House Down the Hill, Part 8

Although the room is equally devoid of light, the kitchen seems brighter for its white counters and floors. There are three doors in the space, one leading outside, one shut tightly, and the third cracked open. I slink to the open one, careful not to touch it. I hold my breath as I shine my light through the crack, preparing to see stairs or, worse, some horribly disfigured face.

It’s a laundry room. A broken plastic basket sits on an old top loading washer. Just as I begin to breathe a little easier, I hear footsteps. Heavy, plodding footsteps. They’re coming from behind the closed door, the sound louder and more distinct with each passing moment. Any thoughts of proving my sanity are forgotten as I dash back through the living room, taking the shortest path to the—

Falling, and my own shrill voice filling my ears as something hard scrapes against my side and the streetlight outside disappears from my vision. I bat the carpet from around me and marvel at the hole above me. Then I remembered the woman last night had mentioned termites.

I flash the light around the room. It’s damp down here and smells of mold and mildew, but there are no chains or weapons or torture devices. There is no trace of blood or furniture of any kind. There isn’t even an echo of footsteps anymore. Just plain cement walls, rotted wood, a dusty old beast of a rug, and a single wooden door. I want to laugh and cry all at the same time. I’m going to live; there isn’t some psychopath waiting to kill me—if there was, I reason, he would have come back down stairs the moment I started screaming and falling. But all this didn’t explain what I had been hearing. I know I had heard it,but there wasn’t anything to prove it.

Discouraged but calm, I decide it’s time to go back, shower, and sleep. I roll around onto my knees and pain immediately shoots up through my right leg. My second attempt, I shift my leg to put less pressure and weight on it and excruciating pain seizes my entire body.

“It’s okay, Suze,” I tell myself aloud, taking the bag from my shoulders and starting to sift through it. “You’ll just call…or you won’t call 911.”

In all my planning, I have failed to remember my cell phone. I panic, realizing it isn’t yet one in the morning and I’m trapped, immobile in a house no one wants to go near. I start screaming for help, hoping there are yet one or two stragglers from late night excursions who might help me or at least call the duty phone. After a while, I realize it’s futile to waste my voice until morning. I spend my time trying to stand up. I even scoot to a wall, grimacing and biting my lip until my mouth fills with a strong coppery fluid. With much pain and effort, I find a way to my good foot and hobble to the door.

For a moment, I think I might be able to at least make it to the window. Then I see the narrow staircase. Not only is it about as wide as I am, but the stairs are steep and my left leg already feels like giving out on me. The thought of sitting down and going up backwards crosses my mind, but the stairs aren’t stone. Not only am I unsure if I could even use my arms to help push me up each step with as narrow as it is, but I can’t tell if the stairs are sturdy all the way up. The last thing I want to be is stuck in a staircase in a house no one will go near.

The February chill seeps into the basement, quickly permeating my skin. I pull my black sweater tighter around me, but I’m starting to shiver. Slumping carefully against a wall, I pull the heavy carpet over me. It may be grimy, but at least it’s something.

House Down the Hill, Part 7

While Catherine is away at class—which I opt not to attend today—I prepare a bag of supplies for that night. I find a hammer and a heavy monkey wrench in the toolkit in my car. After searching a while, I’m able to locate the flashlight in my backseat as well. It all goes into a little shoulder bag with my camera. Back in my room, it takes me some time to find a suitable outfit for the night, something all in black. It makes me feel like I’m in a movie, which makes the whole ordeal seem less real. I know it very much is real and my sanity relies on proving it. I’m not sure I can take the rest of the semester waking up to someone screaming bloody murder all night or someone pounding on the door again. I’m not crazy and I’m going to prove it.

My heart is racing the entire time I’m lying in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Catherine is snoring tonight; I think she’s coming down with a bug. I’m waiting for the screaming to start because it means the figure is inside the house and not outside my door. It starts about 12:30, as shrill as ever. I jump from my bed, swing the bag over my shoulder and head out. Shaking and scared or not, this ends tonight.

The walk to the house is eerie. Clouds hide the moon and stars while streetlights cast the trees as long spindly shadows. There is no one around, no parties raging on at the fraternities further down the hill, and no one shouting or playing on any of the athletic fields nearby. It seems even the residents of the apartment building have all turned in early, leaving the night desolate, with no one else to hear the screaming and pleading coming from within those mismatched walls.

All of the stories seem to suggest the psychopath uses the back and side doors. I’m hoping that means the front will be clear. With my size and the height of the windows, it also makes the most sense if I’m breaking in—uh, investigating. The screams are so loud standing on the porch, I want to cover my ears and cower in my fort. But I can’t; not if I want to prove to everyone I’m not insane.

I take out the hammer and wait for the scream to be loudest before swinging at the plywood. It takes quite a while, but eventually the wood gives way to a dark and dusty room. The hammer returns to my bag and I replace it in my hands with the flashlight and monkey wrench. My flashlight illuminates the sparsely furnished place. A few wooden chairs dot the room, all of them tipped over. An old faded carpet sits heavy in the middle of the floor, the tassels still a beige color showing through here and there from underneath the grime. There’s an end table with the remains of a lamp near a doorway with a fridge visible just beyond.

The screaming hasn’t yet stopped, so I hope if I’m less than graceful, my noise will be covered up. I swing a leg over the window sill, steadying myself as I bring the other one over and twist to face the interior. A shadow appears in the corner of my eye, causing me to almost fall backward through the window. I shine my flashlight in that direction, only to find a rocking chair with a coat draped over the back. Sighing, I slowly slip into the room.

The screaming sounds like it’s coming from the basement. As soon as I realize this, it stops. My heart is pounding in my chest and I’m sure the shadowy figure can hear it. He hears it and he’ll come bounding up the stairs any moment now to silence it. I push the thought out of my mind and begin to move towards the kitchen, walking along the outside of the room. It always seems the stairs to the basement are in the kitchen, especially in horror movies.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 9

“You no longer need me,” Drei said, gazing down at me. “I do love you, Abriel. Please do not think I will ever stop loving you. But right now, I need something for myself, something to do, some reason to continue on.”

“But I need you,” I persisted, a twinge of whining slipping into my voice.

He opened his mouth to protest again but I put a finger to his lips to stop him.

“It’s why I didn’t give you another job,” I said, hoping it wasn’t too late. If it was, I deserved everything that came of it. “Because I need you with me. This whole vampire thing is still new to me, Drei. I still need you to take care of me, to make sure I stay healthy because you and Caroline both know I have a nasty tendency to overestimate myself—Ian, too,” I admitted, though it was hard to do. Tears started filling my eyes, though I pushed them back. I didn’t want him to stay because he didn’t want to see me cry; I wanted him to stay because he felt needed here; because he could find what would make him happy here. “I can’t afford to overestimate myself now,” I whispered, swallowing, hoping my throat would clear and my voice would stop wavering. “Everything…everyone is relying on me. I would die if I let them down.”

