Impulsive Connections (Elemental Bonds #2)

Prologue

E lijah held the map out in front of him so Victor could see. Smears of ash traveled across its surface, each different from the last—scores of unknown spirits haunting the forest. Some were nothing but pinpricks, motes of dust with no discernible features. Those, they’d have to ignore for now. The larger ones were more pressing.

The way they moved, the forms they took; no two were the same. A few skittered and scurried, spiders darting over the paper, making Elijah’s skin crawl with their erratic movements and alarming speed. Others flowed, cascading in sinuous waves. This one hovered lazily, an ethereal, smoky specter; that one pulsated, expanding and contracting as if it were a living, breathing organism.

They slithered like serpents, spiraled like tornadoes, wheeled like birds in the air. Half a dozen left trails of something in their wake—jagged shards, ashen residue, smudged shadows.

Elijah’s heart pounded as he traced the path of the largest spirit, all crystalline cracks and creeping devastation. The magnitude of the task ahead staggered him. There were so many of them, and no one knew what they were doing to the land.

Victor leaned in, looping an arm around his waist, and Elijah found himself melting into his touch, leaning against his muscular body. He inhaled Victor’s comforting scent, let the buzz of his energy wash over him, finding solace in the emotions and sensations that hummed through their bond.

They could do this. They’d defeated one of these things before, and they’d do it again. Whatever it took.

“You need to know what they are before you can capture them?” Victor asked.

Elijah nodded. “We have to identify them, or the sigils won’t work. Last time, we knew the spirit was rot and corruption, so Liam could create a sigil that named it. They can’t be bound without that.”

“Okay. The little ones will be difficult to find, but any leaving trails should be easier to locate.” Victor echoed Elijah’s earlier thoughts. “Let’s check out the largest, at least. This one first?” He pointed to the streak Elijah had been tracing—the shattered, cracked blotch.

“We have to start somewhere.” Elijah frowned at the map. “I wonder why some leave trails and others don’t.”

It wasn’t a matter of size. A few small spirits had ashy remnants marking their path, while most of the large ones did not.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Victor reluctantly let him go, his hand lingering on Elijah’s hip.

They headed into the forest. The scent of pine perfumed the air, mingling with the earthy smell of natural decay, welcome after the putrid stench of the rot they’d faced during the battle just days before. Sunlight filtered through a canopy ablaze with autumn colors, creating dappled patterns of light on the blanket of fallen leaves. A soft breeze rustled through the branches.

The land was as alive as it always had been, but there were scars now, areas badly damaged by the spirit they’d defeated. They passed firs and hemlocks that had toppled to the ground, hollowed out by the rot, their needles brown and gray. Others stood withered and lifeless, evidence of the destruction that had taken place.

There wasn’t much Elijah could do about that, but Aran would fix it when he arrived… ideally while staying as far from Kade as possible. The last thing Elijah needed was the inevitable, excessive dick jokes and fuckboy flirting that would arise if those two were in the same room.

But Aran had a way with plants like no one else. If anyone could salvage the trees, it was him. While he tended to the forest, Elijah, Liam, and Miles would trap the spirits. Then they’d figure out where the fuck they’d come from and how the hell to destroy them.

One might have been a fluke; dozens of them attacking Victor’s territory was not.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it…” Elijah said.

Victor sighed, following his train of thought. “I hoped banishing him would be enough. But if he’s behind this, him and that fucking mage, maybe I should have—” He cut himself off, but Elijah knew how that sentence ended.

Should have killed his own father.

In Elijah’s mind, Victor’s presence was equal parts sorrow and anger, his dark eyes stormy with turmoil. Elijah reached out and squeezed his arm. “We’ll keep that as a last resort.”

Before he could say more, a crisp polar draft hit him, like he’d walked past an open door to a shop in the middle of summer, the blast of air-conditioning a stark contrast to the sweltering heat.

He looked at Victor and got a nod. Victor had felt it too.

Elijah checked the map. They were nearing the trail left by the spirit they were tracking.

Victor jerked his head toward where the frigid gust had come from, and they veered in that direction.

