Queen of the Magnetland (The Elemental Phases Book 5) (37 page)

Unfortunately,
poisons strong enough to kill a Phase weren’t exactly sitting on grocery
shelves.  At least, Teja didn’t
think
that they were.  Her knowledge of
toxic substances was limited.  Fire Phases racked up a high body count, but
they knocked-off their victims in much more direct ways.  Hacking an enemy to
quivering bits?  Sure.  But, they’d never resort to something as impersonal as
poison
. 
And she was just too exhausted to do a lot of research on the stuff, now.  So,
poison seemed like a longshot, which was a shame.

Her
eyes stayed fixed on the funeral pyres.  There were worse ways to go.

A
doctor would know about poisons.  But, -Oh, the irony!- the Fire House’s doctor
had died from the Fall three days before.  Teja’s cousin Freya, of the Cold
House was still alive, though, and one of the foremost healers in the real. 
She’d been there trying to help Oberon at the end, although she and her
brother, Eian, hated the Fire House.

They
especially hated Teja.

Hell,
if the Cold Phase side of her family knew that Teja needed some kind of “adios
cruel world” pills, Freya would probably hand over bottles of poison with a
happy smile and wave good-bye.  Sadly, Teja just didn’t have it in her to go to
the Cold Kingdom and witness more destruction.  Not even if it meant that her
own end would be more swift and painless.

Jumping
would have to do.  Not even a Phase could survive a four story swan dive onto
the pavement.  Her skull would be shattered by the impact; her body broken
beyond repair.  Her last memories would be the rush of air on the way down and
of her grandfather’s stupid music.

That
wasn’t so bad, considering.

The
Fall was a hard death, wiping out whole families and erasing people like they’d
never existed.  Until half-an-hour before, Teja had been taking a shift at the
pyres, stacking the anonymous bodies.  Some she recognized.  Some had pinned
their names to their clothing, as if they wanted someone to know who they’d
been and remembered them.  Some lived and died alone.  The illness was
democratic in infecting all sorts of people and then leaving them all at the
same place:  Burning in mass bonfires that most survivors couldn’t bear to
watch.

By
the end, most victims of the Fall were glad to let go.

Sitting
on the roof and looking down on the chaos, Teja understood the victims’ sense
of liberation.  Of course, they wanted to be free.

Teja
did to.

The
iPod’s playlist progressed to Johnny Cash’s
Ring of Fire
.  Her
grandfather’s favorite song brought back bittersweet memories of Oberon dancing
with her.  Oberon illegally downloading half the songs on the internet.  Oberon
booing the contestants on
American Idol
.  Teja shoved the thoughts out
of her head.

She
had other things to focus on, now.

Like
a suicide note.  Should she leave one behind?  It seemed pretty pointless. 
What could she really say?  “I’m sorry” seemed trite and insincere.  If she was
really
sorry, she wouldn’t have done it in the first place, right?  “I
love you” was just as bad.  Who could read a note that said that and not think,
“Yeah you loved me, but not enough to stay and help me, huh?”  She could list
some reasons for choosing death, but the mass cremations and rotting corpses
covering their homeland seemed like a pretty fucking eloquent rationale.

Shit.

Teja
had been useless when it came to emotional crap, even before she lost the
ability to feel anything.  Her family would be better off without her.  She
couldn’t even think of a way to say good-bye to them.  It was better
not
to leave a note.  They’d figure things out when they saw her splattered body on
the pavement.

That
image made her wince.

Teja
didn’t want to subject Djinn and Hope to the sight of her corpse.  Her cousins
were having a hard enough time.  Maybe she could aim for one of the gigantic
pyres with her fall.  That way it wouldn’t leave such a mess.  It would be her
suicide and funeral all in one.

The
practical side of her knew that wouldn’t really work, that her family would
suffer when she died, even if they never saw her body.  But, Teja was too worn
out to listen.  She’d poured everything she had, every drop of her energy, into
trying to keep Oberon alive.

And
she’d failed.

There
was nothing left inside of her, now.  Whatever spark or passion she’d had for
life had gone out.

Teja
was one of the most powerful Phases.  She controlled two Elements, something
unprecedented in Elemental history.  She helped support two Houses.  So few
Phases possessed her skills and level of power.  But, she’d been helpless to
save her grandfather, the one person she loved most in the world.

