Just Breathe
hated this plan. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
    “It’s not what I want . I think it’s best .”
    Best for whom? Neither of them. She had no idea how much he needed her now —not two weeks from now. He’d struggled to maintain a hold on the slippery tether to her heart, and she just cut the one string that kept him from flying away.
    “Whatever, Zed. You’ve got my number. Ring me when you’re ready to talk.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
    “Yeah, so am I.” He hit the end button on the phone and tossed it into the seat beside him.
    His ribs constricted around his lungs like a vise. Scarlet’s revolting smell rose from his skin again and choked him.
    What the hell would he do without his muse?
    Do what you did before you met Zoe. Take that defeated, broken, lost soul of yours and bury it deep inside where no one can hurt it. You have too much Water. Remove the emotion from your situation, and you’ll be an efficient, Balanced Sentinel machine. Just what the Council needs. Just what the Wyldlings need.

    The Water he’d fought so hard to reclaim protested.
    His Air countered with a stiff breeze of reason. Zoe’s right. It’s for the best. Let her work through her issues, and see where you end up. If you bully your way back in, she’ll resent you. If you leave her alone, she’ll respect you—maybe even miss you. Either way, you win.

    He reached the turn for Zoe’s street, hit the brakes, and slammed the Monaro’s gearshift in neutral. With a heavy stomp of his boot on the gas pedal, he revved the engine long and hard.
    God damn it.
    Let it go.

    With a deep sigh, he shifted into gear and continued straight, toward the last place he wanted to be alone: home.
    He should listen to his Air more often.

Chapter Seven
    September 3
    The dark-haired one was a little afraid of her. Whetu could tell. Every time the ambulance bounced and their arms accidentally brushed, the Erthe Elemental sitting beside her flinched.
    Though she hadn’t opened her eyes yet, Whetu knew what her rescuers looked like. Papa had painted pictures of them inside her mind. The older man with the gentle voice who smelt a bit like beer and apples was the Sentinel, Jack. His clothes were too young for him, and he had long, gray hair. He led a strange group of Elementals—his ‘Librus’ team—from America.
    Whetu had heard a lot about Americans and liked their television shows very much.
    The dark-haired Erthe Elemental was tall, and her body was more square and angular than round and soft like other women. She reminded Whetu of an Olympic gymnast she’d once watched on the telly who’d won a gold medal. She had beautiful eyes, the colors of limes. They called her Jet, which sounded like an airplane, not a name for an Earth-lover.
    Papa had shown Whetu images of the scars on Jet’s back and how they got there. Whetu was very sad that Jet had to carry so much pain to help others. Even sadder that her touch hurt Jet. She must be very lonely. Whetu knew how that felt.
    “Here we are,” Jack said. The ambulance slowed to a stop.
    “I’ll get her out.” Jet’s voice was close to Whetu’s ear.
    “Best not to risk it. Her Air zapped you pretty good when you healed her. You go open the door, and I’ll take her in. Vexx should have the extra bedroom set up.”
    Jack dragged Whetu’s gurney through the open back door, popped the wheels down, and pushed her up the driveway. The loud steel clashing with concrete hurt her ears.
    She was scared. She missed her Papa.
    A threshold rendered a bump-bump , and then the wheels quieted over carpet. The house smelt of clean laundry, air-dried on the line. Like home in Christchurch. Whetu wished she could go there now.
    The motion stopped, and a yellow-tinged breeze—how she knew it was yellow, she wasn’t sure—pushed Whetu’s long hair across her nose. It tickled, but she couldn’t move her hand to scratch. The heat of a body drew close. Cool, bubblegum scented

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