Broken Elements (23 page)

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. I almost asked to speak with Mac, but I feared just hearing his voice would convince me to divulge my location before I was ready. “Tell him… tell him I say ‘impulse control.’ And I’ll see you tonight.” I hung up without waiting for a reply.

I figured I should get the other call I ought to make out of the way, too. Carmichael answered on the second ring. “We solved it,” I told him.

I enjoyed his moment of pure, stunned silence. No matter how weird this case became, I don’t think he ever expected it to be solved by some skinny, mouthy blond. “Seriously?” he finally managed.

His happiness was mitigated by the fact that I wouldn’t tell him who it was—I’m sure Sera would appreciate that—or what was going to happen next. “Someday, Carmichael. When you’re ready,” I told him sagely.

I heard much grumbling from the other end, including a few assurances that he was ready now, thank you very much. I smiled. There was something inexplicably satisfying about watching someone used to always getting their way be denied, but eventually I took pity on him. “Seriously, you and Johnson can’t handle this. Sera and I together couldn’t handle this. If we sent you after him, we’d be finding your bodies in a campsite.”

“What am I supposed to write in my report?”

“Hell, Carmichael, if you figured out what to write after Sera’s and my little demonstration the other day, you’re already well ahead of me.”

“We’re working something out.” He spoke in a deliberately mysterious tone.

That sounded ominous. “Now who’s being all vague and unforthcoming?”

“I can’t let you have all the fun, Ms. Brook. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up before I could reply.

With no further reasons to delay, I walked swiftly toward Crescent Beach Psychiatric Hospital. Even with my coat wrapped tight around me, the early morning chill slithered in through the cuffs and collar. We were near the ocean, well free of the mountain’s snow, but the coastal winds carried their own bite.

I slipped through the automatic doors and into the welcome blast of heated air. The interior was as vaguely pleasant and uninspired as the building’s exterior. Everything was clean and orderly. Artificial flowers dotted the room, and the walls held peaceful landscapes painted in subdued colors. The utter lack of personality was almost as disturbing as the thought of who lived in the building. This was the sort of place where people drifted away, losing themselves in a bland sea of nothingness.

“I’m here to see Trent Pond,” I informed the woman working the reception desk.

She smiled benignly and moved a clipboard toward me. “Please sign in. Mr. Pond has not had any visitors in a long time. It was good of you to come.”

I wasn’t sure about that. I scrawled a fake name, but answered honestly when she asked my element. As I followed the woman’s instructions to Trent’s ward, the reason for tracking magic within their walls became clear. Every hundred feet or so, I spotted another elemental using power. Few were doing much of anything. Most were popping small bursts of flame the size of matchsticks, or using water to wash their hands repeatedly. One woman moved the soil from one potted plant to another, and back again. It all appeared harmless, but none were left alone. They were surrounded by nurses and orderlies, all of whom presumably held their own powers. A delicate balance had been struck, and I imagined it would take little to disturb that balance.

Trent’s wing was upstairs and at the end of a sterile hallway. I had to pass through two sets of double doors, the second of which read “High Security,” before finding myself in front of a second reception desk. The man behind the desk requested that I leave my purse in a locker before visiting the patient. Finally, I was directed toward Trent’s room.

Two orderlies manned the doorway like statues. Neither was very large, but I supposed size wasn’t the issue. They only needed to collectively be strong enough to deal with an emotionally unstable half water. They nodded to me, then moved aside, letting me into the small, dim room.

Trent Pond sat at a rectangular metal table in the center of the room with his back to me, and he made no effort to turn when he heard me enter. He wore a green t-shirt and matching drawstring cotton pants, the uniform of all the hospital’s patients. I eased slowly around the table, expecting him to face me at any moment. He never moved. Finally, I sank into the chair across from him, watching him quietly.

