Elemental Air (Paranormal Public Series)

by Edwards, Maddy

  I felt old and battered. I tried to put my hands on the ground and winced in pain. At least they had stopped bleeding. Now they were just caked in dried scarlet.

  After I got out of the shed I used my arm and shoulder to pushed the door closed, then slumped against it, breathing deeply as my body shut down.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you okay?”

  It was Sip and Lisabelle coming toward me, and I could see Bartholem winding his way around Lisabelle’s legs. Apparently he was going to be a fixture with my friend from now on.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I said, squinting up at my friends. “Watch out for the door. It sticks.”

  Lisabelle hurried over to the door, her brow creased. I knew that if there was something to find she would find it. Meanwhile Sip knelt down next to me and seized my hands, clucking at the state they were in. “I have some healing salve that will help with that,” she murmured. “It’s been strengthened by the fallen angels’ healing powers. Unless Keller’s going to get here in time to heal them?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t want him to know this happened. I don’t want anyone to know. It was just an accident.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever it was, you’ve had enough alone time today,” said Sip sternly. “Seriously, the trouble you get into without us. It’s almost like you’re Lisabelle.”

  “Hey!” Lisabelle cried. “I heard that.”

  “You were meant to,” Sip called back over her shoulder.

  Lisabelle came over to us. Her long black hair was pulled away from her face, making her cheekbones look more severe. Her dark eyes were serious.

  “That door was definitely locked. What’s left of the lock proved it. You were trapped in there intentionally,” Lisabelle said.

  Sip’s eyes hardened, though her hands were still gentle as she examined my cuts and bruises.

  “Dacer wanted ice,” I explained, still feeling a little lightheaded.

  “How did you get out?” Sip asked curiously.

  “Let’s talk about it back at our place,” said Lisabelle in a clipped voice. It was the first time I had ever seen her look nervous. “I’ll take Dacer the ice and meet you back there. Sip, you going to be okay?”

  “Of course,” said Sip, for once not making a sarcastic comment back. Both my friends helped me to my feet. “Just because a paranormal tried to kill Charlotte doesn’t mean I’m going to go to pieces.”

  “That would only happen if something happened to me, right?” Lisabelle teased.

  “It only happens when I don’t get my tea in the morning,” Sip insisted, leading me like a small child back to our camp.

  When we got there, Lough was nowhere to be seen. Instead of staying with Lisabelle, Bartholem had come with us. He seemed to think he was very useful and that we needed him more than Lisabelle did right then, and he might not have been wrong. But even so, instead of being friendly he simply curled up on the best chair in the living room and went to sleep.

  “Are you okay?” Sip asked me tensely once we were sure we were alone. For the second time since we had gotten to our camp, she did that trick Lisabelle had taught her at Locke of checking for listening devices. When nothing smoked, she sat me down on the sofa.

  “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want any?” She didn’t even wait for an answer, she just disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Sure,” I said. My hands were already feeling better.

  “Sip, that stuff’s amazing,” I said, examining the closed cuts. I could barely see where the blisters had been a few minutes before.

  “My mom gave it to me,” said Sip, blushing with pleasure. “She won’t tell me where she got it OR how much it costs, which means it was really expensive. She just said, the way you and Lisabelle and Charlotte are going you’re going to need it.”

  I giggled. “She got that right.”

  Sip grinned at me from inside the little kitchen. “Yup.”

  It didn’t take long for Lisabelle to come back. She looked positively harassed.

  “Dacer’s crazy,” she said, plopping down on the other end of the couch from me. Bartholem promptly got up, jumped down from his perch, and came over to sit on Lisabelle’s lap. The darkness mage petted the cat absently while Bartholem purred like an engine.

  “He wants me to wash dishes. ME. Dishes. I told him I’d magically wash all of them right now. He was furious. He said everything must be authentic. I asked him how that wasn’t authentic, and he launched into something, something, something, about French architecture, as if THAT has anything to do with anything.”

