Elemental Havoc (Paranormal Public Book 11) (3 page)

“You know you aren’t supposed to be eating those,” Dacer called over his shoulder without even turning to look.

The Duchess put her hand behind her back. “Eating what?” she asked innocently. Then she turned around and winked at us.

Security tightened across the paranormal spectrum. More police needed. Three more attacks. Rumors that paranormals are attacking each other, solution sought from the Quest Government.

After all that, I still didn’t sleep well. Keegan came into my room and slept in one of the chairs, slumped over with his head tilted sideways and his chin resting on his shoulder. He snored, but it didn’t matter, because I was going to be wide awake regardless. I wanted to know what Dacer and the Duchess were doing, but I didn’t dare ask. They clearly still thought I was just a kid, and despite the fact that they needed an elemental now more than ever, more specifically one who wasn’t pregnant, that apparently didn’t mean I was going to be brought into the loop.

When the thin, pale light of morning filtered into the room, I hurried out of bed and quickly threw on jeans and a sweatshirt. Keegan slept like the dead, so I didn’t have to worry about waking him up. And even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered much, because he was going to have to get up soon anyhow. Tomorrow we were due to leave Duckleworth for Paranormal Public University to start our freshman year, and we had a lot to do to get ready. Charlotte had already promised to see me there since she couldn’t be here at Dacer’s with me. As a professor she had a lot of work she needed to do to get ready for the start of the school year, and I had told her I didn’t want to interrupt what she was doing. She had laughed.

“It’s mostly boring paperwork. I live for the Contacts from Sip to keep me in the loop about the interesting things in the world,” she had said, smiling fondly. Charlotte was doing that a lot lately, smiling fondly about stuff she had once really cared about. I wasn’t sure entirely what it meant, but one thing I knew was that she had no intention of battling demons or doing anything that would put her child at risk.

“Does Lisabelle also write to you?” I asked. When Charlotte threw her head back and laughed, I realized what a silly question it was. Yeah, I guess she probably didn’t.

“Lisabelle would be more likely to Contact me than to write,” said Charlotte. “She doesn’t trust letters.”

“Who would dare steal a letter of the darkness premier’s?” I asked.

“That’s what Sip tries to tell her,” said Charlotte, still looking amused. “As usual, Lisabelle doesn’t listen.”

An odd city of sorts had grown up next to the woods that circled Public. It was barebones, but the many workers who were on hand helping Martha rebuild the campus needed a place to stay, and what had started as a sort of makeshift worksite was now a makeshift town. Charlotte’s contemporary, the hybrid Dobrov Valedication, had been named Public’s new president, and earlier in the summer I had heard that he was concerned about the presence of so many paranormals who weren’t permanently connected with the college.

Part of what made Paranormal Public safe, after all, was the fact that it was hard to get to, and strong protection was one of its big drawing cards. Now there was a camp surrounding it filled with workers who were far less well-protected than the students inside the grounds. That laxness was a draw for killers and other dangerous characters, and further, it was easy to hide in the makeshift town if your ultimate goal was Public. Now a Hunter could come into town, moonlight as a worker, and cause all kinds of problems.

Despite Dobrov’s fears, there wasn’t much he could do. The work had to be done and the workers had to stay somewhere. As it turned out, they were very helpful. Charlotte said that Martha, whom she saw often in the kitchen of Astra, calmed down considerably once she had some help and Paranormal Public was on its way to being restored. That seemed to make the presence of the workers and their rough and ready town worth it, at least for now. But I had heard that Dobrov remained unconvinced.

As I thought about all of it, there came to mind a saying I had heard before: “When will the other shoe drop?” Lisabelle always felt the need to add, “And how heavy will it prove to be?”

Still, when the day finally came for us to make the journey to Public, I was excited at the prospect of seeing this new little town. I knew that Bertrum, Sip’s personal assistant extraordinaire, had played a significant role in town planning, so I assumed that the process had been both methodical and dull. We had also been told that once we entered the town we’d have to stop at a checkpoint and get permission to pass through to the campus. This was new; getting to Public had never been like this before. Sip had told me a story of the time, early in their Public careers, when she and Charlotte had walked through the woods to get to school and were attacked by demons.

“How’d you fight them off?” I asked.

Sip sort of scuffed her foot in the dirt. “Well, there were six of them, and at the time it was just easier to have Lisabelle deal with them. Not that I couldn’t have, of course.”

“Right, not that she couldn’t have,” Lisabelle smirked. “I had gone to meet them knowing they’d need my help, and sure enough, they did.”

