Lost Causes (14 page)

Sera paid no attention to the camp, only its residents. Her head was practically spinning as she catalogued every person. Most she dismissed quickly, their skin too pale or bodies too tall, but more than once she perked up at the sight of a black-haired woman, only to grimace in disappointment after a closer look. The island was full of strong fires who bore a vague resemblance to her mother.

“What about her?” I pointed to someone moving rapidly in the opposite direction. “I don’t think she’s brushed her hair in weeks. You could be related.”

Before Sera could think of a decent comeback, the woman vanished into a nearby tent. Once again, Sera’s face fell.

“Who was that?” I asked Tricia. “The woman with the dark curly hair?”

“Ani?” Vertical lines appeared between her brows. “She was the one who led us here. Do you know her?”

Sera scowled. “No. I guess not. I learned about this place from someone named Helen. Is she here?”

Tricia didn’t even consider the question. “No, sorry. There are only about forty of us, so there are no strangers. There’s no one by that name. Perhaps she was here before I arrived.”

I squeezed Sera’s hand. “We’ll learn what happened.”

Sera’s lips tightened into a thin line.

“You’ll be over here.” Tricia waved us forward.

We were given one of the sturdier camp structures. It had a wooden foundation, and heavy canvas lined the walls and formed a peaked roof. From the outside, you couldn’t see silhouettes like you could with the vinyl ones, and the opening flaps could be tied shut. It was the most privacy we could hope for.

Mac lifted a flap and peered inside. I nudged him into the tent, and the rest of us followed. Blankets folded atop thick beds of hala leaves made four distinct sleeping areas. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean.

“And the previous owners?” he asked. “Where are they?”

“Gone,” said Tricia.

“They left?” I tried not to sound too pleased that was an option. Mac’s pinch told me I wasn’t successful.

“Oh no. Why would anyone leave? People arrive. If they are welcomed, they stay. After a rich and fulfilling life, they die, as we all must.”

“When did you get here?” Luke’s voice was strained. The further removed we were from Eila’s soothing touch, the more we remembered our many reasons to be concerned.

Tricia waved the question away. “Time means nothing here, as you will soon discover. Do you have any other questions before I leave you?”

I got the feeling she hoped the answer was no.

“Yeah. The woman. The first magic. Why do you call her Eila?”

“Because that’s her name, of course.” When we looked unsatisfied, she elaborated. “She changes it when it suits her. She says she evolves too much for a single identity, so when a favorite pet dies, she takes their name for a while.”

Mac was horrified. “You’re her pets? And you don’t mind?”

“I admit it requires adjustment, but it isn’t inaccurate. To her, our minds are as simple and limited as a dog’s would be to us. Likely more so. And she cares about us and protects us as any devoted pet owner would. Give it a chance.”

She said her farewells, and then we were alone.

“We’re all squicked out by the word ‘owner,’ right?” I said.

Sera was disgusted. “I know we said we’d do anything to help Aidan, but I draw the line at fetching her slippers and newspaper.”

There was hearty agreement on that point.

The canvas roof was low enough—and I was tall enough—that I couldn’t stand upright under the peaked section of the tent. Luke and Mac also had to crouch. Only Sera was able to remain at her full height—all the better to pace the creaking wooden boards, which she started doing as soon as the flap dropped into place.

I fell onto a bed in the corner, stretching my legs before me.

“I’m not sure if this is going according to plan or not,” I said.

Mac gathered the leaves from his side of the room and hauled them to my corner, creating the island version of a double bed. I knew it was mostly due to his desire to sleep next to me, but part of me wondered if he was reminding Luke I was taken. Luke and I knew it was unnecessary, but that didn’t mean Mac had caught up with us yet.

Instead of being annoyed by the display, I was glad of it. I’d never considered that the first creatures would be sexual beings, although their unions with humans and animals were the entire reason we existed. The manner in which Eila gazed at Mac—and the expression of pure bliss she’d put on his face—told me I should rethink that opinion. Their meeting had disturbed me more than I wanted to admit. If Eila had been in the room, I’d have made a show of claiming Mac, too.

“Well, we’re here,” said Sera. “And she hasn’t killed any of us yet. It’s a start. How much time have we got before you start going mad, Luke?”

He didn’t take offense. “I should be a mess. She completely separated the threads, but I’m all right. Weaker than I would be, but…”

“You’re not hovering on the edge of madness, are you?” I finished his thought. “Same. It’s not a cure, but I feel like, so long as we’re on this island, I’ll be okay. There’s something about this place.”

“If you’re stable, we’ll stay as long as we need to.” Mac dropped his arm across my shoulders. He wasn’t staking a claim. He wanted to be near me, and it was hard to argue with that.

