Gathering our abandoned suitcases, we hailed two cabs and headed straight for the clan quarter.

I suggested stopping by a café on the way, but Sally immediately shot the idea down.

"You want to insult Aunt Mary?"

Sally always called her "Aunt," even though in the family tree she was technically her grandmother. But she was far too young for the title. That was because my father and Uncle Gordon were born from my grandfather's second marriage, coming into the world a good twenty years after Uncle Bryce.

Gordon's only son, my cousin Evan, was just a few years younger than Bryce, and Evan's daughter, Sally, was actually older than me.

Not that it complicated family dynamics in the slightest.

"Pies!" I sighed dreamily.

"She hasn't seen you in nearly a year," Sally smirked. "Remember how she and Mum fed me after that two-month hunt?"

"You Kinkaids," Chris McLilly muttered, "are all mad when it comes to food. I roll out of my mother-in-law's house like a bloody football."

The closer we got to the house, my inheritance from Grandfather, the more emotions churned inside me. Excitement gave way to embarrassment, embarrassment turned to sadness, but soon joy took over, the joy of coming home.

For the Earl of Bremor, my grandfather's house was nothing more than a tiny cottage, just two stone floors with a library, study, and a cramped little attic-bedroom upstairs.

The ground floor had a parlor with a fireplace and a large radio, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a master bedroom — mine. The basement housed an alchemy lab and a summoning circle. More working space than living. For four people, it was a tight fit, and the girls' families wouldn't have let them stay at my place anyway.

We had agreed from the start that Sally would host them, but our first dinner awaited us here, at my house.

In the cozy parlor, which somehow always managed to fit more guests than seemed possible, the fireplace crackled softly. A lavish feast was already set on the table.

Aunt Mary, like a seasoned general, commanded her two eldest daughters, Evie and Ellie, who swiftly whisked away our coats and sat us down.

Simon was staring at Evie with great interest.

She was my age, but to me, she had always been a source of trouble, a persistent little gnat buzzing around when I was trying to train. None of Gordon's three daughters had inherited a scrap of magical talent, as if it had all been spent on Logan. But they hadn't given up. They had tagged along to our lessons anyway. Then again, Logan himself hadn't shown his talent right away either.

Now, noticing Simon's keen gaze, I suddenly felt uneasy.

I knew plenty of young men had been interested in my cousin before, but one sharp look from Logan had always been enough to put an end to any improper thoughts.

Now, Logan wasn't here. And Evie had noticed Simon's attention.

She smiled.

I didn't like it.

I suddenly felt the unshakable duty of an older brother, because this drunken scoundrel was certainly not a match for a Kinkaid daughter.

Thankfully, the baronet had been seated right next to me.

"Simon," I murmured in a low, menacing whisper.

"Hm?"

"I'll tear it off."

"What?" he blinked.

I gave him a pointed look, right at his lap.

"Don't even think about it," I hissed. "Actually, no. Think about how many relatives she has who would gladly rip your head off if you so much as upset her."

"Maybe she'd be happy about it," Simon replied, still in that damn carefree tone of his.

My jaw clenched so tight my muscles twitched.

"…Joking!" he corrected quickly.

"What are you two whispering about?" Finella asked.

"Oh, I'll tell you later," Ellie promised cheerfully.

She wasn't the only one who had overheard.

"Don't worry, mate," McLilly said. "They scared me the same way."

"Shifters," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Has no one ever taught you that eavesdropping is rude?"

"I was taught how to eavesdrop properly," Chris countered smoothly before turning to Ellie. "And you?"

"No, no one ever taught me."

"Appalling gap in your education! I'll give you a few lessons while you're staying with us."

The rest of dinner passed in the same joking manner. Simon, to his credit, took my warning seriously. He kept his lecherous glances to himself.

My sisters, however, were another matter.

To my horror, even Ellie, who was only fifteen, was staring at him with a certain interest. I shot her a look that promised a serious earful later. Then again, I doubted it would be necessary — Aunt Mary had noticed too.

By nightfall, the family had gone their separate ways.

I set Simon up in my old bedroom, while I took my grandfather's, which was barely bigger than a cupboard.

Sleep refused to come.

So I got up, went to the study, and spent nearly the entire night leafing through Grandfather's journals. At some point, I must have dozed off right there in his armchair.