He looked like every pure water I had ever seen, and like none of them. His hair was a delicate blond, but where the sun would have gleamed off its highlights, it hung lank and dull. His eyes were grey, but not the shifting tone of pebbles in a stream. They were a matte gunmetal grey, and their depths revealed nothing of what Trent held inside. Where my skin was pale, his was wan and sallow. I was certain he had once been beautiful, but now it appeared as if the very life had been drained from him, leaving him with only enough energy to continue living, whether he wanted to or not.

“Who are you?” It was a whisper, breathed through lips that barely moved.

I told him my name. “Your sister told me you were here. I am sorry to bother you, but I have questions, and I think you are the only one who can answer them.”

He tilted his head far to the right, then back to the left, studying me from each angle. “How is Lana?” His tone was indifferent, as though he really didn’t care about the answer.

“She’s fine. It looks like she’s become a proper northern California hippie.” I wondered if that image of his sister would bring life into his eyes. It didn’t.

He continued to study me. “You’re a water.” I nodded. “But not just water.” He centered his head and immediately reached out both hands, one after the other, and placed the fingertips softly on my cheeks, turning my face to catch the harsh light cast from the fluorescent bulbs above.

It was strange, and certainly unexpected, but I felt no sense of danger in his touch. “No. I’m half human.”

“You are like me.” He let go, fingers drifting gently back to the table. “Well, not quite like me.”

That, at least, I was glad to hear. While he exhibited none of Brian’s violent madness, there was a clear disconnect between his mind and the rest of the world that I did not seek to share.

“Lana told me that she never had any problems with her magic, and she is also half human. There have been countless half humans over the years, and I’ve never heard of anyone having the problems I have. But, recently… there was someone else. Another half-human with problems. I need to know. Can you always control your power?”

His mouth went slack and his eyes dull. For a moment, he appeared little more than a wax dummy sitting before me. Then he blinked, and the illusion broke. “No, it’s still there. The magic would never leave me. It loves me. It makes me special.” He began humming a soft, tuneless song and appeared to forget me altogether.

“Trent. Mr. Pond. Are you saying that you never had any problems with your magic? You’re not in here because of…” I stopped mid-sentence, unsure how I planned to finish the sentence.

“Am I in here because of my magic? Oh, yes. Yes, I am. They say I can’t use it. They say I can’t hurt myself. They tell me to stop. They say it’s dangerous. They don’t know what it’s like. It must be used. The magic insists.” With each sentence, he rapped the table, each tap growing progressively louder under the final sentence almost disappeared under the clanging metal.

One orderly peered through the window, eyebrows lifted, and I shook my head at him. Even as his gestures became more emphatic, Trent’s voice never rose above a gentle whisper. His hands dropped to his side, and he turned those gunmetal eyes on me. This time, they did not appear dull. In their depths, I saw an unfathomable well of sadness. Whatever else he might be, Trent Pond was utterly despondent. “They leave me incomplete.”

I found myself speaking as quietly as he was. “Why do they tell you not to use your magic, Trent? Why is it dangerous? How would you hurt yourself? Do they think you might hurt someone else?” I knew I was asking too many questions, but they fell out before I could stop them, so desperate was I to understand.

He twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder at the open doorway. Years of limited movement had stolen from him the typical fluidity of a water, and he used short, jerky movements. “They are watching,” he hissed.

“No, they’re not,” I insisted. “They’re turned away, and you are speaking too quietly for them to hear. Please, tell me what you know. I am scared that I might do the same, that I might hurt people.”

“I don’t hurt people. I’m not crazy, Aidan.” For a moment, he sounded indignant at the prospect, and then he started giggling, a high-pitched noise that started deep in his throat before slowly developing into a full cackle. It took a long time for the volume to rise high enough for the orderlies to hear and come rushing into the room. By then, it was too late. He had shown me his magic.

The final pieces of the puzzle fell together, even as my own world shattered.

Chapter 22

I knew I needed to sleep. I knew my friends were expecting me home that evening and would be worried when I didn’t turn up. I knew that what I was about to do went to at least eleven on the stupidity meter. It didn’t matter. When my car hit the interstate and I was supposed to turn south, I went the other direction.

