Elemental Shining (Paranormal Public Series) (24 page)

Mrs. Swan shook her head. “No, it’s the same man. We have seen him from the back. He’s a big and strong man and the same every time. The E has also been analyzed and found to be consistent.

“What else has he stolen?”

“Lots of things. Money, jewels, artifacts. He collects mirrors. It’s very strange, but he will steal a mirror that isn’t worth nearly as much as some important book that it’s lying next to. He always takes them, regardless of what the rest of us think they’re worth. Some say it’s for a lady friend, but I don’t believe it. I think there’s something more fundamental there.”

“Why?”

“Some think it’s because he’s looking for the Mirror Arcane, but that mirror is just a myth. However, his taking the Map Silver supports that theory. If there is a Mirror Arcane he has a better chance of finding it now.”

“He stole something that was lost to find something else that was lost?” I mused. “What does this mirror do?” I asked.

Mrs. Swan busied herself by folding and re-folding a napkin in her lap. “Don’t you worry about it dear, it’s just a myth.”

I didn’t ask any more questions, but I was most definitely going to find out about the Mirror Arcane.

 “Risper went after him. Again. Why is this time different? Elam’s been stealing stuff for years.”

Mrs. Swan nodded. “I’m not entirely sure why. The Map is very important. It was supposed to be secure, of course, but were it to fall into the hands of Malle. . . . I hate to think what could happen. Now, I have things to do for the day. Read up and eat breakfast. I’m sure you have a lot of studying to do yourself.”

Did I ever. I was already drowning in homework and it was just my first week of classes.

I grabbed another piece of toast and started to read. A lot of the Tabble was boring. There were long lists of government actions for that week, as well as Dash scores from around the world. Smaller updates included job listings at different paranormal universities and accidents that had happened, big and small. “Cat in tree, werewolf tries to climb up and save it. Werewolf gets nose scratched.” I’d have to show Sip that one, I thought, amused.

On the last part of the parchment I found what I was looking for, a long letter from Mound. He had started putting letters in a few days ago, but I hadn’t realized it until yesterday. Now, steeling myself, I started to read:

“Today, we are going to learn the history of one of the most evil paranormals ever to grace the halls of Public. I am sure you all know who I am talking about at this point. President Malle, obviously. She has reached a level of terror, death, and destruction that was previously only dreamed about by paranormals. She has killed, murdered, stolen, and conspired with the paranormals’ worst enemy, the demons. Even worse, now many darkness mages who were related to her in one way or another are shifting over to the side of the Knights of Darkness.

“She completed the first phase of her plan to eradicate the world of paranormals when she murdered the elementals. It was just through incredible luck that one survived.”

I stiffened, as I always did when my fate was addressed publicly. I also wondered in the vaguest sort of way how much luck had been involved, or whether instead my family had very carefully planned to protect me, and protect me they had, at the cost of their own lives.

I remembered something Jenkins had said to me in A History of Death. “President Malle’s biggest regret, issue, and obstacle at this point is that Charlotte Rollins is alive and well. There are some who would say that Ms. Rollins is doing more harm than good, but that is obviously untrue. Ms. Rollins is our only hope, and every second she breathes is a second we are still fighting. As paranormals we must fight for her, as she is fighting for us. There is no one more deserving of respect.”

Once I finished reading the letter from Mound I found myself regretting it. I had never read anything so vitriolic and nasty. It went like this:

“The disgusting waste of life that is known as the last elemental of the paranormal kind resides in luxury, on the college’s dime, in Astra Dorm. I have never been so appalled by anything as I am by the duping that my fellow paranormals must have undergone to have let this happen. Who that girl must have bribed, or worse, to get into the position she now enjoys is a mind-boggling question. I hope she slips, falls, and rots to death. This is not an exaggeration. If she can sit there all high and mighty while other paranormals suffer, then she deserves the worst sort of consequence—read death—imaginable. If she is not dead by the end of the semester I will do the deed myself. I urge other paranormals to follow me in our effort to rid ourselves of the black plague known as the elemental.

“The most recent example of an attack by the Knights of Darkness is this. It involves the actions of their despicable hellhounds. Three werewolves were heading home after a long weekend spent under the full moon. They were in the forest, far away from where any humans might have encountered them. Their families knew of their whereabouts, because it was a common practice to visit this part of the sparsely populated woods during the full moon. They never made it home, but what happened is not up for debate.

“They were torn to pieces. We know, because we found every body part, every limb and every finger. Six eyeballs rotting on the ground in pools of dried blood and smelling of decay. There were hellhound prints everywhere, proving that the hellhounds, surely on the orders of President Malle, killed the three young and innocent werewolves.

“This despicable action is the fault of several parties, but none more than the elemental known as Charlotte Rollins. She, and she alone, could have stopped this unspeakable evil from befalling three werewolves who had their entire lives ahead of them. Instead, she chose to sit back in her ivory tower and salaciously date a fallen angel. Pray tell, does she not realize there are far more important efforts to be made on behalf of the paranormals, or can she not see past her own selfishness? She spends her time with her head in the clouds, acting however she pleases, with an Erikson no less.

