Queen of the Magnetland (The Elemental Phases Book 5)

by Cassandra Gannon

“No, I’m not the only one suffering, am I? The Air House had endless victims and you’re protecting those assholes from us! You’ve blocked off the Air Kingdom so we can’t get at them and…”

  Job cut him off. “I stopped the battling, yes. Haven’t there been enough deaths?”

  “No!” Chason bellowed the word. “There haven’t been enough fucking deaths, because Parald is still breathing!”

  Lansing, of the Dust House let out a war-whoop of agreement.

  “As long as the Air House survives, I will fight them.” Chason shouted over the building cheers. “And if that means fighting you, too, Job, then so be it.”

  “I’m not going to fight anyone.” Job sounded tired. “I’ve buried too many Phases, already. If you think this is how Mara would want you to honor her memory, though, you’re very wrong.”

  Job was right.

  Mara would never want Chason to risk himself for her. Especially not over a waste of hair like Parald. But, on the other hand, if Freya was right then his hatred of Parald might be the only think keeping Chason alive. Without vengeance to give him a purpose, this burned out shell of her Match might have just… given up.

  Mara refused to even consider a world without Chason.

  Anything he needed to do to hang on until she returned was suddenly alright with her.

  “Don’t say her name!” The past Chason screamed. “Not ever, again! You don’t know what it’s like to lose your goddamn soul, Job. Parald stole my heart and my light… And I swear on my Match’s grave, I will kill that son-of-a-bitch or I will die trying. There will be a reprisal.” He stalked off, countless people chanting his name in support.

  Kahn shook his head, again, and turned to vanish into the crowd.

  Her cousin might have been unimpressed, but Mara saw other people latch onto Chason’s words like they were life-preservers. Whether he intended to or not, Chason had just provided a lot of desperate people with a lifeline.

  She watched as more scenes flickered by, each of them worse than the last.

  Other lost and grieving Phases joining Chason’s crusade and forming the Reprisal.

  Chason’s new army wreaking vengeance on the Air Phases.

  Reprisal soldiers kidnapping Nia and Chason setting her free.

  Chason using Ty to draw Parald into one final trap.

  Chason planning to kill himself at Mara’s grave.

  Mara’s palm covered her mouth in shock as she watched her Match deteriorating one memory at a time. Didn’t anyone see how hurt he was? How much he needed help? Wasn’t there anyone who would try and save him?

  The scene shifted, again. Now Chason was sitting behind his desk, hyper-focused on what looked like old theater stubs. He shifted them around on the blotter like they were puzzle pieces and, if he arranged them just so, they’d reveal some hidden picture.

  Behind him, a man who could only be Raiden, of the Radiation House stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest and a long suffering expression on his face. “Chason, they’re just movie tickets.” His voice must have been damaged by the vicious scar on his throat. It was a dark and rasping sound. “They aren’t going to tell you where your Match’s body is.”

  “No, these are a sign.” Chason whispered. “I found them in the library. She used as them as bookmarks and left them for me to find.” He held one aloft like it was a map to sunken pirate treasure. “This means something.”

  Mara could have cried. “It means I went to see The Little Mermaid back in 1989, Chason. That’s all.” She tried to run a hand over his disheveled hair, even though he couldn’t feel her. “Darling, what are you doing to yourself?”

  Gaia, he was so far gone, it was a miracle he’d even lasted until she returned. Back in reality, present day Chason had a chaotic swirl to his energy, but it was nothing like this instability. He’d clearly improved dramatically in just a short amount of time.

  Because she was back and helping to anchoring him?

  Or had she been anchoring him this entire time?

  Freya said something was keeping Chason from giving up. What if it hadn’t been his vengeance? What if he’d still felt her spirit trapped in that tomb and was somehow… waiting for her? When her body was taken, it would have sent him into a free fall.

  “Did your Match ever go to the human realm?” Raiden asked. “I thought you told me…?”

  “Shhhh!” Chason held the ticket up to his eye as if he needed to microscopically examine each dot of faded ink. “Be very quiet. I need to concentrate.”

