Elemental Omen (Paranormal Public Book 10) (10 page)

“Let’s go,” said the Executioner, and he grabbed me by the back of my neck to haul me away.

All around us there were cries of anger and lots of yelling; I saw one man grab another and bash his head into a rock. The injured man got up with the rock in his hands and bashed his attacker in the face. Pure chaos reined, and in the midst of it, we started to get away.

It all happened so fast that I could barely grasp what was going on, but then, suddenly, everything slowed and time rolled. I felt the whirl of wind and the pull of darkness. The sun disappeared as a black night enveloped the chaotic scene. The darkness was so thick that I could see very little, but sounds weren’t muffled; all around us I could hear screams and yelling.

The shift came with the next breath. The crowd backed away and the Executioner and his henchmen came to a halt, ironically, right near the Appraiser. The three of them had formed a sort of circle around me, and each one of them now held out a ring or a sword or some other weapon. I looked all around, but I could see nothing that would account for the sudden change in mood.

The frantic crowd at last fell silent, and in the sudden stillness I heard a whizzing sound. In the next instant something burst through the night sky, as if one firework and then many had lit up the world. I closed my eyes as the people near us gasped. No one moved; everyone simply stared upward in wonder.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Appraiser screamed. He was fat and round, and when he yelled, his whole belly flopped. He stomped forward waving his arms and the crowd stepped back. They had been through a lot that day and they didn’t see any good coming out of the Appraiser’s rage.

“Who is doing that?” Three more purple fireworks. “I demand to know!”

He turned to me and glared. “Is it you?” he hissed. He held a short sword, I thought rather like a pirate’s - not that I had ever met one of those - and he was now pointing it at me. I shook my head. It really wasn’t me. It was far worse than me. I nearly smiled.

“You cannot fight me and win!” he screamed into the darkness, whirling around again like a madman yelling at the wind. “I will sell this elemental and retire to the tropics! You want him? You must go through me!”

For a split second nothing happened; it felt like the crowd was holding its breath as the Executioner kept a painful grip on my neck. I tried to stay still so as to not make it worse.

Then the wind stopped. The fireworks stopped. The world felt like it settled a little. Only the nighttime darkness stayed the same.

“What sort of fight are we talking about?” asked a dry voice that I knew incredibly well but had never dreamed I would hear in this forlorn place. My face split into an involuntary grin as a tall hooded figure stepped through the crowd and stopped in front of the Appraiser. Paranormals scattered, tumbling and clawing over each other to get away. They were like rats placed suddenly in a cage with a dragon. The hood remained in place as the Appraiser turned his anger on the new target, while the Executioner let go of my neck and he and his minions melted into the night.

“Who do you think you are!” sputtered the Appraiser. “You must have a death wish, for death is what will happen to you now that you have crossed me! Guards, take him!”

Three massive guards, including the guy who had kept watch over my cage through the night, came forward. I watched with a sort of strange fascination as the figure didn’t move.

She didn’t even raise her hand.

The three guards - tall, burly men every one of them - went flying backward as the crowd oohed and made space for the bodies to plunge through the air. I turned to watch but I had to wince as my movement made the Executioner’s grip tighten all the more.

I caught a glimpse, I heard one thud, then another, then a third.

“They must have gone at least thirty feet,” whispered someone in the crowd.

“They won’t be getting up anytime soon,” another spectator added.

The Appraiser turned his beady eyes to the hooded figure. “What sort of witchcraft is this?” he whispered.

But the wisp of uncertainty didn’t last long.

“Guards!” He motioned for another set of three to come forward. They did what they were told, but they all looked like they were bracing themselves. In fact, they didn’t even get as far as the first three before the hooded figure also sent them flying. Gasps and even a few cheers rose up from the crowd as each of the guards slammed backward onto the ground.

