Elemental Hunger (2 page)

“Let’s go.” When I tried to step past Jarvis, he put his hand on my elbow. Not in a grab. Not a clutch.

Just a touch, with a hint of heat even I could feel.

“Gabby, I—”

The darkness prevented me from truly seeing his expression. But it didn’t matter. I heard the sorrow between the syllables. So much had already been said. I couldn’t rehash it again. He didn’t want to hear it anyway.

I clung to the hope that he’d pick me for his Council. The possibility seemed unreachable, yet painfully within my grasp at the same time.

So I reached out and tied his necktie, adjusting it under his collar and fiddling needlessly with the buttons on his shirt. Something strange clogged my throat. I ground it away and said, “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

I entered the chamber first, Jarvis’s silence trailing behind me like an unwelcome friend.

I sat alone, brooding over the forthcoming loss of my best friend. Jarvis scanned the crowd, unable or unwilling to let his gaze settle on me.

The chamber chattered with voices, bounced with laughter. I smoothed my hair again, very aware that I was the most underdressed for this event.

The Watermaiden row consisted of girls of the drop-dead gorgeous variety with their hair all tea tree’ed up, satin dresses, and minty white teeth. I couldn’t compete with them, and I didn’t want to.

My feet itched to be outside, to be running through the forest with nothing but wind and silence as companions. With Jarvis at my side, as we’d done so many times before.

But we might never do that again. See, he and his newly-selected Council would be too busy for anyone or anything but learning about the powers they each possessed, and how those had been enhanced through the chartering. In four months, they’d travel south to Tarpulin—the capital city of the United Territories—for diplomacy training. Four measly months, and he’d leave me the same way Cat and Isaiah had.

Would Jarvis write?
I had thought Cat would, but no. I hadn’t heard from her or Isaiah in a very long time. I definitely wouldn’t get a letter from Jarvis.

Unless he picks you as his Unmanifested.

My pulse quickened at the thought. The exquisitely tuxedoed guys in the Earthmover and Airmaster rows joked as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They probably didn’t. If they didn’t get chosen tonight, there was always next term, another selection ceremony. And if they never got chosen, they were still treated as royalty. They’d join the training center staff and groom future Earthmovers and Airmasters.

I swallowed hard. If I didn’t get chosen tonight, I would return to my confined life of
say this, don’t say that, do this, don’t do that, serve him, move faster, fetch more wood, get out of the way.

I’d felt this level of nervousness at several of the previous selection ceremonies. I’d seen the desperate Unmanifested candidates go unnoticed in ceremony after ceremony. I’d heard their muffled sobs no matter how they tried to hide them. With every ceremony where I got passed over, my anxiety grew and pulsed upward, choking me.

After each ceremony, my friend Cat had waited for me in my dorm. She’d comfort me and braid my hair, weaving magical stories of the Council I’d be a part of with the threads of hair.

She’d taught me a few tricks to get my hair to ripple smoothly down my back. “Gabby, honey, put tea tree oil in your bathwater,” she’d always said. With a friend like Cat, I never wanted for a hot, scented bath after a hard night in the kitchens.

Her heart belonged to Isaiah, but I liked to think she’d carved a place for me too. Even with her Elemental status, she never looked down at me, never sought friends with more power or rank.

“You’ll have to learn to read,” she said a few weeks before she left for diplomacy training. “Because I’m going to write to you every day.”

I’d stood behind her, brushing out her hair into ribbons of black silk. “You won’t have time to write every day,” I said, but inside I was secretly pleased. Maybe she’d miss me as much as I was going to miss her. I wasn’t sure how I’d endure the selection ceremonies without her to help me afterward. I hadn’t coped well, that much I knew.

“Every chance I get,” she’d insisted. “Promise me you’ll learn to read.” She turned, and I found an odd sense of urgency in her face.

“As soon as I get the approval,” I said.

Her full lips curved up, and she stood. “Your turn.”

I took her place in the chair and let her comb through my hair. She hadn’t done four strokes before she said, “Gabby, honey, I have an oil you should try,” just like she always did.

I wrenched my thoughts away from Cat. I hadn’t received a single letter in the year since she’d left for Tarpulin and her Council training. I swallowed back my disappointment, still lost in my memories of the numerous selection ceremonies I’d witnessed.

I’d seen one Unmanifested break down, first crying and then screaming for another chance. She’d worked on the grounds crew, and I used to see her on the way to my first class every day.

After that ceremony—her last chance—I never saw her again. Her section of the south quadrant was reassigned to an Unmanifested boy who’d never been selected either. He wore the green tunic of a groundskeeper, keeping the sidewalks clear of snow in the winter and hedging the bushes in the summer.

He seemed fine with his assignment. He didn’t seem caged, like if he didn’t get beyond these walls he’d combust. Of course, he never looked anyone in the eye, the way I’d been trained to avert my gaze as I served the Elementals in the mess hall. So maybe the groundskeeper did feel trapped, enclosed by the towering bushes and walls of snow that edged his life.

