Elemental: Chapter Six, Part 3

The figure had been a boy, slightly older than me, if not the same age, his pine colored hair tousled and damp from the now fading fog. Drei stood across the bed from me, staring out the window as the children scampered out of their cabins for breakfast. Both of us were waiting for him to stir. I sat curled in a corner of my room, staring at the boy, trying to find answers I wouldn’t have until he was conscious.

As soon as I had reached him, I half carried, half dragged him to Drei’s cabin—the closest one to where the boy had collapsed. He startled me with his haggard greeting. When he realized who it was, he transformed into something cuddlier; then his demeanor changed once more when he realized I wasn’t alone. He heaved the boy into his arms and carried him swiftly to my cabin. En route, he pumped me for what had happened. The first time through, I left out the urgency that had filled me so entirely; the interrogation following revealed this fact, and appeared to worry him more, forcing me to wonder if I had done the right thing.

Now he stood stoic, his back to me. Something unfriendly radiated from him and I curled into myself tighter, wishing the boy would wake soon and free me from the relentless worry.

My eyes again swept over his features, taking in the ragged clothing, the dark circles under his eyes, the strong chin and chiseled cheekbones. His revealed skin was scratched, covered in patches of soot, and sported the occasional burn. He must have been through more of an ordeal than I, and I wondered if he was an earth elemental, or if he was one at all. If he was, he had more of a reason to run than I did, whatever it may have been. This thought made me feel suddenly petty, as if my transformation over the last few months meant nothing: I was still the same girl, running for no reason other than for believing there was no way she could have survived as an outcast and a freak.

In that moment before he woke, I felt the changes I had made melt away, my shield of confidence slipping out of reach.

“Who are you?” Drei demanded when the boy rolled closer to the edge, coughing and heaving at my feet. Thankfully, nothing came spewing forth.

“Drei,” I gasped, shocked at his behavior and suddenly livid eyes. The force of his anger was incredibly powerful, nearly to the point of suffocating. I crawled to the boy’s side, rubbing his back to ease the coughing. He stopped a moment later, gazing into my eyes with his jade ones. “You’re safe,” I answered his unasked question. After a peek at Drei’s fuming figure, I added, “For now, at least.”

Drei jerked in our direction dangerously, and I was timorous for the boy. “Let me,” I pleaded, unsure how effective Drei’s tactics might be when he was scaring even me.

He nodded with some reluctance as the boy looked on, more curious and confused by the minute. I didn’t blame him. The relationship I had with Drei confused even me most days.

“Who are you?” I questioned slowly.

His lips twitched as he tried to form the words. I remembered waking up one morning and blacking out in the bathroom. When Mother found me, it took a moment to recover speech after such a dramatic shutdown. That was another incident I never wished to repeat. “Nick,” he managed in a coarse voice, a note of uncertainty slipping through.

My eyes found Drei’s and he nodded, insisting on more information. I hated how this seemed so much like bad cop/good cop.

“Where did you come from?”

“We live—” His forehead crinkled, as if he had forgotten something important. “We lived just outside of Winnsboro—before the fire.”

“Who else is with you?” I continued, hoping there wasn’t some other person passed out in the woods. If there was, I wasn’t sure how we’d ever find him or her.

He didn’t reply immediately, so I repeated the question.

“I heard,” Nick said patiently, his voice becoming less coarse. “They’re…they…none of them survived.” My gaze was held captive by his bright eyes, and I felt a prickling in my stomach. There was so much pain inside him, and it took everything in me not to start crying. I knew if I did, Drei would take over the questioning and that would be worse. “I’m the last one of my family; they all died.”

Elemental: Chapter Six, Part 2

Early in late February, I woke up, startled from sleep by a feeling of urgency in my chest. Even when I had sat in the rocking chair for what felt like an hour, the feeling hadn’t vanished. It grew worse, to the point where I couldn’t sit still. I had to be moving somewhere. I just didn’t know where.

Pulling on a pair of old sweats, a jacket, and my overused tennis shoes, I left the cabin behind me, jogging down to the path and concentrating on the inflating sense.

The sun had yet to break the horizon, but the sky was preparing for the transition. Gray loomed overhead, forbidding and yet welcoming. I found myself regarding it warily. It was the only thing not cast completely into silhouette by the light fog, another reminder of the snow-less winter.

