CLARA AND EMIR'S pursuit of the unsuspecting woman lasted for one train ride and a couple of blocks of walking.
They had wasted no effort in navigating. The flurry of snow that carried them appeared to have a mind of its own. Could it be the master pulling the strings as he watched over the basin? No matter whose power it was, it saved them a whole lot of energy and time.
The street they were on now wasn't bright with decorated store windows like the one they had just left. Some places were boarded up and there was a lot of writing on the buildings and some of the streetlights were broken. A guy with a beard was sitting on the curb, clutching a bottle. He stretched out his hand to the woman as she passed him.
Clara felt pity and she was tempted to turn around and give the necklace she wore but remembered no one could see or touch them. So she kept her eyes on the woman and didn't look back again.
The snow was falling faster now, and the sidewalk was getting slippery. The woman stumbled once, cursed, but managed not to fall.
How far was she going? she wondered. Four blocks later she had her answer. The woman stepped into the entranceway to an old building, stuck her key in the lock, and went inside.
They raced to catch the door before it closed behind her. They couldn't afford to let her out of their sight again.
The hall was dark and gritty, and the smell of stale food hung in the air. Ahead of them, they could hear footsteps going up the stairs... and voices. The sound led to the door at the end of the hallway. A warm light flooded beneath the door and shadows moved about as people inside sat, scraping the chairs on the rickety floorboards.
The snow eased them down, as featherlight as possible as if beneath them was a pool of cotton. Emir and Clara nodded resolutely to each other before passing through the door.
More than a dozen people occupied the room. While others sat on the chairs, each of them had a person standing on guard on their backs. They were arranged around the solitary table with not even a drink to indicate they wouldn't stay for long. Not an ounce of formality was wasted. Other than the burning fireplace at one end of the room, there wasn't much to lift the sorry state of the dark, cold room. No one had thought to make the place welcoming.
"Eowyn," a deep, low voice. broke the silence. The man wore round glasses and a top hat. His gray mustache bristled as he huffed. "I wouldn't put it past you to arrive late as you so love being in the spotlight."
Eowyn, the woman Clara and Emir were following, sat even straighter, crossing her legs. Her wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow on half of her face, but it didn't quite hide her sneer. Her lips quivered at the corner, however, she could only do much not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected her. The things she went through before getting there already sent her temper skyward. The other people in the room shifted on their seats as they expectantly watched the two's exchange.
"Oh, Old Lazarus, only if you'd do so much as to walk and not expect to be carried around by your henchmen." She winked at the buff man whose form hulked behind Lazarus.
The tips of Lazarus' ears went red and his mustache vibrated in barely concealed detestation. He pointed a shaking finger at her, his knees wobbling as he stood. The buff man behind Lazarus put everything in him to push the fuming old gentleman gently on the chair while trying not to crush those brittle bones with his big, rough hands.
"Ye o-obno—, ye i-ill-mannered," Lazarus sputtered incoherently. The tail of his coat flapped as air gathered beneath him. Eowyn, pretending not to hear a thing, blew on her polished nails and inspected them under the little light the fireplace could offer.
"Wench!" Lazarus cried at last and it certainly caught Eowyn's attention as she gasped, eyes wide in horror.
"No. No, you didn't just say that." Eowyn stood painstakingly slow. Her eyes glowered and every person in that room scuttled farther away from her, including Lazarus who instantly regretted saying that last word. The ground beneath them quaked and the table skittered on the floor.
"Enough!" someone in the room, who knew well enough to not be intimidated by Eowyn's ability to shake the earth, roared and slammed the table to stop it in place. This man wore a loose muscle shirt and leather pants. Bolts of electricity crackled on the ends of his spiky black hair and fisted hands. "Go on. Argue like children. You've got no shame."
"I expected this meeting to be over soon, but I forgot things can turn dramatic when all of us are gathered here," Night said, rolling her eyes. She had on thick gothic makeup. What appeared to be her cloak was a bundle of shadows.
