Magic of the Wood House

by Cassandra Gannon

  “We don’t have time.” Sullivan met her eyes dead on. “Trust me.”

  Teja hesitated. “I should trust you, when you don’t trust me?” She challenged.

  “Yes. I know what that thing can do. Trust me. We have to go. Now.”

  Chapter Ten

  Nor need we trouble ourselves to examine by what Prometheus the Element of Fire

  came to be fetched down from above the Regions of the Air.

  Robert Hooke- “Micrographia”

  Two Years Before: Day Six of the Fall

  Rysimer, of the Light House decided to blow up the world on a Wednesday.

  He didn’t want to blow up the world because it was a Wednesday.

  Rye had nothing against Wednesdays themselves. They were as serviceable a day of the week as any Thursday or Monday. After three hundred and four years, the individual calendar pages of Rye’s life had long since begun blurred at the edges. In fact, he didn’t even know that it was a Wednesday when the plan first entered his mind.

  No, Wednesday just happened to be the day that the surviving Light Phases jumped into the human realm and began looking for the bomb.

  Humans didn’t have a lot of uses, but they excelled at stockpiling weapons. When you wanted enough firepower to destroy your enemies in a hurry, you went to the experts on mass murder.

  Humans invented some other nifty gadgets over the years. Rysimer wouldn’t deny that. For instance, Rye liked cars. He would have acquired one for himself if the Light Kingdom possessed a single road suitable for driving. He’d always wanted a Lamborghini or some other bullet-shaped fantasy that looked like it was constructed entirely out of speed and shine. Even Kahn admitted that mankind kicked ass when it came to designing luxury automobiles.

  Still, pound for pound, humanity’s greatest accomplishment just had to be the SB-12-24 bomb. The Star of Bethlehem. The only explosive in the universe so specialized, that it could penetrate the Elemental realm and actually cause damage. Never had concentrated explosives come together to form such a perfect vision of the future.

  That stood as the humans’ real legacy. They manufactured their own ruin and then named it for their gods. How the hell could you not appreciate the balls of a species like that?

  Rysimer stalked through the human tenement, ignoring the sideways looks he and the others received. It might have been their Western-style clothing that drew so much attention. All five Light Phases wore camouflaged cargo pants and commando green shirts, which didn’t exactly blend seamlessly with the native dress. Or it might have been their hair. Not many men in this part of the world had long blond hair braided into intricate knots. Or maybe everyone just correctly picked up on the group’s “don’t fuck with us” vibe.

  More than likely, though, it was the smell.

  Rysimer smelled like death. All five of the Light Phases did. It was impossible not to smell like death when you spent six straight days filling mass graves with every person you’d ever known. Rysimer probably should have ordered them all to change clothes before they came to the human realm.

  But, Rye was past giving a shit about hygiene.

  The Light House presently consisted of just Rye, Kahn, Julius, Mannus and Daven. The five of them held every speck of Light in the universe. They were completely responsible for balancing everything from sunsets, to streetlamps, to the glow of computer screens. Without Light, nothing else could exist. The Wood Houses’ plants wouldn’t grow. The Shadow House would break under the strain of maintaining endless night. The Heat House wouldn’t have the sunlight to warm, so the Weather House couldn’t maintain the temperature of the world.

  When you stood on the brink of extinction, taking a bath just didn’t seem real important.

  Harry Belafonte’s Jump in the Line blared out of a small window high above them, in one of the cramped apartments. The peppy calypso beat created a ridiculous soundtrack for their mission. Rysimer vaguely considered tracking down the radio playing the song and beating it to death.

  “Move.” Kahn shoved some innocent human aside without breaking his stride.

  The guy went careening into the side of a building. For a second, the human’s human-y face went blank with surprise and the beginnings of anger. He caught his balance against the graffiti covered wall, his eyes cutting over to Kahn as if he wanted to attack.

  Then, he noticed the broadsword strapped to Kahn’s back and reconsidered.

  Julius hesitated long enough to drag the man upright and bracingly pounded him on the shoulder. “There ya are, human. Any harm done?”