I counted the cabins, watching their silent façades as I passed. The path swept away from the buildings where the vampires dwelt, but this morning, I didn’t stop to see if Drei was slipping into sleep. Just the thought repulsed me. Whether it was my own repulsion or the sense of urgency, I couldn’t be sure. I was sure that the further I ran, the more the feeling receded.

As I approached the crossroad into the forest, the sole marked exit from our haven, I thought I saw something flash in the corner of my eye. Looking up, I realized there was a small silhouette at the peak of the path, stumbling and weak, the sound of ragged breathing barely reaching me through the dangling water droplets. The figure stumbled and fell. I waited at the foot of the path, watching to see if it would stand again. When it didn’t, and I realized the urgency had dissipated, I sprinted up the path, terrified and hoping it wasn’t too late.

Elemental: Chapter Six, Part 1

Chapter Six: Something Unexpected

The following months flew past in an uneventful blur. Though Drei always seemed just a breath away, I had separated us further; I kept conversations brief with him, and all frivolous chatter to myself.  Despite this, he stopped by every night to lull me to sleep. The one night he didn’t, I couldn’t sleep at all. It wasn’t easy to keep him at arm’s length, but I knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Nearly every day my charges desired a new game. It wasn’t long before they seemed to forget they had ever fought. When this realization struck me, I decided it was time to develop games they could conduct without me. I spent the winter days sitting on the hillside, gazing out over their play and stranded in thought. Of my former friend group, I had been the one to think the most; that paled in comparison to my current preoccupations. I avoided unpleasant thoughts of the past and the circumstances leading me to this point, but I rather enjoyed the random philosophical questions that came to mind.

Occasionally, one of the children require my assistance with an injury or a problem. I would find bandages and disinfectant or listen attentively as the situation was revealed, offering what advice or mediation I could. Then, usually feeling better, he or she would run off to join back in the games.

There was a day, some weeks after my arrival, when I met the other vampires controlling my fate. I remembered a few—such as Lily with her pale locks and piercing blue eyes and Mitchell with his bald head, ebony skin, and gorgeous black eyes—but most I couldn’t recall even if someone whispered their names in my ear again. They were all too similar and equally quiet—at least in my presence. The meeting was largely a formal introduction; the entire time Drei spoke, I endured the feelings of animosity, annoyance, and doubt hanging in the room. Perhaps the real reason so many were forgettable to me was that my concentration had been spent more on trying to shield myself from their emotions instead of learning their names.

The one event managing to stay vivid in my memory was Christmas.

I knew the vampires were busy scavenging for presents; with only 12 of them and roughly 40 children, they had quite the workload. The only reason I knew, however, was because I noticed there were considerably fewer of them hanging around during any part of the day—I was fortunate enough to see Valetta only a few days a week, a vast improvement on three times a day.

On Christmas morning, we were all treated to a feast of sorts: bacon; eggs made sunny side up, scrambled, and pouring through the center of toast; sausage; milk; a variety of juices; and a wide selection of fresh fruits.

Then came the presents, brought out in heaping, velvet red sacks. Several of the children had also received gifts from their parents—I guessed from a P.O. Box in some nearby town. Personally, I wasn’t expecting anything. Christmas was more of a child’s and lover’s holiday in my opinion. Besides, I really didn’t need anything. Or so I told myself.

To my great surprise and delight, Mitchell approached me from the brightly littered slope of lawn and handed me a rectangular box.

“Here,” he said as I inspected the snowflake design for some telltale sign.

“Who’s it from?” I questioned after a moment.

His lips upturned into something more mischievous than jolly. “I would say Santa Claus, but something tells me you are too old to buy it.”

I steadied my gaze on him, a playful twist to my lips. “So what will you say?”

“It is a secret persona to whom I am supposed to report your reaction at a later time.”

After a moment more of staring—a vain hope I might wear him down—I slowly peeled back a corner of the paper.

“It is not surgery,” Mitchell teased.

Though the remark was rhetorical, I found myself saying, “I’m not four either.”

Beneath the cheap snowflake paper was a velvet box, the kind jewelry usually comes in. Popping open the lid, Mitchell craned his neck to sneak a peek as my free hand flew to my lips.

On the silk bed lay a minuscule gold chain—at least 14 karat gold if Mother dearest had taught me anything at all—supporting an angel constructed of different gems. Her head was a diamond with a golden halo, iolite wings, and an amethyst gown.

