The Order of the Elements 01 - Breaking Point (49 page)

“I can try.” She didn’t want to face it. She didn’t want to feel it.

Hector held out his hand. “Come on.”

She swam forward reluctantly and took his hand so he could pull her up onto the bank. She started at him blankly.

“Phoebe,” he chastised her.

Phoebe sighed, closed her eyes, and shifted back to her human body and all the burdens that came with it. The scales disappeared, and her dress reappeared. Immediately, the ache in her chest multiplied immeasurably. She knew she should’ve been angry, but she could find no place left in her body for anger. Only pain.

Phoebe curled into a ball, thinking that compacting her body would force it back together. The serene look on Dorian’s face as he had twirled Kali’s hair flashed before her eyes. Tears finally broke free of their barriers, and noisy sobs escaped as she started shaking.

A solid arm slid under her shoulders and another under her knees as Hector picked her up. He started walking, and before she knew it she was curled up at the end of a couch as her tears faded. She was exhausted, and her eyes burned. The pain in her chest was still very present, but she had no more tears left to cry. And, no more reason… Crying wouldn’t bring him back.

Sapphire rested on the couch with her head in Phoebe’s lap. Phoebe wiped her eyes and sat up to examine her surroundings. For one horrifying minute she thought she was in Dorian’s room until she spotted Hector sitting at the edge of the couch. Comprehension dawned on her as she looked around again. This was Hector’s room, but it very much resembled Dorian’s. She glanced back at Hector.

“What time is it?” Her voice was rough and hoarse.

“About one in the morning.”

She had been crying for nearly five hours. “Where is everyone?” There was no inflection in her voice at all.

“They were here for a while, until you told them to go get some sleep.”

Phoebe couldn’t remember seeing anyone, let alone being composed enough to speak.

Hector watched her closely, but she was appreciative that he had, so far, refrained from asking if she was okay or how she felt. Even in the short years of her life, she knew those were the two worst things to ask someone who was upset. Those words always caused reflection that would tear open the bleeding wounds again. Instead, Hector let her direct the conversation, if there was to be any.

She didn’t really feel like talking, but she needed information. “What happened at the ball?”

Hector analyzed her expression for a minute before he answered. “Cassius took care of everything, and everyone went back to their lives as usual.” He had found the meaning behind Phoebe’s question and had answered competently, carefully avoiding anything that would make her upset.

She felt dried tears on her cheeks and looked down to see that her dress was crumpled. She glanced back up at Hector, and he pointed to a pile of fabric on the table.

“Lucy brought clothes up for you,” he said.

Phoebe nodded and assessed her ability to get up from the couch. Loosening out of her tight ball hurt; her muscles had been contracted for so long that they were cramped and sore. After a minute, she managed to unfold, but she was exposed and totally alone.

She felt cold.

Phoebe pulled the clothes off of the table and stood up. Sapphire lifted her head, but stayed in place while Phoebe double and triple checked every movement that she made. The loss of something that she had been so sure of caused her to question everything. Hector said nothing as he watched her. Nor did he hover and offer help, which would surely have irritated her.

She found the bathroom door and let herself inside, triple checking the latch behind her to make sure it was secure before she turned to evaluate herself in the mirror. She looked awful: her hair was a frazzled mess, makeup and tear tracks were splotched all over her face, her eyes were red and swollen, and her dress was rumpled and wrinkled.

Phoebe leaned down and untied the many twists of her shoes to take them off, then she shuffled through the pile of fabric until she found a thick pair of socks to wear and slid them on. She pulled a cloth off of the counter and washed her face with cold water, which brought down the swelling and redness of her face. The removal of the dried tears and makeup revealed pale skin. There was a brush on the counter, and she pulled it through her hair several times until all the tangles were combed out, and then gathered it into a loose ponytail. She quickly brushed her teeth and then re-hydrated her body. Lastly, she pulled off her dress and put on the shirt, warm sweatshirt, and thick, comfortable pants.

