Autumn Storm (21 page)

“Can it … project things? Like, the earth
put pictures in my head. Does the air show me its memories in a
different way?”

Air connects the conscious and subconscious,
mind and emotion. It can project images or compel you through
feelings.

“I thought so.” She fell quiet, troubled.
The dancing clouds in the clearing were memories from the air. Was
the dark-haired ghost she’d followed to Miner’s Drop also a
memory?

What troubles you?

“A lot,” she said with a deep sigh. “Stupid
things like …boys.”

The Turner twins cause much
heartache.
He chuckled.

Autumn’s face felt warm. Sam was either
reading her mind or knew enough about the twins to understand the
effect they had on every girl they crossed.

“Beck was so sweet at first but now is
flat-out ignoring me and Decker…” she trailed off. There really
wasn’t any way to describe Decker or her confusion about him. “He’s
unpredictable. I guess because his elements are?”

Partially. Decker is a wounded animal.

“That’s exactly it. He lashes out even when
I try to help him. I’ve pieced together what happened to make him
like that. No one will tell me everything, but I know he pushed his
girlfriend into Miner’s Drop and he can’t get over her. Except
sometimes, I don’t think that’s what happened,” she said, pensive.
“He hurts too much to do that to someone he loved.”

He is not all …himself.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.” She shivered.
“Maybe that thing pushed her, and he didn’t know.” The explanation
still didn’t sit well with her. She’d been able to bring him back
with a touch.

Sam was quiet.

“I wish the elements could just
talk
,” she said in frustration. “Do they communicate with
you the same way?”

Yes. It is their way. With enough time,
you learn to understand most of what they tell you. There are
always secrets but -
he shrugged -
they are no different
than humans in that way.

“I guess. Sam, Decker told me he kills
witchlings. But when we’re together, it’s like I belong” she
sighed, hating the words “
to
him. I can’t say I belong
with
him, because it’s something more than that. It makes me
not mind the things he does. And that’s wrong, because he hurts
people. Does that make sense?”

It does.

“Does that make me a bad person?”

No, child.
His voice was gentle.

“I feel like it does. What he’s doing is
wrong. Me accepting it makes me wrong, too,” she said uncertainly.
“But when we’re together, all of that goes out the window. I don’t
know what to think. Or feel. Or do.”

What you do, if you could act without
limitations?

“I’d fix him.”

I’m not certain he can be fixed. He has
chosen to become what he’s becoming.

“You’ll tell me the same thing everyone else
does, won’t you?” She rolled her eyes at him. “There are no second
chances when you make a bad choice.”

It’s a sensitive subject.
His words
were accompanied by a laugh that left her shaking her head at what
he found funny.

“I didn’t make a bad choice,” she said. “I
got hit by a car.”

Maybe the elements knew you needed to
live.

“Maybe. They didn’t have to hit me with a
car, if that’s the case.”

They have their ways. I do not always
understand them either.

Autumn snorted. She didn’t like that answer.
“During my worst days, you know what I thought?”

He shook his head.

“I thought – there’s gotta be a reason.”

Is there?

“I’m not sure yet. I think sometimes that
bad things just kinda happen. Maybe there is no greater purpose or
reason to it. You get hurt and move on.”

Possibly. Sometimes we may not be meant to
understand the reasons.

“That’s kinda depressing.” Tired of trying
to make sense of the world, she looked around. Sam had no books,
games or televisions in his dwelling. “What do you do out here all
day?”

I watch the world.

“Doesn’t that get boring?”

Never. Monday, I saw horrible things that
made me doubt you humans. And then I saw you meet the doe at the
edge of the forest, and I smiled. Human nature doesn’t let me get
bored.

“She was beautiful, Sam,” Autumn murmured,
recalling how soft the doe’s fur had been. “Decker walked back with
me. I’ve never walked that far without my cane. I don’t think I
would’ve made it without him.” Conflicted about the teen, she fell
silent.

Caring for him does not make you bad.

“I’m not so sure.”

Trust your instincts and the elements. They
will guide you.

She nodded.

Wind howled past the opening of the
dwelling. They both glanced towards it.

