Elemental Fate (Paranormal Public Book 12) (22 page)

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Authors: Maddy Edwards

BOOK: Elemental Fate (Paranormal Public Book 12)

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And then, there it was! Sticking up so that only the rim was within reach, the rest of the object having been buried in the muck of the bottom, was what looked suspiciously like a mug.

Quickly I started to dig, using my fingernails and tugging at the mug in my rush to get it out of the water. Victorious, I seized it and raced upward, desperately needing air.

“Eighellie, I found it!” I cried triumphantly. “Eighellie?”

It was only when I blinked the water out of my eyes that I saw why my friend was silent. Standing next to her with a stern look on his face was the protocols officer, Fallgrabber.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said.

I didn’t suppose he would believe I was taking a night dip.

“I thought I lost something in the pond . . . a few days ago . . . came to look for it,” I said, starting to shiver. Eighellie rolled her eyes as if lamenting what a bad liar I was.

“Did you find it?” Fallgrabber asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Um, no,” I said. I kept my hand in the water. We both knew why. Fallgrabber looked hard at me.

For what felt like an eternity, the three of us just stood there. The night was silent, cold, and lonely, as if we three were alone in the world.

“You shouldn’t be out late at night,” he said quietly. “Return to your dorms at once.”

Eighellie’s eyes widened behind Fallgrabber. It almost sounded like we weren’t going to get into trouble, and neither of us could quite believe it. But it was true. With one more menacing glance, the protocols officer turned on his heel and walked away.

We stood looking at each other as I shivered.

I brought the dirty old mug back with me to Astra. I was freezing, but something inside me, a tiny flame buried deep down, had started to warm my bones. I knew that flame was excitement about what I had just done.

The Processional for Sip was two days away, and I wouldn’t have much time before then to examine the mug and try to explore its powers. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to, so instead of tackling the task right away I took the mug and placed it in the large freezer in the Astra kitchen, where it should be safe until I had time to look at it properly.

I wondered what the freezer was used for; it certainly wasn’t needed for the sake of feeding Astra’s one resident. Plus there was Fallgrabber’s behavior to puzzle over, Twice he had declined to get us into trouble when he’d had the chance. It was almost like he was keeping an eye on us, maybe even protecting us, but from whom? And who had told him to do it?

I took a quick shower and crawled into bed that night wondering how I would ever get through the next two days.

The Processional was ridiculous and stupid and not like Sip at all. There was not one neon thing to be seen anywhere.

I never wanted to see anything like it ever again in my life. For one thing, I didn’t realize that certain paranormals were treating it as a chance to show off Paranormal Public until it was actually happening. Even stranger, Dobrov was nowhere to be seen. His absence actually gave me comfort, since I interpreted it as a refusal to accept the situation.

All I ended up doing was watching a bunch of government officials move past us in a long line, all dressed in fine robes. I left before Sip’s casket was brought through. Although I hadn’t had the dream of Sip dying this semester, the reality was bound to be worse.

Every other paranormal I had ever heard of seemed to be there. I mean, not the ones who were on the run, like Risper, and not Dacer, who was still so blindly furious with the fallen angels for what they had done to his party that except for Keller he might never come near any of them again. Worst of all, the Processional was far too fancy for my taste. I watched it all fly by and wondered how I had made so little progress on what Lough had asked me to do. Sure I’d been busy, but the semester was ending and I had gotten nowhere, unless you counted finding the mug. I hadn’t gotten any further even with that, though.

I wondered about Lough often. He had clearly risked a lot in coming to see me, although what the specific shape of the risk was I still had no idea.

I wondered if he had read the Death Notice. I hoped he had gone to Lisabelle after he had.

“Ricky, hi,” Averett said, interrupting my thought train and floating up next to me. She was wearing a shirt with sleeves for once, decorated with black jewels on the collars and cuffs. Her hair was pulled up in a severe style. She looked both stunning and intimidating.

“Hi,” I said. “What do you think?”

Averett rolled her eyes. “You really have to ask? This is a load of crap, dragging us all out here pretending everything is fine. It’s just so they can hold a special election and replace Sip as quickly as possible. Once she’s replaced, they’ll go to war with darkness again. Lanca has already been fielding calls about whether the Rapiers would support or hinder such an endeavor.”

I still felt sick to my stomach.

“What do you think she’ll do?” I said.

Averett shook her head. “Darkness fighting darkness would be foolish, but Lanca’s really angry about this dream giver you’re all friends with. I don’t know where she thinks he is, but whatever she thinks Lisabelle has him doing, it’s bad.”

I didn’t trust myself to respond, so I didn’t.

“You think she might go to war?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just her husband’s little cousin. She might not, but then again, she might.”

I took a deep breath. Everything felt like it was changing too fast, and not for the better.

