Elemental Unity Read online

  Elemental Unity

  (Paranormal Public, Book XIV)

  by

  Maddy Edwards

  Copyright © 2019 by Maddy Edwards

  Cover Design © Broken Arrow 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

  My Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/MaddyEdwards/329001650447436

  Table of Contents

  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

  Contact Maddy Edwards

  Books by Maddy Edwards

  Prologue

  The last two years had been anything but quiet in my magical world. Paranormal Public University had tried to survive in the face of steep odds after the Nocturn War, but instead of Public getting easier to attend school, it was as if every semester was more difficult than the last.

  Now, in my second semester of my second year at Public, a few facts had become clear to me.

  The first was that hiding didn’t work. It might work for the Hunters, but it didn’t work for me. I had tried it, and my friend had died. After that I had agreed to come to Public. On my way there I had watched my sister’s old nemesis, Camilla Van Rothson, escape from justice. She was still on the run to this day.

  The second thing I had learned was that the artifacts were, or at least should be, the main focus of the paranormals, as they were for the Hunters. The artifacts held the keys to unlimited power. The only one who didn’t care about magical objects was Lisabelle Verlans, Premier of All Darkness, Master of Sarcasm, and my sister’s best friend of many years. General Goffer was power-hungry and not to be trusted. President Yeast was all of those things, and secretive, a disaster in the making now that she had replaced Sip Quest as president of the Paranormals.

  The third realization was that there might be another elemental out there. Although unlikely, that was one explanation that made sense of the magic that had appeared briefly on campus last semester.

  Lastly, Sip Quest’s murder was the worst moment in our recent history. The death of a beloved president had brought about a sea change, one I still wasn’t certain we’d recover from. At least we all understood that nothing would ever be the same. Most paranormals were shocked, but the reverberations for me and those I cared about were more personal. I loved Sip like another big sister. Charlotte loved Sip. Lisabelle loved Sip.

  Strong emotions from a paranormal holding as much darkness as Lisabelle held were bound to cause a break. And when the crack came, the paranormal world might very well break open and burn.

  Chapter One

  The black coach drew up to the front of Duckleworth Castle on Duke Dacer’s estate. It was early morning, and the grounds were covered in a thick blue mist. Trees looked like waving black figures obscured by a rippling curtain. Against some of the trunks were pillow-sized piles of old snow. The grass was dreary and brown in many places, but somehow all the colors seemed vibrant and deep. Even in the middle of winter there was something alive about Duckleworth.

  Or maybe it was just that the swirls of fog made the vision seem alive.

  Unless you were looking for them, you might almost have missed it when the two dogs darted toward the coach.

  One was named Useless, the other Crumple. They were the dogs of Duckleworth, despite the owner’s dislike of the creatures. With their good cheer and their refusal to be denied licking, petting, and sniffing, they had woven themselves into the fabric of castle life the way a pebble weaves itself into a shoe.

  Duke Dacer talked tough about the creatures, but he had a soft heart. His cousin Zellie, who lived with him at Duckleworth, talked tough, and her heart hadn’t been seen since the seventies.

  The dogs raced forward, tails wagging.

  A black-clad figure stepped from the coach. He made straight for the entrance without so much as a glance at his surroundings.

  From his purposeful steps, I could tell he’d seen what he was looking for. Dacer was probably waiting for him in the front hall.

  My heart started to pound, and I slipped away from the window.

  On the second floor, near my sparsely furnished room, was a small library. The fire in the library was easy to light, and Keegan and I had spent most of our winter break there. Keegan lounged and played games, read books about trees, or worked on a design for the next addition to his treehouse. I read up on the history of the Counter Wheel. The Curl Cup, the Slice Saucer, the Break Barrel, the Cut Cathedra, the Explode Rod, and the Decimation Sling: all of them Golden, all of them different from each other, but thought to be deadly when their power was combined.

  Not expecting Dacer’s visitor to want to speak with me, I made for the library to do some more reading.

  Keegan wasn’t awake yet, so the place was empty.

  Keegan liked to sleep in whenever possible, which over break was every day.

  I couldn’t sleep. Not after everything that had happened.

  Sip’s murder, my sister going into hiding, elemental magic appearing from no known source, and repeated attacks had left me on edge. Our inability to find the objects on the Counter Wheel only added to my worry. If the Hunters had found them we would have heard about it, but that gave me small comfort. They were finding other artifacts at an alarming rate.