I arrived mid-afternoon. My home looked no different than it had three weeks earlier, and the knowledge that one thing in my life hadn’t changed was more comfort than any well-intentioned words my friends could have offered. I locked the front door behind me and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I took off my shoes and jeans, then slipped between the jersey sheets, sighing at the welcome one can only find in their own bed after a long time away.

During the drive home, I’d kept the panic at bay by refusing to consider what Trent had shown me. I stared fixedly at the road and sang loudly along with the radio, not letting my brain wander beyond the confines of the car. My only thought had been of home, of the front porch with its crooked supports, the wooden bench, and the solitude. I held the image of my home in my mind, a visual mantra. It became my prayer for the last hundred miles, the only thing I was asking for in this world. Peace. Control. Home. Because if what he’d demonstrated meant what I feared it did, those things were crumbling away from me.

Maybe his magic had nothing to do with me. Maybe his and Brian’s madness was just an unlikely coincidence. Maybe my problems were completely separate from what had scarred them both. I told myself that, and didn’t believe it. The moment I had seen Trent hold out first one hand, then the other, and call his magic, I knew the truth about who I was with a sharp, brittle clarity.

I felt the horror creeping relentlessly toward me and curled into a tight ball. “No,” I whispered. “No.” Thick tears fell in rivers down my cheeks, and still I refused to think about what I had seen. I insisted that my stubbornness work for me this time, and in the battle between panic and exhaustion, exhaustion finally triumphed. I was dragged toward the sweet oblivion of sleep, and I happily surrendered.

Night had descended by the time I awoke, and the room was shrouded in shadow. Outside my window, I heard the typical nighttime sounds of a country spring. Crickets sang, with the occasional frog providing bass accompaniment. The long grass rustled. I reached my magic beyond the house, feeling for the small pond, bloated from the winter’s rains. I sent the water rippling, a brief hello, and withdrew. Everything seemed safe and quiet, and there was no reason for my absolute certainty that I was no longer alone.

I slid quietly out of bed and pulled on my jeans. Every movement seemed to echo loudly in my ears. I sidestepped down the hallway, back tight to the wall, and crept slowly down the stairs, avoiding all the squeaky steps. I knew every floorboard and beam in this house, and no one could sneak around it better than I, but it didn’t really matter. Halfway down the stairs, it became clear that whoever was in my kitchen was making no attempt to disguise his presence. He seemed to know I’d been expecting him.

I padded down the hallway in my stocking feet. As I approached the kitchen, I was hit by waves of scent that made me gag. It was a smell that made most humans and carnivores salivate, but not one I ever expected to find in my kitchen. I peered around the corner, seeing a man’s back standing by the stove, tending a pan of sizzling bacon.

“I know you’re there, Aidan,” Brian’s voice was the mild, easygoing tone I knew so well. “Have a seat. I’m making breakfast. Or dinner. Definitely one or the other. I figured you’d be hungry after sleeping so long.”

I’d made no plan beyond luring Brian to me and away from the others, and for the first time it occurred to me that formulating my plan while shocked and sleep deprived might have been a poor choice. As much as I needed the certainty he could provide, it didn’t change the fact that I was now alone with an unstable murderer. Brian stood between me and the kitchen door, but the front door was still an option if I wanted to run. I knew I was faster than he was, but I was also on my own, with erratic control and an unpredictable opponent who understood his powers far better than I did. I crossed to the kitchen table and sat.

“Good, good. I really don’t want to fight with you, Aidan. I’m only here to talk, to have that conversation we were going to have the other night.” He made no mention of the reason we’d been interrupted. To hear him tell it, he’d needed to take a phone call, rather than attempt to murder my best friend. “But you came here, didn’t you? Alone. You wanted me to find you.”

He was pleased by the thought that I wanted to see him. That was good. As much as I wanted to scream at him, to pummel him with my fists until he was bloody and begging for mercy, I knew I’d never get information that way. He needed to believe I chose to be here. My acting skills being what they were, I was counting on his capacity for self-delusion.

