Dark Waters (Elemental Book 1)

by Rain Oxford

  Dark Waters

  Elemental Book 1

  Rain Oxford

  Dark Waters © 2015 Rain Oxford

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited by Crystal Potts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Why do you want to be a wizard?”

  The question came as no surprise to me. After extensive research on the prestigious, secretive university, I knew this was one of the questions they used in considering admittance as well as graduation. In my own personal opinion, it was ridiculous.

  “I want to help people,” I answered, as I had practiced.

  The headmaster and deputy principal glanced at each other with obvious suspicion. I wasn’t worried even as Headmaster Logan Hunt folded his hands across the dark blue folder on the table and leaned forward.

  Twelve of the teachers along with the headmaster sat in high-back chairs at the long table. Rumor had it they were all graduates aside from the headmaster, which I found difficult to believe since one of the four women looked about sixteen. On the other hand, that was assuming she was even human. Each of the staff members wore black robes over their dress clothes, which probably had more to do with the frigid temperature of the room and less to do with stereotypes.

  The council room was lit with five torches positioned around us, forming the five corners of a pentagram. A massive fireplace dominated the north wall behind them while the east wall sported a floor to ceiling bookshelf. Between me and the school board members was a small metal folding table and an intentionally uncomfortable metal chair. Upon the table were various objects used to test my mental skills and natural talent in magic.

  One object was a candle, which they sat before me and demanded I light. When I took out my lighter and lit it, they were less than impressed. The second object was a rock, which they told me to move without touching. I tipped the table until it rolled off, but that also failed to amaze them. When they told me to draw water out of the air, I picked up the mirror, which they hadn’t asked me to utilize yet, and breathed on it until the reflective surface fogged up.

  The young-looking woman smirked while the man on her left glared. He had shoulder-length dark brown hair with a five o'clock shadow. There was a glint in his amber-yellow eyes that put me on edge. I was familiar with the sensation; every shifter made my skin crawl. It wasn’t the fact that he could shift into a powerful predator, nor the ability to growl like the wolf inside him that irritated me. Something about an animal and a person combined into one being seemed unnatural to me. I imagined the person side of the shifter had to be a little savage, while the animal part had to be especially intelligent. I knew predator shifters were much more common, which explains why I never met a bunny shifter.

  The final elemental test they gave me was to create a windstorm. I took a moment to contemplate my task. There were no windows or fans so, after a few minutes, I sighed. “I have no idea how.”

  “Did it occur to you at all to use magic?” one of the women asked. She was in her mid-twenties with a slim yet shapely, athletic figure. Her long, chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, but it was her eyes that were most striking. Her irises were the lightest green in the center, with dark green rings on the outside. She had a naturally tanned, smooth complexion, which I found unusual because her slight accent was European. She was by far the most attractive woman I had seen since I was abruptly and unceremoniously dumped into the paranormal world.

  “No. I’m here to learn magic, not because I can already do it.” My response was perfectly plausible, completely undeniable, and flawlessly practiced.

  It was no doubt my quick wit that Hunt was considering as he met my eyes. Most people didn’t do that. I knew I had a killer poker face and a perfectly innocent smile that was more natural talent than rehearsed effort.

  The green-eyed woman was clearly not impressed. Since she sat immediately to the left of Hunt, I could only assume she was Remington Hunt, daughter of the headmaster. It may have also been her reputation that led me to my deduction, for I had been told of the woman’s beauty. I had also been told she was a spitfire with a hair trigger, both on her gun and temper.

  Logan Hunt had to have been at least fifty, but he looked to be in his early forties. He had dark brown, almost black hair, with silver eyes. He was no larger than me, but there was a menacing aura around him as if he had seen a lot and could handle a lot more. I would be careful not to push this man.

  “Class begins at eight in the morning, Mr. Sanders,” Hunt said, still studying me closely.

  Hunt and I both knew he was letting me in no matter what I said. Remington, obviously not aware of the situation, gaped at her father. Fortunately, she wasn’t going to question him in front of witnesses.

  “I will explain the rules to you this once and you will receive a handbook in the morning,” Hunt began. “If you have questions, keep them to yourself. Our policy is not like that of public universities, Mr. Sanders. We do not hold you back. You need fifteen credits to graduate from your first circle and eighteen for the remaining four circles. If you fail to meet your credits to graduate, you will not be returning.”

  I hadn’t planned on returning.

  “You will have an element and a circle. Every wizard begins with the element we believe will be easiest for them and go from there. Your circle is your ranking, or the year you are in. For example, if you are placed in the fire element, you will be a C-One Fire. If you meet a C-Three Fire, that means they have already mastered two elements and are working on fire. We would suggest befriending them.”

  Not likely.

