“Not last time I checked,” I said dryly.
“This is fascinating,” said Sip, examining the paper. “Your ring is relatively new. It was made of older stones, and is considered invaluable.”
“What about all the other elemental rings?” I asked. “Whatever happened to them when the elementals died?”
Sip looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, I bet they were gathered somewhere.”
“And put away for safekeeping,” I said.
“And where is safer than an archive?” Sip asked quietly.
We looked around. All we saw was stacks of books, but given the importance of magical objects in the paranormal world - the Museum of Masks kept a certain branch of them safe, after all - there had to be more here in the archive, if only we could find them.
Sip and I both jumped to our feet and frantically started looking around.
There were boxes and chests, drawers and more boxes. We tore them apart. I tried to use my magic to sense other elemental magic, but it was useless. Archiving an object dampened or switched off its magic for a long time, so it was going to take more than my calling it to awaken the rings again.
After a while, the initial energy of our inspiration wore out, and we sat down and stared at each other.
“There’s another floor,” Sip said, pointing upward.
I followed her hand and sighed. It was starting to feel hopeless. But I glanced at my friend and said, “I guess we’ve come this far.”
She nodded.
In the middle of the room was a spiral staircase that led up to a loft, and Sip and I headed straight for it. As we carefully climbed upwards the steps creaked and groaned under our weight, as if they hadn’t been used for a long time. I felt the layer of dust under my shoes and I reached to grab the railing for support, but it looked even more decrepit than the steps.
Once we were safely off the stairs, Sip lit a candle. The loft very much resembled an attic, and it smelled even more of must and old things than the big room downstairs. It was chock full of stuff.
“How are we ever going to find anything in all this mess?” I asked.
“Over here,” said Sip. “The boxes are blue and brown.”
“They might just be brown from dirt,” I said skeptically.
“No,” said Sip eagerly. She moved aside several smaller boxes until one large brown box was all that remained.
She tore it open and held the candle high.
“It’s a box of rings,” she said gleefully. “Look at all of them.”
They were indeed elemental rings. All of them were dull, and none was as fancy as the ring I wore.
“So,” she said, “someone at Public collected all the elemental rings and kept them. But to what end?”
“The scary version is that they kept them after the elementals died, in case there were ever more elementals,” I whispered. “The other option. . . .”
Sip and I exchanged grim glances, but we didn’t have a chance to discuss it further. Below, I heard the scrape of a door. Then, over the edge of the loft, I saw a light.
We weren’t alone.
Sip and I held very still. Barely moving, Sip extinguished the candle she held. What had happened to Lough and the warning he was supposed to give was anyone’s guess. In the darkness, we tried to stay very still and very silent.
“I tell you, it has to be here somewhere,” said a voice I recognized as Oliva’s.
“And I tell you, he destroyed it before he ran away,” said a voice that was definitely President Caid’s.
Sip and I exchanged glances as both of us tried not to stir. We were barely letting ourselves breathe.
“He would never have destroyed something so important,” Oliva argued.
“He might have, to keep us from having it,” said Caid. “But at least we still have the Mirror Arcane. I did let it go back into Astra, but it doesn’t have to stay there.”
“What would you do with it if you took it back?” Oliva’s voice was directly under us. “What you should consider is destroying it,” said Oliva.
I started forward, about to confront the two leaders of the paranormals, but Sip’s hand on my arm stilled me. I rocked back on my heels, trying to contain myself. It was all I could to do keep silent.
“No,” said Caid, “I’m going to do something better.”
After that I heard whispering. I saw Sip transform her ears into those of a werewolf, but no matter how hard either of us strained, we couldn’t hear what Caid said. Neither of us dared to use magic.
“Very well,” said Oliva. “I like that idea, but I still think it would make sense to destroy the Mirror if it means the darkness cannot have it.”
“Do you really believe,” Caid asked, “that they can use it to rein in the power of the demons? And if so, can’t we paranormals do the same?”
“How do you propose to do that when the majority of the objects are now in their possession?” Oliva asked cynically.
“We have lost this war,” said Caid. “The best thing we can do is hand over Charlotte Rollins in exchange for the objects, then start over.”
“Charlotte Rollins is my student,” said Oliva hotly. “As long as she is such, you will not harm a hair on her head.”
Sip gave me the thumbs up and a lopsided grin. I’d never heard Oliva defend me like that before.
“Very well,” said Caid, “but it will be our funeral.”
“Have you really given up so easily?” Oliva asked.
“I have not given up,” said Caid. “I am merely being practical.”
“You realize,” said Oliva, “that Dacer would never let you have her. No matter what danger you thought we were in or what you accused her of doing.”
With that the voices started to fade. We didn’t know what they’d been looking for up there in the archives, but we did know they hadn’t found it - yet. One thing was clear: there was very little standing between me and certain death.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It turned out that Lough had been frantically signaling us once he saw two forms, one short and the other stocky, heading into the archive. What we hadn’t realized was how strong the protective spells were on the building, which was why his warnings hadn’t gotten through.
