A Moonrise in the Fire, page 5
part #1 of An Element of Fire Series
I laugh in agreement.
With an iron poker, he adjusts the intensity of the flames—our only lighting in the centuries-old kitchen, because he refuses to turn on the retrofitted fluorescent lights overhead. Firelight is more appetizing, he insists.
“Do you like living in Starstone?” he asks, plating food.
I cringe, wondering if it’s an honest question or if I’m walking into a conversational trap he’s setting up to insult me. I narrow my eyes at him. No, it’s not my ideal place to live, but I consider my answer for a moment longer.
We sit side by side facing the hearth. His pale hair shines a rose-gold from the glow.
I try not to stare, but his handsomely roguish expression is intense yet playful—it entertains and draws me in. He knows he’s doing it. I know he’s doing it. So, oh-what-the-hell—we both know he’s attractive, and I’m going to look all I want.
He pounces on my hesitation. “I didn’t think it was a difficult question.”
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” I shoot back.
“Never left?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” he asks.
“That’s a longer story. Haven’t had the chance. I feel stuck and frustrated sometimes. I shouldn’t complain. I’m sorry. I should just fix it.”
“You don’t need to apologize for your feelings. They’re real to you, so they’re real to me. You’re not going to be happy all the time.”
I’m surprised at his utterly genuine response. And that he’s comfortable with my uncomfortable feelings. It’s not what I am used to.
He goes on. “Where would you go if you left?”
“Seaside, maybe?” The truth is…I don’t know.
“I grew up next to an ocean. University?”
“I’ll probably stay and run the Temple for my grandma.”
“Ah. Family duties. Loyalty over your own needs. A lack of choices. I get it.”
I sense he does somehow understand. “Your family’s like that?”
“A tale that will put you to sleep. Let’s just say you’re not alone in your situation.”
“Where would you go if you were me? What are your favorite places?”
“I’ve been everywhere. Traveled too much,” he says half-heartedly.
“Lucky.”
“It’s more about the people you’re with. The ones you care about the most.”
An honest answer? His words are at odds with the pompous act he’s displayed since we met, and yet I’m certain his sentiments are real. Fake sentiments don’t admit vulnerability or express deeper feelings. He’s let his guard down momentarily.
I test my theory. “Your own monstrous ego isn’t enough to keep you company?”
He breaks into a reckless grin. “Exactly. It’s lonely anywhere—everywhere—if you don’t have the right people in your life, those you love.”
Good answer.
He continues. “Everyone you care about is in Starstone, right?”
“I suppose.” I drop my forearms onto our little dining table and glance sideways at him. His attention trails to the hearth simmering in front of us. Even his pale cheeks bloom in the heat.
Our elbows bump, and he shifts his hand ever so slightly so the back of his well-manicured hand grazes mine.
He is strikingly warm. Feverish, even.
“Then you’re the lucky one,” he says, stock-still where we touch.
Overly hot, not just for a Fire Elemental, but for any creature. Unusual.
And pleasing.
I suddenly think of Rian and feel guilty, but I’ve had enough of feeling bad, so I push back against my thoughts.
“Love is important to you? That’s surprising for someone so jaded.” I try not to focus on the heat where our hands touch, but I fail.
In Caelan’s company, I’m not reminded of school, or my future, or the failure of who I am. I don’t even have to put on my cheery guide act and pretend to be someone else. He wouldn’t have allowed it, because he’d see right through it immediately and call me out on it. It is also shamefully comforting to know there isn’t a future with him because he’ll be leaving at the end of spring and the present is all there is.
He laughs and leans back, retracting his hand to fold his across his chest. “That’s what I’m saying.” He casts pretense aside and is genuine again, dropping the performance and the spectacle he assumes by default.
There’s heat in the truth of his words. I respond only with a nod.
He stares into the crackling, popping flames. As he exhales, the blaze roars to life, burning brighter as if from an invisible gust of wind—but it’s his control of his Element, of course. The lines between his brows vanish.
For an instant, the inky pools of his pupils expand deep and dark, and he’s seemingly forgotten I’m here. Instead, he’s lost in the spaces between the glittering sparks and the deep shadows of the log fire.
The sultry wood smoke ripples the scent of burnt toast, roasted chestnuts, wild sage, smoked hickory—reminding me why autumn is my absolute favorite season. The warm aromas brilliantly contrast with the fog and rain and chill.
He rubs his chest absently. “Would be easier if it weren’t true.” With his fork, he jabs at the leftovers on his plate. Then, as if realizing he’s let his guard down, he blinks twice and his eyes flare a brilliant honey-gold again. He’s diabolically cheerful and on the verge of saying something pompous. His personality is growing on me.
He nudges me with his elbow as his face spreads into a grin, his charm returning. “So, best meal of your life?”
Cocky, right on cue.
“Fabulous. Truly.”
The food was good, but I meant the company more than anything.
It’s only temporary, though, I tell myself. Too bad he belongs elsewhere, like everyone else.
I thank him for sharing his dinner, and he walks me to the doorway.
His matching set of suitcases still sits unpacked in the foyer.