“Do you—”

“Every word,” I promised, holding his gaze steadily, even if my voice was no longer so. I took his hands and put them on my hips. “I need you to take care of me, Drei—because I’m really, really bad at that.”

A slight smile crossed his lips as he nodded. “I agree with that.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, his hands slipped from my hips so his arms were around my waist. “Will you stay?” I asked, having to look away before I really did start crying. This could go one of two ways: he could let go, apologizing and walk out the door anyway, or he could hold me tighter and say he’d stay. Though I knew there were two options, the longer I waited, the more it seemed like there only was one. My mind even started playing through how I would be if he left, suggesting I would start crying and no one could make me feel better and everything would fall apart.

“I love you…so much,” he said into my hair.

This was it, I found myself thinking. I dreaded hearing the apology because that would mean I was right, and I couldn’t argue with him because I would have received my just desserts. After three fourths of a year, more than that even, I still hadn’t talked to him as I had said I would.

“I shall stay with you.”

Despite his answer, I buried my face in his chest and cried as he held me closer with one arm, the other smoothing my hair.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, pulling slightly away, smiling kindly down at me.

Wiping tears out of my eyes with one hand, I answered, “Because I was so scared you would leave, and it would be my fault.”

Kissing my forehead, he assured me, “While it would have been partially your fault if I had left, it would have been the hardest thing I had done in years.”

“Then why were you going to leave?”

“Because hard things are still things that should be done.” Wiping a tear from my cheek, he tapped my nose. “But you have convinced me this is one thing I should not do.”

Smiling at him, my eyes probably watery, I asked if he needed help unpacking. He declined, saying I should sleep instead.

“Can’t I work a little longer?” I pleaded with him, having hoped to catch up with at least the old topics. Yes, the forums were a great source of feedback, but I also really enjoyed reading the varying responses.

“If I am to stay, you should listen to me,” he said, leaning closer to me.

“But there’s no fun in that,” I teased, bending backwards, smiling as he bent over to follow me.

“I never said there would be;” he caught my lips with his, both of us bent practically in half and slowly righting ourselves as we kissed. Drei pulled me closer to him, suddenly stopping. “You really should sleep now.”

“You’re evil,” I breathed, my lips barely brushing against his as I spoke. “If there’s more of this, I could listen better.”

“That is not you speaking,” he said, pulling a little further away. “That is your vampire’s lust.”

“My vampire is me, though.”

“When you can control her,” he countered, giving me a small kiss before sweeping me into his arms and heading toward the bedroom. He stopped any protestations I might have given by saying, in a very final tone, “You are to sleep now.”

When he set me down on the bed, exhaustion washed over me. I hadn’t realized I was tired, but then I was a specialist at denying it.

“Always pushing your limits,” Drei mused, crouching by the bed and smoothing the hair out of my face.

 I smiled sheepishly at him, my eyes closing. “That’s why I need you; so you can push back.”

“If you listen to me,” he mocked, pressing his forehead to mine.

“You’re not going to run off while I sleep, are you?” I asked before yawning and closing my eyes.

“No,” he promised, holding my hand now. “I have a purpose now.”

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 5

Smoothing the hair out of his face, I realized how much he had grown up from two years ago. His eyes and facial structure hadn’t changed at all, but the set of his jaw seemed more serious than playful. His skin was dark as if he had spent a lot of time outside, or maybe it was dark in comparison to my paling skin. He was already starting to show crow’s feet though, and laugh lines from smiling so much. It was almost like he was aging faster than most people did, or perhaps that was just in comparison to me.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t told me I’ve changed,” I said softly, sitting back. My fingers were still running through his damp hair—it was really soft and I found the repetition of movement soothing.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to hear it,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “That feels really good, by the way.”

Smirking, I asked, “So do I look different?”

One of his jade gems flashed up at me before he answered, “You’re paler, you seem more serious, and you’re cool to the touch, even when other people are hot and sweaty.”

Nodding, I thanked him. No one else had said how I was different, just that I was, and hearing how actually made me feel less worried. For a while I was wondering if I had a huge sign painted on my forehead saying “different” and I was the only one who didn’t know.

“You and Drei are closer,” he said, starting to fully relax, one of his hands dangling off the side of the couch now. At least one of us could relax. “Does that have anything to do with you changing?” When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Aren’t you two worried about being found out?”

After a moment I knew I had to say something, even if it meant he would know both answers. “Things are different now.”

His eyes flew open and I felt his muscles tense. “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” I said, holding his eyes steadily. “Things are different now.”

He sat and spun to face me. “A—”

“Leirba,” I interrupted before he could screw everything up. To most of the public, Abriel had died more than a year ago, mysteriously disappearing from the hospital where they attempted a surgery to save her life after she had been admitted for a gunshot wound. Not to mention Abriel was supposed to have died before that, at the docks, after having successfully escaped one of the secret government “research labs” that conveniently doubled as an elemental prison. Leirba was safe from both death and the government—for a short while anyway.

Nick bit his bottom lip, holding back his frustration; he wanted to be straightforward about this and using an alternate name felt like a game. He was too easy to read when he was upset.

Before he could say anything else, I sighed and suggested, “We should go back to the room if we’re going to have this discussion.”

“Why? I thought things were different now?” he snipped childishly, his eyes watery. He even looked younger as his lips pouted—unintentionally.

“Because if this is going where I think it is,” I replied, grabbing my notebook and pulling him behind me, “then it still has to stay a secret.”

“Oh, so it’s a secret that he—”

Whipping my head around, I glared at him. He might have been taller than me, but I was more powerful and he knew that; I’d pushed him across a room once when he wasn’t listening to me. Nick shushed immediately and didn’t say a word until the door was closed behind us.

“He bit you.” It wasn’t a question.

“There were circumstances,” I said, staring out the window at the wintry sky. Halloween wasn’t too far off but it may as well have been the middle of February.

“What circumstances excuse him turning you into a…”

“I was dying,” I murmured under him. It took him a moment to realize I had said anything, thus his voice trailing off. He moved to stand before me at the window, one hand on my shoulder.

“What?” He forced himself to be calmer now so he would hear me.

“I was dying,” I repeated, my eyes following a few late birds through the sky. “The doctors had done what they could…so Drei did what he could.”

“You asked for this?” Nick asked, his voice soft with a note of betrayal.

“No;” his eyes were still watery but more from hurt than anything else. And it wasn’t hurt for himself. “I thought I was dead.”