  In front of them, Lansing, of the Dust House paced back and forth, looking frustrated. Mara instantly didn’t like him. Then he started talking and, for the first time in her life, Mara realized she was fully capable of downright hating someone.

  “We should be finishing off the Air Phases now that the barriers are down, Raiden. We don’t have time for… this.” Lansing waved a disgusted hand at Chason.

  Once he’d blindly followed Mara’s Match, cheering his words, but now Lansing wanted him dead. She quickly saw that the Dust Phase desired the power of the Reprisal for himself and Chason was standing in his path. Or, more precisely, Raiden was.

  The Radiation Phase impassively watched Lansing pace and said nothing.

  “He isn’t the same commander he was before.” Lansing pressed as if Chason wasn’t even in the room. Not that it mattered. Chason wasn’t paying any attention to him.

  “Chason is ten times the man you are, you little toad.” Mara snapped anyway.

  “He isn’t capable of leading us to victory.” Lansing made an impassioned gesture with his fist. “You see it, too, Raiden. I know you do. Since Parald died, the Chason we knew is gone.”

  “I’ve seen that he needs his Match back.” Raiden regarded Lansing with a glowing chartreuse gaze. “I’ve also seen that Chason’s life is vital to the universe. If Chason dies, we all die.”

  Mara’s eyes widened. What did that mean?

  “I don’t believe you.” Lansing spat. “You’re saying that because you know he’s weak. A broken leader can’t stay in power.”

  “Chason will stay exactly where he is, no matter who else has to die.” Raiden delivered the threat with flat certainty. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Mara absolutely believed him. “Thank you.” She told Raiden from the bottom of her heart. “Thank you for protecting him for me.”

  Lansing glared up at Raiden in impotent fury, knowing that his plan to usurp Chason was stymied for the time being. He apparently gained control of the Reprisal at some point, but he didn’t harm her Match to do it.

  …Because, he couldn’t get through Chason’s gigantic bodyguard.

  Raiden arched a brow at Lansing. “Were you leaving?”

  Lansing’s mouth thinned. Apparently unwilling to stand against one of the most dangerous assassins in the realm, he turned and went marching out of the room. The Radiation Phase stared after Lansing for a beat and Mara saw that Raiden wanted to kill him.

  Why wasn’t he?

  “Lansing’s right, you know.” Chason said abruptly, not looking up from his ticket stubs. “I am losing my mind.”

  Raiden looked back at him. “I know.”

  “You should go, too. I’ll die soon and I don’t want to take you with me.”

  “You’re not going to die.” Mara wouldn’t allow it and she had a feeling Raiden wouldn’t, either.

  She studied the Radiation Phases as he studied her Match, trying to read his expression. Raiden didn’t look at Chason with pity or annoyance. It was more like exasperated compassion.

  “When the time comes, only one of us will die.” Raiden crossed back over to the desk. “Forget about Lansing. What he does next can’t be changed and we have an appointment in the Agora. We’re supposed be meeting with Raj, of the Color House.”

  Chason gave a twitchy sort of frown. “Who?” His eyes were getting foggy again.

  “The man painting that portrait of your Match? For the Fall memorial that the Council com
missioned? Remember?”

  Apparently, he didn’t. “That what…? No, no, no, no, no, no.” Chason started to run a hand through his hair and ended up just scratching at his scalp in a kind of mindless frenzy. “No. No, I can’t do that today.”

  “You don’t have to do anything except choose the painting that you want to represent her. You and Khan are supposed to meet with Raj today and decide.” Raiden paused meaningfully. “It’s for the memorial in the Agora, Chason. It will be there forever.”

  Chason cringed. His eyes darted from side to side, like he was trying to think of a way out of it and coming up empty. “Alright.” He finally whispered. “But, I don’t want to look at the pictures.”

  “You might have to, if you’re going to choose one.”

  “I can’t look at my Match!” Chason screamed. “I won’t. Not until I save her from the grave robbers.”

  But who would save Chason?

  The memory fast-forwarded a bit and Mara found herself standing in front of a long wall in the Agora. Kahn and Chason stood side by side, both of them looking like hell, while Raj, of the Color House explained the placement of Mara’s memorial portrait.

