Blown (Elemental Series Book 2) (4 page)

“Kirk?” Nate said, his stomach clenching, as he pulled the phone from his ear. He quickly called his friend’s number, and the fear building in his gut only increased when it failed to ring before going to voicemail. Without bothering to leave a message, Nate spun around and fast-walked back into the large living room, where laughter was once again filling the air. “Something’s wrong,” he said by way of explanation as he snatched his jacket off the back of the couch.

Again, the laughter cut itself off, and Blake asked, “Wrong how?” There was a tone in his voice that indicated he had already guessed the answer.

“That wasn’t Kirk,” Nate replied. “I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Wait up,” Dean called, pushing to his feet. “I’ll go with you.” Dean followed his brother out of the room quickly, neither breaking stride as they reached the door. Silence reigned behind them, but no one attempted to call them back.

Once they were outside, Nate said, “I’m gonna fly ahead.”

“Sure,” Dean replied as he dug his keys out of his pocket.

Nate took a deep breath, tossed his jacket to his brother, and closed his eyes. The air around him swirled tightly, as if trying to pull him off the ground, and his skin shimmered once before he vanished entirely from sight. His clothes fell, fluttering loosely to the ground.

****

Nate flew in through Kirk’s perpetually open living room window, instantly materializing and landing soundlessly on the carpet. The corner lamp was on, casting sufficient light around the room, and he pushed to his feet as he looked around. “Kirk?” he called, projecting his voice to be heard throughout the apartment. Silence greeted him. He took a deep breath, ignoring the building ache in his head that came from flying across town in his elemental form, and closed his eyes again.

Gentle waves of air began wafting through the apartment, curving around walls and over furniture, outlining the solid objects in Nate’s mind. And then he finally found what he was looking for, and his eyes snapped open as his feet began moving. He flew up the stairs, barely touching down before he was outside Kirk’s closed bedroom door. He threw the door open and for a moment his throat constricted when he saw his friend lying motionless on top of his mattress. But he was still breathing.

“Kirk!” Nate called as he came to a stop beside the bed. He reached out to shake his friend’s shoulders before his eyes caught sight of the burn marks on Kirk’s forearm. Kirk’s skin was scorched, blackened in the shape of a handprint. “Oh, god,” Nate groaned as he realized what must have happened. Their largely unknown enemies had come after his best friend and electrocuted him.

“Nate!” Dean called from downstairs, most likely the living room.

“Up here!” Nate replied. “I think he’s been electrocuted!”

Pounding feet preceded Dean’s arrival before he barreled into the room and came to a stop. He was scowling deeply as his eyes landed on the unconscious form of his friend, and he tossed Nate’s jeans to his brother as he moved more into the room. “Put those on and we’ll carry him downstairs.”

Nate swiftly tugged his pants back on and then the brothers carefully slid Kirk’s limp body off of the mattress. Tense silence weighed heavily in the air as they made their way down the hall, down the stairs, and out to Dean’s illegally parked car. The silence was joined by grunting and muffled curses as they struggled to get Kirk into the backseat. The brothers angled into the car once Kirk was settled and Dean turned around, back the way he’d come.

Not a word was spoken as Dean sped through town, portable flashing light secured to the roof of his car.

Logan and Blake were waiting for them outside when they returned, and the four of them had a much easier time getting Kirk out of the car and into the house. Logan set him down on the unoccupied couch and stepped back, coming to stand beside his brothers, to make room for Angela.

“Oh my god,” Angela breathed, her eyes wide, as she got her first good look at Kirk. Having been Nate’s best friend since they were eleven, she’d known the unconscious man most of her life. And seeing someone who was so much like family in such a horrible condition would make anyone sick. She quickly moved to his side, dropping to her knees beside the couch, and gathered her own power. He was badly hurt, but he was still alive, which meant she could heal him.

While Angela focused on saving his best friend, Nate turned and made his way to the kitchen. He was mostly recovered at this point, a fortunate side effect of having eaten a large meal so recently, but he was angry. Kirk hadn’t been back in town a month and already their enemies were targeting him.

“This isn’t your fault, Nate,” Blake said quietly from behind him. There was an echo of familiarity in his voice.

“Yes it is,” Nate replied sharply, leaning against the counter as he turned to face his brother. “They specifically went after him because of me.”

Blake inclined his head, moving to lean against an adjacent counter. “I understand,” he assured him, “but you can’t take responsibility for their actions.” Nate turned his worried, angry gaze to his brother, but Blake cut him off. “I felt just as responsible—just as guilty—when they went after Brooke. And
you all
told me not to blame myself, remember?”

Nate cringed, dropping Blake’s gaze, and clenched his fists over the edge of the counter. “Yeah,” he admitted after a long moment.

