Elemental Earth (Paranormal Public)

by Edwards, Maddy

  Elemental Earth

  (Paranormal Public, Book VII)

  by

  Maddy Edwards

  Copyright © 2013 by Maddy Edwards

  Cover Design © K.C. Designs

  This novel is a work of fiction in which names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is completely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written consent of the author.

  My blog: http://maddyedwards.blogspot.com/

  My goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5288585.Maddy_Edwards

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter One

  “We need to talk,” said my stepfather. I was lounging on the couch, waiting to return to Paranormal Public the next day after a short visit home to see Ricky. Now my little brother was at a friend’s house, but we had spent the weekend talking and playing and eating. Every time I came home it was harder to leave him, possibly because I knew very well that I might die fighting the Nocturns before I had a chance to see him again.

  I glanced up from my book. I had wanted to read something about Queen Ashray, but I didn’t want my family to be suspicious, so I had picked up some weird science fiction book I didn’t really care about instead.

  I was so surprised at what my stepfather had said that at first I didn’t respond. He hadn’t said a word to me since I had come home, not one word. Ricky had given up badgering us into talking, and the silence only bothered me because I knew it bothered Ricky. Otherwise, I had expected this visit to go the way of the others. There would be several uncomfortable silences and then I would leave and return to Paranormal Public.

  This weekend, though, I had caught my stepfather giving me several strange looks. I had simply ignored them. We had so many problems back at Public - like where was the Globe White and why had elementals murdered my mother and what was Caid’s possible involvement with Malle - that having my stepfather act strangely didn’t concern me.

  “Okay,” I said, carefully closing my book and laying it on the couch next to me. I sat up and raised my eyebrows.

  “Where is safest? Outside?” he asked, motioning to the window to point out the great outdoors. My stepfather was not an attractive man. Not that I cared, but I had always wondered what my mother saw in him. He was short and balding, with a slight potbelly and wispy bits of dull-colored hair. He didn’t say much, and he spent his evenings watching TV. He worked at a lumber hauling company and we had a small house. The only good thing I could say about him was that he was dependable. In all the years they were married, I don’t think he ever missed a day of work. Mom claimed they had taken a honeymoon, but there were no pictures of it, so I didn’t really believe her.

  His question surprised me so much that my mouth fell open.

  “It’s going to be difficult to talk if you can’t get a word out,” said my stepfather. “Come on.”

  I quickly pushed myself off the couch, which wasn’t very comfortable anyway. I liked to sink into my couches, and this one was too hard too allow much sinking. My stepdad had gotten it after my mom died, and I had taken it as a comment on what kind of man he was. My mom would have picked a better couch.

  It was a stormy day, with gray clouds threatening rain from early morning. I had walked Ricky to his friend’s house and told him to call me so I could walk him back. He had informed me that he was too old for that and he’d walk himself home.

  I hadn’t argued, but it was normal boys who were too old for that.

  Boys whose older sister was the last elemental would never be too old for that.

  My stepdad was already grabbing a jacket, even though he was never cold. I was always glad to leave the house, because he and Ricky were fine with the place freezing at a time when I wanted to be under eight quilts.

  I grabbed my coat and put on my boots, because there was still snow on the ground from December. Then I pulled on a knitted cap, covering the long brown hair that was so like my mother’s. When I grabbed the doorknob to go out, I had a sudden flash of when Cale had visited. We hadn’t heard from him since he had joined the Paranormal Police Academy, and I wondered how he was doing. At least he was away from his ex-girlfriend, Camilla Van Crazy.

  My stepdad was standing on our porch, looking at one of the old trees in the front yard.

  “The woods?” he asked, pointing. I nodded. Our house was half surrounded by forest, and it had been a long time since I’d been in any other woods than the ones around Public.

  We fell into step next to each other, neither of us saying a word. I wondered if my stepdad was going to ask me not to come home anymore. I was surprised he hadn’t already, given how little liking he had for my presence. We both knew it would hurt Ricky if I stopped coming, but Ricky was getting older. Soon he would be able to visit me instead of my coming to him. I wondered if I would ever come back here after that.

  “You and I have never seen eye to eye,” said my stepdad, squinting up at the treetops as we walked.

  My hands were shoved deep into my pockets, and I could see my breath billowing out in front of me. I merely nodded. So, this was it.

  “It was difficult with you,” he said. “I knew you weren’t mine, and you made no secret of how much you despised me. Your real father was always a presence, even if neither of us knows who he was. I blame your mother for not telling you more about him. You had all these fantasies of what a great father he would have made, a far better father than me.”