  “It’ll be here by the flowerbed on the left of the…”

  “It should be in the center of the wall.” Chason interrupted.

  Raj faltered. “Well, the Council decided that the dates would go in the middle of the…”

  “Mara should be in the center.” Kahn snapped, agreeing with Chason for possibly the first time ever.

  “Let’s choose the portrait first and then debate placement.” Raiden suggested calmly from behind them. “Raj, you said you brought several choices?”

  Mara was really beginning to like the Radiation Phase.

  “Yes, uh…” Raj moved to pick up his sketch book. “I made a few studies from photographs.” Chason looked away, so Raj held it up for Kahn’s opinion. “There’s this one.”

  He held up a lovely drawing of Mara, if she did say so herself. After watching so many memories where she was crying, being buried, hurting her Match’s feelings or watching men plot to kill him, this was a welcomed change. “Oh, I like that! I’m in that purple dress I wore to the…”

  “No.” Kahn intoned.

  She scowled over at him.

  Raj quickly turned the page, not willing to argue the artistic merits of his work with an armed Light Phase warrior. “This one?”

  “That one’s nice, too.” Mara nodded. “I like my hair up like that.”

  “Did you ever fucking see Mara?” Kahn demanded. “She looked nothing like that.”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “I look exactly like that, Kahny.”

  Raj began to look hunted. “Well, I have this final one.” He held it up. “I can make some changes, if you like, but I think it’s probably the closest to the photographs.”

  Mara blinked. “Oh, yes.” She breathed. It looked like a more beautiful version of her, smiling and dressed for Phazing Day. That had been her happiest moment. Of course, it was how she wanted to be remembered. Especially, since Raj had thoughtfully made her lips more symmetrical and her nose smaller. “Kahn, that’s definitely it.”

  Khan studied the portrait for a long moment. “Alright.” He finally muttered. “That one’s a little better.”

  Chason had made it very clear he didn’t want to see any pictures of her, but he still couldn’t resist a quick sideways peek at the sketchpad. After that, he couldn’t seem to look away. “Oh for God’s sake!” He snapped, sounding insulted. “That is not my Match.”

  Raj looked crushed.

  “It looks a lot like the pictures I saw of her…” Raiden began neutrally.

  “No, it doesn’t.” Chason insisted. “My Match was perfect. Every single thing about her was perfect.” He pointed at the drawing. “That is not perfect.”

  Mara made an aggravated sound. “I’m not perfect, Chason!”

  Why did he keep saying things like that? Whatever Mara he’d created in his head, she was obviously prettier, smarter and more worthy than the real Mara had ever been. To hear him talk, the woman had never done anything wrong.

  It was annoying.

  Like he had replaced her in his memory with some fake, flawless version of herself. No wonder he kept denying her identity. Why would he want the real Mara, when he had someone perfect?

  Kahn glared at Chason. “I knew my cousin all her life. That looks like Mara.” He pointed at the drawing. “That’s the one we’re going with.”

  “No.” Chason shook his head emphatically. “It’s not good enough.”

  Raj swallowed. “Well, I can try, again…”

  Chason cut him off. “It won’t matter. Nothing could be worthy of her.”

  “Such a shame you weren’t this passionate about Mari’s memory before.” Kahn muttered. “Like –say-- two weeks ago when someone stole her body right out from under you.”

  Chason’s head snapped around, his eyes swirling with madness. “For all I know, you took her.” He snarled.

  Mara winced, knowing what was about to happen.

  Sure enough, Kahn’s temper went off like a rocket. “You’re the one who stole her! If you’d let her return to the Light Kingdom to be buried, no one would’ve had a chance to steal her body! But you refused to let her come home and now she’s gone.”

  “Kahn, no.” Mara held up her hands, trying to mediate even though they had no idea she was there. “Chason didn’t steal me. His kingdom is my home.”

  Had she ever realized that before?

  “I won’t be separated from my Match even in death!” Chason shouted back.

