Page 8 of Elemental Love
“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 ascythe, 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, thatyouare 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. Youarea 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?”
