The Gray Prophecy (The Elemental Realm #1)
1. Cori
Cori
T he winter solstice was 102 days away. Cori’s tattered journal was stained with coffee rings and creased in the corners from being repeatedly pushed into her purse. She picked it up from the passenger seat and ran her thumb over the cover illustration of the Golden Gate Bridge before turning to the first page.
Dear Starlight,
I hope this diary will remind you of home.
-Mama
Beneath her mother’s twirly script, Cori had started her countdown from 3,401.
She turned to the back cover, where a photograph was tucked neatly behind a paper clip. A man in a leather jacket stood hand in hand with a small boy on the steps of a trolley.
His mouth was curled up slightly, as though he were about to tell a witty joke. Beside him, the little boy beamed so brightly at the camera, the word cheese practically echoed off the glossy paper.
It was late afternoon when she finally pulled into the gravel parking lot. She loathed being late, and being late on her first day made her want to vomit. Her mother’s handwriting was a reassuring hand on her shoulder, smeared ink on the page whispering in soothing tones from three thousand miles away.
Puffing out a resigned breath that freed the wavy wisps of stray hair from her forehead, she carefully tucked the notebook back into her purse.
Three tattered canvas duffel bags were shoved into the back of her woebegone Volkswagen Golf, containing all her worldly possessions. She straightened her spine and righted herself, attempting to balance a bag full of her research binders and ocean gear on her shoulder without falling face first onto the pavement.
An impressive building stood at the edge of the parking lot, an amalgam of a barn and a factory. Beyond it, a narrow strip of sand was lined with neat rows of brightly colored houses.
As the shore curved to the north, a haphazard collection of flat, steep cliffs sparked with light, like candles dancing in the salty mist.
Small town. Remote location. Perfect place to hide.
She tightened the laces of her duck boots and rearranged the bag over her shoulder once more before treading to the entrance. A foghorn sounded in the distance, and a nostalgic ache echoed through her chest.
Thick air laced with salt, gasoline, and sea-washed sweat wrapped around her as she entered the building, where busy crews hauled nets and motor parts through a bustling, open-air wharf.
“There she is,” a familiar raspy voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.
“Anne!” Cori threw down her bags and pulled her former professor into a hug. “I’m so sorry I’m late. When I left New Haven this morning, the map said it would take seven hours, but?—”
Anne dismissively waved her hand before grabbing one of her bags. “Don’t worry. The drive up here can be rough on a Friday afternoon. ”
Cori hastily smoothed her hair into a ponytail before following Anne up the stairs where modern glass office windows on the second floor struck a pleasing contrast to the worn plank walls below.
“I’m so glad you’re finally joining us, Cori,” Anne said as they reached the end of the hallway. Her bracelets jangled together as she opened the door with a flourish. “The office is a bit basic compared to the ecology labs at Yale, but it’s got its own charm.”
A desk near the front entrance held a steaming cup of black coffee and a tackle box labeled with Cori’s name. Ceramic cats, like the ones she used to see in Chinatown, bobbed kinetic paws behind a tidy pile of notebooks.
“Jordan’s been working all day putting together some gear for you,” Anne said.
On cue, a stunning man with ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and nails painted in an iridescent violet hue strode around the corner. “Anne, I swear. If those assholes in the governor’s office send me one more angry email, I’m going to hike into Augusta, just so I can shove my boot—This must be Dr. Evans.” His hand rose to cover his mouth. “I’m sorry you had to see me on a tirade. Your first impression of me is probably ruined forever.”
“Jordan runs this place. He’s the operations manager I told you about,” Anne said.
Cori nodded, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. Jordan smiled at her expectantly, his posture tall and confident. In this tiny office, something told her she wouldn’t get away with hiding behind a microscope all day. Suddenly her throat dried, like clay left in the sun.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Jordan shrugged. “You didn’t miss much. We’ve spent all day dealing with a broken boat. Maybe you can take a look at it. Anne mentioned you had a mechanical mind. Unlike your predecessor,” he paused with an eye roll, “who barely knew how to put the key in the engine. ”
Anne pursed her lips at him. “You were always so hard on Adam. He was just a bit?—”
“…chamomile?” Jordan finished for her.
Cori laughed awkwardly at their exchange. Adam may have been inept at his job, but acting like a bland cup of decaffeinated tea in a world of caramel macchiato happened to be Cori’s go-to move. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat as her fingers drifted habitually to the charm bracelet on her wrist.
“I’ll show you the lab,” Anne said.
The three of them picked up her things and turned a corner to a tidy little room around the back of Jordan’s work area.