  The man staggered again under the energetic show of camaraderie. For his own safety, he didn’t seem eager to respond to Jules’ inquiry.

  “He’s fine.” Kahn answered for him. “I didn’t break the little hume. I barely touched him, in fact.”

  Mannus and Daven both turned and scowled at him, but Kahn pretended not to notice. “So, where the fuck is this place?” He snapped instead. “I thought you said that you knew where you were going, Rye?”

  “I do.” Rysimer intoned.

  Rye might have no clue who the president of the United States was or how to work a cellphone. But, he always kept track of where the humans sold their black market weapons. Especially, a weapon that might actually work against the Elementals. It was just common sense.

  Light Phases weren’t artists or teachers or scientists. They were born and raised to be warriors. It was all they knew. The hunters and trackers of the Elemental realm, Light Phases were famous for two things: Saving lives and taking lives. Rye wasn’t sure which career path he’d just started down. Not that it mattered, now.

  The Elementals were all but gone, anyway.

  Rysimer pointed at an innocuous looking storefront. The sign over the door advertised antiques and curiosities in one of the human dialects. “That’s the place.” He prowled up to the door and slammed his fist against it.

  The others took into position around him, watching the street in both directions against attack.

  “We should have brought some of their money.” Daven muttered. “We could just buy this damn bomb and be done with it.”

  “Yeah, well, the Wood House isn’t exactly taking a lot of counterfeiting requests at the moment.” His brother retorted. The Wood House could reproduce any sort of paper instantly, even human currency. “Besides, we’d have to lie to get it. The Wood House would never agree with this plan. They’re too moral. And it’d be a little awkward to come up with an explanation for why we need a couple of suitcases full of cash during a plague.” Mannus, being forty-eight years older than his brother, delighted in mocking him.

  “A pile of dead humans could get awkward, too.” Daven shot back. “And if these guys try resisting us, that’s what’s gonna happen, genius. You know that.”

  Rye spared a look up at the sky.

  Mannus and Daven couldn’t be in the same room with each other and not argue over something. The exact color of the carpet… Which of them was more bored… Whether the ugly picture on the wall was of a girl holding a big cat or a little dog... It was endless. The siblings amused themselves with a constant stream of bickering.

  And it was probably going to get worse since the two of them now represented forty percent of entire Light House population.

  The Light House needed to hang on for the good of the world. Except there were only five Light Phases left… and all of them were male. The thought went round and round in Rysimer’s head. Since Phases usually followed their mother’s House, that really didn’t bode well for a happily-ever-after. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  It made him furious.

  Rye was so fucking angry that it filmed his vision in red. All he could think about was striking back at Parald.

  The door creaked open and Rysimer found an automatic weapon leveled in his face. A human watched them suspiciously, his nose wrinkling at their combined smell. The chain lock on the door could have anchored a cruise ship. “What do you want?”
<
br />   “Fucking candy. What do you think we want, asshole?” Kahn shot back. “Open the door.”

  Rysimer flashed him a warning glare.

  Kahn could blow this plan with his impatience for revenge. Most Elementals, consumed with their dead and dying loved ones, faced a more immediate crisis then getting vengeance against the Air House. But, the Light Kingdom fell fast and hard. No one else was left now to die or to bury. The Light Phases had nothing else on their agendas for the rest of eternity except killing Parald, of the Air House and every living thing within several thousand feet of him.

  One trip quick trip to the Air Kingdom with the human bomb. Not even Parald could survive that.

  Yeah, Rysimer was betting that the Star of Bethlehem would leave a nice sized crater as a monument to all the innocent Phases that the Air House killed. Maybe it would serve as a tombstone for them all. Odds seemed good that the explosion would kill too many Air Phases. It might destroy the entire House and, as an inevitable consequence, end the world sooner than scheduled.

  Rye was too angry to care, though.

  For some reason, Kahn’s sarcasm seemed to reassure the human with the gun. The guy warily lowered his weapon. His eyes cut to the Black streaks in their hair. All Elementals were born with colored markers at their temples. The Light Phases’ were a solid black that stood out against the rest of the tawny strands.

