Awakening (Elementals Book 1)

by Sara Preucil

  Her mind could barely comprehend the surreal series of events; she found herself just starting at his hand, wrapped firmly around her wrist, and dreamily wondering if she should be letting a stranger lead her to who-knows-where.

  They turned another corner, and Tara finally looked up, recognizing immediately where they were headed: the parking garage. They ducked into the stairwell.

  “Wait!” Tara gasped, her free hand moving to prop herself up against her knees, as she bent over to catch her breath. She was only able to suck in a couple of gasps before they heard the sound of multiple footsteps approaching.

  Without a word, Aidan started up the stairs, pulling her along with him. They ascended only one flight before Aidan led them out of the exit and across the empty garage. They headed for a small set of stairs that was a shortcut to the other side of the level.

  The crack of a gunshot rang out, reverberating off the cement walls around them. A spot in the wall ahead of them exploded, spewing dust and tiny cement particles. Tara ducked shielding her eyes, as they ran up the stairs.

  Aidan darted to the right, pulling Tara along the empty level toward a solitary motorcycle.

  “Get on!”

  Aidan swung a leg over the bike, extracting a key from a hiding place on the underbelly of the black gas tank. The bike roared to life; Tara hesitated.

  “Come on!”

  Footsteps drew closer, and three men came around the corner, all dressed in black security uniforms. They were all armed and pointing their guns at both Aidan and Tara.

  Putting one foot on the passenger foot peg, Tara swung her other leg over the bike, settling behind Aidan. Immediately, the bike began to move under her, and as a reflex, she wrapped her arms around Aidan’s waist.

  The guards dived to the side as Aidan charged the bike straight for them.

  As they rocketed past, another shot rang out, Tara heard the tearing of the wind as the bullet flew past her right ear.

  Rage swelled inside of her, sudden and all consuming. Reacting purely on instinct, Tara turned, and shot out her right hand in the direction of the guards. It was as though her arm acted as a conduit for her rage; she felt the surge of energy explode out of her extended hand.

  There was a thunderous rumbling and the ceiling between she and Aidan and the guards collapsed in great concrete chunks, concealing the guards behind a wall of dust and falling debris. A second shot rang out from behind the wreckage.

  The bike swayed suddenly, and Tara spun back around, latching her arms around Aidan’s waist.

  Expertly, Aidan steered them out of the garage and on to the street. They sped out of town, ignoring all traffic regulations, and on to the nearest on-ramp to I-5.

  They drove for miles. The rain never relented; so, between being thoroughly soaked and exposed to the autumn night air, it was only a matter of minutes before Tara was chilled to the bone. She shivered, tucking her head down behind Aidan’s back to avoid the brunt of cold air. The adrenaline in her system was fizzling now, leaving behind a flurry of anxious thoughts.

  What the hell am I doing? She thought wildly, as the road sped by beneath them.

  She was powerless, completely at the mercy of Aidan, whom, although she had just helped escape, also knows that she was part of the Order.

  Was?

  Is?

  Since when did Tara’s mind make that switch? And since when had she stopped thinking of this guy as “the unnatural”? When did he become just “Aidan”?

  Tara’s anxieties grew as they drove past Burlington. She was expecting them to continue on south, but Aidan took an exit that took them into Mount Vernon. They wound through deserted, rain-soaked streets, until he pulled into a complex of nondescript apartment buildings.

  Aidan drove the bike slowly through the parking lot, weaving around the speed bumps, until he pulled into a covered parking spot at the base of one of the apartments.

  Aidan got off the bike first, then helped Tara down. She moved stiffly, given her sodden jeans and overly cold muscles. Without Aidan’s body heat acting as a shield, she felt even colder; she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to suppress her shivering.

  Warily, she looked up at Aidan.

  He was smirking. “You’re full of surprises,” he said as he picked up a tarp from the floor of the parking space and flung it over the motorcycle.

  “Where are we?” Tara asked, feeling numb, both physically and mentally.