“That’s why you’re going—”

“By Leirba, and it’s very important we stick to it.” I held his gaze a second longer before concentrating outside again. “It makes things complicated, but time is time.”

“You have more than time,” he said as though I hadn’t thought about it. “You have eternity.”

“So now you know.” When he didn’t move, as if waiting for me to say something else, I told him, “You handled it better than Mitchell and Valetta.”

Another silence enveloped us and I hated it. I wasn’t sure why, but more and more lately, I felt the compulsion to fill any silence in conversations. When I was alone, it was perfectly fine; but when I was with someone else, the silence only aggravated me and I had no explanation for it.

“Ready for tomorrow?” I wondered if he really knew that’s what I had switched to thinking about or if he was just trying to change the subject.

“No,” I confessed, still not looking at him. Some part of me felt like looking at him would reveal something he wasn’t saying. And if that was true, I was certain it wouldn’t be something helpful to my nerves or situation.

Pulling me into his strong arms as he had done before when I was scared or crying or both, I started feeling better. It wasn’t as effective as Drei saying a few words and touching my cheek or hand, but it still worked.

“If you start to get nervous, just remember I’ll be standing out in the audience,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m here for you.”

Wrapping my arms around him, too, I let him comfort me, allowing his confidence to sink into and fill me. Tomorrow would be great. I just had to breathe, stay calm and optimistic, and remember most of the people who would be there were already partially on my side. And Nick would be there if I started to panic.

How did I end up so lucky?

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 3

“How so?” I leaned forward, resting my chin on the heels of my palms. Finally, I would have an answer and, this time, it wasn’t to my own problem. Though I was certain this wasn’t a good thing he was about to tell me, I was grateful for the distraction.

“I remember when Caroline first told me she was a fire elemental, though, then, we didn’t know that was the name for it. It wasn’t long after I came into my own powers; I think we were 13 or 14. But I told her because it was really crazy what had happened—I mean, it wasn’t anything huge or particularly obvious, but suddenly I was hearing conversations and animals and the like when they weren’t even nearby,” he explained, leaning forward on his elbows. “It wasn’t spectacular, but it was like my hearing had improved 10 fold. And she was the first person I told.

“When I did, she told me I shouldn’t tell people about it because it made me look crazy and no one wanted to associate with a loony. So I asked her what right she had to say that, thinking she was just jealous. Then she explained it was what her parents told her.” Shaking his head, he tapped his fingers on the counter top. When he met my gaze again, he continued, “I didn’t believe her at first and then she lit a fire in her palm. Well, lit isn’t the right word, but you understand what I mean.”

I nodded, remembering when she had done the same to me upon our first encounter. That memory brought a smirk to my lips; her little fire didn’t last long after I pulled the air around it away. It was our exchange of secrets and the whole reason she took me on in the first place. “What did you do?”

“I told her we couldn’t both be crazy and then had to go home. When I told my grandmother she explained what was happening and told me it didn’t make me crazy; it just meant I had to be more careful about where and when I did things. She told me I was free to experiment in my room if I kept the curtains and the door closed, but nowhere else. I also asked if she could teach me things, but that’s when I found out it was her mother, not her, who had been an air elemental before me. She told me not even my father had it; she also said it made me special.”

“Well, it does. What about Caroline?”

“When I told her what my grandmother had said, she didn’t believe me. Instead, she put more stock into what her parents had said, fighting me for well over an hour before storming off to go home. The next day she didn’t show up at school, so I went to the soda shop on the square, her favorite one. Sure enough, she was there with a root beer float, crying in a corner. She tried acting like she hadn’t been crying, but she gave up when I sat down and told her I wasn’t leaving. That’s when she told me she had been fighting with her parents the night before about what I’d told her. She admitted she had liked the sound of not being crazy for being different, but her parents insisted whoever had put the thoughts in her head was out of line and she should stay away from him.

“Caroline, being Caroline, told them she wouldn’t listen to them anymore and when they tried to control her—which she didn’t say how—her skin superheated and blistered her father’s hands. She didn’t want to come to me because, she said, that would mean saying I was right;” he chuckled to himself and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Instead, she waited in her tree house until the soda shop had opened and went there.”

“What happened after that? Did they ever accept that they couldn’t change her?”

His head shook sadly, his lips pressed into a pale line. “We went to see my grandmother, who assured Caroline she wasn’t a freak or crazy or anything else. She stayed with us for the day and then went home that night. After that, she became even more hardheaded, but it was because she was fighting her parents at home almost every night. No one at school knew anything outside she had become a royal pain—well, more of one. But whenever she was too flustered to go home and speak reasonably for even a short period of time, she stayed over with me.

“After about a year, her parents asked me why I was still hanging around her when she was so ‘uncontrollable’ and ‘obviously unwell.’ She never did tell them I’m the one who told her she wasn’t a freak or crazy. When I told them because we were friends and she seemed fine to me, they insisted I either wasn’t well or too good to be true. That’s when, to add insult to injury, they began insisting we date and eventually wed.”

“I bet Caroline didn’t like that.”

“You’ve got that right,” Ian said, his eyes wide as he recalled the blowup that had led to. “About a year after that she came out to her parents. They thought it was to spite them—which it was in a way. She had been interested in only girls for a few years at that point, but she had never told them before. When they wouldn’t take no for answer, she told them and that was just—it just wasn’t good. They were not a happy family by any means. Caroline would use her gifts around the house and started bringing girlfriends home to annoy them. She figured it was only fair because they annoyed her. Really, it was just an ugly circle of events.

“Then when we went to college,” he continued, “she started getting better. She was calmer and typically more open to varying opinions. Then, after hearing everyone else talk about how wonderful a relationship they had with their parents, she decided she wanted that for herself and called home.”

“Not good?” I guessed, grimacing. I could only imagine how it had turned out, and it didn’t look pretty in my mind.

Shaking his head, he elaborated, “The first phone call wasn’t bad. But after that, they started insisting if she wanted to talk, she had to come home. So she did; and when she came back at the end of that weekend, she was worse than she had ever been in high school. It was a constant case of PMS and worsened by the fact she either had to go home semi-regularly or they would begin visiting campus, with the threat of them recommending mental guidance and anger management for her.

“The rest is pretty much downhill from there. They set up a schedule of times she’s required to visit, and then, occasionally, they drop in for a visit—those are typically unannounced. She obliges and the tradeoff is she can live on their dime on her terms.”

“But she still has to listen to their opinions on her life,” I added, having heard that bit before.

“And their complaining about her element.”

I nodded, better understanding her earlier behavior and her motivation to make this work within my timeline. The sooner we were in the open, the sooner she could prove her parents wrong. Though, from the sound of it, they weren’t the type to admit fault. That’s probably where Caroline learned it.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. I didn’t have anything I could say to him without facing some sort of consequence and that was the topic that most interested him.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” I offered, regardless how random it seemed—I needed to break the silence somehow.

