Eli replayed the memories again—not that he’d ever completely stopped. Bits and pieces of the last moments with his parents seemed to be ever-present. His da' had been to his left, his mum to his right. Dammit. Why hadn’t he paid more attention in his language classes? He’d taken Gaelic for a year at university, but hated it, so he’d not continued.
Da’s voice had been stronger. And his hands...Eli had felt the heat coming from them.
“Blast it.” He pushed up from the chair and stalked over to the window. “It was twenty fucking years ago. I don’t understand why they had to bind my element. But what I really want to know? Why take my memories?”
Pain crept through his chest, clogged his throat, and made his headache even worse. Anger followed close on its heels. He’d lost everything. His entire identity beyond his name. All for what?
“To protect you.” The air elemental joined him at the window, and a gentle breeze stirred the air. “Katerina—Mara’s sister—did the same thing to me. When I didn’t know who I was, Fergus couldn’t find me.”
“No one should have been looking for me in the first place! I was a normal kid. At least normal for being a fucking elemental.” Frustration rumbled through his chest, and he spun towards the desk and slammed his hand down on a page of sigils he had no hope of ever understanding. “I can’t read these any more than you can, nor will I ever be able to.”
The books on the shelves rattled as a bit of his power slipped from his grasp. Fuck. He couldn’t even control thisthinghe’d been born with. How the hell was he supposed to help fight a group of practitioners who could spell him within an inch of his life with just a few words?
His palm tingled, and he jerked it away from the weathered pages, cradled his hand to his chest, and started for the door.
“Oh, my God,” Caitlin whispered. “Eli. Come back.”
He didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to be reminded how useless he was. How he was trapped here until someone—not him—figured out how to guard against the Thirteen. But Caitlin’s tone held such awe, curiosity got the better of him.
“What?”
When he looked down at the page, his mouth went dry. Some of the sigils were...missing. The tingling in his palm turned into heat, then pain, and he hissed, then lost the ability to draw breath completely.
Ink swirled over—or under—his skin, twisting and turning until it formed a completely new pattern. That of the pendant still in his pocket and four letters.
Caitlin grabbed his hand. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t even know what I did. But it hurts like hell.”
Tierney skirted the desk to join them and narrowed his eyes at the sigil blazed on Eli’s palm.
“Well, that makes no sense,” Eli muttered. “P-R-T-S?”
“It’s missin’ two letters,” Tierney said. “Two I’s. Rearrange the letters and ya’ get spirit.”
Caitlin met his gaze, her eyes wide. “Eli, whether ya’ want to believe it or not, I think ya’ might just be able to form the fifth element.”
* * *
Farren
Thank God for the peace and quiet of her office. For a job she knew how to do. Finding people was easy. A few hundred euros a year, along with some help from one of her mum’s former Garda colleagues, and she could access the same databases as the federal government.
After an hour, she had detailed records on Eli from the moment he woke up in the hospital onwards, but nothing before then. A quick text to Caitlin—she wasn’t ready to talk to her mate—and she had his birthday, but none of the male babies born on that date led anywhere. Or rather, they all led somewhere that wasn’t Eli.
The barrister’s name was beyond worthless, as the only mentions of him anywhere in public records were related to his guardianship. The man had no formal schooling, no license to practice law, not even a national ID card.
“His parents bound his powersandtook his memories. The only proof his name is Eli Escobar came from this barrister,” she mused as she brewed herself a pot of strong coffee. “Everything about him could be a lie.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them. His name and birth date might be lies, but Eli...the person he was...that was real.
Expanding her search to include boys born within twelve months of the date he’d supplied, she combed through records until her shoulders burned and the screen started to blur.
How was it already dark outside? Seven hours? No wonder her arse hurt. She hadn’t even left her chair since a little after noon. After she plugged one more set of criteria into the system and set it to run unattended, she stood and stretched her arms over her head.
“Go home. Ye’re being a coward. If ya’ don’t talk to the man, ye’ll never know if he’s still plannin’ on leavin’.”
Her personal pep talk soothed her nerves, so she locked up and headed for O’Connor’s. It was a good thing her fast metabolism burned off the alcohol in minutes and shifting healed most injuries or she’d be headed for liver damage from the events of the past months.