  “Come on,” was all Aidan said in reply. He headed up the couple of stairs that led to a door, unlocked it, and turned to wait for Tara.

  Tara bit her lip. She had two options and neither were appealing. She could either stay outside and quite possibly develop pneumonia, or she could follow this complete stranger into an apartment building.

  Well, she thought wryly, I’ve come this far.

  She sighed and trudged up the couple of steps after Aidan. On the other side of the door, Tara found herself in a tiny entry way. She was just getting her bearings when someone came around the corner.

  “What the hell is she doing here?!” An all too familiar raven-haired girl appeared. She was wearing pajamas and her scarlet-tipped hair was disheveled. Tara gaped at her in surprise. Neither she nor Aidan were able to answer, because someone else came into view.

  The tall, platinum boy was someone Tara recognized from his profile picture in the Order’s database. His brows creased as he looked between Emmy and Tara, and then his blue, sleep-bleary eyes fell on Aidan.

  “Shit, man,” he spoke with a southern accent. “We’ve been worried about you.” He raked his hand through his blonde hair.

  “I got detained.” Aidan offered, lamely.

  “That doesn’t explain why you brought a member of the Order here!” Emmy shot.

  “Relax. She’s one of us.”

  “What?” Emmy’s dark eyes snapped on to Tara, narrowing suspiciously.

  “I—” Tara dropped her gaze, looking down at her hands. Her head was starting to swim; exhaustion was starting to take hold. What did Aidan mean by she’s one of us? Tara thought thickly. But before her tired brain could ponder this, something caught her eye. A splash of scarlet against her skin. Slowly, absentmindedly, she flipped her palm up.

  It was covered in blood.

  Chapter 38

  Bewildered, Tara stared at the scarlet blood smeared across her hand, the other’s voices became a muffled buzzing in the background.

  “Aidan. I-I think you’ve been shot,” Tara said, her voice sounding faint in her ears. Her only thought was that his blood must have gotten on her hand while she was holding on to him from the back of the motorcycle.

  Aidan unzipped his sodden black hoodie. The white t-shirt underneath was drenched, but unmarked. He patted himself down.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Look!” Emmy said suddenly. Tara took her eyes off her hand to see what Emmy was talking about. Her porcelain black-polished finger was pointing to Tara’s leg.

  Dreamlike, Tara’s eyes slowly followed, and she finally saw what Emmy was pointing at. A red stain had spread across the right thigh of her jeans.

  “Oh.” Tara touched the fabric, it was warm and sticky. She wobbled on her feet, feeling suddenly dizzy.

  “Shit,” one of the boys mumbled.

  “Get her in my room,” someone else said.

  Tara felt her feet leave the floor, and then the next thing she was aware of was a soft mattress under her back.

  “Turn around!” she heard Emmy command, and then her jeans were being tugged off her. Her waistband dragged against a spot on her thigh, and for the first time she felt pain.

  She let out a cry. Black spots swarmed in front of her eyes like angry flies.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Emmy apologized, now freeing Tara’s feet from the jeans. Tara seemed to be floating, only distantly hearing the different voices in the room as they spoke among one another.

  “Tara…Tara. Tara!”

  Tara felt her shoulder being shake
n. She blinked, and the room swam into view. Emmy’s doll-like face was looking down at her.

  “What?” she whined.

  “Your wound,” Emmy said, “It’s only a flesh wound. The bullet skimmed the side of your thigh. We can fix it here.”

  “It’s going to hurt like hell though, so drink this.” The blonde boy appeared, holding out a flask. Tara accepted it as a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders; Aidan helped her to sit up. She took a couple of deep pulls from the flask; whatever was in there burned her throat, spreading its warmth to her fingers and toes.

  “Thanks.” She handed it back to him as Aidan helped her lay back again. She looked up into his dark eyes, and managed a weak smile.

  Stinging pain erupted from her thigh.

  “Fuck!” Tara cried out.

  “Sorry,” Emmy apologized again, although there was a lightness to her voice that suggested that she might be somewhat enjoying this. “Needed to sterilize it.” She hastily screwed the top back on the flask. “This next part is going to be worse though.”

