Broken Elements (8 page)

Sera stood in front of the door, holding the largest fireball I’d ever seen. It writhed and twisted in her hands, and I could almost see bodies pulsing within its depths, pushing against the barriers as if seeking escape. “Just open the door, Ade. I’ve got this.”

Hoping he hadn’t bothered to lock it behind him, I reached out. The knob twisted easily in my hand, and the door silently swung open. I had only a moment to look inside the room before Sera threw her missile, and I saw the lone figure I expected to see—except this man was dressed in a black jacket, with a red collar circling the man’s neck.

“Sera, no!” I shouted, a fraction of a second too late. The fireball flew into the room, smacking directly into the guard’s back. His clothes were instantly aflame.

Fortunately, the man was no fool. He immediately removed the jacket and got low on the ground, crawling toward us. It did little good. He had been restrained, his left leg shackled to the wall, and could only move a few feet. Behind him, he had only the solid wall of the building and an eager fire. Ahead, he saw the two of us, standing amidst an inferno of our own creation. Desperate, I reached again and still found no magic. The flames rose higher, and I could do nothing to help.

“Put it out, Sera,” I screamed. She looked at me, confused, wondering why I wasn’t doing my part. I only shook my head at her. The fires stoked the panic and anger building inside me, and I could find no words to explain.

Her brows drew in, her face a mask of concentration. I knew she was focusing on pulling the flames to her, but she might as well have been attempting long division for all the good it did.

The fire continued to burn, and I was unable to stop it. I kept reaching for my magic, only to find it inaccessible through my borderline hysteria. The more I tried, the more upset I became, a vicious cycle of futility. The fire continued to rage.

Sera’s efforts were no more successful. She had simply started too many fires to control. Everywhere we looked, wood burned, the flames eagerly consuming anything in their path. We only had minutes before the catwalk crushed us, or possibly the roof. Longevity is not the same as immortality, and if we wanted to live, we needed to get out of there. “There’s no way,” I said, looking blankly at the front door, now a wall of flame. Sera could get through it, but I could not.

“Come on, Ade. Let’s move.” She pulled me to the door. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m letting go of all the other fires. They don’t exist. It’s just this one now. I’m going to make it as small as possible, then I am wrapping myself around you as much as I can and we are rushing through that door. You hear me?”

I shook my head. “You do that, the guard has no chance. You let those flames burn at full strength, and he’s dead.”

“It doesn’t matter. If I don’t do this, you’re dead, and that is not going to happen.” The debate was over. A moment later, the flames before us lessened enough that we could see the dawn sky through them, and Sera decided that was good enough. Grabbing me, she leapt through the door, landing on her back and immediately rolling to put out any fires that clung to my clothes. “You hurt?”

Mutely, I shook my head no. I felt nothing. A moment later she was back inside the warehouse, searching for the guard. She couldn’t have been inside for more than a minute, but each second felt like a small eternity. I knew that Sera should be safe with fire, but I should also be able to control water. Should wasn’t worth much this night.

Finally, she walked back through the flames. There was no mad rush, no quick roll this time. She was alone. She looked at me, her black eyes pools of regret and sorrow, and shook her head silently. “Let’s get out of here before the fire trucks arrive,” she said, climbing into the driver’s seat. Slowly, I joined her. There was nothing else to do here. As we drove out, the flames in the doorway were once again burning at full strength, blocking me from seeing inside, but also blocking anything else from escaping. Whoever was in there, he was dead.

Two miles down the road, the storm that had been threatening all day finally broke. The rain poured down in sheets, removing any evidence of our presence at the warehouse. It drenched the land and extinguished the fire. Sera and I said nothing, and I only stared out the window, watching nature accomplish what I had been unable to.

