Chapter 11
Nell
Colt devours his third plate of chocolate pancakes while I play with mine, still unable to get the too-real memories of my dream out of my head.
“So...” Colt begins, talking with his mouth full. “Are you still seeing that girl from Estonia? The tall blonde who looks like a model.”
I almost choke on my coffee.
“Sylara,” I murmur, trying to maintain a casual tone. “Yeah, now and then.”
“There's something weird about her. Haven't you noticed?” he adds, frowning. “I don't know how to explain it, but she doesn't seem... completely normal.”
I can't help but laugh. If he only knew...
“Define 'normal,'” I respond. “Do you know any of our friends who are?”
Colt opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of the doorbell interrupts us.
My heart skips several beats when, upon opening it, I find myself face to face with precisely Sylara.
The elf smiles slightly upon seeing me, as perfect as always.
In a light green dress that enhances her slender figure and pale skin.
Her braid rests today over her left shoulder, and her hair is arranged so that her pointed ears remain hidden.
In my mind, however, fragments of the dream return without permission. The scent of damp earth. Vines holding my wrists while she...
I shake my head. Not the time...
“Good morning, Nell,” she greets with that voice that seems to caress the air. “Do you have a little free time? There's something I'd like to show you.”
I swallow with difficulty, shaking my head to banish the images from the dream with her perfect naked body on top of mine.
“Sure, I...” I begin, though I feel Colt's presence right behind me.
“Hello again, Sylara.”
He greets with a tone that tries to sound friendly but doesn't hide his distrust.
The elf inclines her head slightly, a gesture I'm sure no human could replicate with such elegance.
I notice Colt watching her with curiosity, as if trying to figure out what there is about her that he finds so strange.
“Nell was about to make more pancakes,” he protests, pointing toward the kitchen.
I prefer not to respond, roll my eyes, and grab Sylara by the arm, closing the door behind us.
“Your brother doesn't trust me,” she observes as we go down the stairs.
“He's not exactly my brother, but yes, Colt doesn't trust anyone,” I respond. “It's part of his charm. Where are we going?”
“To the pier,” she responds briefly.
“The pier? Why?”
A mysterious smile forms on her lips.
“You'll see,” she whispers with a wink that makes my knees tremble.
**
Despite being almost ten in the morning, the pier is full of activity: fishermen unloading the last catches of the day, tourists strolling, street vendors offering souvenirs. Sylara doesn't stop, we keep walking until we reach an ice cream stand.
“Ice cream at this hour?” I ask, surprised.
“Why not? Sometimes, small pleasures are the best way to start the day.”
Without even asking me, she orders two chocolate ones. My favorite.
“I don't remember telling you anything about my tastes. How did you know?” I ask, intrigued.
“Intuition,” she responds, giving a very slow lick to her ice cream with her flat tongue that manages to make me tremble.
Damn dream that won't let me think clearly.
“Okay, Sylara, what are we really doing here?” I ask, trying to focus. “I doubt you brought me to the pier just to eat ice cream. Not that I'm complaining, huh? But it's weird.”
The elf points with her chin toward an old abandoned warehouse at the end of the pier.
“You need to practice your magic in a controlled environment,” she explains. “That place has been empty for years. It's discreet, and it's isolated enough so you can experiment without fear of hurting anyone.”
The building is an imposing structure of rusted metal and broken glass. Possibly, the elf is right, and it's been abandoned for decades. However, when she pushes the door, it opens without the slightest creak.
“Do you come here often?” I ask, noticing that the interior, though dusty, is relatively clear, as if someone cleaned it from time to time.
“Sometimes,” she admits. “It's a good place to practice earth magic without attracting attention. It's harder to do it in the city than in the forest, you know?”
I just nod while observing the old warehouse. It's enormous, with a high ceiling from which old industrial lamps hang. Light filters through dirty windows, creating strange patterns of shadows on the cracked cement floor. Between the cracks, small plants struggle to survive.
“Well,” the elf announces, taking off her jacket and leaving it impeccably folded on a box. “Let's begin.”
“Begin with what exactly?”
“Basic defense,” she responds, and unexpectedly, throws a handful of dirt at my face.
Instinctively, I raise my hands and a gust of wind deflects it, sending it back toward Sylara, who dodges it with elegance.
“Good reflexes,” she admits. “But too instinctive. You need to learn to channel your power consciously, not just when you feel threatened.”
