because I'd sought the kiss out or wanted it. At the time, I thought that's what girls my age were supposed to want so I let myself be kissed. Only deep down, I hadn't been that interested. Until now.

  Antoni's kiss intoxicated me fully. I drowned in the smell of him. I put my hands on his face, his stubble a thrill to my palms. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, standing up on my tiptoes to reach him. I wanted to occupy the same space as him, be fused to him. I pressed my body against his from chest to knees.

  Suddenly, he broke the kiss and pulled away, out of breath. I was panting too.

  "Targa, we can't. This is crazy. You're so young... Too young." He unlocked my arms from his neck and took a deliberate step back. It was a clear sign of rejection.

  I wasn't hurt. I didn't feel rejected. I didn't feel anything except for the desire to be with him. I had supreme confidence that I could have him. My siren self knew that if I went after him, he would give in. He would be helpless. He would be mine.

  My skin began to tingle. There was a new scent in the air. It was musky, soft, and feminine. It was mine. "I want you," I heard myself say. Since when had I ever been so bold?

  My hands reached for him of their own accord. I flattened my palms against his chest. He groaned and the muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. I could hear them grinding in his skull. His nostrils flared.

  My voice had changed when I'd said the words, just a fraction. There had been a lone violin - my siren sound. I reached into myself and called more strings forward, all it would take was a few more words. It would be so easy.

  I opened my mouth to speak when he said, "I could lose my job, Targa." His voice was ragged.

  I froze. With supreme effort, I swallowed the violins and stepped back. It took everything I had to drop my hands from his chest. My skin stopped tingling. Instinct was urging me to seduce him, but my rational side was screaming to stop. How did my mother cope with this battle of wills? She'd never told me how difficult it was.

  I swallowed hard again, snuffing for good the voice I'd been ready to use on him. My throat felt dry, like it was coated with sawdust. I needed a glass of water. Forget a glass, I needed a bucket. I also had the urge to take a shower.

  "I have to go," I said. In a few short strides I was at the door.

  "No, Targa wait... " he said, his voice thick with regret. But I was out the door and running down the hall before he could say anything else.

  Chapter 19

  After I'd showered and guzzled a litre of water, I waited in the sitting area for Mom to wake up. I was tempted to wake her to talk about what had happened, but she'd been working hard and needed sleep. I checked the clock. It was almost seven. I started pacing. Then I decided to go for a walk around the manor to kill some time. I climbed the stairwell to the next storey and wandered along, taking in paintings, sculptures, and antique furniture that dotted the hallways and little sitting areas. The place still seemed deserted.

  I meandered aimlessly, replaying the events that had just happened in Antoni's suite. I got vertigo when I thought about it. For years I'd worried that something was wrong with me. Clearly, now there wasn't. Had the desire been lying dormant just like the mermaid gene? Were the two linked somehow? My feelings towards Antoni had changed so suddenly and so drastically that it was the only explanation. Just the thought of him sent dragonflies whirring through my stomach, their hearty wings battering my ribcage mercilessly. My hands were trembling as though I'd just run a mile. Was this better than not feeling anything? Now I felt weak for want of him, almost like it owned me instead of me owning it.

  I didn't know where I was anymore. I was in a hallway that was completely lined with wood. The floors were hardwood and the walls were panelled. It looked nothing like the rest of the manor. I spotted an alcove that had a fireplace and a small teak door beside it. Curious, I cracked it open to see a set of stairs. I climbed the stairs and exited the stairwell through a similar tiny door to find another hallway lined with doors. This one was different. It hadn't been updated the way the rest of the mansion had been. It looked the same way I suspected it had looked when the manor had been built. I wandered down the hall, noting as I walked by a window that I was on the top floor.

  Halfway down the hall I saw a set of double doors propped open. The crackling sound of a fire could be heard coming from the room. I suddenly needed to know who was in the room and what it looked like. I guessed this was the curiosity my mother was famous for.

  I was a mere few steps from the door when I heard my mothers' voice. I stopped in surprise. So, she hadn't been sleeping in her room after all.

  "It shouldn't be a difficult dive. The wreck is well situated. I don't anticipate any problems," she was saying.

  "From what I hear," Martinius answered in his warm baritone, "there isn't much that seems to be a problem for you, Mira. Your record speaks volumes."

  In true Mira style, my mother didn't answer.

  Martinius spoke again after a moment of silence. "You're welcome to borrow any of those books while you're here if you like. I have quite a few English nautical history books if they interest you."

  "Thank you," my mother said, and I fought the urge to applaud sarcastically at her manners.

  "Simon has agreed that the first dive will be Tuesday?" Martinius asked.

  "So I'm told. We've spent the week doing nothing but prep, if we're not ready now, we never will be."

  "Wonderful!" said Martinius with real enthusiasm. "I am jealous that I shall not be the first to examine her. I wish I
could go, but I have long since hung up my diving gear. Be sure to take the time to observe both the crowsnest design and the figurehead. Both of them were hand carved by a famous Polish craftsman."

  "I will," said Mom.

  "And, you have everything that you need? There is nothing else that you can think of that might make the dive go more smoothly for you?"

  "Yes, we are well very equipped," she replied. "It's quite a fleet of floating assets you have. I think Simon just about had kittens when he saw your outfit."

  There was a pause and then, "Kittens?"

  “An expression for when someone is excited," Mom explained.

  Martinius gave a delighted laugh and there was another long silence. It was quiet for so long that I wondered what was going on. There was no sound except for the crackling fire. I took a step closer and then heard my mother speak again. Her voice closer to the door now. "Well, I think I'll go check on my daughter," she said. Something about the way she said daughter told me that she knew I was outside the door.

  "Certainly," answered Martinius. "I'm so glad everything turned out well. Give her my regards. Perhaps I'll be so lucky as to hear the story in her words. Antoni seems to be struggling with the memory of what happened, poor chap."

  "Yes." Mom was just about at the door. "Good day to you Martinius."

  "Good day, Mira," he said.

  She came out the door and threw an arm around my shoulders, turning me around. She kissed my forehead, but she didn't say anything until we got back to our suite and she closed the door behind her. She found her way as though she’d grown up in this mansion.

  "Odd," she said, leaning her back against the door.

  "What?"

  “He had one of his staff ask me late last night to come see him first thing in the morning. He'd arrived late from a meeting in Gdańsk and heard that you'd been in an accident. He wanted to know that everything was ok."