Page 18 of The Elementalist
“Why is that?”
“They are not needed, most likely.”
“So Mother Nature peppers the Earth with potential elementals... just in case?”
Michael shrugged. “Hard to say, Max. But there is evidence that Elementals are basically regular humans—albeit people who are in touch with nature—waking up to find himself orherself being used as a tool... or a weapon. Perhaps, in this case, an assassin. Nature’s assassin.”
“First of all, I’m not a killer. I’m just a private eye, and not a very successful one.”
“I suspect you are an honest man. A good man. A moral man. Hey, follow me.”
He gave my sleeve a tug and I turned off the somewhat busy sidewalk and into an alley. He led me deeper within... all the way down to a dumpster sandwiched between a bar and the town’s only grocery store. The alley was surprisingly ominous for a small town. I’d heard of drug deals going down here, and, yes, a body or two had shown up in that very dumpster. We weren’t the unofficial murder capital of the state for nothing.
A warm wind swept down the narrow corridor, bringing it with the smell of slightly rotten food and not-so-rotten beer. Mostly, though, the wind felt good, and my body tingled from head to toe. That old feeling of longing returned, that feeling that I was somehow separated from... a place I needed to be. A sense that I had been missingsomethingoverwhelmed me, like I’d been a twin in the womb, but my brother never made it, a connection forever lost.
Michael opened the dumpster lid and peered inside, then nodded to himself.
“It’s mostly empty, just some cardboard.” He scanned the immediate surroundings. “All brick in the alleyway. Nothing should catch on fire.”
“Say again?”
But he ignored my question. “We’re pretty deep in the alley. Not a lot of foot traffic. I think this is the spot.”
“The spot for what?”
“Why, to practice.”
“Practice what, exactly?”
“Max, I don’t think you realize that you’ve painted a targeton your back last night. That little wind demonstration at the bar didn’t go unnoticed by your enemies.”
“I don’t have enemies.”
“You do now. The guy who came knocking? The guy with no hands? He is almost assuredly a vampire. And he didn’t show up to hire you.”
I swallowed. “How... how do you know he was a vampire?”
“Because vampires don’t show up on film, in mirrors, or on camera.”
“But parts of him did...”
“Makeup, Max. He was wearing makeup... everywhere but his hands.”
“But why is he looking for me?”
“Why indeed, Max? A social visit... or was he going to fix a potential problem?”
“Fix a problem?”
“You, Max. You’re his problem. You’re about to be all of their problems. Which is why we need to get you up to speed on who you really are. And before you ask, you’re an elementalist, Max. You have been given access to elemental forces, and the vampires are not happy. Now, are you ready for your training?”
And train we did...
With Michael’s help, I learned how to summon fire and rain, and to shake the ground. Not too much shaking. Just enough to rattle the dumpster. I both started fires and rained them out, all while wind whipped faster and faster down the alley, howling like a living thing, which I’d come to believe it kinda sorta was. All the while, I stood there with my hands out and my eyes closed, looking very much like something out of a Harry Potter movie.
As I worked on forming a ball of fire, noise arose in the distance. Voices, I think. No, whispers. Either way, they were so faint that I could have been imagining them. Try as I might, Icouldn’t make out the words.
“Do you hear that?” I asked, just as I doused the latest fire with a mini rainstorm, complete with mini thunderclouds. I thought it to be actually quite cute. With a wave of my hand, the clouds dispersed in a burst of rain. “Voices. On the wind.”
