Elemental Love (4 page)

He strolled along the lane to his grandmother’s place, Hornbeam Cottage, his feet crunching in the fallen leaves. As a child he had loved to gather piles of leaves in the woods near his home in the Highlands and jump in them. He and his sisters had spent many happy autumn days doing just that, then gathering shiny conkers. He used to soak his in vinegar to harden them. Threaded on old shoelaces, they became effective weapons and he’d suffered many a bruised knuckle at school in drawn-out conker tournaments.

He whistled as he walked. The breeze whipped the leaves into eddies around his ankles. Evrain glanced at the sky through the trees, wondering if the strengthening wind was a sign of rain. He had no coat and didn’t want to get caught in a sudden storm. Where before there had been patches of blue, the sky was now a bruised purple. Evrain hurried along, breaking into a jog. As he reached Agatha’s porch, sure enough the heavens opened. He shoved open the door, which she never locked, avoiding the first heavy drops by seconds.

“What’s with the weather today?” Evrain exclaimed, as his grandmother and godfathers turned toward him from their seats around the fire. “I swear I left Portland in the most glorious sunshine but I seem to have dragged a storm along with me.”

Coryn and Gregory exchanged glances. Agatha rose from her chair and came toward him, holding out her arms.

“Give your old grandma a hug, birthday boy.”

Evrain bent to accept Agatha’s embrace. He kissed the top of her head. She smelled of nutmeg and ginger, the scent familiar and comforting.

“Happy birthday, Evrain.”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

Coryn and Gregory queued to take their turns for hugs.

“Did you enjoy the drive over?” Coryn asked, his eyes twinkling.

“I did. Thank you both, so much. It was a great gift and a brilliant surprise. I could get used to driving around in that.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s just for the day. A special treat.”

Evrain shrugged. “I’ll take it.” He cast his gaze at each of the people he loved. They returned his scrutiny with an intensity that made him feel a little uncomfortable. “What? Do I have a smudge on my nose or something?” He walked over to the fire and peered into the mirror hanging over the mantel. As far as he could tell there were no weird marks or splotches.

“How are you feeling? Any unexplained headaches or nausea recently?” Gregory asked.

“No. My joints are a bit sore but I’m putting that down to a lack of exercise over the last few days. I was going to hike along the river this afternoon and shake off some of the lethargy. I haven’t been sleeping well—I think I’m still getting adjusted to the time zone.” Evrain’s sense of discomfort grew. It wasn’t like Gregory to ask after his health. “Why the sudden interest in whether or not I have the sniffles? Is there a weird hereditary disease in the family that I don’t know about?”

“Why don’t you take a seat by the fire? There’s something we need to talk to you about.”

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Now he was really worried. “I’ve heard about those. I promise I’m not a drunk, I don’t take drugs and I’m not addicted to gambling.” He gave a nervous laugh.

Gregory stood. He placed his hand on Evrain’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s nothing to worry about. In fact, it should make things a whole lot clearer for you. I think it’s time. Agatha?”

“Indeed. The hour doesn’t matter. I geared everything to the date.” She hummed a strange tune under her breath.

“And a very significant date it is.” Gregory guided him to a chair, ignoring Agatha’s weird behavior.

Evrain sat, sinking into the overstuffed cushion. He’d need a cleaver to cut the atmosphere, not just a knife. Or maybe a scythe, that seemed appropriate. Agatha’s gothic mantel clock began to chime. Evrain’s senses sharpened. He could pick out every detail, every thread of the woven hearth rug. A mixture of intense aromas—spices, burning wood, candle wax, even Gregory’s aftershave—assaulted his nose. He wanted to cover his ears there was so much sound—spitting and crackling from the fire, leaves and branches thrashing outside in the wind, breathing, heartbeats. Evrain gasped. It was too much. He gripped the arms of his chair and felt every imperfection in the wood. His head swam.

“What’s… What’s happening?” He squeezed the words from between gritted teeth.

In the hearth, the fire exploded, sending huge flames shooting up the chimney. The storm outside intensified, pounding at the cabin with weapons of hail and wind. Evrain took short, sharp breaths. He sensed movement behind him and swiveled around to see the pot plants on the windowsill sprouting shoots and new leaves at incredible speed, the foliage spilling over countertops and onto the floor. This could not be happening. The pressure in his head built to an intolerable level. He was aware of Gregory’s touch, clasping his hand.

