Broken Elements (15 page)

“We could have a
Friday the 13th
and
Halloween
marathon,” I suggested.

“With big pots of water instead of popcorn,” he added. I tried to smile, with little success. “Look, Aidan, I know I wasn’t there. I don’t know what it was like. And I only met you a short time ago, but I still know you’re not the sort of person who would let another burn to death. You told the guard not to go inside the building. You were there in an effort to save Amanda, not to kill her. And let’s be clear: you didn’t kill her. He did. He would have killed her whether you were there or not, because unlike you, he enjoys killing.”

I’d told myself these same things countless times, trying to believe them. I never did. It seemed wrong that this near-stranger’s words carried more weight than my own voice, but somehow his assurances felt more reliable than my own attempts to assuage my guilt. He was attempting to absolve me of my crimes, and I dearly wanted to let him, except for one thing.

“Even if all that is true—and it probably is,” I added, because he looked like he planned to object, “there was still the third man. A man who was completely uninvolved in our attempts to catch the killer and was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sera and I decided to be badass heroes, a role we’d never played before. We had no idea what we were doing, not really, but we were both too freaking stubborn to admit we were in over our heads. Our attitude, our arrogance, cost him his life. If we hadn’t been there, he’d still be alive today. If I hadn’t let the fire burn, hadn’t waited to enter the room, he’d still be alive.”

“Maybe. Maybe the killer knew he was there, and wouldn’t have let him live. Maybe he would have drunk himself to death a week later, or maybe he would have turned his life around and found a job and home by now. We’ll never know. No matter how much you dwell on it, no matter how much you beat yourself up, you’ll never have the answer and you’ll never change what happened. All you can do is let it go.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. He was alone. If I don’t mourn him, if I don’t remember him, who will? He was alone,” I repeated. “They never even learned his name. He died a John Doe. If I forgive myself, if I let his memory fade, it will be like he never existed. I can’t just let it go.”

“I’m not saying to forget. You’ll never forget, and that’s the way it should be. Let yourself remember. Light a candle for him on the night of his death. Say a prayer for his soul, if that’s what you believe. Donate money to homeless organizations in his name, any name you choose. Let him be a part of you, because he’s already there. But you’ve been hiding from the world and from your life because of a horrible, terrible accident. Your life is no more than a shadow of what it should be. You need to forgive yourself and move on. Remember him, but remember yourself, too. Just... try.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the words. Driving home from the fire, Sera had repeated, over and over again, that it was an accident, but I hadn’t believed her. I thought she was only trying to exonerate herself, and maybe she was. Hearing the words emerging from Mac’s lips felt like a new language, one I had forgotten how to speak: the language of forgiveness. He was asking just one thing of me, that I try, and it almost sounded like a reasonable request. Slowly, hesitantly, I gave him the smallest of nods.

Finally, he walked toward me, bridging the distance between us with long, sure strides. Crouching, he gathered my wet clothes into a plastic bag, and then, without warning, he swooped me into his arms, holding me easily. I squeaked in startled protest. “Lots of rocks and fallen branches on the path back to the car,” he explained. “You would tear up your feet, and we’ve got to keep you in fighting shape. We’ve still got some bad guys to chase.” Even though his grip was solid and sure, I grabbed onto his shoulders for support and let him carry me for a bit.

Chapter 14

That night, the teddy bear fortress was a somber place, the easy relaxation of the last couple days replaced by tension and an almost tangible sense of hopelessness. The others had arrived home before us and were watching and re-watching the surveillance video, trying to find any clues they’d missed on the previous fifty views. When we entered the room, eyebrows rose at the sight of me in a man’s flannel shirt and nothing else, but no one said a word, not even Sera. Brian had a rare frown on his face, the events of the day obviously taking their toll. I changed and rushed back downstairs, wanting to offer any comfort I could.

When I returned, Brian was standing several feet behind the others, looking so alone it broke my heart. I stepped behind him and slid my hands around his chest, giving him a light hug. “He’s innocent,” I whispered. “I’m sure of it. And we’re going to find this asshole, okay?” He covered my hands with his own and squeezed, a silent thank you.

We caught each other up on our findings of the day. Their half of the bloodhound gang had been forced to eliminate the convict from our list of suspects. While he was a possible physical match, he also had such a low IQ it was a wonder he wasn’t listed as developmentally disabled. There was no way the man could be a criminal mastermind, they all agreed. Vivian had reviewed the list of parolees a second time and found several worth investigating. The three of them were going out again the next day, but no one was feeling particularly optimistic. It was a long shot, and we all knew it.

“We still don’t know what happened with the police report,” I said. “There could be an accomplice on the force.”

“A human accomplice?” snorted Brian. “I’ll look into it, but for now I think we have to assume that my uncle was having a senior moment. Never tell him I said that.”

I shook my head. It seemed unlikely that Stephen Grant had ever had a senior moment in his life. It was a dissatisfying answer, but also the most likely. Faced with nothing but a slew of improbabilities, one had to be accepted as slightly more probable than the others. “Occam’s Razor,” I said.

“The who in the what now?” asked Sera.

