Elemental Omen (Paranormal Public Book 10)

by Maddy Edwards

  “Lisabelle was just catching me up on the trip, and Sip was saying how she had left Bertrum in charge. It’s all so fascinating.”

  “He was overrun before we had flown out of view, I’m sure,” Lisabelle muttered.

  “Lisabelle is not a fan of Sip’s assistant,” said Professor Dacer, quirking an eyebrow at me and smiling. This was old news, since neither of them seemed to understand the other in the slightest, much to the bewilderment of both of them.

  “So you brought me back for Camilla’s trial,” I said. I was fishing, because no matter how hard I fought it, I was curious to know what I was doing there. “I never knew the pixie.” I had always heard the most mesmerizing stories from Sip, Lisabelle, and Charlotte about the crazy pixie they had gone to school with, the one who had dated Cale, an old crush of Charlotte’s from home. I liked Cale. He was cool when I was growing up, and after the Nocturn War Charlotte had revealed that it was Cale who had made sure I was kept safe, and that it had not been an easy task.

  “Not really,” said Sip. “We brought you back for much more pressing matters, because we missed your spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “We like your spaghetti and meatballs so much we just had to get you to make them, and you can’t very well do that while you’re being a transient in cities across America. Well, and in the woods, too. Of course we saved you and brought you here!”

  I glared at Lisabelle. “You knew I was in the woods?”

  Lisabelle shrugged. “Lucky guess. Will you come to Camilla’s trial?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t that I wanted to disappoint Lisabelle. In fact, disappointing Lisabelle was about the last thing in the world I wanted to do. But I couldn’t bear to be around other paranormals. “I don’t want to see anyone,” I muttered. Sip and Lisabelle exchanged confused looks.

  “I never want to see anyone,” said Lisabelle. “I deal with it.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t say anything right away. I really didn’t know how to explain. Eventually I took a bite of sugar cookie, chewed it for a moment, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

  Sip beamed. “If it makes you feel any better,” she said, “for the most part no one’s going to pay any attention to you while you’re there. We’ll have all sorts of politicking going on, and everyone will want to talk to Charlotte and Dacer.”

  “And you,” said Lisabelle, nudging her. “You’re president of the paranormals after all.”

  “And there are lots of them who are mad at me about one thing or another,” Sip confirmed.

  “Are you going to teach this year, Professor Dacer?”

  Lisabelle sounded hopeful, but Dacer’s sour expression told the darkness mage everything she needed to know. “Absolutely not,” he said. “I cannot be away from my masks for so long. Besides, the students are not improving.” His grimace deepened and Sip was forced to hide her grin.

  “Maybe the students are just what you need,” said Lisabelle.

  Dacer closed his black eyes. In this pose, his thin face relaxed, his long frame lounging in the more typical black of the vampires instead of his usual colorful finery, he looked almost normal. I did see a few leftover sparkles on his eyelashes, though, so okay, not entirely normal.

  “How’s the Museum, Professor Dacer?” I asked.

  His eyes fluttered open and he smiled, sat up, and for the first time looked truly animated and excited. “I have some masks right here in the castle, elemental masks, in fact. I’ve been waiting for your sister to look at them, but she’s terribly busy at the moment.”

  “To be fair, she’s always terribly busy,” said Sip.

  “She’s an elemental,” said Dacer.

  I couldn’t help but feel like there was some sort of silent accusation in his words, along the lines of: If I would stick around to help her, she’d have more time to rest.

  But Charlotte liked all this last-elemental stuff, and I didn’t. She loved nothing more than to be helpful, partly, I think, because she thought it would help people like her. She had always been more off-putting than I was, or so she had said; everyone just seemed to like me easily.

  The thing was, I hadn’t felt that in a long time.

  Everyone had gone quiet, and eventually I realized that everyone else’s eyes were on me. But Dacer look away with a curious expression on his face as soon as my eyes sought his, so I just sighed and finished my tea and cookies. There was a tension that came with the unknown, and at that moment I was feeling it acutely.

