Fluidus Rising: A YA Paranormal Novel: (The Ardere Series Book1)

by Margo Ryerkerk

  She grinned at how sweet he was.

  Sierra: I would love to.

  She hit send and shuffled into the kitchen, her throat drier than sand dunes. She gulped down a glass of water, a wave of disappointment washing over her at the realization that Gavin wouldn’t join her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Chapter 14

  Clamor crashed over Gavin. He rolled from his back to his side, dragging the blanket over his head, trying to shut the noise out. It didn’t work. Eyes half open, he reached out to the nightstand, searching for his cell. His fingers closed around the device, and he pulled it up to his face. The unlit screen made him realize the noise was coming from somewhere else. He rubbed his eyes, willing his sleep-doused senses to focus. He had to figure out where the noise came from, so that he could put an end to it.

  The door. Someone was banging on the door. Covered by his boxer briefs, he rose from his bed and schlepped his feet toward the foyer, yelling, “I’m coming.” If Olga was on the other side of the peephole, here to respond to his angry voice mail, he fully planned on filing a harassment report.

  All torpor left him when he glimpsed Jillian’s face. He pulled the deadbolt away, and she rushed at him.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve called you a dozen times. Get dressed. We need to leave now.” Her motions were jerky; her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  “What happened?”

  “I had another vision.”

  “Of whom?” Don’t let it be Sierra, please don’t let it be Sierra.

  Jillian hesitated. “It was different this time. I didn’t get a visual. I felt the intention of the killer. The supernatural is preparing to strike.”

  “Give me a second.” Gavin pulled on yesterday’s clothes and hurried out the door. He had never heard of what Jillian was describing, but then again, he hadn’t been the best student when it came to theory. Since visions were a passive ability that he didn’t have to guard against, he had never given it much thought or attention.

  He started the car and turned to Jillian. “Where to?”

  She glanced around helplessly. “Not sure, let’s drive toward Monterey Square.”

  Gavin clamped his mouth shut before he pointed out how insane this plan was and drove.

  Jillian’s fingertips pressed together above her heart, a gesture she always did when she focused. “Go more east. I think he’s at the campus.” She remained silent until they reached the university buildings. “Stop here.”

  Gavin’s thoughts circled around Sierra. Not her. It couldn’t be her. She had to be safe with Waldeburg.

  The first rays of dawn greeted them. Jillian swirled around and then darted south, Gavin on her heels. She took a right, then a left and a right again, leading him away from the lecture buildings to the dorms. “We’re getting closer.”

  She slowed, and the wrongness of an aura sliced through Gavin. It was coming from around the corner and was accompanied by an angry whisper, too low for him to make out the words. Before he could give instructions, Jillian was already moving.

  “Let her go!” Jillian yelled at the man, who was suffocating the young woman.

  The killer dropped the girl and took off immediately, the lack of sunlight and his hood protecting his features. Strangely, he had no aura. The girl sank to the ground. Her body shook as sobs erupted from her chest. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her blonde hair looked like a bird’s nest. When she looked up, Gavin gasped.

  “Whitney? Are you all right?” Jillian kneeled next to Whitney. Gavin snapped out of his stupefaction. The killer. Gavin couldn’t let him escape.

  The combination of the head start and lack of supernatural aura led to Gavin losing the culprit in a residential street. The madman could’ve picked any of the buildings to hide in—but only one of them had music blasting from it. A house party, the perfect refuge.

  Gavin ripped the front door open and stepped inside. A few kids gave him curious glances as they passed around a joint, but no one obstructed his passage. He checked every room to no avail. The killer was gone. Gavin had lost him. Damn it!

  Gritting his teeth, he stormed out of the house. He returned to Jillian and Whitney, on whom he would have to rely for information. Slumped on the ground, her head lulling side to side, Whitney mumbled incoherently.

  The situation was deteriorating by the minute. First, the killer escaped without them seeing his face, and now they had to put their trust in a drunken witness. Hope of Whitney providing them with a detailed account faded fast.

