Elemental Air (Paranormal Public Series) (8 page)

I felt old and battered. I tried
to put my hands on the ground and winced in pain. At least they had stopped
bleeding. Now they were just caked in dried scarlet.

After I got out of the shed I
used my arm and shoulder to pushed the door closed, then slumped against it,
breathing deeply as my body shut down.

“Are you okay?”

It was Sip and Lisabelle coming
toward me, and I could see Bartholem winding his way around Lisabelle’s legs.
Apparently he was going to be a fixture with my friend from now on.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, squinting
up at my friends. “Watch out for the door. It sticks.”

Lisabelle hurried over to the
door, her brow creased. I knew that if there was something to find she would
find it. Meanwhile Sip knelt down next to me and seized my hands, clucking at
the state they were in. “I have some healing salve that will help with that,”
she murmured. “It’s been strengthened by the fallen angels’ healing powers.
Unless Keller’s going to get here in time to heal them?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t
want him to know this happened. I don’t want anyone to know. It was just an
accident.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it was,
you’ve had enough alone time today,” said Sip sternly. “Seriously, the trouble
you get into without us. It’s almost like you’re Lisabelle.”

“Hey!” Lisabelle cried. “I heard
that.”

“You were meant to,” Sip called
back over her shoulder.

Lisabelle came over to us. Her
long black hair was pulled away from her face, making her cheekbones look more
severe. Her dark eyes were serious.

“That door was definitely locked.
What’s left of the lock proved it. You were trapped in there intentionally,”
Lisabelle said.

Sip’s eyes hardened, though her
hands were still gentle as she examined my cuts and bruises.

“Dacer wanted ice,” I explained,
still feeling a little lightheaded.

“How did you get out?” Sip asked
curiously.

“Let’s talk about it back at our
place,” said Lisabelle in a clipped voice. It was the first time I had ever
seen her look nervous. “I’ll take Dacer the ice and meet you back there. Sip,
you going to be okay?”

“Of course,” said Sip, for once
not making a sarcastic comment back. Both my friends helped me to my feet.
“Just because a paranormal tried to kill Charlotte doesn’t mean I’m going to go
to pieces.”

“That would only happen if
something happened to me, right?” Lisabelle teased.

“It only happens when I don’t get
my tea in the morning,” Sip insisted, leading me like a small child back to our
camp.

When we got there, Lough was
nowhere to be seen. Instead of staying with Lisabelle, Bartholem had come with
us. He seemed to think he was very useful and that we needed him more than
Lisabelle did right then, and he might not have been wrong. But even so,
instead of being friendly he simply curled up on the best chair in the living
room and went to sleep.

“Are you okay?” Sip asked me
tensely once we were sure we were alone. For the second time since we had
gotten to our camp, she did that trick Lisabelle had taught her at Locke of
checking for listening devices. When nothing smoked, she sat me down on the
sofa.

“I’m going to make some tea. Do
you want any?” She didn’t even wait for an answer, she just disappeared into
the kitchen.

“Sure,” I said. My hands were
already feeling better.

“Sip, that stuff’s amazing,” I
said, examining the closed cuts. I could barely see where the blisters had been
a few minutes before.

“My mom gave it to me,” said Sip,
blushing with pleasure. “She won’t tell me where she got it OR how much it
costs, which means it was really expensive. She just said, the way you and
Lisabelle and Charlotte are going you’re going to need it.”

I giggled. “She got that right.”

Sip grinned at me from inside the
little kitchen. “Yup.”

It didn’t take long for Lisabelle
to come back. She looked positively harassed.

“Dacer’s crazy,” she said,
plopping down on the other end of the couch from me. Bartholem promptly got up,
jumped down from his perch, and came over to sit on Lisabelle’s lap. The
darkness mage petted the cat absently while Bartholem purred like an engine.

“He wants me to wash dishes. ME.
Dishes. I told him I’d magically wash all of them right now. He was furious. He
said everything must be authentic. I asked him how that wasn’t authentic, and
he launched into something, something, something, about French architecture, as
if THAT has anything to do with anything.”

Sip reappeared with a tray, a
teapot, and three cups. Then she went back and fetched sugar, cream, and sliced
lemons.

“Lisabelle, dear, we were
discussing important matters, if you don’t mind,” said Sip, with an extra show
of patience and kindness.

“Like what?” Lisabelle demanded,
looking at Sip from beneath her black lashes. “How about this: It’s too hot for
tea.”

“It’s never too hot for tea,”
said Sip, and despite our protests, she handed each of us a cup. Once she had
her own and had sat herself comfortably down in the seat that Bartholem had
just vacated, she looked at me and said, “Okay, I’m ready. Start from the
beginning.”

“Yes, now that’s Sip’s ready the
world may rotate again,” said Lisabelle, pretending to talk to Bartholem.

I started from the beginning. I
told my friends how I had wanted to go for a walk to clear my head, but then I
had run into Lough and the two of us had walked together. I told them about
spotting Malle and hiding behind the tree and about Lough wanting to leave, but
my insistence on listening. That’s when my friends started to ask questions. I
relayed what I had heard as clearly as I could and explained that Caid did not
seem the least bit uncomfortable in Malle’s company.

“They were agreeing on
something,” I said stubbornly. “He agreed to do something for her and she wants
it done now, but he says it’s the kind of thing that takes time. He’s a
Nocturn. The president of the paranormals in a Nocturn.”

“We don’t know that for sure,”
said Sip worriedly. “He could have been talking to her for all kinds of reasons
that we don’t know about. Last semester Caid said he was the most loyal
paranormal we would ever meet.”