Just as I asked, Nick walked through the door, dinner rolls in hand. He handed them to me, saying to Ian, “You should. We’ll have enough food.”

“Nick, was it?” Ian inquired, not because he didn’t remember but because he was stalling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said, preheating the oven.

“I don’t see why not,” Ian said after a moment. “Caroline shouldn’t need anything tonight.”

“And she can call if she does,” I finished for him, pulling an extra table setting from the cupboard. Drei had bought new dishes and such to replace the ones I’d broken; these were sturdier than the other ones had been—probably in anticipation of another meltdown.

Dinner was fabulous and Ian left contented after Drei and Nick had both assured him I was doing fine. It helped to have two people vouch for me; after he had asked each of them, he let it go.

The next day I spoke with Mikael and Xenia about the website and adding videos. They said it’d be a cinch and would start the formatting for it now while they could work together over the layout; they seemed excited to start when they left. When Nick came home that night, he brought the sketched story board for the next commercial for my approval.

I went with him the next day to give suggestions—all minor because the story board was great when it came to the big ideas—and that was also when Caroline unloaded what seemed like her entire life’s homework and a few flash drives on me. The information was more than welcome as most of it was already targeted against the government, saving me half the leg work. As for how relevant it was to my revolution, I’d find out soon enough. After these commercials were done, Caroline and I would be traveling and speaking publicly, wherever we could to whoever would listen. People would need to put a face with the idea, and that was the best way, in my opinion, to do it.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 2

Ian stopped by later that day as I was preparing supper. Nick was helping me, but decided to run to the grocery store for some rolls when Ian arrived. I know he knew I was having individual conferences with people, so I wasn’t sure if he’d gone because of that or simply because he really wanted rolls at dinner.

“Hey, love,” Ian greeted as Nick ran out the door. He kissed my cheek and asked, “Would you like some help.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, washing my hands. “I can finish later.”

“What are you making?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands.

“Veggie fried rice with sesame chicken. Nick says he knows a great recipe for the chicken,” I answered. “I’m cleaning the chicken. You can cut it up if you want.”

“How big?”

“Bite sized chunks.”

He nodded, taking up the knife and working on the breast already on the cutting board. “So do you have a new tagline?”

“Of course.” I had been thinking about it for some time and decided to stick with miracles as the central theme. “The next set will be based around ‘miracles are unstoppable,’ because after that set airs, no matter what happens, no matter what people want to believe, they know,” I said, working on removing excess fat and bits of gristle from the next breast. “Most people won’t want to live with the guilt, and even if they can, someone else will step up.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, setting the knife down. “What do you want me to do with these?”

“There’s a bowl to your right;” I pointed to the ceramic bowl with the chunks Nick had already cut up. “The last set of commercials will be based on ‘miracles never die.’ That one isn’t aimed to the people as much as it is to the government. They need to know this won’t stop with just us. Others like us, and even unlike us, are tired. Tired of being lied to, exploited, mistreated in general.”

“I can do that,” he assured me as I handed him the next breast, starting on the last one. “Did I tell you how much I love designing your ‘miracle’ commercials?”

“Only a couple of times;” I smiled, unable to help myself.

“Well, I do.” His eyes darted my way for a fraction of a second, reflecting the grin on his lips. “How have you been doing?”

“Good, thank you,” I responded, not even thinking about it. It was one of those automatic responses hardwired into me; I would have said ‘good, thank you’ even if the world was burning to ashes around me. “Yourself?”

“I’m good.” After a moment, he added, “But you weren’t.”

He finished chopping as I finished cleaning. I handed him the last breast and then washed my hands; then I scrubbed the sink with hot, soapy water and bleach.

“I’m fine now,” I persisted, rinsing the suds down the drain. I checked the rice, though I wasn’t sure how to tell if the rice cooker was working or not; I hadn’t used one before, but Nick seemed to trust it.

“But you weren’t.”

I wanted to retort snidely about how that was obvious, but Ian wasn’t attacking me. I knew that. He was doing what Caroline hadn’t—though I had wanted her to. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I felt it,” Ian said, looking up from what was left of the chicken breast. “You’re my friend, Abriel—Leirba—whatever you prefer. Maybe it’s because you’re also air, but my connection to you is different from anyone else. When you hurt, I feel it as if it were my own pain.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, turning my back to him and going about cleaning up. I didn’t want him, or anyone else, to feel what I felt, especially not when I had been that badly off. But I couldn’t control that, and I doubted he could either. If he could have, I was sure he would have stopped after I almost died—well, did die, kind of.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Dropping the last of the chicken into the bowl, he placed the cutting board in the sink and ran some hot bleach water for it to soak. He washed his hands, saying, “I have time if you wanted to.”

“I can’t,” I said, trying to find something else to do and discovering the rest of it Nick would have to finish as he hadn’t left instructions for me to follow.

“Can’t…or won’t?” The way he said it wasn’t hurtful or mean, but it still stung. No one else had questioned me about that, and I had started to assume people wouldn’t. Now that someone had, I couldn’t remember how I had planned to reply.

“I’ve talked to Drei already, and I am feeling better. But I can’t really talk about it with anyone else because it would lead to a conversation about something I can’t discuss.” I knew it sounded terrible and pathetic, but I hoped it would sate some fraction of his curiosity.

“I won’t ask;” Ian walked around to the other side of the counter and sat down. “But I’m here if you ever want to, even if you’re not supposed to.”

Silence found its way between us for a short while before I decided to ask the question I hadn’t been able to ask Caroline: “Is something wrong with Caroline?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

“She seemed weird when she was here earlier. Like she was overcompensating for something by being less argumentative.”

Ian’s head bobbed slightly, though he didn’t say anything. It was like he was debating whether or not to tell me about it. I would understand if he didn’t—it was only fair. But I was hoping he’d find it decent to share.

“Her parents dropped by for a visit a few days ago and finally left today,” he said, almost as if that answered it.

A couple years ago, when I had met Caroline’s parents, they seemed like perfectly normal people who may have loved their only daughter a touch too much. However, appearances, especially in the world Caroline and I both hailed from, were everything but meant nothing about the real person underneath. And there was definitely something about her parents because, that entire vacation, even Ian had been stressed. It was the first time I had seen him stressed in a subdued, biting his tongue, way. And Caroline’s stress had been off the charts. I had never had the opportunity to know why that was, and I had been too preoccupied with my own problems to ask then.

“What is it about her parents she doesn’t like?” I asked, hopefully in a way that suggested I wasn’t forcing him to answer.

