Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) (11 page)

I
swallow hard. "A prophecy?"

"Yes,"
he answers. I can tell he wants to touch me, but I'm glad that he doesn't.
"Evan, it's supposed to be about you."
Lex
lets out a long sigh and rubs the back of his neck. Normally I would find the
gesture endearing, but right now I'm just too numb.

"Why
didn't you tell me?" I ask trying hard to keep accusation from my voice.

"Because
I didn't know, not for sure. I was hoping that you wouldn't have anything to do
with this."

"With
what,
Lex
?"

He rubs
his palm across his forehead, looking wearier than I've ever seen a man look.

"I'm
not sure I'm the right one to tell you about all this. Magda didn't want to do things
too hastily, but I warned her what could happen if you were unprepared. And
now..." He trails off and gives a helpless shrug. He looks so damn lost it
breaks my heart, but I'm not ready to comfort him. I'm too lost myself.

I slide
off the bed and sink down to the floor pulling my knees up to my chin, waiting
for him to finish. Somehow being fractionally closer to the earth fills me with
a small sense of relief.

Lex
stands and sinks to the floor
in front of me on his knees. He reaches out and cups my face gently. "I
can't explain everything now and I'm so sorry, but we don't have time, you have
to get back before someone notices that you've left the country."

"What?"
I practically shout, yanking my face out of his hands. "Where the hell are
we?" I pop up and rush over to the window.

Lex
gives me a sheepish grin.

"Russia."

.

Now
that the shock of how far I've managed to travel has worn off, I'm excited.
I've never been anywhere outside of the country, except Canada a couple times
and that doesn't really count. I watch the sun rise over the landscape of St.
Petersburg and it's entirely surreal. I'm captivated by the sheer madness of it
all.

"Can't
I just stay, for a while?" I ask, looking over my shoulder at
Lex
.

Lex
smiles in response, but it's a
sad smile that gives me my answer. I cross the room toward him not stopping
until the toes of our shoes are touching. I slide my hands up along his chest.
I can feel the hard contours of his muscles through the rich fabric of his
shirt; liquid electricity pools in my stomach. Despite all of the secrets and
the lies and the confusion I feel, I can't deny how incredibly attracted I am
to him, how much I still want him.

"I
could just call Anders and tell him I'm staying with my friend, Jessie. He'll
be pissed, but I'm sure I could smooth it over."

I watch
in fascination as dark heat swells in his eyes. His hands find my waist, the
flimsy fabric of my top crushes gently in his grip. Lex's gaze drops to my lips
for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.

"Evan,"
he says, his voice strained, "I'm sure we could find a way. Hell, I almost
don't care if we do, if it means I can keep you here. But you have to go back.
Immediately."

I know
he's right but I'm not about to cave in that easily. The only time I don't feel
like a complete mess is when I'm with him and I don't want to give that up.

"Then
I'll go back. And I'll pretend I never left. And then I'll go upstairs and make
another door and come back here." My voice is desperate and pleading and I
hate myself for it.

Lex
reaches up and runs the pad of
his thumb across my bottom lip. "Evan, please."

"I
know," I consent, even though I can tell that if I push just a little bit
harder he'll give in. If we're caught I could lose him completely.

I turn
away from him and let out a shaky breath.
Lex
closes
the small space between us and threads his arms around my waist. I press myself
against him, still feeling desire even though my heart is breaking. He sweeps
my hair away from my neck, his lips quickly finding the curve between my neck
and shoulder. A soft, satisfied sigh escapes my lips.
Lex
trails kisses up my neck until I can feel his breath against my ear.

"I'm
so sorry I have to be away and that I haven't been able to contact you. But
I've been working every second, trying to get back to you," he says in a
husky whisper that makes my toes curl from pleasure.

I turn
in his arms so that I can see his face. The electricity between us overwhelms
me; I revel in the sensation.

"I'll
be back soon. I'm closer than ever to finding the prophecy. Once I have, we'll
know what we're dealing with. Until then, I need you to keep your eyes open.
You have to be careful, there are dangers out that that you couldn't even dream
of."

I stare
up at him in disbelief. "
Lex
..."

"Let
me finish,"
Lex
says quickly, pressing a
reassuring kiss to my lips. "Magda guards her secrets closely, but, if you
dig deep enough, you can find out some things on your own. That house is full
of information if you just look. Things that I can't tell you."

