Elemental Light (Paranormal Public Book 9)

 

 

 

Elemental Light

 

(
Paranormal Public, Book IX)

 

 

by

 

 

 

Maddy Edwards

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2014 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

 

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of

the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial

purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own

copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

 

 

 

My blog:
http://maddyedwards.blogspot.com/

My goodreads page:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5288585.Maddy_Edwards

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Books by Maddy Edwards

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Prologue

 

I shot awake. The sound of screaming engulfed me as I tumbled out of my own bed and dashed over to Sip’s. There was no light in our shared room, and I stubbed my toe on the corner of my bed’s frame and limped the rest of the way to where I could grope around through the piles of covers and try to awaken my friend.

“Sip,” I gasped. “What’s wrong?”

The werewolf sat up, her big purple eyes huge as she stared straight ahead, unseeing.

“She’s dying,” she whispered. “I just know she is. I keep having the same dream, over and over. It won’t stop.” She buried her head in her hands.

I wrapped what I hoped was a comforting arm around her shoulder, but which of us needed the contact more I wasn’t sure.

“It’s just a dream,” I said. I leaned over and lit a candle, hoping light would chase away some of the physical shadows. The other shadows would be harder to get rid of.

Sip’s shoulders shook. “It’s real,” she said through her hands. Her voice came out muffled and small. “I saw her. So did you. Whatever black power is coursing through her now, she can’t survive it.”

We sat in silence for several minutes  while Sip tried to suppress her sobs. Queen Lanca of the Rapier vampires had bemusedly offered us separate rooms, but neither Sip nor I wanted to be alone, especially when night closed in. Neither of us would admit it, but fear had wrapped itself around us like a cloak, and the cloak was tightening daily. I was afraid that what came next was despair.

Sip’s nightmares kept her awake, and I felt better knowing I could be there to comfort her if she needed it, as she had tonight.

Our room was small, but that meant fewer places where shadows could hide. Our single beds were on opposite walls, with a window between us. We each had a dresser and a small desk. We had chosen the simplest room we could find, and Sip couldn’t help talking about how much happier Lisabelle would have been in that little room than in their room at Paranormal Public University, decorated in neon (Sip’s side) and black (Lisabelle’s). Lough had a room across the hall that he shared with Rake and Ricky. I was glad my brother had company, and I hoped he couldn’t hear Sip screaming. With the recent death of the man he had always thought was his father, he had reasons enough for his own nightmares.

“I have to help her,” said Sip, lifting her chin.

This was not a new conversation between us.

I shook my head. “We are trying to help her,” I argued. “We’re trying to help all the paranormals. You’re the president of the Sign of Six, for crying out loud.”

Sip sighed and glared at me. There were two spots of red on her cheeks and she was breathing hard. I could tell she was looking for a fight.

“Research is my thing,” she said. “I need to find a library and start figuring out what’s wrong with her. She needs help. She’s wearing the
Black Ring and she has that stupid wand tattoo that she thinks is cool. It can’t be good for her.”

“She’s in a dangerous situation,” I said, “and I’m sure she needs all the help she can get. But how are you going to know if it’s helping?”

“It’s a problem,” Sip agreed. “I just need to find a way to meet with her. I’m not sure she even realizes what’s happening to her. It’d be just like her not to.”

“She knows she’s tired,” I said.

“But does she know she’s dying?” Sip asked, her voice small. “Does anyone know that but me?”

“What do you need?” I asked, trying to keep her mind on the practical.

“Books,” said Sip. “It’s not like this is something I can Google, after all. I need real books!”

“Okay,” I said. “But the best research facilities are surely at Public.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” said Sip.

“We’ll get back there,” I assured her. “We will. I promise.”

“Of course,” said Sip, as if it wasn’t even a question. “But will it be in time?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I hope so.”

“The bottom line is, I’m not going to let her die. All of this is for nothing if she dies in the end. If it has to be one of us, it’s going to be me. If I don’t make it to the end of this, at least I’ll know I was the best friend she could ask for,” said Sip stubbornly. “At least I’ll know.”

I sat motionless. “Lisabelle would never forgive me if I let you die,” I said finally. My throat felt tight.

Sip snorted. “Lisabelle’s under the mistaken impression that she always gets what she wants . . . then she goes and gets a wand tattoo. I don’t want to die, but I’ll do what I have to.”

Wouldn’t we all.