Sometimes my fingers twitched and my feet bounced, all in anticipation of getting outside the gates and running free. With a Council position, I could feel that freedom. I could find a place in this world, I could belong without worrying that one wrong step would lead to my disappearance.

I ran through the unsettling thoughts of vanishing in the night, never to be seen in the kitchens again. Would the person who tended the fires next to me notice my absence? Would she mourn my loss, wondering where I’d gone and what had become of me?

No one knew exactly where those who disappeared went, but I’d heard rumors. Stories that included mass graves, or worse, exile. Without the protection of a city or a Councilman, survival was rare. I didn’t know how many more cities existed beyond the forests of Crylon, but I understood that an isolated life on the endless plains could kill me. Children in Crylon were taught that lesson first.

I couldn’t even leave the school grounds without repercussions. The gate kept us contained, away from the citizens the forest hedged in.

I shoved thoughts of exile and death to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the small crowd that had gathered in the Unmanifested section for tonight’s ceremony. Only a handful of girls had shown up—including me—for the last and lowest Council position. My best girl friend, Elizabeth Nox, slid into the seat next to me. I didn’t think it possible to be any later than me, but Liz worked the late shift in the Laundromat. Maybe it had been a rough night, getting the Council robes ready for the ceremony and pressing so many seams into straight, neat rows.

“Gabby,” she said, out of breath and straightening her shirt. “Your hair looks great.”

“Thanks, so does yours,” I muttered, still trying to pin Jarvis with my gaze. He wouldn’t look at me. A minute later, the ceremony started.

The senior Firemakers chose in turns.
I should be up there.
The thought came unbidden, yet coated my throat with sourness. I coughed to clear it away as the Airmasters stood.

I didn’t know Jarvis’s choice for Airmaster, and I squirmed in my seat, wishing time would move already. He predictably chose his best male friend for his Earthmover. A smile slipped across my lips. I could see myself working with the crew Jarvis was slowly assembling.

Something pricked at my gut. Something that hurt. Something like losing more than a best friend. More like losing an opportunity I should have been guaranteed.

A girl from Cat’s old dorm became his Watermaiden. Her hair hung in glorious ringlets of gold down to her waist. My hair, about two shades darker and a million times less curly, would never compare.

But it didn’t matter. The Unmanifested round had started.

My name wasn’t uttered by the first Firemaker. Or the second. Or the third. Tension settled across my shoulders. Jarvis still wouldn’t look at me. He knew how much I wanted to be on a Council. To feel that bond, that camaraderie. We’d talked about it so many times. He’d told me I’d make a good Educator. I said he’d make an excellent Councilman. My meaning was clear. I wanted to serve as his Unmanifested Councilmember.

His silence had made his meaning clear. I felt it deep inside. Still, I hoped. Jarvis was my best friend. Surely he’d pick me.

On his turn, his gaze finally settled into mine. We breathed in together; exhaled. Fire smoked under my skin. He didn’t look away as he said, “Elizabeth Nox,” in a strong, sure voice.

Her name, and not mine, sounded like betrayal.

The wind welcomed me to the forest. It danced through the treetops, almost producing a tinkling sound to accompany the pounding of my feet.

Pain and loss and hurt and rage seeped, seeped into every step. The darkness inked the horizon, the glowing lights of the school a mere memory now.

Leaving campus was against the rules, but I didn’t care. As soon as Jarvis had said her name—not mine,
hers
—I’d fled. I didn’t stop at my dorm for my running shoes, for my brown hooded sweatshirt, for anything.

Maybe if I ran fast enough, I could escape the awful sound of her name—hers, not mine—echoing in the chamber, echoing in my head.

Steam rose from my skin, my blood boiled, and before I could contain it, fire dripped from my fingers the same way the tears slid from my eyes.

I couldn’t outrun that part of myself.

But I wanted to. Holy hot blazes, I wanted to.

See, girl + Firemaker = genetic freak = a secret that could kill me if it wasn’t kept.

“Gabby, you’re on
service tonight.”

Cold dread filled my stomach with the cook’s words. Service meant face-to-face contact with Councilmembers. Possibly with Jarvis—and now Liz.

I’d managed to avoid service duties for the past three months. I just couldn’t face my former friends. Not here, not in the dorms. Not ever would be fine by me.

I made my eyes glaze over as I gathered plates, bumped through the door, and served the Elementals in the dining chamber.
Gather, bump, serve. Gather, bump, serve.

Colored silks blended together. Blue, violet, orange, white, black. No yellow. Thank the sparks.

“Table twelve,” the cook said, dishing up my last service for the evening.
Gather, bump—

The Councilmembers sitting at table twelve all wore yellow.

“Hi, Gabby,” Liz bubbled at me as I placed her food in front of her. Warring emotions battled inside. Guilt because of my resentment of her appointment. I should’ve been happy for her. Her life had improved dramatically over the past few months.