The
Doors’
Light My Fire
cued up, the familiar keyboard and drum
introduction drawing her attention.  Jim Morrison was right.  The time to
hesitate was through.

Teja
leaned over slightly, so she could experience the dizzy view straight down.  A
sensation of vertigo had her vision swimming for a beat.  She could almost feel
the ground rushing up to meet her.  Jumping wouldn’t be so hard.  All she had
to do was let go.

Teja
was very, very ready to let go.

She
pulled the headphones off and set the iPod aside.  All around her the Fire
Kingdom stretched out endlessly.  The Kingdoms in the Elemental realm all
looked different, depending on their Element.  The Water Kingdom had magical
waterfalls and crystal clear pools.  The Shadowland was a grey and shifting
landscape of darkness.  The Cold Kingdom was predominantly ice and snow.  The
Fire Kingdom was world ablaze.

Electricity
had gone out the second day of the Fall, but the Fire Kingdom was still
illuminated.  And not just by the funeral pyres.  It glowed at the edges, with
volcanic reds and yellows.  Flowing rivers of lava poured over black igneous
rocks and towering volcanoes rimmed the perimeter in forbidding peaks.  It was
beautiful, in a stark and alien away; a place like nowhere else in existence. 
Teja loved the Fire Kingdom.

It
was the only spot she wanted to spend the last few moments of her life.

Teja
got to her feet.  It would be best to jump while standing.  It gave her an
extra few feet to topple from.  The smoke-filled air blew through her long
curls, whistling enticingly; calling her downward.  The toes of her battered
Converses poked out passed the edge of the roof.

She
should’ve changed clothes before she died.  Even for someone as unconcerned
with her appearance as Teja, it seemed sort of wrong to commit suicide in
ripped jeans and old sneakers.  Overtop of her white t-shirt she wore the
letterman style cardigan that had once belonged to Oberon.  There was a large,
red “O” at the bottom, which had struck his fancy and he’d stolen it from some
human college student back in the 1920s.  Since the Fall began, Teja hadn’t
taken the damn thing off.

Still,
killing oneself was a solemn occasion.  She should probably wear mourning gray
and maybe some heels.  Except, she didn’t have the energy to go find new
clothes.

She
just didn’t care.

Teja
inched forward a bit more.  The Fire Palace was a study in Gothic architecture,
right down to the hideous stone gargoyles on the roofline.  Several of them
seemed to smirk at her as she prepared to jump.  Her hand caught hold of the
one closest to her.  Using his horn for balance, she leaned out, her body
extended over the open air.

If
any slight part of her doubted that she could actually commit suicide, it was
quieted.  Teja, in that second, could absolutely let go of the gargoyle, push
off the roof, and plunge to her death.  There was something so shocking about
that, it actually penetrated her hopelessness.  The quiet confidence in her
plan vanished and a thread on her normal thought pattern tried to peak through.

She
was about to kill herself.  She could really do it.

Something
whispered at her to turn back.

The
voice was sure and strong, telling her that she needed to survive.  It cried
that she was leaving her family to suffer alone.  It screamed that it wasn’t
her time.  It said she was
needed.

Teja
shook her head, confused by the chatter inside her head.  She squeezed her eyes
shut, until all she could hear was howl of the wind past her ears and the
emptiness echoing inside her chest.  Then, she refocused on the pyres burning
below her.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Rings
of fire.

It
didn’t matter what she did, now.  It was all over, anyway.  Even Heaven had
stopped answering its calls, so maybe God and Gaia had moved on from this
universe.  Maybe it was for the best.  Teja slowly loosened her grip on the
gargoyle and prepared to meet the darkness awaiting her.  No pearly gates or
peaceful green fields.  Just oblivion.  A total blackout.

The
whispers returned, more persuasive, now.  Promising her the one thing that she
couldn’t ignore.  They said that someone important was waiting for her.  That
he would be all alone if she jumped.

They
said she had a Match.

Teja
hesitated, her heartbeat speeding up.  Was it a lie?  Did it matter?  Even if
she found her Match, what good would she be to him, now?  The world was ending
and she was empty.  Caring for another person was the last thing she wanted.

But,
she still found herself drawing back from the edge, because… she
felt
him.  Through her shock and grief, she saw something shimmering on the
horizon.  Something that cut through her haze and had her fighting to think
clearly.  She had a Match.