“Eila felt different from the other one,” I said. “I mean besides the not trying to kill us thing. She was softer. Maybe being around so many elementals makes her less homicidal.”

Sera raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. She was a regular ray of sunshine when she undid Luke’s cure and throttled you.”

“Aidan’s right,” Mac said. “She didn’t sound as harsh or smell like ozone. I don’t know what it means, but she’s different.”

The light was already fading. Though it was summer, we were too close to the equator for the extended summer days we’d find up north. “Should we look for dinner?”

No one moved. Mac pulled four papayas from his backpack, then added three passionfruit and a generous pile of mountain apples. He parceled out the feast. I didn’t miss how reluctantly he handed Luke his share.

After we ate, Luke stretched out on his bedding. A minute later, his breath was deep and even. The man definitely didn’t struggle with insomnia.

“Start trusting him,” I told the others. I whispered, though I didn’t mind if Luke overheard. “Maybe he gave us reason to doubt him, but that’s over now. He’s broken now, because of us. Yeah, he has secrets and yes, Mac, he’s hot, but that doesn’t matter to me. He’s doing what he can to help us, and I can’t think of a single selfish reason why he would. He’s here because he’s chosen to be.”

They both looked guilty. It was a start.

We talked some, but mostly we listened to the noises of camp. We picked out a few individual voices and learned what we could. There wasn’t much. The conversations were mundane and domestic. It would be easy to believe we were hanging out a campground in Tahoe. They didn’t sound like prisoners. They sounded happy, and if a few of the voices were a little shrill for true peace, I could tell myself I imagined it.

“I know I said I’m okay here.” I spoke so quietly I could barely hear myself.

“But you’re ready to go home,” Sera said. She heard it, too.

“Yeah. Your mom, a fix for me and Luke, and then we move. Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.”

As soon as I spoke the words, I knew I’d come to regret them.

CHAPTER 15

O
ur plan to find a cure right away turned out to be a little optimistic. The first morning, we learned that the tents weren’t the island’s only similarity to camp. It also featured non-stop activities from dawn to dusk.

I was an early riser, but I preferred the sky to have lightened to at least a light purple before I climbed out of bed. Tricia had no such preference, which we discovered when she woke us an hour before sunrise with a cheery smile and the promise of breakfast.

I wasn’t convinced I was even awake as we stumbled toward the largest building in camp. Though we still yawned and rubbed our eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. This was the camp’s center, which meant it was Eila’s center. The sooner I spoke to her, the sooner I could start convincing her to cure me and Luke.

My shoulders slumped in defeat as soon as we stepped inside. The tent held only elementals, who gathered around four long tables. They shared a huge fruit salad, which was to be expected from a vegetarian race stuck on a tropical island. To my horror, I saw no one drinking anything that included caffeine.

Sera whimpered next to me, noticing the same thing. “Islands full of Kona beans and they’re forcing me to drink juice.”

“It’s barbaric,” I agreed.

Tricia wisely ignored us. “We break our fast together every day.” She indicated three waters carrying bowls to the far table. “This month, it’s the waters’ turn to prepare and clean. Because you’re new, your turn won’t come until next month. For now, you can just enjoy the meal.”

Studying the room, I noticed details about the camp residents I’d missed the night before. Every type of elemental was represented. Some appeared strong enough to be nearly fulls, while others might be only twenty-five percent magic. That was more than enough to be considered an elemental, but they were weak in comparison to the others.

Most chattered happily. They were far too perky, considering the hour. There were a few quieter people, their solemn expressions a marked contrast against the cheery elementals surrounding them. One desert in particular studied Luke, and she didn’t seem to like what she saw. For the most part, though, only friendly faces smiled back at me.

Each person wore a uniform. It was a simple one, as uniforms went, made of white cotton pants, skirts, and tees. It looked both comfortable and creepy.

As horrific as it was, it was time to face facts. We were in a commune. Sure, it was led by a creature of immeasurable power rather than a man in a tie-dyed shirt, but it was still a commune.

Sera swore. “If we’re here another month, I’ll go Jonestown on them myself.”

Without her morning coffee, I feared it was a real possibility.

Tricia led us to an empty spot at one of the tables, and we slid onto the benches. I took a hesitant bite, unsure what I’d taste, but it was only fruit. Mac sniffed it, and only after his shifter’s nose agreed with me did he eat, slowly at first and then with great enthusiasm. If they were trying to appeal to him through his stomach, loading him up with fruit was the way to go.

We bolted down our food, but before we could escape, Tricia appeared out of nowhere and led us into another section of the tent. This area held primitive laundry facilities—washboards and oversized tubs. Whirlpool dryers hadn’t yet made it to the island. Here we found shelf after shelf of white clothing.

