Elemental Reality

Elemental

Reality

cesya marae cuono

book one

An Elemental Novel

Revolution Publishing Inc.

Kentucky, U.S.A.

Elemental Reality

Copyright © 2011 by Cesya MaRae Cuono

Copyright © 2011 Revolution Publishing Incorporated

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Revolution’s books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Revolution Publishing Inc.

http://revolutionpublish.com

[email protected]

Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ELEMENTAL REALITY

(Elemental, #1)

Front cover artwork by Laura Kreitzer

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011935530

ISBN: 9780983353713

Printed in the United States of America

In memory of Didi

August 27, 2009

&

Aunt Sue

January 2, 2011

Thank you. Because I didn’t say it enough.

And to Baba

May 19, 2011

For being proud of me.

Your copy of my first novel will be saved forever.

Elemental

Reality

This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it, human and otherwise, are imaginary, excepting only certain of the fairy folk, whom it might be unwise to offend by casting doubts on their existence. Or lack thereof.

Neil Gaiman

1

Loss and Unhappy

Birthdays

Once upon a time there was a man and woman who loved each other unconditionally. They were blessed with two beautiful daughters. Their life was perfect and everyone envied them. Sounds like the perfect fairytale, but there was no “happily ever after” for this family. Their ending was laced with loss and heartache. What happened to those left behind? Well, that’s where the story begins.

Happy birthday to me. It was ironic considering the last “happy birthday” I could remember was twelve years ago before Mom left. After all that time you’d think I’d get over the fact she was never coming back. It didn’t matter; losing her was something I wasn’t capable of accepting. Years of searching for her had landed me with absolutely nothing. I’d given up my search two years ago when I realized the reason she wasn’t findable might be because she was dead, and my mind couldn’t handle that reality.

I sat on my bed and stared at a withered picture with worn and faded edges. It was one of the last pictures taken of us as a complete family five months before Mom left. It lay on the floor in the kitchen when we arrived back from our birthday outing twelve years ago. I ran my fingertips over her face in the picture. My mother was so beautiful. She had amazing steel-colored eyes—just like mine—surrounded by long, dark lashes. According to Dad her eyes shifted in color depending on the seasons. Her curly, dirty-blonde hair and pale skin glowed with content, and her white smile was full of pride. My sister Lola inherited her pouty lips that required no lipstick, but she resembled Dad’s graceful features. Me? I looked just like Mom. Or so Dad says.

Why did you leave us, Mom? Weren’t we your angels? No matter how many years pass, the hurt never goes away. If she had left any other day I might have been able to forget the heartache as the years bore on, but because it was my birthday I would
never
forget. I placed the picture back on my nightstand and crawled back under the protective confines of my comforter. It was already late in the afternoon, but I really wanted to sleep right through my birthday and the heartache.

With my eyes squeezed shut I tried to trick my body into sleep. I wanted to have that awesome dream again where I had wings, and when I was upset I could just fly away. The same dream had reoccurred every night since the beginning of October. And each time I swore it had changed me. My senses of the earthly elements were heightened with each passing dream. When I would walk outside, the aroma of the woods around me intensified. I inhaled the fragrance of bark and leaves on the trees, the heady scent of the earthy forest floor, and the sweet bouquet of flowers blooming. It was as if I could smell the essence of nature. And that was only my nose. My body was on overdrive. I detected rain clouds before they ever formed in the sky and could hear the wind blowing before it announced its presence by swaying the trees. Heat was the worst. On clear nights my family would sometimes sit around a stone fire pit in our yard and gaze at the stars. Now I was too sensitive to the heat and couldn’t participate. I could feel it the moment I walked out the patio door, which was a hundred feet away. And who knew how many times I was zapped while plugging something in. It was as if the electricity from the outlets was out to get me. But I never told a soul. They would think I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy.

I should be frightened of these changes, but I wasn’t. In a way it made me feel special. Unique. I thought maybe I was just like Dad. Could it be possible that he was able to hide ultra sensitivity with ease? But he didn’t seem to have a problem sitting by the fire. Neither did Lola. Maybe I was like Mom. Maybe that’s why she left: afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle me being like her or in fear I wouldn’t accept her because of whatever it was she passed along to me. Or I just imagined everything. The dream along with my birthday made my brain go all zombie. Recently, the majority of my work-free days I had spent alone with a fantasy novel, and it was taking its toll.

Someone knocked on my door, soft enough it wouldn’t have woken me up but loud enough to pull me from my thoughts.

“Callie?” It was Dad. “Baby, please don’t sit alone in your room all day.” His voice was full of sympathy. “I know this is never an easy day.” He sighed. “I’ll make some dinner. How about you come down and eat with us?”

Losing Mom had taken an even larger toll on him than it had on me, so I caved. I’d do anything to attempt to make him happy. I crawled out from under my comforter and slid my feet into my favorite slippers. They were hot pink rubber duckies with black polka dots. A little worn out, but I didn’t care. Lola bought them for me because they were unique, just like me, and hot pink was my favorite.

“I’ll be right down,” I said.

He murmured a concerned “thank you” before I heard him head down the stairs.

It was either wallow in self-pity or join the real world. Before I headed down, I checked myself in the mirror. My family had seen my just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance often, as it was my signature style. Regardless, I was thankful for the forethought when I caught my reflection. Did my pillows attack? My hair had gone all Medusa, and my eyes were puffy. I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, straightened my tank top, and turned around to make sure my butt wasn’t hanging out of my pink “Rock On!” pajama shorts. Had to show some sort of decency if people would see me in this state. With a sigh I left the safety of my bedroom and descended the stairs.

