Elemental Fire (Paranormal Public Series)

by Edwards, Maddy

  “I mean, something more than the obvious,” I clarified. “Where are the pixies?” I saw vampires, fallen angels, members of Airlee, but nowhere did I see a single pixie.

  “Oh, they’re over there,” said Trafton, his voice steady. “The all-star treatment.” I looked where his shaking finger pointed. He was trying to hide his fear, but only half-successfully.

  The pixies were in a corner, close to a brightly burning bonfire. They were not in a pen, or under any sort of lockdown. They were not tied up like their fellow students.

  “Why are the darkness mages favoring the pixies?”

  “Poor taste?” Lisabelle said. “Camilla is probably in heaven.”

  Indeed, I could see Camilla. She was basically sitting on Cale’s lap, close to the fire. Her blond hair looked like it had just been washed and combed, and she wasn’t dirty and bruised like the other paranormals. The happy face of my pixie nemesis only increased my ire. Cale, for his part, looked somber and a little worried. His round face was filled with sadness. Cale just wanted everyone to get along. He had always been nice to me, but secretly. He just didn’t have the balls to be nice to me in front of Camilla.

  “They’re going to let the pixies go and kill the rest?” Sip said frantically. “That’s gross.”

  “They won’t kill everyone,” said Lisabelle confidently. “At least not yet. They need them, if for nothing else than to serve as a distraction while Ms. Vale searches for the Mirror Arcane, which they believe in on the grounds of Public somewhere.”

  “You remember at Locke when we suddenly woke up to find Faci torturing the puppy?”

  “You mean when he wanted an audience for his insanity, so that we all knew to be afraid of him?” Lisabelle whispered back.

  “Yeah, that,” said Sip, her eyes intent on the pens. “Think this is like that?”

  “This isn’t anything like a dream,” said Lisabelle quietly. “More’s the pity.”

  “I can see why you hid in Airlee,” I said to Trafton. He was standing behind us, grim-faced.

  “Just wait until you see the mages,” he cautioned. “Then you’ll understand.”

  Just as he spoke, something moved into sight from around one of the nearby buildings, and a scream caught in my throat. It looked like a demon, all blazing orange and red fire, but when I looked more closely I realized that it was merely a figure in robes and a hood of dark maroon. It was what the figure was holding that was blazing.

  “Fire whip,” said Sip. “That’s all kinds of not good. I thought those things were illegal.”

  “They are,” said Lisabelle, her voice shaking with anger. “Feel free to go tell the darkness mage holding it that he isn’t allowed. See how well that works. I would do it from at least twenty feet.”

  “I mean, they could at least have the courtesy to fight fair,” Sip muttered. “I hate rule-breakers. So stressful.”

  Trafton chuckled softly behind us.

  “Is that Ms. Vale?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at Trafton.

  “No,” said Trafton. “I don’t see her.”

  But more were coming. I stopped counting how many Fire Whip wielders there were at ten. I gulped.

  “Are they moving them?” I asked worriedly. All thought of trying to rescue my fellow classmates was out of my head now. We had no hope of saving them against so many, especially while my magic was still depleted.

  “I don’t think they’re going anywhere,” said Trafton. Then he gave a muffled cry and toppled forward. I turned just as he slammed into my side, but it was too late.

  “And neither are you,” said Zervos’s nasty voice. His salt and pepper hair perfectly combed, his eyes wild, and his white teeth flashing in the darkness, he stood behind us brandishing a knife.

  Chapter Eight

  “You don’t want to do this,” said Sip, clearly trying to stall Zervos from taking us down to the Fire Whips and Vale.

  “Shut up,” said Zervos coldly. He raised his hand and slapped it across Sip’s face. The werewolf’s head snapped to her left and her eyes lit with unshed tears. Lisabelle started forward, but I grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t make a scene,” I hissed. “He will kill us.” Lisabelle’s eyes were furious, and her arm muscles under my hands were taut as she glared at Zervos.