“Pants or skirt?” Tricia asked me and Sera.

We answered together. “Pants.”

She studied our bodies, then handed us two pairs of well-worn drawstring trousers. The cotton was soft and clean, though I knew we weren’t the first to wear them. There was also white cotton underwear and a basic t-shirt. Luke was given the man’s version of the same outfit. He dangled the tighty whities from one finger, looking bemused.

“Where does this come from?” I checked the shirt’s label. It was the only outside item I’d seen.

“There’s a water who handles supply runs. It helps that she doesn’t need a boat.”

Luke and I exchanged glances. If his experience was repeated here, that would be the most drugged-out resident.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to keep a boat on the island so anyone could make the run?” I asked.

Tricia was too busy sizing Mac up to respond. “I’m afraid some of the clothes will be too small for you. Eila says you may go without a shirt.”

Eila said that, did she? Sure, Mac was built more like a mountain than a man, but I’d seen a large guy among the other pets whose shirt would have fit Mac.

He took the pants without a word.

“You may shower and change in there.” Tricia pointed to a stall with a basic shower head and an even more basic drainage system, little more than a channel that sloped downward and disappeared under the edge of the tent. At least it had a worn curtain I could draw for privacy and a short wooden stool to hold my clothes and the soap and towel Tricia handed me.

“I didn’t expect indoor plumbing.” I turned the faucet. Water came out in a steady trickle, about the same temperature as the warm air.

“Not exactly,” Tricia said. “It’s gathered in a cistern outside of camp.”

It wasn’t a relaxing shower, with only a thin curtain standing between my naked body and a bunch of strangers, but it was better than nothing.

That was the best I could say about the clothes, as well. I wasn’t so endowed as to require a bra, so I discarded my worn one for the clean undershirt. The pants slid easily over my narrow hips, and the tee was too big. If someone had actively tried to make me look like a skinny boy, they couldn’t have done a much better job.

Sera had the opposite problem. Her curvy body pushed the fabric to its limits. It was tight around her hips and upper thighs, then loose in the knees and calves. The t-shirt stretched across her chest, and even through two layers I could see her black bra. Unlike me, she had something to support.

Before I could say anything, she pointed at me. “I’m still making it work.”

I scoffed. “I’m surprised they found something short enough for your itty-bitty legs.”

Mac stepped out then, and I forgot to tease. Forgot my own name, really.

Some amazing sights one can get used to with enough exposure. I never seemed to get used to Mac’s naked chest.

Each muscle was so well-defined he could serve as a model in an anatomy class. Biceps, deltoids, triceps, pectoral and abdominal muscles… they were all there, and all a bit larger than on any other man. The drawstring pants rested low on his hips, and I did my best not to follow the thin line of hair that disappeared under the waistband.

My best wasn’t very good.

Mac’s nostrils flared, the damn shifter nose picking up my interest. “Maybe I should thank Eila.”

Hearing her name pulled me from my lust-induced stupor. “When do we get to see her?” I asked.

“Eila?” Tricia shook her head. “I can’t say. No one can. She shows up when it’s time. Her presence is a gift, never an obligation.”

“Can we go to her?”

“We don’t know where she is. She may take a human shape for our benefit, but you must remember what she is. She has no home, no regular schedule. When she vanishes, I’m not even sure she retains consciousness. Perhaps she returns to pure magic. She surrounds herself with elementals, but she isn’t one of us, Aidan. Don’t ever forget that.”

If she hadn’t beamed with such joy, I’d have thought she was warning us.

For the next eight hours, we were shown how to knock coconuts from trees, how to identify poisonous plants, where to find fresh water, and where to bathe if we didn’t want to use the showers. We were introduced to every single person—none of whom were Sera’s mother—then taken through every possible chore we’d be expected to perform.

We were not, at any time, left alone.

I knew we should have been frustrated, but there was a soothing quality to the camp’s schedule. We were given jobs, we did them, and no one tried to stab us with a dart or threaten our friends. It was rather nice.

On the second day, we were separated. Luke and I were pulled to gather food and firewood while Sera and Mac were asked to repair tents. When we collapsed on our beds at the end of the day, we were all too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

The day after that, Luke and I were placed on sewing detail, mending small rips and tears in the uniforms until our fingers were sore and bloody from pricking them with needles.

Sera and Mac’s work from the previous day was judged inadequate, possibly because Mac’s stitches were crooked and uneven and Sera’s were ridiculous long loops spread an inch apart. One might think she wasn’t taking it seriously. They’d been reassigned to kitchen duty.