“Who gave this to me?” I repeated, my heart pounding.

Mitchell merely grinned secretively and loped away.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 7

Ten rounds, a new game, supper, and two bedtime stories later, I sat in the rocking chair in my room. I still felt a pit of loneliness swallowing me from the inside, but I noticed it a little less. Though this new life was fragile, it was shaping up better than my previous one. I had bonded with the others and helped them to see they have so much in common outside of elements.

“Congratulations.”

I jumped at Drei’s voice; I didn’t remember hearing him enter, and yet he stood in the doorway, looking at me with that soft smile of his. Then again, I had been preoccupied and hadn’t been listening for him.

“What for?”

He glided over, pulling me from the rocking chair.

“For starting over,” he whispered, something in his eyes questioning why I even had to ask.

“Oh, that,” I said breezily, waving my hand limply off to the side.

“And for bringing the children together.”

“Have they always been like that?”

“I am afraid so. They felt there were no similarities between different elementals.”

“Well, no more…I hope,” I added, realizing one day wouldn’t completely reverse years of opinion.

A bemused smile played on his lips, and I had that impulse to hug him again, thanking him for everything. Who knows what might have happened if I had never met him, or left, or anything. The future leaders would still be fighting amongst themselves and I might have had a bittersweet reunion with my mom.

“Thank you,” I settled for instead, sliding between the sheets and nestling into my pillow. The mattress was hard and reminded me of sleeping on the ground. A month ago, that may have bothered me. It was comforting not everything had changed.

“Sleep well, Abriel,” Drei whispered, a chill hand brushing hair out of my face.

“A story?” I requested softly, suppressing a yawn.

“Some other night,” he replied softly as I fell into a deep sleep.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 6

They gathered on dry ground near the lake’s shore, bathed in sunlight. For the first time, I realized how different the groups were from each other. Most of the earth elementals possessed varying shades of brown hair and eyes, while the water elementals were mostly blonde and blue-eyed. I wondered if air elementals were just a jumble of anything, or if they were similar to Mom and me.

“What’s with the feathers?” Danny asked, skeptically.

Michelle added, “None of us can do anything with them.”

“Not with your elements,” I conceded, glancing around, hoping everyone was listening. “But I can do plenty. Today, we’re going to learn to end this silly segregation of the elementals.”

“This is how it’s always been, though,” an older boy from the water elementals piped up. He didn’t say it in a demeaning way. If I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded somber about it.

“Name?” I asked.

“Jake.”

“Well, Jake,” I replied, “we’re ending that business today. We’re here because we’re going to make changes in the world. And if we aren’t united, how can we expect anyone to unite with us?”

A few of the older children agreed this was a good point, while some of the younger children smiled or made faces at the other group. I was beginning to think all they needed was someone on their level to instigate a change instead of perpetuate what had become the norm; I just hoped it worked and I wasn’t blowing steam.

“So,” I began, drawing attention back to me, “we’re going to play a game, and I’m going to lead it.”

“What do we do?” a small, dark skinned earth elemental asked. “Mikael,” he said quickly, as though it were an afterthought.

“Mikael, what we’re going to do is this.” I lifted one of the feathers and made a show of blowing a little air underneath to give it lift. They watched, mesmerized by the feather now floating over their heads. It drifted under my will toward a girl on the outside of the water elemental group. Knowing an argument would ensue if I didn’t even it out, I sent another unseen feather toward a boy in the center of the earth elemental group. The first feather ducked under her long golden waves while the other slipped into his pocket.

“No fair!” someone shouted from the earth party.

Many more cries of injustice filled the air while the water party complained it was only right. I caught the eye of the boy with the feather in his pocket and sent a whisper to his ear. He pulled out the feather and silenced everyone on his side by showcasing his own treasure. “It is fair,” he insisted, standing. When they finally took notice of him and quieted, he added, “Derek.”

The girl stood also, saying, “Xenia.”

“Each round, two people will have a feather,” I went on to explain, “except you won’t know who, only the people with feathers will. You all have to work together to figure it out. When you have six candidates, we’ll see if you chose right. The winners will either be those with feathers or everyone else.”

“Bethanie,” a dark blond, tanned girl said, raising her hand. “So it’s a guessing game?”