From one step to the next, the temperature plummeted, drawing a shiver from Elijah. His lightweight dress shirt was doing nothing against the sudden chill.

Whatever he’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.

The forest appeared fine. Radiant autumn hues painted the trees, yet the temperature kept plunging. An icy pit formed in Elijah’s stomach, and more shivers racked his body, but there was no other sign of the spirit, only this bone-deep cold.

They continued walking until Elijah was certain he’d never experience warmth again, and then they saw it.

The fiery reds and oranges on the ground ahead of them began to shimmer, almost imperceptibly at first, but spreading, growing. A glimmering veneer coated every blade of grass, every fallen leaf.

“Winter comes early here,” Elijah said, his breath a billowing fog, “but there shouldn’t be frost yet, right?”

“Not like this.”

“They can affect the weather?” Elijah had never heard of a spirit with the ability to do that, but then, nothing about this situation could be explained by the knowledge he’d gained from his apprenticeship.

“Apparently.” Victor’s tone was terse. His presence through their bond was awash in apprehension and worry for his pack.

Autumn subsided to winter with each step they took. The frost crept up the trees, crystallizing each branch, twig, and leaf.

It should have been beautiful—a picturesque scene fit for a holiday greeting card, the hoarfrost reflecting sunlight in a dazzling dance of colors. But its unnatural, twisted splendor made it horrifying. This wasn’t the perfect stillness of a winter morning; it was a swath of frozen desolation consuming the lush forest, vibrant life suffocating under a film of glittering white. An eerie silence settled around them, the creatures in the area having long since fled.

And fuck, it was cold. Teeth-chattering, lung-burning, breath-stealing cold. Elijah trembled and quaked under its onslaught.

“Should we turn back?” Victor asked, but Elijah shook his head.

They needed to see the spirit itself, not just its aftermath.

The frost under his feet crunched. Leaves hung in suspended beauty, like delicately spun sugar that’d crumble with a touch.

Another glacial minute later, Elijah pulled up short. A thick fog floated through the trees ahead, a haze of bitter ice that sparkled with a mesmerizing, deadly allure. Disturbing energy emanated from the spirit, as malevolent as the rot before it, though this time cloaked in winter’s icy crystals and frosty tendrils.

“Can you capture it?” Victor’s words were whipped away by a piercing gust of arctic wind.

“No, I—” Elijah couldn’t get more than that out. The tremors shuddering through him were too violent for speech.

Victor grabbed him, hauling him toward safety.

It wasn’t until they were out of the spirit’s wake that Elijah started to warm. The heat of Victor’s body pressing into him eased his shaking.

“Well, that sucked,” he said, and Victor chuckled as he ran his hands over Elijah’s arms and back.

“At least I don’t feel the urge to scrub my skin raw until I’m clean.”

“Sure, frostbite and hypothermia are so much better than sludge and decay. I also don’t want to find out what happens if it possesses someone.”

If the rot spirit had corrupted Kade from the inside out, what would this do?

Victor grimaced, clearly thinking the same thing.

Elijah shivered again and used it as an opportunity to change the subject. “If my scent is wintry like you and Kade tell me, shouldn’t I be better at handling cold than this?”

“Nah. That’s from your naturally frigid bitchiness whenever you’re pissed off.”

“Thanks. Love you too, asshole.” Elijah couldn’t quite keep the fondness out of his voice.

“Wouldn’t want you to smell any other way.” Victor grinned at him. “Now, what were you saying before your fragile mage constitution stopped you from speaking?”

Elijah pinched him. “I was saying that even though we know it’s a frost spirit, I have no clue how to create a sigil to embody that, but Liam will. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll be able to make whatever sigils we need, and then we can get rid of this shit once and for all.”

Victor nodded. “So, ready for round two?”

“The last time you said that, it was significantly more fun than this is going to be.”

“Tonight.” The word was full of promise, their bond warm with affection, and Victor nipped at his ear. “But until then, which one do we track down next?”

Elijah pointed to a twisting mass of ash on the map, not too far away. “Let’s see what the fuck this is.”

Victor gave him another squeeze, then they set off together.