Elemental Hunger Page 8

  In…and out. Again, and then again. See, breathing proved I was still alive.

  Felix crouched and touched the dirt, smelled it, and rubbed his fingers together. Apparently satisfied, he leaned against a tree trunk, maybe fifteen feet from me.

  My muscles jumped, my skin itched, but I stood stone-still, my eyes never leaving Felix.

  He looked a lot like Adam—blue eyes with sandy hair. Felix wore his super-short, like mine was now. His face didn’t hold the innocence Adam’s did, and Felix’s jaw was more defined. His nose didn’t look aligned, like maybe it’d been broken and not quite healed properly.

  He coughed again, but it did little to decrease his menacing demeanor. The black uniform didn’t help either.

  The undergrowth rustled as Patches approached Felix. “Nothing. The Outcasts haven’t seen anyone in days. Certainly not anyone in the past half hour.” He sank next to Felix, and I felt his weariness. He looked like my old friend when he wasn’t hunting me.

  “Did you—?”

  “I did all you would have done. I am a sentry too.” Patches’s voice sounded hard, laced with warning.

  “Well, they can’t simply disappear.”

  I swallowed the gasp as it tried to escape. The cloaks….

  I had disappeared.

  Which meant Adam stood right here somewhere. Surprise mingled with relief that he hadn’t abandoned me. My legs felt spongy, my hands trembled, and hot tears sprang to my eyes.

  “…Supremist Pederson can’t do that.” Patches’s words snapped me out of my near-blubbering.

  “You don’t know what Alex can do,” Felix growled. They lapsed into a silence only broken by Felix’s intermittent coughing.

  My chest could barely rise and fall. How long would they remain here?

  “Will we find them?” Patches asked, his face reminding me of the newly-marked sentry I’d known in Crylon.

  “As soon as her prints are uploaded into the system, which should be by this afternoon. Don’t worry, we won’t fail. Are you sure Gabriella set the fire?”

  I tensed and pushed back the rising flames. With my dying breath, I would deny setting that fire.

  “Of course she didn’t.” Patches glanced at Felix. “You did.”

  Felix held his gaze without emotion. “No, I didn’t.”

  Patches frowned. “Well, if you didn’t…and Gabby—”

  “Gabriella. She’s not your friend anymore. Don’t get attached.”

  “I’m not attached. If you didn’t and Gabriella didn’t…who did?”

  Both sentries looked up into the brightening sky, for once their faces showing some emotion. Patches broadcasted terror, while Felix looked thoughtful. Just as I was starting to feel bad for them, Felix stood up.

  “Let’s go. If they didn’t join the Outcasts, Adam’ll head south. They can get lost in a city the size of Gregorio, and there are a half dozen Unmanifested villages between here and there. Alex desires that freak of a fire girl, and the Elemental Council in Gregorio is encouraging open rebellion.” He brushed his hands on his pants and walked within five feet of where I stood.

  Patches followed and a minute later, the hovercraft whirred to life. Even after the sound faded into silence, I remained still.

  “Gabby?” Barely a whisper, Adam’s voice came from my left.

  He lowered his hood, his head appearing out of nothing as his mysterious cloak concealed the rest of his body. “Gabby?” He glanced from left to right, concern etched in the lines in his forehead.

  “You could have warned me,” I said, lowering my own hood.

  His face broke into a grin. “I told you to hold still.”

  I fingered the material of my cloak. “What is this stuff?” It felt silky, yet thick like canvas. Light over my shoulders, but warm and comforting.

  He moved toward me. I still couldn’t see his body, but a disturbance in the landscape—like a ripple on water—indicated his movement.

  “Outcast weaving. I think it’s wool.”

  He thought wrong. Wool felt heavy and scratchy—the exact opposite of the cloak. But I didn’t correct him.

  “Chief Tavar leaves them out for those who know how to find them,” he said, adjusting his cloak and moving too close for me to be comfortable.

  “So you’ve been here before.” I wasn’t asking. I side-stepped away from him. The memory of him pinning my arms to my sides felt too fresh. And he’d abandoned me three times now—at least I thought he had.