“Think of it this way,” Blake offered, “Kirk’s not going to blame you for this, either.”

Sighing now, Nate said, “I know. But it still pisses me off.”

“That’s something we can all understand,” Logan assured him as he and Dean stepped into the kitchen. He planted his feet flat on the floor across from Nate and crossed his arms, frustration evident on his face. “We’ll have to use this as a reminder that we still need to find them and stop them.”

Dean continued past Logan, angling into the corner between Blake and Nate and leaned back, palms splayed over the countertop. “Do you think Jacob and his father are the only ones? Or do you think there’s a third?”

“We’ve only seen evidence of the two so far,” Blake reminded as a dark, distant look crossed his eyes.

“But there’s no guarantee that someone else couldn’t have been behind one of the attacks,” Dean argued. “We still don’t know who to blame for that attack on Angie a few months ago.”

Logan inclined his head. “That’s true.”

“The guy on the phone earlier sounded like he’d fit Jacob’s age group,” Nate declared, recalling the non-conversation he’d had with the enemy.

“It’s always possible that Jacob could have a brother, though,” Dean pointed out. “I mean, they’re elementals, too, and there are four of us. Not counting Angie.”

Turning slightly horrified eyes to Dean, Nate asked, “You think there could be four of them?”

Dean shrugged, only slightly lifting his palms from the counter before they landed on the smooth surface again and he replied, “Who’s to say? They’re different than us, but they’re similar, so there’s no telling what rules do and don’t apply.”

Nate released a long-suffering sigh, his head falling back to stare at the ceiling, and he exclaimed, “I hate this! What the hell’s wrong with these people that we can’t even have a
life
without worrying about feeling guilty?”

Around him, his siblings echoed his frustration.

Lillian stepped into the kitchen then, silently calling their attention before she said, “I made up a room for Kirk for the night. Did you two lock up behind yourselves?”

“Wasn’t exactly high on our priority list,” Dean replied. “I’ll swing back by and secure his apartment.”

Nate tugged his keys out of his jeans pocket, silently removed the spare house key Kirk had given him, and handed it to his brother. “Here.”

Eric moved into the room quietly, looking around at the brothers before settling his gaze on Lillian and asking, “Uh, would it be easier if I just called Emma to have her pick me up? I know things are kind of … bad right now.”

Before his mother could respond, Dean said, “Nah. I’ll give you a ride home while I’m out. Come on.” He pushed off of the counter as he spoke, nodding at his siblings and his mother, and made his way to the hall.

Eric turned and quickly followed him, calling out polite goodbyes as he moved.

Chapter Four

It was late before Nate finally went home, begrudgingly acknowledging that—with those wounds—Kirk wouldn’t wake up until at least midmorning. And though he supposed he could have stayed at his parents’ place, a part of him was worried Kirk wouldn’t be his only warning of the night. As he parked in his garage, beside Madison’s now-familiar blue RX-8, Nate was even tempted to knock on her door just to see if she was all right.
And how would I play that one off when she answered?
Somehow, he imagined “I just wanted to make sure my lightning-throwing enemies hadn’t gotten to you” wasn’t the way to go.

Taking a deep breath, Nate swung his leg around and stepped back from his motorcycle as the garage door slid down. He let himself out the side door, carefully locking it behind him, and hesitated again as his eyes landed on the lit front windows of Madison’s building. For an instant he considered transforming again and slipping in through the cracked window to assure himself that she was all right. But he knew better, so he shook his head and turned toward his own home. There were no signs that anything was wrong. He would just have to hope that, one way or another, their enemy wouldn’t be satisfied with that kind of subtlety.

His foot was poised to land on the first step when Madison’s voice drifted to his ears.

“Mama, please,” Madison said, a faint layer of horrified laughter in her words. “I’m not that desperate.”

Nate paused, foot now resting on the first step, and turned toward her on reflex. Their eyes met as she leaned against the wall beside her front door, phone held up to her ear, and she smiled a silent greeting. A layer of worry fled from him as he realized she was fine, and he lifted his hand in a half-wave. He couldn’t quite manage a smile. And then he turned, intent on giving her her privacy, and continued up the steps to his back door.

****

Madison frowned as she watched Nate unlock his door and slip inside. He hadn’t returned her smile, and even from her distance, in the dark, she could tell his eyes didn’t have their usual shine. Suddenly she was worried.

“—are you even listening to me?” Missy was asking on the other end of the line.

Blinking to orient herself, Madison said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mama. I have to go. I just remembered something I need to do. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She barely listened to her mother’s slightly stunned acceptance before pulling the phone from her ear and flipping it shut. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but something inside of her insisted she at least try to offer a helping hand or a friendly ear. So she disappeared back into her home, fast walking to her kitchen, and pulled out a recently purchased pecan pie. Dessert had a magical way of easing a heavy heart.