I sigh,
frustrated. "I get it. I'll be a regular Veronica Mars."

Lex
doesn't respond for a second.

"I
don't get that reference," he says finally, his brow folding into a frown.

I can't
help but giggle. Lex's frown melts into a huge grin. He reaches up and brushes
my hair back from my face, his hand lingering to cup my cheek.

"Evan,
promise me you'll be careful?" he asks, serious again.

"Yes,
of course," I answer, biting down on my bottom lip. It's taking a lot of restraint
to keep from asking the questions I want to ask. It'll only frustrate us both
and I really do need to get back.

"And
no more drugs," he laughs.

I roll
my eyes. "Ugh, definitely not," I say, pressing my face into his
chest to hide my blush.

"Hey,"
he says, leaning back so I'm forced to look up at him, "you don't need
them. You're powerful on your own."

I turn
away and step out of his embrace. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on
making a door, or arch, or whatever it is. I need to leave quickly or I'll
never go.

"
Lex
?" I say as I watch the air break into a shimmering
veil.

"Evan?"

I twist
my neck and look at him over my shoulder. "I love you."

"But
you don't even know me," he whispers. The glimmer of hope in his eyes is
unmistakable.

"It
doesn't matter," I say, giving him a sad half smile, "I love you
anyway."

Before
he can say anything else I turn back toward what is now the clear image of an
opalescent arch. When I look through it I can see the other side of the hotel
room, but I know better. With one quick step I'm through the portal, my skin
tingling as I pass under the arch.

The
blossoming sunrise vanishes and I am bathed in moonlight. I inhale the thick,
heady scent of night blooming flowers. It worked.

Jessie
keeps calling, but I don't answer. I'm not mad at her for staying behind at the
party, at least not anymore, but I still don't want to talk to her. Every time
I let her in I manage to fuck things up for myself. I have too much too deal with
right now and my past issues aren't on the list.

I
haven't heard from Josh, either, so I have no clue what he's thinking about
what happened. Either he chalked it up to some drug-induced fever dream, or
he's starting to piece it all together and it won't be long before the whole
town knows how much of a freak I really am. I'm sure Delia would have a field
day if the townsfolk came to break down the gates, pitchforks in hand.

I'm
trying to get a grip on myself, but it's almost impossible. On top of my fear
of being discovered there's the added humiliation of having told a guy I barely
know that I love him. No amount of running or listening to my records can
distract me from rehashing and overanalyzing that moment. Did I even mean it?
In the darkest parts of my soul I know that I did, that I do. When I said it,
it felt like the truest thing I've ever said.

Still,
I can't help trying to rationalize it, trying to come up with some excuse for
why I feel this way about
Lex
. My thoughts always
come back to the same question: would I still love him if I hadn't met him
right after my parents were killed? The answer is always yes. I know inherently
that I would have loved him no matter what the circumstances were, in any
lifetime, in any form. I know it the same way I know how to breathe without
being taught.

But
does he love me back? It's a lot to ask of a person any day, and our
relationship is still so raw and new. I had purposely left before giving him a
chance to answer. The truth is, I would have been destroyed if he hadn't said
he felt the same way.

I hated
thinking this way. I've never been the head over heels type and I've never
relied on anyone, not for happiness or reassurance. Even praise from my
parents, though nice, was never really necessary. I've relied almost entirely
on myself and it's exhausting. To be able to place that burden on someone else
would be a terrifying relief.

The
endless circle of questions with no answers was driving me insane, so I've been
throwing myself into working on preparations for the upcoming Church picnic.
After staying out all night without telling anyone where I was, Anders was
pissed and has insisted on driving me back and forth into town. We don't speak
much, but it seems like he's always about to say something. The result is a
suffocating tension that I can't wait to escape as soon as the car pulls up
alongside the plain clapboard chapel that serves as the only church in Price.
We go through the same ritual every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

It
didn't take me long to discover that there are only two denominations among the
townsfolk: those who go to church on Sunday, and those who didn't. The lack of
diversity makes the smallness of the town even more complete.