  “You’ll love the Outcasts.”

  “Who are the Outcasts?”

  He smiled again. “Only my favorite people. Society has deemed them insane, but they’re just Spirit-speakers.”

  I laughed at Adam, truly surprised. “Spirit-speakers? You’re joking, right?”

  He wasn’t. He reached out, his hand appearing as it emerged from the sleeve. “Pull your hood back on and hold my hand. You can see for yourself.”

  I thought he might be the one who was insane. First, if he believed Spirit-speakers really existed. Second, if he thought I would hold his hand just because he told me to…. I glared at him.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. Just so we don’t lose each other.” His hand hovered in the air, and I looked at it, then back to him.

  “O-kay.”

  He laughed as he covered his head again. I pulled on my hood and took his hand. He adjusted the sleeves so they covered our hands, and it was freaky to watch my own flesh disappear. He tugged in the direction he wanted to go.

  I followed, stepping carefully over fallen logs, patches of muddy snow, and piles of rotting leaves.

  “I’ve never met a girl as quiet as you,” Adam whispered. “Most of them never shut up.” I couldn’t tell if he thought my silence was a good thing or not. I kept my mouth shut and dug my fingernails through his glove and into the back of his hand.

  “Ow! I meant it as a compliment. Jeesh.” He stopped walking, and I felt the weight of his eyes. I stared at the spot where I thought he might be. I still didn’t speak.

  He squeezed my hand and pulled me forward again. I thought I heard him apologize, but I wasn’t sure.

  See, I already knew I was different. Regular Elemental girls Manifested as Watermaidens—like Cat. And she was so opposite of me. My voice scratched on the way out, I’d never owned a dress, and curves avoided my body at all costs.

  She spent time outside in the fresh air. She was pampered when she wasn’t infusing bath water with jasmine or strolling through the fields imparting life-giving water to crops. And yet I loved her.

  Wrapped up in my thoughts about my lost friendship, I didn’t realize Adam had stopped until he dropped my hand.

  I looked up, inhaled the smoke, and tried to locate the fire. I couldn’t—and that scared me.

  “What do you see?” His question sounded like a dare.

  I wished I could see something that would erase the mocking from his voice. But I only saw the same trees and leaves and rocks—and the smoke.

  Felix had said Firemakers could control smoke. My heart sped up. Could there be another Firemaker here?

  Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes. The smoke came from a hard wood, maybe alder. I didn’t know how I knew that, but it was true.

  Adam shifted next to me, his hand finding mine again and squeezing. “Um, Gabe?”

  “Hmm?” I didn’t open my eyes because the smoke painted my senses with rich lather. My head swam with the sweet scent.

  The pressure on my hand increased until I thought he’d squeeze it off. I finally opened my eyes. Adam had lowered his hood, his quiet amusement gone.

  “What?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head toward something in front of him. A wall of smoke hovered in front of me, obscuring the landscape behind it. Pearly and gray, it wafted into the treetops, held back by an invisible barrier.

  “What did you do?” Adam hissed.

  I moved forward and stretched out my hand. I could almost feel the energy keeping the
smoke from me. I ached to feel it brush my skin, to breathe it into my lungs.

  “Don’t,” Adam whispered, coming up beside me. “We haven’t been invited yet.”

  I swept my hand across my body, and the smoke screen slid to the right.

  Three men stood there, their skin dark. Their golden eyes were rimmed in a darker brown that matched their hair. They looked identical, down to their stance with feet shoulder-width apart and arms folded. They wore breeches, but no shoes or shirts. Living outside obviously required effort, because these guys had more muscles in their arms than I possessed in my whole body.

  I looked away, embarrassed by their nakedness. Adam was now kneeling, his head bowed. I quickly copied him, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Chief Tavar. We come seeking refuge among the Outcasts.” Adam spoke in a deeper voice. One with more authority, more years behind it.

  “Mr. Gillman, you may enter,” one of the men said, his voice grating as though he didn’t use it much. “Who is he?”

  I didn’t look up, thinking it best not to offend the Chief.