We quickly made our way back to Astra, catching up with Lough on the way. Once we got home, I went straight up to my room and fell into an uneasy sleep.
Again, I didn’t dream, and I woke up in the morning feeling irritable and almost more tired than when I had gone to bed the night before.
The news had been going from bad to worse. Every morning I would wake up and Sip and I would read the Tabble together in the Astra kitchen. No one questioned Sip about keeping her room in Airlee but barely being there. I felt sure that no other student would want Lisabelle’s room anyway. They’d be too afraid that the darkness mage would return for her things and, if they were gone, be very angry.
Now, the morning after our foray into the Archive, I padded down to the kitchen and found Lough already reading the news. He looked startled when he saw me and made a grab for the Tabble.
“It might be better if you didn’t,” he said sadly, as I pulled the Tabble toward me across the island.
There was the usual nonsense from Mound. Sip hadn’t had an article published that day, or she would have already been awake.
Mound’s article was about how there had been no sighting of any Nocturns in weeks. The ship that had attacked us had been filled with demons, and although the magic wasn’t all their own, it hadn’t been very strong. Because of how many demons there were we had almost lost, but we were never in real danger, which explained why Charlotte Rollins was able to save us . . . it wasn’t much of an accomplishment.
This was all the usual stuff, nothing that should have made Lough so pale, so I scrolled down, skimming as I went. Then I found it, and gaped. It was an article about Malle and Keller, but mostly about Keller. He was working as a liaison between the darkness mages and the paranormal g
overnment, having meetings at the Police Academy. Both the mages and the paranormals were very impressed with his abilities and talents. He was a rising star in the diplomatic world.
“But he doesn’t want to be a diplomat,” I said sadly.
At least the picture didn’t show him smiling. He was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing a suit that fit him perfectly, probably thanks to his mother. His eyes held something I was sure was anger as he stared into the camera. “His parents must be so proud,” I drawled. I took the Tabble back to my room as Lough watched me with worry in his eyes.
This was a Tabble I wanted to keep. Once I was alone I gently reached out and touched the picture again. At least I knew where he was and what he was doing, which was more than I could have said before, but seeing his face again only made the ache worse. I had pictures, but they were all from when we were together. I had put them away in a drawer, and I only looked at them when I was very upset or tired. It made me feel closer to him, but this picture was of what he was doing now, his life without me.
I went through the motions of classes that day, but it was very hard to concentrate. That night Lough had some less upsetting news. Sip and I were in the living room plotting our next visit to the archives when he ran in and cried, “We got a letter from Lanca!” His cheeks were red and his hair was windswept. He had run all the way there from the dining hall.
“The mail comes earlier,” said Sip crossly, barely looking up from the massive book she had on her lap.
“She didn’t send it through normal channels,” said Lough.
“She’s probably worried our mail’s being read,” I said.
“She’s probably right,” said Sip, taking the letter from Lough. It had Lanca’s seal on it, the rapier, symbol of the Rapier vampires. Sip broke it and quickly scanned the letter.
“It’s not good,” she said, “but it’s not bad, either.”
My dears,
How are you? We are still camped outside Vampire Locke. They must have expected that I would return instead of staying hidden at Public like some pathetic excuse for a queen. I have tried to make contact with the power I have in the Blood Throne, but I’m completely blocked. The darkness power here is incredibly strong. I’ve never felt anything like it. Even our vampires have felt the pull. Darkness calls to darkness, doesn’t it?
Vital and I are doing well. I know Sip is probably wondering.
Please write back soon.
Oh, and most importantly, I have heard nothing of Lisabelle. There is such a concentration of darkness power, though, that I would be shocked if she were not inside Vampire Locke.
I finished reading the letter, carefully re-folded it, and put it back in the envelop.
“I don’t get it,” said Lough, frowning in confusion.
We told him that Lanca and Vital were dating and his eyes widened.
“Brave man,” he muttered.
“You want to marry Lisabelle.”
“I don’t need to be brave,” said Lough. “I just need to love her.”
Sip rolled her eyes. “Mush. I need to sleep. I must paint the Long Building tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
At least classes were starting to go better, as long as we spent all of every evening studying. Sip was happy with that arrangement, but most of the rest of Public’s students, the people who were scared for themselves and their families and didn’t like school to begin with, were not.
It had led to something of an underground movement. There was less academic work getting done and there were more parties, which Sip and I didn’t usually attend. By evening I was tired, and she either worked on her thesis or wrote for the Tabble. Besides, although my fellow students weren’t openly hostile to me, it was very clear that they considered me an outsider, if not an outright danger.
The only bright spot in our classes was that we rarely saw Faci and Daisy. They tended to stay away from us. If we were in the same class they would sit in the back, their heads bent together, plotting who knows what. Unfortunately, Camilla was a different matter. She confronted us every chance she got. She was furious that I had seen Cale and that I had saved his life. She somehow managed to take it as a personal insult.