  Rysimer arched a brow at the guy’s thoughtful expression.

  “Wait here.” The human closed the door, again.

  “Great.” Daven crossed his arms over his chest. “How long will this take? I’m hot. Is it always so hot in this realm?”

  “It’s the Weather House’s fault.” Mannus declared, authoritatively.

  Predictably enough, that set off another argument with Daven. “No, it’s not. It’s the Heat House’s fault. Obviously.”

  “Jesus.” Kahn muttered.

  Julius leaned forward closer to Rysimer and lowered his voice. “This isn’t honorable, Rye.” He chided, renewing his objections to the plan. “You know that.”

  Rysimer sighed. How the hell could Jules have buried both of his parents yesterday and still give a shit about honor? Julius had always been the most idealistic of the Light Phases, though. His face showed lines of tension, and grief, and streaks of dirt, but his black eyes still held hope.

  Rysimer’s hope was long dead.

  “Rye.” Julius pressed. “Listen, Elementals don’t use human technology to attack each other. That’s not, the way that we…”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Kahn roared. He wasn’t an idealist. He never had been and now a genuine darkness grew in his mind.

  No one blamed him for it, either.

  In the past four days, Kahn had lost all six of his younger sisters and his cousin, Mara. Since the death of his parents, years before, Kahn had been looking out for all the girls. They were his world. His heart. The only people, places, or things that he loved.

  Kahn was immune to the disease. It seemed anyone who was still alive at this point was doomed to stay that way. But, he’d watched his sisters and Mara suffering. He’d moved dazedly between their bedsides as they struggled to survive. Their bodies shook from fevers and chills. Their skin took on a horrible shriveled grayness. They coughed and coughed, until -exhausted and delirious from the pain- they drifted into a deep, coma-like sleep and finally surrendered to the plague.

  Watching the Fall drain the girls from the inside out, destroyed every drop of life in Kahn’s soul. He’d sobbed by their graves and screamed at the heavens until there was nothing left inside of him. Kahn was as dead as his sisters, now. Rage was the only thing sustaining him.

  So, Rye could tell that all of Julius’s pretty notions about honor and following the Council’s laws meant exactly shit to Kahn.

  “I mean it, Jules. Just get on fucking board with this or just leave.” Kahn stabbed a finger at him. “Go back to our empty kingdom and wait for the universe to end. ‘Cause, I don’t want to debate the morality of killing the man who just murdered my entire fucking family!”

  Julius cringed slightly, not just at the words, but at Kahn’s volume. Every human in the town turned to gape at him. Granted, Kahn used the Elemental language for his bellowing, so they couldn’t understand the words. But, it still didn’t help with keeping their profile low.

  Harry Belafonte continued encouraging everyone to rock their bodies in time, filling the sudden, uneasy silence.

  “Can we at least agree not to kill any humans?” Julius finally compromised. “Like Daven said, it’ll draw attention and it…”

  “Yes. Fine.” Rye interrupted, mainly just to appease Jules and stop the nagging. “Nobody will slaughter the precious humes, alright?” He sent Kahn a pointed, “this means you” look.

  “Like these guys are doing so much fucking good for their species, anyway.” Kahn shook his head in hollow disbelief. “How can so many useless, evil parasites roam this universe, while my little sisters are gone, buried and rotting under piles of dirt? While Mara was allowed to die alone in the godforsaken Magnet Kingdom?” He glanced away, pressing his lips together so hard that they went white. “How is that possible?” His voice cracked.

  If there was an answer for that, Rysimer certainly didn’t have it.

  Julius reached over and patted Kahn’s back in a clumsy sort of comfort.

  Kahn shoved him away.

  The door creaked open and a smallish human peered out; the same guy who’d pointed the AK-47 at Rye’s skull. He still held it clutched in his hands. Most humans looked alike. This one had dark hair covered by some kind of baseball hat and sunglasses suspended from a neon green string hanging against his shirtfront. “It’s Wednesday.” He announced, as if that meant something important.

