“I can get you a woman.” The Smoke Phase pointed at him like car salesman in a year end clearance commercial. “Guaranteed.”
Kingu’s mind whirled. “How?”
“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I know a little something about romance. It’s like a super-power.”
“If you’re thinking of just hiring a prostitute…”
“No,” Zakkery interrupted, “I’m thinking of finding your,” he paused as if searching for the right word, “your one.”
His one.
Kingu blinked, fascinated with that idea. There was no way the boy could pull off something so impossible. He knew that. Still, for better or worse, that probably imaginary woman was all that kept Kingu hanging on. If he could just see her, any deal would be worth it. Even a doomed chance was worth trying.
Kingu made his decision.
For the first time in his life, he felt a sense of direction that came solely from his own mind and heart and desires. He suddenly knew what to do with the rest of eternity. It seemed so obvious. If the higher gods wouldn’t give him his woman, he’d just find her and take her for himself.
“Come on, give me a shot.” Zakkery shrugged expansively. “Seriously, what do you have to lose?”
That was actually a fair point. After twelve hundred years trapped in the Air Kingdom, Kingu had no idea where to start his search. Someone would have to help him and there weren’t a lot of volunteers lining up at his door. If Zakkery was incompetent or lying to him, he could always just kill the boy and Kingu would have lost nothing.
“I don’t want a woman.” He said very clearly, just so they’d understand each other.
“No?”
“No. I want the woman. My woman.”
“Your one.” Zakkery agreed. “Great. I’ll find you a selection and you pick the girl you want. Easy. Trust me. I can do it.”
Kingu got to his feet. “You get me her and I’ll give you the necklace in return. But,” he grabbed the front of Zakkery’s hideous punk rock t-shirt and lifted him right off the ground, “you screw me over and they’ll be finding your body smeared all over three galaxies.”
Zakkery’s Union Jack patterned high-tops dangled a foot in the air, but he kept smiling. “Hey, you have my word. Everything’s gonna work out. I have a plan.”
A plan.
Kingu dropped the boy, casting a long suffering look towards the ceiling. Wonderful. Finding his woman depended on a Phase whose planning abilities had thus far gotten the strategic genius Banished. And choosing that haircut. “Your ‘plan’ doesn’t revolve around those stupid Tablets, does it?”
“Little bit.” Zakkery shrugged. “But, mostly, it just depends on how willing you are to leave the Air Kingdom.”
“You have no idea how willing I am to leave this dismal place and never see it, again.”
“Good, because all the contestants who were voted off the island?” Zakkery pointed to the Banishment mark on the back of his palm. “We’ve got ourselves a brand new kingdom, of our very own, and it’s filled with desperate women.” He nodded wisely. “I think ‘desperate’ is your type, big guy.”
Kingu grunted. “If that’s the case, at least she and I will have something in common.” Only someone completely desperate would agree to this bargain. “How long will it take you to find her?”
“Are you kidding?” Zakkery waved a dismissive hand. “It’ll be simple! What desperate girl wouldn’t jump at the chance to be Mrs. Kingu God-Monster?”
Sneak Peek
Here’s a preview of the next book in the Elemental Phases’ series:
Treasure of the Fire Kingdom
Prologue
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same
Emily Bronte- “Wuthering Heights”
“What the hell is she reading him? I hate this book. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Stop interrupting her, Alder.” Djinn jabbed a finger at his son, who was pacing around the perimeter of the dim room with sharp, agitated movements. “None of us understand it. But, she’s not reading it for us. It’s for Oberon.”
“Well, I’m sure he doesn’t like it, either. The book’s driving me nuts, trying to prop up these losers like their love is so great. He’s a lunatic sadist. She’s a frivolous bitch... And dead. Fucking deal with it and move the hell on.”
Alder absently kicked a red footstool into the wall as he past it. He didn’t bother glancing after it as it hit a table and knocked three framed photographs of the family at Disney World, a candy dish full of bullets, and a TV remote onto the floor. Oberon’s room was large, but even it couldn’t contain the restless energy of so many Fire Phases.