Within minutes she was crossing the distance to his back deck, pie in hand. She easily ascended the steps and soon found herself standing before his back door—which was technically a sliding glass door, covered by a dark green curtain.
It’s sort of weird to knock on a glass door,
she decided as she lifted one hand and tapped her knuckles against the glass. She shifted her weight self-consciously as she waited, suddenly second-guessing her actions. She still barely knew him. What if he wanted to be alone? Or, more importantly, what if he was dangerous when he was upset?

She had already dismissed that notion by the time he pushed aside his curtain and pulled open the door, one eyebrow arched curiously at her. And before he could say anything, Madison held out the pie and smiled as she declared, “I swear I’m not trying to be nosy. I just noticed that you seemed upset about something, and I happened to have this fresh pecan pie in my fridge. I thought maybe you’d like a little company? Or at least a little dessert?”

Nate stared at her for a long moment, eyes slightly widened, as he took in her words. “Dessert’s always better when you can share it,” he replied after a brief moment. He offered her a small, honest smile and stepped to the side so she could enter.

“Yes it is,” Madison agreed as she entered his house. It was the first time she’d seen the inside of it and she was surprised at just how
open
it was. The sliding door was off of his spacious living room, which was probably twice the size of hers, and it opened straight to the kitchen. His kitchen, also a fair amount larger than hers, was L-shaped, and beyond the kitchen she could clearly see the wide entryway. There was an alcove across the hall from the kitchen, which she assumed led to the remaining rooms of the house.

“Go ahead and set the pie down,” Nate was saying, dragging her back to the moment, “I’ll grab plates and forks. Did you want a drink? I was just about to make some coffee.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Madison replied as she moved toward the rectangular coffee table to set down the box in her hands. “Do you want any help?” she called after the box was safely resting on the table, turning her eyes toward the kitchen again. She felt guilty for inviting herself over and then letting him wait on her.

Without so much as glancing in her direction, Nate replied, “Nope. You just make yourself comfy, I’ll be done in a sec.”

Madison took a deep breath and allowed herself to sit on the sofa behind her. It was large, plush, and offered no resistance as she sank into it. The surprisingly supportive cushions were nothing short of heavenly against her tired muscles, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from falling shut as she relaxed.
It’s like sitting on a cloud.

Chuckling faintly, Nate asked, “Should I get you a blanket and turn out the light?”

Madison pried her eyes open, trying not to flush at being caught, and said, “No, no. But if you could tell me where to get a couch like this, I’m not too proud to listen.”

Nate was setting a plate in front of her, having already set one down in front of the wide chair, and he laughed at her words. “The couch was a house-warming gift from my parents, but I’d be happy to ask for you.”

Sighing dramatically, Madison shifted so that she could lean forward and said, “No, that’s all right. I can’t justify replacing mine anyway.”

He offered her a grin and reached over, lifting the lid on the box, and asked, “So, should we split it fifty-fifty?”

Madison laughed and shook her head vigorously. “Oh, God, I couldn’t eat that much if I tried!”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Nate replied, “Your loss, then,” and lifted the carving knife that he’d brought out. She watched as he carefully sliced the pie until he had divided it into six good-sized pieces. Then he set one piece on her plate, asking, “How about this? Is this too much?”

“This is perfect,” Madison assured him, accepting the plate he was holding out for her.

Nate swiftly plated a second piece before re-covering the pie and sitting back in his chair. He paused, then, pursing his lips in thought as he looked at his dessert, before lifting his eyes to his guest and asking, “Can you toast with pie?”

Madison slid her eyes to him, her fork poised over her slice, and after a beat her lips lifted and she raised her plate, saying, “I don’t see why not.”

Nate raised his own plate, grinning, and said, “In that case: to good dessert and better company.”

Green eyes twinkling with laughter, Madison echoed his statement before finally sinking her fork into the treat. They ate their pie in companionable silence, and Madison hoped she was helping at least a little to lift his mood. But she certainly wasn’t going to stare at him in order to study his facial expressions. So she satisfied herself with the ease of the smile he’d worn a moment before and focused on finishing her dessert, all the while refusing to think about the distracted dimness in his eyes.

“That was delicious,” Nate declared after a nearly inaudible sigh as he set his fork onto his newly emptied plate a minute later. Turning an honest smile up to her, he added, “Thank you.”

Madison’s responding smile was soft and easy, her plate resting on her lap, and she said, “You’re very welcome. You were right, you know. Dessert really is better when you can share it.”

