Elemental Omen (Paranormal Public Book 10) (3 page)

Her lack of an answer was all I needed.

Suddenly there was a crash, and the whole building shuddered. Greta gave a cry and crouched down. I didn’t have time to think, just to react.

They had come for me.

Forgetting the sandwich, I raced to my secret place, a loose board in the wall. I yanked it free and pulled out my emergency satchel. It held everything of importance, everything I needed to run.

Another crash sent me tumbling against the wall. I slung the satchel over my shoulder. The rain was coming down harder, if that was even possible.

I realized quickly as I prepared to leave that spending months preparing for this attack and actually experiencing it were two different things. My senses felt heightened and my body went from hot to cold and back again. I felt that if I stopped moving, I would stay still and petrified forever. So I didn’t stop.

“Joice,” my friend cried from where she was still crouched on the floor. “Joice! You can’t leave me here!”

Then she screamed and sprang to her feet. One last massive boom shook the tower so badly I was afraid it would fall into the river. Then again, that might have been preferable; I’d like to see them fight me in the river.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Greta was crawling toward me as the building shook itself apart. The next tremor sent debris from the room crashing down on us, and the one after that shattered the glass facing the water. Rain pelted in and instantly everything was soaked.

Greta was sobbing. Scrambling, I raced to her and hauled her to her feet. Her body trembled under my fingers. She stared at me.

“I’m sorry,” she moaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to smile for her benefit. It was too late for regrets now.

She nodded numbly.

“On second thought, I think we should both jump,” I said, nodding to the window.

“Hells bells and no freaking way,” Greta gasped as she stared at the open hole in the wall, which was surrounded by broken glass.

“It’s the only way,” I told her.

She shook her head.

“Greta,” I said, “you can’t stay here. What’s coming for me . . . it won’t leave you alone.”

“I can handle it,” she said, her teeth chattering. I heard more thunder, but this was different. I cocked my head sideways.

“Is that the stairs?” she whispered.

“Probably,” I said.

It wasn’t. What was coming for me could probably fly, but anything to get her in motion.

“Jumping into the river will kill us,” she said. “Like, dead.”

I doubt it,” I said dryly. “Come on.” I hauled her to the edge of the room, not wasting any more time. I checked the sky - what I could see of it - for anything in the air. As far as I could see or sense, it was all clear.

I closed my eyes and sank into my magic. The water was stormy, but it greeted me eagerly. For the river, this was something new and interesting, a battle of the elements.

I pulled Greta to the edge and she screamed. Freezing water and icy wind lashed her face and arms. My body wasn’t cold, but I was used to this. I called the water. The magical connection I had with it was always alive. To strengthen the process, I breathed in the cold air and sent it back in a powerful gust. I ordered the wind to raise the water, to bring it to me. My cover as an itinerant mysterious non-mage no longer mattered; Greta had told them I was there.

The storm had broken into an all-out gale. The sky was black, despite the fact that it was daytime. The water had started to rise.

Greta was screaming and screaming. Breaking my concentration for a split second, I turned to her and said, “This is good. Shut up.” She shut up, her eyes wide and staring at me. I returned my attention to the river.

Just as the water had started to reach us, rising into the air like a massive spout, I felt it start to fight me, dragging back downward as if another force was pulling it away. I fought to keep control, but it started to break.

“Now!” I cried.

Just as I braced to jump, I heard a crack behind us that made both of us spin around in justified fear: standing in the doorway was a group of paranormals, proof positive that my cover was blown.

I knew they were paranormals because two were pixies, a couple were Paranormal Strange, and several were vampires. At the sight of them, Greta slammed into my side and clutched hard, while I just stared at them for a moment, then turned back to the river.

“Jump!” I yelled to Greta. “Jump now!”

“What are you?” Greta screamed at me. She pointed a trembling hand to the water, and then looked back at the paranormals. “What sort of drug is this?” she whispered, so low that I could barely hear her. I wished this was a drug we could wake up from, but it was far worse. It was a nightmare I’d been living for years. And it was finally at my door.

