The Elementals Collection

by L. B. Gilbert

  They all stared at him in surprise. He shrugged. “I’ve been reading.”

  “That’s true,” Serin said. “But high fae—especially ones who move out in the world—are far too tricky for a simple bullet. I’ll come with you.”

  She nodded at Noomi, gesturing at Loki. “Do you have him?”

  Loki answered for her. “Yes, she does. But I’m all right. Let’s go get him.”

  The fae struggled to his feet. Serin tapped her foot. “I’d tell you to stay put, but I know it won’t do any good.”

  Loki beamed, grabbing Noomi’s arm.

  Serin glowered at him. “Keep your heads down till Armand is secure.”

  Noomi hung back as the others filed out of the rear entrance, the cowardly tail in a string of brave warriors.

  They exited, fanning out with almost military precision.

  The warehouse was part of a series of others just like it. A narrow asphalt road separated it from the identical building next door.

  Noomi was ready to run, searching for the high fae, but he hadn’t gotten far. The arms dealer was running toward them, his mouth open as he screamed.

  Genuine terror was etched across Armand’s face. She understood the reason seconds later.

  A massive black wolf was running toward them. It had silver paws and jaws so wide she was reminded of the massive sharks that liked to breed off the waters of T’Kaieri.

  When Armand saw them, he turned left, trying to escape down the alley, but the wind whipped up. Logan appeared, blocking his path. Armand turned right instead, running straight into Daniel’s waiting fist. The fae sank to the ground, insensible.

  Noomi came to an abrupt halt, panting from the exertion. There wasn’t much call to run in the archives.

  “Hey,” Logan said as she struggled to calm her breathing. The Air Elemental waved cheerily at the rest of the group.

  Smiling, Serin threw an arm up at her sister. “What are you doing here?”

  Logan shrugged as her mate shifted. Connell appeared at her side, tugging on a pair of pants he’d gotten from the Mother only knew where. “We heard Noomi was out of the basement, and we figured this was an all-hands-on-deck situation,” she replied with a grin.

  Blushing, Noomi ducked her head.

  “Not a bad idea actually,” Serin said, touching Noomi’s shoulder comfortingly. “We’re going to need Diana. This entire warehouse needs to burn down to the foundation, with every gun and bullet inside.”

  Logan nodded. “She’s not far. I’ll go get her.”

  Noomi noticed Daniel hadn’t moved. He was staring down at the unconscious man.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He glanced up, his eyes darker than their normal hazel. “I know this man.”

  “Who is he?”

  Daniel passed a hand over his face. “I know him as Dallas Munroe. In Washington D.C., he’s a hotshot DEA agent. If I’d gone to work there as planned, he would have been one of my bosses.”

  Connell whistled. “I smell a conspiracy.”

  Serin picked the fae up. He didn’t wake. “Well, if there is one, his part in it is over.”

  “He’s still glamoured, even in this state,” Noomi said, examining him closely. She could feel the disguise like an overlay over his core being. “He must be reinforcing it with a potion or physical charm.”

  Daniel clenched his fist, slight disgust on his face. “Do you think he was replaced, or has he been fae the whole time?”

  “We may never know,” Serin said. “But at least we have an idea of where to search for the artifacts.”

  Loki gestured to the warehouse with his thumb. “Back in there?”

  “Yes, and whatever office he’s been using as part of his DEA persona.”

  “I’m on it, chief,” Logan said with a small salute. “I’ll pop into his office in D.C. after bringing Diana here.”

  After taking Connell’s hand, she disappeared with a gust of wind.

  “I’ll help Noomi start the search,” Loki said after watching her go. “We have a big ass warehouse to search before Diana torches this place.”

  Daniel was still frowning at Armand. Serin put a hand on his shoulder. Noomi tugged at Loki’s hand. The human needed a moment to come to terms with this latest discovery.