“My friends and colleagues, let me just say that there is no bigger shame than the one perpetuated this year. I am ashamed to call myself a graduate of Paranormal Public and I call on all of you, pixies, werewolves, vampires, and fallen angels alike, to help stop this madness. Bring the criminal known as Charlotte Rollins to justice!

“—President and Proprietor of Paranormals First, Last, and Only, Michael Mould.”

My stomach churned. Paranormals actually read this and believed it. How could he say it was all my fault? How could I not believe him too? Paranormals were dying. Even if Dacer said that I wasn’t the cause, that even if I turned myself in the deaths would continue, after reading something like that it was hard to give a hundred per cent of my belief to what Dacer said.

I felt ill. Mould was urging other paranormals to boycott me and try to kill me, and what was worse was that they were listening. Camilla’s hissy fit last night was proof of that. She believed every word that this man was saying. I didn’t even want to think about the consequences, but they weren’t going to be good.

Once I had finished with the Tabble I hurried to dress in jeans and a fleece. I was eager to find my friends and talk over the events of the first week. We had had only one other chance to talk, and a lot had happened since then. Also, of course, I wanted to know what had happened last night with Daisy.

“Hey,” said Lough, meeting me in the entryway of Airlee. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, swimmingly,” I said dryly. Getting to Airlee had been easier than I had expected. Whenever any other students saw me coming along the paths between the dorms, they skirted around me, avoiding making eye contact. Camilla wasn’t the only one who read Tabble.

“Sorry about Mound,” said Lough giving me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure no one cares.”

Just then a Starter, some tiny brown-haired girl, came out of her room holding shampoo and with a towel wrapped around her body. At the sight of me she let out a tiny yelp and darted back into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Lough’s eyes danced. “Wrong again. Come on, Sip and Lisabelle are arguing in their room.”

“For something new and different,” I said.

“Hey,” I said, following Lough into my friends’ dorm room.

“Tell Sip to give me back my monkey heart,” said Lisabelle, eyes glinting and anger etched in every line of her body.

“Gross,” I said.

“That’s what I said,” agreed Sip. “No way.”

“Fine,” said Lisabelle. “But you’ll regret it sooner or later.”

“I’ll just add it to the list,” said Sip stoutly, sitting down on her bed and wrapping her arms firmly around a pillow.

“What happened to Daisy?” I asked, sitting down in Lisabelle’s desk chair. She had painted it black since the last time I had been there, much to Sip’s dismay.

“She’s still in the infirmary, but I’m pretty sure she’s been put on probation until the end of time.”

“Is she going to get in any other trouble?” Lough asked indignantly.

“Don’t know yet,” said Lisabelle. “She scared everyone, all to win a game, but I’m not sure she did anything wrong.”

“We have such a lackadaisical view of attempted murder these days,” Sip muttered.

“Our Tactical Trial is going to be just peachy,” Lough muttered. “How could they have stuck us with three Starters?”

“I’ll tell you how,” I said grimly. “Someone out there wants the demons to get us. They want me dead.”

“Mound obviously does,” said Sip. “But that doesn’t explain the Tactical pairings. Who at Public wishes you harm?”

I thought about it, chewing my lip. Zervos was the obvious choice, but I knew he wasn’t the one. Anyhow, he never did anything so obvious; all his nefarious behavior was secretive and underhanded. Dove was also not happy with my continued presence at Public, but he too would have tried something more underhanded to get rid of me if he was going to do it at all.

“Maybe Professor Erikson?” I said at last. “She was furious yesterday when Keller and I kissed.”

“Yeah, she was. It was amazing,” said Lough. “Do you really think she’d try to get you killed?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The deans aren’t supporting me. They proved that the first night when they ordered me not to practice my powers.”

“I think she’s crazier than she looks,” said Lough, eyes grave.

“Probably,” said Lisabelle. “All the best paranormals are.” She grinned wolfishly.

“And what are we supposed to do?” Lough demanded. “Just sit here?”

Sip shrugged. “This stuff is out of our control. We practice our powers, we keep our eyes open, and we figure out a way to protect Charlotte for Tactical. That’s all we can do for now. We have classes, there’s the homecoming dance, we have a lot to do.”

“All right,” said Lough. “But those demons better keep their distance or else.”

“I can say with pretty much absolute certainty,” said Lisabelle grimly, “that the last thing they intend to do is keep their distance.”

I was so tired when I got home from the second week of Tactical that I just wanted to crawl into bed. We had lost. Badly. I had been caught early and so had Lough. Once that happened, our teammates hadn’t had a chance. I wanted to yell and scream in frustration. What were we doing with a bunch of Starters? How could we possibly survive outside the force field? It was insane. I was tired and angry.

What was worse was that A History of Death had turned into a history lesson on President Malle. Jenkins knew all kinds of stuff about the former President of Public and her history, and instead of avoiding all the questions students were shooting at him about her he had decided to answer every single one, in detail. That was all well and good, but it was hard for me to hear about the woman responsible for my mom’s death and not be upset. I had squirmed through the whole class, at once trying to catch every word and block it out entirely.