Chapter 7

When I finished my story, the room was silent for several long moments. Sera looked at me and offered one silent nod, letting me know that she agreed with, or at least accepted, my version of the story. Brian stared into space, perhaps imagining the fiery death of the man who had killed his girlfriend. Vivian met my gaze directly and nodded, though I could not tell whether she was merely acknowledging the story or harshly judging our actions from that night. I hoped it was the former, if only because while I might consider myself an irresponsible killer, it would be hard to work together if others shared that opinion.

Mac stood up, grabbed my coat off the rack, and chucked it to me. “Let’s see it, then,” was his only comment. I followed him out to his Bronco, and a moment later Vivian and Simon slid into the back seat. Sera and Brian were meeting her father at the airport, and so the four of us drove in silence to the scene of all my worst memories. When we’d run away years ago, the fire seemed to stretch halfway to the stars, its power so all-consuming I thought the building had no chance of survival. I’d expected to find nothing when we arrived. And yet, here it was, its four walls black and burnt, but standing.

The inside hadn’t fared as well. The flames had devoured large chunks of the roof, and years of exposure to the elements and wildlife made this formerly industrial building feel raw and primitive. The fire had stripped the entire building down to bare bones, leaving ragged holes in walls and gaping wounds where doors once stood. The catwalk no longer ran completely around the building. Parts of it had fallen to the ground, and in other places only one end had come loose, dropping to the floor and creating ramps that only the most adventurous soul would dare to climb. The metal staircase still stood, untouched, but it was no longer connected to anything. Despite the destruction, I could easily picture the building exactly as it had stood that night. I doubt I’d ever forget.

“Show us where you last saw the guy,” said Vivian. She wandered around the warehouse, peering at concrete and tapping various support beams. It looked like she was considering buying the place. Mac stood still, slowly moving his eyes over every inch of the building, an expression of pure focus on his face. I suspected that, if asked, he’d later be able to draw it from memory.

“Over here,” I called, pointing out the room closest to me. There was no longer any door to speak of, nor even much of a room.

Simon shifted and prowled, appropriately enough, around the decrepit catwalk, and the rest of us stood together in the burned out warehouse, looking for clues and explanations that were at least ten years old. I had never been back here. The day after the fire, I’d told Sera I never wanted to see her again, climbed into my car and headed north with no plan beyond escaping any place or person that reminded me of that night.

I didn’t know who I blamed more: Sera for her recklessness and uncontrolled power, or me for my utter impotence when my magic was most needed. It didn’t matter. I crossed the state line and did my best to pretend that I could outrun memories, and I kept running until Sera appeared on my porch four days ago. Standing in the building where our decisions had killed two innocent men and contributed to the death of an innocent woman, I felt everything come full circle. There was no running, and no escape. The previous ten years of solitude might as well have never happened.

I was certain Simon wouldn’t find anything. The fire department and time would have long since removed any evidence, if there’d been any to begin with. We were mainly here for that third room, the concrete block into which the killer had vanished. If we were to understand what was happening now, we had to grasp what had transpired before. “The fire was all through here,” I said, though it was unnecessary. The charred ruins told the story of the fire’s progress clearly enough. “And both doors were completely engulfed in flames.”

Mac walked to the back door and studied it closely. “You’re sure he couldn’t have run through here when Sera was carrying you out? If he’d rolled immediately, he might have made it.”

“Maybe, if he didn’t have to walk through two hundred feet of uncontrolled fire to get to the door. The minute Sera concentrated on the front door, she lost all control of the others. No one could get through those fires. The guard didn’t make it two minutes before he... before he died.”

I stopped, remembering his face as I’d last seen it, terrified and confused. He’d been a large, healthy man, much like Mac, and probably expected death to come in the form of cancer or heart disease much later in life. I doubt he’d ever pictured being overwhelmed by a fire caused by a woman who barely reached his armpit. I never learned his name, but the face I would never forget. “Plus,” I said, pulling myself back to the conversation, “that was one hell of a fire outside. Sera really wasn’t messing around.”

“Shouldn’t his iciness or whatever have protected him?” I wondered how much time Mac had spent with elementals, considering how unfamiliar he seemed with our magic.

