Magic of the Wood House (The Elemental Phases Book 6) (13 page)

And
they were telling him to get out.

Teja
nodded.  “Sixty seconds.  Actually, even
that’s
too much.”  She stared
at him, an odd expression on her face.  “You hear them, don’t you?”  She
asked.  “The whispers in your head?”

“Yes.” 
He said simply.  “Instincts.  All soldiers need them to survive.”

“It’s
more than just instincts.”  She corrected.  “I’ve only heard the whispers once
and now I’m wondering if I ever heard them, at all.  You’re so strong, maybe I
just heard
you
.”

Sullivan
had no idea what that meant.

“This
will just take a moment.”  Freya headed down a short hallway.  “He’s not the
most popular patient.  That’s why I have him hidden in one of the private
rooms.”

Teja
shot her an incredulous look.  “You have secret rooms filled with sick
scumbags?”

“I
have a responsibility to protect everyone --even scumbags-- when my brother
finds them on the front lawn, beaten to a pulp.”  Freya talked so fast the words
tumbled out over each other.  She hurried towards a series of large doors.  “I
knew who Vandal was and I knew everyone would want him dead, but I have an ethical
obligation as a doctor to administer…”

“
You
have Vandal, of the Fucking Light House in here!
”  Teja roared.

“What
else could I do?!  The hospital is a sanctuary.  You know that.  Anyone can
come here and be safely treated until they’re well.  I have a duty to give the
best health care possible…”  Freya broke off with a shriek of alarm, just as
she opened the door.  A huge section of melting ice slipped from the unstable wall
above her head.  It slammed into her skull, knocking her to the ground.  She
lay there, ominously still.

“
Damn
it!
”  Teja dashed over, dropping to her knees beside her cousin.  “Freya!” 
She put a hand to the girl’s bleeding forehead, looking more frightened than
Sullivan had ever seen her.  “Freya, wake-up!”  She shook her head in frantic
denial.  “No. 
No.
  I can’t do this.  No one else can die.  I can’t do
it, again. 
Wake up!
”  She looked at Sullivan, her eyes wild.  “Sullivan,”
she said helplessly, “she’s not moving.  Why isn’t she moving?  Do you think she…?” 
Teja trailed off, unable to finish the question.

Shit.

Sullivan
crouched down to survey the damage.  Elementals weren’t human, but they were
close enough.  He tried for a pulse.  “She’s alive.”  He reported, his fingers
pressed to Freya’s neck.

Teja
sagged in relief.  “Thank God.  We have to…”  She stopped short as Sullivan
grabbed her arm.  “What are you doing?”

“We
have to go.”  He ordered, no longer focused on Freya.  “
Now.
”

His
eyes stayed locked on the large device sitting just behind the door that Freya
had opened.  Someone had hidden it there, because there was no mistaking this
machine for a medical gizmo.  A digital clock was counting down numbers.  Wires
wrapped around like some home entertainment system gone horribly wrong.  Adrenaline
pumped through Sullivan’s body as he recognized what he was looking at.

The
Star of Bethlehem.

Teja
followed his gaze, clearly confused.  “What is that thing?”  Fire Phases might
have kickass collections of broadswords and battle axes, but she didn’t
recognize modern human weaponry.

Sullivan
did.

“It’s
a bomb.”  Sullivan picked up Freya’s limp body and slung her over his
shoulder.  “We have to go.”

“A
bomb?”  Teja made a face.  “Is that all?  Calm down.  Bombs don’t work in this
realm.”

“And
guns don’t work on Elementals, except I used one to kill a guy this morning,
didn’t I?”  He dragged her to her feet, gesturing to the dwindling numbers on
the clock.  “We have eleven seconds to see what other rules get broken today.”

“Alright,
alright.  We’ll find Vandal and we’ll…”

“We
don’t have time.”
 
Sullivan met her eyes dead on.  “Trust me.”

Teja
hesitated.  “I should trust you, when you don’t trust me?”  She challenged.

“Yes. 
I know what that thing can do. 
Trust me.
  We have to go. 
Now.
”

Two
Years Before:  Day Six of the Fall

Rysimer,
of the Light House decided to blow up the world on a Wednesday.

He
didn’t want to blow up the world
because
it was a Wednesday.

Rye
had nothing against Wednesdays themselves.  They were as serviceable a day of
the week as any Thursday or Monday.  After three hundred and four years, the
individual calendar pages of Rye’s life had long since begun blurred at the
edges.  In fact, he didn’t even know that it
was
a Wednesday when the
plan first entered his mind.

No,
Wednesday just happened to be the day that the surviving Light Phases jumped
into the human realm and began looking for the bomb.

Humans
didn’t have a lot of uses, but they
excelled
at stockpiling weapons. 
When you wanted enough firepower to destroy your enemies in a hurry, you went
to the experts on mass murder.

Humans
invented some other nifty gadgets over the years.  Rysimer wouldn’t deny that. 
For instance, Rye liked cars.  He would have acquired one for himself if the
Light Kingdom possessed a single road suitable for driving.  He’d always wanted
a Lamborghini or some other bullet-shaped fantasy that looked like it was
constructed entirely out of speed and shine.  Even Kahn admitted that mankind
kicked ass when it came to designing luxury automobiles.