A voice roused me.

"Wake up, brother."

I forced my eyes open, and through the blur of sleep, I saw Logan and his fiancée. Jenny was tall, statuesque, with dark hair and an impressive breast that turned every male head.

Of course, the bruiser standing next to her had a way of redirecting those gazes, mostly with the silent promise of broken limbs and gouged-out eyes. Even I, after momentarily losing focus, quickly snapped out of it.

"Morning, lovebirds."

"We brought breakfast," Logan announced.

"We still have plenty left from last night's feast."

"Jenny cooked it herself."

"Well, in that case, of course!" I replied gallantly. Couldn't go around offending anyone, after all.

For breakfast, Jenny had made meat stew and rhubarb pie. Her cooking was… decent. Nowhere near Aunt Mary's level, but Logan wouldn't have cared. He'd gladly eat burnt leather off her hands and praise every bite.

It seemed their love had reached such a peak that it had made them both completely ridiculous. Not that I minded. They were blissfully happy, and I could only be glad for them.

Simon, however, looked like he was about to be sick. His face twisted in visible disgust every time they so much as cooed at each other.

Or… was he hungover again? No, that didn't seem right, he'd had no time for that, and there was no smell of alcohol.

"I hear you made quite the impression last night," Logan said.

"You mean the werewolf?"

"That's the one. Haven't had a stir like this in ages."

"Not since Duncan left, I'd wager," Kettle muttered.

Logan froze, counted something in his head, then blinked.

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"…Yeah."

"Two vampire nests have already burned down in Farnell," Simon noted.

"Well, that's good news!" my brother said, genuinely surprised.

There was nothing to argue with there. Simon kept chewing in silence, while Logan seemed to gather his thoughts before turning back to me.

"Speaking of bloodsuckers — terrible, merciless ones. There's a Great Council meeting tonight. You're being summoned."

"Why?" I frowned. "And what do vampires have to do with it? Are there problems in the clan I don't know about?"

"No. Well… our elders will be drinking our blood."

Simon snapped his head up.

"Your clan has some… interesting customs."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Logan groaned. "Does no one around here understand jokes?"

For a while, we ate in silence. Logan sulked.

"So… why exactly am I being summoned?" I asked again.

"Something about construction and trade with your mentor."

"That's tonight. What are we doing now?"

Simon, for once, volunteered an idea.

"You mentioned you have a Place of Power — lightning. Can we go see it?"

Logan nodded.

"We can ride there, actually," he said. "Now that you're no longer marked as a predator, the horses won't be afraid of you."

"Yeah, but I still don't know how to ride," I pointed out. "Maybe we should go on foot, like before?"

We didn't. Logan took Father's Cooper, while Sally and Chris borrowed their Austin.

We packed blankets and throws, the girls prepared a picnic, and for the next hour, we rattled along an old dirt road, heading toward the neighboring county of Elphshire. Ever since they had built the bypass road fifty years ago, equipped with a network of protective seals on signal posts, this route had been used only by hunters tracking gifted beasts. Ordinary folk didn't risk running into thunder wolves.

The old road passed just six kilometers from the Place of Power. And those six kilometers… we did have to walk. Backpacks on our backs, rifles over our shoulders, sawed-off shotguns holstered at our belts, and baskets in hand.

The forest air was cold, damp, and crystal clear. Nothing like Farnell, where the stench of burnt-out engines was quickly overtaken by the aroma of fresh pastries, and the perfume of a lady mingled with the stale breath of a factory worker's hangover.

Here, the air smelled of the earliest spring herbs. Beneath the fallen leaves, sprouts of green were bursting through, tiny white and blue flowers dotting the ground. Bushes were already in bloom, but the beeches and oaks were still bare, reluctant to bud. Through their skeletal crowns, the cold blue sky stretched endlessly above us.

We spotted Bald Hill from afar, and immediately caught the scent of wet, charred wood. As we neared, the trees thinned, their trunks twisting into gnarled, knotty shapes.

The closer we got, the fewer trees remained, and those that did were warped and broken. Many bore burn marks from lightning strikes, while those closest to the hill had been charred black.

There would have been far more of them, if not for the three-meter metal lightning rod standing at the hill's center. Around it, lush greenery flourished, while wooden posts dotted the ground, each topped with gleaming reservoir stones.

