Page 9 of Sun and Stone (Elementally Yours #5)

9. On the Case

It takes about a week after Fynn comes back into my life for him to be ready to sort out his magical problems. Then it’s time to get down to business. What's up with Fynn's magic?

Liam Monroe hands Fynn a clay sundial with a frown on his face. "A little too on the nose if you ask me."

"Are your nightbrand sensibilities offended?" I tease.

"Subtlety is an art form." Liam glances at my bright yellow scarf and sighs. "Clearly it's lost on you."

"Sun casters like that," Fynn adds. "Everything being clear."

Yeah. Hopefully what we're doing today can answer some of the questions regarding Fynn's powers. I promised him I'd be there for him, and I meant it.

My inconvenient but totally inevitable feelings will just have to shut up while we investigate the issues with his magic.

The sundial is a dark, rusty orange color and shaped like the sun, with a round face and pointed rays extending out from the center. Fynn turns it over in his hands as he examines it.

"It's a magical sundial," Liam explains. "Designed to measure the strength of a caster's sun magic instead of time." Okay, the professor has a point; that is pretty on the nose, but it could be exactly what we need. "Give it a try. Let's see how it reacts to you."

Fynn's gaze flicks over to me, and I offer him a reassuring smile. "Go ahead."

With a deep breath, he nods. "Alright, let's do this. Will you turn off the lights for me?"

Since Professor Monroe is one of my oldest friends, he doesn't mind helping us even though Fynn isn't a student. Though I'm older and started school before him, we were students together once, except he was studying education instead of magic. School couldn't help him with the kinky ways he uses his powers.

I hop up and cross the distance in the small office quickly, flicking off the switch, plunging the room into darkness. The silence stretches on as we wait in the darkness. I wait against the door to avoid crashing into the chairs or a bookcase in the cramped office. Then, slowly, a warm glow begins to emanate from Fynn's direction.

What starts off as strong as the light from a flashlight turns into a brightness that rivals the bulb in here. Fynn lights up the small room and the sundial glows in his hands, seeming to pulse with energy.

A traditional sundial tells the time by the way the shadows fall on its surface. This one reacts differently, responding to sun magic by glowing. Glowing a ton. Damn, if it gets any stronger, I'll need sunglasses.

"Okay, good," Liam says. "Even indoors with a nightbrand wizard in the room, your powers are strong. The dial isn't casting any shadow at all, which means your sun magic is at its peak right now."

"Interesting," Fynn murmurs, his gaze fixed on the glowing sundial. "So, uh, we need to make the dial do… not this?"

Liam nods. "The glow will dim, and the magic will cast its own shadow on the dial, if it detects any weakness from you. I was hoping a demonstration would show you, but this is good too. We can safely assume this is about full strength. You need to find what makes your powers weaker."

Part of the reason Fynn gave up trying to gain magic permanently was because he thought his powers were fading and giving out as he got closer to the limits of his body's tolerance for magic. Yet his power is stronger than ever right now. What was causing his issue? We need to figure it out so it doesn't happen again.

I clap my hands together, eager to get started, and don't bother sitting back down. "Alright, sounds easy enough."

"It shouldn't be," Liam cautions immediately. He rummages through some of the files the testing center sent over. "Your dwindling powers were confirmed by multiple assessors. A testing center doesn't make a mistake like that, not over numerous visits. Your powers were registered as weak because they were weak. And given that they're so strong now, there's more to this than just a stamina issue or something minor. What’s changed between then and now?"

Fynn looks a bit overwhelmed but manages a small smile. "Guess that's what we need to find out."

"Ready when you are," I speak up by the door.

Fynn rises slowly, and Liam gives me a warning look. “And if you need to take a break for any reason, let Perry know. Don’t let him push you too hard.”

“Hey!” I protest. That’s not fair.

“You tend to get carried away whenever, what’s the expression, the game is on?”

“Afoot,” I correct. “The game is afoot. 'The game is on' is just what people say when watching sports.” I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, sports.”