He opened his mouth to say something before closing it. Exhaling, his lips curling upward, he noted, “You never got to be alone with them. They are two real pieces of work.”

Eternal: Chapter Eight, Part 6

That’s where I stayed. It felt like an eternity that I lay there, my hand slowly bleeding—not fast enough to make a mess, just a slow, almost gelatinous, ooze—the carpet absorbing my tears, and me, suffocating, despite not even having to breathe. And the pain; the wrenching, burning pain clawing at my insides.

“Abriel, we will be late if you do not—,” Drei called as he walked through the door, stopping as he no doubt saw the mess I had created. He had run an errand and promised to be back in time for us to make it to the party.

He sat me upright, propping me against himself and holding me in his strong arms. I still couldn’t stop myself, even with him here. Nothing he said made any sense for a while, it was too soft and I was focused too much on what was happening inside me. When I wasn’t crying so hard, he lifted me and laid me in bed.

“I will be right back,” he promised, wiping the wet hair back from my forehead.

Drei spoke to someone in the other room, probably on the phone to tell them we weren’t coming. Caroline would yell at me for it later and Ian would probably tell her to shove it. Or someone else might. I tried imagining how it would pan out, but the distraction was useless; I rolled over, sobbing and crying again. I was coughing so hard my chest ached.

He was back again, propping me against his chest, rubbing my back until the coughing stopped. Then he cleaned and wrapped my cut hand. At least that’s when I suspected he did it; I didn’t actually know for sure. When he was done with that, he wrapped me in his arms and rocked me back and forth. I wasn’t sure how it was possible there were still tears left in me, but there were more, even if they only came quietly now.

Drei held me at least until I fell asleep. I was still in his arms when I awoke. His eyes were closed and his head bowed over me. I felt exhausted—emotionally and physically. Closing my eyes again, I only wanted to sleep, or try to anyway.

“We should talk first,” Drei said softly. It was strange hearing his voice in the silence, more so because he sounded worn and weary, almost fragile. “What happened?”

I tried to bury my face in his chest, but he turned and lifted my chin with a hooked finger.

“Something is wrong.” Had I not been so exhausted, I wondered if I would have thought that was the stupidest statement ever. Of course, something was wrong. The last time I cried anywhere near that much was when he kicked me out years ago, and, even then, it hadn’t hurt quite this much.

Shaking my head, I attempted pulling away from him. I loved him, but he did this to me. And yet I didn’t want him to feel guilty about it. If I told him, that’s what would happen, but he might be able to help me work through it so I felt better; if I didn’t tell him—I didn’t really want to think about that. None of what was going through my head was making any sense.

Drei wouldn’t let go of me; he wasn’t hurting me, but he wasn’t going to let me escape and avoid this.

“I know you need rest,” he murmured as he lowered his face until his forehead nearly touched mine. “But we need to talk about this, Abriel. What happened?” he repeated, as if I had forgetten the question. I was only trying to avoid answering it after all. “Tell me.”

“No.” Part of me still wanted to pull away from him, but part of me wanted to fall asleep in his arms again. Either way, I knew I didn’t want to answer that question, especially not now. “You don’t want to know.” I buried my head in my hands.

“If you are hurting, Abriel, I want to know.”

“Why? It’ll only hurt you.”

“That means nothing to me. Your health, your wellness means everything to me.”

Glancing up at him, I found his face already contorted in pain, all because I wouldn’t talk to him. That was what I’d been hoping to avoid. “It sucks,” I said lamely, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t have a reflection.”

His fingers ran through my hair and massaged my scalp, though his unease and worry snaked around me. “I should have told you.”

“It’s why you took down all the mirrors.” I didn’t need him to confirm it because I already knew it was why. He wanted to protect me from that truth, and as I had become considerably with other things—like sating my hunger and the movement—I hadn’t cared. “That’s mostly why.”

“Such a trivial thing?”

“No, Drei. It wasn’t trivial.” He didn’t understand. By the time he went out into the world, he was numb from what he had done. He didn’t notice the world moving on around him, leaving him behind. “It was the last thing I could stand losing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Drei, I’ve been giving up and leaving behind so much. For my element, for my vampire…and it was just building on top of itself. One thing on top of another; something old would come up and add…and when I couldn’t even see what I looked like—couldn’t even prove I still existed—” My voice cracked as a new wave of tears pressed at my eyes. I had hoped my tear ducts were empty.

“I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want you to,” I admitted, sniffing, trying to hold back the tears.

“You do exist, Abriel,” he said, wrapping me tighter in his arms.

“How can I—”

“Because if you ever wonder, I will hold you. I will say anything you want. I will kiss you and do whatever you desire of me. I will stay by your side until you feel better,” he promised, his amethyst eyes pale and serious. “To me, you exist…and because you do, I am happier than I have ever been.”

Wrapping my hands around the back of his neck, I buried my face into his chest—breathing him in and failing to quell the tears now rolling down my cheeks—and this time he didn’t stop me. One of his arms was wrapped around my waist, his other hand lost in my hair.

Eternal: Chapter Eight, Part 4

Later that week, Drei had arranged for us to meet with the Council. The vampire—the one even more stoic than Drei—drove us there. This time, he permitted us roll down the windows so I wasn’t starved when we arrived. About an hour after we left, the air changed from fresh to stale. The window wasn’t down far enough for me to see why, but I figured it partially explained why the area around the house had seemed archaic.

We were told to wait in the same dusty room while the Council assembled. This time, however, instead of their courtroom equivalent, we were brought into a more office-like space. There was one large desk, at which the head of the Council was seated. Then there was a table to either side with a total of seven chairs. Tudor, the vampire who had sat under the presiding head, sat immediately to the right of the desk on the table of four. Strangely enough, they all appeared to be dressed casually and each had a mug of warm blood on the table before them.

“You may deliver the update, Mr. Valmoritim,” Tudor announced in a lighter voice than he had used the last time we’d met.

I handed Drei the papers and he passed them to Tudor, who offered them to the head vampire. He leafed through them as Drei returned to my side. We waited for him to stop, because I knew he would. The commercials were cryptic. Just because the site, currently, was set up to reveal the nature of elementals didn’t mean it couldn’t be altered to reveal the existence of other hiding groups. We knew he would recognize this, and that’s when I had to talk them into patience.

“Tudor, what is your opinion of these?” There was the edge to his voice; the tell-tale sign he was displeased. Until they brought it up, I had decided to play dumb—and resist admitting how much I loathed these games.

“I believe these are too general,” Tudor stated, his brow furrowed, wrinkling his crown even more than it already was. “Do you realize, Miss Jones, these could lead to the discovery of every hiding organization?”

“I realize it may seem that way,” I replied, meeting his gaze, despite how difficult it was to look into those black orbs. “But let me assure you, they will all remain hidden.”