  “My Firemaker, Gabe Kilpatrick. I only go where he goes. The sentry who visited earlier is searching for him. Gabe is accused of a crime he didn’t commit. We need safety, beds, food. We have nothing to offer in return.”

  A long pause followed, during which I studied the forest floor to avoid eye contact.

  “The same arrangement between us exists,” the Chief said. “If your Firemaker agrees to the terms, he may also enter.”

  Adam stood, and I joined him. I wanted to cower behind him, or hold his hand, but I thought both of those options would be unfitting for a guy. Not to mention a Firemaker. So I stood next to him, exchanging a nervous glance before looking back at the Chief.

  “We bring no ill feelings into the settlement,” the Chief said. “We are loyal to each other. I help you with what I can; you provide whatever you can for us. We show respect and kindness while we co-exist on this earth together.” His voice lulled me into a safe place, and I blinked to maintain my attention.

  “Can you agree to do these things?” the Chief asked.

  “Yes,” I managed to force through my lips.

  “Then you Elementals may enter.”

  We moved through the barrier, and a tingle slithered over my body. Maybe Adam was right about these people being Spirit-speakers, but I vowed never to admit it out loud. See, Spirit-speakers were supposed to be a magical race, loving the earth and her resources, and using their religious beliefs to separate themselves from regular society. They’d become outcasts, deemed insane and dangerous by the Supremist, and I’d been warned against associating with them.

  “You found the cloaks,” the Chief said, his voice more playful. I glanced at him, trying to make the image of him match up with what I’d been told about Spirit-speakers. His serious expression didn’t look particularly crazy or dangerous.

  “Yes, my memory served me well. As did the cloaks. We barely had them on before the sentries arrived.” Adam spoke to the Chief like they were old friends.

  I reminded myself that I barely knew Adam, that I couldn’t trust him, that he’d never given me a straight answer, that sharing sleeping quarters with him would be wrong. Besides, I didn’t want him so close to me. The guy didn’t seem to understand personal boundaries.

  “…right, Gabe?”

  I looked up at my new name. Somehow Chief Tavar had maneuvered between me and Adam. He watched me without blinking. He looked even more terrifying close up. I’d never seen skin so dark or hair so long—at least not on a man.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you’re going to need an Unmanifested on your Council. Or do you already have someone in mind?”

  I forced myself to look at the Chief’s eyes, swallowing my fear. “Um, no, I don’t have anyone in mind. See, Adam and me…. Well, I mean, we’re not really a Council, we’re just—”

  “Yes, we are,” Adam interrupted. “We just got separated from the others in Gregorio.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. His words sounded so natural, so easy. He didn’t give away the lie on his face either. My doubts about him resurfaced. If he could look and sound so convincing while lying, how would I know when he was telling me the truth?

  Chief Tavar looked at Adam and then to me. I forced a laugh that sounded, well, forced. “Yeah, separated. We do need an Unmanifested, though.”

  The Chief smiled. “I might have someone for you. A boy—almost a man—fifteen years of age. He has not Manifested any gifts.”

  “Gifts?” I asked.

  “Of the spirit,” the Chief replied. “He’s been talking of leaving the settlement. This might be a perfect arrangement.”

  I glanced at Adam again, but he didn’t look at me. See, I doubted a “perfect arrangement” existed.

  I knew I was right when we entered the village amidst a chorus of silence.

  Men, women, and children with skin just as dark as the Chief’s cowered in tent flaps. They watched me pass with wide, golden eyes. Whispers reached my ears, but I couldn’t understand the language.

  “Here he is. Mr. Kilpatrick—my son, Hanai ‘Silent Soul’ Tavar. He is Unmanifested, and seeking a place on your Council.”

  A guy stood in the doorway of the only permanent structure—a well-built log cabin. More the color of molasses than honey, his eyes searched me from head to toe.

  I likewise sized him up. Already taller than me, he was also twice as wide. He wore a cream-colored shirt with leather breeches. His long, dark hair had been pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He didn’t have shoes, but he stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, like guys do. I shifted my feet, which had been touching.

  Hanai dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Father. My Firemaker.”

  I deliberately didn’t look at Adam so I wouldn’t appear like I knew nothing.