“Personally, I was glad we had a welcoming committee that consisted of more than a pack of demons,” said Charlotte. “It wasn’t the best way to return to campus.”

I wasn’t sure what the stages of inspection at the checkpoint were going to look like, but I felt nervous about them, because I knew that security around Public was very tight. Who would be conducting the inspections? How would they confirm my identity? Would they just go over, grab Sip, the president of all the paranormals, and say, “Know this guy? Okay, cool.” I had a feeling it wouldn’t work like that. Rings had worked as identifiers for the longest time, but younger paranormals didn’t have them, nor did the paranormal strange, like Keegan. Keegan refused to wear any ring at all on the off chance that it would be taken over and used against him. He said his mother rolled her eyes at such suggestions, but he thought the risks were real. He had told me about a conversation with his mom in which he had said, “I am not a pawn. If the Power of Five can’t be used against us any more, they’ll find another way.”

“There is no they!” his mother had cried, exasperated. “‘They’ is now Lisabelle Verlans, and she’s on our side!”

“That’s what they want you to think,” said Keegan, shaking his head. “We aren’t safe. If we were safe we wouldn’t have to hide in trees and we wouldn’t have been attacked by a bunch of bats. They’re coming. It’s only a matter of time.”

Obviously Mrs. Webber wanted to hear none of this, but she kept her cool. Keegan didn’t drive his mother crazy, because she was his mother, but pretty much everyone else, like Dacer and Zellie and my sister, got annoyed with his questions and pronouncements of doom.

“If you know so much, why don’t you go apprentice with Lisabelle Verlans!” Dacer had cried after one particularly vexing conversation the day before we were due to leave for Public.

“Are you trying to get him killed?” Zellie demanded, appalled.

“Maybe,” Dacer had shot back. “At least then I’d get fewer headaches.”

“Does Lisabelle Verlans take interns?” Keegan actually sounded curious. He thought Lisabelle was the most amazing thing ever. Of course, he wasn’t alone in that. Many paranormals thought she was amazingly scary, but I wouldn’t have put it past Keegan to go after an internship with her if there had been one on offer.

The Duke gave him a glare. “Of course she doesn’t. What would be the point? No one can do what she does, no matter how much they learn about it. There is no emulating her.”

Keegan’s shoulders slumped, but only for a minute. “I guess that’s true, but if she ever changes her mind you’ll tell me, right?”

“As a matter of fact I can promise you that I’d do the exact opposite,” said Dacer, glancing at his cousin and the death stare she was giving him. It seemed as if Zellie, for some unknown reason, did in fact care whether Keegan lived or died, and was willing to threaten Dacer about it.

Keegan, for his part, was satisfied with that answer, though I had a feeling that he would keep his ears perked for internship information, and if he heard about it on his own he wouldn’t hesitate to apply . . . whatever that would entail.

Bringing the conversation back to our journey, which is what we were supposed to be discussing, I asked, “What’s the first checkpoint?”

Dacer had said he wasn’t coming with us, for which both Keegan and I were grateful. He was technically a professor, and it wouldn’t look good for two students to show up with a professor acting as a babysitter. We wanted to make a good impression, and looking like we were being coddled wasn’t it. Dacer also never mentioned the stick or Zellie again. I thought about asking him, but when I imagined his response to be to pick up a glitter-handled axe and chop my head off, I decided not to.

We also both felt weird around Zellie. She had apologized and been horrified up and down about the incident in the nighttime, and of course we had forgiven her, but it’s nothing like a paranormal trying to kill you to make you wary of her. The Duke didn’t attempt to explain what had happened that night, neither the attack in the woods nor the one inside the castle. I would just have to wait for my answers, again. Dacer might not have explained anything, but he did start spending all of his free time shoring up the Duckleworth’s existing fortifications. He promised that nothing like that would happen again.

“The checkpoint at the gate to Public will require your new Through Ports,” said Dacer. “It’s a pilot program that’s being tested only on college students to see how it works. It’s kind of like the human driver’s license or passport,” he explained, when both Keegan and I looked at him with a dull expression.

“We don’t have Through Ports, though,” I said. “Also, I happen to have a driver’s license. Couldn’t I just use that?” Charlotte had felt so guilty about all the things I had been through with the Nocturn War that she had taught me how to drive AND helped me get a license. She didn’t have a car, however, and no one would let me borrow one after she had finished teaching me, but I still felt good about having the skill. Once we sold the Maine house I wasn’t sure what address I could use for place of residence, but that was a long way off.

Dacer looked aghast and said, lifting his nose in disapproval, “We do not need human inventions to assist us, thank you very much.”