Glancing at the wall clock, I quickly calculated how much time had passed. It was nearly midnight, and Sera would be expecting me back by now. Even if she figured out where I’d gone and left Tahoe immediately, she would not be here until morning. I had hours to convince Brian to share his knowledge.

I forced myself to look at him, to see the friend I’d loved for years in addition to the monster that lurked inside him. “You said we needed to talk. I want to hear what you have to say.”

He crossed to the table, iron skillet in hand, and lifted scrambled eggs and bacon onto my plate. I felt the bile rise as the smell hit my nose anew, but succeeded in keeping my face impassive.

“You know I don’t really eat meat.” I spoke quietly and without judgment. This was not the time to rile up the crazy, no matter how much rage boiled just beneath the skin, waiting for release. The scent wafting from my plate reminded me how far I was from the Brian I thought I knew, even as he behaved exactly like my old friend.

He gave me a look of mock exasperation. “You also didn’t eat bok choy until I cooked it for you. Give it a try.” He rummaged through the cupboards. “Look, I understand wanting to live away from people, but no highballs? That is uncivilized.” The contents of the freezer did not improve his opinion of my housekeeping. “And no vodka? It’s like I barely knew you.”

It was surreal to watch him putter around my kitchen. He was so confident of our continuing bond and friendship. He gave no indication he’d ever attacked me or Sera.

“There’s some bourbon above the fridge.” I pushed my food around the plate, trying to hide the bacon.

With a triumphant shout, he grabbed the bottle and brought it to the table, two chipped mugs in his other hand. He poured healthy slugs into each cup, then held his hand over mine, waiting for my confirmation. Mutely, I shook my head. Normally, I would want ice, but right then I didn’t want even the smallest contact with Brian’s magic. If things went the way I needed them to go, I’d be seeing it soon enough.

He shrugged and forged several cubes for his own drink. No longer restrained by his desire to appear less powerful, he formed perfect shards of ice, toothpick thin and remarkably delicate. The last piece was longer and sturdier, a sharpened spear. With this, he stabbed a piece of bacon, bringing it to his mouth. He waited expectantly for me to do the same.

I took a small bite of eggs. Because it had never been conscious, I had no strong reaction to it, other than my typical dislike of eggs. The bacon was another matter. The moment it touched my lips, I saw the pig’s life in short bursts. An open pen, litter mates, warm mud, plentiful food. It had been a nice life, until the end. Memories of blood and weakness assaulted my mind, and I felt fear consume me before being rapidly extinguished, leaving me with nothing but a painful sense of nothing where once there had been a life.

Although I needed to keep my mind sharp around Brian, I grabbed the mug and took a long gulp, swirling the bourbon around my mouth as if I could remove the memory along with the taste.

Brian shrugged, unbothered. “It was worth a try. It does get easier. After a while, you even learn to appreciate their lives and their deaths. After all, they died so that you can thrive. There are few acts so noble.”

I wasn’t certain that we were still talking about the pig. I pushed the plate away and brought the mug to my lips again, this time faking a small sip, trying to buy myself some time. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Have you really not guessed?”

I did my best to think innocent thoughts. Kittens. Rainbows. Rainbow kittens. Anything to keep him from seeing that I’d already guessed his secret. Based on everything he’d said to me before, at the cabin and even a decade ago in the warehouse, he wanted to believe his knowledge would astound me and open a wondrous new world. If he knew that I lived in dread of what he was about to tell me, it would steal his thunder… and likely his plans for our glorious lives together as psychotic elemental killing machines. If ever there was a time for me to pull off an inscrutable face, this was it.

“Tell me,” I said.

He stood and held out his hand to me. I took it and felt his fingers clamp around my own, the hold one of possession rather than assistance. He led me to the front porch, to the very spot where Sera first found me. It was a clear night, the sky dotted with endless stars. “Still no air elementals,” I murmured, deliberately evoking the last time just the two of us had been together, easy friends. Keep him relaxed, keep him trusting. Let him never guess at the fury that paced within me, awaiting its turn.