“Sort of,” I admitted. “But there’s a twist. You have to question each other, but you can’t question anyone from your elemental group. And no one is allowed to lie; I’ll know if you do.”

“Kora,” a pale brunette said suddenly. “Because you’re special?”

“Because I’m an air elemental,” I corrected. Drei might have thought it was special and unique, but I wasn’t going to buy into that with them; it would probably only backfire. Besides, bringing them together was about emphasizing our similarities despite our differences.

They were unsure about my claim since they’d never met an air elemental before. Then Jake pointed out I had made the feather fly and they all agreed this was perfectly plausible. It was something I missed from my childhood: the undeniable way something so simple can lessen the complexity of a question.

Thus the game began. It was interesting to see them mingle as if they had done it forever. The most enjoyable aspect of the game, however, was listening to all the creative ways people denied having the feather when they did. Thanks to water in the blood and contact with the earth, most of them could tell when someone was nervous or excited, so the feather holders lost more than the whole. By the end of the third game, there were no more snide accusations toward others, just curiosity filled requests. The change, in just a few hours, was incredible. If only adults could be like these children; special or not, they had accomplished a sense of—hopefully enduring—unity.

Valetta approached us toward the end of our tenth round. Both of the feather holders were in the six candidates and the group won again. Even though the feather holders lost, the two joined in the celebration of cheers.

She cleared her throat. Immediately, the children faced her, silent, but joy still burst inside them and apparent in their anxious stirring. They wanted another game and she was an interruption that demanded attention and respect. “It is time for lunch,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the whines and disappointed fussing. “Please line up.”

They obediently slumped up the slope to where vampires were waiting to pass out meals.

Valetta gave me a look before stalking away. She was either curious as to what I had done, or envious that she had been unable to do it herself. Either way, it was nowhere near the friendly smile she had showered upon Drei earlier.

I waited until last to receive my lunch. When I arrived where the children were sitting, I was somewhat surprised—though mostly relieved—to see the groups were demolished. It became even more obvious from the way they flocked around me, asking me to sit with them and show them more tricks. Some even requested I create a new game for the next day. Their words were filled with excitement and wonder, and their eyes overflowed with adoration. Something about the whole situation made me feel important and less petty than I knew I had been. It was uplifting.

A shame I still felt alone.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 5

Once he was gone, the children began their games again. Walking closer to the cabin he had disappeared into, I pretended to observe the children playing in their separate groups, but I was really trying to figure out how to bring the inside conversation to me without it being too obvious. I wanted to fulfill Drei’s expectations of me and prevent any trouble below—I had already noticed the difference between those with stronger powers and those with weaker, I wasn't sure that would be a problem since they seemed to play well together. However, I had a feeling the vampires were talking about me.

The thought of treating the air like a rope and pulling the conversation to me came suddenly and ingeniously. Taking immediate action on the idea, splitting my concentration—okay, so I was less concerned with watching over the kids—the first trickling of conversation reached my ears.

“—needed protection,” Drei was saying.

Another voice piped in, supporting him; “She is an air elemental, and might be the one of which Gloria dreamt.”

A feminine voice fought back; “She lost control, Drei. Even this far away the news stations were broadcasting the story.”

“Lori has a point,” a masculine voice agreed. “Even if it is reported as mere gossip, bounty hunters never leave anything alone.”

“On top of that,” someone—more than likely Valetta—added, “she ran away. They will interpret it as guilt.”

“Or,” Drei argued, “they will view it as a quest for her mother, disbelieving her father when he admitted she was reported dead.”

“You planted that on purpose,” an angry voice rose up.

Drei wore a smirk in his voice as he said, “As a scapegoat. I knew we needed one—for her safety.”

“And what of everyone else’s safety?” a new voice demanded.

“Yes, what of everyone else?” Lori questioned, her voice level though still livid. “You would risk the entire operation on a child we cannot even verify is the right one?”

“Trust—”

The conversation broke away as a mud ball hit my arm and splattered across my shirt. A fight had broken out between the two groups of children, leaving a discombobulation of mud in their wake.

I ran into the chaos, yelling at them to stop, demanding what was going on. It took them a moment, but eventually they separated into their groups, shooting daring glances across the distance between them. Though I had never babysat or had any siblings to practice on, some undiscovered maternal or sisterly instinct came over me. “One from each of you. Who started the fight?”

