Chapter 34 - Above Cursed Winds

Every step he took away from her ripped him to shreds. The painful beats of his heart mirrored the agony he’d experienced as she laid into him, cleaving his soul in two with her words.

He kept walking because she’d asked him to.

For all intents and purposes, he’d served his purpose. Jeremiah had verified Nero’s clan wasn’t directly responsible for loss, and confirmed what they already knew—the Citizens had breached Nero’s clan territory. No one wanted anything more from him. They didn’t need him around.

Heavy rain pelted into the side of his face and body. While he could’ve formed an air shield, there was no point. Fire burned through his veins at her dismissal, and nothing external could soothe the ache that’d followed.

Hurricane-force winds slammed into him, making it difficult to walk. Around him, devastation had already begun: tree limbs were downed, windows were shattered, debris littered the walkways.

By the time he’d made his way to the condo Nero had assigned him, he was soaked to the bone. Rainwater dripped down his body, trickling steadily from his hair and into his eyes.

Tears were no longer distinguishable from rain. A silver lining, perhaps.

Sounds from within—Gideon’s voice—stopped him in his tracks. Jeremiah had forgotten Nero had given the condo to Gideon and Rona instead, leaving him temporarily homeless. Again.

Instead of going inside or knocking, he simply stood on the porch. It offered him little shelter from the hurricane, but for a moment, all he wanted to do was linger. Punishment, no matter from the beating of a fist or the beating of rain, was still punishment.

Half a moment later, the door swung open, and Gideon’s concern slammed into him like an unseen mallet.

“Jeremiah! What are you doing?”

His monarch fisted a hand in Jeremiah’s drenched shirt and hauled him inside. The door swung closed behind them, shutting out the storm, and left them alone in the strained silence of the foyer.

“Rona, grab a towel!” When Jeremiah didn’t respond, when he kept his gaze trained on the floor he’d once slept on, Gideon’s entire being paused. “Jer? Are you injured?”

Molten-gold eyes filtered into his peripheral only seconds later. Two hands, gentle, laid atop his shoulders as if attempting to right him from the weariness that’d begun leaching from his soul. It was all Jeremiah could do to stay standing, to keep himself from curling into a ball and allowing his element to merely take him home.

Home. Where even was ‘home’ anymore?

Paracel? Even the vague notion of the small city iced his boiling blood. It had been his community for several centuries, yet he felt completely dissociated from it now.

No, Paracel was no longer his home. Hawaii had never truly been awarded the title, even when his soul had found fleeting rest among the palm trees, and yearned for the woman who’d just gutted him.

He had no home. Not anymore.

“Jeremiah.”

Two hands had captured his cheeks and forced his gaze up from the floor to stare directly into Gideon’s eyes. Pure, undiluted concern bled from the other man. His best friend.

A man Jeremiah had always respected, adored, and appreciated. One he’d failed more than any other.

In that moment, he knew he had to tell Gideon the truth. It no longer seemed to matter one way or the other, and it was better he be honest now than leave his monarch in the dark. Gideon needed to know it wasn’t his fault.

“Gideon, I tried to save you that night.”

A pause as he watched his best friend freeze where he stood.

“I tried to save you when Torrin was killing you.” Each syllable he spoke burned venomously on his tongue, the acrid taste of betrayal and disloyalty beating at him. “I put your life above everyone else because I thought I could save you all. I wasn’t strong enough when it counted.”

When Jeremiah shook his head, Gideon’s hands fell away from his face.

“No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I begged, my element refused. I tried to stop the bullets. I tried to steal Torrin’s breath. I tried to suck the air out of the canyon.” A single, broken laugh. “I tried everything, and nothing worked. I couldn’t even walk toward you to physically push Torrin away. I failed you when you needed me most, Gideon.”

Distantly, he was aware that Gideon had gasped, that Rona, somewhere in the hallway, had done the same. Jeremiah hung his head, unable to face their reactions.

Gideon’s hand fisted in his soaked shirt, the material bunching in his grip. “Jer. Jeremiah, look at me.”

Finally lifting his gaze, he staggered to see forgiveness in his best friend’s face.

“Jeremiah, why on earth would I fault you for that?”

A strangled sob choked in his throat. “Didn’t you hear me? Because I placed your life above everyone else’s. Because I risked getting everyone killed. Because I failed you.”

“Jeremiah,” Gideon’s other hand cupped his neck, the contact breathtakingly tender, “had your element succeeded, you could’ve taken down Torrin and anyone else who came against us—I have no doubts as to your ability. But brother, why ever would I vilify you for that? Why do you believe I’d be angry you tried to save me?”

“Because, Gideon, I’m a failure. Don’t you see?” Pleading now, Jeremiah’s shoulders hunched as tears dampened his cheeks. “I couldn’t help you because my own element rejected me. Why wouldn’t you do the same?”

Heartbreak entered Gideon’s features, but before he could speak, a window shattered upstairs, drawing their attention. Wind whistled through the foyer, and Jeremiah didn’t even attempt to halt it.

The roar of the hurricane battered against their windows; Rona placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder.

“We need to go downstairs, Gideon. The hurricane.”

“Jeremiah, you’re not a failure,” his monarch reassured, but before he could continue his plea, an oppressive power teleported into the room beside them.

The Raeth sovereign’s eyes flashed. “Jeremiah.”