“Ready for that coffee now?” Nate asked as he pushed to his feet and held out a hand for her plate.

“Yes, please,” Madison said, handing over her borrowed plate. She told him how she preferred her coffee as he ambled back toward the kitchen, her gaze trailing after him subconsciously. She had always been drawn to leaner men, and the longer she watched him the more she was coming to believe that he might just have perfected the look. His pants actually fit him properly—a nice change from the town she’d been living in before—and his longer hair danced across the collar of his shirt in the back, softly swaying with his movements. He was much better looking than Doug.

Madison snapped her eyes shut when she realized where her mind had taken her, and she sucked in a long breath.
Don’t even go there,
she told herself firmly. But her mind really wanted to go there. Really wanted to compare the new specimen of man before her to the man she had known so intimately. Doug had been nearly a full inch shorter than her. Nate was about three inches taller. Doug had had short, light blond hair. Nate’s was long and dark. Doug’s natural expression had been neutral. Nate’s seemed to be an easy smile.
Doug is in your past,
Madison reminded herself pointedly. And that traitorous part of her mind whispered,
yes, but Nate could be in your future…

“Here you go,” Nate declared, cutting off her internal argument, as he held out a cup of freshly poured coffee. The still-steaming liquid inside was dark brown, not black, and smelled absolutely delicious.

Pulling herself into the present, Madison slapped a piece of mental duct tape over her mind and smiled up at him as she accepted the light blue ceramic. “Thank you,” she said. Her eyes flicked down to the cup and she noticed that the blue was joined by circular wisps of white. It was like a bright blue sky with just a few clouds for decoration.

“So,” Nate began as he reclaimed his seat, his own mug in hand, “how are you liking your new job so far?”

Madison lifted her eyes from the simple, yet strangely striking pattern and smiled again. “I love it,” she said truthfully. “It pays better than my last job, but more importantly I really enjoy cooking and working in a diner. I sort of feel like I’ve finally figured out where I’m supposed to be.”

“That’s good,” Nate replied, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. Grinning, he asked, “Should I plan on you being a long-term resident, then?”

Laughing through her attempts to blow on the steaming liquid, Madison said, “That might be a safe bet.”

Nate nodded, watching her with small smile as she took a tentative sip of her coffee. “Did I get it right?” he asked as she swallowed.

“Yes,” Madison assured him, meeting his eyes again.

Inclining his head, Nate lifted his own mug back to his lips.

“What about you?” Madison asked curiously, too late telling herself that maybe she shouldn’t be indulging her curiosity just yet. But she had already started, so she added, “What is it that you do, exactly?”

Grinning again, Nate let his mug rest on his knee and replied, “That depends on the time of year. During the summer months I borrow my dad’s boat and take the tourists parasailing. I figure, there’s always someone who comes to a beach so that they can fly above it, right?” He paused, shrugged, and added, “But it’s not something I do every single day, and it certainly doesn’t pay enough to qualify as a real job.”

Madison nodded as she listened. His words confirmed her building suspicions, proving that he didn’t actually work.
Still, at least it’s something.
It wasn’t like he was hurting for money, or even inconveniencing anyone, either. So she smiled and asked, “Think I could talk you into giving me a good price someday? I’ve always wanted to try parasailing.”

“I’d be happy to,” Nate declared with a laugh. “What about your family?” he asked after a beat, swallowing another, larger gulp of coffee. “Are you close?”

She hesitated now, her eyes falling to her own coffee. It wasn’t that his was a hard question to answer so much as it was potentially awkward. Her story was the kind that people judged, and she hated when people got
that
look. But he had asked, and it would be rather rude of her not to say anything, so she delayed long enough to take a fortifying swallow of her drink before she looked back into his gorgeous eyes and answered him. “I’m close with my mom. But she’s the only family I know.”

Nate looked honestly surprised. “Why?”

Madison pursed her lips for a second, but she released a breath and replied, “Mom’s parents kicked her out when she came home pregnant at sixteen. She actually spent a couple of years living with Paula’s family, which is how she and Paula know each other—and how I got the job at the diner. But for as long as I can remember it was really just me and Mom.”

“Wow,” Nate breathed. He let his eyes land on his quickly disappearing coffee, seeming to hesitate before he said, “I can’t imagine… That must have been hard.”

“It was,” Madison admitted quietly, gently sloshing her coffee around as she reflected on her childhood. There had certainly been trying times—weeks where she’d only eaten one or two meals every couple of days—but she really didn’t have a lot of bad memories about it, either. “But I think it was worth it,” she added, smiling again and lifting her eyes back to his. “I learned lessons a lot of people don’t, and I’ve just about never met anyone as close with even one of their parents as I am with my mom.”