Greta sobbed, and I felt the paranormals behind us start to come forward. Just as I was about to push her to safety, one of the paranormals fired a bolt of pure power out of his ring.

I hadn’t had time yet to put up a magical shield behind us, because I’d been too busy calling the river. And now it was too late. I felt my magic move to stop the attack, but it didn’t move to cover Greta, because it didn’t know I cared about her. Instead, it moved to save me.

The first bolt missed, but a second and a third followed, and I wasn’t fast enough. Greta, who was still at my side, gave one last cry as the third bolt of pure death struck her in the side. Suddenly her body, pressed hard against mine, went rigid, her grip on my shoulder froze, her screaming ceased, and I felt the life leave my friend.

Pain like I had never known before shot through me. I told myself that some of the bolt had hit me as well, and that it was a physical pain. But deep down I knew that wasn’t true.

With one last strangled gasp I looked at the oncoming paranormals, and my eyes locked on the one who was nearest. A pixie. He had glittering black eyes and a horn through his nose, and he was just dropping his arm from firing the shot that had killed Greta. Before I could attack or say a word in response, one of the vampires fired another shot and Greta and I fell into the waiting river.

Enveloped by freezing, rushing water, I lost my grip on Greta and watched as her body was carried away from me. Before she left me forever I had one last glimpse of her face; her skin was pale and her eyes were wide and staring. A sense of failure unlike anything I had ever felt before overtook me with a beating pain that drummed behind me eyes. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breath, all I knew was that I’d made a friend and she had died. The horn-nosed pixie had killed her.

But I wasn’t out of danger myself, so I forced my thoughts back to the needs of the moment. With the feeling of danger still increasing, I yanked the river back down and felt it settle as the air that was holding it up rushed away, taking with it a powerful wind tunnel that would blast through the slums.

In that moment I hated everyone and everything, but I especially hated the paranormals who wouldn’t leave me the hell alone.

I glanced up at the window of my recent and former dwelling. The hunters were staring out at me, and we watched each other as the rushing river carried me off. Finally I looked away, spread my arms out wide, closed my eyes, and tried to let the cold water numb my pain.

The river carried me out of town. Debris from the massive magical storm - tree logs, boards, bikes - was of no matter; the water shoved them all away from me, and anyhow, I was too lost in grief to care.

A pain pounded at my temples. I should never have come around people, I should never have made a friend. It was my fault that Greta was dead. She hadn’t known anything about it.

Finally, once again telling myself I had to focus on the present, I took several big gulps of air. There were fish all around keeping vigil, but I wasn’t sure what that meant because I had never learned anything about aquatic life. I had always told my sister I didn’t care, and despite her best efforts I had steadfastly refused to study the topic. But the fish seemed to find my presence calming, which was funny since it was because of me that there was this big mess to begin with.

And Greta was dead.

I swirled my ring hand in the water and ordered the river to wash me ashore. It dumped me none too gently on the nearest bank, where I collided with a pile of dirt and rock and had to use my hands to break my impact. The metal from my ring pressed into my flesh and I flinched.

It was now early evening, and the blanket of darkness was falling. The river was the perfect form of getaway since it left no trail, magical or otherwise. I had gripped my satchel for dear life, and luckily, despite the bumpy ride, I still had it.

If I had been better with magic, this never would have happened.

If I had taken the time to learn about proper defenses, this never would have happened.

That’s what my sister would tell me.

But I hadn’t.

I had been too busy running away.

I had been too busy avoiding the hunters.

I could take care of myself, and I had promised myself that I wouldn’t have to take care of anyone else.

See how well that had worked for me.

I coughed and water came up. I glanced back at the fishes and whispered a thanks, even though they couldn’t understand me. Then I slogged my way off the bank and looked around to see if I could figure out where I was, because I had no idea. I could have used magic, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I made for a small clump of trees that stuck out on the otherwise barren landscape. There was no one else within sight, there was barely any grass or shrubbery, it was as if even nature had deserted this barren place. All I could think of, over and over, was that Greta was dead. Sometimes knowing was worse than not, sometimes seeing was worse than not. I had promised myself when I left that I would not witness any more death, and here it had come again. Because of me.