  “You didn’t really try to be my father,” I said bitterly.

  He shrugged. “I am what I am. I knew I’d never match up with the idea you had in your head. And I was bitter that in order to have your mother, I also had to be saddled with an angry teenager.”

  I took a deep breath, fighting down the anger that bubbled up inside me. I knew he had a point, but it was hard for me to admit it.

  “Okay,” I said, ordering myself to calm down and not get angry. “So, you don’t want me to come back anymore?” I couldn’t help it. The words just came tumbling out, and it wasn’t until after I had said them that I realized how hurt I’d be by it.

  My stepfather glanced at me and I felt sure I saw surprise register on his face.

  “No,” he said. He rubbed his hand over his bald head. “I loved your mother. I knew she didn’t love me back. I knew that. To this day I don’t know what she thought she was doing, except now I see you, and I see
more than you think. There’s something very strange about you. It was the same with your mother. I would speculate, except that I couldn’t possibly believe it to be true. The only good that has come of it is that I have a better idea why your mother married me.”

  I started to speak, but this common man, who was about to do a very uncommon thing, held up his hand for silence. “Let me get this out,” he said, “before I loose my courage or change my mind.”

  For the first time since I had met him, my heart went out to him. So I stayed silent, walking alongside him through the woods.

  “I love Ricky,” he said. “You love him too. It is the one thing we have always agreed on. Our saving grace. Our common ground. I love him as if he were my own.” He took a deep breath. “And I will protect him as if he were my own. Until my dying breath. Until you figure out how to protect him, as I’m sure you’re trying to do. I do not want any harm to come to that boy. I am his father. Regardless of his blood. I am his father.”

  I had never heard my stepdad sound so fierce or so sad.

  “How did you know?” I asked finally, when I realized he was waiting for me to speak.

  He laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t hard. Your mother brought much of her magic stuff with her. I never pried, but sometimes she would leave it out. Sometimes strange things would happen. I tried to ask her about it and about you. It wasn’t until recently, when you went off to college and strange things continued to happen, that I realized that Ricky -”

  My stepdad shook his head. “Ricky came along soon after your mother and I met. I was a little surprised at the time, but I was so happy to have your mother and Ricky that I didn’t think about it very hard. There was never a doubt in my mind that he was mine.”

  “He still might be,” I whispered.

  My stepdad shook his head. “No,” he said. “Ricky is my son, but not by blood.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “As am I,” he said. “I wish your mother had told me, but I see now why she couldn’t.”

  I thought my stepdad was being very brave. For a man who hadn’t asked for any of this, and who had just figured out that the child he’d been raising as his own was in fact a stranger’s, he was brave indeed.

  “I’ll die protecting him too,” I said.

  My stepdad sighed. “Yes, I know. Your mother made the same promise about you. I hope she didn’t do it in vain.”

  We walked for a long time after that, wrapped in a silence that went with understanding and sadness. Somehow, I knew this would be the last time I would see him.

  When we returned to the house my stepdad motioned for me to follow him. “I have something of your mother’s for you,” he said. “It’s a box, but I can’t open it. I thought you might have better luck.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure that I would.

  “While we’re on the subject,” he said, “is there anything I can do to help your brother?”

  I wasn’t sure what subject we were on, but I bit my lower lip. I’d been thinking about that as we walked. I wanted to give my stepdad some way to help, but I wasn’t sure what that could be.

  “There are very strong protections in place here,” I started.

  He nodded as if that wasn’t a surprise to him.

  “But you have no way to contact me,” I said thoughtfully. “If something goes wrong, you need a way to call for help. I can give you that.”

  “Very good,” he said. He handed me the box he had been holding, and I took it slowly. My hands slid over the smooth dark wood and my stepdad let go. I knew we were both holding our breath, wondering what would happen at my touch.

  Nothing.

  There were no sparks, no magic opening. It was merely a wooden box. There was another circle of wood in the middle, a completely separate piece, but I couldn’t get it to move or come off, even with tugging.

  “You can’t open it?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I remember your mother putting things in there, pieces of jewelry and some papers. I used to tease her about it, because she would hide it whenever she left the house. Why hide a box no one can get into but her? I had to assume that it was because there was a way to open it, and now I figure that if anyone can figure out what that way is, it’s her daughter.”

  My throat felt tight and my eyes burned as I looked down at the box. I too remembered it. My mother loved that box like nothing else. I had known that my stepdad still had it, but I’d been afraid to ask. Now he was handing it to me.