  “At least let me make sure he’s okay,” she said, tilting her chin toward Trafton. Slowly, the dream giver got to his feet. His face was white and both his hands were pressed against the wound in his side. Blood seeped through his tanned fingers.

  “Hit her again and I swear I’ll kill you,” Lisabelle gritted out. Zervos’s eyes blazed. As he raised his hand as if to strike Sip a second time, Lisabelle tensed and I held my breath. I was not at all sure which of the two would win in a fight.

  Zervos slowly lowered his hand, his smile growing wider as his eyes grew brighter.

  “Watch yourself, mage,” he said venomously. “You have no friends here and your good-for-nothing uncle is not around to protect you.”

  “You mean the uncle whose job you want?” Lisabelle said coldly. Then, turning away from Zervos and starting down the trail, she called back to us over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  She had taken Zervos by surprise, but he quickly recovered. Paranormals don’t become professors of universities without a strong skill set. He shot in front of us so fast it was as if he had disappeared from one spot and reappeared in another.

  “I will lead this little party,” he said menacingly. “As a matter of fact. . . .”

  He held up his ring. It was blood red, but in its depths I could see flecks of black. I didn’t know what that meant, except that it couldn’t be good for us.

  In an instant, before anyone could react, heavy black chains lashed our arms and even our feet. I felt the weight as they clamped around my ankles, instantly bruising them. Trafton, right in front of me, tripped. I caught him around the left arm, desperately trying to avoid his wound, and he gave me an appreciative smile. We were now chained to each other with no hope of escape. Sip also had a chain around her neck that I was sure kept her from transforming into a werewolf and running.

  “You are evil,” Sip spat. “Through and through. Just when I think you might have a redeeming shred of decency hiding in there somewhere, you stab my friend. It’s disgusting. You are darkness. The Nocturns call and you go like a dog.”

  Lisabelle gave Sip an impressed look. Trafton tucked his head to keep his weak smile hidden while Zervos remained unreadable.

  “March,” Zervos barked, twirling around. We had been standing a good distance from the pens, on a little hill. As Zervos took us on the most direct path to a group of three Fire Whips standing together, I held my head high and refused to look around. But once we came into view, the entire camp fell silent. The only noises were the occasional crackle of fire and an ominous snapping sound that came from the one Fire Whip who was idly crackling his weapon.

  Suddenly, the air was split with a scream from a student who had dashed to the walls of the pen that held her. She was Airlee, but I didn’t know her. “No,” she yelled, her mousy brown hair tousled and her nose streaked with dirt. I was close enough now that I could see she wasn’t wearing any shoes. “Leave them alone. Leave CHARLOTTE alone.”

  It was small comfort under the circumstances, but I was heartened that I still had defenders among the paranormals. After what happened at Locke I had not been sure.

  The girl continued to scream and a few others took up her cry, until at least half the camp was chanting, “Set Charlotte free. Set Charlotte free.”

  “ENOUGH,” one of the Fire Whips cried. I couldn’t see the face because it was covered with a hood, but I heard the crackle of the whip. I flinched reflexively, my body already preparing itself for the sound of searing flesh. When it came I wanted to cry. The Fire Whip had gone over to the pen that held the brown-haired girl. To her credit, she had seen him coming and refused to move. The whip had snaked out, as fast as lightning, and struck the girl on her
outstretched hand. She screamed and fell to her knees, letting out one more chant before the whip struck again, this time on her shoulder. The girl cried and fell sideways, gasping for air as her wounds started to ooze.

  “Leave her alone,” Trafton yelled. “She didn’t do anything to you!” The Fire Whip turned, and for a second I thought he didn’t have a face, although I had never heard Lisabelle talk about any darkness mages who were as different from her as that. The place in the hood where a face should have been was all black, keeping his features shrouded. He raised his Whip again, but this time he simply struck the ground. Then he did it again, and again. At first I wondered what on earth he was doing, but then the air was filled with snarls, and I realized with dread that he had been sending a signal.