Not all of them.

A few bore scorched marks, blackened where lightning had struck.

I'd walked this path countless times, but never before had I felt the sting of lightning magic so sharply. The moment we passed the first twisted beech, a prickling static charge crawled over my skin.

Behind me, Simon cursed, half startled, half awed, and froze in place.

I opened my third eye.

The world blurred into thick violet swirls, the reservoir stones shone like brilliant sparks, while something darker moved between them.

I blinked my third eye, and the unnatural way the grass bristled suddenly became clear.

"Shit."

I raised a hand, signaling the group to stop, and rested my palm on my shotgun's grip.

"Logan, elemental," I warned.

Logan's eyes flashed. He dropped his backpack in one smooth motion.

It didn't happen often, but it did happen. Especially when the pack that lived near the Place of Power had been absent for too long. Most of the excess magic was absorbed by the stones. The rest was drawn in by the animals.

We never hunted the wolves to extinction. In fact, we took care of the pack, which had lived here for centuries. It was their proximity to the Place of Power that turned them into thunder wolves, and their generations of exposure that sped up the transformation.

Our rifles were designed for thunder wolves, but normally, they didn't interfere when we came to collect the stones. They knew what would happen to the pack if they picked a fight with a human here. We were the true apex predators of this forest.

When the wolves couldn't consume the excess magic, it was absorbed by the plants. The spark-bells flourished. Tiny flowers used to brew acceleration potions. But right now, the plants hadn't awakened yet. And the lingering magic had taken on a consciousness of its own.

In my experience, that never meant anything good. Elementals were like guard dogs, they reacted sharply to intrusions. But this one was still pacing lazily, paying no attention to us yet. We hadn't crossed the invisible threshold into its territory.

I let go of my shotgun handle, slung off my backpack, and dropped my rifle. Logan, ever methodical, checked his shotgun's chamber.

"What exactly are you two planning?" Simon asked warily.

Logan pulled a single shell from his cartridge belt and tossed it to Kettle.

"Quartz shot instead of pellets," Kettle announced, omitting the fact that it was charged with earth magic, a byproduct of cutting reservoir crystals.

Not that Simon needed telling. The moment he caught the shell, he felt it.

"Are you planning to kill it?!" the sorcerer protested.

"And you're against that?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"I am!" the baronet confirmed, puzzling me even more.

"Explain. As long as it's here, we can't get any closer."

"Do you know who taught the first sorcerers?" he asked.

Finella scoffed.

"That's just a pretty fairy tale, Simon."

"Well, what have we got to lose?" the baronet argued.

Kettle had one big problem, for all his raw power, his control was terrible. His entire arsenal boiled down to a strong electrical discharge in close combat. Unlike Finella, he couldn't shape energy into fireballs or beams. And he desperately wanted to learn how to summon a proper lightning bolt.

I had to spell it out for him.

"Hate to disappoint you, but it's not sentient. At least not in the way people understand the word. And it definitely can't speak, let alone teach."

"Don't treat me like an idiot," the baronet snapped.

"When Finella showed me a fireball, she told me to feel the way the fire currents twisted. But I can't feel fire, no matter how closely it's related to lightning."

"I can feel air, though. Took a few lessons from an air sorcerer. But with prices like his, I'd be begging on the streets in no time. My week-long drinking sprees were cheaper than his tuition."

"So," Logan said, "you're saying you can feel something here?"

"You have no idea," Simon breathed.

"It's like stumbling out of darkness into the sun. This place is incredible."

"Then go," Logan said. "We'll be right behind you.

If it attacks — we shoot."

"It will attack," Simon said with certainty. "But don't shoot. Lightning won't do me much harm. Just give me a couple of minutes, don't interfere."

"Sorry," my brother said firmly. "I can't allow a guest to be injured."

"Let's agree that you won't let me die," Simon countered.

"A little suffering I can handle. You've got a wedding coming up. Either way, I'll be suffering from a hangover soon enough."

It was a joke, but there was a real hope in his voice.

"Let him try," Finella said unexpectedly.

"This could actually help."

Logan and I exchanged glances. Silently, we came to an agreement.

"Fine. We'll step in when we decide it's necessary."

"Girls," I turned to the others, "how about a picnic right here? Bit of a burnt smell, but at least we get front-row seats to a show."