“For how long?” Tudor asked calmly, the edge in his voice as well.

“So long as they choose. This has nothing to do with them;” I folded my hands in front of me. “I can swear to you that this is a movement centering around the civil rights of elementals and exposing the corruption of the current government. What do vampires and other such groups have to do with that?”

There was a lot of nodding and murmuring along the table before Tudor spoke again. “You are responsible for informing the other organizations of this. We will not interfere with the current goings-on.”

“Thank you,” I said, bowing my head to them. That was easier than I had expected.

“Miss Jones,” the presiding vampire called, staring intently at me. I met his gaze. Maybe I had spoken too soon. “Should we feel endangered by your movement, we will end it.”

“I understand.”

“Dismissed,” Tudor granted.

In the hallway, Drei hugged me, kissing the top of my head.

“You amaze me,” he whispered, holding me a second longer before letting go.

I waved it off. “That was easy compared to some of this.” Mentally, I reminded myself to start Valetta and Mitchell on speaking with the other groups’ leaders about their privacy and secrecy. I wasn’t keen on being summoned to meet with werewolves or fairies and the like.

“But that is the last obstacle, Abriel,” he said, his fingertips brushing my cheek as he tucked hair behind my ear. “The commercial will air in a week, and we will be three weeks ahead of schedule.”

“It’s a good start. But we still have a middle and an end to go.”

He looked ready to say something more before our escort led us downstairs to the car. I wished I knew what he had been about to say. I had a feeling it had something to do with enjoying the moment. Not live in the moment—since living wasn’t something we could technically do—but enjoy the moment.

Perhaps it was a strange thought to have; they seemed more frequent, though I couldn’t tell if they made me feel bitter or grieved. I tried not to think on it too much. Sure, it wasn’t healthy to hold it inside, but I needed to be calm and collected; I was in charge and needed to appear as such.

But how long could that last?

Eternal: Chapter Seven, Part 3

“He knows who I am,” she yelled at me, returning the outer edge of our group. “There’s more to me than my element!”

“But your element is still a huge part of who you are,” I calmly rebutted, moving to stand before her. I didn’t want to push her too far, just enough to see what Ian, Jake, Mikael, and Xenia already saw. “You can’t deny it exists; trust me…I tried. And it ruined every plan I had for myself.”

Kora didn’t say anything; she didn’t look at anyone. Caroline had gone to stare out a window, still prickling, though I wasn’t sure why. I’d find out in a moment, once Kora had made her decision.

“It may not seem like a gift at times, maybe not even most of the time, but we were born this way for a reason. We’re different for a reason. And there’s a good chance that our children will be like us.” I didn’t know if Kora wanted children, but I knew she could relate to being an elemental child and the challenges it created. “Growing up, didn’t you ever wish things could be different?” I squeezed her shoulder gently. “We could make things different; we could make them better.”

A glimmer of hope entered the mix of doubt, anger, and fear enveloping her. Unspoken arguments and questions flew around her mind as she tried at first to talk herself into leaving and then transitioned to all of the reasons she should stay. “Fine,” she said softly, returning to her seat.

“Caroline?” I said, going to stand before her. “Are you in?”

She huffed, staring hard at me, her bronze eyes searching my face and those of the others. Caroline wasn’t warring with fears and other emotions as Kora had been; all I felt from her was…petulance.

“Say yes, Caroline;” Ian sighed, rolling his eyes. “She’ll play unsure as long as you let her…just for the sake of playing devil’s advocate.”

Shrugging, she smiled in her mischievous way. “Of course I’m in. I always love shaking things up a bit.”

“Any more objections or concerns?” I asked as Caroline and I returned to our seats. Kora was still mostly in her thoughts, but everyone else seemed content. “Then onto jobs.” Picking up the folder on the table, I passed a stack of papers around. “This is the general timetable Caroline and Ian drew up for us.” Passing out the next sheet, I explained, “Right now I have two different teams. Mikael and Xenia, can you two set up a website?”

“Those are easy,” Mikael assured me and Xenia agreed.

“Fantastic. Caroline said she’ll pay for the server space; you two are webmasters. Whenever you need the space, talk to her.” Turning my attention to the other, I continued, “Kora, Jake, Ian, and Caroline, you’ll be responsible for the commercials. Ian already has some story boards I believe;” he nodded. “Valetta and Mitchell, you’ll be ambassadors.”

“What for?” Mitchell asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“You’ll see soon enough. Nick, I wasn’t expecting to have your help,” I admitted.

Laughing, he said, “You should have.”

“I know, but it works out great anyway. I don’t have a sheet for it yet, but you’ll be the head of my security detail.” At his confused look, I added, “I won’t need it until later, so you can help with either the website or the commercial for now.”

“Definitely the commercial;” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with relief. “I think I’d be more likely to crash the site than help set it up.”

“Perfect. And Drei you’re helping to oversee everything.” Drei nodded, though I could sense he wasn’t happy with his assignment. I’d talk to him about it later; I hadn’t known where else to put him. I needed him here with me, and I wasn’t sure how much use he’d be with either of the technical options. “Before we adjourn, any final questions?”

“I think we’re good;” Caroline began munching on one of her cookies.

“Before you leave, make sure to meet with your group and figure out when you’ll be meeting. I’ll e-mail everyone about the next group meeting, and help yourselves. There’s still plenty of food left. Meeting adjourned.”

Eternal: Chapter Six, Part 7

It wasn’t difficult to track down to where Jake had disappeared; he had left in a terrible mood with a unique mix of emotions trailing behind him: disappointment, anger, hatred, self-loathing, and a touch of sorrow. The trail he left traversed campus and through the park nearby, down to the river on the edge of the field just beyond the park. He wasn’t much better off than when he’d left; if anything, he had just started bottling it all up again.

“Jake?” I asked, standing a few feet from where he was sitting on the bank. He stiffened, keeping his back to me and curling into himself. “Could you talk to me? Like a person who isn’t being purely defensive?”

When he didn’t respond, I sat next to him and waited a moment. He wasn’t running, which was a good thing, but something was definitely wrong. All of his bitterness wasn’t from normal circumstances. Something over the past few years had changed him. Never could I have imagined him so cold and hard.

“What’s wrong?” I tried, wanting him to open up to me. He’d feel better if he did, I was sure of it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, staring fixedly at the water as if it was going to give him the answers he wanted. I would have told him it wouldn’t if I had thought it might help. “I don’t even know you, Leirba.”

Leaning back on the heels of my palms, I sighed. True, he was being a pain, but it was also true he wasn’t necessarily himself. Besides, anger wasn’t going to help me with this; it would only worsen things. “You do know me, so don’t even pretend.”

