The Elementals (14 page)

           
“I don't have any more time..." He was speaking to himself, but he was far from mumbling.

           
“You have to tell us now,” she demanded, urgent and frazzled. That voice on the line echoed in her head, taunting her, challenging her to do something. She would not back down, she would save him.

           
He clenched her arms, pleading silently with her to be calm, but it was far too late for that. He simply said, “You’re right. I do.”

           
Unwanted images ran amok in her mind. Images of Ian with Bryne's wounds and scars. Of him being scared, alone, defenseless. He could've been screaming for someone to save him, possibly her, and she wasn't there.

           
Worst of all, it was her fault. If she had run after him, done something... If she begged him to stay even, he might not have gone. Because of her, an innocent love-sick human was going to die. Because of whom she was.

           
"Marissa! Era!" Terra felt dizzy from the scenes her mind was creating. "Ian's in trouble." Ian was going to die. Because of her….

She groaned, hating all of the terrible analogies her mind formed and how it all could be linked together.

           
It was typical of Marissa to take the blame on herself. She saw Ian at the house, but she didn't see him being kidnapped. As hard as she tried while sitting on the floor in front of the couch, she couldn't see anything else. In Bryne's opinion it was pointless to have tried; she was never able to control her visions or empathy. Any tricks they had read and tried was of no avail. She buried her head in her hands, rocking back and forth.

           
"It's not your fault," Terra reassured for what felt like the hundredth time.

           
"Why can't I ever see anything that is important?"

           
Era sat next to her, gently restraining her to the wall to keep her still. This had to be done frequently as a precaution against her falling into her natural instinct to morph into a puddle of water. "It's not controllable, we understand. No one blames you."

           
Marissa shook her head hard, her hair slapping her face, strands stuck to the streaks her tears were leaving. "I blame myself." She wheezed, "it's... All... My... Fault... He's... In... There." She hiccupped, "sorry.”

           
Bryne finally told them who the danger had been. It was an elder man by the name of Hadrian. There were many people within the Kin and it wasn't of any amazement that none of the girls had heard of them, even with Aunt Gwen in the group.

           
Fire told them all that he knew of the man. Hadrian was power hungry; he desired control of everyone. Of course, by then, they knew that. What they didn't know was that he had his own powers. Era, Marissa, Bryne, and Terra, they were all gifted, and only like a good villain could be, he was too. He had greater manipulation of movement than them. Than any of the Kin.

           
Terra stood and began pacing, forming a plan in her head. "Pull yourself together, Issa. We need you." She was beginning to rethink her primary decision to take her out of school in the middle of her day. She was already thinking that it was a bad action to tell her about what happened to Ian, the phone call. There was little that could be hiding from her thought. She would have to come home and she would feel the despair and worry. The turmoil of emotions that was raging in Terra.

           
"I don't think that this is something you can plan out." Era smoothed Marissa's hair, combing it between her long fingers.

           
Bryne concurred. "There's no planning with Hadrian but that is not relevant because none of you are going."

           
"Yes, we are." Terra insisted.

           
"Look,
plays - with - dirt
, this is my battle, my war…”

           
"Your beliefs on this matter are a moot point," Terra responded calmly but firmly. She shouldn't have gotten attached to the sweet side that Bryne had been showing. He was fire... She continued, "We’re in this together. The four of us are going to that school and the four of us are going to fight. We have to remember what the prophet said. Together, we cannot be broken."

           
"We don't know this prophet. She could be crazy."
Bryan
stated.

           
"She's been right so far, hasn't she?"

           
He grunted without a proper argument, and Terra went back to her erratic pacing, from the back of the couch to the edge of the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Back and forth... Back and forth...

           
"I think that Bryne is right," Era said. "There' can't be a way to plan this."

           
"What else can we do? Wait like sitting ducks until two?"

           
"
Yes
," Bryne emphasized. "This wasn't a plan on his part, he saw Ian leave here and he saw an opportunity. He doesn't know what to expect from us either. We're on even ground."

           
"They have Ian! This isn't
even
ground!" Terra screamed.

           
He waved his hand dismissively. "Aside from that." He patted a space between him and the arm of the sofa. "Sit down, relax. You're doing nothing for your lover by pacing like a mad woman."

           
Terra felt some urge inside of her to slap him, but she gave in to the other part of her that was begging to listen to him, and took the space, her arms cross over her chest like a tempered child. She could almost feel the furious pounding of her heart against her rib cage, as if it hoped to break its confinements and leap out of her chest. It would have probably tried to come out of her throat, but that was occupied by her stomach.