The storm comes. You will have to leave
now or risk being caught here at night.
By Sam’s smile, he knew
why she rose so quickly.

“Definitely not doing that,” she said. She
wanted to fall into Decker’s shadows too badly. She wasn’t going to
make it easy for him to claim her. He’d have to earn her by doing
what was right.

She wasn’t sure he could.

Autumn shook her head. She’d been upset
about him almost since arriving to the school. Sam cocked his head
to the side, listening to something she couldn’t hear. She
waited.

Beck is almost here. He will take you
back.

She crossed her arms, irritated. “I don’t
need help making it back.”

Sam grinned.
I know. He’s trying very
hard to do his duty. It is not easy for him.

“I guess.”

“Sam?” Beck called into the tree. He entered
a moment later, covered in snow. His eyes widened when he saw
Autumn, and he froze.

“I know, it’s storming, we have to go,” she
said. “Thank you for talking to me, Sam.”

You’re welcome.

“Do you eat mashed potatoes?”

I don’t know what those are.

“I’ll bring you some.” She turned to Beck,
whose mouth was slack. “Come on.”

He moved as she approached, saying nothing.
Autumn walked by him to the entrance of the stump. Air magick kept
the cold and snow out. It was almost pure white out, the snow
falling in thick sheets.

As she watched, the air cleared a path for
her. Autumn was several steps out of the dwelling when she noticed
Beck hadn’t followed. She waited for him to emerge. After another
long minute, he did. She started away, when he caught her arm.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he
said, concern on his face. “What’re you thinking, wandering in the
forest in the middle of a storm?”

“I was thinking I wanted to find Sam, and I
did.” She pulled out of his grip. His soothing aura draped over her
like the cold air that greeted her when she left the dwelling. She
wanted to be angry at him but couldn’t.

He gave her a long look then shook his head,
offering his arm. Autumn took it grudgingly. They walked down the
path cleared by magick while snow accumulated quickly around
them.

“I almost called my parents to help me find
you. Trust me, you do
not
want my mom hunting you down,”
Beck said.

“I’m okay,” Autumn replied. “I can take care
of myself.”

“I know you can. I’m a little edgy
anyway.”

She looked up at him, noticing the dark
circles beneath his eyes and the tension in his body. She wondered
if Decker hurting Light witchlings was the reason Beck was worried.
At once, she felt guilty about her attraction to Decker while
judging Beck so harshly. He had a lot on his shoulders.

“Are
you
okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

A gust of wind blew snow into their faces.
Autumn shielded her eyes then sucked in a deep breath. Air magick
swirled in her body. She asked it to protect them from more gusts.
To her surprise, a bubble formed around them, preventing wind and
snow from reaching them.

“It’s like a reverse snow globe,” Beck said,
fascinated. “Neat trick.”

The sound of branches snapping made them
stop in place. A short distance ahead, a tall tree was splintering
under the weight of snow. It bowed dangerously. Beck pulled her
into his body to keep her from walking forward.

“Screw this. We’re taking the short cut,” he
muttered.

Autumn was about to ask him what that meant
when the world fell white and quiet, as if they’d walked into a
cloud. When the cloud cleared, she stood in a huge kitchen facing a
wall of windows through which there was nothing visible but thick
snow. She turned to see stainless steel appliances, long sheets of
marble counters and aged wood cabinets.

“Come on,” Beck said, motioning her to
follow.

The log cabin was huge, with twelve foot
ceilings, crystal and wrought iron chandeliers, and stone floors
covered by thick rugs.

Beck ducked into room. She entered a few
steps behind him. The natural décor extended into the family area,
a comfortable if large room with a reading nook, massive flat
screen television and theatre-style seating. A hearth blazed on one
side. Two men were at the pool table. Both gazed at Beck, one
amused and the other curious.

“Dad, grandpa, this is Autumn,” Beck said.
“She’s staying here for a little while.”

Their gazes turned to her then her cane.
“It’s okay, Beck, just take me –“

“You’re so
not
off the hook for
wandering in the forest during a storm,” Beck said firmly. “Michael
Turner, my dad and the short little man there is Grandpa
Louis.”

