Air: Elementalist Book 1 by Rebecca Wolf (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📗

below the stainless-steel countertops, needing a minute alone. One more consolatory remark, or blubbering commiserant, and I was libel to start a small tornado. There was only so much control I could sustain. I heard the kitchen door swing open. Footsteps padded inside. I crouched lower behind the counter. The footsteps stopped but I didn’t hear the door swing back open. After several moments of waiting impatiently, I glanced up. There, smirking down at me was Aiden. I bared my teeth at him and growled. He chuckled and then sauntered out. I promised myself then and there that Aiden would pay.

The next two months were a series of small skirmishes. I did my best to sabotage Aiden. Aiden often gave as good as he got, while doing his best to thwart my efforts.

I put vinegar in his drinking water; he drank the whole glass. In one go. Without changing expression. It was both disgusting and impressive at the same time, and it just riled me more. I told him to come two hours early; he stopped by my place to pick me up. I made a Bundt cake out of used coffee grounds and offered him a slice, he passed it around the soup kitchen and told everyone I had made it. It was infuriating, but also strangely exhilarating. And somewhat shocking that he kept showing up.

He had a habit of standing just a little too close when we were talking. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that I could smell him. He smelled like pepper and cloves, and it made me want to lean in and lick him. All my nerves seemed hyperactive whenever he was in the room, and he knew it. I was almost positive he was doing it on purpose.  It was driving me insane.

That Wednesday, as I drove to the soup kitchen, I realized that I had started to enjoy this unspoken game we were playing, and that I no longer missed Brian during soup kitchen nights as keenly as I used to. That idea bothered me, and I quickly set to planning my next prank rather than dwell too deeply on it.

I opened the door to the soup kitchen, and he was already there, the leftover soup bubbling as he cut up new vegetables to bulk it up. “Zephyr,” he said with a nod and a slight smile. “Any new diabolical plans I should know about?”

“None that I care to share,” I said as I took out the bowls and the silverware. We couldn’t afford to use disposable, even though it was a hell of a cleanup, and ever since Aiden had started doing the dishes shirtless, I wasn’t sure I minded.

“Hey, Zephyr?” Aiden asked,

“Yup?”

“Let’s call it a truce for tonight?”

I hesitated. “Did you see the food coloring I slipped in the dish bucket?”

“Yup,” Aiden said, “and I have a work function tomorrow. I really can’t afford to show up with blue tinted hands.”

“Alright,” I said, “I’d hate for your farmer associates to think less of you. I guess we can call a truce for tonight.” Aiden smiled at me over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said, his smile making my stomach do a weird flip. Probably indigestion, I thought to myself reassuringly.

Chapter 7

I was working at the bar late Tuesday night the following week, when Tommy Lee stepped in, his eyes wide as he looked around at the people and the performers. I kept my eye on him as I continued serving customers, making sure he was ok. He had never come into the club before, and I wondered what had brought him to come here now. He wasn’t the type of boy to come seeking cheap thrills.

Tommy hesitated briefly and then, lifting his chin, made his way over to my designated business chair. He scrambled up onto the seat, at one point almost falling off the other side before he got situated. He was out of breath when he finished, and I frowned in concern.

“Shot of mercury?” he said breathlessly, his small feet looking for purchase on the barstool.

I moved a bowl of nuts and a glass of cold water in front of Tommy, “Here. Catch your breath, have some water. Then we’ll talk,” he hesitated briefly, then nodded, and gulped the water down thirstily. I wondered when the last time was that he had clean water. He put the glass down and let out a sigh.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok Tommy, tell me what’s going on. Does your momma know you’re here?” He was quiet for a bit, his shoulders hunched, his face furrowed, and I realized with a jolt that he was trying not to cry. This kid was tough as nails. It must be something serious if he was close to tears.

He finally took a deep breath in, coughed, and said, “No, she doesn’t know. Momma had an accident at the sweatshop yesterday- her hand got caught in the machine,” he started, before suddenly letting out a sob. I tried to reach out to touch him, but he pulled away before continuing quickly, as if getting the words out faster would somehow make it easier to say. “The doctor had to cut it off. They’re going to fire her from her job. She can’t work the machines with only one hand.”

“Does your mom have all the supplies she needs?” I asked gently.

“She’s making do,” he said stoically.

That I highly doubted, but I didn’t want to push.

“What do you need?” I asked after letting him compose himself a little more.

“Is that job offer still available?” he asked, “I heard her talking about it with the priest the other day.”

“Yes, it’s still available.”

“I would like to accept the position,” he said.

“You know your momma doesn’t approve, right?” I said, determined he should think things through before taking the job.

“I know. I don’t care.”

“Then you can start now, if you want.”

“You have to promise me you won’t tell my momma. She’s worried for my soul,