Elemental Air (Paranormal Public Series) (13 page)

The moment he walked away, the
spell was broken and Camilla could move again. Apparently even while she was
standing there immobile she could hear, because she let Kia lead her away. She
spared Lisabelle one spiteful glance, but the darkness mage ignored her.

My friends and I exchanged looks.
I was a little surprised by how furious Oliva was. Then, from somewhere near
where Lisabelle was sitting, I heard a low, angry, hissing and spitting noise.

“Did you bring Bartholem?” I
mouthed to her. She gave me a curt nod. Lough, who could just hear us, made a
noise of dismay.

After that we had a tense but
quiet ride. Oliva would periodically glare back at us, while Dove and Zervos
ignored us entirely.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that
Public just wouldn’t be the same.

Once we arrived at Public, the
rain was coming down so hard I couldn’t even see the buildings out the bus
window. As soon as we were on campus grounds, Zervos turned around from his
seat in the front and said, “We’re going to drop you off one at a time. Your
bags will be waiting for you. Please return to your respective dorms. Dinner
tonight is the first meal and it will no longer be in the library basement, and
a good thing that is, too, since the librarians were getting very angry. Dinner
will be on the first floor of the new building in the center of campus.”

The builders had been busy all
summer, and I wished I could see the building through the rain.

The first to be dropped off was
Keller. He gave me a kiss goodbye and said he’d meet us at dinner. Next were
Kia and Camilla. The hostility in the bus went down markedly once they were
gone.

Sip, Lough, Trafton, and
Lisabelle were next. They murmured their goodbyes and left quickly, while I
moved up to the front of the bus. It was just Rake and me now. I was reluctant
to be anywhere near Zervos, but the vampire professor wasn’t paying any
attention to me, he was staring straight ahead, his black eyes snapping. I
wondered what he was so angry about. He had never been a big fan of Oliva, and
I thought maybe the two had had a fight up at the front of the bus. That would
also explain why Oliva was so on edge.

Rake and I exchanged glances and
the big vampire shrugged. “Do you know your schedule yet?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, grinning
ruefully. “I signed up for the classes.”

Unlike last semester, when we had
been forced to take the most ridiculous classes, this time we had been allowed
to sign up for what we wanted, which was a first. Of course, there were classes
we had to take to graduate, but I especially, as the only elemental, had some
leeway, since there were no elemental professors to teach me my craft.

“Have you gotten your books yet?”
Rake asked.

I shook my head. “Sip, Lisabelle,
and I were going to do that after dinner,” I said. “We’ve never been able to
before.”

Oliva swiveled around in his
chair. “You’re glad for the opportunity to choose?” he asked, his face
unreadable.

Surprised that he was speaking to
me again considering how much trouble he had said we were in, I nodded. “Yes,
I’m really looking forward to my classes.”

“Good,” was all he said,
swiveling back to face forward.

I was the next one off the bus,
and though Dove got as close to Astra as he could, I was still soaked when I
pushed the great front door open. I nearly wanted to collapse with happiness. I
was home.

There was something strange about
the place that made me frown. I could hear the crackle of fire coming from the
elemental study and the floor looked newly swept, even though I hadn’t been
there all summer. I could also smell something strange. I thought there was a
very good chance that what I was smelling was baked chocolate chip cookies.

Briefly, I wondered if I should
use a Contact Stone to call Keller. If I was in danger he would want to know
about it, but demons didn’t bake cookies, so I didn’t bother.

Still frowning, I headed for the
kitchen to investigate. When I had first moved into Astra, at the start of the
second semester of my first year at Public, I had been assigned a dorm mother.
Her name was Mrs. Swan, and she was mysterious and wonderful and I had always
felt like she was on my side. She had even saved me once when demons attacked.

Last semester she had disappeared.
It had been gut-wrenching to think she was in danger and I had no way to help
her. So far as I knew she was still missing, one of a growing list of
paranormals who had disappeared when the darkness had come. I had spent a lot
of time wondering what had happened to her. Was she at Astra? Was she at home
alone? As with the mysteries that surrounded my mother, I had every intention
of finding out the answers. Also as with my mother, I felt sure that someone
knew something. I just had to find the someone who did.

I pushed the kitchen door open
and was almost overcome with yummy sights and smells. The counter was covered
with baked goods. There were heaps of muffins, from your average lemon poppy to
what looked like more exotic dream berry and ice cream. There was even a wood
chip chocolate muffin, a Lisabelle favorite. I could see a large pitcher of
milk and a single glass.

In front of the oven was a tiny
woman, who was almost as wide as she was tall. Her gray hair was in a bun, with
a cute little hat covering it. She wore a floor-length dress of dark pink,
brown loafers, and an apron that was a lighter pink, with ties of yet another
shade of that ever so girly color. At the sound of the door knob she spun
around, a tray of cookies in her hands.

She had horned-rimmed glasses, a
beaked nose, and wide lips. Her eyes were a muddy brown, and when she smiled
her face was mostly teeth. She reminded me of a grandmother who could also
double as a cupcake.

“You’re late,” she chided me with
a smile. She placed the tray of cookies on potholders she had set on the
island, and before she covered them I saw that the potholders were purple with
white flowers.

“Um,” I started. “Who are you?”
Not that I wanted to be rude, but Astra was mine.

She clucked as she picked up a
spatula and started to slide the cookies, which looked like peanut butter and
white chocolate chip, onto waiting trays.

“I’m Martha Mayson,” she said.
She gave me a curtsy. “I suppose they didn’t tell you. I understand that
communication is not their thing, particularly with all the changes going on
around here lately.” She gave a gusty sigh. “I’m your new dorm mother.”