She looked down at the crumpled pile of fabric and the lifeless ribbons of her shoes, unsure of what to do with them. She had no motivation at all to bend down and pick them up. So she left it all there.

Phoebe exited the bathroom and slowly made her way back to the corner of the couch. Sapphire nudged her cheek before placing her head back in Phoebe’s lap. She wanted to curl back up into her protective ball, but the feeling of exposure and aloneness suited her. That’s how he had left her. Why pretend otherwise?

Hector still said nothing. He didn’t try to express pity or anger, nor did he try to make small talk. He just watched.

“Would you like me to leave so you can sleep?” Phoebe knew she wouldn’t sleep. Her pain would not leave her be long enough for that.

Hector shrugged. “Only if you want to. If I was tired, I would be sleeping.”

She looked over his face. There were no shadows there; his eyes were wide and alert. He showed no signs of sleepiness; then again, as she reminded herself, he
could
change his appearance. She decided to trust what he said. She didn’t want to leave. She shuddered at the thought of accidentally coming across either of the people who had broken her. Now that her pain had been cried out, she could feel a small flame of anger flaring. She knew she wouldn’t be able to control herself if she were to come across either one of them.

Phoebe settled down further into the couch to show that she wasn’t leaving. Hector nodded. Something about his silence nagged at her. It wasn’t normal. Any other person would have been making all the annoying mistakes that he wasn’t. Her eyes wandered of their own volition to study him once again. His pose was calm and unconcerned as he read a book she had failed to notice earlier.

“So, you’re really not going to ask me?” The question came before she could stop it.

He looked up in surprise. “Ask you what?”

Phoebe frowned. “How I’m doing? If I’m all right? If there’s anything you can do?”

His dark eyes turned to confusion. “Did you want me to be asking those questions?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then why does it bother you that I’m not?” he asked, cutting her off.

“Because you should be! Anyone else would!”

“You wouldn’t,” he pointed out.

“Well, I know I wouldn’t, but that’s because I can tell what people want, but you’re just…” Phoebe stopped before she said something that could be offensive.

“Normal? Incapable of feeling emotions and therefore unable to respond to them appropriately?” Hector finished her thought perfectly.

Phoebe’s open mouth snapped shut and her face flushed. She stared down at her hands, which she suddenly realized were clenched together tightly. “I didn’t mean that. I just can’t figure you out,” she mumbled.

Hector reached over and gently pried her fingers apart. They were white from the tightness with which they had been bound. She glanced back up to try to assess his mood. He didn’t look angry or hurt. He was thoughtful. Just then it occurred to her why it was nearly impossible to figure him out. It was because his emotions were so limited, and because he often didn’t express them the way other humans did. Therefore, it was impossible to glean any of his thoughts from his outward appearance.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” he said quietly.

“Would I have…under normal circumstances?”

The corner of his mouth twisted up in a lopsided grin. “You mean if I had feelings to hurt?” He didn’t pause for an answer. “I don’t think so. You are right, after all.”

“I usually am.” Phoebe wasn’t sure where her sarcasm had come from. She felt far from sarcastic at the moment.

His grin twisted up further. “That’s debatable.”

If it weren’t for the unnaturally large hole in her chest, it would have almost felt like any other night—she and Hector arguing good naturedly with one another, as was customary.

“Apparently not in this case,” Phoebe replied.

His eyes turned serious again, although a small smile stayed in place. “Yes, I think I have a theory for you—if you’re interested.”

“I am.”

She briefly marveled over how she had gone from not wanting to talk at all to using sarcasm in less than fifteen minutes. She could feel that her elixir had worn off because she was getting flashes of dreams from people in the rooms around them. It had been a while since she had to do so, but she managed to suppress all the disjointed dreams from her mind. There was one with someone walking in a garden that wouldn’t go away, but Phoebe ignored it and turned her attention back to Hector.