Wait.

She
was a Fire Phase.  If her Match was out there, she couldn’t just abandon him in
this god-awful world.  It went against every rule of her House.  Her first and
only priority was to protect him.  She had to stay with him, no matter what. 
She couldn’t kill herself.

She
had to
live
.

Teja
stepped back from the ledge.  As she did, one the roof tiles shifted under her
weight.  It threw her off balance and she lost her footing.  Her hand grabbed
for the gargoyle, trying to steady herself, but it was too late.

Her
grip on the building failed and she was suddenly freefalling towards the
ground.  The hot wind blew past her head, as she nosedived towards the
courtyard, far below.  She didn’t have time to cry out.  Even the whispers in
her head went silent as she plummeted downward.

As
the stone pavement raced up to meet her.

As
she fell through clouds of thickening smoke.

As
she saw her future compressed into nanoseconds.

Teja
plummeted towards the cobblestones.

…But
she never hit the ground.

Chapter
One

The police
suddenly found a new element in the fight that not only upset their calculations,

but
themselves as well

Robert
Barr- "The Face And The Mask
"

Two
Years Later:  Christmas Eve Morning

“We
need to talk, Chief Pryce.”

Sullivan
Pryce paused at his secretary’s desk, shooting her a surprised look.  Randa
Goldrush was a pragmatic and distant woman, who barely spoke three words a day
to him.  She
never
wanted to talk.  It was one of the reasons he’d hired
her.  When it came to screening resumes, he looked for buzzwords like
“practically mute” and “antisocial.”  The last thing he wanted was some
cheerful employee who brought him cupcakes on his birthday or wanted to carpool.

“Talk?” 
He repeated warily.  “About what?”

“You
said to let you know if I heard any interesting rumors.  Well, I have.”

Sullivan’s
mood zoomed upward.  “Rumors about the Elementals?”

He
also liked job candidates who could help him gather information on the mutant
Cult of what-the-fuck-evers who’d infiltrated his town.  That had been a huge
factor in hiring Randa.  He’d been understandably skeptical when she’d first
applied for the job, but she’d turned out to be a tirelessly worker, with no
interest in socializing and no love for the rest of her kind.

She
and Sullivan got along
great
.

A
few months before, the so-called “Elementals” had shown up in Mayport Beach,
Florida.  As the chief of police, Sullivan had suspected they were up to no
good, even before he’d known they were a mutant Cult of what-the-fuck-evers. 
Since then, he’d arrested them for countless crimes, watched them preform
impossible feats, been stalked by them, insulted by them, and kissed by one of
them.

Also,
there was a twelve hour period of Sullivan’s life that he couldn’t account for
and he
knew
they somehow were responsible.

Several
weeks before, he’d been walking home through the park.  The next thing he knew,
it was morning and he was waking up face down on his front lawn.  The only
clues he had as to where he’d been were slightly frostbitten fingers and a
strange looking gun tucked in his waistband.  Even those clues were weird, since
there was ordinarily very little chance of frostbite in South Florida and the
gun was like nothing he’d ever seen.  And Sullivan had seen
a lot
of
guns in his life.  Obviously, something Cult-y had happened.

Since
he’d never blacked out or lost time
befor
e, he could only assume that
the Elementals had somehow roofied him.  All he wanted for Christmas was the
whole gaggle of them booted out of town.  He just wasn’t sure how to achieve
that goal.  Not legally, anyway.

No
matter how aggravated he got, Sullivan wasn’t about to break the law to see
them gone.  He believed in justice.  He took his job seriously and he followed
the rules.  Sure he had a video tape of them just
appearing
out of thin
air and unprovable speculation that they were involved in a beheading or two,
but none of that was going to hold up in court.  He needed to find a
legitimate, not-weird reason to evict the bastards from Mayport Beach.

The
first logical step was to learn all he could about them.  If he was going to
fight those freaks, he’d need information.  Randa knew all the details of their
bullshit backstory and she was willing to answer his questions in clear and
matter-of-fact ways.  It was one of her best qualities.

Randa
was an “Elemental,” but her own kind seemed to hate her.  To Sullivan, that was
the best possible reference she could have.  Tall and too thin, with the face
of a debutant and clothing straight out of
Amish Vogue
, Randa was the
only “Elemental” he trusted.