It took me a really long time to walk to the trees. I kept stumbling, even over the barren ground, and my legs felt so heavy I wasn’t sure how long I could keep going.

When I finally reached the meager shelter of the little grove I lay down, still sopping wet. It wasn’t as if I could use a fire to dry off, although I wished I could, because out of the sun I was shivering, and the wind, instead of drying off my clothes, just made me feel colder.

I curled up under the nearest tree and closed my eyes.

A pair of muddy brown eyes, wide and staring, looked back at me.

My eyes snapped open and I nearly cried.

There was obviously no way I was going to fall asleep, so instead I resolved to keep my eyes open and watch the river rush past. But even with my eyes open, my sadness and pain only grew heavier as the minutes wore on. I couldn’t get Greta’s eyes out of my head, and though I kept trying to think of something else, no matter where I turned my thoughts I could still feel her dead grip on my arm and hear her screams.

Time went on and the suffocating sadness settled around me.

Minutes or hours later, I could hardly tell, a twig snapped and the wind started to blow harder. I rustled myself awake enough to glance around and make sure I was still alone.

A deer lurked nearby, but that was all. The deer was munching happily on the scrubby apples of a nearby tree, and beyond a look that said “Take my apple and die,” we didn’t bother or acknowledge each other.

Reassured that there were no enemies nearby, I laid my head back against the tree trunk and closed my eyes.

Greta’s eyes were there again, but this time I kept mine closed, determined not to flinch away. I thought of the horn-nosed pixie who had killed her. There were good ways to kill a pixie and better ways to kill a pixie. I imagined it dying at the hand of my ring.