  I wished I’d heard from some of my friends at Paranormal Public University. There had been nothing from Eighellie, who would have been the most likely to get in touch. I would have welcomed contact from Averett or Greek as well. The vampire and the fallen angel were both friends of mine.

  Greek and I had communicated before, but this time I wasn’t surprised that I hadn’t heard from him. He was with his family over break, and fallen angels did not approve of the Rollinses, not after their favorite son Keller Erikson had married my sister Charlotte. Not after Keller and Charlotte had a child. Most of the time Keller didn’t appear to care, but sometimes he did.

  Ostelle was the one I most wanted to speak with.

  Hear from
.

  See.

  Whenever I sat by the fire I was reminded of her flaming red hair, the sparks in the grate echoing the sparks in her eyes. Amused and deadly, but with something else peeking out of those eyes as well.

  Fear.

  I hadn’t heard from her, either.

  In three days I would see all of them anyway, so it shouldn’t have mattered.

  But it did.

  I picked up a book and started to read about the Counter Wheel. At the beginning of winter break I had made the important decision to stop reading the Tabble in favor of savoring the small specks of happiness left to me. Coming off more and more like a silly rag every day, it seemed to be full of articles and topics that I couldn’t believe they were covering.

  Best to ignore it entirely, I’d decided.

  It wasn’t as if my reading it was going to change what was being said or done.

  On this particular morning, I was soon lost in the history of the Wheel. It turned out that all the beliefs in the paranormal world about the deadly power of the combination of artifacts on the Wheel came from a single event.

  That is to say, the Wheel had only ever been used once, but that event had been so terrible and destructive that the objects had been separated in an effort to prevent such destruction in the future.

  How then had they all ended up at Paranormal Public?

  Before I could get into the details, I heard footsteps.

  That wouldn’t be Dacer, since he floated around most of the time.

  “Ricky?”

  But it was Dobrov who stood in the doorway, the half-breed president of Paranormal Public University. At least for now. There were growing cries to replace him, but so far he had hung on.

  I was glad he had.

  He was dressed in simple black clothing, his red, burned skin mostly covered.

  “Dobrov.” I got to my feet and went to hug my sister’s friend.

  “How goes the winter break?” he asked.

  I set my book on the table and shrugged. “Quiet. Good.”

  Dobrov nodded. “I hope you don’t mind that I came upstairs to speak with you.”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  Dobrov sat in Keegan’s usual chair and looked around at the dirty plates, the game manuals, the scattered pairs of dice. He didn’t comment.

  “Dacer and I had business to discuss, but I also have business to discuss with you,” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. I wondered how could I possibly be in trouble at school before I’d even gotten there for the year.

  “It’s about your sister and Lisabelle,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to my sister about that?” I asked.

  “She’s in hiding. The less she hears from us the better. Anyhow, I’ve been hoping to give Charlotte the impression that we could handle things without her. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

  “She’d probably appreciate that,” I said.

  After Sip’s murder and everything else that had happened, Charlotte and Keller had taken their daughter Vera and gone away. Even I didn’t know where.

  “So Lisabelle?” I asked.

  Dobrov nodded, his expression turning grave.

  “I’m afraid the situation has reached a breaking point. She is furious over Sip, and the paranormals are moving toward war,” he said.

  “Against Lisabelle?” I asked incredulously.

  “Against the Premier of All Darkness, yes,” said Dobrov.

  “And you think I can help?” I said.

  “I think Lisabelle likes you as much as she likes anyone. She feels some sort of ownership over you and the particles of dust on the wind. If Charlotte is a sister to her, than you are a little brother,” he explained.

  I grinned at his explanation of Lisabelle’s feelings. “That may or may not be true. I’m pretty sure Lisabelle is happiest without siblings,” I said dubiously.

  Dobrov chuckled. “That’s probably true.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Go see her,” he said. “She’s refusing to see anyone, which is new. We have no idea what she’s up to, which is terrifying.”

  “You can probably just assume it’s something bad,” I said.

  “Exactly,” said Dobrov.

  I sighed.

  “Is she at that place she shared with Sip?” I asked.

  Dobrov shook his head. “No, my sources tell me she hasn’t been there since Sip’s attack.”

  He didn’t say death.

  “Where does darkness lie?” I asked.

  Dobrov looked at me grimly. “It won’t be easy to get you there, but I think we can fast-track the trip. Lisabelle is very well protected.”