  Sip reappeared with a tray, a teapot, and three cups. Then she went back and fetched sugar, cream, and sliced lemons.

  “Lisabelle, dear, we were discussing important matters, if you don’t mind,” said Sip, with an extra show of patience and kindness.

  “Like what?” Lisabelle demanded, looking at Sip from beneath her black lashes. “How about this: It’s too hot for tea.”

  “It’s never too hot for tea,” said Sip, and despite our protests, she handed each of us a cup. Once she had her own and had sat herself comfortably down in the seat that Bartholem had just vacated, she looked at me and said, “Okay, I’m ready. Start from the beginning.”

  “Yes, now that’s Sip’s ready the world may rotate again,” said Lisabelle, pretending to talk to Bartholem.

  I started from the beginning. I told my friends how I had wanted to go for a walk to clear my head, but then I had run into Lough and the two of us had walked together. I told them about spotting Malle and hiding behind the tree and about Lough wanting to leave, but my insistence on listening. That’s when my friends started to ask questions. I relayed what I had heard as clearly as I could and explained that Caid did not seem the least bit uncomfortable in Malle’s company.

  “They were agreeing on something,” I said stubbornly. “He agreed to do something for her and she wants it done now, but he says it’s the kind of thing that takes time. He’s a Nocturn. The president of the paranormals is a Nocturn.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” said Sip worriedly. “He could have been talking to her for all kinds of reasons that we don’t know about. Last semester Caid said he was the most loyal paranormal we would ever meet.”

  “He lied,” I said bitterly. I remembered that conversation, one of the times he had snuck into Astra. He had said he didn’t think the artifacts were real, but if they were I was welcome to try and find them. Well, I had now wasted a summer looking for the Globe White, with not even a hint of its whereabouts or even any evidence of its existence.

  “Are you going to tell Dacer?” Lisabelle asked, still stroking Bartholem. She hadn’t touched her tea.

  “I don’t think so,” I said in frustration. “How can I?”

  “Good question,” Lisabelle agreed. Noticing Sip glaring at her, she rolled her eyes and picked up her teacup.

  “And Sip, I don’t know that I believe he had a good reason to just TALK to her. If I talked to her I’d try to kill her,” I finished hotly.

  “Look how well that’s worked out for you,” said Sip dryly. “Trafton told me about the injuries you had after you fought her. It’s madness.”

  I shrugged. “She’s a full mage. I had to try.”

  “Do you think the hellhounds were there for her?” Sip asked.

  I nodded. “Definitely. She must have guards. Even if Caid is on her side, the rest of us aren’t. She would want protection and help in case the two of them were discovered together.”

  Lisabelle, who had been quiet, chewed her lower lip. “What about Saferous?”

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “I thought he was trustworthy too, but apparently not.”

  Just then the door banged open and Lough came in.

  “Hi, all,” he said in his usual jovial tone, his cheeks as red as ever. “I tell you I’ve had such a day. It’s been -” He was about to plop down on the other chair when he caught sight of Bartholem.

  “Um, wha
t’s that doing here?” he asked in horror. “Doesn’t he have anywhere else to be?” He glared at the cat.

  Lisabelle glanced down at the cat, who was purring so loudly even I could hear him. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Well, I’m going to take a shower,” said Lough testily. “Maybe he’ll be gone by the time I’m finished.”

  “Maybe,” said Lisabelle, trying to keep from laughing.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” said Lough, his cheeks getting even redder. “That cat’s going to turn out to be demon spawn, and then you’ll be sorry.”

  “I would laugh,” said Lisabelle, “but I don’t want to disturb the cat.”

  Lough fled as the rest of us burst into laughter. We kept right on talking until he came back, his face looking freshly scrubbed and his hair still wet.

  “You should start getting ready for the party,” he chided us. “Caid’s back yard looks pretty amazing out there. Watching Dacer is almost as entertaining as attending the party will be. He’s really in his element.”