Well,
no.  That wasn’t exactly true.

Sullivan
didn’t trust anyone.

But,
Randa was at least pleasant and predictable.  She was one of the few female
mutants who never hit on him, she kept to herself, and she typed eighty words a
minute.  In short, weirdo or not, she was one hell of a receptionist.

Now,
she eyed him with sad concern.  Randa was always sad.  She was one of those
people who’d obviously fallen apart at some point and never fully recovered. 
She’d patched up the pieces, but she was still fragile along every crack line. 
By this point, she seemed to have resigned herself to never fully healing. 
Randa didn’t mope about it or try to hide it, she just endured.  Sullivan
respected that about her.

After
he ran the other weirdos out of Mayport, Randa could stay.  She was a nice kid,
who just needed a break.

“The
rumors are about
you
.”  She explained in her quiet voice.  “Rumors about
the Happiness box.”

“The
what box?”

“The
Happiness
box.”  She repeated.  “If you have it, you need to give it to
Job, of the Earth House immediately.  It’s very important.  You can’t imagine
the destruction it will cause if it falls into the wrong hands.”

Sullivan
stared at her and gave up on deciphering that gibberish.  “I have no idea what
you’re talking about.”  That wasn’t unusual, though.  She might be Employee of
the Month, but Randa was still a Cult member.  Half of everything she said was
straight out of a “Dungeons & Dragons” manual.  “What is a Happiness box?”

Her
eyebrows tugged together like she was confused by the question.  Or confused
that he would need to
ask
the question.  “It’s one of the Tablets of
Fate, of course.”

“Yeeeaaaaaah.” 
He drew out the word in a humoring tone.  Well, that just cleared everything
right up.  “Like… from that videogame?”

“No,
the Tablets are
real
.  They’re very powerful and people seem to think
you
have one.  There are rumors everywhere.”

Sullivan
was still drawing a blank.  “Well, the rumors are wrong.  I
don’t
have
one, so ‘people’ are out of luck.”  Dismissing the whole nutty conversation, he
started for the door.  “You want tacos for lunch?  The stand by the pier is
making red and green tortilla shells, in honor of Christmas Eve.  I’ll bring
you back some.”

“No
one is going to
believe
you don’t have the Happiness box, though.” 
Randa called, ignoring the question.  “They’re going to come looking for you,
Chief Pryce.”

Sullivan
didn’t want to hurt Randa’s feelings by rolling his eyes, but it was hard to
resist.  “Well, if they show up, tell them I’ll be at the pier.”  The Cult was
always loitering down there, so it was the ideal place to stake them out.  He
headed out into the sunshine.

The
best part about living in Florida was the balmy temperatures.  Even at
Christmas, it was eighty degrees.  Mayport Beach was small oasis of bungalows
and palm trees, situated on the Gulf of Mexico.  Sullivan had grown-up in the
sleepy town.  He loved the place, especially now, during the holidays.  Every
December, there were twinkling lights and plastic flamingoes in Santa hats on
every street.  As ridiculous and tacky as they were, the decorations reminded him
of his grandparents and the only happy memories of his childhood.

Of
course, thanks to the Cult, thinking about his grandparents
also
reminded him of the fact that his grandfather was supposedly an incognito
Elemental.  And that Sullivan shared his extraterrestrial DNA.  And that all
the Cult women wanted to mate with him to perpetuate their creepy species or
something.

Jesus,
it was bad enough they were mutants, but did they have to be
insane
mutants?

Sullivan
wanted to talk to his cousin about the otherworldly visitors, but Melanie was
engaged to one of the freaks.  Whatever was happening, she undoubtedly knew
waaaay more about it than Sullivan did and she wasn’t sharing.  Clearly, he
couldn’t trust her to tell him anything useful.  She was on
their
side. 
So fine.  He’d figure out a way to get rid of the Cult on his own.

Mayport
Beach paid him to protect its citizens and, while it wasn’t explicitly stated
in the charter, he was pretty sure that mandate included teleporting mutants.

Crossing
the street, Sullivan headed for the beach.  He could see the shiny gold star on
top of the Christmas tree as he drew closer to the pier.  The town put it up
every year, decorating it with be-glittered seashells and brightly painted
wooden fish.

