Elements 2 - Shifting Selves Page 4

  She swung a sharp u-turn when Vivian gave us the address, taking us back toward Truckee. “You’re making assumptions. We don’t know what she is. And I didn’t notice you questioning our parameters at the lake.”

  “Well, that was different. Will was pissing me off, and I wanted to prove him wrong. Totally professional, obviously.”

  “Obviously.” She nodded soberly and continued to drive at an extremely unlawful speed toward Pamela’s house.

  “So, what exactly do we hope to learn from this girl, Simon? Did you get anything other than her name?”

  Simon smiled, a smug, close-lipped smile. “You can learn whatever you want, though based on your collective interviewing prowess, I will manage my expectations in that regard. Just keep her distracted for a few minutes, please.”

  Pamela’s family lived just northeast of town, not far from the Nevada border. Their home was the sort of oversized, under-designed monstrosity I was used to seeing in planned suburban developments, where it made a strange sort of sense. Here, it stood out from the smaller wooden homes, an ostentatious display of the owner’s wealth and general disregard for neighborhood harmony. The lawn was an impeccably maintained sea of green, and a Range Rover sat in the driveway. I guessed that the car hadn’t gone off road once in its pristine life.

  “Well, this will be fun,” I observed. “Who here speaks Stepford?”

  “Vivian does. She was raised in Connecticut. That’s your native tongue, right?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes at both of us and pointed wordlessly at herself. Seen through her eyes, perhaps a dreadlocked woman currently wearing steel-toed boots and a t-shirt that read “talk nerdy to me” wasn’t our most harmless-looking ambassador.

  “I’m sure they’re perfectly lovely, open-minded people. Still, you might want to stay in the car, Vivian.” I glanced at Sera, currently wearing head-to-toe black with an impressive amount of eyeliner. “Maybe you should, too.” I stepped quickly out of the car before Sera’s conjured fireball could test whether my newfound resistance to fire extended to my eyebrows. Simon hopped out in his four-footed form and took off around the side of the house.

  I strode up the path. Sera was right behind me, though Vivian remained firmly planted in the backseat. When I rang the doorbell, the chimes reminded their dog he was supposed to be on guard duty. A series of frenzied yips carried through the door, along with the exasperated tones of a woman who’d long since given up any hope of owning a quiet animal.

  At first, the woman who opened the door seemed to be about my age. Well, the age I appeared to be, at least, since that whole longevity thing really worked in our favor. She was as fit as any twenty-five-year-old, with the kind of lean muscle tone that came from hours in a Pilates studio, but a closer look revealed a few thin lines around her eyes, and she carried more knowledge in those eyes than most twenty-five-year-olds could claim. I quickly moved my estimate upward, putting her well into her forties.

  Her look was one of contrasts. Her clothes were neat and tailored, and though my interest in fashion didn’t extend far beyond jeans and various items made of cotton, she seemed to favor classic American designers, the sort that would produce commercials with young blonds frolicking in a meadow. She balanced that with heavy eye makeup and thick sand-colored hair that swirled around her shoulders, and she possessed unsettling amber eyes that didn’t seem to blink nearly enough. This had to be Pamela’s mother. A small corgi danced around her ankles, happily waiting its turn.

  “Hello,” I said, before Sera could begin her “stare and wait” routine. This woman’s eyes had the kind of strength one sees in people used to getting their way, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t cow before two young women at her door. “We were hoping to talk to your daughter for a moment.”

  She looked us up and down, and I was certain she was about to subject us to a lengthy series of questions. Just as I made a mental note to steal either Johnson’s or Carmichael’s badge the next time we saw them, she leaned back and hollered, “Dana!” Turning to us with a smile that went nowhere near her eyes, she said, “Wait here, please.” The door shut firmly in our faces.

  “I think this is going well,” said Sera.

  “We’re getting promoted any day now,” I agreed. “We probably should have specified which daughter we wanted.”

  The door swung open, and the girl standing in the doorway was so different from her mother that she might have been adopted. She was blond and quietly pretty, with just enough extra weight for soft, gentle curves. I imagined adults told her she was lovely all the time, but it was the sort of beauty most boys would overlook for a few more years. I wanted to hug her and assure her it would get better someday soon. She looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice drifted off on the final word, as if she was unused to speaking sentences of more than a word or two.

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We were hoping to speak to your sister.” I kept my voice soft and even. I felt like I was speaking to a skittish deer.

  She shook her head and addressed her reply toward her shoes. “She’s not here.”

  “When do you expect her back?” I only got a shrug in reply.

  “Maybe you can help us. We’re here on behalf of the FBI,” I told the top of her head. Fortunately, she showed no interest in seeing any physical evidence that would support our claim. “James MacMahon hasn’t been seen since last night. I understand Pamela knew him?”

  “James is missing?” That was news to her. She temporarily forgot her deep desire to not exist and looked at us, her eyes round and horrified. “Where is he?”

  Sera closed her eyes tightly, obviously resisting the urge to make an inappropriate joke at this girl’s expense. “We don’t know. That’s why he’s missing.”

  Dana’s head bobbed up and down several times. “Of course. Sorry.”