“I don’t understand why Cathy didn’t just marry Linton and then behead him on their wedding night while he slept.” Missy mused as if the whole concept of not committing murder-for-profit was beyond her. “It only makes sense. Then, she’d get the money and she could marry Heathcliff. Problem solved.”
“Exactly!” Alder raised his hand at his sister and let it fall in a “finally someone else sees!” sort of gesture. “Or Heathcliff could have just killed whozits-the-rich-guy, himself. How hard is it to kill one human!? That’s what I’d do if some other guy tried to steal my Match.”
“What does it matter what we read?” The weariness in Teja’s voice made it totally unrecognizable. She was slumped in a chair, her eyes unfocused as she watched her grandfather’s chest slowly move up and down. “Do you really think anything matters, now?”
Alder glowered over at his aunt. “Well, I wanna make sure Oberon enjoys this story, okay, Teja?” He was trying to keep his voice low, but it was difficult for any Fire Phase to whisper. Their personalities were just too big to dial down, even when surrounded by death and despair. “What if this is the last book he ever reads, huh?” His jaw tightened and he quickly shook that idea away. “No. I mean, it won’t be, because he’ll recover from this. But still...”
“He’s in a coma.” Even for a Fire Phase, Satour was a blunt, the-glass-is-half-empty-and-probably-broken kind of guy. From the time Oberon got sick, his pessimism had been worse than ever before. This level of bitter resignation was the equivalent of someone else sobbing on the floor. “Oberon can’t hear it, anyway.”
“I know he’s in a fucking coma, but he’s not fucking dead!” Unlike his brother, Alder wouldn’t give up on Oberon until the man drew his final breath. “He can still hear, jackass. Maybe, anyway. The doctor said so. So, why can’t she read him something he’d actually pick for himself, huh? Like porn or something?”
“She’s his granddaughter, you moron.” Satour shot back. “You think he wants to hear his granddaughter reading him porn?”
Alder wasn’t backing down. “Oh, so now he can hear, huh? I thought he was...”
“Both of you stop it.” Pele interjected before her sons came to blows. On their most agreeable days, they weren’t above a fist fight. Or sword fight. Or setting each other on fire. At the moment, with tensions running so high, they might actually do some real damage. “Satour, you’re being a bigger pain-in-the-ass than usual. And Alder, you know the doctor said that voices are what’s important, not fast paced plotlines.”
The two of them looked poised to continue the argument, but a dark voice came from the furthest corner of the room and cut them off.
“Let her read what she wants. If Oberon can hear anything, it’ll be Hope.”
Everyone turned to look at Qadesh in surprise.
That was the first thing he’d said since the beginning of the plague. It was also the first time in hours his parents and siblings had thought to include the subject of their arguments in the actual conversations. In unison, their focus shifted to Hope, of the Fire House, who sat on the edge of Oberon’s mattress, the book in her hands.
“Okay. Right. So… What do you wanna read, Hope?” Pele sounded surprised that Hope would even have an opinion.
The Fire House sort of expected Hope to just go along with
whatever they decided. Probably because she always did. They were always so confident and self-assured in their path that it seemed crazy to stop and ask for directions.
The Fire Phases were Hope’s idols. Her role models. From the time she was a little girl, Hope had been overwhelmed with the greatness of the Fire Phases. She’d come to them an orphan and Oberon had accepted her as part of his family.
Frankie, of the Heat House, Pele’s uncle, had found Hope one summer morning, a hundred and twelve years before. At a few days old, she’d been abandoned in the Agora, the Elementals’ free space. No one knew exactly where she came from or who her parents were. Frankie had scooped her up, brought her to the Fire Kingdom, handed her to Oberon and said, “This one says she belongs with you.”
Since Hope was an infant at the time, she was fairly certain she’d told him no such thing. But, then Frankie was nuts. That was a well-known, often lamented, fact. Who knew what kind of voices he heard? Who even wanted to know? Still, Frankie, was one of the few people that Oberon respected.