The
fifteen foot pine drew Cult members like moths to porch light.  They seemed
fascinated with it.  Apparently, they didn’t have Christmas on Krypton, because
they were always trying to figure out what the tree “meant.”  He counted six of
them just standing around, staring up at it like it was an inscrutable
painting.  Two even had their heads tilted as if they were viewing it in a
gallery, their arms crossed over their chests and their eyes narrowed in deep
concentration.

It
was too bad he planned to see them all long gone before springtime.  They’d
probably love the annual performance art exhibition that Mayportians creatively
entitled: “The Easter Egg Hunt.”

Sullivan’s
eyes automatically checked faces, hoping to spot the one Cult member he
wanted
to see.  Dark hair, and hazel eyes and a face like Sofia Loren.  She always
looked like his deepest, most hopeless fantasies come to life.

Teja.

For
some reason he couldn’t fathom, Teja seemed even more fixated on him than the
rest of the mutants.  A few weeks ago, she’d shown up at his house and bluntly
told him they should have sex.  Other Cult women suggested that, too, but Teja
was the only one who’d ever gotten him to agree.

Even
after Teja explained that she could never have any feelings for him and that it
was just about sex…  Even knowing she couldn’t possibly be attracted to someone
with a gigantic scar on his face…  Even realizing it was all some kind of
Cult-y trick to get passed his defenses…  Sullivan had
still
been
helpless to resist.  He would’ve accepted any caveats to have her.

Most
of the time, Sullivan went through the motions of living, mired in apathy and
loneliness, but he felt
alive
when Teja was with him.  In his whole
life, that crazy woman was the only thing that made him believe in magic.

That
pissed him off more than anything.

When
he kissed her, something deep inside had roared that she was
his
.  All
his instincts had lit up like fireworks, telling him that he was finally where
he belonged.  But almost as soon as their lips touched, Teja had panicked. 
Clearly, whatever the rest of the Cult had offered her to seduce Sullivan, it
wasn’t worth going through with actually
seducing Sullivan
.  She’d
whispered “I can’t do this” and disappeared from his arms.  Leaving him alone
and unbelievably frustrated.

He
hadn’t seen her since.  So many times since that night, he’d searched around
town for her, but she wasn’t there.  She’d even apparently stopped her idiot
family from shadowing his every move, (“guarding him” they’d called it) so
Sullivan suspected that she was done with him.  He’d probably never see Teja
again.

But
he still always looked for her.

Sullivan
sighed when he once again came up empty.  Teja wasn’t there.  Christ, why did
he even
want
to see her?  She was gorgeous and magical, but the woman
was a weirdo.  Wherever she was, Sullivan’s goal
should
be
to
send all the rest of the Cult off to join her.

He
couldn’t trust Teja or anyone else.

Scanning
the crowd for the brunette bane-of-his-existence wasn’t a total waste of time,
though.  Since he was keeping tabs on every Cult member he saw, he used his
phone to surreptitiously snap pictures of the ones he didn’t immediately
recognize and make notes on their distinguishing features.

The
colored stripes in their hair had to signify something.  Maybe some kind of rank. 
They all had them and they came in a variety of hues.  He needed to ask Randa
about it.  Since Sullivan was colorblind, it was hard to differentiate all the
shades, but he did his best.  This group had one navy blue streak, three neon
green or maybe orange, one that might have been brown or…

He
abruptly stopped his analysis, his instincts firing up.

Sullivan
lifted his head with a snap, looking around.  Something was wrong.  He could
feel it.  He didn’t believe in premonitions, but, all his life, he’d had an
uncanny ability to sense when things were about to go FUBAR.  There was just
enough time to brace himself and then a tornado slammed into him.

The
concentrated cyclone of air lifted him off his feet and sent him flying.  He
felt his body twisting.  He heard screaming as people scattered.  He saw the
palm tree he was about to hit headfirst and knew it was going to fracture his
skull.

…But,
somehow it didn’t.

The
tree seemed to
move
at the last second.  Sullivan had no idea how, but
he missed it.  He hit the ground twenty feet from where he’d started, but
without a snapped neck.  He didn’t believe in miracles, either, but the physics
of that near-miss seemed impossible.  It was like the tree just shifted out of
the way for him.  It was definitely weird.