  “You knew him?” I asked.

  “Only a little. He was two years above me, but he always came to the football games. Sometimes, he sat near my family. We talked a little.” Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she quickly bowed her head, letting her hair swing forward to cover the telltale flush. She’d enjoyed those chats more than she was supposed to, and she knew it.

  “We heard he was dating your sister,” I nudged gently.

  She shook her head again, more decisively than she had before. “No. They were dating, but they broke up a couple weeks ago.” She spoke loudly, and even turned her head slightly toward the inside of her home, as if she wanted the words to be overheard by her mother.

  Pamela, I gathered, wasn’t supposed to be dating James. I was sure that was an interesting fact, though I couldn’t say why.

  Before I could follow up on that line of thought, several frantic barks resonated through the house. The dog I’d seen earlier dashed down the hallway, nails clicking against the wooden floor and short legs churning wildly in an attempt to catch the small black cat racing three feet ahead of it, carrying several articles of clothing in his mouth.

  We immediately created a cat-sized opening between our legs, allowing Simon just enough room to escape, and promptly moved back into place, preventing the dog from following. I wobbled back and forth a few times to block Dana from seeing the cat who’d just stolen several pieces of her family’s wardrobe. With any luck, she’d assume I was drunk rather than an accomplice. A moment later, I heard the car door slam and figured that was our cue.

  “Thank you for your time. Please let Pamela know we’d like to speak to her, and call us if you hear anything about James.” I looked to Sera, who held up two empty hands. I quickly scrawled my name and number on the back of a grocery receipt. Dana looked unimpressed. You know you’re not doing well when a teenager questions your professionalism.

  We walked toward the car with stiff spines, trying to appear at least a little competent. Inside, Simon was just pulling on his jeans, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Sera wasn’t in the car a full se
cond before she began her torment. “Dude. You were chased by a corgi. You will never live this down.”

  “I did not plan to go downstairs, but these people keep a spotless house. There were no dirty clothes to be found other than in the laundry hamper.” He handed the stack up to me. “I wasn’t sure which were Pamela’s, so I grabbed everything it looked like a teenager might wear.” I nodded and quickly felt my way through several shirts.

  There was little residue to be found. This family didn’t seem to sweat much. “Hand me that water bottle, Viv?” I poured a small amount on a couple of shirts, trying to revive whatever essence still lingered.

  “A corgi. A dog with only half the legs of an actual dog, and it was right on your tail. Quite literally, in fact.”

  Simon attempted to look dignified. “They are much faster than they look, those dogs.”

  I blocked them out and concentrated on the shirt, looking for any sign of that second person who’d been at the lake. I had little hope of finding anything and was stunned to encounter a perfect match on the second article of clothing.

  “It’s her. The woman at the lake.”

  Sera abruptly stopped teasing Simon. “Who?”

  “Don’t know.” I looked closer at the shirt on my lap. It was cap-sleeved and bright pink, and I thought Dana would wear a size larger. “Pamela, I’d guess. Or her mother.” We both looked quickly toward the house, just in time to see a curtain fall back into place from an upstairs window. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all.”

  Sera grunted her agreement, then started the car. As we made our way slowly down the street, loud music blaring from the open windows, we passed a green Ford Explorer heading the opposite direction. I smiled and waved cheerily at the two large, grumpy men in the front seat.

  CHAPTER 4

  After speaking to Dana, I wanted to return to the cabin, situate myself on one of the living room cushions, and patiently await Mac while practicing my best smug expressions. I made it through the first step of that plan. The second two were derailed when Sera and I found our father waiting for us.

  Josiah Blais stood in the living room with a bemused expression. Seen through his eyes, it was a rather unconventional room. When a fire destroyed the furniture, drapes, and wallpaper, we’d replaced it all with oversized floor pillows, orange curtains that had likely been on sale since 1977, and swathes of teddy bear wallpaper, of which several panels had accidentally been hung upside down. Considering Josiah was the reason we’d needed to redecorate in the first place, I found his scrutiny of the teddy bear fortress inappropriate, to say the least.

  If his presence hadn’t been disconcerting enough, seeing my mother waiting next to him was enough to convince me I’d skipped right to the hallucination stage of mental instability.

  “Hello, Aidan.” She nodded at me and roundly ignored my three friends.

  “I’ll be upstairs,” murmured Vivian, heading toward the spiral staircase in the middle of the room. She tugged lightly on Simon’s sleeve when he showed no inclination to follow her, and he reluctantly left the room.

  Finally, the four of us stood alone, my twisted little family.

  There were so many things I wanted to say, so many reasons to scream at them. They’d hidden the truth of my existence my entire life, and my ignorance had caused unspeakable harm to myself and others. They’d forced me to live a more sheltered life than a harem bride for the first fifty years of my existence and achieved nothing in the process. I was still in danger of going mad, still in danger of being killed by my own people, but now I coped with those risks while occasionally demonstrating the emotional intelligence of a banana slug.

  I’d been born a little broken. Their insistence on denying what I might become ensured I stayed that way.

  All these thoughts crashed together in my head, a senseless cacophony of noise and instant anger, and I did the only thing I could. I forced it down, imagining the rage folding into smaller and smaller squares until it was just a tiny speck.