  “You have to tell Ricky,” he said. “Maybe you don’t have to tell me, but Ricky should know that his life’s in danger, why his mother died, and that his only sister might also die.”

  “I don’t know why mom died,” I cried. “I still don’t know. All I know is that she was killed by friends.”

  My stepdad’s jaw clenched and he looked away as he said, “Do you know who?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are they still alive?”

  “I don’t think so,” I told him honestly. If I was the only living elemental, then the elementals who killed Mom must have died since then. I hoped they had died, because if they hadn’t it would be the first time I really wanted another paranormal dead.

  “I’ll tell Ricky when I know what to say,” I said. “Until then I’m afraid that it will just be words.”

  “Words have power,” my stepdad said. “The day your mom agreed to marry me, it was with words. She sealed our fates together and made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  That’s my stepdad for you, never grand, never over the top, just “the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  “I promise I’ll tell him this summer,” I said, “when I finish this junior year.”

  “Fine,” said my stepdad.

  I turned to walk away, back to read my book in the living room until Ricky came home.

  “Charlotte?” my stepdad called after me.

  I turned around to face him again, my feelings a jumbled mess. I noticed that the wood floor had the same throw rug on it that had been there when my mom was alive, but now it was worn and frayed at the edges. The floorboards were starting to separate in places and the wallpaper Mom had been so excited to hang when we moved in was peeling a bit. He hadn’t changed a thing.

  “Yeah?” I asked, unsure how to interact with this man who knew my secret and who had decided to keep it, not for me but for the woman he had loved and lost. What a life.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  Coming from him it was like he was telling me he loved me too. I gave one nod and rushed into the living room, afraid tears would stream from my face if I didn’t.

  Chapter Two

  Ricky wanted to know how I was leaving. He wanted to know why I didn’t need a ride to the airport or the train station or the bus station. He informed me that if I was hiding a car somewhere and not giving him rides I was a horrible sister.

  “Ricky,” I said, exasperated, “for the millionth time, I don’t have a car.”

  “Or a boyfriend?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “No, I still have a boyfriend,” I said. “You’d like him.”

  “I’m sure I would,” said Ricky dryly. “Feel free to introduce us any old time.”

  I threw up my hands. We were sitting out back on a makeshift rope swing my dad had put up years ago. It was old and covered in dark spots from water and wind, but it was still sturdy. Ricky’s small hands were wrapped around the rope as I pushed him from behind.

  “When’s Lisabelle coming again?” he asked. “Spring break?”

  “Maybe,” I said, trying to be noncommittal. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be visiting here for spring break, and neither would Lisabelle.

  “Charlotte?” he asked, after I had pushed him in silence for several minutes.

  “Yeah?” I said. I put both my hands on his back and gave him another shove, feeling the softness of his fleece jacket. He was growing up, but he still wasn’t very big.

  �
�Tell me about Mom,” he said quietly. For a moment I thought I hadn’t heard him right, that his words had caught the wind. But after a pause I knew I had.

  I bit my lip. We barely talked about Mom and I wasn’t sure why. I think it was just because it hurt too much.

  “She was so happy about you,” I said. “I don’t remember much about it, but I remember her jumping up and down with glee.”

  “Who told her to stop that?” he asked gruffly. “She might have hurt me.”

  I was about to say no one when the memory of a man flashed before my eyes. He was tall and impossibly handsome, with pale skin and dark blond hair. His green eyes sparkled as he looked at my mother. My mom had been beautiful when she was young.

  Who was that man? Was he a figment of my wishful imagination? Maybe he was a friend of hers, or maybe he was one of the ones who had banded together and killed her.

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I’m sure someone did.”

  “Hey, Charlotte,” Ricky said. He was looking over his shoulder at me as he continued to swing.

  “Umm?”

  “Pay attention to me, not to your imagination, please,” he said, glaring.

  I grinned. “Sorry.”

  “Mom loved to cook and she loved to sew, but for some reason she was a great cook and a horrible seamstress. She always claimed that she didn’t have the patience for it, but I know that wasn’t it. Cooking required patience too, and everything she made was glorious. She also loved to decorate. She wouldn’t even set foot in this house until they’d redone the downstairs, and it was a big deal, because your dad didn’t make a lot of money, so she was very careful about cost. I remember one summer when we were pregnant with you we went around and found stuff on the side of the road. All of it was either really cheap or free.”

  “Did she seem happy?” Ricky asked.

  I paused. I had told Ricky that Mom was happy about him and it was the truth, but that summer, I remember very clearly, she seemed sad about something. Whenever I asked her about it, though, she told me she didn’t want to talk about it.