The
annual church picnic is a pretty significant event around here and apparently
requires weeks of preparation. I spend most of my time in basements and attics
sorting through decorations for the picnic and donations for the charity flea
market that will be held in the church basement the week of the picnic. Weeks
have passed since the night of the party, each day blending into the next until
June somehow managed to sneak up on me unnoticed.

My only
companion, besides Anders, who doesn't count, is Grace James. She doesn't talk
much, which suits me fine. We usually go hours without saying anything to each
other. Sometimes, I forget she's even there. That seems to happen a lot with
Grace and people, not just me. The entire ladies council treats her like
yesterday's garbage and she seems to just take it.

Earlier
today, Mary Morris blatantly ignored her when we showed up at the library to go
through boxes of dusty books that the library is offering up as a donation.
Grace just shrugged it off, but it bothered me.

As we
sort through moldy boxes I try to think of a way to talk to her about it. I've
developed a haphazard system of sorting that starts with the book's overall
condition. After a book is deemed fit it's sorted into a pile based on its time
period, genre, author, and title. There are dozens of copies of the same book,
mostly Jane Austen. Not surprising.

Aside
from worrying about Grace and all of my usual drama, I'm actually having a
pretty good time going through all the titles. Some of them are old favorites,
but there are a lot of obscure books that I've never heard of. Anything that
seems relevant to my search for information, I set aside. Luckily the history
of Price is well documented and there are plenty of old history books on the
subject in the donation boxes.

I'm
leaning over a water-damaged box of encyclopedias, trying to find anything Price
related, when I feel eyes on me. I look up to see Grace studying me intently.
When she realizes that I'm watching her back she looks away quickly.
Immediately I feel bad. All this time and we haven't had a real conversation; I
had assumed that Grace wasn't interested in talking, but maybe I was projecting
my own feelings on her. Turns out I'm just as bad as everyone else in this
town.

"
Uhm
, Grace?" I ask tentatively.

I watch
as she fumbles with a stack of Dickens' novels before slowly looking up. Her eyes,
a startling honey color that I hadn't noticed before, are awash with fear and
something else. Curiosity.

"Do
you, like,
wanna
get some coffee?" I was
planning on ducking out soon anyway to get some air.

Grace's
mouth opens slightly and her cheeks flush. I have a painful flashback to
freshmen year: split ends and braces and no filter. Maybe a slight
goth
phase. I stifle a sigh.
Jessie was there to pick me up on the curb, literally, and I can be there for
Grace.

"Grace?"

"
Uhm
, we have a lot of work to do.
"
she says lamely. I suppress an eye-roll and go for a charming, inviting smile
instead.

"C'mon.
We're entitled to a break. There's a coffee shop across the street. They make
the best iced lattes." Which is sort of true, the two times I've been in
there.

"I
don't know. I don't really drink coffee," Grace replies tentatively. I
smile inwardly.

"Then,
iced tea, iced water, whatever," I urge, already knowing she'll agree. I
stand up and dust off my jeans.

"Let's
go," I say with a hint of finality before turning and heading up the
stairs and out of the musty basement.

I
emerge from the library a few moments later and stand blinking in the late
spring sunshine, waiting for Grace. For a second it seems like she is really
that committed to her work and isn't going to join me. The tinkling sound of
bells strung from the library door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see
Grace coming out of the door, blinking, blinded by the sudden sunshine like I
was.

I can't
help the huge grin that splits my face and causes Grace's ever-present blush to
deepen, a stark contrast with her luminous, pale skin. We make our way to
Blossom I, a squat little brick building sandwiched between a dress shop and a
music store.

Inside,
the air-conditioning is on full blast, making a welcome reprieve from the
breezeless day. Even though Grace said she doesn't really drink coffee,
whatever that means, I go ahead and order us two iced mochas. I figure she
could use it.

We sit
in silence while we wait for our drinks to come. I watch as Grace alternates
between fidgeting with the sleeve of her white button down shirt and the tip of
her shiny dark ponytail. Usually, I would be the same way. Ever since my powers
started to kick in, I've been oddly still, inside and out. The thought sends my
fingers to the stone hanging lightly around my neck. I rub the pad of my thumb
over the smooth surface leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

"That's
pretty."

I look
up, startled, to find Grace staring intently at my necklace. It gives me a
funny feeling deep in my stomach, so I let the necklace drop back in place
beneath my Titus Andronicus t-shirt.