  “Let’s bring her back to my apartment,” Jillian suggested. Gavin swept the perimeter one last time before he heaved up the girl and carried her to the car.

  “We’ll need to sober her up.” He turned on the engine. “What exactly did you see in your vision?” After questioning Whitney, he would have to delete her mind of tonight’s events, so he might as well talk freely.

  “I woke up around five thirty. I didn’t get the visual of the killer. I only felt his rage. I hurried over to your place.”

  “I didn’t see his aura. Did you?”

  Jillian shook her head. “No, but he has to be a supernatural, otherwise I wouldn’t have had a vision of him.”

  Gavin chewed on this. Jillian was right; Guardians never had premonitions or vision about mere humans. Still, if the killer was a supernatural, why hadn’t they seen his aura? “Aura obliteration potion.”

  Relief washed across Jillian’s features. “That would explain it.” Her forehead crinkled. “But only a handful of Guardians specialize in potions. And an aura obliteration potion takes a month to be brewed. When it’s ready, it needs to be consumed within twenty-four hours.”

  Gavin processed this. Specific Ardere skills like this were classified. He would have to officially request access to the information. It could take days to receive approval.

  “What I’m wondering is, why I was able to sense the killer’s intent at all.” Jillian scrunched up her nose. “I’m not sure if I could even receive a vision from an individual that took an aura obliteration potion. I would expect it to block the connection.” Jillian took out her phone and typed away. “I’ll check in the database.” She paused. “What if the potion was faulty, and that allowed me to receive visions? An Umbra Guardian could’ve sold the killer a poor-quality product.”

  Gavin sighed. He didn’t like this. If the killer indeed had purchased the potion from the black market, tracking him had just become so much harder. It put Gavin back to square one. Or did it? The killer buying a cheap obliteration potion could mean he had no connections and little money, which made him more likely, but not necessarily, an Umbra.

  To find a clue, Gavin began mentally dissecting Whitney’s attack, searching for commonalities with Finn’s. There were none. Finn—a shy Ardere male. Whitney—a bubbly human female. The only commonality was Gio. He had been Finn’s friend, and he was interested in Whitney. But no, it couldn’t be Gio—even in the dark, Gavin knew the fleeing perpetrator looked nothing like Gio.

  Gavin relaxed briefly before a cumbersome thought boxed its way into his mind.

  Why go to great lengths to obtain an obliteration potion while attacking victims in public spaces? Finn’s body had been left behind for everyone to see, and Gavin’s gut told him the killer wouldn’t have cleaned up after Whitney either. The inconsistency was another hint that they were dealing with a madman.

  Gavin parked the car and helped Whitney up the staircase, into Jillian’s second-floor apartment, and onto her verdant living room couch. Whitney stooped over and leaned her elbows on her knees. Jillian brought her a double shot of espresso and a glass of water.

  “Come with me.” Jillian tugged on Gavin’s sleeve, and he reluctantly followed her to the kitchen.

  “I need to question her.”

  “You need to give Whitney a few minutes. She’s been through a lot.”

  “Fine.” Gavin didn’t want to make this more stressful for Whitney, yet the longer he waited, the more time he w
ould have to delete from her memory. Deleting short bursts of memory posed no problem to humans. Deleting longer chunks could make them feel insecure and paranoid. They could sense the wrongness in their recollection of previous events, making them worry they suffered from anything like blackouts to brain tumors. That’s why in the case of Sierra’s classmates, a highly specialized Charmer had been sent to erase the memories of her.

  “Whitney and Finn. They’re as different as night and day,” Jillian said slowly. “Why would one killer choose them both as his victims.”

  “Are you suggesting there could be two killers?”

  She shook his head. “Two killers in a city that hasn’t seen a crime in the last twenty years? Very unlikely.”

  “I agree.”

  Jillian opened a flat-panel cabinet and grabbed a box. The kitchen was small but tidy and had all the essentials—microwave, oven, water boiler, and most importantly, in Gavin’s opinion, an espresso machine.