The girls agreed and quickly laid out the blankets.

Simon took a deep breath, centered himself, and adjusted to the energy around him. Then he walked straight toward the elemental, which was still invisible to the naked eye. To everyone except Jenny, at least.

By Simon's fourth step, the elemental stirred. Short bolts of electricity bristled from its form.

Earth elementals often took on humanoid or beast-like shapes. But a lightning elemental? This one looked like a hairy, floating cucumber.

It didn't walk. It didn't fly. It jerked from place to place in rapid, sharp bursts, its lightning tendrils stretching out toward its next position, then snapping back to pull its invisible body along. The entire movement took fractions of a second.

"Don't shoot!" Simon pleaded as the cucumber launched toward him.

Nine bursts. Barely two seconds. It was right on top of him. A lightning bolt flashed.

Kettle hit the ground.

The elemental was flung back, crashing into the lightning rod.

"Don't shoot!" Simon repeated.

Still sitting on the ground, he reached into his pocket. Pulled out a handful of coins. He flicked one toward the elemental, channeling a tiny spark into the metal. It was a trick he had learned in the vampire dungeons. Back there, the distances were shorter.

The metal connected the charge, directing bolts straight into enemies' bodies. But here —

Here, something was different. The lightning broke off after only half a meter. The coin still reached its target, but the bolt refused to follow.

The cucumber watched Simon struggle for about a minute, then shot a thick bolt of lightning straight at him.

The baronet landed on his arse again, this time with a burn hole in his coat.

"Don't shoot!" he barked, happily patting out the flames on his chest. Then he jumped back up and marched toward the elemental.

"Come on, brother, surprise me! Let's go!"

Another lightning bolt flashed.

His coat caught fire again, but this time, Simon stayed on his feet and even tried to return fire.

Sparks flickered over his hand only to fizzle out with a feeble crackle.

The elemental struck him again.

Kettle snuffed out the flames, and sent out another burst of useless sparks.

Logan and I exchanged glances again. Then we holstered our weapons and returned to the girls. By now, they had already unpacked the picnic, pulling out eggs baked in sausage cups, beef sandwiches, and a thermos of mulled wine.

Watching Simon struggle suddenly became far more entertaining. The elemental wasn't even moving, just methodically ruining the baronet's clothing without a care. Relaxing, we allowed ourselves a few jokes at Simon's expense.

About half an hour later, Kettle suddenly let off a lightning bolt, a crooked arc that slithered across the ground before fading out. It didn't even reach the elemental.

We clapped anyway.

The cucumber, however, was less amused. It twitched in anger, then launched itself straight at Simon.

The baronet managed to fire one more bolt, and even hit his mark when the gap between them closed to a meter and a half, but this time, the elemental didn't even react.

It slammed into him, knocked him to the ground then latched on, sinking all of its lightning tendrils into Simon's body. They flashed like sparklers in the night.

Logan and I moved instantly.

In seconds, we were at point-blank range — and fired.

The quartz shot tore through the elemental like a gust of wind shredding smoke. At least with earth elementals, you got trophies. This one just dispersed into nothing.

I'd have to talk to Harry. Maybe there was a way to extract something.

"You alive?" I asked Simon.

His body was still smoldering.

"Alive and kicking!" the baronet declared, springing to his feet.

His hair was standing on end, spiked like a hedgehog's quills, and he was grinning like a complete maniac. He turned toward the lightning rod, stretched out a hand, and fired a bolt.

It fizzled out three meters away, never reaching the post.

"YES!" he shouted in triumph.

"Well done," Logan patted him on the back.

"Now go wrap yourself in a blanket before you catch cold. Girls, take care of him."

Meanwhile, Logan and I gathered the charged reservoir stones and set empty ones in their place. A few wooden posts needed replacing, but it didn't take long. Afterward, Finella, Simon, and I meditated, each for our own reasons.

I, for one, was refilling my elemental source. Not a pleasant process. Especially with a prickly element like lightning. Felt like a hedgehog had settled in my bladder. But I gritted my teeth and endured it. Endured until my meditation was over. Endured as I forced Simon to leave, he didn't want to. Endured on the walk back to the cars. Endured the whole ride home.

By the time we arrived, I was so pale from pain that my friends started worrying.

And for what?

By evening, the magic had vanished from my source completely.

Not a trace left.

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