Chapter 4 - Above Cursed Winds

Fool . He was a fool.

He’d deliberately been defiant during the meeting, and acted flippant and lazy. He’d courted Nina’s wrath by responding so poorly to the question of her own clan’s security.

Jeremiah should have cared more, he should have been motivated by the danger they were all in, yet he somehow felt like an invisible wall was separating him from everyone else and their feelings. If they were putting their hopes in him and his abilities, then they were even bigger fools than he was.

Out of the corner of his vision, he watched as Zia’s mouth dropped open. For half a moment, his focus snagged on the Raeth woman. Undoubtedly, her head would reach a good foot below where Jeremiah stood at six foot four.

Cascading down her back were luscious waves dyed in colors similar to an oil slick. Reds, greens, yellows, blues; each hue could’ve been a trick of the light had they not shifted in her black hair as she moved. If anything, he’d been enamored with not only the chromatic effects, but also with her delicate features. A spark of her personality shone through in her eyes, because clearly, she stared at him as though he had a screw loose.

Perhaps two. Three, at most.

A double set of earrings pierced her ears and the barest whisper of a tattoo was peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her Henley. Blazing out of those pretty features was an aura of complete innocence.

No one would ever look at her and see a villain.

But that was unerringly what she was. Her incompetence could potentially cost the lives of hundreds. No matter what she did now, it would never fix the error.

Despite the fierceness of her resolve, it couldn’t overshadow the guilt she’d already admitted to. It was an expression he knew well—because he saw it in the mirror whenever he looked at himself.

Weakness. Incompetence. Guilt. He may not be able to cope with his own, but he could villainize her for it. Being cruel was simply a side effect of purging his own pain.

Beside him, Gideon shifted uneasily, instantly drawing Jeremiah’s attention back to the matter at hand. He found Nina’s gaze still trained on him, the clear malevolence in her eyes a warning. Without his conscious volition, the air around him began to churn with the weight of his power.

Not good.

“My apologies.” Forced, both words were swallowed like daggers. “I’ll be of aid when it’s necessary.”

Nina’s glare didn’t soften, and for a moment, he could’ve sworn he saw the blue of her eyes tinge red. Her mate, the Raeth called Zeke, gently curled an arm around her back, whispering something in her ear that made her attention—finally—move away from him.

“May I suggest a recess, Nina?” Gideon’s voice, placating and calm, sounded from beside him.

Conversation murmured around them, and suddenly the Raeths were leaving, followed shortly by the werewolves and several of the vampires. Other than his Elemental colleagues and their mates, only Aidan and Lucy had remained behind, the single other couple who lived in Paracel full time.

Glancing over to his cohorts, Jeremiah’s eyebrows rose. Not only had Gideon and Rukia adopted matching expressions of incredulity, but their wordless grimaces spoke to just how much they disapproved of his outburst.

Isaiah began chuckling. All eyes went to him, but it was Rukia who asked, “What is funny about this situation, Isaiah?”

“You all seem so shocked.” Mockery was fully apparent in his tone. “You’ve forgotten who Nina is—what she is.” The humor evaporated. “Without question, she’s one of the most dangerous people on the planet, a predator clothed in a pretty package. While her pleasant nature may have helped you forget that fact, I assure you, she has not.”

Isaiah shook his head, his fingers trailing across Rukia’s bare forearm in a tender gesture. “None of us are victims here. None of us are easy prey. You’d do well to remember that. Nina’s recovering from childbirth—from twins, no less—and she’s still suffering from the massive energy drought that ensued afterward. Need I remind you that those of us who are destruction are far more prone to flares of anger when threatened?”

Rukia sucked in a breath, her eyes finding Jeremiah’s. A pretty chocolate brown, Rukia’s gaze was fixated on his as though she needed to convey something of the utmost importance. What he found buried beneath her surface level spite was fear.

For him.

“Don’t pull the tiger by the tail, Jeremiah.” There was no trace of humor in Isaiah’s voice now. “No one could protect you if she deemed you a threat. Not me, not Zeke, not Gideon. No one.”

Despite the prickling of anxiety that tingled across his skin, Jeremiah’s response was anything but. “Thanks for that riveting advice, Raeth. I’ll log that away in my ‘mind your manners’ mental folder.”

Leaping to his feet, Gideon surprised his wife who straightened suddenly. He began pacing a track back and forth between them, the subtle vibration of the earth beneath their feet indicative of how agitated the man was.

“Oh, just spit it out, Gid.”

Jeremiah used his monarch’s nickname, but it felt foreign in his mouth. It’d been ages since they’d been chummy, and it felt as though he hardly knew his best friend anymore. Jeremiah had lost him when Gideon was buried all those months ago.

Even worse was that Jeremiah had lost himself.

His monarch stopped pacing to glare at him, those inhuman eyes shimmering a molten gold. “What are you doing, Jeremiah?”

“Right now?” he asked. “Sitting. Doing my darndest not to fall asleep.”