  “Has Whitney acted strange in the last few days or talked to a foreigner?” Jillian laid a variety of cookies out on a plate.

  “No. Olga, however, did stop by.”

  Jillian sighed. “You said Louis was angry about your refusal to bring Sierra. Angry enough to cause mayhem in your city by killing innocent ones?”

  Gavin shook his head. “Not his style.” This exchange felt like an eerie déjà vu of his conversation with Waldeburg. What did it mean that both Guardians suspected Louis? Was Gavin misjudging how far the ruler would go and the methods he would employ?

  Back in the living room, Jillian and Gavin sat down opposite Whitney, who didn’t touch the cookies. She did however straighten, appearing more sober than beforehand.

  “Whitney, it’s very important you tell us everything you remember about who attacked you. Don’t leave out any details,” Gavin said, infusing his voice with authority.

  “I…don’t we need to report this to the police?”

  He took Whitney’s hand into his and gazed deeply into her eyes. He would’ve done it earlier, but Jillian had been adamant, insisting they tried the conventional way first, since Whitney had been through so much already. “Whitney, you will tell us everything about the attack. You will try your very best to remember as much as you can.” Next to him, Jillian shifted in her chair, uncomfortable as always with mind manipulation and erasing. Whitney nodded, her eyes glazing over. Gavin continued. “What did the man look like?”

  “I don’t know. I never saw his face. My friends and I were at this house party. It was great. Lots of booze and weed. I was chatting with a girl from my yoga class, and my phone kept vibrating. My mom was trying to reach me. She works as a nurse, so she tends to call at random hours. First, I ignored her. Finally, I decided to call her back. I didn’t want her to freak out and call the cops or something. I bitched to my friends about having to always check in with her.”

  Whitney swallowed hard and continued in a trembling voice. “I went outside the house, like only a few steps away. I called my mom. I was pretty drunk. She asked if I was okay. I said yes and told her I was out with friends, you know, hoping she would get the hint I was busy, but she kept bombarding me with questions. ‘Did you study for this and that exam? What about the paper that was due? You’re not drinking too much, are you?’ By the time I hung up, I was really annoyed. That’s when I felt someone behind me. He was really close. No one else was on the street. It was just the two of us.”

  Tears filled Whitney’s eyes, and Jillian grabbed a pack of tissues. “He said what I did wasn’t very nice. I thought he was being flirty, and I said something about me being a bad girl. I wanted to turn around, but he stopped me. Took me by the waist and walked me away from the house, from everyone. I thought he was being playful, but then his voice changed. He began to threaten me.”

  Whitney shook her head in a quick motion. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “He said I was really ungrateful, that I was a little ungrateful bitch. He called me names—whore, slut. Said I was useless. Said I should be grateful for my mother.” Whitney sobbed. “Said my mother deserved a better daughter than me, that he was sorry he couldn’t give her a better one.”

  By now, Whitney was quivering uncontrollably. She crossed her legs and brought her hand up to her mouth, biting her fingernails. Jillian reached out, as if she wanted to hug Whitney, but Gavin firmly shook his head. Not yet. First, they needed to hear the whole account.

  “Then he said there was something he could do for my mother. He could free her from me, make sure I wouldn’t bring any more shame on her. All he needed to do was kill me to free my mother from her misery. He said he would do it after he had his fun with me. I begged him not to. He didn’t listen. He told me to kneel. Repeatedly. When I didn’t, he put both of his hands on my throat, and I couldn’t even scream. I thought I was going to die…”

  Gavin pushed aside the horror of the story, analyzing the behavior of the killer, not that he thought there was any logic to it. The murderer was deranged. Gavin refocused on Whitney. “Did he say anything else?” She shook her head. “You didn’t see his face, but can you remember anything about the way he looked? Or his voice?”

  “I was pretty drunk. I don’t really remember his voice. The whole time, he stood behind me. I never saw his face. He was a bit taller than me. I’m five foot six, and I was wearing flats today. So, I guess his height was average and so was his body shape. When he pressed my back into him”—she rubbed the goose bumps on her arms—“he wasn’t overweight or muscular, just regular.”