Then my memories went further back . . .

~~~

Everything happened quickly after the Nocturn War. My sister Charlotte was so busy, I barely got to see her. I was well taken care of, but I needed my family. Unfortunately, my family numbered one, and the entire paranormal world needed her. She would check in on me when she could, but that wasn’t often. I found myself spending most of my time with Lough.

“Dream givers,” he shook his head, “are not sought after. Ever.” He smiled ruefully. We were sitting in Astra, in one of the little-used sitting rooms. This one’s theme was Earth, so pretty much everything in it was brown and cozy. I found that I got queasy when I spent too much time in the fire lounge.

“Why is that?” I asked. Lough was easy to be around in a way that the others weren’t. When I got older and was wandering around by myself, I realized it was probably easier because he was a guy. But at the time I just really liked him.

“Well, they think our magic is foo foo,” said Lough. “Not your sister, mind, but a lot of paranormals. Sure, we can dream stuff into realty, and on a really good day we can dream into the future, but for the most part neither of those things are desired.”

“I can’t imagine who wouldn’t want to see their future,” I said. “I sure would.”

Lough gave me a sharp look. “Really? But then what’s the point? Besides, you would probably try to change it.”

“Of course I would,” I said stoutly. “Why would I want to see it otherwise?”

Lough chuckled. “You have me there.”

“If Charlotte had told me what was going on, I could have helped sooner,” I said, thinking back to the mass hysteria. I had been really angry when she had gone off with her friends without me. She wanted me to stay safe, I knew that, but I also felt like she was blind to the fact that nowhere was safe. I wasn’t safe and neither was she. We needed more elementals to fight the war, but two would have to do.

“How’s your magic?” Lough asked.

I shrugged and looked down. Lough asked again and this time I told him. “It’s non-existent,” I whispered.

“You can only do so much,” said Lough. “Your body needs to rest. It had rather a shock, after all. I can’t believe you did what you did. The entire paranormal world is grateful.”

“I’m sure they are,” I muttered. I didn’t care about them, and I wasn’t sure I should live among them at all. For Charlotte and Lough this was clearly their home, and these were their people. But I didn’t know where I belonged. If I could only talk to Charlotte, I thought, I might be able to figure it out.

“Want something to eat?” Lough asked. I shook my head. “It might help you get your strength back,” he added. I shook my head again.

That was another thing. I’d felt a little sick to my stomach ever since the battle ended. I knew it wasn’t from loss of magic, though. It was from witnessing all the dead bodies.

“This is a journey,” said Lough when he got back from the kitchen. He had two massive plates of food with him, one of which he set down in front of me. “You might as well be well fed while you go through it.”

I laughed a little bit. “Maybe it’s better than being bored?” I said.

“Oh, no, being bored is great,” said Lough, gently strumming an air guitar as he sat back and pretended to be relaxed. “But not if your friends need your help.”

“I’m just glad it’s over now,” I said.

I dug in. The food from the Astra kitchen was ridiculously good. Martha liked to bake, and she now cooked in our kitchen so she didn’t have to talk to paranormals. Also, the attack on Public had driven her a little crazy, so we pretty much avoided the kitchen at all costs except when we needed food. Which is to say, Lough barely avoided it at all.

Lough took the plates away when we were finished, and when he came back he said, “So, do you have questions?”

“What happens now?” I said.

“All the bodies have to be buried, that is, claimed by family and taken care of,” said Lough thoughtfully. He must have seen me flinch because he said, “I didn’t want to sugar coat anything for you.”

A gentle knock sounded on the door and a young paranormal peered in.

“Mr. Lough, someone wants to see you in Airlee,” said the youth. He was barely younger than I was, with a pale face and a flop of red hair. Lough sighed and stood up. “It can’t be that important. I’m a dream giver, after all, and a second tier one at that.”

“Because everyone wants to talk to Trafton?” I asked without thinking. Lough rolled his eyes. He was not a fan of Trafton.

“I’m sure it’s just because I’m leaving,” said Lough. The stout dream giver was going with Lisabelle to the darkness holes when she left. He was at ease about it, but no one else was.

The light started to fade from the sitting room after Lough left, but I didn’t move, I just sat there in the gathering darkness. If I had been at home I would have played video games or gone for a stroll and found a few friends to play baseball with, but I didn’t want to play video games here. In fact, I didn’t want to do anything that made me feel normal. I wasn’t normal, and nothing in my world would ever be normal again.

I was just about to go upstairs to shower when the door opened again. I was about to tell Lough I was too tired to keep talking, but it wasn’t Lough who came in. At first I didn't recognize the hard paranormal who walked through the door, but it was hard to miss the insignia on his shirt or the colorful stripes on his shoulders.

“General Goffer,” I said. I knew I looked surprised. “Charlotte isn’t here.”

General Goffer smiled and for the first time I understood what someone meant when they said that a smile didn’t reach a person’s eyes.

“Charlotte?” Goffer looked surprised for a moment but recovered quickly. “Sure, no, sure she isn’t. She’s been keeping very busy, hasn’t she?”

“Organizations have been keeping her busy,” I said. “It’s not all her doing.”

Goffer chuckled as he sat down and beamed at me. “Of course.” He sighed and looked around the sitting room. “I always thought the elementals were the coolest paranormals,” he said. “I mean, look at everything you can do. Look at everything you have.”

“Darkness must have thought we were pretty cool too,” I said, “so cool they destroyed us all.”

General Goffer didn’t lose the slightly amused expression he was wearing. “Of course all of that loss of life was tragic. Nothing else for it than to keep moving forward, though.”

I nodded and waited. He wanted something. The head of the paranormal police didn’t come to chat with teenagers right after the end of an epic war in which the president of the paranormals, who also happened to be his cousin, was killed. I braced myself. I would not tell him anything about Charlotte or her friends. He would probably start fishing any minute and I just wasn’t going to do it.

“Well, I’m glad Charlotte’s happy,” said Goffer as if he didn’t really care at all.

I didn’t think I had said anything that suggested that Charlotte was happy. Come to think of it, I had no idea if Charlotte was happy or not. As Lough had pointed out, the only thing that mattered was whether your friends needed you. If they did, personal feelings were set aside.