           
Nervously, her leg shook, jerking like a twitch. Forcefully, Bryne slammed his hand down on her thigh. She didn't miss the inquisitive look that Era and Marissa threw to each other. Terra nudged his hand off.

           
"Sorry. Thanks."

           
"You should sleep."

           
"I want to be awake."

           
With his hands on his knees he heaved himself up, the couch jostling slightly from the release of the weight. She didn't look but heard him rummaging in the kitchen, clinking glasses and the fridge closing with a shush.

           
She stared at the floor, how the grain moved, the knots, and darker pieces. Like when cloud gazing she was able to see pictures. She saw a lion ready to pounce on a defenseless lamb, a pointed hat, a necklace with thirteen links. The pictures were then blocked by legs and a shadowy hand holding a glass of milk under her head. There was a reddish glow that exceeded out from the hand but quickly receded.

           
She took the warm glass and a sip. It was warm. "So you can warm things up."

           
"I can do more than that. That's small but quite handy. At home we didn't have a stove or a microwave.”

           
“Why,” Era asked airily.

           
“
I
was the stove and microwave.” He tipped his head at her interestingly. “I thought you were smart.”

           
“She is, but she can be a bit...” Terra couldn't find the right words. “Airy.” She smiled at Era in kindness; in the distance Terra could see the tiny painted fluffy clouds, the background a baby blue sky.

           
Curiously she took a glance at her wristwatch but as soon as she brought it up to eye level it was wrenched from her. Bryne grabbed at the face, the clasp breaking, bits of silver scattering. In his fist he squeezed. Bits could be heard cracking, the twisting of metal. He opened his hand up and showed there in his palm the crushed pieces of what used to be her watch. Her only one at that. She could see the inside flakes of what used to be the sun and leaves, the papery green background. There was no repairing it.

           
“Why did you do that?!”

           
“Trust my inner clock, the real ones will drive you insane.”

           
“What, now you expect us to go without stoves, microwaves and watches?”

           
“You don't have to go without, but it will cause you gray hairs. Haven't you ever heard of the watched pot theory?”
Bryan
groaned not waiting for an answer, “drink your milk.”

           
“Are you trying for me to sleep?” Terra chuckled.

           
“Yes.”

           
She set the milk on the floor. He grumbled but did not force her, though she saw his hand twitch as if he was thinking about slapping her.

           
She looked to Era to decipher what he said and while grinning she mouthed, "
little tree hugger brat
." Terra tried not to laugh feeling a little warmth for the fire-boy.

           
Laugh. Unfortunately is was the wrong time to show any sign of joy when her friend was being held and possibly hurt. She didn't want to think of the torture he was going through but it was nearly inescapable. Unless Hadrian planned on giving him a herbal drug, there were not many ways of torture for their kind. They were peaceful, and every power that they had was used for good. What if he found a way to use it for evil?

           
Bryne was right, though she'd never admit it. She was going to go prematurely gray from all of the stress.

           
Marissa had gotten up and fetched her makeup kits. She sat cross - legged painting Era's face in light blues and silver. Swirls like smoke curled from the corner of her eyes, her lips shimmering pale.

           
Era in turn painted Marissa. Dark blue and sea green, waves from her eyes. When Terra was next, they both worked on her. The bristles of the brush, their warm and cold hands comforting, relaxing her in a way she didn't expect. It was over too soon, and Marissa held up a small mirror.

           
Terra caught her reflection. Earthy brown and green, yellows and blue flowers. It was like her eyes had sprouted ivy flowers. It was lovely.

           
Era placed the brushes in their holders. "It's like preparing for battle. Bryne, do you want us to draw something on you?"

           
"Over my dead body, feather duster."

           
She giggled and he smiled at the sound of tinkling bells. "How about black? Like ashes? I could paint them on your neck and chin."

           
He nodded and she floated over. She quickly sketched red and orange flames from his collarbones to his chin. Dotted over his cheek were the sparks. It was realistically beautiful, and Bryne's statement was a great motivator.

           
"You're a good artist, Era, how long have you been painting?”
“Seems like forever. When I lived on the street I pulled out broken crayons from the dumpsters and painted the sidewalks. I'd have a block done by midnight, if I worked all day and didn't eat.”

           
Bryne had the look of pitiful shock on his face. “You lived on the streets?”