Gideon’s scoff betrayed both his rapidly dwindling patience and his outrage at Jeremiah’s actions. “Why the hell are you intent on burning the world down with you? Has it not been enough to drown yourself in liquor and fate knows what else? Must you bring all of us down with you?”

A scathing laugh, dark and ominous, hissed from between Jeremiah’s lips. “Whoever said I was burning the world down? And what if I happen to like my liquor and an endless supply of ‘fate knows what else’?”

The lie came so easily it almost eclipsed the truth.

“Why are you compromising everything we’ve worked for? Why are you compromising yourself?” Gideon spat.

The rumbling below the House was dangerously active for an earth Elemental that could swallow the structure whole if he’d willed it. Jeremiah ignored it. Irate at the insinuation, he charged to his feet.

“Oh, I’m compromising myself? That’s rich coming from you, Gideon. You loathed vampires, hated everything they stood for, and now you’ve married one.” His glare turned on Rukia. “Do you remember what you said about Isaiah after our first meeting?”

Fury mounted in Rukia’s chocolate-brown eyes, clearly remembering the conversation, and willing him to be quiet. Jeremiah, glutton for punishment, would do no such thing.

“You said that Isaiah was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, and you’d rather die in a desert than speak with him again. Now guess what? You’ve popped out his kid.”

Rukia’s lip curled, but it appeared that Isaiah had taken no offense, and the smirk that curled on his lips only incited Jeremiah to spew more insults.

“Now, Paracel plays host to a werewolf who howls at the moon, a spiteful Raeth sovereign, and an ancient vampire who takes the blood—and ability—of the most powerful Elemental to walk the earth.” Finishing his diatribe, Jeremiah fisted his hands on his hips and squared off with Gideon. “Tell me again who’s compromising their values.”

A look he’d seldom seen shadowed Gideon’s features. If Jeremiah had to guess, a substantial portion of it was frustration. Disappointment, no doubt. But above all things, it looked as though Gideon was giving up.

“You’ll go to Hawaii, Jeremiah.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a command.

On its heels, contempt rose to the surface within Jeremiah. “Is that so, oh glorious Elemental monarch? Send the tech guy, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, huh? And that, of course, will be on top of being the only line of defense for air poisoning attacks. Because it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be off-call from that.”

Gideon threw his hands in the air. “Well, it’s better than you staying around here, getting drunk every night and passing out in some random Iowa City motel room again!”

“Glad to know I’m wanted.”

Instead of responding, Gideon and Aidan shared a loaded look from across the room. It was clear then, as bright as day to him. Aidan had replaced Jeremiah as Gideon’s best friend. It’d been inevitable, looking back on it now.

Jeremiah was circling the proverbial drain while Aidan and Gideon were both mated and happy, living the best years of their lives. Now it seemed they were ganging up on him to deliver whatever type of intervention this passed for. It was a betrayal of the worst kind.

“You’ll go to Nero’s clan lands and figure out what’s going on, Jeremiah.”

Seething at the entire exchange, Jeremiah balked. “And why should I?”

“Because that’s what we signed up for when we—when you—signed the accords, Jeremiah,” his monarch muttered. “Partnership: perhaps you could give it a go sometime.”

Finally, the dam holding back his bitter anger burst wide open. “I wish we’d never gone to that damned meeting! Everything from that point on has only gone downhill!”

Shocked by his outburst, his monarch took a step back, the earth stilling beneath their feet. Quiet, Gideon’s response was full of incredulity.

“Nothing has gone downhill, Jeremiah.”

But everything had, and they were just too blind to see it. Every step of the way had been painful, and they’d limped along under the guise of gaining ground. As far as he was concerned, it had cost too much and there was little progress to show for it.

“Damnit, Gideon, you died!”

Power burned in his veins, air molecules beginning to churn around him, a subtle breeze picking up in the room. When they’d signed the Accords, they’d been pulled into a war that hadn’t been theirs to fight.

“Citizens shot you in front us when you weren’t even on their radar!”

Every cell of his being cringed as the agonizing memories assaulted him, his pulse a staccato song. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the night when Gideon had been assassinated in front of him. The weakness in his limbs. His own hoarse screams. The growing pool of crimson haloing Gideon’s motionless form.

No. Never again.

Jeremiah would never put himself in a position of vulnerability again, one where he couldn’t save the people he loved most. Being helpless—powerless—was the greatest torture.

It didn’t matter that Gideon had risen, alive and well. His best friend had died that night, and Rukia had vanished in the aftermath. He’d stayed, dealing with the responsibilities in Paracel they’d both abandoned. Jeremiah was the one who’d dealt with the aftershocks that had rocked throughout their entire Elemental species. And now, they were ganging on him and accusing him of not caring enough.

Before Gideon could respond, the sound of footsteps broke their unintentional standoff, and Jeremiah collapsed into his chair. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his temples, shielding himself from their view.

He’d rather cast himself off a rocky cliff than see that disappointment in Gideon’s eyes again.