  After we caught him up on what we’d been talking about, Lough decided to go and see if Dacer needed any more help. He refused to stay in the downstairs of the cabin alone with the cat while we got ready for the party.

  “The cat has a name,” said Lisabelle, her eyes dancing.

  “Oh, does he? Oh, well,” said Lough, slamming the door on his way out.

  Lisabelle went over to pet Bartholem, whom she had left sitting comfortably on the chair by himself. “He doesn’t like you, does he?” she murmured in the cat’s ear. Bartholem barely stirred.

  “What kind of party is this, anyway?” Sip asked, rummaging through her bag. “I didn’t realize it would be so fancy.”

  Dacer had warned me that Caid was having an important party that we would be attending before our return to Public and the start of my junior year, so I was somewhat better prepared than the others. I had a shimmery dress that skimmed my knees, all in white. My frizzy brown hair needed to be washed, and Sip was going to lend me a blue necklace.

  Sip had picked a long dress in purple and green. She’d had to hem it to within an inch of its life because she was so short.

  “I like the short sleeves,” I said admiringly.

  “Thanks,” said Sip, beaming. “My mom made it.”

  “Wow,” I said. “She’s really good.”

  “She said she practiced through all the boys,” said Sip, grinning. “She really wanted a girl, and then she got a tomboy with short hair. But I’m coming around.”

  “What are you wearing?” I turned to Lisabelle and instantly rolled my eyes. She was in a black long-sleeved dress, black shoes, and a black necklace. She had her hair pulled back tightly.

  “Why is your dress short and your sleeves long?” Sip asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Because I don’t want anyone to see my wand,” said Lisabelle, affectionately tapping her arm.

  “Ah,” said Sip. “That makes sense.”

  “Caid would probably run right to Malle and tell her,” I said. “Then we’d be in real trouble.”

  “One of her biggest weaknesses is losing her wand,” said Sip. “She must be trying to figure out her own way of getting around that.”

  “Like gluing it to her hand,” said Lisabelle. “When we rip it out of her fingers we can take some skin with it!”

  “And on that note,” said Sip, sighing as she turned around to grab a small purple bag to carry with her, “let’s go to the party.”

  “Why are you being skeptical?” Lisabelle demanded as she followed us downstairs. “It’s true that if she glued it to her hand, ripping it out would take skin with it. That’s why I didn’t glue my own.”

  “Really?” Sip demanded, waving to Bartholem and opening the front door. “I thought it was because it would make things like writing, eating, and generally existing difficult.”

  “News flash,” said Lisabelle, “existing is already difficult.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” said Sip. She pulled up her dress so that it wouldn’t drag on the ground and headed down the path.

  “Can I get that in writing?” Lisabelle asked.

  “Only because I haven’t glued a wand to my hand,” said Sip, grinning.

  Chapter Eight

  Night had fallen while we were in the cabin discussing whether or not Caid was a traitor. As it happened, I really didn’t think there was much need for discussion. It was obvious that Caid had turned to darkness. Now I just wanted to know why.

  The lake was ablaze in a million white lights. The trees were hung with lanterns in the shape of leaves, while strings of white lights hung off of branches. It was a very beautiful and delicate scene. I hadn’t realized how many paranormals had arrived, but the whole back yard of the summer house was overflowing.

  Everyone wore his or her finest.

  The paths, normally just well trodden forest floor, had been sprinkled with white stones and pebbles.

  “This is pretty,” said Sip happily. “I wonder if Lough laid the stones.”

  “I sure did,” said Lough, coming up to us and grinning broadly. He was in gray dress pants and a light blue button down shirt. He also wore a silver flower in the top buttonhole of a long blue jacket.

  “You clean up nice,” said Sip approvingly. “I had no idea.”

  Lough grinned. “It’s dream giver garb.”

  “So, Trafton will wear something like that too?” Lisabelle asked, eyeing Lough.

  Lough growled. “Uh huh. He is,” he said reluctantly.

  “He’s here already?” I asked. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah,” said Lough. “He’s talking to Rake.”