For the next hour, she guides me through basic control exercises: how to feel the air around me, how to direct it with precision, or create small currents to deflect objects. It's frustrating at first, though little by little I begin to understand the logic behind each gesture.
“Air responds to your emotions,” she explains, while watching me create a small sphere of compressed air. “It's your ally, not your servant. You have to learn to flow with it, not dominate it.”
She's remained completely still again, and I think I'm starting to understand. Elves listen with their whole body.
“You sound like that book,” I protest, letting the sphere dissipate. “All that philosophical stuff about flowing with the element instead of controlling it.”
“Because it's the truth,” she sighs, and the smile she gives me next makes my heart skip several beats. “The most powerful elementals are those who understand that their power isn't really theirs, but of the element they channel.”
I roll my eyes while shaking my head.
“Very poetic and all, but I prefer practical results.”
“Like this?”
Before I can react, small vines sprout from the cracked ground, snaking toward my ankles.
Maybe under normal conditions I would have had time to react. But those vines... shit, they remind me too much of the dream. The sensation of being held by the wrists, immobilized, while Sylara positioned herself on top of me and...
I shake my head. No. I'm not going to think about that now.
“That's cheating!” I sigh, no longer offering any resistance as the plants hold me against the ground.
Sylara looks at me while I'm lying down and now held by feet and hands by the vines, and instinctively bites her lower lip. Shit, I wonder if she's also had a dream similar to mine.
“In a real fight, there are no rules,” she responds, shaking her head as if wanting to remove from her mind some thought she shouldn't be having.
As soon as she releases me, I launch myself toward her, using the air to propel myself. The elf seems surprised by a frontal attack, though she recovers quickly. New vines emerge from the ground and try to trap me, but I dodge them with a series of movements I never thought I could execute.
Soon, we face each other in a strange dance. She manipulates earth and plants, I dodge and counterattack with gusts of wind. At one point, she takes me down and positions herself on top of me, immobilizing me.
Our lips remain inches apart. I can feel her breath, smell her scent. Her eyes lock onto mine and, for an instant, I'm sure I see in them the same desire I saw in my dream.
But in that instant of distraction, I feel something wrapping around my wrists and ankles. Before I can react, I find myself again completely immobilized by vines that have grown at an impossible speed.
“Never get distracted in a battle,” she whispers in my ear, making my skin break out in goosebumps.
“Kiss me, damn it. Don't you dare leave me like this,” I murmur with labored breathing, creating a strange air current around us.
She seems to hesitate for the briefest instant, but soon composes herself.
“It's better that I don't,” she sighs, placing her right hand on my chest, while both the air current and the vines vanish.
Part of me almost feels relieved. Not because I don't want to kiss her. Fuck, of course I want to, I'm dying to, but I'm not sure that what I feel is... totally mine. Kaelisar's voice in my dream keeps driving me crazy: “Is this what you want, or what I want you to want?”
“How did you do that? The air thing, I mean. You can't control it... Or can you?”
“I have centuries of experience, Nell,” she responds with an almost sad smile. “I've fought against very powerful air elementals.”
She helps me to my feet, and I'd swear that her touch on my hand sends small electric shocks through my whole body, especially between my legs.
“You did very well for your first practical session,” she congratulates me. “You have a natural talent that makes me doubt you're only half Fae.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I respond, trying to ignore the tingling I feel in the lower part of my belly or the heat in my cheeks. “Though I still don't see how this will help me steal a magic arrow from a high-tech safe.”
“It's not just about stealing the arrow, Nell,” she explains calmly. “It's about keeping you alive afterward. Kaelisar isn't the only dangerous being in this city, and once you get involved in the magical world, there's no turning back.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that all of us will work with you to prepare you as best as possible,” she states. “Tonight you'll practice with Althea, and tomorrow with Sabina. You need to understand how the other elements work to be able to defend yourself against them.”
“It won't be necessary. As soon as we finish this job, I'll return to my normal life. That's what we agreed with that demented king.”
Again, she gives me a sad smile. So sad, it makes me wonder how long she's been forced to work for that dangerous lunatic and the things she must have had to do.
“You're naive if you think Kaelisar will let you go that easily,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and letting out a long sigh. “He won't release someone with your potential unless you're no longer useful to him.”
“I'm not going to be his slave,” I growl. “I'll find a way to get rid of him if necessary.”
“I wish you luck, then. You'll need it.”