“An ice’s powers work similar to how a water’s does. I find the water, either in the air or in something like a pond or river, then do pretty much whatever I want with it. But I can’t make water where there is none, just as he can’t make ice when there is no water in the air. We can only manipulate what is there, and by the time we left the warehouse that night, the fire had certainly consumed all the water in the air. Some of us can store a small amount of our magic, so in theory he could have frozen something small, but that’s it.”

“Something small, like a heart.”

“Exactly. But since he’d just frozen Amanda’s, he wouldn’t have had any reserves to set up even the smallest protective layer. He was dealing with the same human weaknesses as the guard. I don’t see any way he could have escaped.”

While we talked, Vivian examined every corner of the third room, standing on tip-toes to run her fingers along the ceiling and crouching down to examine the ground. “I do. I see a way,” she said.

We looked at her in surprise, and Simon jumped down to join us. The room in which she stood was completely enclosed. It had no windows, and the only door led to the main area of the warehouse, where the fires would have destroyed any living thing.

Vivian pointed down. Parts of the warehouse had been modernized over the years, but these rooms hadn’t been updated since the building was first built over a hundred years earlier, and the floors were packed dirt. “I don’t think he had time to dig his way out,” I offered. Vivian didn’t respond. Instead, she reached out a hand, fingers spread. Slowly, the floor responded to her summons. Five separate streams of earth rose gently upwards, attaching to each finger.

She repeated the motion with her other hand, then yanked on them both, moving the earth easily into a pile and creating a large hole immediately next to the concrete wall. She did it again, and the hole enlarged. The entire process took no more than twenty seconds. In several minutes, Vivian would have a space large enough to crawl outside.

“Would he have had the time?” asked Mac. “That’s a lot to do while smoke is filling your lungs.”

Vivian nodded. “I might be able to do it. And remember that I’m not an especially strong earth. Anyone with more magic than me could definitely do it.”

It made a horrible, unimaginable kind of sense. Everything else had gone wrong that night. Why would our one goal, to eliminate the killer, have been successful? Of course he’d gotten away. Of course he had.

I knelt down on the floor, staring at the ground. I could see it now, all the pieces that had never quite added up. Before we arrived, he’d grabbed the guard and locked him in the room. Maybe he’d been hiding there when we first came in, expecting us to check all the unlocked doors first.

When we moved upstairs, he’d snuck out, leaving the guard trapped inside, and frozen Amanda’s heart from below. He’d taunted us from a safe distance, counting on Sera’s temper to start a fire in the main building, and she had played right into his hands. The moment he ran back into the room, we had thought he was trapped, but he was only using that time to escape. If I hadn’t seen the red collar on the guard’s jacket, I would never have known he wasn’t our target.

I wondered how much had been planned. Did he know Sera well enough to predict her actions, and how could he know my powers would fail so spectacularly? The night, which had previously seemed like a series of chaotic events, suddenly took on the sheen of premeditation. There was only one problem.

“But he was ice. Not earth. He couldn’t move this much earth,” I said. It took longer than it probably should have to make the connection. In my defense, the possibility was almost too horrible to consider. “There were two of them,” I whispered. “The bastard has a partner.”

Six people sat on dark leather sofas and armchairs so soft they could double as underwear, if one were so inclined. They surrounded rich mahogany coffee tables that held red lilies the owner of the hotel suite had undoubtedly not chosen himself. The walls were a pristine white and hung with original pieces of art. There was not a single speck of dirt to be seen, and I could swear the dominant scent in the room was the smell of money, which seemed to rise in waves from each object d’art and every piece of furniture. Some parents, when their children go away to college, call too often or drop in unexpectedly. Sera’s father bought the local luxury hotel and converted the penthouse for his personal use. It was stunning and opulent, and I found myself longing for upside down wallpaper and Sacramento Kings throw pillows.