“He lied,” I said bitterly. I
remembered that conversation, one of the times he had snuck into Astra. He had
said he didn’t think the artifacts were real, but if they were I was welcome to
try and find them. Well, I had now wasted a summer looking for the Globe White,
with not even a hint of its whereabouts or even any evidence of its existence.

“Are you going to tell Dacer?”
Lisabelle asked, still stroking Bartholem. She hadn’t touched her tea.

“I don’t think so,” I said in
frustration. “How can I?”

“Good question,” Lisabelle
agreed. Noticing Sip glaring at her, she rolled her eyes and picked up her
teacup.

“And Sip, I don’t know that I
believe he had a good reason to just TALK to her. If I talked to her I’d try to
kill her,” I finished hotly.

“Look how well that’s worked out
for you,” said Sip dryly. “Trafton told me about the injuries you had after you
fought her. It’s madness.”

I shrugged. “She’s a full mage. I
had to try.”

“Do you think the hellhounds were
there for her?” Sip asked.

I nodded. “Definitely. She must
have guards. Even if Caid is on her side, the rest of us aren’t. She would want
protection and help in case the two of them were discovered together.”

Lisabelle, who had been quiet,
chewed her lower lip. “What about Saferous?”

I threw up my hands in
exasperation. “I thought he was trustworthy too, but apparently not.”

Just then the door banged open
and Lough came in.

“Hi, all,” he said in his usual
jovial tone, his cheeks as red as ever. “I tell you I’ve had such a day. It’s
been -” He was about to plop down on the other chair when he caught sight of
Bartholem.

“Um, what’s that doing here?” he
asked in horror. “Doesn’t he have anywhere else to be?” He glared at the cat.

Lisabelle glanced down at the
cat, who was purring so loudly even I could hear him. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well, I’m going to take a
shower,” said Lough testily. “Maybe he’ll be gone by the time I’m finished.”

“Maybe,” said Lisabelle, trying
to keep from laughing.

“Go ahead and laugh,” said Lough,
his cheeks getting even redder. “That cat’s going to turn out to be demon spawn,
and then you’ll be sorry.”

“I would laugh,” said Lisabelle,
“but I don’t want to disturb the cat.”

Lough fled as the rest of us
burst into laughter. We kept right on talking until he came back, his face
looking freshly scrubbed and his hair still wet.

“You should start getting ready
for the party,” he chided us. “Caid’s back yard looks pretty amazing out there.
Watching Dacer is almost as entertaining as attending the party will be. He’s
really in his element.”

After we caught him up on what
we’d been talking about, Lough decided to go and see if Dacer needed any more
help. He refused to stay in the downstairs of the cabin alone with the cat
while we got ready for the party.

“The cat has a name,” said
Lisabelle, her eyes dancing.

“Oh, does he? Oh, well,” said
Lough, slamming the door on his way out.

Lisabelle went over to pet
Bartholem, whom she had left sitting comfortably on the chair by himself. “He
doesn’t like you, does he?” she murmured in the cat’s ear. Bartholem barely
stirred.

“What kind of party is this,
anyway?” Sip asked, rummaging through her bag. “I didn’t realize it would be so
fancy.”

Dacer had warned me that Caid was
having an important party that we would be attending before our return to
Public and the start of my junior year, so I was somewhat better prepared than
the others. I had a shimmery dress that skimmed my knees, all in white. My
frizzy brown hair needed to be washed, and Sip was going to lend me a blue
necklace.

Sip had picked a long dress in
purple and green. She’d had to hem it to within an inch of its life because she
was so short.

“I like the short sleeves,” I
said admiringly.

“Thanks,” said Sip, beaming. “My
mom made it.”

“Wow,” I said. “She’s really
good.”

“She said she practiced through
all the boys,” said Sip, grinning. “She really wanted a girl, and then she got
a tomboy with short hair. But I’m coming around.”

“What are you wearing?” I turned
to Lisabelle and instantly rolled my eyes. She was in a black long-sleeved
dress, black shoes, and a black necklace. She had her hair pulled back tightly.

“Why is your dress short and your
sleeves long?” Sip asked, her brow furrowed.

“Because I don’t want anyone to
see my wand,” said Lisabelle, affectionately tapping her arm.

“Ah,” said Sip. “That makes
sense.”

“Caid would probably run right to
Malle and tell her,” I said. “Then we’d be in real trouble.”

“One of her biggest weaknesses is
losing her wand,” said Sip. “She must be trying to figure out her own way of
getting around that.”

“Like gluing it to her hand,”
said Lisabelle. “When we rip it out of her fingers we can take some skin with
it!”

“And on that note,” said Sip,
sighing as she turned around to grab a small purple bag to carry with her,
“let’s go to the party.”

“Why are you being skeptical?”
Lisabelle demanded as she followed us downstairs. “It’s true that if she glued
it to her hand, ripping it out would take skin with it. That’s why I didn’t
glue my own.”

“Really?” Sip demanded, waving to
Bartholem and opening the front door. “I thought it was because it would make
things like writing, eating, and generally existing difficult.”

“News flash,” said Lisabelle,
“existing is already difficult.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said
Sip. She pulled up her dress so that it wouldn’t drag on the ground and headed
down the path.

“Can I get that in writing?”
Lisabelle asked.

“Only because I haven’t glued a
wand to my hand,” said Sip, grinning.

Night had fallen while we were in
the cabin discussing whether or not Caid was a traitor. As it happened, I really
didn’t think there was much need for discussion. It was obvious that Caid had
turned to darkness. Now I just wanted to know why.

The lake was ablaze in a million
white lights. The trees were hung with lanterns in the shape of leaves, while
strings of white lights hung off of branches. It was a very beautiful and
delicate scene. I hadn’t realized how many paranormals had arrived, but the
whole back yard of the summer house was overflowing.