  Some people rushed to their parents in times of stress, seeking comfort for their worries and fears. I did not have those parents. I had parents so determined to protect me they sought to control every aspect of my life. Any anger I revealed would become a weapon, justification for wrapping me in cotton wool and hiding me from the world once again.

  “Why are you here?” My voice was steady. If I wasn’t using every bit of my emotional control to maintain that measured response, I’d have been quite proud of myself.

  Josiah opened his mouth to respond, but my mother answered before he could. He looked at her in astonishment, unused to being interrupted.

  “I was worried about you. You haven’t been answering our calls.”

  I turned to her, this woman I loved as much as I loved anyone on this planet, and briefly wished the earth might swallow her whole. “Worried about what? That I might be furious you tried to hide what I was? That I might not want to speak to you after a lifetime of lies? Or maybe just that you never warned me that, the first time I met my father, he might try to kidnap me for observation?”

  Josiah rolled his eyes. “Really, Aidan, such exaggeration accomplishes nothing. You know everything I did was for your safety. This visit is no different. If you won’t live with me and Serafina in Hawaii, then please consider returning to your island with Fiona.” I glanced at Sera, who gave a tiny shake of her head. She hadn’t signed off on that plan. “We know so little about dual magics, and until we understand how your powers will develop, you really must live in isolation, in a state of contentment. Fiona and I will work to determine the best course of action.” He smiled easily, believing his point so obvious there was no room for argument.

  There is always room for argument.

  “That presumes I find peace around either of you at this point.” I looked at Josiah and let the rage briefly fill my grey eyes, then I deliberately let the fire die. Whether he acknowledged it or not, I had control, damn it.

  “I’ve been more content in the last two weeks than I’ve been in ages. I was alone for years, hating myself and hating Sera for things that weren’t our fault, because you never told me what I was. I lost a decade to your lies, hiding from truths I didn’t understand, and now you’re asking me to hide again. If you hear nothing else I say, hear this. I am done hiding.” I stood up straight, quite impressed with my own speech.

  Josiah was harder to impress. He threw up his arms at my refusal, just another father exasperated by his errant, unreasonable daughter. He began to pace the room, so much like Sera that, for a moment, I almost wanted to trust him. “Serafina, you know this isn’t the best solution. Getting drawn back into another FBI case? It’s only a matter of time before something upsets her and she accesses her fire side again.” I didn’t bother to ask how he knew about the FBI. It sometimes seemed Josiah had a spy network to rival the CIA.

  It also didn’t seem worth mentioning that Josiah once helped me access that fire side. His logic shifted and changed as necessary to support his beliefs and maintain control. It was as erratic and unpredictable as any flame.

  “How the hell did you end up relatively normal?” I muttered to my best friend.

  She smiled at me. It was quick, a simple, open smile, but it was answer enough. She’d survived being raised by Josiah because, somehow, Sera had always known exactly who she was.

  “I trust her, father.” The words were quiet, the barest whisper, but it was the first time I’d ever seen Sera openly defy her father. Everyone else, sure. She barreled through life, doing exactly as she pleased and demanding the rest of the world conform to her specifications. While her father might have seen her angry, even angry at him, she’d never before refused him.

  “Serafina,” he cajoled, confident she would change her mind. She only shook her head and held his gaze, a little nervous but still determined.

  “Aidan,” my mother said, “come home. There’s no reason for you to remain here, and I’m sure I can convince the aunts not to shun you
for telling the FBI about us. You really had no choice, thanks to Josiah and his pet.” Her glare was icy, more anger than one usually saw in a water. I really did have a way of bringing out her best.

  It didn’t matter what she said. It didn’t even matter how much anger I felt for my parents. None of that had anything to do with my decision. There was one fact of which I was certain, and that made my choice easy. “I am home, mother.”

  My mother offered no reply, once again as calm and placid as any water. Her face was the funhouse mirror version of my own. We were so much alike we could pass for sisters among humans, but she was pure water, fluid and adaptable, whereas I was stubborn and focused.

  Even so, I wasn’t fooled. She was calm now because she believed I could still be convinced, and she was already considering each argument I offered and devising counter-strategies. Smiling serenely, she nodded her head and strode to the door, leaving without another word.

  Josiah started to follow, then stopped abruptly. “I can’t just ignore this situation and watch you go utterly mad. You are still my daughter.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter how often you say it. It doesn’t make it true. You provided some genetic material, but you’ve never been my father.” I didn’t wait to hear his response or see how my words might wound. I walked quickly up the staircase, leaving him behind.

  Even so, I heard his final words to Sera. “Please. Try to talk some sense into her.”

  There was a low murmur, words I was unable to pick out, but her final reply was unmistakable. “Leave, father. Leave while you still have one daughter left.” The door shut quietly behind him.

  The next morning, I awoke to a silent house. I crept downstairs and fixed myself a cup of tea. It was one ritual I’d reclaimed from my days of solitude. I’d wake with the sunrise and sit at the breakfast bar with my mug and journal and see what my subconscious felt like writing about that day. It was still the best therapy I knew.