Oberon had taken Hope from Frankie and squinted down at her. He was a gigantic man, with an intimidating glower and hands the size of catchers’ mitts. According to all the stories she’d been told later, Oberon lifted Hope up so they were face-to-face and scowled. Hope’s response was to smile at him. Her midnight blue eyes had locked with Oberon’s brown gaze and they’d just... clicked.
“Of course she belongs here.” He authoritatively declared and gave her a little bounce in his arms.
And that was that.
Oberon simply kept her. He moved her into the gothic Fire Palace and gave her everything he’d given to his biological grandchildren. All the training and attention and blind stubborn devotion. He’d never even insinuated that she wasn’t a full-fledged member of the Fire Kingdom. And it wasn’t like anyone else was lining up to claim Hope for their House or fighting Oberon for custody. Hope wasn’t just an orphan, she was a genetic anomaly.
A freak.
All Phases had a colored streak of hair at their temple, designating their House. For the Fire Phases the marker was red, for the Water Phases it was turquoise, for the Heat Phases it was orange and so on. Only Hope didn’t have a distinguishing stripe in her ordinary blonde curls.
She’d been born without a House.
Without powers.
At least, no powers she could control. The only thing she’d ever managed to accomplish with her nonexistent “energy” was jumping from one kingdom to another. And even then, there was only a slim chance that she’d land in the right spot. When it came to harnessing any real powers, she was as helpless as a human. In fact, sometimes other Phases confused her with one.
By any objective standard, she was a useless addition to her House. Her horrible birth defect was no doubt why her parents had abandoned her in the first place. No one wanted a deformed child. But, the Fire Kingdom had given her a home and a name. Food, shelter, love, acceptance. In her heart, Oberon was her grandfather. Teja and Djinn, Oberon’s biological grandchildren, were her family, too. So were Djinn’s kids and Pele, his Match.
She loved them all beyond anything.
Granted, some of the other –no doubt jealous-- Houses compared her family to the human mafia, just because they got into a few small fights and occasionally wound up on the wrong side of the Council.
Sure, the Fire Phases were a bit outspoken and sometimes got pushed into confrontations, but they weren’t to blame for every violent crime in the realm, like so many people seemed to believe. Every time there was a mysterious disappearance or a horrific murder or some unexplained arson, the rest of the Elementals were quick to point the finger at the poor Fire House. Even when there was no – or, okay, circumstantial-- proof.
Because of their blackened reputation, Hope felt fiercely protective of her family. The Fire Phases were an upstanding and honorable House. Warriors, not mobsters. Hope would have died for them. Traded her life for any of them in a heartbeat.
If only someone had given her a choice.
Hope looked down at Oberon’s calm, sleeping face and felt moisture burning the back of her eyelids. How could her grandfather be dying like this? Fire Phases should go out gloriously, battling for some beautiful lost cause or saving the universe from evil alien overlords. They ought to have some fantastical end that people would remember forever and write odes about. They deserved to go out like the heroes they were. Not like this. Not succumbing to this terrible illness.
The Fall.
How could this tiny microbe rob him of all that vitality? Shrink his skin against his bones and devour him from the inside out? Oberon was so always powerful and so alive. How could this be happening?
The plague had begun three days before, released by Parald, of the Air House. He’d meant it as germ warfare against his enemies, but the disease quickly spread through all the Houses, infecting indiscriminately. In the Elemental realm, the dead now outnumbered the living ten to one and the illness kept spreading.
It wasn’t just Oberon who was dying; it was everyone. All the Elementals Phases. Or at least, most of them. Hope felt fine and she didn’t see any symptoms in the rest of her family, yet. But, even if they were somehow immune, it wouldn’t matter.
Without the Elementals, the world would end.
Intellectually, Hope knew that every living thing in the universe was real close to winking out like a light. All she could really focus on, though, was willing her grandfather to get well. He’d gotten sick so fast. Just a few hours before he’d been his normal boisterous self. To see him like this, so still and gray… It was like someone had ripped out her heart.