“Well, you can feel everyone’s emotions and hear everyone’s thoughts so you know exactly what to do for someone who’s upset or angry or whatever. I, on the other hand, can’t do that, so logically I should be reacting like any other ‘normal’ human would. But I’m
not
normal. My inability to feel emotions led to me watching people closely and studying the way they behave through every emotion. I still want to experience emotions even though I can’t feel them. So, through all that watching, I’ve learned how to read people and their wants fairly accurately.” He sounded as though he was proud of his conclusion.

It was a fairly competent one. However, Phoebe kept getting distracted by this odd dream. It was only when Hector quit speaking and she didn’t have to focus on his words that she realized it wasn’t quite a dream, but it wasn’t quite real either.

“I guess both ends of the spectrum give insight. It seems those in the middle are the ones muddled and confused. I’ve never noticed before, but you are very perceptive. Maybe one day I’ll be able to figure you out too,” Phoebe said.

She was trying to talk and follow this dream that wasn’t quite a dream at the same time. If there was one thing in the world that could distract her from anything, it would be something that she couldn’t figure out. In the dream, the garden was just like the one in the Annexus. There was a blond woman on the bench, but her back was to whoever’s dream this was. If Phoebe had been seeking the dream out she would have known who this was, but when it just came to her, it was harder to figure out.

Hector’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? You think figuring you out is easy? Most people have a predictable pattern of behavior once you get to know them, but I never know what to expect from you!” he exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” Phoebe asked.

She wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation anymore. The woman spoke in the half-dream she was watching, and the person in the dream answered. It was Ethan.

“Like right now! What’s going on? What are you doing?” Hector asked as he scooted closer to her.

“I don’t quite know. Something is going on. It’s Ethan; he’s dreaming but not really dreaming.”

Phoebe listened to their conversation for a minute.

“What?” Hector asked. She didn’t blame him for the one word question. She would be speechless too if someone had just said something that convoluted to her.

“Wait, this is something important.” She was suddenly very alert as the dream progressed.

Hector waited patiently. Phoebe gasped.

“What? What is it?” Panic colored his voice, and Phoebe snapped back to reality.

“We have to go, now. You need to get your weapons.”

Hector looked totally confused but followed her orders and then followed her and Sapphire out the door.

33. Dream

It had taken Ethan a very long time to fall asleep. Several thoughts clogged his mind. Before they’d left Phoebe in Hector’s room, Hector had instructed them not to try to find Dorian or Kali to try to right any wrongs that had been committed. Being just like family, that’s exactly what they’d all wanted to do.

Evan was the epitome of Phoebe’s protective brother. Lucy and Cynthia were the sisters. Hector was the best friend. Jared was the caring and concerned brother, and Ethan was—what was he? How did he fit into this complex family? What was he to Phoebe? Did he even have a role? Had he been so wrapped up in fighting off his jealously of her that he hadn’t formed any sort of relationship with the one blood relative he did have here?

You’re her support; you’re the one who understands what it’s like to leave an entire life behind and try to pick up a new one. If you two didn’t have each other, I think that change would have been a lot more difficult for both of you. It still is difficult. I know you still miss your family and your friends and so does she. Lucy’s thoughts had floated into his consciousness.

Ethan did miss his family. He missed the simple things. Things that he had always taken for granted, like his mother’s cooking and his father’s advice. He missed the beach. He missed feeling hot and cold. He missed feeling like he belonged somewhere. He missed freedom. He thought about a lot of things: his family, home, Lucy, Phoebe, all his other friends, magic, no magic, changes—there had been so many in such a short amount of time—time passing, Shade, duties, evil, good, jealously… The list could go on forever.

Lucy had listened to these tumultuous thoughts for a little while without interruption before she fell asleep. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t try to interject her opinion or try to change his mind about anything. Sometimes they all just needed to figure things out on their own. Eventually his wearied thoughts carried him into sleep too. Except that he wasn’t really sleeping yet. It had been a while since he had been in the garden that existed somewhere between his conscious and unconscious minds.

He walked slowly. He felt a need to rush for some reason, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to. In the end, he was left with the feeling of needing to be somewhere really fast, but traveling entirely too slowly. He was so confused.