A large picture window looked out to sea, bathing the room with the warm amber glow of the sun dipping behind the trees. The picturesque cliffs she had noticed on her arrival loomed majestically over a sparkling little town. Waves glimmered like constellations of stars, crashing on the rocks.
“Not a bad view,” Anne mused. “Better than the dumpsters behind the engineering building in New Haven.”
Cori nodded in agreement as she took in the vista. The window faced north, an ideal position for viewing the night sky. Something deep in her gut stirred.
She clenched her jaw, pushing down the rising sensation in the chest. Not here. Not now .
She was far too close to the solstice to let that part of herself resurface.
“If you’re finished staring out the window, I can show you the boat.” Jordan said.
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Absolutely,” she said with a determined nod of her head. She set off after him, shaking off the feeling of unease.
“This building used to be a boat-servicing wharf,” Jordan explained as they strode down the stairs. “That’s why it gives off such industrial vibes. A few years ago, the town got some funds with a research grant from the state to remodel. There was a contingency that allowed environmental scientists to set up shop here if the crews in residence agreed to share their marina.” Jordan raised his eyebrows at her.
“I expect that probably went over with mixed levels of enthusiasm.”
He smirked. “That’s one way to say it.”
The men on the lower level were dressed in layers of flannel under their coveralls. Anne had already warned Cori that there was always a bite of cold in Maine, even in early September. Farley was on the northern coast, just south of Acadia on north Penobscot Bay. The tide map and the location made it the perfect spot to be an ecologist and an even better spot to blend into the shadows for the next three months.
“The town was struggling with revenue when the government issued the grant,” Jordan explained. “It was the only thing that could get them out of the bind. A lot of the locals are still a little sore about it, but to be honest, most of the sentiment was welcoming. This is the type of town where people grow up and never leave. The community’s close,” he explained.
“What was it like moving up here?” Cori asked, trying to keep up with his long strides as they walked toward the dock.
His hand drifted to his chest. “How can you tell I’m not a local?” he asked with mock ostentation.
Cori cringed, cursing her unfortunate predisposition to make every situation just a little awkward.
“Your accent,” she said, fidgeting with her charm bracelet again.
Jordan shrugged. “The accent always gives it away. This isn’t New York. Moving up here took some adjustment. There aren’t too many gay Black men in northern Maine, as you may have guessed. I met Anne in Manhattan. She was trying to get donations from the PR firm I was working for at the time.”
He stopped walking as they approached the dock, gesturing towards a small, neat vessel bobbing silently in the water.
“Do you ever get out on the boat?” Cori asked.
He returned a serious look. “I don’t do boats, Dr. Evans. ”
“Noted,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she stepped aboard. “I can take a look. This is a sterndrive?”
Jordan cocked his head and crossed his arms.
“Right,” she said, flushing. She hoped she could be useful for something today besides being a walking stereotype of a socially awkward scientist. As she set to work examining the gears, Jordan eyed her skeptically from the dock.
Luckily, the problem stemmed from a simple jam on the throttle. She released the lever in tandem with a sigh of relief and reset the position. When she turned the key, the engine sputtered before growling to life.
Jordan raised his eyebrows. “Well-done, Dr. Evans.”
She smiled tentatively at him as some of the tension in her shoulders loosened. “Please, call me Cori.”
Gooseflesh prickled on her skin as the wind picked up, her gaze sweeping reflexively skyward. It wasn’t even dusk but the stars blinked through a cobalt sky. Weary energy drummed through her veins, cresting in tandem to the beat of her heart.
Cori hastily pushed it away. I said not now .
She tore her gaze away from the glittering canopy above her. It was going to be hard to turn off her senses in a place like this. In New Haven, sound and light from campus blared with near constant distraction.
Until this moment, Cori had purposely avoided places like this. Her Eye had been closed for the past nine years, and she preferred it stay that way.
The hum of a distant engine grew with ferocious intensity offshore. As it neared, the composition of the air thickened. An electric tingle spread from the outermost layer of her skin down to the marrow of her bone. Her hair stood on edge and sparks of energy danced on her tongue.
It could only mean one thing. There was another witch nearby.
Dread rose in her chest. This was the last place on Earth she expected to confront a witch. The pesky magic of her Eye fluttered in response to the charge in the air .
She turned back to Jordan, perhaps a little too sharply. He jumped in response.
“You know what, I’m exhausted from the drive and I would love to unpack,” she said briskly.
Jordan gaped at her as she leaped from the deck of the boat. If Cori Evans was good at one thing, it was running away.