“Let it go, Evrain. Don’t be afraid.” Gregory’s voice, calm and soothing, penetrated his panic.

Evrain willed his body to relax. Multicolored lights exploded before his eyes, then everything went mercifully dark.

* * * *

“Evrain, you’re a warlock.”

“What the hell happened, Grandma? Am I ill? My head feels like a grenade exploded. Inside it.” Evrain massaged his temples and groaned. “Wait. What did you just say?”

“I said, my dear boy, that
you
are a warlock. Now drink this, it will make you feel better. You were out cold for a few minutes there.” She thrust a mug into his trembling hands.

“What is it?” He sniffed the drink with some suspicion.

“Butterbur, chamomile and ginger root tea sweetened with a little honey. My own remedy and better than any chemical you could poison your body with.”

“Does it cure insanity, because I could have sworn that you just told me I’m a warlock?”

“It doesn’t, and you are. Don’t be a child. Drink it.”

“Don’t be a— Gregory! Please tell me I’m hearing things.” He looked to his godfather who stood in front of the fire making strange movements with his fingers.

“Just hold on a minute, Evrain. I need to damp down your conflagration a little.”

“What? Wait… You’re… Oh my God. I’m in an alternate reality, aren’t I?” He addressed his question to Coryn, sitting in the chair next to him. Coryn seemed a bit pale despite the heat. His smile was full of sympathy and understanding.

“It’s true, Evrain. You
are
a warlock and so is Gregory. Your grandma put a suppression spell on your powers shortly after you were born, to protect you. You heard her humming? Well, she was lifting the spell. You have come into your powers. You’re very strong, Evrain. The change was too much for you and you blacked out for a few minutes.” He paused as Gregory came and stood next to him.

“You okay, love?” Gregory asked Coryn, stroking his face.

“Sure.” Coryn lifted his face for a kiss. “He takes some containing, doesn’t he?”

“He does. Evrain, I know this is difficult for you to take in, to understand, but deep down I think you’ve always known that you were different. The elements have always behaved strangely around you, haven’t they? Weird weather, unpredictable flames, thriving plants… You are so strong that your power occasionally leaked through the barrier spell.”

Evrain examined his hands. “I feel strange. Under pressure. I don’t mean stress, I mean literal, physical pressure. Like a saucepan full of boiling water with the lid on too tight. Does that make any sense?”

“You need to release some energy or the headache will return. It’s something you’ll have to do every day if you want to stay healthy. I’m here to teach you how to do it safely. We wouldn’t want half the state disappearing down a chasm in the ground or going up in flames, now, would we?”

“Um, no?”

“No.”

“Wait. Do my parents know about this? Am I the only one who’s been kept in ignorance?”

Gregory took Evrain’s mug and replaced it with a glass of sloe gin, which he chugged back in one go. The liquid burned all the way to his gut.

“Lyssa and James understand that you have certain…gifts. That knowledge has influenced their decisions about your childhood. They don’t need to know anything further—indeed, for their own safety it’s better they don’t.” Gregory rolled his shoulders. “Agatha is, of course, a witch. In your family line there have been many witches over the centuries. You, however, are something of an anomaly. Agatha has a wonderful birthday meal prepared for you. You can ask all the questions you wish about your family history while we eat. Once the sun has gone down, I’ll teach you a method for dispersing your power.”

Evrain looked around for more gin. “I shouldn’t believe a word of this. It’s totally barmy.”

Coryn filled his glass and left the decanter on a side table within Evrain’s reach.

“But you do, don’t you?” Gregory stated. “You know it’s true.”

“Yes. I do.” Evrain sighed. “I am so fucked.”

“Language, Evrain!” Agatha cuffed his head.

“Sorry, Grandma. Will you turn me into a frog for swearing?”

Agatha cuffed him again. “Cheeky boy. It does nobody any good to perpetuate silly myths like that. I don’t own a pointy hat or a wand, nor do I have a familiar. Try to avoid regressing into a plotline from
Harry Potter
.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Evrain rubbed his head.

Gregory sniggered.

“Why don’t we eat?” Coryn said.

“Ever the peacemaker, darling. But that’s a fine idea. Don’t worry, Evrain, there’s no eye of bat or leg of toad on the menu.” Gregory chuckled.

“Shouldn’t that be… Oh, never mind, I can’t believe I’m even thinking about getting into a debate on the subject of potion ingredients.”