A grumble that sounded like small stones slamming against each other resounded. "No nuts, no biscuits this time," mumbled the Rock Man, oblivious to the stares at him beyond belief. His body was covered in orange, flexible, rock-like hide. The thing had no outer ear structure or neck.
"Tch, typical brawn with no brain." Beside the Rock Man, with obvious disdain for the thing, sat a little girl (or an adult the size of a child?) with metal studs piercing the skin on her face, arms, and neck. A metal chain necklace hung around her neck and the name "Brienne" was scrawled on its plate.
"Ow!" Brienne yelped and bounced on her seat. She scowled at Lynx, the man emitting electric sparks around his body, as she rubbed her arms. "How many times did I tell you not to sit beside me in any of our meetings? The least you can do is prevent yourself from touching me!"
Lynx looked down at her with a serene face. "Ah, I regret there's not much space for me to move freely around. I apologize."
Someone cleared his throat, a man with blue skin and sparkling scales on his skin. Adrian, the head chief of the Water Clan, gave a friendly smile with a silent threat hidden in his eyes."I believe the meeting shall commence as it should have been minutes ago before Eowyn and Lazarus started it."
Everyone nodded, all silently agreeing they wouldn't go as far as angering Adrian. There was a lake nearby the building they were in, and it was easy to drown everyone there in just a sweep of Adrian's hand.
"Xavia, please, do the honors of presiding," said Adrian, gracefully waving a hand at a woman with glowing golden locks of hair, even her skin as radiant as the sun.
The forum began, but it wouldn't be long enough until the tension would be back to join them.
Soon, the questions were suddenly too much that they merely drowned the voices of everyone in that room.
"Hold on," Clara said, clutching her head. "From what I'm seeing, and if I'm counting it right, there are fourteen elemental clans. That's nine more than the original five."
A deep valley formed between Emir's brows. He chewed on his lips, a visible sign of stress that was eating him. "Our ancestors created Hiestora with the Guardian Deity's blessing, so we are free to live with our powers without hiding them," he said. "Ordinary mortals originally feared the Attuned that they associated us with nefarious entities like witches, vampires, demons, and werewolves. Many of our kind were accused of witchcraft. They were prosecuted and punished by hanging."
"The Salem witch trials." Clara rubbed her neck. "I couldn't imagine the horror of those days."
"With this many clans gathered in the Tuneless mortals' realm, no wonder they got wind of our existence, especially if one of them cannot afford to be" —he grimaced— "discreet."
"Surrender the state. My state?" The sound of a chair falling and a high-pitched angry voice pulled Clara and Emir's attention back to the meeting.
Nicolas, the man in a white sleeveless fur coat, stood fuming, his eyes burning blue. Ice crept on the walls. The fire on the hearth dwindled until the last of its flames extinguished in a hiss. Now, the room wasn't only cold but also dark.
Fierro snapped his fingers and a tiny flame appeared on the tip of his pointing finger. He shot it to the fireplace like firing a gun, and light and warmth returned to the room.
"Dummy, no one owns a state, especially not you," Eowyn snapped. "We simply don't want to draw attention amongst ourselves, but none of America's states is owned by a clan."
Xavia nodded. "As to not let the whole population of the Attuned to be concentrated in one area."
The Rock Man grumbled. "Disaster."
Brienne grinned. "That's the first sensible thing you said today, Rocky."
Rocky rolled his eyes and proceeded to mumble to himself about desserts and whiskeys.
"So much for not drawing unwanted attention." Lazarus snarled. His thin, gnarly fingers worked on his top hat. "For heaven's sake, Hawaii doesn't have snowstorms!"
Nicolas rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Hawaii does have snow."
"But not a snowstorm." Lynx sighed and rubbed the bridge of his snow. "Only the highest peaks on Maui and Big Island have the possibility of snowstorm impact, not the whole of Hawaii."
"But it's Christmas! What is Christmas without some snow?"