“Whatever you say, Detective Per.” Liam smirks at me, and Fynn is watching us with growing interest. I realize it is past time we got the hell out of here before the professor embarrasses me.

With my colorful scarves and chatty nature, most people wouldn’t guess by looking at me that I have a serious streak and can focus on the gritty details. Maybe that's part of what drew me to the rock element.

I love a good mystery. Not that I've ever had the opportunity to solve a real one. I usually get my fix of the mystery genre though books and video games. But it's been a while since I've dived into a good mystery. I can't wait to get started.

I bounce on my toes as we step out onto the sprawling Primrose University campus. The historic buildings and lively atmosphere have long since lost their shine for me. I do love the place, it's like a second home, and a much nicer home than my small apartment. But I'm sick of being a student.

Yet today I see campus with new eyes, a spring in my step as I lead him down the familiar paths.

"You do love a mystery, don't you?" Fynn says, glancing at me with a wry smile.

I grin back. "No, I like solving a mystery." There's a difference, after all. The thrill is in piecing together the clues and unraveling the puzzle.

Before Fynn can respond, something catches my eye - a new flowerbed, the soil freshly turned, little shoots of green sprouting, and not a single bloom in sight. Perfect.

I grab his hand and tug him over, practically buzzing with excitement. "Okay, let's see what you can do."

He hesitates, glancing around uncertainly. "Right here? In the middle of campus?"

"Yes, right here! Come on, Fynn, don't hold back. Show me what you've got."

I already saw him heal a dying plant in the coffee shop with ease, so this shouldn't be much different.

He chews on his lower lip for a moment, then sighs and steps forward, turning his face up to the sun. I watch as the warm light seems to flow into him, illuminating him from within. His eyes flutter closed, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and then—whoa.

I was wrong. Making flowers grow is a lot different than healing one plant. It's breathtaking.

The flowers explode into bloom, green stalks shooting up from the ground. Then buds develop and unfurl in seconds, vibrant pink petals suddenly everywhere.

I let out a breathless laugh, my gaze darting from the sundial in my hands to Fynn and back again. The dial is glowing brightly, no shadow in sight, a testament to the sheer sun power he wields.

But what really catches my attention is Fynn himself.

His face is illuminated by the warm light, green eyes so bright and lovely as he leans down, brushing the soft petals with his fingers as he inhales their scent.

It's not just the magic he cares about. He doesn't just make the flowers bloom, he stops to smell and savor their scent too, enjoying what he created. There's a sense of power and confidence radiating from him that I haven't seen before.

He steps back from the flowerbed with a contented sigh, then notices me watching and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Earthbrands have more of a green thumb honestly, but this isn't too shabby, right?"

Both earthbrands and sunbrands have more gifts with greenery than me. Rock and earthbrands are similar. Earth can mean anything from the literal ground and soil to the things that grow from said soil. But us rock casters are no good with the green stuff. We aren't good at growing things or tending to them. So, I'm suitably impressed.

"Wow," I breathe. "You're incredible."

"No surprise there," Fynn says. "My powers should be strong right now in broad daylight."

"Still, we have to start somewhere."

"I’m just not sure what we’re going to learn. We’re outside in the afternoon on a sunny day. The sun fuels my powers."

Okay, he has a point. Any decent sun caster would light up the dial like a Christmas tree right now. But… "If you can’t do something, then that means we have our next lead."

"Or we could wait until the sun starts setting?" he suggests.

"Oh come on, the game is afoot. We’re just getting started."

It's like I'm sun powered too, fully charged and ready to go. I grab Fynn's hand and try to pull him along with me… he only takes a few steps before stopping, not nearly so eager to solve this puzzle as I am.

Huh. Maybe the good professor had a point after all.

"Am I doing it?" I wonder. "The getting carried away thing? Do you need a break, Honey?"

"I’m just nervous. Going from barely casting to taking a good hard look at my magic is overwhelming." Fynn starts edging off the path and onto the campus lawn, our hands still joined, and I follow his lead and join him. He gives me a small smile. "Will you tell me more about amateur detective Perry?"

