Read Elemental Omen (Paranormal Public Book 10) Online
Authors: Maddy Edwards
Elemental Omen (Paranormal Public Book 10)
Elemental Omen
(Paranormal Public, Book X)
by
Maddy Edwards
Copyright © 2015 by Maddy Edwards
Cover Design © K.C. Designs
This novel is a work of fiction in which names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is completely coincidental.
License Notes
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Table of Contents
Paranormal Public University is, as the name suggests, a school for college-aged paranormals who need to learn their specific paranormal craft. Along the way, we also hope to teach them about their peers in a supportive and constructive environment. We are all working together here. Paranormal Public has six dorms: Airlee, Astra, Aurum, Volans, Cruor, and Strange. These dorms are where young minds are formed.
The dorms are broken up as follows: Airlee dorms werewolves, dream givers, and the occasional darkness mage. Astra is the home of the elementals, both of individual type and those who encompass all four types (rarer). Aurum is for fallen angels, Volans, pixies, Cruor, and vampires. The final dorm welcomes the Strange, Oggles, Faeries, tree sprites, the occasional dragon, Water Sprites, and any other paranormal who does not fit neatly into one of the other categories but who possesses magical ability and a desire to learn.
For as long as we can remember there have been elementals. Other forms of paranormal ability built up over time around the elementals, and of that variety Public was born. In the meantime, a paranormal darkness has risen. This darkness has never been controlled or shaped, and despite the best and most fervent efforts of each successive paranormal government we have failed to contain the darkness.
Until now. The Darkness Premier, as she is known for her strict control over all that is night, has collared the darkness and maintained a truce with the paranormals for the last three years.
Unfortunately, this truce came at an exceptionally high cost. As all of those reading this missive know, there was a Nocturn War several years ago in which many paranormals lost their lives. The culminating battle took place at our very own Paranormal Public.
This destruction, coupled with the severe loss of life during the war and the final battle, closed the school for the past three years. Since then, nothing has been the same.
These three years have brought many adventures in the paranormal world. The Rapier Vampires have solidified their power base and are now the unquestioned leaders in the Cruor world. Sipythia Quest has maintained an uneasy presidency against nearly insurmountable odds. The Fallen Angels have recovered to become excellent medics to the many paranormals in need, but they have also been without a leader since the end of the war. Lisabelle Verlans continues to maintain a peace with the paranormals, at a very high cost to herself. It is my belief that she will continue this practice so long as there is a Quest Government.
Both of the known living elementals continue to thrive.
This is the good side of the accounts, but the war had many costs, not all of them immediately known.
The paranormal government has limited resources, and since the Nocturn War those resources have been concentrated on rebuilding and helping paranormals with the costs of battle and death. It is necessary to pay those costs, but the Quest government has its limits, and there is only so much the administration can do. At this point, government resources are stressed to the limit and there are still paranormals in need of help.
The second major consequence of that concentration on helping paranormals is that magical advances have come to an absolute standstill. For many years, some paranormals have dedicated their lives to research and to advancing the paranormal cause. Since the start of the Nocturn War those efforts have been stunted or halted. The problem is that there are still those who dedicate themselves to such advancements, and they do not necessarily have the paranormals’ best interests at heart.
The last major consequence is the paranormal government’s “relationship” with darkness. There is a good chance that the ascension of Lisabelle Verlans, the most powerful paranormal alive, to the role of Darkness Premier, coupled with her history with President Quest, among other powerful paranormals, is putting the paranormals in a difficult position by exposing us to darkness.
These are difficult times, with no end in view. We must create our own sunrise. We must bring the light through the darkness. By smashing a hole in the fabric of night, we will help the day shine out. We can only do that through the education of young paranormals. We must teach our children, our brightest minds and our greatest hope, how to fight. The best place for such lessons is in school, and the greatest school in the world is Paranormal Public University.
I choose to stand on the front line of this new chapter. I choose to lead the light into future years. Choose to stand with me.
Sincerely Yours,
Dobrov Valedication
Newly Appointed President of Paranormal Public University
Although I avoided paranormals whenever possible, I could feel disquiet and fear permeating the ones I passed. The layers of problems they were facing were only increasing. A flinch, unease - these were the emotions I was met with. Open and kind never came across. The long hoped for and expected peace had not come. Battles, pain, and lawlessness still plagued the paranormal world. In fact, with the paranormal government so weak, it was all getting worse.