Keegan rolled his eyes. “That’s fine with me. My mom won’t let me get a driver’s license anyway, although I guess I have a passport. We used human travel as a way of blending in. Flying across the ocean on a broom would take a long time.”

“Among other problems,” Dacer drawled.

“Where do we get our Through Ports?” I asked, thinking we might be returning to Sip’s offices sooner than I’d expected.

“Well, we would be going there,” said Dacer, reading my expression, “but since they were attacked it isn’t allowed. Only those who have to be there, essential personnel, are welcome nowadays.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to do without these Through Ports then,” said Keegan, shrugging. Keegan hated red tape. Given that he had spent years on the run, he thought that being identified was about the worst thing in the world, and having to carry around documentation of who you were, beyond what some paranormals had to do with their rings, was tantamount to insanity.

“As a matter of fact, you are still getting Through Ports. It’s all been arranged,” said Dacer, smiling broadly. “And just think, everyone knows Lisabelle Verlans doesn’t even mind,” said Dacer.

“She doesn’t mind because she’s a badass,” said Keegan. “I’m not laboring under any delusions about my badassery. If everyone knew who I was because I could beat them, I’d be fine with the Through Port too.”

Dacer chuckled. “Be ready to go tomorrow morning,” he said. “You’ll be getting your Through Ports along the way.”

“Great,” muttered Keegan.

“Oh, and one other thing,” said Dacer, ignoring Keegan and handing us a memo that had been printed on official Paranormal Public stationery. “This has been sent to all the students who are starting at Public this fall.” I couldn’t read Dacer’s facial expression very well, but I had the vague idea he wasn’t pleased. Keegan and I bent our heads together to read.

Dear Students,

This letter is for clarification purposes only. We, the managing board at Paranormal Public, want it understood that students are to behave in a manner in keeping with attendance at the best and brightest university in the world. It is imperative that the first semester at the reborn Paranormal Public go off without the slightest hitch, and it is our great hope that students will support us in this endeavor by cooperating to the fullest. To that end we have enlisted a paranormal to advise President Valedication on all items related to protocol, in hopes that with such expert assistance, both students and faculty alike will be able to shine. No problems at Paranormal Public is the goal!

“Well, that’s a recipe for disaster,” said Keegan, looking up from the letter with a skeptical glance.

Artifacts missing: One hundred seven.

Keegan and I were sitting out on the stone terrace at Duckleworth the next morning playing with the puppies. Crumple was having a grand time as usual and was by far the puppy with the most spunk.

Keegan was allergic to dogs, but he never let something as trivial as common sense get in the way of having fun. We were whiling away our last few minutes at the castle trying to teach the dogs to fetch, but for the most part we weren’t having any luck. The morning was warm, and we had fenced in the dogs on the patio with makeshift walls that probably couldn’t have kept anything contained, let alone a rambunctious puppy. The dogs were delighted to be out of the horse stalls and free to run around. Zellie had merely cautioned us, as she had repeatedly for the past couple of weeks, that if we let one of the dogs poop on the stones, Dacer would make sure we burned for all eternity in the realms of hell. She had waggled her finger at me to warn me that not even Lisabelle would save me then.

“But she likes dogs,” I said weakly.

“Don’t lie to me,” said Zellie. “I know better. Dogs are living. She can’t possibly like them that much.” She had me there, so I stopped arguing and promised to make sure the dogs didn’t make a mess of Duke Dacer’s pretty patio while he was away.

Just as we were trying to teach the puppies how to roll over, a noise like a clogged drain sounded from behind us. I turned around and found Bertrum, Sip’s ever-frustrated personal assistant, ascending the stairs.

“Morning, Bertrum,” I said. He nodded in greeting, but his eyes quickly returned to his feet, where one of the puppies was tentatively sniffing his shoes. It was the one that was more or less Keegan’s, and he had nicknamed it Useless because it was shy and had ended up being the only one of the bunch that wouldn’t even run after balls, much less try to fetch one back to us. Sip’s assistant was having none of it; he stepped away, looking pained. The puppy, having just used up all of his bravery to crawl over to Bertrum, went back to a corner and stared out forlornly.

“He liked you,” Keegan said to Bertrum. “I would have thought you’d be happy something did.”

“Humph,” said Bertrum. “A smelly puppy was not really what I had in mind.”

“Sometimes we must take what we can get,” said Keegan, puffing out his chest slightly as Bertrum checked all around him to make sure there were no more mongrels trying to make friends. When he felt safe he stepped over our makeshift wall, keeping his hands clasped behind his back as usual.