“Don’t listen to her bluster,” Lough advised me one night after she’d been particularly nasty in a Zervos class, and true to form, the vampire professor had done nothing about it. She had accused me of cheating on our first quiz of the year. I hadn’t, of course, but just the accusation made other students, who were already looking at me warily after Caid’s calling me out for being friends with Lisabelle, look at me with anger in their eyes.
“She’s going to get me in real trouble,” I said in frustration. “Oliva already doesn’t like me.”
The next day we were in advanced spells when Professor Erikson again ordered us to pair off.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “we will be naming our Tactical teams. Today I want you to pair off again, no friends please, and lift your partner into the air. You’ve been practicing. I expect you all to perform this spell admirably.”
I made a face. I hated it when she didn’t let me pair with Sip, but once again I found myself staring at Darrow. He smiled shyly at me.
“Hi, Darrow,” I said.
“Hi, Charlotte,” he said. Sip gave us both a questioning look.
I had no idea, so I just shrugged. We had a good class. Every student lifted another, although Sip, who was paired with Camilla, did her lift a little more violently than was technically necessary.
Sip threw her bag down in frustration. It had been two weeks since we had been in the archives. Sip had gone several times, but she had never been alone. Other industrious seniors had always been present.
Not able to make any progress on that front, we had turned our attention to the question of where Lisabelle was and when Dacer would send us on our first assignment.
“There has to be more,” she said heatedly. “Why aren’t you dreaming?”
We were in our new hangout, the smallest living room in Astra. I liked it because it had three couches, one for each of us. Sip liked it because it had a fireplace, and Lough liked it because it had a big window. Well, really because it was the closest lounge to the kitchen. I honestly think it was because he was hoping that one day Lisabelle would come walking up and he would see her coming along as if she’d never been gone. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t think it would happen.
“You think I know?” I demanded. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a book about advanced spells propped open on my lap. “You don’t think I’d like to be dreaming of Keller?”
“Sorry,” Sip muttered. She hopped onto one of the other couches. “Lough got held up. He and Trafton had something Professor Erikson wanted them to do.”
I shook my head. “What will they do next year when all the dream givers graduate?”
“Well, Trafton is threatening to travel the world and find more, which doesn’t even count the fact that he has several siblings. I think Lough would make a good professor, but he’d never do it without Lisabelle.”
Lough came in just then, muttering something about being in need of a muffin, and at the same moment the Astra doorbell rang.
We all exchanged looks.
No one ever rang our doorbell. The professors summoned us to them, and friends just walked in, because they knew I didn’t have a dorm mother anymore.
I scrambled off the couch as Sip went to start a new pot of tea. Whoever it was, the visitor deserved tea.
Lough stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.
I flung the door open, and there stood Darrow. He held his hat in his hand, turning it over and over in his fingertips. His eyes, already wide set, looked even larger in the moonlight. He was also staring at me.
“Hi,” I said, not quite hiding my surprise.
“Hi,” he said. We stood there awkwardly for a few breaths, until I heard the door to the kitchen open and Sip appeared at my
elbow, peering at Darrow.
“Oh, hey,” she said. I could tell she was just as surprised as I was to see him.
“Hey,” he said, smiling in relief. Somehow he was more comfortable with Sip than with me.
“Come in,” said Sip. “Are you here to commiserate about Professor Erikson?”
Darrow looked confused. “No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t think so. I like Professor Erikson.”
Sip looked slightly disappointed, but she recovered quickly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You can come in anyway.”
“Um, thanks,” said Darrow. We let him in and he whistled in wonder.
“This is amazing,” he said, looking around. “You have this whole place to yourself?”
“Sip stays with me now,” I said. “I don’t have a dorm mother.”
“I’m sorry,” said Darrow. He followed us into the living room, and Sip disappeared to get the tea.
Lough cracked one eye open and stared at Darrow.
“Hi,” said our visitor, looking uncertain again. He glanced at me, then continued talking about how cool Astra was.
Lough’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as Darrow continued to talk. Sip returned with the tea and offered Darrow some.
He shook his head. “I don’t drink tea.”
Sip stared at him. “Who doesn’t drink tea?”
“I just find the taste odd,” he said. Sip looked deeply concerned.
“I have just the thing. I’ll be right back,” she disappeared.
“So, Darrow,” said Lough, sitting up straight. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” said Darrow.
“You’re very into paranormal architecture, aren’t you?”
Darrow nodded. “I’m hoping to get more schooling and then make a living from it.”
“That sounds fun,” said Lough. “Are you concerned that the demons might make it so that there aren’t enough paranormals left to employ you?”
Sip returned, carrying a fancier teabag than I had ever seen before. She plunked it in one of the teacups and waited, staring intently at it. Darrow gave her a questioning look and then returned his focus to Lough.
Elemental Darkness (Paranormal Public Series) Page 16