  “Nice to see you, Hanai,” Adam said, saving me from what would’ve been an embarrassing exchange.

  “Adam,” Hanai said, rising with a grin. He clapped Adam on the back in a one-armed embrace. “You weren’t lying. I guess I was wrong.” He kept his gaze on me.

  I smiled and stepped forward too. “Hey, man.” It sounded so, so fake. “I’m Gabe.”

  Hanai’s smile remained in place, extending into his eyes. “You took our smoke. That was so Manifested. My dad nearly choked.”

  I found myself at a loss for words, so I kept the smile cemented in place and shrugged with only my right shoulder. I’d seen Jarvis do that—very masculine.

  “So…now what? Baths? You two stink,” Hanai said.

  My heart thumped in an uneven pattern as I caught Adam’s eye. He shook his head just as Hanai looked at him. Then his face broke into an instant grin. “Yeah, sure, baths. But let’s have Gabe go first. Maybe he can heat that iceberg you call a pool.” He slapped Hanai on the shoulder.

  “Good idea. I haven’t had a warm bath in six months.” Hanai ducked back into the cabin, leaving me alone with Adam.

  “Heat the pool? Can I do that?” I asked without moving my lips.

  “’Course, man. Didn’t you see what you did with that smoke? You could probably turn their pool into a hot spring.”

  “What? What did I—?”

  “Here’s some soap. A towel.” Hanai shoved some stuff into my hands. “Follow me, I’ll show you where the pool is.”

  I held Adam’s gaze for a moment before following him into the trees. Thankfully, Hanai led me away from the main village, away from the fire, away from everything. With each step, my anxiety grew. Hanai didn’t seem stupid, and he’d notice certain things at the pool that would blow my cover.

  After ten minutes, Hanai stopped. He pointed down a faint trail. “Down there, a couple hundred feet. You can wash the clothes you’re wearing and change into your dry ones.” He looked at me, then Adam. “Do you have dry clothes?”

  “Adam has some,” I said. “I’ve got some tops—um, shirts—bu
t no jeans.”

  “I can find you something,” Hanai said. “You look about the size—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. “They’re not that dirty.” When I looked at my pants, I cringed. Not only were they crusted with mud, bloodstains trailed down one leg.

  “You’ll need shoes too,” Hanai said. “I can’t wait to hear the story of how you lost that one.” He grinned at my bare right foot, and then at me. “C’mon, Adam. We’ll be back in a couple of minutes, Gabe.” He walked off, Adam right behind him.

  I watched them go, my mind racing. Twenty minutes. Ten there, ten back. I had no clean pants. Panic welled up, almost covering my fire.

  A breeze washed over my face. “Just go, I’ll help you,” it whispered, sounding very much like Adam.

  I took a deep breath and turned toward the trail. Steps had been cut into the slope, reinforced with branches and rocks. At the foot of the staircase lay a pool of clear water. Brown and white stones littered the bottom, and a slight ripple disturbed the surface.

  I plunged both hands into the pool, meeting liquid ice. My breath came in ragged gasps as I f-f-forced fire into the water.

  A mist arose as the hot water steamed in the frigid March air. Perfect cover. I undressed quickly, tossing my clothes into the pool. The hot water unknotted my muscles and screamed through my injured feet. After a moment, they settled into the heat as the steam cleared my head. I only allowed myself a short minute of relief. Then I scrubbed my skin and clothes with soap. It smelled faintly of pine needles and ashes—a soft, soothing scent. I wrung out my clothes, heated some rocks and laid my clothes on them to dry. Just as I was rinsing my hair, Adam’s loud voice drifted down the staircase.

  “…take them down. Gabe sort of has a temper…don’t want to interrupt. You stay here.”

  A small smile curved my mouth. His last three words sounded like a command. My smile vanished as I remembered how clear the water was. And the fog had dissipated into the chilly air.

  “Wait!” I cried out. The scuffling of Adam’s steps stopped.

  “Gabe?” Hanai called.

  I groaned inwardly. “I’m fine,” I called back. “Just need another a minute. Adam,” I added as an afterthought.