Madly undaunted, the Appraiser tried to get another three to come forward. When no one responded, he turned in a circle as if to assess his forces. The first six guards had been tossed into the air like trash being thrown away, and most of the rest were slipping into the anonymity of the crowd. The ones who had stayed in their rough ranks didn’t move; one of the Bounty Hunters to my right was visibly trembling.

“Who are you?” the Appraiser whispered to the figure again as she stood motionless and silent.

The figure didn’t respond or raise her head.

“Very well,” said the Appraiser. “I will do this myself.” He paused as if to collect his courage and again demanded, “Who are you?” When he still didn’t get an answer, he moved close enough to see under the hood, and then - I could see it even in the near-dark - he paled. One more time he looked at me, but it was as if his eyes weren’t telling his brain anything useful any more.

“I really wouldn’t, if I were you,” I told him. I didn’t say it for his benefit, but he didn’t need to know that.

“She’s trying to take my treasure for herself,” he spat. “I won’t let her.”

“It’s not for her,” I said, but when I didn’t elaborate, the squishy man turned around to glare at the cloaked figure.

“You will pay for ruining my auction,” he hissed. “You will pay dearly.”

He lunged and I saw a flash. Something like a cane, or a very long stick, appeared in the cloaked figure’s hand. The stick was black, but adorned with jewels the color of ice. It flashed once and the Appraiser’s sword went flying, another flash and the man fell to his knees. Before anyone could blink, the cloaked figure was on him. He looked up and his expression changed. The abject terror that distorted his face wasn’t a sight I would ever forget. I looked around for the cloaked vampire to see how he was reacting to all this, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Mine,” she said, pointing at me.

“Uh oh uhh,” was all he managed to get out.

I couldn’t help it. “I told you so.”

“That’s enough,” came another familiar voice that made me smile outright. The little hands that had untied me were explained. This time when I looked for the speaker I couldn’t see her, but I saw the crowd, still a little confused and jeering, start to part. Eventually another cloaked figure, much shorter than the first one, came into the cleared circle.

“Hey, look here now, you can’t just disrupt the market and be on your way. That kid is worth his weight in gold,” said one grizzled-looking man, stepping forward. He was obviously more clan than Bounty Hunter, and he, like most of the rest of them, looked hungry. But he hadn’t yet seen what the Appraiser had seen, nor had he noticed who had just moved through the crowd.

Sipythia Quest, president of the paranormal world, removed her hood. Gasps went up around the group as paranormals realized who she was, while her purple eyes scanned the faces that stood before her. Some people even fell to their knees, and whispers of her name went around the open square.

Sip was legendary. As the youngest president in paranormal history she was known far and wide to be fair, nerdy, and entirely devoted to three things: 1) justice, 2) her friends and family, and 3) a good cup of tea.

“Are you alright?” she asked me.

I nodded. “I’ve never been so happy to be owned in my life.”

Sip smiled a little to acknowledge my weak attempt at humor.

“They just said he was a dream giver,” cried one woman. “They didn’t say he was Ricky Rollins.” My own name sounded strange to my ears. “We’d have left him ‘lone if any’d said that!” I saw several others nodding with her.

The hooded figure, who had long since stopped bothering to stand menacingly over the Appraiser, turned toward the woman who had spoken. Lisabelle Verlans, the Premier of All Darkness, reached up heavily tattooed hands and pushed back her own hood. Her black hair was in an elaborate, plaited braid, and her black eyes burned in her pale face.

The first time I had ever seen Lisabelle Verlans was the first time I knew that magic was real. My sister would still take a precious long time to admit as much to me, but Lisabelle’s magic was not something that could be hidden. She brought with her a sparkling black power that radiated out of her in violent waves; there was a barely leashed explosion happening behind her eyes at all times. And I knew that she and her two best friends had paid dearly for whatever leash she did have. Lisabelle Verlans was, quite literally, pure magic.