“Not staying for long?” I ask wryly.
“I’ve unpacked my clothes. Those are my weaponry.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking again. He’s revealed little about his life and family so far.
He takes my silence as judgment and laughs.
“I’m not violent or anything. My father collects ancient weapons, and every year on my birthday, he hands one down.”
“And…they’ll help you pass your courses this year?” I snark, unable to help myself.
He flaunts a wicked grin, clearly enjoying my audacity. “No, I was going to donate them to the Temple for decoration when I go on. Some of them are from the same time period, a few are very valuable, and all of them are one-of-a-kind.”
I hear all that, but fixate on the one detail he glosses over. “Go on where?”
“Bigger and better,” he says. “I can’t tell you all my grand plans in one night. You’re going to have to come back if you want to know more.”
“Well, where will we put all these weapons?”
“Temples like these always have a weapons room.”
“Starstone doesn’t.”
“Are you sure? What’s behind the locked door next to the altar?”
“There’s no door there.”
He strides down the hall and points through the double doors of the main room of Starstone, past dark wood walls and carved beams, up three steps leading to a stage-like altar. Except tonight, like no other day or night before it—there is a short, narrow door on the right-hand side of the altar.
“What the—?” I don’t recognize the too-high voice that comes out of me.
“It’s locked, though. You’re saying you’ve never seen this door here before?”
I rack my brain, my thoughts untethered. I remain locked in place, tongue-tied.
“How?” I’ve lost all capacity to disguise my shock; my mouth hangs open, and I’m certain I haven’t blinked in a while.
“Do you have any master keys?” He’s calm.
“To the bedrooms and main gate, yes,” I babble, completely baffled.
“Shall we?”
“But…”
“Why not?” Casual and cool. “We’ve eaten, and there’s nothing else to do,” he quips, adjusting his collar.
My gut seizes, and I’m afraid that meal might make its way back up. How he can joke right now is beyond me. Are mysteriously appearing doors not shocking to him, or does he think I don’t know my own temple and never noticed the door?
How is this possible? Was there a tapestry or scroll hiding it before? No, the walls aren’t missing anything, and nothing looks different—except a damn door appeared out of nowhere.
I conceal my nerves and shuffle back into the hallway to root around in my bag for the master key. Caelan scrutinizes me upon my return, as if I’m pretending like I’ve never seen the door before just to be dramatic.
Despite shaky hands, I climb the three steps to the altar and insert the key.
I don’t know why, but I hold my breath when I lean in, as though the air could be unsafe in there. I’m careful not to cross the threshold.
The exact same altar as the one we stand on exists on the other side of the doorway. Not possible.
The entire Temple exists on the other side. A mirror reflection, but real.
I stare dumbly, the blood in my veins stone cold.
Swallowing down a big gulp of air, I instinctively begin to pull the door shut.
“Wait. Don’t you want to go in?” Caelan asks, trying to peer around me. The door is my height, and I’m blocking his view as he towers over me. I elbow him backward and step back, closing the door abruptly.
“What’s happening?” Caelan asks.
I dig my nails into my palms so he doesn’t see my hands shaking. “This is impossible.” My thoughts are thrown into confusion.
“What is?”
I stare at him, wide-eyed in bewilderment, panic rising.
Holy crap.
I barely get out my next words. “I think it’s some sort of gateway. To an alternate version of the world we’re in.”
“How do you know it’s not just another part of Starstone?” he asks.
“Because it’s exactly the same. Down to the same old candles, the cat candle I placed one Halloween and the same cracked tile I try to never step on.” I scanned the other side in shock but checked for details like that because, unlike him, I’m certain this door was never here before.
“Shouldn’t we take a closer look?”
“No. I swear, nothing was here before. This can’t be real.” And if it is, it can’t be safe. I need to take charge. It’s my Temple.
I drop the key into my pants pocket and forbid him from trying to enter, promising to figure it out tomorrow after classes. Maybe I could get information out of Grams, anything at all.
I walk home in the dark, barely noticing the ghostly evening fog swirling around me like smoke billowing off a snuffed candle. My pulse throbs wildly in my chest. Not because I am afraid of the not-so-distant howling from the woods along the unlit path on a moonless night.
Rather, my pulse throbs wildly because I have no idea what to do, and I can’t think of a single soul alive who can help me. I brace a hand on a lamppost.
The door appeared out of nowhere. Of that, I am certain.
An owl hoots four times from atop a pointy evergreen. I gulp a ragged inhale and shiver in the cold, nebulous night.
How or why there could be a gateway to another temple, another place, I have no answer. A door. To another world. I am certain it’s a doorway to another world because through the old circular temple windows on the other side, it was stark daylight—the silver sunbeams angled in like they do here mid-morning. But most telling of all, through those windows there was no sign of the woods, not a single silhouette of a tree. It’s definitely not Starstone. I mean, all we have here is forest. I automatically check my back pocket for my small notebook.
Wallace, we aren’t in the Violet Wilds anymore.
Caelan prowls my dreams that night. His pale moonlight hair glints from the Temple’s deepest shadows. The honey-gold flecks in his irises emerge from the flames of the hearth.