There was nothing she could do for the dying world, but she could try and comfort her grandfather with the sound of her voice. If it was the end and she died, too… Well, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than sitting with her family, arguing about what book to read.
Nowhere in the universe.
Hope cleared her throat, against another bout of tears. “This is... um... Wuthering Heights.” She held up the leather bound tome for Alder to see. Hope actually liked the story. “I could switch to Valley of the Dolls, if you’d rather. I have it here, too. I just grabbed two books from the library, earlier. I didn’t check the titles. I don’t want to go and get different ones, though, because he might not...” She trailed off, blinking hard, unwilling to finish the thought.
She didn’t want to leave the room, because Oberon might not be there when she returned.
Oh God...
Against her will, tears started falling, again. The book tumbled from Hope’s hand. Her palm grabbed the edge of the Star Wars bed sheets, bringing it up to her mouth to muffle her weeping, just in case Oberon really could still hear her somehow. Alder was right. The last doctor they tried had said was it was possible that he was somehow aware of his surroundings, even deep inside the coma. Her grandfather wouldn’t want to listen to her sob.
Satour glared over at his brother, blaming him for Hope’s emotional outburst. “Idiot. Now look what you did.”
Alder gasped in outrage. “How is it my fault!?”
“It’s my fault.” Hope whispered, her doubts eating away at her. “He wouldn’t be dying if it wasn’t for me.”
She knew it.
Hope was a jinx. She always had been.
Random crazy accidents just befell her. Socks went missing. Refrigerators fell through floors. Alder got stuck in unexplored realms for two weeks with no food. Microphones shorted out during Job’s Council speeches and electrified him. (Granted, Oberon had thought that was hilarious, but Hope was still mortified that she’d zapped the Phases’ leader, just by standing too close to him.) Once buffalo had stampeded through the living room and there weren’t any buffalo in the Elemental Realm.
If something terrible and bizarre was going to happen, it was going to happen to her.
Somehow she’d brought this plague down on the Fire House.
“He never should have adopted me. I’m bad l
uck. You know I am, no matter what the books say. I’ve told him that so many times and now this happened and…” She trailed off unable to go on because of the lump in her throat.
“It’s not your fault, Hope.” Pele had said that about fifty times already. “Fucking Parald did this. But, even if you were somehow to blame… Oberon still would have brought you here. Knowing everything that would happen, he’d do it all again. Because, you’re ours.”
Pele was probably right about Oberon’s decisions and that made it all the worse. “Maybe… But, maybe I shouldn’t be in here, right now. Maybe, I’m jinxing his recovery by sitting next to him.” The thought circled in her mind like a vulture and yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave his bedside. What if he died and she wasn’t there? She couldn’t leave him.
“This is where you belong.” Qadesh intoned. “Stay right where you are.”
Hope looked over at him, unable to see his face through the shadows. In a family that bred assassins, Qadesh was like the sniper. Quiet and watchful, he was more at home in the darkness than the light. He didn’t say anything unless he meant it and he’d always treated Hope like his baby sister.
Hope ran a hand under her nose as the rest of the family nodded in agreement, genuinely touched by the show of support. “I love you guys.” She swallowed and more tears fell. “If we all die today, I want you to know that. I love you so much.”
“Ooooohh. There, there. No one’s dead, yet.” Missy sat down next to Hope and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “And, you know, rule number ten says that Fire Phases really shouldn’t cry.”
She stage whispered that advice, not in a mean or pointed way, but as if Hope might have forgotten that rule. The family never got past the idea that Hope was a wee bit slow. Of course, Masaya, of the Fire House talked to everyone like they were about four steps behind her, so Hope didn’t take her prompting personally. Missy just thought she was the cleverest person in the room.
Usually she was right.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Hope drew in a deep breath, scrubbing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I… Look, whatever you guys want me to read, is fine. Just tell me which book you’d prefer.” She swallowed hard and looked over at Teja, expecting a ruling on the literature debate.
Exile in the Water Kingdom (The Elemental Phases Book 3) Page 41