  “What are you going to do?” Tara asked, having been shocked out of her daze.

  “Cauterize it,” Emmy replied, frankly.

  “You’re going to need to bit down on this.” The blonde boy passed Tara her stained jeans. “We can’t have your shouts drawing unwanted attention from the neighbors.”

  Tara stared at them defiantly, but knew they were right. She shoved her jeans into her mouth, still glaring.

  Aidan’s hands gripped her shoulders tightly, probably in anticipation of having to keep her from struggling. Tara’s heart pounded, the painful throbbing in her leg kept time with her pulse.

  Emmy dropped down to her knees next to Tara’s leg. She held out the first two fingers of her right hand. With a flicker of light, they ignited. A small blue flame danced at the tip of her fingers.

  Tara’s eyes widened at the sight of the small torch. She moaned into the denim. Aidan’s fingers tightened against her shoulders, she may have been wrong, but she interpreted it as a sympathetic gesture.

  “Have you done this before?” The blonde boy asked Emmy.

  She nodded. “Well…a past me has,” she admitted, and then lowered her hand. “Sorry,” she said once more.

  Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

  Searing pain flared through her leg. Tara screamed into the wad of denim in her mouth. The rank smell of burnt flesh filled the small bedroom. A stifling darkness overtook Tara’s senses, mercifully shielding her, and she fell willingly into it.

  Chapter 39

  Afternoon rolled around and Briana found herself alone in the house. Liam was at the schoolhouse, her father was at his job as a hand for a large farm about a mile down the road, and her mother had run out to help a neighbor who was expecting her third child and was quite far along in her pregnancy.

  The morning had brought an impressive downpour, and Briana was knelt down over a cold fireplace, struggling to light a fire at the damp hearth.

  There was a knock at the door, and her immediate thought was that it was Eagan. How dim could the lad be, knocking on their front door in broad daylight?

  Briana sighed. He didn’t realize how lucky he was that she was home alone. She got up, wiped the soot from her apron, and crossed the room to answer the door.

  The green uniformed soldier standing on the other side of the door was not the one she expected.

  “Home inspections,” the pock-marked soldier said, smiling cruelly. Two more armed National Army soldiers lingered merely feet away.

  “What are you looking for?” Briana raised her chin, not wanting to appear intimidated.

  “Anti-treaty rebels,” the soldier replied with a cruel grin.

  “There aren’t any here.” Briana crossed her arms over her chest.

  “We’ll see for ourselves.” The soldier grabbed Briana by the shoulder, pushing her easily to the side so that all three of them could enter. The other two set upon the small home, upending their few possessions while the pock-marked one stood with an arm extended, barring Briana from interfering.

  “Stop!” Briana begged as they headed through the door that led to her and Liam’s room. She took a step forward, but was grabbed roughly around her upper arm and yanked back by the pock-marked soldier. She squirmed, but he pulled her even closer to him. He pinned both of her arms to her sides, his chest pressed into her back.

  “What say we have some fun of our own while the lads search?” His breath was hot against Briana’s ear; she cringed away from it. At her sides, her hands formed into fists and began to shake. Her eyes darted to the large stones that lined the hearth. The soldier had no idea how easily she could incapacitate him, but doing so would risk exposure.

  Perhaps no one would find out? Briana stared at the stone, deliberating.

  “Walsh.” A voice suddenly spoke from the open front door. The soldier relaxed his grip slightly on Briana, but didn’t release her. She turned to the doorway to see Eagan passing the threshold. His fever appeared to have left him, but he still looked unsteady on his feet.

  “Connelly!” The pock-marked soldier, apparently named Walsh, sounded surprised. “Where have you been?”

  Eagan lifted his shirt, exposing the wrappings over his healing wound. “Getting bandaged up.” His dark eyes fell on Briana, his expression stiffening slightly before he surveyed the rest of the house. “I’ve already searched this place. These people are not irregulars. You can let her go.”