“Nero, we’ve had—”

Nero interrupted Gideon without apology. “Jeremiah, I need you to stop the hurricane. I can’t get my people to safety and the storm is upon us. We cannot make it through this.”

Had Jeremiah not been emotionally drained, he’d have laughed in the sovereign’s face. “I can’t stop a hurricane, Nero. It’s impossible.”

“You can, Jeremiah,” he growled back, the threatening pulse of his power electrifying the air around them. “Key has foreseen it.”

Scoffing, Jeremiah regained some semblance of self. “A hurricane isn’t just wind, Nero. At its core, yes, but the majority of the hurricane’s bulk is made of water. You’ve failed to realize that my element isn’t H2O.”

“But it is air, and you’ve become so fond of telling me that you’re capable of great things. Stop the hurricane.”

Beside him, Gideon made a move forward, but Jeremiah halted him by raising a hand. “The water vapor alone would be difficult to move, considering the sheer size of it, and the fact that it’s rotating would make it near impossible.”

“Please, Jeremiah,” Nero begged. “My people will suffer.”

“Then perhaps you should rethink your location … in the tropics.” Jeremiah shook his head, but Nero’s growl made him glance up once more. “What did you do in the past?”

“We have a Raeth who can shield us with waterpower, but she’s just had a child, and her power is weakened.” Pleading now, Nero’s eyes misted. “We can’t teleport away; we’ve too many young and too many still recovering from childbirth.”

Sighing, Jeremiah shook his head. “The sheer volume of water would be a strain even for Rukia if she hadn’t just had a child. Together, maybe—”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeremiah exhaled wearily, his resistance wavering.

Nero pleaded, “Our children are not yet a year old, Jeremiah. Please, I beg of you. Please help me save them as you’ve saved so many of our brethren.”

His path became clear before him. He’d yearned for a home and here was his opportunity to find one forever. “I can attempt, Nero.”

The dizzying sensation of the teleport churned in his stomach, his feet finding solid ground half a second later. Vision clearing, Jeremiah found himself among Nero’s lieutenants, all of whom looked at him with varying degrees of hope and wariness.

Jeremiah didn’t turn toward Zia, knowing instinctively that she’d remained in his blind spot. He looked toward the oncoming storm, the eye of which was to make landfall within the hour.

Air began to churn around his skin, bracketing his body with the heated water that’d accompanied it. Behind him, Gideon’s hand gripped his neck, supporting him against the elements as Jeremiah focused on what he was about to do.

Drawing upon his power, the air thickened around them, the music of the impending storm falling away. Replacing it was the beating drum of life that coursed through every molecule of his element. It whispered in his ears.

A voice. A song. A melody.

Rona’s gasp accompanied it, and her reverent tone followed. “She speaks to you.”

Behind him, Gideon asked, “Who?”

“It’s a voice,” the vampire who’d borrowed his power said. “It whispers. The wind whispers to him. I’ve never heard it before this very moment. And only now because …”

“Rona,” Jeremiah said quietly. “Be still. I must listen.”

Immediate silence followed his ask. Digging deep, his consciousness shot into the sky and its winds. Torrents of air coiled around him. Water vapor and torrential rain circulated, the roar of it abrasive against the welcoming warmth of his own element.

The liquid churning within the storm would make this near impossible. As Jeremiah’s consciousness began assessing the situation, the category five hurricane winds siphoned, rotating with wind speeds of more than one hundred sixty miles per hour.

With each passing second, Jeremiah realized the path he’d chosen was the only possible solution. There was no other choice if he wanted to save everyone around him. And he owed them all this much.

Diving back into his physical body, he turned to the sovereign bristling beside him. “Nero, I can’t stop this. It’s miles wide, and the water within is whirling at a rate that would take both Rukia and I to dissipate. It’s too soon after she had her child—she isn’t back to full strength, and no one else can match her skill.”

“What about an Amp?” another lieutenant asked. “Could an Amp supplement your abilities?”

“No.” Luna shook her head. “Amps don’t work on Elemental powers.”

Nero grimaced. “Then shield us, Jeremiah. Shield us from the danger.”

“If everything on the island is destroyed except your clan, Nero, the humans will suspect supernatural involvement,” Gideon spoke softly, his hand falling away from Jeremiah’s neck.

“I can’t save them; I can’t move them.” A rush of desolation beat against them, emanating from the sovereign. “I can’t stop this.”

Jeremiah looked at Gideon, as if wanting to engrave his friend’s features permanently into his heart. “Instead of stopping the hurricane, I could move it. Ensure the winds redirect before they ever reach the shore.”

Gideon nodded sharply. “Try. Try Jeremiah.”

It was all the blessing he needed. Spearing back into the sky, his sentience began shifting the winds as they battered into him, the currents moving as he willed them.

Every debilitating second he intentionally forced the winds to alter was a second he staggered. The colossal use of power began to beat at his psyche, the sheer strength needed to dissipate the immense hurricane nearing the limit of his endurance.

Separated as he was from his physical body, his attention was split, divided when he needed all of his strength to do the impossible. It’d take only seconds, his body complying with the demand as if he was simply taking a breath.

The effects were unknown. But what everyone needed from him couldn’t be clearer.

Myko needed him to stop failing. Gideon, above all, had the right to ask him to not be useless for once. Rona, Nero, Luna … Zia. If she thought of him in the future, he could only hope she wouldn’t remember a worthless man.

In a heartbeat, one single breath, Jeremiah physically devested of his body, dissolving every molecule of his being into his element.