  “Just as long as I don’t have to use a broom,” I muttered.

  “If you’re worried about a broom and not Lisabelle, we’ve asked the right paranormal to do this,” said Dobrov.

  “One worry at a time,” I said.

  Chapter Two

  Lisabelle Verlans lived in a valley, mostly because darkness tended to pool at the bottom of things, so it was just easier for her to embrace the lowlands. There she had built a castle of hardened coal and ebony nights. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before, is what Dobrov said.

  Turned out he was right.

  The castle covered the span of the valley. I was delivered there in a coach. The second we passed over the boundaries into darkness, the coach suddenly acquired an escort of countless large black crows. Their red eyes burned into the darkness.

  We landed, and the coach driver looked at me. His skin was slack and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. He was an experienced coach driver, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

  “You know they offered a lot of extra payment for this job. Promised it was safe and still no one would take it. I just needed the money,” he swallowed.

  I almost felt bad that I hadn’t consented to ride a broom, just to spare him.

  The birds were still waiting overhead. Mostly we could see outlines and burning eyes. There was a sort of hazy smoke in the air.

  “It’s going to be worse leaving,” the driver went on. “I figured I wouldn’t get blasted out of the sky as long as you were with me. Precious cargo and all that. Now that I’ve dropped you off, I just don’t know. If I don’t make it back home, tell my mother I love her and I’m sorry for not listening to her all these years.”

  A thunderous boom drew our attention to the gated doors of the castle, slowly swinging open to reveal a shriveled yet impossibly tall vampire dressed in black clothes and white gloves. Even from this distance I could see a red pin on his jacket.

  The driver of the coach swallowed hard. “I’ll see you later. Hopefully.”

  He climbed back up and was quickly pulling away into the upper air.

  The vampire’s hollowed out eyes watched the couch climb. The crows surrounded it again.

  The vampire descended the steps. His hips appeared to hinge painfully as he did so. His snarled hands reached out.

  “Ricky Rollins?” he asked, voice grating.

  “Yes,” I said, hefting my overnight bag. We hadn’t been sure how Lisabelle was going to take this visit. I’d brought a bag in case she let me stay or imprisoned me for centuries.

  “This way,” said the vampire.

  “Do you have a name?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, and kept going.

  The climb up the stairs took forever. The vampire appeared barely comfortable moving.

  I saw now that besides his creaky hips, one of his feet was bandaged.

  Hellhounds were waiting at the doors. Large, threatening hellhounds.

  When I glanced behind me I saw more hellhounds, all sniffing the ground where the carriage had been.

  The air felt like it was choked with smoke, even though my breathing was fine and I saw no fires.

  It was as if there was an old burning still scenting the air. This place was built on fire. Coals had been used to exp
and the castle. But what was being burned?

  Inside, all I saw was black stone and marble. There was no warmth, but also no cold, and definitely no wind.

  The wind was afraid to blow here.

  And for good reason.

  The hellhounds gently trotted away, no doubt to go terrorize whatever was left here to be terrorized.

  “This way,” said the vampire. He made to climb the stairs and I let out a sigh.

  He glared at me. “Do you have a problem?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Excellent,” he said. “The mistress is in her usual place.” He paused as if wanting to say more, but in the end he held his tongue.

  Lisabelle had a usual place in this fire grate, in the inside of a chimney, at the bottom of a woodstove.

  At least she had let me come. At least, I thought she had let me come.

  Then we were walking down a corridor of shining black glass. My feet appeared to be walking over smoke. On either side of the wide hallway were massive black gargoyles, intricately carved figures that had walked out of my nightmares.

  My feet moved a little more quickly.

  The vampire noticed and slowed his pace.

  A growl escaped my throat.

  The door we were making toward looked like one that should lead into a vault. It was made of thick black steel forged in black fire and darkness.

  Everything about the inside of the castle was midnight and black ink.

  “Here’s her room,” said the vampire, stopping in front of the door. For a split second I considered helping him open it, then thought better of it.

  He pulled the door open himself. Somehow.

  And then there we were.

  Sitting in the center of a cavernous room was Lisabelle Verlans, working on something on a table in front of her.

  At first she didn’t even look up. Then her black eyes found mine. Something twitched in her face, her expression unreadable.

  “Ricky. Dobrov ordered me to let you come. I obliged him.”

  “Thanks. Good to see you, too,” I told her, stepping into the room.