Epilogue

That night I tossed and turned. Although everything was settled for the semester and I had the first object on the Counter Wheel in my possession, I still hadn’t heard from the special trio of Sip, Lisabelle, and Charlotte. I didn’t even know if Sip was still alive, and being left in ignorance about that was killing me. Despite all the worries, I finally went to sleep knowing that in the morning I would head to Duckleworth for a couple of weeks before returning to Public for the summer. I didn’t want to be away from Astra for long, not with so much happening. My summer project was to help map the grounds, but really I was hoping to find the plaque Sigil had talked about way back over winter break so that I could learn more about my essence. I also, of course, intended to continue trying to fulfill Lough’s request that I find the other objects on the Counter Wheel.

At some point before the Processional I had reached the clear conclusion that Sip couldn’t be dead. I steadfastly refused to believe it, and I now, as I tried to fall asleep, I promised myself to maintain that attitude until the end of time. Once I had that decision out of the way, it was off to dreamland.

Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.

The creepy militia man who I now knew was named Hammock had been arrested for Ms. Cernal’s murder but had adamantly professed his innocence. His desperation had made no impression on the paranormal courts.

In my dream I saw the fast-becoming-familiar face of the vampire with the black beard. He was pale, and his dark eyes protruded strangely from his thin face. He was sitting in a fancy room that was decked out in dark wood and heavy black draperies. The plush chair he sat in was upholstered with a thick, expensive-looking fabric. Everything around him spoke of privilege and money beyond the wildest dreams of most paranormals. At first I thought he was alone in this fancy room, but then a woman’s voice spoke up.

My dream panned around to look at Ms. Cernal, who was sitting primly on an uncomfortable-looking sofa with her delicate hands in her lap. Her tight dress was even tighter when she was sitting. She was fluttering with excitement.

“Do you really think Sipythia Quest is dead?” she demanded. “Such fun if she is.”

The vampire didn’t look nearly as amused. “Only time will tell, but I believe the darkness premier will sooner die herself than let anything happen to Sip Quest.” He picked up an object on the side table next to him and started to turn it over and over in his hands. It was a copper-colored coin, larger than average, but I couldn’t make out the design on it.

“But there was a funeral,” the murdered Ms. Cernal pouted.

“So?” he asked, his voice gentle but his eyes hard. “You don’t think funerals can be faked? No one saw the body except trusted connections of Sip’s, therefore, no one saw the body.”

Ms. Cernal scoffed at the vampire, who continued to sit placidly in his massive chair while she grew more agitated. She clearly thought he was an idiot to believe that Sip might still be alive.

“I just slashed her really thoroughly, though,” she muttered. “I, like, surprised her. She didn’t know who I was, because she’s never bothered to come with that slithering sack of pathetic paranormality known as Bertrum to the TP office. I know I wasn’t supposed to attack her, but she caught me looking for the Counter Wheel and I just . . . I just took matters into my own hands, you know? I made my own decisions. Do you think the boss will be angry? I did what I had to AND I got one of the most powerful paranormals in the world out of the way and he didn’t even have to do anything! It was really easy to convince Bertrum to start the TP program. I’m only sorry we couldn’t keep it going. It made getting onto campus so much easier. I called him Berty and he would flush.” She rolled her eyes, clearly trying to impress the vampire, whose face remained impassive.

“When Luther was arrested, it distracted them from searching for other offenders. Leaving those TPs out for him was so easy. I only wanted to get one of the students framed, maybe that silly tree sprite, but I didn’t have enough time. They showed up too early, and since he became friends with that elemental he’s been watched too closely.”

The vampire continued to flip the coin, watching it roll over and over in his hands. He was listening, but with the sort of expression that said he already knew the outcome of the conversation.

Eventually Ms. Cernal got up and busied herself making a cup of tea, muttering about how the vampire hadn’t offered her any after all the hard work she had done. She was like a child.

“It’s so nice here,” she said, glancing sideways again at the vampire. “Do you think the boss will let me have a little time off after everything I’ve done?”

The vampire closed his eyes briefly. “I think the boss will certainly want a word with you after everything you’ve done.”

“Anyway,” she started again, but then the vampire moved. He moved so fast I didn’t even see him move. She was standing in front of the sofa, mid-turn, about to sit down, when the vampire was on her. He grabbed her neck and her teacup went splattering to the floor.

“You failed,” he hissed. “You triggered an investigation into what happened to Sip instead of adequately finding a scapegoat. No one believed that Luther slashed her, nor Bertrum either. You did nothing to deflect suspicion from us and yet you had the gall to return, after foolishly faking your own death! You think framing Cutter will deflect suspicion from where it belongs? At this point only one thing will.” His fingers tightened around her.

She was choking and flailing at his hand, and blood was starting to flood freely down his arm and beneath her nails. It was clear how this was going to end – and soon.

A door opened and I heard the sound of heavy footsteps, then a thick voice spoke. “Don’t kill her,” Lough said, stepping into the light and pulling back his hood.

The vampire squeezed his hand around Ms. Cernal’s slender neck for another second and then released her. She collapsed back onto the sofa in a fit of coughing.

“Yes, boss,” said the vampire.

The End

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