  Hellhounds poured in from every direction, with five or six racing to surround each pen, their black fur tipped with burning red sparks and their red eyes snapping from side to side. The penned-in paranormals whimpered. Many were crying. The hellhounds snarled. I had never noticed their tails before, but I could see now that they were like large black clubs, another weapon.

  For a few moments my attention was so focused on the arrival of the hellhounds that I forgot about the Fire Whip. But then, when I turned, I saw that he was now standing before Trafton with the whip held lightly in his hand.

  He cracked it, but without quite hitting Trafton. The dream giver tried not to flinch, but he was obviously jumpy. Silence had again fallen over the camp. The other Fire Whips stood around watching, and I found myself wishing that they had faces, as if that could have given me some information that we could put to use in fighting them. Meanwhile, the paranormals in the cages were silent, their eyes fixed on us.

  Again and again the Fire Whip cracked his weapon, first just near Trafton, then hitting him. The blows started out as tiny licks of the fire, little scratches, enough to put Trafton in pain but not enough to make him cry out. Trafton stood his ground stoically, his hands pressed to his side where Zervos had wounded him. I spared a glance at our professor, but his eyes were hooded. He must have perfected that unreadable look years ago, I thought. The rest of us were not so impassive.

  “You do not like seeing your friend suffer?” a woman’s voice asked me. I looked past the Fire Whip who was tormenting Trafton to see that a middle-aged woman had appeared. She was short and thin, with a round face and a coil of blond hair that wound around her head.

  Ms. Vale looked nothing like her children. Unlike Dobrov, she had no decency lighting her eyes and no humility softening her features. She wore a red robe, but she carried no Fire Whip. Her eyes were round and black, set wide apart in her pale face. Her nose was so small it was more like a button. She had tiny ears. A very odd-looking woman, all in all, but one who in her youth, I imagined, had been striking. Her voice was rich and amused, as if we were having a normal conversation about the weather or what we were going to do that weekend.

  “I don’t like seeing monsters,” I said, clenching my fists. “Unchain me and I’ll show you just how much I don’t like it.” The chains must have had spells in them that kept my magic from working, because I had tried to call to my ring, to order my magic outward to stop the attack on the Airlee in the pen and on Trafton, but nothing had happened. I felt lost and naked without my power.

  “Ha, ha, big talk for a little Astra,” said Ms. Vale, her laughter tinkling around us like the glass crystals of a chandelier clinking together.

  “I’ve met my fair share of bullies,” I said, trying to sound bored. “No offense, but you are not remotely the worst.”

  “Evil, like love, is not a competition. It’s not about just one winner. You either do it, can do it, or you cannot. I am not evil. I am merely trying to help. I have children who attend this school, after all, and I would hate to see their education neglected.”

  “Good thing you aren’t letting that happen,” said Trafton. He was sweating and his eyes were feverish. His shirt and arms were covered in blood.

  Ms. Vale turned her black eyes toward Trafton, but they skated over him as if she thought him irrelevant. Trafton’s shoulders relaxed a little when she stopped looking at him, as if he was relieved that she was turning her attention elsewhere.

  “We are here to make a deal. I would explain it to you, but I do not have to justify myself to children. Suffice to say that the elemental’s presence here will make negotiating considerably easier.”

  My stomach turned. We had walked into a trap. The committee members had tried to keep us away as best they could, but we hadn’t listened. We had merely believed what they said, that Public was closed, even after the signs - above all the fact that we had seen no students coming out - were obvious. Now they had me, Sip, and Lisabelle too for whatever purpose this madwoman desired.

  “You remind me of Daisy,” Lisabelle said casually. She stood with her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. “The crazy side anyway.”

  Ms. Vale smirked. “You do not scare me, Ms. Verlans. I am not impressed by your ego. What we are doing here is for the greater good. For my children’s good. I do not care whether you understand or not. It will all be clear soon enough.”

  “Oh, great,” Sip muttered. “I just love clarity.”

  “Are you working for Malle?” Lisabelle asked. “Is she the one pulling your strings and telling you what to do? Your daughter is a puppet as well, led around by her massive nose.” Daisy didn’t have a massive nose, but it was obvious that Lisabelle was trying to goad Ms. Vale into doing something stupid.