At the moment, in the dim light of the Black Market, she was glaring at me. I was sure she didn’t appreciate my dumbfounded expression. “Yes, we knew where you were and yes, it is so very shocking that you do not know everything. I know. Like, whoa.” She made a big show of rolling her eyes.

If Sip’s presence had caused shock once the crowd recognized her, the sight of Lisabelle Verlans caused a sort of still panic. Lisabelle was feared far and wide. Wherever the wind blew, over valleys and around mountains, caressing sea and streams alike, Lisabelle was feared. There was the tiniest chance that Sip showing herself first had saved several paranormals from having heart attacks, since the friends were known to travel together, but imagining an inkling of a chance that the famous Lisabelle Verlans would be there and having her actually standing in front of everyone in all her angry, dark glory were two different things.

“It’s Lisabelle Verlans!” shouted a voice in the crowd.

“It’s the darkness premier!” another voice cried.

“It’s the most powerful mage in history,” said a third. When the cries subsided, a ringing shock pierced the momentary stillness. As if on cue, many of the clansmen - at least, the ones who hadn’t already - fell to their knees. Lisabelle looked around the massive group as if she was used to this. On the ground, still at Lisabelle’s feet, the Appraiser stopped even breathing. If he kept it up he’d soon lose consciousness from lack of oxygen, but that would probably be better for him anyhow.

“This shouldn’t be a surprise,” said Lisabelle, continuing her history since birth of having no sympathy. “You kidnapped the little brother of a Paranormal Public professor, who also happens to be the second-to-last living elemental. You’re surprised I’m pissed off? Sometimes I understand a surprised reaction. Not in this case. While we’re sharing our feelings, I’m surprised you aren’t all dead.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sip start to tell Lisabelle that wasn’t a feeling, but then the little werewolf thought better of it. Back in the day, Sip would have reined her in. But back in the day, their best friend’s baby brother wasn’t about to be sold.

“Do you want to hear the list of paranormals who tried to kill Ricky, with the corresponding descriptions of what I did to them?” Lisabelle braced her hands on her hips. “I think not.”

Getting no reply, and expecting none, she turned her attention away from the crowd and looked at me. “That must be your ‘I’m happy to see you and so grateful’ face,” she said. “I’d work on it if I were you.”

“You’re joking, but that’s about the expression
you
have right now,” said Sip, coming to my defense.

“And you think it means I’m happy to see you two?” Lisabelle asked slyly.

“Lisabelle’s just mad that she’s running into someone so like herself,” said Sip with a glance my way. The werewolf’s purple eyes burned with a light I didn’t remember seeing in them before. She had seen too much, been through too much. She was harder, faster, and more ruthless. But just as I was thinking she had changed, Lisabelle produced a flagon from within the folds of her voluminous cloak and handed it to Sip, who said, “Oh, look, tea!” If she had changed, she was also still exactly the same Sip. It was a paradox it would take me a long time to understand.

“I brought that all the way from Darkness, so you’d better appreciate it,” said Lisabelle, unmoving.

“We were going to save Ricky’s life and you stopped to make me tea?” Sip’s lower lip trembled.

At this reminder of the bond between the friends, I couldn’t help but think of my sister. I had maybe expected Charlotte to butt in as I traveled, but not these two, and especially not Sip. Lisabelle and I had met early on in my sister’s college career, and I had always felt a special bond with her. She had come to save my life while risking her own at a time when, if she hadn’t, I would surely have died. Sip had always been a little more of a mystery. To the outside world she was not harsher or colder, but there was something about her that I had always felt as a barrier between us.

Yet she was here with Lisabelle.

“Well don’t go being ridiculous and taking it as a sign of affection. Besides, I’ve saved Ricky’s life so many times it’s getting old. On top of that, it’s not as if these trolls would be able to harm him.” Lisabelle pierced me with a dark glare, and for the first time I started to feel guilty. I hung my head.

“I’m sorry,” I said. The full weight of what it must have taken for them to reach me settled over my shoulders.