In the kitchen, the scent of red velvet cake, cream cheese icing, and baking lasagna mingled together. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Red velvet cake was my ultimate downfall. If for some unknown reason I wound up in the middle of nowhere, Africa and had to choose between two paths: safety or a giant red velvet cake surrounded by a pack of rabid hyenas approaching it, I’d choose the cake. In that millisecond of dire need for velvety cake, I’d become the vicious predator, and the hyenas would cower like puppies being scolded. I licked my lips and opened my eyes. My jaw went slack at the sight before me. The island in our kitchen was stacked with presents, and in the middle was my red velvet cake adorned with twenty-two black-, white-, and silver-glittered candles. The frosting was hot pink with black polka dots, and mini sparkly silver pompoms stuck out of the top. My two best friends stepped between the drool-worthy cake and me. Elation was the only reason I hadn’t gone all Rambo on them. Ady and Emery beamed. Even Lola was here.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted.

“Are you surprised?” Ady trilled excitedly before I could comprehend that they did all of this for me.

They had never thrown a surprise party for me before, and I was truly grateful for it. Even a tad thrilled. Still, I couldn’t help the tinge of sadness that crept its way inside me. There was one person who was eternally missing from the crowd. No amount of presents, cake, or best friends would fix the gaping hole my mom left.

I gave Ady a genuine smile, pushing those not-so-sunny thoughts away. “Is the ocean blue? Of course I’m surprised. Though I wish
someone
”—I shot Dad a joking glare—“would have warned me to dress and comb my hair.” I smoothed back my hair, knowing even the tie wouldn’t prevent my hair from looking like snakes ready to strike.

“No one cares what you’re wearing. Sit so we can sing.” Ady gestured toward the stool in front of the cake. She appeared pleased with herself, especially after all the years of her failed attempts to cheer me up. I mean, how could she have known I was allergic to horses that one year? I didn’t even know until I became Rash Girl and had to be rushed to the ER when it was hard to breathe.

Taking a seat, the letters of white icing caught my eye. It read “Happy 21st” in professional icing-writing and “. . . again” clearly done with Ady’s unprofessional penmanship.

“So you really were serious about this?” I asked in amusement.

She nodded, cheesing. Last year Ady decided we would never grow older than twenty-one, especially since she’d be forever older than me.

“If you ask me to get plastic surgery, you’re on your own,” I replied with a laugh.

“You’ll change your mind when you go all Shar Pei,” she said as she pulled something from her pocket. Before I could register what it was, Ady flicked her thumb over it, and a tiny flame rose into the air. A lighter. Crap. It was as if the world had gone all slow motion as the full consequences of her actions lashed out at me. I was sucker punched by a fiery fist and literally flew backwards off the stool to land on my back. What the hell happened? The tingle of heat ebbed and flowed through me before it vanished. Weird. My eyes shifted around the room at the concerned gazes that stared back at me. Thankfully, I startled Ady enough the flame went out, and her hand withdrew from the candles.

“I did that on purpose.” I forced a smile. I scrambled to my feet and brushed myself off.

With all eyes on me, I rushed for a plausible excuse for my reactions, but they started to laugh at my witty response.

“Can we just not light the candles?” I said when their chortling dropped off. “Lighting them makes it official, and we’re staying twenty-one, remember?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together for a few seconds then relaxed. “Sure thing, Cali-girl.”

One of the things I loved about Ady was she never questioned my actions on my birthday. I could go all stripper fun, and she’d not utter a single word in protest. I’ve known her and Emery since kindergarten. Because we had an even amount of students, the teacher thought it’d be a wise idea to place us each with a buddy for the school year. Unfortunately, my buddy was an obnoxious kid who hated me for no reason I could tell. He didn’t even talk to me, which, if you asked me, was very unbuddy-like. Luckily I wasn’t the only one who had buddy problems. A girl named Adele Meyers was paired with the grossest boy in the whole class. Poor girl had to deal with the booger-eater who told her they tasted like salty pickles. And just like in good old Ady fashion, she put up a fight and demanded a new buddy. Knowing I was having issues too, she ordered to be placed with me because I seemed “awesome.” She was the reason we became friends. She was demanding—and I loved her for it—but she also had a deeper understanding when it came to my mom.

“Do you remember when we first met?” I asked. “And then a month later Emery showed up?”

“Of course I do. I fell in love with Emery the first time I saw him.” She gazed up at him with affection.

“You were only five!” I laughed.

Unperturbed, she continued. “It wasn’t just the fact he was missing his two front teeth either, because I still chased after him. Subtly, of course. I almost gave up and was going to ask you out myself.” She poked Emery in the stomach, and he jerked, ticklish.

“You weren’t very subtle, baby,” admitted Emery. “I knew what you were doing. I wasn’t ready for a relationship—”

I cut him off. “Especially since you were five?” We all laughed.

The first month of kindergarten was great until a new student showed up and was immediately thrown into our little bubble. His name was Emery Jones. Mr. and Mrs. Scott Jones, the richest people in Ardmore, adopted him. He walked over to our table and sat down. He had messy, medium brown hair with a patch of grey (his birthmark), and brown eyes that had shifted between us uncomfortably. We introduced ourselves and broke the ice. He gave us this huge smile, minus his two front teeth. Ady fell in love, and I had two best friends. Our friendship never faltered throughout elementary, middle, or high school. Sexual tensions between Ady and Emery were always high, but it wasn’t until after our senior graduation ceremony that Emery asked her out. They’d been a couple ever since, but the bond between the three of us never changed.