  “While you advance through your classes this semester, you will also have a trainer in the element you are assigned. You will meet your elemental master first thing in the morning. If you have not mastered your element by the end of sixteen weeks, you will repeat the semester. You have three chances to master an element, and then you are expelled.”

  There was little heart behind his words, for he knew this was just for show. The others in the room had to believe that I was here as a regular student. “You just said you don’t hold anyone back.”

  “If you lack enough credits, you get no chance to make it up. However, if you do make enough credits, but you do not pass your elemental training, you can return. You will take different classes and still have to pass enough credits, so you are still moving forward with your education, you just cannot graduate until you have passed all five elements.”

  So it could take fifteen semesters to graduate if someone wasn’t good at the elements.

  “Our teachers are highly trained in the art of education. How they educate is up to them. Each teacher has the right to flunk you from his or her class for any reason. They also have the right to discipline you as they see fit. For example, if you are late, they can assign a punishment. If you refuse, they could decide to flunk you from their class. Some of the teachers may require you to do questionable exercises. If their practices offend your moral boundaries, do not complain to us.”

  “We strongly suggest you do whatever your professor asks of you no matter how unreasonable,” the deputy principal said. She was a smartly dressed, middle aged woman with strawberry-blond hair tied back in a braid. Out of everyone at the table, she looked like the most approachable.

  “Except for Professor Langril,” the youngest woman said quickly. “He’s utterly insan
e. We try not to put C-One students in his class because they keep disappearing.” She had short, orange hair with yellow streaks and ice-blue eyes. Whatever she actually was, I would have a hard time taking her seriously because I expected her to start talking about her nails or something. She honestly didn’t even look seventeen.

  Hunt nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, April. As I’m sure you are aware, communication to the outside world is restricted for the safety of our students. Furthermore, magic often interferes with electricity. Therefore, all use of electronic devices on school property is strictly prohibited.”

  That would make things more difficult. I couldn’t resist a check of my watch. It was analogue, and when I held it up to my ear, I could hear it ticking.

  “Watches are allowed, but they do not last long here,” Hunt said. “Exiting the school grounds without a professor’s supervision or written permission from myself or Mrs. Ashcraft is calls for immediate expulsion.”

  “If you get caught,” the orange-haired woman added.

  “Yes, thank you, April. Fighting other than on the practice field is discouraged, but unless you anger a professor or damage school property, how you deal with your classmates is your business. If you do damage school property, be prepared to fix it.”

  “Unless you die,” April said helpfully.

  “Yes, thank you, April.”

  “How many non-humans are in this school? I thought wizards were pretty picky about who they kept around.”

  Hunt folded his hands back over the folder. It struck me as a bad sign. “Mr. Sanders, we hold every person accountable for his or her own actions. We do not hold their race or gender against them. Wizards make up the majority of our school, but fae and shifters are also welcome here.”

  “Not vampires, though.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Hunt narrowed his eyes slightly. “For the safety of our students, we cannot allow a vampire into our school.”

  “Good,” I said. “I have nothing against fae or shifters, but vampires are a pain in the neck.”

  April laughed, but Hunt was not amused. “As one who tries to encourage equality in the paranormal world, I find that sort of humor very tasteless,” he said. April laughed harder. “Professor Nightshade will show you to your dorm room.” April stopped laughing.

  The woman stood with a solemn expression and walked slowly around the table to approach me. “Come with me.”

  She seemed to have a sweet demeanor even though she must have been a powerful witch to be on the school board. Or a powerful something… I followed her out of the boardroom into the dimly lit hallway.

  The walls were all stone and the floor was waxed hardwood that creaked underfoot. “I bet this gets loud during the day,” I said.

  “This school was originally designed by a psychopath. I don’t remember his name, only that he was German. Some say he built this as a home to drive his family insane, after which he slaughtered them all and then himself. Others say his wife murdered his children and then he killed his wife. He was so afraid of her seeking vengeance in death, that he built this place to confuse her spirit. You will find stairways that lead to walls and doors that open to nothing. There is a room on the third floor that was built tilted with a window in the floor that overlooks one of the classrooms.”

  “That’s weird.” It wasn’t my first or second thought, but it was the least rude.

  “Fortunately, you will not have to visit this section of the campus often. There are maps in case you get lost. Of course, the maps are often wrong.”

  “Because of renovations to the school?”

  “Because the rooms change,” she corrected.

  The dorms were in a smaller, separate building to the west of the school with short observation towers on each of the four corners. “Where do the teachers stay?”

  “In the dorms. The entire top floor is ours. Also, I’m going to warn you now to address us exactly as we tell you to. Professor Rosin Flagstone is the only wolf shifter on staff, so he keeps the wolf shifters in line. If you have trouble with a wolf you cannot handle, take it to him. Anyway, he is referred to as ‘Alpha Flagstone’ by everyone.”

  “What do you teach?” I asked.