The groups vomited forth a person each. A girl with long, fair hair and bright blue eyes dug a foot into the mud, standing before her counterparts of water elementals, clots of mud caught in her locks and smeared across her dress. The earth elementals relented a tanned boy with shaggy, chocolate hair and cinnamon eyes, soaked through, looking like a drowned hamster.

“What happened?” I asked gently, not wanting them to feel as though they were in enough trouble to keep quiet.

Each pointed furiously at the other, shouting their side of the story in a collision of words that made no sense at all.

“Stop!” I yelled to be heard over them, quickly feeling a headache coming on. Their eyes fell to the ground again, taking in the soggy messes they had become. “You start,” I suggested, turning towards the boy. “Start with your name.”

“Danny,” he said softly. Then his head jerked up violently as he pointed cruelly at the girl, screaming, “She started it. She wouldn’t leave us alone and was ruining all of our castles and sculptures!”

Immediately she reacted with her own screeching, the words lost in his furious volley of response.

“Cut it out!” I screamed, this time failing to be heard in the rising raucous quickly engulfing all of them. For a moment, I stood despaired, uncertain what to do. Mud began flying again and a large pat of it slapped me in the cheek, ending my indecision. “ENOUGH!” I shrieked, sending mini gales in each direction, further separating them but efficiently silencing both parties. I suddenly felt as if I were caught up in an ugly political debate or a loveless version of Romeo and Juliet. That feeling definitely wasn’t helping my growing headache.

“You,” I exhaled, turning to the girl. “Speak.” I quickly turned again to the earth elementals and glared, daring them to renew the fighting.

“I’m Michelle,” she pouted. “Nothing would have happened if their stupid dirt had stayed over there and hadn’t gotten into our water.” Michelle turned her face up toward mine, a pleading look for sympathy in her aquamarine gems. “Water gets so heavy with dirt in it, and then it isn’t any fun because it’s not pretty or clear.”

“And air is heavy with arguing when little—” I paused, not wanting to call them snots or anything excessively inappropriate. “—children are not playing well together.”

All of their heads ducked down, and I felt slightly like the bad guy in a fairytale. But they needed to shape up, really. There was no reason they had to even separate. This was almost worse than Drei’s assumption they teased the kids with weaker abilities; it almost broke my heart seeing no one get along.

I bit my lip, unsure where to go from here, the surge of sisterly instinct dissipating. “Go change into something clean and then come back. We’re going to do something to get you all together.” The start of a plan was on the tip of my mind. I hoped sending them off for a short while would give me enough time to lure it out and develop it into something more complete.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 4

The children were sitting as though separated by an invisible barrier. On one side, they played with crumbling sand castles and sent little dirt figures walking through their constructed towns. A boy stood off on his own, drawing flowers and other plants up from the ground and into full bloom within seconds, some of the plants looking more like hybrid versions of others. On the other side, they were preoccupied with buckets of water, drawing the liquid up into fountains and sculpting them into obscure shapes before freezing them in place. One girl in their group was experimenting wrapping water about herself in an elegant ball gown of shifting design.

There was a splashing sound accompanied by the sight of water falling and dirt crumbling around the two groups—to the detriment of their clothes—at the sight of Drei. From their reaction, I assumed they rarely saw him, but knew it was important to give their attention fully to him when he was present. If I wasn’t mistaken, some of the youngest in the group were afraid of him. But that didn’t seem plausible. Unless, perhaps, they found ways to regularly anger him.

“It is not even an hour after breakfast and you already have made a mess,” Drei said; the attempt at a playful tone failed. None of them offered anything except steady gazes locked on him for dear life. A few thought it fairly brave to sneak peeks in my direction, the wonderment in their eyes leading me to feel important, possibly even special. When they remained silent, Drei continued; “Children, this is Abriel.” A sweeping hand found its way toward me, drawing their obedient eyes in my direction. “She is different from all of you, but you will discover that soon enough. You will be polite and respectful to her, because she will be watching over you during the day."

They nodded, peeling their eyes from me.

He turned to me, saying, “Eventually you will meet the others, but not today.”

I nodded in much the same fashion as the children, but it was obvious the way he spoke to me was very different from the way he spoke to them, and none of them failed to notice.