“It’s the principle that, all other things being equal, the simplest explanation is often the correct one. We have two separate killers. Both are still alive, and they seem to be working together. And Stephen Grant made a mistake on his report.”

“A pretty big freaking mistake,” noted Mac.

Brian nodded. “Now we have to figure out how to track down two homicidal elementals, when we weren’t exactly having much luck with one.” He moved to the kitchen and began rustling through the cupboards. “There is not enough alcohol in the house to deal with today.”

Sera stood in one easy motion and began to pace across a small section of carpet, twisting her hands together and muttering to herself. I knew from experience that this thought process could take hours, so I grabbed an empty notebook out of my purse and began to make notes.

The moment the pen touched the paper, the words flowed easily, the day’s events finding their way onto the page in my neat, slanted script. When Brian returned with a tray full of glasses, I quietly took a drink but continued to write, recalling details I had nearly forgotten and articulating my frustrations.

Even in my private journal, secrecy was too firmly ingrained in me to openly recount recent events, but even using coded language was enough to clear my mind. The longer I wrote, the calmer I felt, until I imagined an aura of perfect control surrounding me.

Hesitantly, I put down the pen and reached out to the river behind us, pulling it up and out, stretching it like taffy. I could see it perfectly in my mind, the circle I was forming, making it spin faster and faster. I formed it into a cone, a perfect tornado of water. I drew this toward me over the land, soaking everything in its path, until it stood before the living room window, spinning easily in place.

Grinning at my success, I inverted the cone and produced small globes of water on its surface, creating an unseasonal liquid Christmas tree. It was perfect. For that moment, I felt perfect. I asked the water to form waves five feet above the ground and sent it flowing gently back to the river, all in absolute control.

“Nice,” said Brian, quietly watching the show. “We all knew you could do it, of course.”

I smiled, enjoying the sense of accomplishment. “Yeah, I’m awesome, so long as I don’t bother to feel any stressful emotions. You think I could get some elemental doc to prescribe anti-anxiety meds?”

“You could meditate,” suggested Vivian. “Or do yoga.” I feared her suggestions were earnest.

“That sounds suspiciously like exercise,” I said. I might want increased control, but anything that involved working out was just crazy talk.

“Screw it,” announced Sera, ending her pacing suddenly. “We’re catching these mofos.”

It might not have been a particularly original suggestion, but at least it was one we all agreed with.

“We’re trying a stakeout again. We should have done it from the beginning. There are six of us this time, so we can cover more ground.”

“Buddy system?” I asked. None of us should risk an encounter on our own.

She nodded. “Mac and Simon, you want to be Team Shifter?” She barely waited for their nods before continuing. “Good. Vivian, you’re with me. We’ll head out as soon as I update my father. Everyone, cancel whatever plans you have, because we’re nocturnal for the foreseeable future. Let’s get our butts over to one of the parks, one he hasn’t hit recently. And Brian, keep her calm, all right? Cause if one of those assholes turns up, I want her to be able to ram that pretty Christmas tree of hers right up his ass.”

Two hours later, I was feeling, if not calm, then extremely bored, which was close enough to fool my magic. Brian and I had been taking turns staring through binoculars at possible dump sites, and so far we’d seen nothing. Brian had been hitting the flask hard enough that I was certain I would need to drive home, and he was alternately texting and fiddling with the radio in his restlessness.

It was another cold night. Few people would be camping in this weather. Even the animals were silent, still curled up in their nests, waiting for the thaw of true spring. The only movement came from the wind, alternately whistling and howling as it danced among the pines, caressing the needles gently before ripping branches free with no warning. A storm was on its way, and the air felt thick and full of promise.

“Why aren’t there any air elementals?” Brian asked idly. It was his turn with the binoculars, and he was watching the wind’s exuberant movement.

“Wind isn’t part of the landscape. It’s windy everywhere. You know that.”

He shrugged. “Hey, some of us weren’t raised in some fancy shmancy elemental enclave where we were taught this stuff before we learned to write.” I stuck my tongue out at him, the only appropriate response. “Besides, look at this wind. You’re telling me it’s not part of the landscape?” He gestured at the world before us, his face dreamy.

He was right. The wind affected everything it touched. Leaves and pine needles soared through the air, and trees shook from side to side. It was a moonless night, revealing only vague outlines of the trees. It made the shaking branches and leaves look ethereal against the midnight sky. “Well, you’re ice because of the glaciers, right? A proper element of the earth from its beginnings. Where would wind come from?”

“I don’t know. But this is going to bother me, now.” A second later, he already had moved on. “So, you and Mac, huh?”

“Me and Mac what?” I asked. I knew exactly what he was asking, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Particularly considering that I had no idea what the answer was. When in doubt, delay.

“You know. Your little walk of shame earlier.” He grinned at me, a playful smile, but his eyes were unfocused.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” He held his finger and thumb close together, indicating a very small degree of inebriation. I snorted. “It wasn’t like that. Your mind just goes right to the naughty place, doesn’t it? Mac and I aren’t…” I found I didn’t want to define exactly what we weren’t. I didn’t want to commit to not being anything just yet. “We aren’t.” I ended firmly, saying absolutely nothing with utter certainty.