"Thanks,"
I reply, adding a half shrug. I've been working on a cover story, involving an
antique-shopping trip in Maine and a handsome Italian gypsy, in case anybody
asks where it came from, but Grace doesn't press for details and I'm spared the
lie.

The
awkward silence is broken when the waitress comes and sets our drinks down in
front of us. I take a long, grateful drag through the straw, rejoicing in the
dark, strong flavor of coffee and chocolate slipping down my throat, the
caffeine quickly infiltrating my blood.

Grace
is more tentative, taking a small sip straight from the glass. Her eyes light
up slightly. I stifle my grin and take another drink.

"So,
have you always lived in Price?" I ask.

Grace
looks up quickly, her eyes wide. Then she laughs, a short incredulous laugh,
stopped short by her hand covering her mouth, and nods slowly before dropping
her hand to her lap. I try not to be freaked out by her reaction, but it takes
a lot of effort to keep my face composed. I know that I'm hiding a bucketful of
secrets, but the people in this town are something else, something strange. I'm
starting to wonder if maybe there are some things that I don't want to know. I
take a deep breath and decide that my fear is minuscule compared to my need for
answers.

"I'm
sorry, am I missing something?" I ask Grace, throwing in a playful smirk
for good measure.

The
humor evaporates from Grace's eyes and she takes to fidgeting again. It takes
all my restraint to not reach out and shake her, demanding answers. It occurs
to me that my powers might be useful in persuasion, but I quickly stifle that
thought. I want her to trust me, for whatever reason, and I know if I won her
trust that way it would just be bad Karma all around.

"No.
It's just, not many people who are born here ever leave," Grace responds
after some thought. She swallows hard and takes another sip of her coffee.

"My
mom left," I say carefully.

Grace
bites her lip and nods, but doesn't say anything else. I drain my coffee and
cleared my throat nervously.

"So,
how long have you been on the Ladies Council?" I ask aiming for a neutral
subject that might get her to open up.

Grace
relaxes slightly, but she still sounds tense when she responds. "A little
over a year."

I nod
and swish the ice around in my glass. "How does one get on the counsel
anyway?"

She
tenses up again. Clearly, that was the wrong question. I'm ready to get out of here
and back to the library when she surprises me by answering. "You have to
be a member of one of the founding families. The oldest female is automatically
on the council."

My
eyebrows pop up. "Founding families?" Grace shifts uncomfortably in
her seat, so I rush on. "Sorry, I should probably know more about this.
Truth is, I didn't know anything about my Grandmother or Price until I came
here to live after my parents died."

Grace's
mouth falls open and her eyes go wide. It's my turn to shift uncomfortably.
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes but I blink them away.

I take
in a deep, ragged breath. "Anyway, if you don't mind explaining some of it
to me, I'd appreciate it," I say lamely.

Indecision
flits across Grace's face. She presses her lips together and nods once.
"Yes, yes of course. Hm. Where to start?"

"How
about the founding families?" I will my voice to stay even despite my
eagerness. I already know most of the basic history of Price, at least what's
available in public record since that's all I can find in the Price Estate
Library, but I'm eager to find out if Grace knows more.

"Well,"
Grace begins, her voice taking on a new confidence as she falls into a familiar
subject, "there were eight." I do a quick mental count of all the
members of the Ladies Council. The numbers seem to add up. I nod and she
continues. "When the town was settled it was decided that a council would
be created, one that would be made up of the oldest female member of each of
the families."

"How
come Delia and her mother were at the meeting? Wouldn't it be only one of
them?" I ask.

"Oh,
well, Delia is set to take her mother's place once she turns eighteen,"
Grace explains.

I bite
my lip to keep my jaw from dropping. "Why? I mean, why does Delia have to
take over?"

Grace's
brow deepens into a frown. "That's just how it works," she says
simply.

"Care
to elaborate?" I ask trying and failing to keep the frustration out of my
voice.

"Delia's
mother, Miranda, is not a blood member of a founding family. She just married
in. Blood is thicker than paper." Grace gives a wry smirk, very
uncharacteristic of her.

"Okay.
So you can "age in" to the council?

"Yes,
or you inherit your position. Like me." Grace's gaze drops to the table,
her shoulders trembling from the tension in her body.