Lazarus sprung to his feet, thrusting a finger in Nicolas' direction. "Aha! So you admit that your clan deliberately made the whole of Hawaii fall under five inches of snow?"
"The point here is, dear Nicholas, your clan has caused so much mischief this past... years." Xavia steepled her fingers, her lips set in a tight line.
Nicolas sneered. There was a dark cloud brewing above his head. "You are being unfair, you know? The Ice Clan isn't the only one to be blamed."
"Nicolas." The night pressed him down on his shoulders but he shrugged her off.
Nicolas snarled. "Lazarus and Eowyn, you just can't keep your issues to yourselves, can you? Just how many times have you caused a widespread earthquake and storm in all of Massachusetts and New York?"
Lazarus and Eowyn were about to protest but Nicolas held up a hand. He turned to Fierro, who in turn narrowed his eyes at him.
"Certainly everyone here remembers what the chief of the Fire Clan did in Alaska two years ago." Nicolas tapped his chin while looking at the ceiling with a deep frown as if. having a hard time remembering. Then his face brightened. "Oh, right. Pavlof, Redoubt, and Katmai. Does it ring a bell? Really, what are the odds that three volcanoes in different locations would erupt at the same time?"
Steam whistled out of Fierro's ears. Adrian fidgeted beside him, perhaps, readying himself if ever the man decided to burn the whole building down. The job of putting out the fire would fall to him.
"Caused by rogue clan members. Been taken care of," Fierro said through gritted teeth.
Nicolas shrugged. "Sure. But you see, there's no one here who's innocent. All of you have done the same as I did to cause the Tuneless to be suspicious of our existence." He looked each of them in the eye until his gaze stopped at Rock Man who still muttered to himself about the place's lack of decoration. Nicolas' lips split in a menacing grin. "All but one. Poor Rock Man and his clan don't need to do anything. Forced into hiding under the Rocky Mountains, unable to blend among humans. Your appearance is enough to scare humans away."
Rock Man's incessant mumblings ceased at once and it was deathly quiet. All eyes were on him, waiting, even Clara and Emir watched with bated breath. His head swiveled, twitching, to look at Nicolas. His eyes were wide and hollow, and for once, Nicolas had become speechless, unable to swallow the growing dread.
And before anyone could shout "Humbug!" Rock Man's hard fist connected to Nicolas' jaw. He flew straight through the wall into the next room.
In a blink of an eye, with their diplomatic codes set to the side, the Attuned were up against each other. Each took an opponent of their own. Earth, water, fire, ice, air, thunder, force, time, shadow, light, metal, rock, and illusion. Their myriad of powers created colors were a show to watch for, if only this wasn't a fight caused by decades of dispute and antipathy.
The whole building was yet to be leased, so there were no occupants yet. Unfortunately, they would have to move to a new headquarters.
Wood dust rained down from the ceiling. The floor beneath them was about to give way. In no time, this whole building would fall and there'd be nothing left but wreckage to remain a mystery.
The flurry of snow came through the broken wall, sweeping Clara and Emir off their feet. They knew it was time to leave this memory behind, and then off they'd go onto the next one.
Concealed by darkness in the corner of the room, however, was a man of strong build clad in a business suit. No one threw him a look all this time. No one spoke to him. Nobody challenged him for fear of upsetting the man who could easily take their life away in just a snap of a finger for the power ran in his blood. He picked up his briefcase on the floor and headed for the door.
"You don't wish to join, Argyle?" his assistant, his right-hand man, said as he ran after him.
"For what purpose, Morren, when I can easily wipe them all out? They stand no chance against me."
"Indeed, indeed." Morren followed him down the stairs and out into the cold, frigid air of New York in winter. "Not more than a step and they'll be dead as a doornail. I don't understand why you choose to keep up with their whims with your power. Our clan shall rise above all else."
Argyle paused mid-stride. He looked up at the starless sky and breathed deeply, the sound of the building crumbling in the background. "Soon, Morren, soon. Blood is power and we shall rise above all else."