Drei whispered, “You will be fine,” just above my ear before walking away toward a group of the tall, dark figures I presumed to be the other vampires; the very same others I would meet some other day.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 3

A shiver ran down my spine as Drei laid a hand on my shoulder. It was harmless enough, but I couldn’t imagine why he would want to touch someone as imperfect as me.

“Come. You can rest awhile in your room,” Drei suggested, sounding almost like my dad for a moment. “You will meet the others when they have awoken and had breakfast.” He looked down at me, not disgusted or repelled, but not smiling either. Drei wasn’t going to disprove Valetta’s claim on him. There was a kindness, though, that he hoped would make me feel more secure. Unfortunately, it didn’t, despite my wishing it would.

I followed him, even more self-conscious than before, certain everyone would hate me and I would end up running away from where I ran away to. A question appeared in my mind, asking what I had been thinking to believe anything would be better.

Drei led me along a path that provided an excellent view over the lake, its sparkling waters seeming to mock me. The path was well worn, bearing only the occasional pebble. My eyes followed its ragged edge, unaware of the fairly steep slope falling to the lake’s shore. Something cold erupted inside me, causing me to shiver. I felt Drei look worriedly at me, but he didn’t say anything. His wordless response sent more traitorous beliefs into my turbulent mind. The most prominent being I had been wrong, yet again.

My feet followed him up new wooden stairs, stained and mussed to give the impression of age. Their sturdiness told otherwise.

“Here we are,” he stated at the top of the stairs.

I looked up at the nondescript front of the cabin; it was so far from where we had entered, I wondered if he had chosen this cabin on purpose.

He followed my slow ascent to the door, an anxious air drifting about him. Immediately inside was a small living space, complete with rugged chairs, a worn-out table, and a faded, sagging sofa in a hideous mauve hue. Just to the left was a small bedroom owning a single bed, old and rundown, but well cared for, as well as a well-kept rocking chair, the intricate carvings along the edges smelling recently refurbished.

Drei followed me with his eyes as I drew near the chair, my fingers running along the smoothed designs. As I gazed at it, something inside admitted I’d be all right here, even if everyone else hated me. At least this space could be mine. This chair alone felt more like home than my father’s house, and that was enough.

“Do you like it?” he questioned tentatively.

I turned, shocked at hearing his voice. For a moment I just stared, forgetting he had asked a question. Turning to look at the drab room containing the welcoming rocking chair, I replied, “It’s perfect.”

Part of me wanted to hug him, and yet I knew that would be inappropriate. There had been no problem with our closeness outside the world; but back inside, I knew it couldn’t be. He had Valetta, after all.

“Delighted,” he responded, a soft smile on his lips. “You are by yourself for now, but there is another room.”

His insinuation was obvious, but I could care less about a roommate. All that mattered was this room was mine. From my duffel bag, I pulled out my favorite blanket—a feathery soft material in pale beige with a silk scarlet border—and draped it over the thin sheets on the bed. I also removed a small matching throw pillow. Though there were other miniature decorations I could have given a new home, now didn’t feel like the time, so I slid the duffel into a corner.

Drei walked down the length of the bed, a pale finger trailing along my blanket. He met me at the foot. “Are you set?”

The sensation to hug him again was startlingly tempting as traces of his flowery scent reached me, but I kept my distance. “Yes,” I replied, a smile solidly on my lips. My emotions continued to yo-yo but for the moment, I felt calm and somewhat excited. It was time to meet the others.

Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 2

Halfway through the night, we came upon a worn dirt path and Drei confirmed this six-mile road led straight to our final destination: a lake and campground. We moved onward, unable to decide on anything to discuss; I didn’t wish to bring up his conversation, and he didn’t want to let on anything was wrong.

The awkwardness was expelled as the trees thinned enough to reveal waters sparkling under an orange and pink sun. Nestled in the falling shadows were rundown cabins, small two-room shacks lucky to be standing.

“Are you sure this is it?” It didn’t seem inhabited, or even suitable for habitation.

“Do not fret. They are all asleep. We are merely early.” He started ahead of me, continuing his introductory speech of my new, hopefully temporary, home. “You will notice, when you meet the children, they are mostly between the ages of five and fourteen. Most leave when they turn fifteen, confident they are able to conceal themselves, and most are. Those who are still here often enjoy playing games, exercising the extent of their powers;” he looked over his shoulder at me as if accusing me of such a game. “One of your main occupations here will be ensuring those who are more powerful do not lower the esteem of those with a weaker elemental gift.”