  “Fucking hell.” Kahn pushed past him and stomped into the store. His army surplus boots thudded against the cement floor. “Where’s the bomb at? The big one?”

  Kahn was a subtle son-of-a-bitch.

  Rysimer absently ripped the AK-47 out of the human’s hands as he passed, most of his attention on Kahn. “Would you let me handle this? You’re gonna make it worse.” He turned back to the stunned human, tossing the gun to Julius for safe keeping. Bullets won’t kill an Elemental, but they still hurt like hell. “Where’s the Star of Bethlehem?”

  “Yeah. Your way’s much better, Rye.” Kahn sneered. He looked around the dilapidated interior, nudging a box of grenades with his foot. “Fucking parasites.”

  The human automatically raised his hands to shoulder level, his brown eyes wide with shock. “But, it’s Wednesday!” He cried again. “It’s Wednesday! It’s Wednesday!”

  “Why does it keep saying that?” Mannus demanded of no one in particular. “Is it –like-- human, white flag, ‘I surrender’ code or something?”

  “He’s not an it. It’s a he, dumbass.” Daven put-in wisely.

  The human kept his panicked gaze on Rysimer. “You told us to deliver the Star of Bethlehem to you on Tuesday. Yesterday! You should have gotten it yesterday.”

  “I told you?” Rysimer repeated. He’d never seen the human before in his life and all day yesterday he’d been digging pits for the dead bodies stacked six high in the Light Kingdom.

  His eyes slid over to Julius.

  Jules shrugged.

  “He’s lying.” Kahn snapped. “I can make him tell us where it is.”

  “No!” Mannus and Daven coursed, obviously dreading the mangled body parts that idea promised.

  Julius moved forward. Where Kahn stomped, Jules glided. He approached the human with a “this won’t hurt a bit” sort of smile. “You say you met Rye before?” He gestured towards Rysimer. “Are you sure that…?”

  The human shook his head emphatically. “No. No. Another one. Another one like you, though.” He nodded towards the black House designation at Jules’ temple. “Someone with a stripe in his hair took the bomb yesterday.”

  Kahn swore savagely in four different languages.

 
; Rysimer understood the impulse. Another Elemental had the Star of Bethlehem? Shit. Shit. Shit. Who else would be aware of that bomb? Human weapons were beneath the notice of most Phases, but there were still some likely suspects.

  Djinn and those other mobsters in the Fire House certainly topped the list, but there a few others. Eventually, other Phases would come looking for it, but Rye had thought they were too distracted by the Fall to think of the weapon so quickly. Obviously, he’d underestimated one of them.

  “What color was the hair of the guy who took it?” Rysimer pointed at the streak at his temple. “What color was the stripe?”

  The man’s brows compressed. “Black.” He said, as if Rye’s question made no sense.

  The human didn’t know it, but that one word sliced through all of them. It could only mean one thing. Just one. Another Light Phase had survived the Fall.

  Kahn froze.

  Mannus and Daven exchanged a glance.

  Rye heard a roaring in his ears, penetrating his helpless wrath.

  “That’s impossible.” Julius shook his head, looking pale. “We’d know if anyone else from our House still lived. We’d have to, right?” He looked at the others, desperately. “Who could this be?”

  “I don’t know.” Rye admitted, his mind racing. What the hell was going on? His hand curled hand into a frustrated fist. “This kinda fucks up our plans for Parald, though.”

  Kahn’s roared cursing shook the walls. He kicked the box of grenades so hard that they went scattering across the floor.

  Rysimer barely heard him. Another Light Phase had the Star of Bethlehem. Who was it? Why was he staying hidden? How had he survived?

  …And what did he plan to do with the bomb?

  Chapter Eleven

  All elements are but one pervading flame

  Nathaniel Hawthorne- “The Devil in Manuscript”

  Christmas Eve Night

  “This is a terrible idea.” Teja paced around Sullivan’s sparse living room, surreptitiously peering out the front windows to keep watch. “Only a human could think of it. No Elemental would hide right in the spot where people expect us to hide.”