"Liam’s right," I say. "I do like cracking fictional cases. All the non-magical books I own are mysteries. And it's possible that the only reason I play video games is for the mystery genre."

"Why do you like mysteries so much?"

"Who knows?" I shrug. "Liam has speculated that since I can't solve the mystery of my own magic, I like puzzles with set answers. Fiction has formulas you can follow to solve problems and uncover the truth."

"Is Liam right?"

“Maybe somewhat. But Argyle says games are just fun and you feel smart when you figure it out without using online guides." I like his theory better. There's no great mystery to my love of mysteries. They're just fun. I grin. "The nymph is an underrated genius."

Fynn smiles at me, and he seems calmer than he was a few minutes ago. He takes a deep breath. “Well, I think I know where to find a lead.”

“At your hotel?” I guess.

“No. Liam got me thinking when he said to look for what’s different. My hotel room only has some essential items. Most of my stuff is in storage right now. Maybe that’s part of it? I did cast a few times to see if my strength came back, and it never did, but that was before I moved here. So maybe one of my possessions was affecting me negatively. And now that I’ve been away from the problem, my powers are back.”

Makes sense. He relocated because there were opportunities here for his work, which meant putting his things in storage until he found somewhere larger and more permanent than a hotel room. All we need to do is dig through the items he packed away and see if any of them were interfering with his powers.

It's a good place to start. What those in the detective business call a lead.

Wow. The game really is afoot.

Well, Fynn lived over two hours away before he moved, and his storage facility is closer to where he lived before, so we have to drive there. Then the game will be very much afoot.

~

It's later in the afternoon, almost evening, when we get to Fynn's storage unit.

We stare into the dark confines of the large unit. The vague outline of boxes piled high over my head is visible, but the hallway is dimly lit to begin with, and it’s impossible to make anything out.

I nudge Fynn. “Light it up.”

He reaches inside, feeling around. “The light switch is—"

"No, use your powers. That’s why we’re here."

"That's too simple. I had a break while we drove over here. This won’t reveal a thing."

"It might, if something in there is really to blame for your troubles."

He agrees with me, because a moment later, the space lights up and the sundial glows. No change. Fynn looks smug. Alright, guess he only did that to prove me wrong. Good thing he’s cute smug.

“Worth a try,” I say.

“There’s a mountain of stuff in here, some of which is magical. Might be hard to learn anything with everything all piled up on top of each other.”

Good point. Okay, we need a plan.

“Why don’t we look around and see if anything catches our eye? Once we have a pile, we can find somewhere to cast and test each object one at a time.”

While we don’t have much to go on, we could still discover something. Magical senses and caster intuition aren’t foolproof, but they do come in handy often. Now that we’re searching for anything out of the ordinary or something that doesn’t feel right, we may see something Fynn missed before.

Fynn eyes the crowded space warily. “Sorting through all this will take time and the sun is already going down.”

His powers will naturally wane as the moon rises and the sun sets. His magic won’t totally shut off, but it could make what we’re doing trickier.

“How about we just do some sorting tonight? If we find anything interesting, we’ll test it tomorrow.” Or maybe he’s had enough for the day? I stop and focus on him. “Unless you need a break?”

“No, let’s keep going.” He frowns, looking at all the boxes. "There's so much here. I’ll feel better if we at least get started tonight.”

We walk further into the storage space, and Fynn spreads his arms, light flowing out of him as he ensures the whole room is lit up.

A box catches my eye. “Oh, this is where I’m starting. Your old DVD collection.”

“Are you looking for magical items or snooping?” he asks with amusement.

"I’m multitasking."

And curious about his taste in movies.

We spread out and search different areas. Fynn likes rom-coms and classic movies, which isn't too much of a surprise.

The next discovery makes me gasp and run over to him. “What is this and how soon can you put it on?”

“Huh? Oh, just an old Halloween costume.”

The costume is a lab coat and stethoscope. It makes me want to play doctor and have Dr. Fynn examine me.