 

Chapter O
ne

 

The hall at Dunne ai Dorn was filled with silence and the gusts of wind. I brushed some long brown strands of hair out of my face and continued to gaze out the large, gilt-edged black window. My reflection told me I needed a haircut. Before Mrs. Swan disappeared she had trimmed my hair periodically, and after she was gone I asked Sip to try her hand at it. But by the time Sip had finished one attempt at crazy shearing, I gave up. Now my hair grew long, flowing most of the way down my back.

One of the books Sigil had given me months ago said that Queen Ashray wore her hair long, and I thought about that now, smiling a little at the thought of my friend, the ghost who lived in the Astra library. My smile disappeared when I remembered that I had no idea whether Sigil was okay.

Coming back to the present, I took a deep breath and glanced around. The early morning light filtered through the windows, turning gray and dull as it burst onto the plain marble floor. Spring had come, but with it had come no life or warmth. I wrapped my black jacket closer around me and felt my ring rub against the fabric. The apex of my magic hadn’t burned with power in days, and it felt dull from disuse. Or maybe from sadness.

“How does it look?” Sip asked, appearing at my elbow and looking out the window for herself.

Sip often, as now, moved around so quietly that I didn’t know she was there until she announced herself. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was sallow and wet. She had decided that sleep was an unnecessary evil and given it up, or at least that was her explanation when Lough and I tried an intervention. We were shut down as if the store was closing on time, and that was that.

She shrugged off my look of concern.

“Lanca wanted to speak with us,” said Sip.

I sighed and turned away from the view. Now that we’d had a chance to rest, there was a lot to discuss.

 

Dunne ai Dorn was a small castle (apparently there are such things, at least in Cruor land) on the edge of Rapier territory. From its windows we could see, in the distance, the black points of Vampire Locke, stabbing upward into the cloud-filled sky. Sometimes the top of the mountain looked like it was burning as the sun heated the rocks.

Queen Lanca and Vital had set up a command post at the castle when they left Public, and they had been there ever since, looking for any opening that would let them get a foothold back at Locke. Lanca refused to be far away from her people or her home. Now my friends, my brother, and I had arrived needing refuge, and she had provided it.

Paranormal Public was still under the weighted hand of darkness, but there was at least some good news amidst all the gloom. It turned out that many students had already left Public for the Christmas break before the takeover, and they were fine. But President Caid was refusing to come to Dunne ai Dorn. He had been at the Paranormal Police Academy, and according to Lanca he was staying there. He wanted to speak with the most powerful vampire queen, although Lanca thought it was merely to order her around, but he wanted her to go to him. Clearly he didn’t know Lanca, or vampires, very well.

Lanca wasn’t impressed. Nor did she trust Caid’s cousin General Goffer, who ran the Police Academy, and in any case she wasn’t about to let anyone tell her what to do.

“This is my home, and no one is going to lure me away from it,” she said, slamming her hand into her fist.

Sip and I had joined her in her sitting room at the top of the castle. One of the features I loved about Dunne ai Dorn was that every room had large windows, and this one was no exception. The windows had been installed in the castle generations ago, before darkness had overtaken the Rapiers. It was a sign of respect for Vampire Locke that Dunne ai Dorn was open to a view of the majesty of the Blood Throne.

Now the spectacular view was of a land turned barren. Shrubs were shriveled and the ground was dried and cracked. Clumps of brown grass dotted the dead fields.

Lanca clearly felt at home here, but it wasn’t a side of herself that she had often shown at Paranormal Public. The family that had lived here were all long dead except for a bratty little boy who had been the first vampire killed when the demons headed for Vampire Locke. Lanca planned to use the place as her “summer retreat” when she tired of the Blood Throne - once she got the Blood Throne back. In the meantime, it was her headquarters in that effort.

As for the room where we were about to meet Lanca, the decorations couldn’t have said “vampire” more emphatically. There were plush red sofas and chairs set in groupings atop plush black carpets. On the walls hung a variety of vampire “art,” many of the images depicting blood and death.

Other than that it was cozy, and most importantly, it was private.

We had come to Dunne ai Dorn only the night before, and there was a lot to catch up on. Sip had disappeared the moment we had arrived and headed straight for, in her words, “what these vampires think passes for a library.” I knew exactly when she left the library and came to the room we shared, mostly because she started slamming and banging things as soon as she got there. When I asked her about it she muttered something dark and angry about needing more information.

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