  My sister and I were the elemental titans, and I had left her to carry that burden alone.

  “So, what did I miss?” I asked, wanting to get down to business. They probably wouldn’t tell me much of any real importance until Charlotte came, but there must still be a lot of news.

  Gently, Dacer wiped his mouth with the white napkin, which he folded and placed on the table, his long fingers covering the still-immaculate cloth.

  “What was happening when you left?” he asked, squinting at me.

  Paranormal Public was continuing the rebuilding process. It wasn’t as if there was an endless supply of money, in fact it was just the opposite. The paranormal government was bankrupt, and Public wasn’t doing so well either after years of fighting and having to rebuild.

  I told Dacer all of this and he nodded and gave me a bit of an update. Sip wasn’t up for re-election yet, but many groups still clamored to replace her. Not everyone was happy with or appreciative of how she ruled, and there were other aspects to the opposition that I suspected but wasn’t sure about.

  “I assume corruption’s a problem,” I said to Sip. In my opinion, the dysfunction of the paranormal government was so pervasive that I didn’t think it could ever be fixed enough to make it worth the effort. I was amazed that Sip still tried.

  Her face darkened at my question. “The nerve of some paranormals, looking out only for themselves.”

  Lisabelle braced her chin on her hand. “Whatever is that like?” she murmured, as Professor Dacer looked between the two of them and then snorted into a cookie.

  “You know those paranormals who are intense about everything?” said Sip. “Like, they even eat lettuce with intensity? She’s that kind of paranormal. I try to schedule meetings with her only after she’s attended a budget council session, so she’s kind of tuckered out and I have a fighting chance of not throttling her, but it’s hard,” Sip sighed.

  “She’s talking about the opposition leader,” Lisabelle murmured to me. I nodded as if I understood.

  “She’s also a close talker and a loud chewer, which means if you don’t watch out, your face might get a little dirty,” said Sip, sighing again as Dacer paused in his chewing long enough to make a face.

  “What else is going on?” I asked. They had come to get me, after all, and I wasn’t sure I believed it was only because I was about to be sold into slavery and never heard from again. So far as they knew, never being heard from again had been my plan all along, and they had known it, and they had never tried to come and find me before. So what was special about now? As I tried to think it through, the vampire in the black coat suddenly flashed into my mind and I flinched. He had disappeared before I could point him out to Lisabelle and ask her if she knew him, but surely she would have. He was a vampire bringing darkness, and Lisabelle was the ruler of all that thrived in the night.

  “I thought I saw . . .” I wanted to tell them that I thought I saw spies around Duckleworth, but Sip seemed to know what I meant without my having to say a word.

  “We have a lot of paranormals who are watching over us, even if we don’t always see them. We are not as alone as we appear.”

  I swallowed, suddenly feeling silly for worrying about the shadows I saw in the bushes. Of course as the president and premier, Charlotte’s two best friends had protection that wasn’t obvious. They also had many paranormals coming from far and wide to seek their counsel.

  “The trial’s starting this week,” said Lisabelle, “so you’ll be seeing me again so
on. Unless you run away. Again.”

  “What’s she on trial for?” I asked. I knew Camilla had played a supportive role in the Nocturn War, but I wasn’t sure how far they thought her treachery ran.

  “She’s on trial for what all of them are on trial for,” said Sip carefully. “Murder.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Trials had been moving slowly since the end of the Nocturn War, and they had saved the more important trials for last. Camilla probably thought hers was the most important trial of all, since Cynthia Malle was dead and Professor Erikson was not being tried (so said Lisabelle, who was the only paranormal who knew where she was). As far as I knew, paranormal trials worked like this: Someone accused of a crime went before a judge and a board of three. The judge’s vote counted for two, while each member of the board’s counted for one. The judge needed one of the board members to vote with him or her, or else all three of the board members had to vote against him or her. All paranormal judges were appointed; none were hired and none were elected. Judges for trials were chosen based on “practicality” and a “lottery,” for which each senior paranormal had to enter his or her name. Each paranormal could be called on not more than three times in a lifetime to coordinate a trial or offer a solution.