  It was going to take her a lot longer…

  Equal parts vindication and disappointment flowed through him. Loki wanted to celebrate his first successful superhero mission with Noomi, but he understood her pressing need to take the artifacts they’d found in the warehouse back to the archive. T’Kaieri’s underground chambers possessed potent natural wards that muted their power.

  Even the amulet had given off a ghastly vibe, and all it did according to Noomi was create a squirrel flash mob.

  “More like a rabid squirrel army,” Serin corrected.

  He’d immediately wanted to see that, but Noomi had taken the pieces away before he could put them together. That was probably for the best.

  Whatever else was true, Loki had a newfound respect for librarians. Not only had Noomi kept a whole museum of evil artifacts from cross-reacting and destroying the world, but with a little push from him, she’d also jumped into the fray to kick some golem ass.

  Damn. He should have asked Serin if he could tag along to T’Kaieri. She would have let him if he’d asked nicely. But Loki was a tiny bit ashamed at needing the last-minute save, so when the Elemental had rushed off and offered to drop the librarian off, he hadn’t complained.

  He’d take Noomi out for a celebration soon enough. She would love Dionysia.

  Loki rounded the corner of the warehouse, intent on finding a car to hotwire.

  The blow caught him on the back of the head. He groaned, stunned, but he managed to cover his head and spin around. The edges of his vision growing dark, he recognized Mayon, the personal bodyguard and occasional consort to the Queen of Air and Darkness.

  Loki passed out with Mayon’s name on his lips.

  When he came to, he was in an iron cell. Despite never having seen it in person, Loki recognized his prison instantly. This hellhole was legendary among his kind. Fae from every caste knew what it looked like.

  He was in the Seelie Court’s dungeon.

  “This is my worst nightmare.” He clutched his aching head. Hell, this was every fae’s worst nightmare.

  Mayon smirked at him from the other side of the bars. But Loki knew something was off. The fire fae’s smell was unmistakable. This guy reeked of the wildness of the forest, not fire and ash. The queen’s favorite guard was a fire fae. This guy wasn’t Mayon.

  “Give it up. I know you’re not him. You can’t fool a Loki with that weak-ass glamour.”

  The imposter scowled. His face rippled, the striking features melting away to reveal a harsh and wild visage.

  Fuck me. It was Thracian. The forest smell made sense now. The man in front of him was the head of the Great Hunt.

  “I’d start preparing for my trial now,” Thracian said, sneering down at him.

  “Trial?” Loki was mystified. “What trial?”

  It was true the Seelie Court had no love for Elementals, but they wouldn’t actually punish him for consorting with one. Hell, Serin was his closest friend. If anything, they’d give him a pass to avoid pissing her off.

  But if that were true, then why the hell was the head huntsman holding him prisoner? Had something changed?

  “Are you here keeping that rabid mob you call the Great Hunt in check?” he asked.

  Thracian sneered. “Don’t worry about them. You’ll be seeing them soon enough.”

  Loki did not want to know what the other fae meant by that. He got to his feet, holding his aching head gingerly so it wouldn’t fall off his shoulders. The lightbulb finally went off. He swore. “You were in league with Armand. You wanted to buy his guns. Who were you going to shoot with them?”

  Thracian laughed. “Me? I caught you trafficking in human arms.”

  Loki wanted to roll his
eyes, but his head hurt too much. “I helped destroy the cache.”

  Thracian dropped the pretense. He squatted close to the bars, being careful not to touch them. “And in doing so, you ruined a year’s worth of work. Those weapons were going to liberate us.”

  “Are you mad?” Loki scoffed. “You’d never be able to smuggle one of those guns into the court. There are way too many safeguards in place for such a simpleminded plan.”

  Thracian face darkened, his flat grey eyes promising death. “I assure you there was nothing simple about our plan.”

  “Our plan? So there are more conspirators?” Loki leaned back on his hands. “Don’t you think it’s a bit stupid to give me so many details?” The real Mayon would be very interested in learning he had a cabal intent on bringing down the monarchy right under his nose.