  “Rake’s here?” Sip chirped.

  “Why are you happy to see that vampire lug?” Lisabelle asked.

  “That vampire lug has saved your life numerous time,” said Rake, walking along the path. Trafton was behind him.

  “Ladies,” Rake greeted us. “You all look wonderful.”

  “Hey, thanks,” said Sip, blushing a rosy shade of red.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Lisabelle, waving dismissively at both young men as she brushed past them.

  “Yeah, we noticed,” said Trafton dryly.

  “I have a couple of paranormals to find,” said Lisabelle, ignoring him.

  Trafton stepped up to me, smiling. He was dressed similarly to Lough, only his pants and jacket were silver and he wore sandals instead of dress shoes. As usual, he looked beautiful. His curly blond hair, worn a little longer than most of the other guys at Public kept theirs, was perfectly messy.

  He watched Lisabelle walk away. “I just wanted to say hi,” he said plaintively.

  “I’m sure she’ll let you talk to her later,” said Sip comfortingly. “In five or six years, maybe.”

  Trafton shrugged. “I can’t believe there are faeries here,” he said, changing the subject. It was a good thing, since Lough looked like he was about to explode.

  Be careful of the darkness. The darkness is careful of you.

  Darkness calls to darkness. I remembered the dream I had, all the way back during my Starter year, in which Lisabelle had killed our friends, and I flinched. It was just a dream. Just because I had lived some of dreams after I had them did not mean I would live that one. I already hadn’t.

  “Are the faeries here?” Sip asked excitedly, scanning the spacious grounds.

  “Yes,” said Trafton with amusement.

  “Wow,” said Sip reverently. “Any paranormal who isn’t a fan of the pixies is a friend of mine. Did you know they’re on good terms with dragons?”

  By this time we had arrived in Caid’s large back yard. There were now white chairs and tables everywhere, with a space cleared right next to the water for dancing. Immediately in front of that space was one long table, where I assumed Caid would preside over the dinner that Dacer had spent all day helping to prepare.

  “Charlotte Rollins?”

  An important-looking man wearing a large gra
y hat and topcoat and holding a black cane bustled over to me. He was as round as he was tall and had a jovial air about him.

  “Yes?” I said, unsure of how to respond to this stranger. My friends were busy greeting other paranormals; Caid’s party was packed. It seemed that all the students of Public, plus their families, plus any other paranormals within reach, were already there.

  “I’m Michael Mound,” said the stranger, stretching out a hand. My first thought, which was horrible, was that I’d never seen such a fat pixie.

  I felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on my head. This was the man who had spent semesters terrorizing me in the paranormal daily news, the Tabble, and here he was, stretching out his hand and smiling at me for all the world as if we were friends, while all I could do was stare stupidly at him.

  He raised his eyebrows questioningly at me. This was one of those times when I wished I could be Lisabelle. Her perfect timing for biting remarks would have come in handy with this guy.

  Suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head. “I wish I could say it was nice to meet you,” I told him honestly.

  To my great surprise, for I thought I’d achieved a pretty good zinger, at least for me, Mound threw back his head and laughed.

  “I heard you ran with a smart crowd,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You spy on me?” I asked suspiciously, giving him a hard look. I wouldn’t put it past him. Some of the stuff he had printed in the past year he could only have known if he talked to other students on campus.

  “My dear, that’s such a vulgar term,” he said, waving me off.

  “Not if it’s true,” I said.

  “As the only elemental, you should expect a certain amount of press,” he chided me.

  “Besides,” he said, “I keep the paranormal public interested, if you’ll excuse the pun.” Again he threw back his head and laughed at his own joke. Amazingly, he managed to accomplish this without spilling the large glass of red wine he was clutching.

  “How was your summer?” he asked. “See any demons?”

  I instantly bristled. Until this morning I hadn’t, but he couldn’t possibly know that. Trying for lightness I said, “It was great. Warm weather all along, and now I’m back with my friends.”