  “Stop.” Raiden stepped between them, before there was bloodshed. “Would she want you two doing this? Especially, here?”

  “Fucking hell.” Kahn hissed, again. He backed down but not before shooting one more glare at Chason. “You could never just do what she wanted, could you?”

  Chason’s expression changed. The rage faded into unbearable grief. “I tried.” He said quietly. “I just didn’t know how.”

  Mara’s heart broke. “All I ever wanted you to do was love me.”

  And there was still time.

  Her mind went back to her ever present notebook and the list of regrets she’d been painstakingly writing before she died. All the things that she’d been so desperate to have another shot at. Everything that had remained undone and unsaid in her first life. The very last thing she’d written was the most important:

  Convince Chason to fall in love.

  Mara looked at this disreputable, slightly crazy, more passionate man that Chason had become. The world might have changed, but her goals hadn’t.

  For whatever reason, she’d been reborn. Given another chance to correct her mistakes. Whatever else happened, she couldn’t go back to the Mara she’d been before. Couldn’t be the flawless vision of herself that Chason seemed to remember. Couldn’t be perfect.

  But, she could be better.

  Chapter Seven

  [She was] cast in so slight and exquisite a mould; so mild and gentle; so pure and beautiful;

  that the earth seemed not her element, nor its rough creatures her rough companions.

  Charles Dickens- “Oliver Twist”

  Comfort, of the Color House didn’t take offense at his tone. Color Phases were notoriously easy to get along with. She’d always been affable, despite Raiden’s deadly reputation and the duel broadswords crisscrossing his back. Then again, she knew better than anyone that he wasn’t there to harm anybody. Raiden would die before he allowed anything to happen to this colorful, impractical little cottage.

  In fact, he was going to.

  “Hi, Raiden.” She stepped back from the door, gesturing for him to come inside. He hadn’t been passed the threshold in two years, but she acted as if she’d been expecting him. “She’s in the garden.”

  Raiden ducked through the doorway, unaccountably nervous. “Is she… well?”

  “Of course. I would’ve called you if she w
asn’t.” Comfort smiled as if the question was endearing somehow. “Or I would have told you when you called yesterday. Or this morning.”

  He did call to check on things a lot. How could he not? It would’ve been wrong to hover –Wrong to infringe on her childhood-- but he needed to make sure she was okay. Even though he knew she was safe, it was like a compulsion.

  Especially now with the future so uncertain.

  “Good.” He had to tilt his head so he wouldn’t crack it against the ceiling as he moved through the living area. Color Phases tended to be small and he was one of the largest Phases in any House.

  Raiden glanced around. Toys were piled all over the delicate looking furniture. Dolls without heads, and Hot Wheels, and an entire zoo of rubber snakes and tarantulas. Everything was haphazardly scattered like it had been abandoned in mid-play. He could smell cookies baking, see crayon pictures tacked to the wall… and he knew that he’d chosen an ideal guardian.

  After losing her own children and grandchildren in the Fall, Comfort was doubly protective of her new charge and at least three times as doting. That was what Raiden had wanted. Someone who would love openly and unconditionally.

  And who knew the kind of hell he would rain down if the girl experienced even one second of unhappiness.

  “Are you well?” Comfort asked. “It’s not like you to just show up.”

  No, it wasn’t.

  Raiden checked watch, his jaw tightening as the countdown numbers continued to dwindle. He should have been continuing his search for Zakkery. He’d spent all night scouring the Smoke Kingdom and come up with nothing, so it was imperative that he find that bastard soon. Taking time to come here was irresponsible.

  But this would be his only chance to see her.

  He needed to see her.

  “I’m fine.” He lied. “Where is she?”

  It was a rhetorical question. He could feel her presence like an electrical charge in the air and it drew him. He didn’t even wait for a response, just instinctively headed towards the back of the cottage.

  “It’s the door on the left, Raiden.” Comfort still sounded amused.

  He didn’t need the directions. Raiden knew this house as well as she did. He never would have left the child anywhere where he wasn’t assured she was protected. Leaving her anywhere at all frustrated him, even when he knew there was no other option.