Still,
pound for pound, humanity’s greatest accomplishment just had to be the SB-12-24
bomb.  The Star of Bethlehem.  The only explosive in the universe so
specialized, that it could penetrate the Elemental realm and actually cause
damage.  Never had concentrated explosives come together to form such a perfect
vision of the future.

That
stood as the humans’
real
legacy.  They manufactured their own ruin and
then named it for their gods.  How the hell could you not appreciate the balls
of a species like that?

Rysimer
stalked through the human tenement, ignoring the sideways looks he and the
others received.  It might have been their Western-style clothing that drew so
much attention.  All five Light Phases wore camouflaged cargo pants and
commando green shirts, which didn’t exactly blend seamlessly with the native
dress.  Or it might have been their hair.  Not many men in this part of the
world had long blond hair braided into intricate knots.  Or maybe everyone just
correctly picked up on the group’s “don’t fuck with us” vibe.

More
than likely, though, it was the smell.

Rysimer
smelled like death.  All five of the Light Phases did.  It was impossible
not
to smell like death when you spent six straight days filling mass graves with
every person you’d ever known.  Rysimer probably should have ordered them all
to change clothes before they came to the human realm.

But,
Rye was past giving a shit about hygiene.

The
Light House presently consisted of just Rye, Kahn, Julius, Mannus and Daven. 
The five of them held every speck of Light in the universe.  They were
completely responsible for balancing everything from sunsets, to streetlamps,
to the glow of computer screens.  Without Light, nothing else could exist.  The
Wood Houses’ plants wouldn’t grow.  The Shadow House would break under the
strain of maintaining endless night.  The Heat House wouldn’t have the sunlight
to warm, so the Weather House couldn’t maintain the temperature of the world.

When
you stood on the brink of extinction, taking a bath just didn’t seem real
important.

Harry
Belafonte’s
Jump in the Line
blared out of a small window high above
them, in one of the cramped apartments.  The peppy calypso beat created a
ridiculous soundtrack for their mission.  Rysimer vaguely considered tracking
down the radio playing the song and beating it to death.

“Move.” 
Kahn shoved some innocent human aside without breaking his stride.

The
guy went careening into the side of a building.  For a second, the human’s
human-y face went blank with surprise and the beginnings of anger.  He caught
his balance against the graffiti covered wall, his eyes cutting over to Kahn as
if he wanted to attack.

Then,
he noticed the broadsword strapped to Kahn’s back and reconsidered.

Julius
hesitated long enough to drag the man upright and bracingly pounded him on the
shoulder.  “There ya are, human.  Any harm done?”

The
man staggered again under the energetic show of camaraderie.  For his own
safety, he didn’t seem eager to respond to Jules’ inquiry.

“He’s
fine
.”  Kahn answered for him.  “I didn’t break the little hume.  I
barely touched him, in fact.”

Mannus
and Daven both turned and scowled at him, but Kahn pretended not to notice. 
“So, where the fuck is this place?”  He snapped instead.  “I thought you said
that you knew where you were going, Rye?”

“I
do.”  Rysimer intoned.

Rye
might have no clue who the president of the United States was or how to work a
cellphone.  But, he always kept track of where the humans sold their black
market weapons.  Especially, a weapon that might actually work against the
Elementals.  It was just common sense.

Light
Phases weren’t artists or teachers or scientists.  They were born and raised to
be warriors.  It was all they knew.  The hunters and trackers of the Elemental
realm, Light Phases were famous for two things:  Saving lives and taking
lives.  Rye wasn’t sure which career path he’d just started down.  Not that it
mattered, now.

The
Elementals were all but gone, anyway.

Rysimer
pointed at an innocuous looking storefront.  The sign over the door advertised
antiques and curiosities in one of the human dialects.  “That’s the place.”  He
prowled up to the door and slammed his fist against it.

The
others took into position around him, watching the street in both directions
against attack.

“We
should have brought some of their money.”  Daven muttered.  “We could just
buy
this damn bomb and be done with it.”

“Yeah,
well, the Wood House isn’t exactly taking a lot of counterfeiting requests at
the moment.”  His brother retorted.  The Wood House could reproduce any sort of
paper instantly, even human currency.  “Besides, we’d have to lie to get it. 
The Wood House would never agree with this plan.  They’re too moral.  And it’d
be a
little
awkward to come up with an explanation for why we need a
couple of suitcases full of cash during a plague.”  Mannus, being forty-eight
years older than his brother, delighted in mocking him.

“A
pile of dead humans could get awkward, too.”  Daven shot back.  “And if these
guys try resisting us, that’s what’s gonna happen, genius.  You know that.”

Rye
spared a look up at the sky.

Mannus
and Daven couldn’t be in the same room with each other and not argue over
something.  The exact color of the carpet… Which of them was
more
bored…
Whether the ugly picture on the wall was of a girl holding a big cat or a little
dog...  It was endless.  The siblings amused themselves with a constant stream
of bickering.