  Thracian put his hands on his hips. “Why? I doubt anybody will bother to ask you anything. It’s been a while since we had a good old-fashioned treason trial. But we’ve both been around long enough to know it’s a formality. In fact, by the time they get around to the proceedings, I doubt you’ll be able to walk, let alone speak.”

  Loki clenched his fists. “You know this won’t work. I’m going to beat this if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The hunter laughed. “It would have to be. The penalty for treason is death.”

  33

  A week later

  The desert air was so dry it was sucking the moisture from Daniel’s eyeballs. Every time he opened his mouth, he tasted sand, but he didn’t dare spit it out. He needed what moisture was left in his body.

  Their investigation had led them to a small but luxurious palace in the desert outskirts of Dubai. The arid atmosphere didn’t seem to bother Serin at all, but her powers were bound to be affected.

  This location made perfect sense. If Jordan wanted to hide from an all-powerful Water-wielding Elemental, where would the cowardly little traitor go? A seaside villa was out of the question. Just ask the Reaper how well that had turned out for him…

  The palace had been built by a sheik in the sixties as a private retreat where he could indulge in his love of Western vices. He’d invited Hollywood movie stars and showgirls to entertain him, throwing lavish pool parties and decadent balls worthy of the Great Gatsby.

  Today, the pools were empty. None of the fountains were operational and the elaborate gardens were bone dry. There were still splashes of color here and there—plants protected from the wind kept their blooms, but they were desiccated, almost as if they’d been pressed between the pages of a massive book.

  Every time the Santa-Anna-like winds blew, he felt like the flowers were crumbling only to blow straight into his face.

  Serin was busy doing the magical equivalent of reconnaissance. Water content let her count the number of people with ease, but she wanted a bit of recon in case there were booby traps she needed to deactivate.

  The full moon lit the gardens better than a spotlight. Nighttime was also better for Serin. She drifted close to the ground like a fog. The vapor circled the building, listening. The image stirred a memory. Just before he’d noticed her at the farmhouse, he’d seen Serin rising out of the mist. At the time, he’d assumed it was mist from the rain, but he knew now that small intermediary step was part of her power—Water but a little bit of Air, too.

  There had been that moment where she’d wielded Fire as well, helping Diana ignite the curse tentacles on T’Kaieri. Though Water was her primary gift, it must have taken ages to learn to control all three elements. She might be able to do Earth magic, too, for all he knew. Her skills would only grow over time.

  Fuck retiring in ten years. If Serin wanted to keep working, Daniel was going to make sure no one stood in her way.

  His heart swelled with pride, but he pushed it down, refocusing on his surroundings. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. No matter what went down, tonight was going to be brutal.

  Which was why despite all her gifts, Serin needed him. Whether she realizes it or not.

  She materialized next to him as if he’d summoned her from a lamp. The look on her face reminded him of a Djinn as well, not the happy-jokey cartoon kind, but the dark and deadly interpretations that had started to grace the small screen in the last few years.

  He gestured at the house. The lights were on. Loud music was playing. “Is he there?”

  “Yes.” She turned to him. “Listen. I want to do this alone. You should stay here.”

  Daniel pulled his gun out of his holster. “Hell no.”

  That asshole in there had nearly destroyed an entire civilization. Maybe things hadn’t worked out for Jordan the way he’d wanted with Serin, but that was no reason to take it out on the rest of her community. Those people had embraced him, shared meals with him. They had made him a part of their lives, and the bastard had tried to destroy them.

  The more Daniel thought about it, the angrier he got.

  Serin ran her teeth over her lip. “Please. I want you to stay here.”

  His heart ached, but he shook his head.

  She stared at him, her full lips parting. “I…I don’t want you to watch.”

  “I know.” He really did. Daniel put his hands on either side of her face. “Nothing you do in there will change how I feel about you.”

  Her head tilted as she studied him, weighing his words. “You think that now. But all you’ve seen me do is try to save people I love or defend myself. This is something else.”

  Aw, screw it. He was never going to have the right words to convince her. He was going to have to show her.