  “I teach the history of magic classes. Your schedule will be provided to you by your elemental master in the morning.”

  “We don’t get to pick our classes?”

  “Your first semester classes are chosen for you. Each year after that, you will have increasing influence.”

  We had reached the dorms and April clearly had nothing else to say. She led me through the dark hallways, which had simple gray carpet and white drywall. The doors were close together, like in a hotel, which didn’t bode well for the size of the rooms. At least it was clean.

  My room was at the end of the hall on the fourth floor. April didn’t bother to knock and instead turned the knob and opened the door. Inside, the room was about twelve-by-twelve with three twin-sized beds suspended like bunk-beds, but under the beds were writing desks, each with a small bookshelf on the left of the desk and a dresser on the right. Two of the beds were against the north wall and the last was on the west beside a big window that overlooked the lake. The only other door, which I assumed opened into a closet, was on the south wall. The floor was dark blue carpet while the walls were white drywall. Since there was no electricity, light came from three gas light sconces, one over each of the desks.

  Two of the beds were dressed with blankets and pillows and had the desks under them set up with books, papers, and personal affects. My two black travel cases were lying on the desk under the empty bed on the west wall.

  Just another part of the job…

  “What?” April asked.

  Shit. This was going to be hard enough without mind readers. “I didn’t say anything.” Effectively brushing her off, I went to my bags and started unpacking them. She shut the door, leaving me alone, so I climbed the steps to the bed and gingerly lay down. I was too old for a bunk-bed.

  As I tried to convince myself the bed was somewhat comfortable, I considered where I was a week before.

  * * *

  I was a regular private investigator. I did my job discreetly and although my number was hard to come by, I had plenty of business. Most of my work consisted of things like uncovering embezzlement in large corporations or spying on husbands of wealthy, spoiled wives. It wasn’t a fun job and I rarely had good news for my clients, but it was a career and I didn’t go home stressed over it.

  My bills were paid and there was food in the fridge, so I was doing well. In fact, I could afford to be very selective in the cases I accepted. I had already known about the paranormal community, but I kept my mouth shut and stuck to human cases, particularly those that were mundane to a fault. They were predictable and I never had to worry if my client was going to turn me into a frog or eat me.

  It was only by my exceptional skills in overhearing information that I was able to learn anything about Logan Hunt’s university. I always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, thanks to my natural instincts and inquisitive nature. Even on strictly ordinary cases, I would find myself wandering behind an abandoned warehouse and stopping when I heard hushed voices.

  Most people— most humans— knew nothing about the paranormal beings they shared this world with. I knew there were four factions of paranormals; wizards, vampires, fae, and shifters. I also knew they placed secrecy highest in priority, which meant any human that knew about them was a threat or a pawn. I didn’t like either of those options, so I kept my knowledge to myself.

  So how did I, a human, end up attending a paranormal university?

  It began as a restless sensation. I always trusted my instincts and they were telling me to get my ass out of town. Since I was in the middle of a case, I pushed the warning aside. Apparently, stopping an elementary-level hacker was worth more than my life.

  I started to wake in the middle of the night full of adrenaline, as if I had been running o
r was in danger. I felt eyes watching me when I was alone. After three days of this, I had had enough. I went to my office, put up my closed sign, locked the door, and started to turn off my computer. The plane ticket in my pocket to Hawaii was one-way.

  The door opened and the bell tolled over it. I looked up from my computer screen, startled, because I knew I had locked it. The man who entered was tall, dark, and thin in an ominous way. He strolled into my office without looking around, dropped a thousand dollars in twenties on my desk, and said, “You are going to help me find my daughter.”

  Had it been for anything else but a missing child, I would have told him I was unavailable. I never asked how a person found my name because I knew my clients were low-key about it. The way I saw it, if someone found me, they needed the best and were willing to pay high fees for it. I stayed out of most shady deals, but my clients were often embarrassed about what they needed me to investigate.

  “How old is she?” I grabbed my notebook, ready for him to tell me about his seventeen-year-old who ran off with her boyfriend. I was contracted for runaways more often than I cared to count, but if the kid was legal, there was nothing I could do for the parents. Some parents didn’t take that well, and this man struck me as the overbearing, stubborn, unreasonable type.

  “She is six.”

  I looked up from my notepad. Overbearing, yes, but he didn’t strike me as a mobster. He wore black pants and a black, high-collared shirt tucked into his pants. No place for a gun, no gang signs, no visible tattoos. His short black hair was clean, not greasy or matted. His deep set, dark brown eyes were cold, but I could attribute that to his situation. He had high cheek bones, light skin, frown lines on his forehead, and a crescent scar from the right edge of his mouth to the sharp edge of his chin.

  My instincts warned me to watch myself. “You should go to the police with this. If she was kidnapped or lost, the police have a better chance of getting her back. They have more people and resources.”