“Why don’t we let Coryn and Agatha get everything ready while we go outside and deal with your little problem? I don’t think we can wait until darkness. You might burst and that would be messy.”

“Oh my God, I won’t, will I?” Evrain prodded his flat stomach. There was no sign of inflation.

“You know, if you say gullible really slowly, it sounds like chicken,” Gregory said.

“That’s just mean. Feeling vulnerable here!”

Everybody laughed. Evrain knocked back another sloe gin before he risked getting to his feet and even then he wobbled. Gregory put an arm around his shoulders and led him outside.

The rain still pounded down, beating the earth to mud. Evrain turned his face to the stormy sky and let the drops batter his skin. Some of his tension eased.

“You and I are elemental warlocks, Evrain,” Gregory declared. “That means we have an affinity with air, earth, fire and water. My power is linked most strongly to water, which is one of the reasons I settled in Florida. Plenty of the stuff there and it’s not constantly falling out of the sky like it is here. In time, you’ll discover which element attracts you most. The power is always in you, but it can build, particularly when your emotions are heightened. So every now and again, we need to release the pressure valve. It’s termed ‘venting’. Don’t ask me where that comes from because I’ve no idea, but it fits.”

“Show me, Gregory. I feel like a firework about to go off.” Evrain rolled up his shirtsleeves, craving more cool rain on his overheated skin.

“It’s not difficult. You’re primed and ready, but the first time can take a while. It seems dramatic but holding out your arms helps.” Gregory stood in the open, his arms spread. He turned his hands so that the palms were up, then touched the second and fourth fingers of each hand together at the tip.

“Clear your thoughts, then get an image of release in your mind. I use Old Faithful, but anything will do.” He closed his eyes and seconds later light shot from his fingers into the sky. He gave a happy sigh. “Your turn.”

Evrain mirrored his stance and closed his eyes. He fixed an image in his mind. Heat penetrated the soles of his feet as if he stood on molten lava. The burn spread through his body, fire in his veins. As it reached his fingertips, his head jerked back and he screamed. All the pressure in his body left in a rush, the sensation dropping him to his knees. He opened his eyes, checking his hands for scorch marks, but there were none.

“Did it work, Gregory? I feel much better. Lighter.” He got to his feet.

Gregory was staring off into the distance.

“Gregory?”

Gregory pointed. Evrain followed the direction of Gregory’s finger and gaped.

“Oh.”

“Hmm. That’s one way of putting it. I think you may need to make sure you’re pointing at the sky in future.” Three huge conifers had been reduced to smoking stumps. “What the hell were you thinking of?”

“I couldn’t decide between Mt. St. Helens going up or Vesuvius decimating Pompeii, so I kind of lined them up next to each other in my head and added Krakatoa for luck.”

“Good Lord, boy, you don’t mess about.” Gregory sniggered.

“It felt like my entire body was on fire, but I had no idea…” Evrain stared at the damage he’d done. “What the hell am I?”

Gregory put his arm around Evrain’s shoulders. “Probably the most powerful warlock in a thousand years. Let’s eat.” Gregory guided him toward the house.

Evrain laughed. It was that or cry. “Happy birthday to me. I’d say this day is going to be one of the more memorable in my life so far.”

“Definitely one for the family album,” Gregory said. “I’m sure there will be plenty more to come.”

Evrain looked back over his shoulder at the destruction he’d caused. “Just so long as they don’t include jail time or a stint in the local asylum.”

Chapter Three

“Evrain, if you don’t sit still and concentrate, I swear on our lady moon, I will make sure you regret it.” Agatha stamped her foot, her frustration all too evident. “You have to apply yourself. Practice makes perfect.”

Evrain, sitting at Agatha’s well-scrubbed kitchen table, scowled. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I swear, Evrain, if you weren’t my grandson…” Agatha narrowed her eyes and treated him to a glare capable of withering thistles at the root.

Evrain swallowed nervously. His grandmother never made empty threats and he’d been on the receiving end of her harsh discipline too many times in the last few months to risk further punishment. She might look like a sweet old lady but Agatha was frighteningly creative when it came to making his life difficult. She was the one person he respected enough to back down when his impatience and frustration threatened to get the best of him. Compliance wasn’t in his nature, something all too apparent in the sometimes fiery relationship he maintained with his father. Agatha was ten times scarier than his dad, even on his worst day. Evrain pushed back a smile. He and his dad might fight but the love between them was just as fierce. He missed him. Not that he would admit that in a million years.