  Walsh’s hands lingered on Briana’s arms as he hesitated. “Connelly,” he chuckled, “you wouldn’t deny us a little fun, now would you?”

  Eagan’s jaw set; his gaze on the soldier turned icy. “Get your men and go, private, that’s an order.” His tone offered no room for argument.

  Walsh released his hold on Briana, giving her a slight shove. She stumbled forward a few steps before righting herself.

  “Yes sir, corporal, sir.” He gave Briana a chilling sneer, and then barked out, “Bergin! Gilmore! Move out.”

  The other two soldiers appeared from Briana’s bedroom and followed Walsh out of the front door, the last one out shooting Briana a smug look as he exited.

  Eagan closed the door behind them.

  “Thanks,” Briana whispered in the suddenly still room.

  “Did they hurt you?” Eagan’s tone was still stony. His square jaw was still clenched tightly; it twitched with irritation at the corner.

  “No.” Brianna rubbed her arms and looked around the house. She let out a sigh and began righting the upended wooden chairs and stools at the fireplace. Wordlessly, Eagan began to help. They worked in silence; it didn’t take long to put the small house back in order.

  “Thank you,” Brianna said again once she emerged from her bedroom. The soldiers had emptied the small dresser of her and Liam’s clothing, which Briana had to pick up off the floor and return to their rightful drawers.

  “It was no trouble.” Eagan stood in the center of the living space, looking uncertain about what he should do.

  There was an awkward silence, and then Briana shivered, remembering her battle with the damp hearth. She walked over to the stone fireplace and crouched down, attempting to light it once more.

  “Here, let me.” Eagan crouched down beside her, his arm brushing against her, sending tingling jolts down her arm.

  Briana scooted back, allowing him the space to work. “It’s fairly damp—” she began to warn him, but her words froze as, only a moment later, he leaned back. A healthy flame had sprouted in the center of the hearth, where it now crackled merrily.

  “How..?” Mouth parted in surprise, she cast him a look full of wonder.

  Eagan shrugged. “Trick of the trade. I’ve got loads of them up my sleeve.” He gave Briana a mischievous smile that had her insides squirming.

  A flush of blood rose to her cheeks. “Neat trick,” she murmured, her mouth going dry. When Eagan had leaned back, it had brought him and Briana shoulder to shoulder. She breathed in his scent; it
was of grass and dirt, of the earth. Tentatively, she returned his smile.

  Carefully, he reached out as if to brush a strawberry-blonde strand out of Briana’s face.

  A log snapped loudly in the hearth, making Briana jump, breaking the spell of the moment. She stood up quickly, realizing that her mother could return any minute.

  “You’d better go before my mam gets home.”

  Eagan nodded and stood. He swayed slightly on his feet, and took a deep breath before he appeared to steady himself. He then started to head for the door.

  “Wait.” Briana hurried to the kitchen where she wrapped a small loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese in a cloth before returning to the living room. “Here.” She handed Eagan the small bundle. “Eat this and rest more, or you’ll get worse.”

  As he accepted the bundle, his fingers brushed against hers. She felt an unusual sense of rightness at his touch; she allowed her hands to linger a moment before pulling away.

  He hooked his finger around her pinky, catching it for a second longer before it slipped through his grasp. “Thank you,” he said before turning on his heel and heading out the front door.

  Briana hurried to the door, latching it behind him, and then peered out past the thin curtain to make sure there were no onlookers.

  When she was sure they were safe, she turned away, leaning her back against the door. Biting her lip, she held up her pinky. It still tingled from the ghost of his touch. Briana smiled to herself.

  Chapter 40

  Tara was blanketed in the dark—the soft, muted, numbing dark. She drifted contentedly in the empty peace.

  “Are you sure?” A girl’s voice drifted into the darkness, disjointed and distant.

  “Em, the whole apartment shook when she screamed.” A second voice answered.

  Tara blocked them out, she wanted to drift farther, sink deeper into the shadows. But their voices brought another sensation: a slight twinge, the knowledge of feeling. Her face crumpled in a frown. She didn’t want it. She liked the dark.