“Then why are you going by a different name, Abriel?” His eyes met mine; the brightness I had seen before was just a trick of the light. They were dull and lifeless; I wondered if the hint of childishness in his smile had also been an illusion. It was difficult to tell anymore. “It’s sketchy.”

“Drei wants me to go by Leirba for now. It’s really long and complex and I’m not really supposed to talk about it,” I said, having to look away from him. I wanted him to trust me, but I couldn’t even give him sufficient reason to. “Now what changed you?”

“Why are you here?” he asked instead. “Why now? Why not before?”

“Before what?” I inquired, hoping he’d say something to let me pry further.

No such luck. “Before now.”

It amazed me I could even be talking to the same person from all those years ago. The others, I could still see them, who they had been beneath who they had become. But every trace of who Jake had been…it was like it had all been erased.

“Before now I’d been figuring things out. I’ve been learning about myself and my movement, and some other stuff—”

“That you can’t talk about,” he finished bitterly. I winced at the daggers in his voice. “Well, while you were off doing whatever it was that was more important,” he spat, facing me, his face red and splotchy, contorted in a nasty combination of heartache and fury, “I was shipped from relative to relative until I was dumped into foster care, and then shipped from family to family.”

I was speechless for a moment, my mind absent of any response. “What happened to your mom?” I asked, remembering how he had told me she’d sent him to the camp for his protection. In his relation of it, she had promised to be there when he returned to her.

“The fucking government happened!” he screamed, tears coursing down his cheeks as his bottled emotions spewed forth. I tried to clear them away as best I could while letting him still go through the sensations. He needed to; he needed to feel again. He’d been making himself numb for too long and it was alienating him. “By the time I got back they’d picked her up.  My dad blamed me for everything; said if I’d never been born she’d never have been caught. He told me get the fuck out before he killed me. So I went to my grandparents, who sent me to one relative to another and to another until the last one didn’t want me either. I was dropped in their fucking system!” he yelled, pulling his knees to his chest and running his hands through his hair. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide in their fucking system?”

I pulled him into my embrace, knowing it wasn’t the foster care system he was angry at; it wasn’t even me. He felt like his father had told him the truth. It was his fault; he was the only one to blame.

“Jake,” I whispered, cradling him in my arms, rubbing his back and trying to limit how much of his pain he had to go through. There was so much and it was still so raw, as if he had avoided feeling any of it before now. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It isn’t your fault.”

He pulled away from me, his bloodshot eyes revealing how unworthy of my help he felt he was. “But it—”

“Your mother loves you,” I told him sternly. “She told you that, and she meant it. Nothing changed that,” I said, taking his hands in mine. He stared at me blankly, unsure how to respond; he wanted to believe me, but he had also spent so much time believing he was to blame. What I said seemed only like a happy pipe dream. “Nothing changes her love for you. Okay?”

He nodded slightly, wiping away his tears.

Eternal: Chapter Six, Part 6

She grumbled and sat back. Jake didn’t look at her; he had unwound some but was still visibly tense. I couldn’t help myself; before I knew it I was chilling the air around him, circulating it in a way that was pulling his frustrations and hardness from him. He let himself become relaxed, sitting back and closing his eyes a moment before opening them and scanning the room. Though I had looked away, still working the air around him, I felt his eyes burn into me, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Jake,” Professor Rakins called, pulling his attention from me, “you’ve covered society. Now what about yourself? Where do you draw the line for forgiveness?”

He glanced up at me again before beginning to answer. “I think it depends on the offense. I can forgive someone breaking my heart, or emotionally hurting me with time. But I don’t think I could forgive someone who hurts the people I know, or even those I don’t, in a way that has lasting damage. I couldn’t forgive someone who forces me and others like me to live a certain lifestyle. It’s not possible. People shouldn’t have to live the way someone else chooses for them.”

“What if that someone is a person you love?” I asked, reminded of the decisions Drei had made for me, and the ones others had made for me my entire life.

“Someone who loves you would let you make your own choice,” he responded coldly. “They wouldn’t put you through pain like that. They wouldn’t endow themselves with the power to make your choices.”

“Your parents do,” a girl next to Natalie added.

“Spouses, too,” a boy next to her added. “People you love are always making decisions concerning you.”

“And they shouldn’t be forgiven for it,” he said forcibly, very near shouting.

“Even if that means deciding to put you through a surgery that might save your life?” the boy asked. When Jake didn’t repeal his answer, the boy stood up. “You’re messed up…a real piece of work.” And he left, the other girl and Natalie sharing a look before following him.

“Don’t forget the final,” Professor Rakins called after them before scanning the remaining people. “Miss, I don’t believe I know you,” he said, pointing to me. “It doesn’t matter, but give your name and your opinion on this.”

I regretted speaking earlier, it might have saved me having to debate against him. “Leirba,” I started, avoiding the hard stare Jake was giving me. He didn’t say anything to correct me, thankfully, but this wasn’t going to make things easier. “For me, I somewhat agree with Jake. It depends on the offense. I don’t know if I could forgive someone who murdered someone I knew, or tried to. But I can forgive the people I love. I can always find a reason to forgive someone I love,” I answered, meeting Jake’s gaze. “Yes, sometimes they make decisions for me I don’t agree with, but I love them, and I do so for a reason. And that reason is enough.”

“So what about them?” he questioned bitterly. Many of his peers started muttering to each other, trying to determine who “they” were—coming to many different conclusions—and how we knew each other. “Can you forgive them for everything they’ve done? For everything they continue to do?”

Swallowing, I had to think about it. I didn’t know off the top of my head. They—the government and the people working under it—had taken my mother, had tortured and scarred me, had practically imprisoned Nick—a former boyfriend and still good though absent friend of mine—and forced so many of us to live in constant fear of being found out. Exhaling slowly, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, I replied, “I don’t know. Maybe someday, I might be able to. But it won’t be any time soon.”

That sent him over. He looked to say something as he jumped up from his seat, glared at me a second, and then grabbed his bag and stormed from the classroom.

“From the sounds of it, I should be looking forward to the essays Tuesday,” Professor Rakins chuckled, trying to break the tension in the room. It wasn’t working. There was no chattering and most people couldn’t even look at one another. I hated it; I always hated feeling uneasy, especially when it wasn’t mine. “Well then,” he tried again, receiving no response. “Class dismissed. Remember: Tuesday, 12:30.”

The rest of the students, myself included, left the room; I felt rotten for not supporting Jake on that point, but I couldn’t help how I felt, and I honestly believed that someday, depending on how things worked out, I might be able to forgive them for their seriously misguided thinking and heinous actions. I hoped I would be able to do so. I would never forget their transgressions, but I didn’t want to hate them for the rest of my days.