  Gavin released a breath. Definitely not Gio. “Thank you, Whitney.” He took her hands in his and gazed deep into her eyes. “You will have no recollection of the attack or talking to us. All you did today was go out to a friend’s house party. You had a couple of drinks, and it was an uneventful night.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. The three of them walked downstairs, and they drove Whitney home. Once they made sure she was safely inside, they headed back to Jillian’s. They might not have seen the killer’s features, but he had seen theirs, and Gavin wanted to at least walk Jillian to her front door.

  “So, we’re looking for a young man, most likely a student, of average height and built. That’s something.”

  Gavin snorted at her false optimism. They hadn’t made any progress tonight. Jillian was kidding herself if she thought otherwise.

  “We also know he’s impulsive. He has killed in the city center and attacked Whitney outside a house filled with students. Clearly, he has no restraint when he goes into killing mode. Do you think he picked Whitney by chance?” When Gavin didn’t reply, Jillian answered her own question. “I think Whitney’s behavior toward her mom triggered him.”

  Gavin considered Jillian’s theory. “What about Finn?”

  Jillian sighed. “I’ll double check, but I’m pretty sure he had a good relationship with his parents. Still, I feel like there’s something to the whole mommy issue.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but my gut tells me his mother plays an important role. Maybe something happened and that’s how our killer was triggered.”

  “Like?”

  “A traumatic event.”

  Silently, Gavin followed Jillian up the stairs. No Ardere database stored information on traumatic events. He would have to go through each individual’s history, which wasn’t viable. “I think we should look into Guardians in the South who can make an aura obliteration potion.”

  Jillian unlocked the door. “I’ll get on it, and I’ll take a closer look at Finn’s relationship with his parents.” Soberly, she added, “We need to find the bastard before he strikes again.”

  Gavin couldn’t agree more. The killer had attacked twice in one week. They didn’t have much time. Gavin’s posture hardened. Justice needed to be served before another innocent died.

  Chapter 15

  Jillian handed Gavin a cup of freshly brewed coffee. “It’ll take a minute to boot up.” She typed the password into her computer and rose
from her green armchair. He watched as she watered the mini bamboos on the bookshelf. With it being the summer and not even nine in the morning, the campus stood fairly empty. A flash of red color caught Gavin’s attention. An aura. He leaned against the windowsill.

  Gio, in a too tight V-neck, swaggered across the campus, twirling his car keys on his index finger. His gelled, dark hair glared in the sun. How odd for him to be up before noon. And what was he doing on campus? If it had been the middle of the night and he was sneaking into a college party, that would make sense, but nine in the morning? No way.

  “What’s Gio doing here?” Jillian crossed her arms.

  “Don’t know. Was about to ask you the same thing.”

  Gio took the corner, disappearing from view, and Jillian returned to her computer. “I would imagine student bars and dorm rooms are more his terrain.”

  “He does have a thing for inebriated girls,” Gavin said, more to himself than to Jillian.

  “Let’s get back to this.” She fidgeted with the mouse, pulling up a chart with Finn and Whitney’s details on the computer screen. “I’ll go through the files of all the Guardians in the South and contact them, posing as a client to see who makes and sells aura obliteration potions. This should take a few days. In the meantime, I dug deeper into Finn’s background to see whether there was tension with his parents.”

  Gavin stared at the countless happy family photos. “There isn’t. Finn doesn’t fit the profile.”

  “No, he doesn’t. His family was proud of him, and he looked up to them. He was the perfect kid.”

  “No victim-choosing pattern.”

  “There’s also no pattern to the killing method. From what Whitney told us, it sounded like the killer was about to strangle her.”

  “Finn had no marks on his neck. He died from the stab wound.” It was unlikely that Savannah had abruptly attracted two killers, yet Gavin couldn’t deny that the attempted and the executed homicide had nothing in common.