He sighs. "We’re on a mission here, remember?"

"This is so much more important," I insist.

"Thought you were a detective. You’re just a perv."

"Guilty," I agree without shame. I put the costume down because it doesn’t seem like Fynn is in the mood for dress up time right now. Maybe I'll take it with us when we leave.

My eyes light up and I cackle when discovering another box. “And I’m not the only pervert here.”

"Hey, who are you calling—oh."

I hold up a box labeled 'sex toys.' Grinning victoriously, I open the box… and stare down into the last thing I expected. “So many questions. Why do you have a box marked sex toys? And why is the box filled with kitchen utensils? Do I want to know?”

“Kitchen utensils aren’t my version of sex toys,” he says dryly, though he looks a bit embarrassed.

"Okay? No judgment if they are, I just can’t really see it. A wooden spoon or maybe a baster or something phallic, sure. But I can't picture how a whisk or colander is sexual."

"Oh my god, stop talking," he begs. "My younger brother was packing up around the same time as me and moving to the college dorms. I gave him plenty of my stuff and didn’t want him to take anymore."

"So you mislabeled the kitchen box as sex toys," I fill in.

“Yeah,” he says. "No one wants hand-me-down sex toys, right? Especially from family members."

"Right…” Though his reasoning is somewhat adorable, I decide to drop this topic and move on to something else that catches my attention. “You have a brother?"

"Two and one sister," Fynn says. "I'm the oldest."

"Oh, big family."

There’s still a lot I don’t know about him. Even basic stuff, like his family history. Then again, why do I need to know more details about his life? Our arrangement is strictly friends with benefits.

I try to hide my reaction, but something must show on my face since Fynn notices. "Guess once we get all this settled, we'll need to fill each other in. I'd like to know more about you too."

"Cool." The idea of learning more about him appeals to me, but I play it off, busying myself with another box.

And what I find in the box may help with getting to know him. This seems to be a box of baby toys.

"Are these your childhood stuffed animals?"

"Oh god, are they? I didn’t even know they were in here. Mom must have unloaded the box on me."

"What is this?" I wonder, holding up an animal shaped… thing.

"Arnie!" Fynn exclaims with a smile.

"It has a name." 'Thing' seems more appropriate than 'Arnie.' It's a pudgy, brown thing with a long tail and a hard little body. I can envision it terrifying children and eating them for dinner, not comforting them.

"Arnie is an armadillo," he corrects me primly. "And he was my favorite when I was three years old."

"Why do you have a toy armadillo?"

He makes a face and shrugs. "…Uh, you know what? I have no idea. Maybe it’s from a trip to the southwest or somewhere associated with armadillos?"

"Here, did you miss your bestie? I'm happy to reunite you two." I hold out the toy, but Fynn refuses to grab Arnie from me.

"I'm a grown man," he reminds me. "Haven't used a stuffed animal in decades."

"Don't be shy, hug him," I insist. "He’s an emotional support armadillo."

"Shut up."

Apparently, I've decided Arnie the armadillo can fly because I use my hand to make him soar around the room, making zoom and whoosh noises as he circles closer and closer to Fynn. He bats the toy away, and I veer off and then cruise back to him, coming in for another landing.

We play around for a minute until a mishap occurs.

One moment we're messing around and then I accidentally step on something and trip. I crash into boxes and Fynn, and he tries to help me, but we both end up crashing to the ground.

Clattering and commotion follows, not helped by the lights going out. We're plunged into darkness.

"Oh," he mutters beside me. "I was lighting everything up.” Until he got knocked off balance. “We forgot to turn the lights on."

Fynn lit up the storage locker to see if his powers were still strong. Then we got distracted and started looking around. We never turned on the actual lights. And now we're somewhere in the middle of the storage locker in the dark. Surrounded by boxes that might make navigating through the darkness tricky.

I feel partially responsible for this turn of events. Good thing Fynn can't see my embarrassment in the dark.

"Do you know where the entrance is?" I wonder.