Eternal: Chapter Five, Part 3

Mikael was at the end of his sophomore year by regular standards, but at his year-round school, he still had another month or so of class before he entered into the summer session. I had been surprised when Mitchell first gave me the information on where to find Mikael. I had expected him to be attending a public school, maybe a private academy. Instead, I was traveling to meet him at an all-boys boarding school.

En route, I tried to reason out why he would be at a boarding school away from his family after having been separated from them as long as he had already. It didn’t make sense to me. And even after trying to rationalize it for several hours, I still had nothing.

Once there, I didn’t go to request meeting with him immediately—as was customary—because I caught the sound of his voice out in the field where a group of students were playing baseball. He had never struck me as the baseball sort, but he always had loved games.

The day was beautiful out, warm and sunny, exactly as May should be. It wasn’t easy resisting the urge to feel the sun on my skin as I watched them play from afar. Not only would Drei scold me and very possibly never trust me to be out of his sight again, but it would postpone any interactions I had with Mikael and the others. There was the also the possibility Mikael wouldn’t speak to me if I gave in to my temptation.

Mikael scored a homerun and silently I cheered for him. Observing long enough to see Mikael play shortstop and shout encouragements to his team as they quickly tallied three strikes against their opponents, I headed toward the school, a cold and distant looking place. My best guess was that it had been a mansion converted to a school with additions made to accommodate students. Even the red brick, usually a welcoming, warm sight, couldn’t liven the drab and dark building. Whether it was hyperbolic or not, the sunlight around the school felt like it was being vacuumed away into oblivion.

The inside wasn’t much of an improvement, though it was surprisingly warm, not at all drafty as I had imagined. The walls were a dark mahogany and covered with portraits of graduated classes of boys and past presidents of the institution. They were all stoic and distant, but all of the boys in the pictures appeared as true gentlemen: polished, polite, intelligent, and possibly even ready to be a husband or future-CEO.

A kindly, plump woman scuttled towards me, smiling jovially, making her look twenty years younger than I guessed her to be. She wore a rich blue dress and white flats; her graying blonde hair was pulled into a French twist.

“How may I help you, ma’am?” she inquired in a light voice. It sounded almost as though the words just skipped off her tongue her voice was so light.

“I was interested in speaking with Mikael Summers, if I could,” I said, returning her bright smile.

“May I inquire as to what about?” Her eyebrows arched high over her widened eyes, her smile dampening slightly but still perfectly intact. She didn’t view me as a threat—thankfully—but she was on guard all the same.

“I’m an old friend of Mikael’s, used to babysit him a few years ago,” I said, figuring she was bound to ask that question anyway; “Something has come up recently and I wanted to talk with him about it.”

“What has come up? Something with his family?” she snooped, her face not changing from its inquisitive state.

“It’s a bit of a private matter,” I said, continuing to smile kindly at her. I had this urge to hit her with my umbrella if she continued being nosy. She didn’t need to know as much as she thought she did, and if I didn’t need her approval to speak with Mikael without finding myself in more trouble than I could stand at this moment, I might have given in to my violent desire. Her now plastic smile was especially irritating me.

“Very well, then, Miss…”

“Jones,” I supplied, keeping my voice light, controlling my growing agitation.

“Miss Jones. Follow me.” 

Eternal: Chapter Five, Part 1

Chapter Five: From the Ground Up

Mitchell returned a few days later having found both Kora and Mikael. I was excited to be able to see them again, having been close to them back at camp. They had been part of a small, close- knit group of elementals, the first to actively dissolve the boundaries their predecessors had created between the earth and water elementals. When I set to break those boundaries by means of a game, they asked questions and worked to mediate arguments that arose after; my shining examples, in a way.

That was years ago, though. I hadn’t seen any of them since I left—Jake since before I left, which was why I was hoping to save him until last.

Drei was still off at whatever it was he was doing. By this point, it was a well-guarded secret I wanted in on, merely lacking the time to pursue it—not to mention my personal promise to be patient. I set Mitchell to working with Caroline and Ian—when they had time—to flesh out the vague timeline I had been putting together. They were also supposed to brainstorm different methods of reaching people given our deadline. Valetta was still tracking down Jake; last I’d heard, she had already located Xenia. She promised to find him by the time I was done meeting with Mikael and Kora.

Kora was finishing her freshman year at college, but you wouldn’t have known it looking at her. She had highlighted her dark hair with thin strands of red brown and carried herself as though she was a graduating senior. She had grown up a lot since I had last seen her three years ago.

I watched her during the cloudy day, following at a safe distance. There wasn’t any point in interrupting her regular day when what I had to discuss with her had nothing to do with her college life or friends. Besides, it would likely take her a moment to remember me if she did at all. It had taken Caroline almost too long for comfort, and it had only been a year since I last saw her. Ian didn’t count.

She was quite the busy student, between studying, group meetings, organizational meetings, and what have you. The first few days presented little opportunity. The fourth day, a Saturday, was sunny—which kept me indoors during the day—and that night was some sorority event.

It wasn’t until Sunday night when she was even relatively alone. She walked around the beautiful campus with her boyfriend—at least that’s whom I guessed the lanky gentleman holding her hand was. Checking her watch casually, she kissed his cheek and bade him farewell. There was an explanation as well, but I wasn’t near enough to catch it and I didn’t feel like adding eavesdropping on top of what could be classified as stalking.

His blue gray eyes followed her a while before he continued down the path. Kora approached me where I was sitting on a bench near the quad, partially hidden behind flowering bushes. She stopped a couple yards away, crossing her arms and cocking her hip to the side.

“Why have you been following me for the last week?” she asked.

Meeting her large hazel eyes, I kept a straight face, deciding to take an un-Mitchell approach with her. “How have you been, Kora?” I asked, attempting to minimize the amount of spent on memory catch-up.

“Why do you know my name?” A trace of fear crossed over her features before it vanished under a cool façade.

“I’m guessing you knew I was following you because of your talents,” I said, realizing I was very possibly terrifying her as she clenched her jaw and clutched her arms more tightly. “You really have nothing to fear from me. We’ve met before.”

“I’m sure we haven’t,” she said. “I really think you should stop whatev—”

“Don’t you remember feathers? Or games? Maybe you remember Nick? Perhaps an ice sculpture with flowers you helped to make? Any of that ring a bell?”

It was somewhat entertaining to watch her huge eyes grow in realization and then narrow in skepticism. “You can’t be—”

I put a finger to my lips, silencing her as she studied me, even more confused. “You can’t use my name in public for the time being,” I said, standing. She was as tall as I was now, and it was strange since I remembered her only coming up to my shoulder. “Drei wants everyone to call me Leirba for now.”