Many priceless artifacts were going missing. Many of the artifacts that might have been used to protect the remaining paranormal structures were unaccounted for or had been destroyed.
I watched it all silently and from a distance. I had thought that once I left I would stop caring, that the curiosity that beat inside me would subside. But it hadn’t. I searched hungrily for news and stormed away when I couldn’t find it. When I did come across some useful information, I was overjoyed. If Bounty Hunters had come upon me in such a moment, they would have taken me, for I would have been caught unawares.
I rested wherever I could and read the news. It might be in a café, in a park, or alone in some dark forest with only the critters both big and small to keep me company.
No matter what the news said, I took it with a salt mine’s worth of skepticism. I didn’t trust any of the news outlets, and I didn’t trust the information that the powers that be let out to the paranormal world to be soaked up by panicking werewolves, fairies, pixies, vampires, and the rest.
This latest news was a distraction that made me run my fingers through my hair with a sigh. The government had tried to crack down on the Bounty Hunters, and it hadn’t worked. Now they were surging, taking as many paranormals who would earn them any money as possible, and selling them for who knew how much.
The only way I had avoided capture as long as I had was by being vigilant. There was a list of names of the paranormals who were most sought after. Some were laughable; they belonged to paranormals who would never be caught. Others were more serious and had me worried. This was the first time they had printed a list of which paranormals the Bounty Hunters were going after hard core.
The Bounty Hunters were growing in strength and power, and in boldness. Neither could be allowed to continue. Maybe the powers that be were too tolerant of the insolence; in fact, I was sure they were, not that I was going to tell them so. At this point I wasn’t sure they’d listen to me anyway, they’d been that angry when I left. Sure, it was poor timing, but I had figured out that it would never be good timing.
In fact, there was a very good chance that nothing would ever be good again.
Peace and quiet. I took a long breath and looked around. Some people liked the hustle and bustle of a social life, the busy city moving and unsettled. I didn’t know what kind of person I was or what I liked, because for a long time my life had not been about that. For a long time I had sought solitude and silence, not because I loved it so much but because it was the best thing for me. I was young, many said too young, for any sort of responsibility, but that was neither here nor there anymore. I did what I had to do to survive, to help the paranormals survive. Now, the darkness was a net that caught peace and quiet and crumpled it to death. There was no safety, night or day.
The night felt spiky and alive, and I shrugged my shoulders deeper into my jacket. I liked to walk at night. I liked to see normal humans going about their lives. They had small, reasonable goals, like find dinner, live until the next day. They did not have to deal with massive questions of the universe, with magical workings that hampered quiet existence. When I first set out on my solitary journey, I liked to watch farmers. Their days were the same, one after another. They had to get a certain amount of work done or their crops would wither, their animals die, milk go to waste. I loved the idea and hated the fact that that life would never be mine. Some people chased fame. I ran away from it. I ran so far I left behind everything I had ever known, looking for peace.
Here on the outskirts of the city, the streets were made of cracked cobblestone. The buildings were dirty; it was many years since they had been fine and new. Now their roofs leaked, their walls threatened to collapse, and the doors were old, bent, and broken.
There were only a few brave souls out at this time of night. I did not consider myself one of them, since I knew that the things I had to fear would come for me whether I stayed indoors or not. Still, I had protections at home that I didn’t have when I went out, so I tried to be careful. I tried to make every excursion count. I had learned that if I didn’t take an interest in others, they didn’t take an interest in me. We all had secrets, my sister had explained. That could be to our advantage. If you promise to keep someone else’s secret, it will take longer for them to discover yours.
When I went walking it was always in search of some particular thing. I carried a supply of everything I might need so I wouldn’t be caught short. Most of my needs were simple; they included Graydark oil for concealment and helm hart for healing, since I dwelt in places where the fallen angels wouldn’t go.
Luckily, it had been a long time since I had had to use my helm hart. The potions wore off over time, but I figured I still had a couple of weeks before I needed more. The Graydark was different; I was always on the lookout for a new supply. Sometimes normal human beauty shops sold a combination that contained it, and they had no idea. They told you to put it in your bath or some such nonsense, not having the remotest clue that it would conceal you from paranormal Hunters.