I was not the only one, if the body language of the others was an accurate indication. Brian and Vivian were perched on the edge of a love seat. Mac had claimed one of the armchairs and, at first glance, he appeared relaxed. His back slumped slightly, molding itself against the leather. A closer look revealed that his hands were pressed lightly against the chair and his thigh muscles were tense, ready to spring up at the slightest provocation. Simon sat upright in the other armchair, perfectly still except for his eyes, which moved constantly, tracking everyone’s movements. I had the feeling that, if he’d been in cat form, his ears would have been flat to his head. Sera and I were on the remaining sofa. We were calmer, being more familiar with the situation, but we still weren’t teasing each other or, for that matter, even talking. It was hard to relax when one of the world’s oldest and most powerful elementals sat five feet away.

The source of all this tension sat at an enormous desk, silently sifting through the files Simon had pilfered from the feds. Josiah Blais had asked for the file when we first entered, gestured for us to sit, and then not spoken a single word for the last twenty minutes. No one dared to talk, fearful of interrupting his concentration. It didn’t matter that we were all adults. In his formidable presence, we felt like children.

I often wondered how Sera had been raised by this man without developing enough neuroses to keep her in therapy for the next hundred years or so. It was remarkable enough that she’d managed to maintain her vibrant character after her mother died when she was barely a teenager. To have this man then step in to raise her, with his overpowering, unpredictable personality, and still turn out as balanced as she was, spoke volumes about the iron-hard strength that lay within her.

Josiah was a purebred fire, and so diametrically opposed to the purebred waters who had raised me that he might have been a different species, so little did I understand him. Waters were fluid and flexible. While that fluidity rendered them quite adaptable, they still appeared consistent, much like a river coursing over rocks, always moving but remaining the same. Fires were far more mutable, reacting to the slightest stimulus and avoiding even the appearance of constancy. Josiah was intense and mercurial, prone to quick energetic movements and sudden fluctuations in volume, but he was equally likely to sit sullen and morose, staring into the flames that constantly burned near him. The only thing predictable about the man was his unpredictability, and that made people nervous. I suspected he liked it that way.

“They know nothing,” he suddenly announced, laughing. He closed the file and slid it into a desk drawer. “They believe it is an especially deranged human.” As abruptly as the laughter began, it ceased. He looked around the room slowly, making eye contact with each of us, seeming to weigh us each in turn. He looked at me last and seemed to stare for several seconds longer than he had with the others, until it became difficult to meet his gaze. I wondered how much he knew of my failures on the night of the fire. “It is good to see you again, Ms. Brook,” he said quietly. His voice gave nothing away. If he knew about my lack of control, he kept it to himself.

“You agree with us, though?” asked Sera. “You know it’s not?”

He stood up and began pacing the room, picking up random objects and placing them in new locations as he walked, the unnecessary movements highlighting his restless intensity. “The coincidences with the previous killings and the manner of death itself are compelling evidence. I am forced to agree with you, much as I might wish it were otherwise. We must end this, immediately, before anyone else makes the link to ten years ago.” Again, he stared at us all in turn, as if daring each person to be the one to stop it. Then he spun around, placing himself before the fireplace that took up the better part of one wall. He warmed his hands.

Vivian spoke up hesitantly. “Even if anyone does make that connection, no one would ever trace it to an elemental. Humans just don’t think that way, not on their own.”

“Yes, their lack of imagination has been well documented. I rely on it. However, it’s not a risk I am ever willing to take. No human should have evidence of our existence, regardless of whether or not they can identify it as such. Some day, one of them might actually be clever enough to doubt that science they hold so dear.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Also, I see no reason more humans should die. Now, inform me of all pertinent information not included in these files.” He suddenly stopped pacing and stood quietly in a corner, hands clasped in front of him. He bowed his head, eyes closed, as if demonstrating his readiness to listen. He looked like a repentant schoolboy, an image so at odds with reality it would have been comical in other circumstances.