“Glad you could come hang out,” I said to Bertrum.

Bertrum paused, then said, “I don’t hang out. Especially with children. I came to deliver important information before we depart. Is Dacer here?”

“Because as an adult he’s the only paranormal around here capable of receiving important information?” Keegan asked. “Also, we’re adults. We’re what you call young adults. Pretty sure you skipped that phase.”

“You said it, not me,” said Bertrum. “No, I just wanted to go over with him one more time what the plan is for getting Through Ports for you two, since you are currently residing at his residence.”

“You don’t think we could inform him of that?”

“You could do any number of things, but that doesn’t mean that you will,” Bertrum explained.

“You alone can deliver basic scheduling information,” said Keegan. “Gotcha.”

“Slang,” Bertrum muttered under his breath. “It must be slang.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Keegan start to tremble with the effort of not showing how funny he thought Bertrum was. His effort at concealment was aided by the fact that he was crouched down with his forearms resting on his legs to keep him balanced as he tried to teach puppies to become better puppies.

“What exactly are Through Ports?” I asked Bertrum. The paranormal seemed to do better when he was explaining something he knew a lot about, so, ignoring the dirty look Keegan sent in my direction, I decided to let him explain something, even though Dacer had already told us about the Through Ports. I also wanted to ask Bertrum about the letter we had received from Public to see if he could tell us what Sip might have thought of it. The tone certainly hadn’t been hers, and I wasn’t worried that she’d had anything to do with writing it, but this was college. How could they possibly expect nothing to go wrong? For the moment, I decided to go with the safer of the two topics rather than the one that would probably just get me in trouble.

“Through Ports, or TPs, are a new form of identification that is being tested using the college students at Paranormal Public,” said Bertrum, sounding unimpressed. His tone might have been due to his topic, but it was just as likely to have been because of his audience.

We were, or at least I was, pretending interest in what Sip’s aide was saying, but even thus encouraged, Bertrum had very little use for us and even less patience. He tolerated us, if that’s what you could call it, because he knew Sip cared, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to speak to us if we were the last paranormals left on the planet. Right now he looked back and forth between the two of us, letting his disappointment show. “Truly, stone is more engaging.” Apparently we weren’t doing a very good job of faking interest.

“Go talk to a stone then,” Keegan muttered. He liked Sip’s assistant about as much as her assistant liked him.

“Rake is arriving shortly to accompany you to the TP office and then to campus. You should cross paths with many other students while you’re presenting yourselves.” His lip somehow turned up slightly, even as the rest of his face remained unchanged. It was as if he’d just been forced to lick a lemon, and now he regretted it. “I should add that I will also be accompanying you and Rake to the TP office.”

“Nothing in the world would make me happier,” said Keegan dryly. “Except for all of the things I can think of that would make me happier.” Bertrum glared at the tree sprite, but Keegan wasn’t finished. “When we’re done at the office, do we get stickers and lollipops if we’ve been good?”

“You get to not get a swift kick to the arse,” Bertrum huffed, finally goaded into replacing his usual stiff formality with slang.

Even though, or perhaps because, Bertrum was Sip’s personal assistant, Lisabelle hated him, which for Bertrum, even if he didn’t know it, was all the job security he could ask for. Sip would have kept him around just to annoy her best friend even if he hadn’t been useful to her in a hundred other ways.

I had the distinct impression that he used to fight against his fate – working for an unruly president with a dangerous best friend, not to mention the motley rest of the crew his employer ran with. But recently I had been getting a different impression: Bertrum had apparently concluded that sacrifices must be made for the sake of the paranormal world, and it just so happened that working for the Quest presidency was one such sacrifice, one that he himself could make. For the good of all paranormals, he had decided to sacrifice the sort of plush private sector job he could have had given his education and intelligence in exchange for the greatest paranormal good. Specifically, that included putting up with Sip’s mad demands and the mad state of the paranormal world at this time. It also meant that he talked to me a lot, a fact that I think both of us regretted.

Sometimes I felt sure I could measure his steely interior by how ramrod straight he kept his back. It didn’t matter how put upon he was, he would never let the sagging of his spirits show in his posture. If Sip didn’t sag, neither did he, no matter how much Lisabelle taunted him or sent him on mysterious or useless errands trying to get him fired.

After the conversation died out, Bertrum stood staring at his watch while he absently drummed his toes on the stones to an imaginary beat. But Rake arrived precisely on time, nodded and smiled at Bertrum, then moved to shake first Keegan’s hand and then mine. The sharp wind carried away Bertrum’s gusty sigh.

My return to Paranormal Public had begun.