She rolled her eyes at him then took them
in. The twins looked a lot like their father, who was tall and lean
with steady brown eyes, hair silvering at the temples and laugh
lines around his mouth and eyes. Grandpa Louis was close to her
height with cocoa skin, white hair and a warm smile.

They weren’t what she expected. She sensed
their magick: it was gentle and calming, though it seemed to have
no effect on Beck’s agitated air.

“I’ll be back later,” Beck told his family.
He gave her a look. “No funny stuff. No running off or calling a
cab or whatever. Got it?”

Something more than her being lost was
wrong. Sensing it, she bit her tongue to keep from retorting and
nodded. He strode out and back towards the kitchen, muttering about
needing cookies.

An awkward silence fell as his father and
grandfather gazed at her curiously. Michael moved at last and
motioned her to a cozy armchair near the pool table.

“Do you play?” he asked.

She shook her head and crossed to the chair.
Autumn tugged off her coat, watching them return to their game.
Grandpa Louis tried a bank shot that nudged the wrong ball towards
the hole in the corner.

“It’s mainly geometry,” Michael said.

“And good aim,” Grandpa Louis added.

She wasn’t sure what to say. Biji claimed
the Turners were billionaires. Looking at the cabin, she could tell
they were wealthy. What did she say to someone like that? She’d
never had more than the meager stipend the orphanage gave her.

They played for a few minutes, the soft
knocking and padded thumps the only sounds. Michael sank four.
Grandpa Louis came back and sank the rest of his then the eight
ball.

“He’s a shark,” Michael said with an easy
smile.

“I’ve had a few more years of playing time,”
Grandpa Louis replied. “My dear, would you like some tea?” He
passed off his cue to Michael, who dug all the balls out from under
the table.

“Sure,” she said.

“If Beck didn’t steal all the cookies on his
way out, I’ll bring you a few of those as well.”

She smiled. The small man left.

“You were out in the storm?” Michael
asked.

“Sorta. I was with Sam.”

His gaze turned intent. “He doesn’t usually
take an interest in the students.”

“I keep hearing that,” she replied, eyes on
her clenched hands. “Um, and thank you for replacing my iPad. I
didn’t mean to leave it outside.”

“Not a problem.” He sounded amused not mad.
“I take it you’re not going home for the holiday?”

“No.”

“Air magick?”

She nodded. “And earth secondary.”

“A rare combination.” His voice was quiet.
“A good one, though. Grandpa Louis is earth primary and air
secondary. I’m earth.”

“Must be a very calm household.” She looked
up. He was corralling the billiard balls in a triangle.

“I think they call it balanced,” he said.
“My wife was the Mistress of Dark before my son, Decker, took
over.”

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, horrified by
the idea of two Deckers in the same house.

He laughed. “You’ve met one of them?”

She nodded.

“The wife of Grandpa Louis was a Dark
Mistress, too.”

“It must be so hard to love someone whose
job is to do such things,” she said. “How are you so normal?”

“You take things one day at a time.”

It didn’t seem possible that anyone could
tolerate such a life. Autumn didn’t want to consider what the man
before her might’ve been through or how he managed to smile when he
knew what his wife had done.

Grandpa Louis returned with a tray of tea.
She smiled as he set it down on the small table beside her chair.
He and Michael pulled up chairs to join her. Grandpa Louis handed
her a delicate cup and saucer that looked old. She balanced it
carefully, suspecting nothing in the house was cheap.

“I see you have battle wounds,” Grandpa
Louis said, eyes on the scar on her neck. “Let me show you one of
mine.”

Autumn stared into her tea, embarrassed. The
elderly man rolled up one flannel sleeve to display a twisted,
mottled scar that ran from wrist to elbow.

“Wow,” she said, not expecting him to have
anything resembling her scars. “I can’t imagine what did that.”

“I was in Vietnam,” he explained. “Mortar
attack sent my bayonet up into my arm and out my elbow. Scars are
badges of honors. They tell people you’ve lived a full life.” He
was smiling.