I didn’t like the sound of that
at all. “I don’t mean to be rude,” I said. Martha’s spatula paused for a just a
second. “But I have a dorm mother.”

Martha gave me a sympathetic
look. “Mrs. Swan is still listed as missing. It’s bad enough that a young girl
without a mother was left to live by herself in this drafty old house for all
of last semester. It’s just not acceptable two semesters in a row.”

“What if Mrs. Swan comes back?” I
asked. There was no part of me that would agree to believe she was dead.

Martha stopped moving cookies
around altogether and looked up at me. “If she comes back, I promise to leave
or to let you choose between us. Okay?”

I frowned. I still didn’t like
it. “I was just fine last semester by myself,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t need
a dorm mother.”

“Agree to disagree,” she said
cheerily, going back to her spatula. “Tea?”

“Who else is coming?” I asked as
I sat down gingerly in one of the high chairs. She had laid out three teacups
on the island, so clearly someone else was expected, even if not by me.

“I hear we have a ghost living
upstairs,” she said.

I had picked up one of the
cherry-filled cookies, and now I nearly choked on my first bite, but Martha
appeared not to notice.

“Um, he lives in the library,” I
said carefully.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve met him,
and now I’ve invited him to tea.”

“I don’t think he’s supposed to
be there,” I said. I didn’t want her getting Sigil in trouble, or worse, kicked
out, before he could tell me more of what I wanted to know.

“Of course, my dear,” said
Martha. “He can be there if you say he can.”

“Um, he can?” I said with
surprise.

“Of course,” she said, smiling
again. “You can give paranormals in the sixth house asylum here, because they
don’t have a place of their own. You cannot have a vampire live with us,
because a vampire already has a place. But if you choose to allow this Sigil to
remain in the attic, so be it.”

She was speaking very carefully
now, and I had no idea what she actually thought I should do or what she wanted
me to do. I was about to ask more questions when I heard a bang and an oof from
outside the room. The next second Sigil floated through the same door I had come
through moments before.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said
worriedly, pushing at his glasses as usual. When he wasn’t fidgeting with his
glasses he was fidgeting with his hat.

“Not a problem,” said Martha,
still with that sugary cheer. “Charlotte was late herself.”

I wanted to tell her again that I
couldn’t be late if I didn’t know there was a time I was supposed to be there
in the first place, but I decided not to bother. She didn’t look like the type
who took arguing well.

“Those cookies look scrumptious,”
said Sigil, sitting next to me on the chair. Or at least he pretended to sit.
Since he was a ghost, there was really no reality to his sitting, or eating or
drinking either, for that matter.

“Another cookie?” Martha held up
a plate of sugar cookies with green and pink sugar on them. I shook my head.
“I’m due at dinner soon.”

“Ah, yes,” said Martha knowingly.
“The new dining hall is beautiful. I am sure you’ll love it. The designers did
such a splendid job. As they always do on the beautiful campus of Paranormal
Public.”

“Um, that’s great,” I said,
wondering if this woman was crazy or had gotten into some liquor. Alcohol was
supposed to be very bad for paranormals.

“Now, Sigil,” said Martha,
pouring the tea. “We need to talk about your rules.”

Sigil’s eyebrows, already hard to
see behind the glasses and because of the whole ghost thing, disappeared up
into his tilted hat. “Rules?” he squeaked. “What rules?”

“If you’re going to live here, I
expect you to follow certain rules,” she explained patiently, as if she was
talking to a small child.

“You didn’t say anything about
rules,” I said, accepting my cup of tea from her.

“Oh, sweetheart, there are always
rules,” said Martha with a smile. “Now Sigil. Here’s what I expect. You are not
to steal. You are to keep out of sight whenever I, or Charlotte, wishes. You
are not to lend books, even to Charlotte - ” Sigil and I both made noises of
protest, but Martha held up her hand, brooking no opposition.

“Should you find yourself in
Astra alone and unsupervised, you are not to leave the library. Also, should I
think of any other rules, I reserve the right to implement them at any time.”

Not long into Martha’s little
speech, Sigil had gone bug-eyed. He was now staring straight ahead and his
hands were twisting back and forth in his lap. He looked positively horrified.
His mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

“I don’t agree with any of this,”
I said in frustration, staring at Martha helplessly. “You don’t belong here.”

Sigil appeared to gain a little life
back upon hearing my words, and he gave me a look of appreciation. Martha, on
the other hand, was not impressed. It was the first time since I had walked
into the kitchen that her veneer of kindness slipped and her muddy brown eyes
went hard for just a second.

“There must be rules,” she
repeated, as if she was a voice recording that could only respond with a
limited number of answers.

I was speechless. I glanced at
Sigil, but he was also lost for words.

“Sigil,” I started to whisper,
but Martha banged her spatula down on the table.

“We have a ghost in Astra,” she
said. “This is unacceptable. I have, out of the goodness of my heart, agreed to
allow him to stay, but there-must-be-rules.”

“I have to go,” I said. “It’s
dinnertime and I can’t be late.” I slid off the chair. I wanted to take another
sugar cookie for my walk, but the way Martha was shoveling cookies onto plates
with a violence I had rarely seen in relation to baking before, I thought
better of it.

“We can talk about your rules
tomorrow,” said Martha cheerily, as she took the dirty dishes over to the sink.
“Have a wonderful time walking around this beautiful campus.”

I nearly tripped over my own
feet, but Sigil, seeing I was about to tumble to the ground, caught me and held
me steady. Once I had my balance back I repeated dumbly, “My rules?”

“There must be rules,” said
Martha, nodding serenely, as if she was caught in the middle of some crazy and
chaotic situation and she was a beacon of calm. Ha.