  Daniel put his arms on her shoulder, gently turned her in the direction of the French doors. A light feminine giggle could be heard as a shadow passed on the other side of the gauzy curtain covering the interior of the glass.

  “It’s time to end this. I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

  Daniel was still holding her when she let go. She didn’t carry him with her this time, so he was able to feel that moment when Serin transformed from a strong and supple woman to her water form.

  She was gone the next second, slipping through the crack under the door.

  That better not be a fucking metaphor, he told the universe, raising his gun and following her inside.

  The inside of the palace was richly tiled. Some effort had gone into its upkeep, but not the careful tending the intricate mosaic walls required. The plaster between them was cracked. Nothing a little tender loving care couldn’t fix, of course, but Jordan had evidently not been concerned with home improvements.

  He was too busy carousing.

  The detritus of parties past littered the floor and the surface of every table. There were gilt plates and silver cutlery, some dirty, some clean. A few were piled with fresh fruit or delicate morsels of food next to partially filled champagne glasses.

  She picked up a glass, noting the bright pink lipstick stain on the rim. So far, she’d been unnoticed by the three drunks dancing at the other end of the room. Jordan had always been partial to champagne. Personally, she couldn’t abide the stuff.

  Her former partner was swaying side to side with his eyes closed, a bottle in his hand. He took a swig as his dance partners, two silicone-enhanced blondes, rubbed against each other and him. It should have been sexy, but here, in the middle of nowhere, it just seemed…sad.

  One of the blondes noticed her first. She pointed at Serin, but the sudden movement was too much for her drunken state. Off balance, she bumped into the others, laughing nonsensically as she slid to the floor.

  “We have company,” she said with a giggle, tugging on her short skirt—too late to keep her assets private. The woman wasn’t wearing underwear.

  Jordan spun around. His eyes flared when he saw Serin standing there. He stopped swaying, lowering the bottle to his side. His face was expressionless, but his eyes roiled. He didn’t even glance at Daniel, who circled the room with his weapon aimed at the trio.

  After a moment, Jordan laughed. It was effo
rtlessly charming, the laugh of a carefree and caring man. She had never realized how good he’d been at lying to her.

  “Welcome, my love,” he said with an exaggerated bow. He held up the bottle. “Care for some champagne? It’s your favorite.”

  Serin pinched the stem of the glass between her two fingers. “Actually, it’s your favorite. I prefer a sweet red.” She set down the glass, the clink of fine crystal resonating as it hit the wooden table. “You should tell your friends to leave.”

  Jordan’s face twisted, and he pulled one of the blondes against him like a shield. The woman squealed, her stilettos sliding on the tile floor.

  “Hey,” she protested, confusion and a little fear flashing across her perfect features.

  Serin’s mouth turned down. “You know that won’t help. Let her go.”

  Jordan huffed and shrugged, releasing the girl abruptly. Without his hold, she stumbled, nearly losing her balance.

  “Sorry, Jess.” He reached into his pocket, then tossed a set of keys at her. “You and Misty should take off.”

  Scowling, Jess caught the keys. Her eyes went from his to Serin, finally resting on Romero aiming his gun, his stance marking him as a professional.

  “Yeah, okay. Call us later,” she said, pulling the other lady off the floor.

  “But we were just getting started,” the one called Misty whined.

  “Shut up,” Jess snapped, yanking her toward the other side of the house and the exit nearest the garage.

  Serin didn’t bother watching them go. She kept her eyes on Jordan, making sure he didn’t reach into a pocket for a spell bomb or an enhanced firearm.

  Jordan turned his head, noticing Daniel for the first time. “Who the hell is this?” he asked, a mix of indignation and jealousy in his voice.

  “You don’t get to ask any questions,” Serin said, picking her way across the room, stopping here and there to pick up an object.

  She set down a jeweled letter opener before holding up a vaguely Elephantine statue carved out of cloudy blue crystal. “This is the memory stone. I recognize it from the list of items you stole before you faked your death. According to our records, a skilled practitioner can use it to read a person’s memories…even change them.”