  “So, what about Camilla’s trial?” I pretended to be simply musing, but I was hoping to hear what these powerful paranormals thought her prospects were. Camilla Van Rothson was one of the most hated paranormals who was not darkness. She had had no scruples about trying to kill her peers during the Nocturn War, and before I ran away, my sister had mentioned that she was in prison, put there by her ex-boyfriend Cale. I hadn't thought about her trial while I was traveling, but now, apparently, the trial was upon us. I wondered what Charlotte thought about it.

  “What could they do with her?” I asked, when no one answered my first question.

  Lisabelle rolled her eyes. “They are doing precious little to punish most of the paranormals who have been charged.”

  “They don't really have a choice in the matter,” said Sip. “It’s not like our jails are in very good shape.” The paranormal police academy had not been designed to churn out soldiers, and its recruiting efforts had hit the limit of available paranormals.

  “You mean the jails are understaffed?” I asked, and Sip nodded.

  “There are only three,” she said. “One for minor crimes, one for medium crimes, and one for the big ones. Unfortunately, all the crimes committed during the paranormal war are being treated as major crimes, so the system is stretched far beyond its limits.”

  “So that jail is already full?” I prodded

  Sip nodded. “Charlotte’s been trying to help shore up the defenses, but she can only do so much. We can all only do so much.”

  “Except for me, whose powers are limitless,” said Lisabelle.

  I wasn’t sure if she was kidding. She twiddled her thumbs, but she didn’t smile, so the message seemed mixed to me. Sometimes I wondered if Lisabelle knew how to deliver a joke properly at all.

  Professor Dacer had been silent for a long time, but now he said, “The best case scenario at this point, honestly, would be to have Camilla released to the custody of her family, and to require them to follow a directive to keep her locked away for a certain number of years.”

  “Do you think that would rehabilitate her?”

  “Ha, haha, ha.” Lisabelle looked amused for the first time since she had come to get me. Looking around at our blank expressions, she shrugged. “Oh, that wasn’t funny?” she said, her voice edged with sarcasm. After a few seconds of silence I started to feel like I wanted to be somewhere else again.

  “Ricky, we have government stuff to discuss,” said Sip. “You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t want to bore you.” None of them looked like they had ever been bored. I felt sure that if Dacer were ever bored, he would start designing very fancy and flashy outfits in his head and dream about how to color-coordinate his hair. At the moment his head was wrapped in a sort of turban, and I wondered what was going on with his hair that he didn’t want anyone to see.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, pushing myself up from the table. The garden was peaceful and quiet, with only the sound of the wind and the occasional insect to break the peace. I liked it there, but I needed to think, and in truth I expected I would be bored by a conversation about high governmental matters. It might seem like I would be eager to be allowed into the inner sanctum, but I had learned after the war that there was no glamour to it, only boring hard work. Anyhow, none of the others had tried to convince me to stick around indefinitely, which is what I had been expecting and dreading, so I was just as happy to go off alone and consider my options. I needed to see Charlotte - I missed my big sister. But I had left for a reason, and nothing the others were saying had given me much confidence that there was any point to coming back.

  “You’re welcome anywhere on the grounds,” Dacer yelled after me as I trudged away, “and there are several lower floors that you might find of interest.”

  Dacer’s private apartments were off limits, which didn’t surprise me. A paranormal as eccentric as Professor Dacer needed all the privacy he could get.

  Instead of going back into the house, I decided to enjoy the chance to go for a walk in safety for once. It had been a long time since I’d been anywhere other than a stuffy city, and I wanted to walk in the fresh air for as long as possible. I had a lot to think about.