“What if my own gift is weak?” I questioned aloud, suddenly concerned with my own power, never before realizing it might be a concern. It didn’t seem likely, but it still concerned me. It was almost like realizing drinking diet soda could give you cancer.

Drei stopped a moment and smiled kindly at me. “You have no need to worry. Air elemental gifts are rare enough, those who possess them, rarely are weak in their ability.” His glance disappeared over his shoulder again as I withheld my sigh of relief. I really was comforted to know I wasn’t defective or anything. “There is nothing to worry about. Even if their gift is weak, their influence remains strong.”

I allowed his words to stew a little in my mind. Then something odd struck me about the whole situation. “Don’t the parents ever worry?” I inquired, my brow furrowing. “About the children, that is?”

His head nodded slightly, as though he were teaching and a student had just made a point he was about to disprove. “The non-elemental parents are led to believe the children are attending a highly exclusive, entirely charitably funded, boarding school. It is not a complete lie. But you understand we could not just admit this was a ten year camp. The elemental parents are fully aware of our purpose.”

I nodded, breathing deeply and trying not to feel self-conscious about possibly being the only runaway; besides, I had another question screaming for attention. I shoved it aside; Drei didn’t want any more conversation. I could tell by the way his long strides quickened, his hands burrowed in his coat pockets, and his face hid, bowed, from the sparkling morning light. He was closing himself off, very possibly from me.

We were just breaking through to the clearing when Drei stopped and said, “I cannot explain why the government hunts you, other than they want to completely remove miracles from life.”

His reply to my unasked inquiry was startling. The one thing I wanted more than anything else to truly understand and he didn’t have a definite answer. I wasn’t sure how this news was supposed to make me feel. I knew, however, I felt increasingly distraught; I never meant to be a burden on anyone. And yet, though I hadn’t entered the camp, it felt as though I already was—if the night’s visitor was any insinuation. Now, I had runaway—probably the sole person at the camp to have done so—and because the government wanted to erase miracles? It was disconcerting to say the least.

Just as the thought of running away—again—came to mind, Drei gazed at me, a soft smile playing across his lips; the kind I only saw when he spoke about his sisters.

“Do not fret about a thing, Abriel. I shall protect you so long as you desire it so.”

With that smile, all of my doubts and worries were washed away. If I were a burden, Drei would have left me miles ago. But he hadn’t. He was standing here, a few paces away.

“Now, come. They should be waking shortly.”

I followed a step behind Drei, shy at the thought of meeting children who had known who they were longer than I had. It was humbling and nerve-wracking. What if they hated me? Or, worse yet, knew about my shallow history? That was one thing I wanted to leave behind me forever. It hadn’t brought me happiness and I wanted to lead a life that did.

Tall figures exited some of the shelters, a few carrying baskets full of something I couldn’t make out. Most of the figures with baskets moved towards a level, grassy area not far from the lake; one of them, however, made a beeline for Drei and me.

“Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully. Her long black hair curled at the ends, falling to her slim waist; her skin was waxy in a way not many could pull off. Even her eyes were gorgeously dark and mysterious, hiding her emotions in their raven depths. The dress she wore—for she did wear it and not vice versa—was long and flowing in an onyx hue that complimented her skin tone immaculately. In general, she was inhumanly stunning. She was also the visitor from earlier in the woods. “Welcome back, Drei,” she said, a smile on her thin, ashen lips. “And welcome, Abriel,” she added, offering the basket of breads and fruit to me.

I was at a loss for words. Here she was, the perfect image of vampire queen, and I was crushing on her guy. No wonder she was so distressed earlier.

“No thank you,” I replied to her unsaid offer, feeling my stomach disappear in a flurry of guilt. “I’m not hungry.”

My gaze cast downward, I felt the impulse to run more urgently than before. I was inadequate, and couldn’t compete against someone like her. Why hadn’t he said anything and just crushed my imaginings then? It would have saved me looking like the fool I was.

“Thank you, Valetta,” Drei said, reaching for something in the basket. “I’ll show Abriel to her cabin.”

“Very well, then,” she responded, still cheerily, though there was a hint of disapproval.

She sashayed elegantly away, tossing a flow of dark hair over her shoulder. There was no doubt in my mind she claimed him; short of shoving her tongue down his throat, she couldn’t have made it more clear.