  “Shut up, Lisabelle,” Trafton said.

  “How about you let us go, first?” I asked, trying to keep the process going. The longer we kept her talking the more she would reveal and the less time her Fire Whips had to torment my classmates. But Ms. Vale was on to us. She had already turned her attention back to the pens of students.

  Still, I was determined to fight her. Whatever she had planned, I would battle her every step of the way. The thought gave me confidence and the motivation to keep goading her when otherwise I would have given up. I was determined that she would not win this encounter; my friends and I would not allow it. Besides, Lough was still outside the “protections” of Public, and he knew exactly where we were. When we didn’t return he would call for help. Dacer was still with Lanca, not to mention all the Rapier vampires she had at her disposal. You didn’t know fear until you stood across from Vital and tried to win.

  Ms. Vale gave me an amused smile. “You look familiar, those gray eyes. The last elemental: thank you so much for joining us at our new, improved, and re-imagined Public. You look like your mother.”

  Fury ripped through my chest and shot out my arms; any thoughts I had been entertaining of a measured and careful response to the situation were lost at the reference to my mother. I strained and pulled and yanked against the bonds that held me until they bit into my wrists and I bled. Then I yanked some more. Pain tore at my heart and I knew that my eyes were blazing. My friends stared at me, and for the first time I saw them look at me with fear. I didn’t care. I was consumed by one thing and one thing only, the necessity of ripping Ms. Vale’s heart out and stomping on it. She just stood there and continued to smile.

  Eventually my voice gave out, having accomplished nothing but my own further exhaustion. Then the muscles in my arms gave way and my legs started to wobble. Before I knew it I was sinking to the ground, my bonds still intact but my heart shattered. I crumbled into a ball and cried and I didn’t care who saw. The last thing I remembered was seeing two lovely pairs of high heels in front of my eyes, a voice murmuring for me to sleep, and then nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  “Keller,” I breathed, feeling happy. I knew my cheeks were stained with a rosy blush that matched the red rose my love held in his hands. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me and his face broke into a wide smile of pure pleasure. My hole body tingled when I looked at him. After everything we’d been through how could he still make my heart beat so wildly?

&
nbsp; The sun was shining and his arms were wrapped tightly around my waist. Mine were thrown around his shoulders and we were face to face, sitting somewhere on a warm, grassy hill. I could feel the green blades of grass tickling my feet and I smiled with pleasure. He smiled back.

  “Where are we?” I asked softly, afraid to break the perfect moment.

  “What does it matter, if we’re together?” he replied. “I was so worried I wouldn’t see you again. I was so worried we wouldn’t get back together. I couldn’t breathe without you. You are vital to me, warm when I’m cold, support when I’m about to crumble. I can’t. . . .”

  He closed his lips into a thin white line and stared, his face filled with sadness. “I miss you so much,” he finished, burying his face in my hair. I held him close. There was nothing I needed to say. Holding him close was enough.

  “Can’t we stay like this forever?” I whispered, my fingers tangled in his perfect black hair, sinking into his soft locks.

  I felt his smile against my neck. “Yes,” he said. “You and me. I just want you safe.”

  I frowned a little. There was something about his wanting me safe, something . . . I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe because a haze was rising up around us. I looked around, bewildered, as the sun was blotted out by clouds. I held on more tightly to Keller.

  “I’m sad about my mom,” I told him. I could say it to Keller. I could say anything to Keller. “And I don’t sleep as well when you’re not next to me.”

  “I know you’re sad about your mom, Heartsweet,” he murmured. I scrunched up my nose as he scrutinized my face, then he gave a joyous laugh. “Was that too much? I know Lisabelle would hate such a term of endearment, but I like to describe how I feel about you as accurately as I can. It’s just hard to find the words.”

  I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair again, enjoying touching him. Sometimes it filled me with wonder that I was the one he had chosen to allow to touch him in such a personal way.