  What my thoughts kept coming back to, though, was not my own situation but the fact that Professor Dacer’s usual flamboyant personality was very subdued. I had no idea why, but like Sip and Lisabelle coming to rescue me, it was a clear sign that something was wrong, and I wished I had been more assertive in asking everyone to tell me what it was. Maybe it was just his mother, or maybe it was more.

  Lisabelle had always been hard to read, but I had seen enough of her to know that she could be standing at the base of an erupting volcano and still take time to argue with Sip. The paranormal president was almost as difficult. Things that mattered to Sip mattered a lot. It was all a big deal, so it was hard for me to gauge when something was truly dire by ordinary standards.

  This entire thought train had gotten me no further than the front of the house, where I now stood debating whether to seek out the stables and the horse that had brought us to the castle. Then, in the silence, I heard something overhead. I looked up and saw a shape flying high above, and I knew instantly who it was.

  “Charlotte!” I yelled, waving my arms and grinning. “Charlotte!”

  My sister, my one and only sibling, had arrived.

  My older sister, Charlotte Rollins, was known as the last elemental. Over the years we’d endured a lot, about as much as any brother and sister could. For starters, I had thought that a man named Carl was my father, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Carl was not my father, and the fact that he had nevertheless loved me like his own son - had given his life for me in the end - was just one of the many things I had been struggling with for years.

  Right now, though, all the difficulties paled in the face of the sheer happiness I felt at seeing my sister again. As she landed, I waved to her and watched two large birds melt back into the clouds.

  “You look like you’re about to burst,” I said as she wrapped her arms around me.

  “I’m so happy to see you!” she cried. “Gosh, I missed you.”

  “You missed me so much you want to cut off my airway?” I asked, only half kidding.

  “Sorry,” she said, loosening her hold a bit.

  “Where are Sip and Lisabelle? With Dacer? I bet they’re talking shop. Never a dull moment, that’s what I say.”

  “Break for air,” I told her, putting my hands on her shoulders.

  She laughed. “I’m just so excited to see you!” she cried, then she visibly collected herself and calmed down a little.

  “It’s fine,” I told her, because it was. In that moment of first seeing my sister again, every
thing was fine. In fact, it was better than fine.

  “Thanks for coming,” she whispered, her gray eyes searching my own. I didn’t know what she saw there, but her expression pinched a little. Whatever she had seen, it did not ease her mind. “Anyway,” she said, fluffing her curly brown hair, “shall we go for a walk?”

  “Don’t you want to let your friends know you’re here?” I asked. “And where’s Keller?” Charlotte’s boyfriend had been her constant companion since the war. He had told his parents off, shirked any and all fallen angel responsibilities, and devoted himself entirely to Charlotte.

  “He couldn’t get away from the clinic, there’s always so much to do,” she said. “But he sends his love. He can’t wait to see . . .” Then she stopped. I knew she was trying to avoid implying that we would see each other, and given the state I had been in when I left I couldn’t really blame her. “Let’s walk before we say hi,” she said after an awkward pause. “They know I’m here anyway, so I’m not worried.”

  I nodded and glanced back at the house just in time to see Zellie stepping away from the curtain.

  Charlotte didn’t seem to notice; she wrapped her hand around my arm and we started off down the drive. “Just two Rollinses out walking together,” she giggled.

  “Have you been back to Maine?” I asked. Mom’s grave was in Maine, overlooking a hill and our old house. Charlotte shook her head.

  “I can’t go there if you’re not there,” she said. “The house is for sale, actually.”

  “What?” I choked. The house we had grown up in was for sale?

  “Did you want to live there?” she asked, sounding a little concerned.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “But where’d you get the idea I wanted you to sell it?”

  She shrugged. “Something about how you hate being an elemental and you hate that house and you’ll never set foot in it again even if it’s the last thing you have to do. Did I paraphrase that alright?” She glanced sideways at me. Her hand was still lightly on my arm, but the ease between us was ebbing already.