His disastrous, unholy grin.
The door.
He was ready to wander into the unknown in an instant. Who went into these things with such careless indifference?
But I’m on time this morning, trudging to the bus stop with my head down, both in thought and in search of skulls along the dirt path. A mustard-yellow cardigan keeps me warm over a white vintage-necked blouse, brown pants, and my favorite cowboy boots again. Wallace is tucked under my arm. The icy wind billowing from Wolf’s Head Fjord into the Violet Wilds belongs only to the shorter, darker days of autumn.
Grams didn’t respond when asked about the extra door, and there’s nothing in the history of Starstone referring to a secret door. All the hidden passageways were recorded long ago. How am I supposed to know what to do? For god’s sake—I’m just a shorter-than-average girl with no Element who collects animal skulls and jots down quotes.
The door must be some kind of optical illusion, a mirror trick, or a strange mistake of my vision.
Even now, I don’t quite believe what I’m seeing coming toward me down the road.
Meatball.
Rian’s car. He’s going to offer me a ride. Did he ignore my request not to pick me up for school? It seems like him to overlook the stab at his heart and pretend the breakup didn’t happen.
My stomach drops. Part of me misses him and wants to be with him again. If he shows up now, I will give in and want to get back together. But nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned. He’s better off without me holding him back from a better future.
I tell myself to stay strong—that what I miss is the closeness and the distraction that let me pretend I could be like everyone else when I was with him.
This is going to be dreadfully sad and awkward. We haven’t talked in two days. The only other time we didn’t talk for two days was when he went to baseball camp. Oh wait, no—never mind. He always called.
I wave, hesitant. The red car approaches faster than usual, but my hand drops abruptly as the driver swerves into a half-spin and halts inches from my knees.
Rian would never drive like this. I stumble backward, fanning dust from my face.
It’s Caelan.
He motions for me to get in, shoving open the passenger door from the inside. “We need to go.”
His audacity shocks me. “You stole Meatball?” I mutter under my breath. This is bad. Rian doesn’t even let me drive—
“Now, Talvi!” he commands in a resonant tone that suggests he’s used to people obeying him.
“No.”
“No?” A look of irritation. He doesn’t understand being denied.
“Where’s Rian? Why Meatball—his car—?” I fumble to string together coherent words.
“They’ve taken him.”
“They…who?”
“We might still catch them if we hurry. Rian’s been kidnapped.”
“That’s not funny. I don’t believe you.” This has to be a cruel joke. Caelan doesn’t seem to follow the rules on a good day, but stealing a car and lying to me about Rian? A little too unpredictable. Less rebellious, more unhinged.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. Please get in.”
What do I do? My heart races as fast as my thoughts spin and I’m ready to retreat and run the other way.
I shift Wallace from under my arm. “Swear on Wallace that you’re not lying. Say it.” I click a pen, ready to write. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism or what, but I’ve had enough of new, confusing developments in my life in the last few days and this is what I come up with.
“What are you doing? Is that a diary?” He prods gently at the book in my hands.
I back away. “Like your hair: don’t touch the Wallace.”
“I’m serious—get in. I’m only going to say this one more time.” His voice is as venomous as his face is grave. “Rian’s about to be winnowed away, and we might have a chance if you hurry your little butt in the car. I need you,” he snarls, impatiently revving the engine.
“Say it.”
“What the fuck.” Caelan’s silvery bangs flip to one side as he cocks his head to scrutinize my notebook. “Hello, Wallace. I swear that I am not lying about Rian being kidnapped.”
I scribble it onto a blank page and reluctantly lower myself into the passenger seat.
I have no idea if I can trust Caelan. And his outrageous claim? Who would kidnap Rian? He’ll be beyond furious his car was taken for a joyride.
At least if I’m kidnapped or someone finds my book, it will be known—
“I swear that I am not lying about Rian being kidnapped.” —Caelan, Starstone guest, Monday, October 12th.
I’m halfway in my seat when he releases the brake. The engine ripples and growls, and we spin around as he reverses direction. Rian’s car flies off the dirt lane and accelerates up the road edged with foliage blurring by in crimson and mustard flashes.
“Explain. Now,” I demand. The top is down, and my voice is carried away as I cling to the door with one hand.
“I was heading to the bus stop and Rian stopped to offer me a ride. A tentacled Wight took him.
“A tentacled…what?”
“Maybe. I dunno. I’m not sure what it was.”
We spin around another corner, heading into curving highway along Winterrock Gulch, a steep ravine that cuts through the dense forest of our province. The morning fog hasn’t lifted, and I huff breaths of silvery vapor.
“There! Do you see that ahead? Along the trees?” Caelan says.
“A whirlwind of leaves? Yes.”
“No, really look. It’s not leaves.”
The brown leaves are the same color as Rian’s hair. Two figures move swiftly, intertwined like a tornado spinning, tall as the evergreen trees. Entangled in a grasp of tentacles, Rian struggles with what appears to be a giant squid. The way things have been going, I am not surprised in the least. Of course I am, but at this point I think I must be in a fever dream.