And
it was probably going to get worse since the two of them now represented forty
percent of entire Light House population.

The
Light House needed to hang on for the good of the world.  Except there were
only five Light Phases left… and all of them were male.  The thought went round
and round in Rysimer’s head.  Since Phases usually followed their mother’s
House, that really didn’t bode well for a happily-ever-after.  And there wasn’t
a damn thing he could do about it.

It
made him furious.

Rye
was so fucking angry that it filmed his vision in red.  All he could think
about was striking back at Parald.

The
door creaked open and Rysimer found an automatic weapon leveled in his face.  A
human watched them suspiciously, his nose wrinkling at their combined smell. 
The chain lock on the door could have anchored a cruise ship.  “What do you
want?”

“Fucking
candy.  What do you think we want, asshole?”  Kahn shot back.  “Open the door.”

Rysimer
flashed him a warning glare.

Kahn
could blow this plan with his impatience for revenge.  Most Elementals,
consumed with their dead and dying loved ones, faced a more immediate crisis
then getting vengeance against the Air House.  But, the Light Kingdom fell fast
and hard.  No one else was left now to die or to bury.  The Light Phases had
nothing else on their agendas for the rest of eternity except killing Parald,
of the Air House and every living thing within several thousand feet of him.

One
trip quick trip to the Air Kingdom with the human bomb.  Not even Parald could
survive that.

Yeah,
Rysimer was betting that the Star of Bethlehem would leave a nice sized crater
as a monument to all the innocent Phases that the Air House killed.  Maybe it
would serve as a tombstone for them all.  Odds seemed good that the explosion
would kill too many Air Phases.  It might destroy the entire House and, as an
inevitable consequence, end the world sooner than scheduled.

Rye
was too angry to care, though.

For
some reason, Kahn’s sarcasm seemed to reassure the human with the gun.  The guy
warily lowered his weapon.  His eyes cut to the Black streaks in their hair. 
All Elementals were born with colored markers at their temples.  The Light
Phases’ were a solid black that stood out against the rest of the tawny
strands.

Rysimer
arched a brow at the guy’s thoughtful expression.

“Wait
here.”  The human closed the door, again.

“Great.” 
Daven crossed his arms over his chest.  “How long will this take?  I’m hot.  Is
it always so hot in this realm?”

“It’s
the Weather House’s fault.”  Mannus declared, authoritatively.

Predictably
enough, that set off another argument with Daven.  “No, it’s not.  It’s the
Heat
House’s
fault.  Obviously.”

“Jesus.” 
Kahn muttered.

Julius
leaned forward closer to Rysimer and lowered his voice.  “This isn’t honorable,
Rye.”  He chided, renewing his objections to the plan.  “You know that.”

Rysimer
sighed.  How the hell could Jules have buried both of his parents yesterday and
still give a shit about honor?  Julius had always been the most idealistic of
the Light Phases, though.  His face showed lines of tension, and grief, and
streaks of dirt, but his black eyes still held hope.

Rysimer’s
hope was long dead.

“Rye.” 
Julius pressed.  “Listen, Elementals don’t use human technology to attack each
other.  That’s not, the way that we…”

“Shut
the fuck up!”  Kahn roared.  He
wasn’t
an idealist.  He never had been
and now a genuine darkness grew in his mind.

No
one blamed him for it, either.

In
the past four days, Kahn had lost all six of his younger sisters and his cousin,
Mara.  Since the death of his parents, years before, Kahn had been looking out
for all the girls.  They were his world.  His heart.  The only people, places,
or things that he loved.

Kahn
was immune to the disease.  It seemed anyone who was still alive at this point
was doomed to stay that way.  But, he’d watched his sisters and Mara
suffering.  He’d moved dazedly between their bedsides as they struggled to
survive.  Their bodies shook from fevers and chills.  Their skin took on a
horrible shriveled grayness.  They coughed and coughed, until -exhausted and
delirious from the pain- they drifted into a deep, coma-like sleep and finally
surrendered to the plague.

Watching
the Fall drain the girls from the inside out, destroyed every drop of life in
Kahn’s soul.  He’d sobbed by their graves and screamed at the heavens until
there was nothing left inside of him.  Kahn was as dead as his sisters, now. 
Rage was the only thing sustaining him.

So,
Rye could tell that all of Julius’s pretty notions about honor and following
the Council’s laws meant exactly shit to Kahn.

“I
mean it, Jules.  Just get on fucking board with this or just leave.”  Kahn stabbed
a finger at him.  “Go back to our empty kingdom and wait for the universe to
end.  ‘Cause, I don’t want to
debate the morality of killing the man who
just
murdered my entire fucking family!
”

Julius
cringed slightly, not just at the words, but at Kahn’s volume.  Every human in
the town turned to gape at him.  Granted, Kahn used the Elemental language for
his bellowing, so they couldn’t understand the words.  But, it still didn’t
help with keeping their profile low.

Harry
Belafonte continued encouraging everyone to rock their bodies in time, filling
the sudden, uneasy silence.

“Can
we at least agree not to kill any humans?”  Julius finally compromised.  “Like
Daven said, it’ll draw attention and it…”