"Over there—ow.” Fynn must point, and I hear his hand collide with a nearby box. “The path isn't clear."

I brace my hand against the side of a nearby box as I begin pulling myself up to my feet. As I start to rise, I use the top of the box for support and my palm suddenly breaks through the thin cardboard, making me lose my balance. With a startled yelp, I tumble back down to the hard floor in an ungraceful heap.

The box lid clatters against the concrete. The lid wasn't sealed properly, which I couldn't see in the dark.

"This is absurd," I complain to Fynn, the boxes, and the universe. Vague shapes loom all around us, creating a maze of obstacles in the small storage unit.

Fynn shifts beside me, his voice laced with amusement. "We’re two grown men. Who knew all it would take to defeat us is a crowded space and the dark?"

"Oh, I always knew I would go out doing something stupid."

"Are you saying this is the end?"

"No, I refuse to die with Arnie watching." That’s exactly what that bastard wants.

"He can't see you."

"Armadillos can see in the dark, right?"

"I have no idea," he admits, and then we both dissolve into a fit of giggles. The absurdity of our situation is just too much.

"Where's your phone?" I ask, reaching into my pocket to check for my own cell. No luck. "Mine is in the car."

"It's here… somewhere. It was on one of these boxes."

"Just light the room again," I suggest.

"Because that’s working so well for us now," he grumbles.

Normally I’d find him being snarky cute, but I’d like to stop being bested by boxes and nighttime. "Light up the room so we can find the entrance and then turn on the lights," I explain.

"Oh… good point."

"Thank you." I smile, wishing I could see what Fynn looks like embarrassed.

There’s silence while waiting for him to reactivate his magic. Nothing happens.

"I’m waiting."

"I’m trying," he says.

"What?"

"I can’t. It’s not working.” There’s urgency in his voice. “Perry it’s not working."

"How hard did you fall?"

"Knocked the wind out of me for a second, not enough to do this.”

“Is the moon too strong?” I wonder.

“We’re inside and it’s not very late. A small glow shouldn’t give me any trouble. Hold on, I’ll try again."

Fynn sounds worried, so I start feeling around with my hands, trying to find his phone. My fingers brush against the cool concrete floor and the rough edges of cardboard as I search.

A weak, almost pitiful glow flickers to life in Fynn's hands. Barely enough to see by, but it's something. The sundial's whereabouts are also a mystery, but it's clear enough without the tool that this isn't Fynn at his best.

I use the faint light, straining my eyes… bingo. There's his phone.

The screen illuminates brightly, almost too bright after the darkness, and I quickly switch on the flashlight.

The beam cuts through the dimness, revealing Fynn in all his disheveled glory. He’s a mess, an adorable, tangled mess. One foot is stuck in a box overflowing with stuffed animals, the plush toys trying to claim him as one of their own. His left arm is buried in another box.

I would normally enjoy the hell out of a sight like this. But he looks scared.

“Perry,” he whispers. “I’m holding onto something.”

"What is it?"

Slowly, he raises his hand. The object catches the phone’s light, casting colorful reflections all around us. Stained glass pieces form a sun pattern.

"It's a suncatcher," Fynn says, voice trembling slightly. "You hang it in a window so it sparkles in the light." His fingers trace the edges slowly, as if grappling with the memories attached to it.

Oh my god. Fynn was holding onto that and struggled to use his powers.

We did it. We found what we were looking for.

Sure, we literally stumbled onto it, but still, we cracked the case. This is what weakened his powers and led him to giving up on ever getting permanent magic.

"This is it, right? This suncatcher drained your powers?"

"Maybe," Fynn murmurs.

I lean in closer, squinting to get a better look at the colorful glass piece in his hand. It catches the light from my phone, casting a rainbow of hues across his face. Fynn looks almost mesmerized by it, like he's seeing it for the first time.

"Where'd you get it?" I wonder.

"It-it was a gift from my ex. Malcolm."

"Your ex-boyfriend?"

Fynn makes a choked noise. "Actually, he's my ex-fiancée."