For three more days, we were summoned before dawn and guided through our schedule. Breakfast, then work. Lunch, then break time, during which everyone remained in the camp. Someone was always nearby, preventing any private conversations. Even when the storms came, the rain warm and heavy, no one sought shelter. The entire group sat in the rain and waited for it to pass.

When it was dry, we quietly entertained ourselves, along with the rest of the camp. There were a few old paperbacks people had brought to the island over the years, most so worn the pages threatened to fall out in your hand. I wanted to use the down time to write in my journal, but I couldn’t trust that my thoughts would remain private. The camp was too small and the residents too curious. I got excited when I found a book of word games, only to discover they’d already been filled in, most with the wrong answer. I settled for making my own crosswords and anagrams, just to have something to do while we waited for the afternoon shift to begin. Sera laughed at me for being a giant dork, but she played whatever game I created.

When our word games didn’t draw attention, we wrote notes with jumbled letters. Each day, we tried making plans. Plans to find her mother. Plans to get the cure. Plans to do anything other than work all day long. Then the afternoon shift began and whatever plan we’d been concocting fell apart.

After work, we went straight to dinner. Even if we’d had the energy to search for Sera’s mom after eating, it was already dark.

They began keeping me and Luke separate from the others. We were summoned to breakfast first and given earlier lunch breaks, so soon we only saw Mac and Sera in passing or late at night. The island’s residents remained friendly, but they kept their distance from me and Luke in a way they never did with our friends.

“Are they keeping an eye on the damned dirty duals?” I whispered to Luke one afternoon as I slid the needle through yet another tent. Somehow, we never reached the bottom of the mending pile. I was beginning to think they tore the seams every night.

Luke didn’t glance up from his neat stitches. “They’re doing something,” he said. “But damned if I know what that is.”

Before bed, we reported on the day’s progress between yawns. Sera had spoken to half the people already. None could recollect a Helen ever living with them. Somehow, she managed to stay calm, despite hitting one dead end after another. To my frustration, my day was so structured and my schedule so unforgiving that I had no opportunity to help her.

After two weeks on the island, Luke and I were no closer to a cure. The more we inquired about Eila, the more they isolated us, until we feared saying anything at all.

Sometimes, the first magic appeared during our breaks. She roamed amongst her pets, offering them quiet words or a soft touch. When her fingers stroked their skin, their eyes softened and their jaws grew slack, euphoria written across their features. Afterwards, they stared at her with reverence. Receiving magic was like a drug, Luke had said. I suspected some heroin addicts didn’t love their needle as much as these elementals worshiped Eila’s touch.

Of the four of us, she only came to Mac. His face locked as she approached, but it didn’t matter how much he hardened himself. As soon as she touched him, he was overcome by bliss. Many times, he watched her walk away. At those moments, I didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

As for the rest of us, she’d given us a taste on the beach, then appeared to forget we existed. Whenever I moved toward her, she managed to be somewhere else.

During our third week, I made a half-hearted attempt to sneak away while the others ate lunch. A young desert whose name I didn’t know caught up to me and peppered me with questions. I’d have thought it unfortunate timing, but the next day several people spread themselves around the border of the camp at regular intervals.

“Are we prisoners?”

“Of course not.” Tricia worked alongside me and Luke, as she often did. She kept her eyes on the needle as it dipped in and out of the fabric.

“Then why haven’t we been able to leave camp?”

The needle didn’t pause. It made six neat stitches before Tricia replied. “Do you wish to leave? I thought you were here to see Eila.”

“I am. We are. But she seems like a very busy first magic. Full schedule and all that.”

“You’ll see her.”

“When?” Luke asked.

Her needle dipped again. “When Eila decides. Everyone on this island shares. We give, and we receive. Right now, you only wish to receive.”

“The way you gave her your power?”

“Exactly. We each donate our magic to Eila.” There was something off. She spoke a little too fast, remained a little too interested in her stitches.

I completed a few stitches of my own. They were sloppier than my previous ones. “What does she do with those donations, exactly? She did something to the beach when we arrived.”

Tricia relaxed into a genuine smile. “Wasn’t that amazing? She feeds it into the land itself. So long as it holds enough power, only those with magic blood can find her. We’re practically invisible to humans. She hadn’t fed it that day, which was why the girl could see her.”

I spared a thought for Jet, likely still waiting on the beach for the council to return. Someone really needed to check in with her soon.

Luke grew thoughtful. “I’m guessing it gives the island some calming effects too. Aidan and I haven’t struggled with our dual natures since arriving.”

He was right, and it wasn’t only that my rage had quieted. Despite everything we needed to accomplish, all the reasons to feel anxious, our stress never lingered long. It was always replaced by a vague certainty that our problems could be dealt with the following day.