Brian followed my gaze. “A shame, isn’t it? Just imagine the world they could be a part of.” He shrugged off the wistfulness that had crept into his voice. “Have a seat, my lady,” he said, grandly indicating the bench.

I obeyed, wondering how he would reveal himself. It was important to him that I know what he was, and that I react positively to the revelation. I expected him to savor the telling.

The moment he felt my attention fix on him, he used his right hand to draw ice from the air, shaping one rose after another until he had a dozen glimmering flowers. The entire process took minutes. He sent the flowers gently my way with a gallant bow. I knew that refusal was not an option and so gathered the gift to me, ignoring the chill that coated my hand.

“But you need something to hold the flowers, don’t you?”

His left hand moved in a steady, powerful motion, sweeping through the air. A moment later, I heard the rumble. Even though I had been prepared for it, had expected this ever since Trent had shown me his power, I did not have to fake the shock that crossed my face. What I saw went against everything I had ever known.

And Brian was more powerful than I had ever anticipated. Unlike Trent, whose magic use was limited by his situation, Brian clearly practiced.

Slowly, steadily, the earth moved in graceful waves. It pulsed its way toward me, flowing easily toward the porch and winding its way slowly up the steps. It stopped by the bench, and a section of the earth rose slowly, forming itself into a tall, narrow vase, the perfect receptacle for the roses. The effort to hold that much dry earth in place should have been tremendous, even for a half earth. Brian was grinning, showing no sign of any stress.

I stared at him, trying to find any words that would satisfy him. He seemed to think my silence eloquent enough, my shock everything he had hoped for. “Aidan Brook, I do believe the old ones neglected to tell us something. It turns out my father gave me something a bit more interesting than a pocket watch, after all.”

I pointed at the vase. “That’s…”

“It is indeed.”

“And you are…”

“Something of an anomaly? It would appear so.”

“And you are telling me this because…?”

The darkness crossed his face, there and gone in a second, but now that I knew to look for it, the frustration was obvious. He still wanted more from me, and I had no idea how much further his patience would stretch. “Because you need to know. You need to understand.”

I’d confirmed my suspicions, and though I’d expected no less, I was still disappointed that Brian hadn’t simply been a really crazy ice. This was all too complicated. I needed time. Preferably, time spent on a deserted beach with an inexhaustible supply of rum, but I would settle for time away from Brian. My car was mere feet away, the keys still in the ignition where I’d left them. “Show me again.”

He grinned, and this time manipulated the ice and earth simultaneously, showing off. I waited for the moment his attention was wholly on the power, and I ordered the pond to ensnare him. There was no water in this world I knew more intimately. Every molecule, every bit of life it held, I had played with over the years. It responded instantly, swarming Brian, wrapping around him in a blinding sheet. If he froze it, he would only trap himself.

I was sprinting for the car before his first cry of anger. I launched myself into the driver’s seat, fumbling for the keys and thinking three steps ahead to the safest route I could take back to Tahoe.

The keys were not there.

It was miles to the nearest house, but I was instantly outside the car and sprinting down the drive, aiming for a copse of trees near the road that could provide cover. I never made it. A foot of earth rose before me. I attempted to hurdle it, but it rose with me, catching me around the waist and pulling me to the ground, winded and gasping.

I heard feet approaching, making an unexpected squelching sound with each step. Where Brian had stood, there was now a mud pit. The earth had swallowed all the water I’d used to trap him. His clothing was covered in long streaks of mud, his face marked and savage. With each step, he drew the earth away from his body, separating the mud into its distinct parts and freeing himself to take powerful, quick strides to me. I scrambled backwards desperately, even as I knew there was no escape.

He crouched down before me, eyes even with my own. “Will you just stop running, already? You aren’t supposed to run. You are the one person who is supposed to understand, Aidan. You know me.”

Staring into the deranged face pleading with me to see him clearly, I was quite certain I’d never met this stranger who’d been lurking inside Brian for years. I froze, prey caught in a reptile’s eyes, and waited for him to strike.