I didn’t like to visit the paranormal Black Market. Not only was it teeming with evil and spies, but their Graydark was usually subpar. They didn’t think anyone shopping there was looking for anything special. They didn’t think those who frequented places like theirs had quality on their mind. But I minded. I wanted the very best Graydark in the world. My adopted aunt had taught me the difference between real and imitation, and I refused to go back to the fake stuff.
To make matters worse, every Bounty Hunter would have given all his teeth to get me under his power. There was no way I was going to make that easier by walking into a Black Market, the kind of place where Bounty Hunters had free rein. Being on the top of the sought after list does that to you. I might as well just wave my arms and yell, “Here I am!”
Besides Graydark, I normally looked for food and news when I left my hiding place. I wasn’t picky about the former, and the latter was usually depressing. Sometimes it was just good to remind myself that I was alive, that others were alive, and that the world still turned on its axis.
Now, in the slums of yet another city, I moved. It was late at night, around three a.m., and I had just gotten started with my “day.” For a long time I thought moving around at night was more dangerous, because there were fewer people to get lost in, but I soon realized that between my eyes and the ring I wore (dirty, so as to cover it up and hide what it truly was), it was the only time of day I could move safely.
“Hey, watch it.” A gruff voice chastised me as I walked down the alley, and a man with a cloak and a cane stumped past. An apology stuck in my throat. I would not speak. I kept walking, heading back toward home. There were groceries to put away, after all. I looked affectionately at the bag in my left hand.
I was only a few blocks from home when I heard an ooof and a cry. Usually I stayed out of any shakedowns in the neighborhood, since keeping a low profile was easier if I refrained from going around beating up ruffians. But this time one of the voices seemed familiar, so I couldn’t stay out of it. I hurried toward the noise, and as I moved I heard two more punches, and pleading. As I rounded the last corner I saw four guys. None of them were very big, and they all looked in desperate need of a shower and a haircut. Two of them were holding a girl between them, her head already hanging low. She was big for a girl, probably five feet ten and bony, and her thick red hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. At the moment her head hung forward, and even as I looked on, the guy doing the hitting pulled his fist back, ready to hit her in the stomach for a third time.
Without thinking I raced forward. “Hey!” I called out, pulling my hood back so the guys could see my face. The air stuck around me, neither hot nor cold. I wished it were cold. Violence was more vivid in ice than in thick, muggy air.
Fist Number One paused mid-swing to look at me. “Stay out of this,” he said through gritted teeth. “It isn’t your concern.” He talked tough, but he looked just a little less certain already; he had not expected to be challenged. The girl raised her head and gave me a weak smile.
“You missed my fight tonight,” she said, her eyes burning, her lip drizzling blood.
“Clearly not,” I said curtly. I kept my eyes on the guys, but I knew that made her smile and then wince. “Incidentally,” I added, “you have no idea what is and isn’t my concern.”
“She owes us money,” said Fist One. “We don’t want no trouble, but you know how it is. You also know you’re supposed to stay out of stuff like this.” His voice sounded a little more threatening, but it still lacked the confidence he would have felt if his whole gang had been there.
“And usually I do,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets so he would think I wasn’t ready to fight. He didn’t know magic existed.
“But tonight?” prompted the fourth guy. He’d stayed a little in the shadows. He wasn’t doing the holding or the hitting, and I couldn’t really see his face; I only knew that he gave me the creeps.
“She’s a friend of mine,” I said. “Besides, you really need four guys to beat up a girl?”
“Hell yeah they do,” she said through her bruised face.
The two guys holding her looked uncomfortable at that, as if I’d pointed out something they had already been thinking.
“If we let her go, what will you give us?” Fourth Guy asked.
“Joice! Nothing,” the girl started to yell, but the guys holding her shook her violently and she shut up. I closed my mouth and looked at them, letting my anger do the talking. Do that one more time, I thought. Just one more time.
“We could fight this out,” I offered. For someone watching from the outside, that might have looked like an empty threat; there were four of them, after all. But it was a little trick I used when I first got to a new town: I simply made it clear that I was not to be messed with. Having already done the groundwork here, I knew bloody well that these gang members would run scared before they picked a fight with me.
Fist One glared. “We can take you. Just because you took out the entire Blue Gang doesn’t mean we can’t take you.”
“Shut up,” hissed Fourth Guy, his eyes never leaving my face. He was looking for any sign of fear, any sign that attacking me was a good idea, or that the story about the blue gang wasn’t true. I remained expressionless.