He said nothing, merely held my gaze and smirked. The silence dragged out between us.

“He’s nice, okay? He’s not bad looking,” I finally admitted. He continued to stare, and I felt something closer to the truth pass my lips. “Maybe, if I didn’t feel so messed up all the time, there’d be something to talk about. But until I put myself back together again, it’s not going to happen, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix myself before we catch this guy and this story is finally over.”

“You’re not messed up, Aidan,” he said softly.

“Yes, I am. But it’s okay. I think I finally want to fix myself. That’s progress, right? So I guess, no, you nosy bastard, there’s no Mac and me.”

“Don’t you want all that, someday? A partner, a house, some tiny watery babies swimming around?”

For a moment, I saw clearly the picture he was drawing and it was… nice. Unexpectedly nice. I let the image dissolve, knowing that future wasn’t mine, not for a very long time. “Maybe, someday. When we all finally have jetpacks and flying cars. For now, he’s a friend, and even having friends feels new and scary.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” he asked in a bad approximation of a New York accent. The words were light, but he took another pull from the flask, avoiding eye contact.

“No,” I said quietly. “You’re someone I never should have run away from. I was escaping Sera, and the memories, and you got caught up in it. I’m sorry, Brian. I’m so sorry.”

His blue eyes were soft and serious, and there wasn’t a hint of a smile about his mouth. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. I leaned my head on his chest and just relaxed, listening to his heart for several long moments. Finally, he spoke again, with none of his familiar teasing tone. “Everyone thinks they’re a little bit broken, Aidan. The trick is to find someone who accepts all parts of you, just as you are. Because you’re too freaking awesome to be single, you know.”

Brian had a gift for saying exactly what I needed to hear, whether it was true or not. I squeezed his arm lightly and wondered how I’d ever gone so long without my friends.

Hours later, I was feeling less sappy and considerably more snappy. My ass was numb from sitting still so long, and my shoulder muscles no longer seemed to move independently of each other. I’d been staring at the campsite for so long I was no longer certain what I was even seeing, in much the same way a word will turn to nonsense if you say it too many times. “I’ve got to get out of this car,” I announced. The interior light turned on briefly as I opened the door, ruining our efforts at stealth, but I wasn’t sure I cared anymore. I placed each leg in turn across a tree stump, stretching the muscles. Sensation returned slowly, and I jumped up and down, encouraging it to move throughout my body, washing away the pins and needles.

I wasn’t ready to get back in the car. I walked toward the campsite, instead, staying away from the two tents that housed a couple of truly dedicated, and possibly insane, campers. Even though the area was empty, I remembered caution, slipping as quietly as I could through the trees. The rubber soles of my boots made little noise as I carefully stepped among the pine needles. About thirty feet away from the water, I stopped, peeking around a trunk toward an empty campsite. Nothing moved.

A hand suddenly clamped around my mouth. I jumped, feeling my arm scrape against the bark of the tree while my heart erupted into double time. Another arm came around my torso and held me tight. “Shhh,” said Brian.

Pissed off, I stomped hard on his foot, suddenly grateful I was wearing boots instead of my sneakers. He grunted and held me tighter, breathing his way through the pain. “Look,” he gritted out quietly, removing the hand over my mouth to point to a spot far to our left, deep in the trees that marked the boundary of the campsite. I saw nothing at first, the darkness dulling my vision, but finally a figure detached itself from the forest and moved slowly into the clearing.

The man was hard to see, covered in head to toe black, and while he might have been stealthy, he was also very relaxed. He glanced lazily about the campsite, scanning the trees and the nearby lake. He seemed to take everything in at once, as if he was looking for something. Simon had removed the cameras after they’d proven so ineffective, but I thought this man was looking for them. That possibility, coupled with the man’s average build and the balaclava covering his face, told me everything. It was him, standing mere feet away.

I didn’t think or plan. I knew that I was powerful enough to take this guy, but only if I didn’t allow any emotions to interfere. I didn’t give myself time to allow any doubts or fears to grab hold. I simply pulled water from the air and sent it flying toward him, envisioning his nose and mouth and asking the water to enter him and replace all his air with wet death.

Though part of me believed he deserved to die, that wasn’t my intention. At least, I don’t think it was. Underneath all my snark and regret, I hoped I still had a merciful spirit. Even so, at that moment I found no such kindness within me. I merely reacted, doing the only thing I could think to do that would immobilize this man. I might have tried to save him with chest compressions, or I might have let him drown. I’ll never know.

He saw the water coming toward him, but he didn’t move an inch. He turned his face toward us, easily able to pick us out in the dark, and he smiled slowly. The water instantly stopped. A wall of ice hung in the air, and as the liquid crashed into it, it simply dropped to the ground, harmless.

He laughed, seeming delighted with his accomplishment. With no warning, he broke the ice wall into hundreds of tiny pieces, then sent the jagged shards flying toward us. He didn’t act cocky and self-assured, the way he had at the warehouse. Rather, I saw a pure, childlike wonder that felt even more menacing as he sent bullets of ice toward us.