Page 11 of Above Cursed Winds

Though it was part of her gift, Zia generally refrained from manipulating or removing memories. Even if she had wanted to, she was born of creation, and it went against her internal moral code. For those who’d hurt someone, however, she made an exception.

Her abilities made her the perfect second to Nero. If a wayward tourist saw something they didn’t, her gift would allow them to walk away unharmed. If an immortal threatened her clan, she could erase the entire confrontation—or alter their intent.

By the time the meeting was over, she was about to be sick once more. With Jeremiah’s mental anguish pelting at her from across the room, Zia and Nero planned a hasty exit.

As soon as they could get away with it, they teleported straight into his living room, and both breathed a sigh of relief to be away from the Elemental.

“I told you it wasn’t going to be a sentencing hearing.”

Zia sighed. “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s my fault.”

Nero reached out and hugged her close. “Zia, no one foresaw this happening—not even Key. Now, we wait for Jeremiah to get ready and then make his way here, and then we dig into the facts. Let us hope that when he arrives, he’ll be slightly less agitated.”

“One can only hope.”

“We’ll put him in the condo by the lighthouse.” Nero released her and collapsed into the leather armchair, as he cast a rueful gaze outside. “He can’t get into too much trouble there, right?”

Though she knew it was a shallow hope, she offered, “Can he not stay in town? With all of our younglings, I think it might be better to keep the volatile away from the vulnerable.”

Nero’s grin stretched a mile wide. “Would the vampires or werewolves—heck, even the Elementals—send you to live in a hut three miles away when they had available accommodation?” Amused chastisement jaded his gaze. “I think not, Zia.”

“Fine.”

Having the Elemental underfoot might be difficult, but if it meant he could help her figure out what had happened, it would be worth it. She just had to hope she’d survive the fallout.

Chapter Six

Being an air Elemental had its perks.

On top of his ability to fly, become invisible to the naked eye, and stop bullets with a wave of his hand, Jeremiah effectively became a turbulence killer whenever the plane he was on threatened to dive or shake.

Subconsciously, his abilities monitored the wind flow and air currents just outside of the plane, nullifying any gust before it could jostle it. Even without his conscious intent, the gifts Mother Nature bestowed on him ensured a smooth ride and quelled any queasiness his fellow passengers might’ve had.

And just as easily, he could down the plane if he chose to.

Though he could’ve ridden the wind from Iowa, the trek would’ve taken an inordinate amount of time, and time was a luxury they didn’t have. Hopping on a plane to Hawaii was the next best option.

As soon as Isaiah had teleported them back to Paracel, Jeremiah had stalked off, unheeding any of their calls to stop him. He didn’t want the Raeth sovereign to teleport him to Oahu. He needed the time to clear his head, and if he’d spent any more time in Isaiah’s company, he might be charged with murder. Instead, he’d locked his door, bought a plane ticket, and threw a bag together with the bare necessities.

Regardless of how many times Gideon knocked on his door or blew up his phone, he didn’t answer his monarch’s call. Why should he? The earth Elemental would only attempt to analyze once more why he lacked the capacity to move on. Jeremiah had had enough of his actions and feelings being scheduled by other people.

While Rukia had taken Gideon’s death just as poorly as he had, she’d found refuge in the arms of her mate. When Gideon had come back to life, she seemed to chalk the entire incident up to lessons learned and skipped on about her merry way, as if nothing had happened.

Jeremiah had a different story.

The image of Gideon’s blood pooling beneath his motionless body, executed only yards away from him, would never leave him. The memory had spread across his mind like a pervasive miasma of frustration and incompetence, poisoning every part of him that was once healthy.

And as much as Gideon implored him to move forward, Jeremiah simply couldn’t seem to escape the mire. He remained rooted in the memory where he’d watched his best friend die.

All of it, because Jeremiah hadn’t been able to save him. His failure had been eating away at him for the better part of two years. To see someone else make the same mistakes—mistakes that would eventually cost someone their life—was unacceptable.

He’d been cruel to Zia; he could admit that much. But she was responsible, and someone had to be punished.

Jeremiah opened his eyes. Overhead, the captain welcomed them to the islands and said something about local weather. Passengers stood before the plane even stopped moving, too anxious to escape the metal confines.

While Jeremiah was certainly in a rush, he waited and was the last one to leave.

Finally standing, he reluctantly grabbed his backpack from the overhead compartment and slung it over his shoulder before stalking off the plane, barely noting his surroundings.

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