Treasure of the Fire Kingdom (The Elemental Phases Book 4)

“Stop
interrupting her, Alder.” Djinn jabbed a finger at his son, who was pacing
around the perimeter of the dim room with sharp, agitated movements. “None of
us understand it. But, she’s not reading it for us. It’s for Oberon.”

“Well,
I’m sure he doesn’t like it, either. The book’s driving me nuts, trying to
prop up these losers like their love is so great. He’s a lunatic sadist.
She’s a frivolous bitch... And
dead
. Fucking deal with it and move the
hell on.”

Alder
absently kicked a red footstool into the wall as he past it. He didn’t bother
glancing after it as it hit a table and knocked three framed photographs of the
family at Disney World, a candy dish full of bullets, and a TV remote onto the
floor. Oberon’s room was large, but even it couldn’t contain the restless
energy of so many Fire Phases.

“I
don’t understand why Cathy didn’t just marry Linton and then behead him on
their wedding night while he slept.” Missy mused as if the whole concept of
not committing murder-for-profit was beyond her. “It only makes sense. Then,
she’d get the money
and
she could
marry Heathcliff. Problem
solved.”

“Exactly!”
Alder raised his hand at his sister and let it fall in a “
finally
someone else sees!” sort of gesture. “Or Heathcliff could have just killed
whozits-the-rich-guy, himself. How hard is it to kill
one
human!?
That’s what
I’d
do if some other guy tried to steal
my
Match.”

“What
does it matter what we read?” The weariness in Teja’s voice made it totally
unrecognizable. She was slumped in a chair, her eyes unfocused as she watched
her grandfather’s chest slowly move up and down. “Do you really think anything
matters, now?”

Alder
glowered over at his aunt. “Well, I wanna make sure Oberon
enjoys
this
story, okay, Teja?” He was trying to keep his voice low, but it was difficult
for any Fire Phase to whisper. Their personalities were just too big to dial
down, even when surrounded by death and despair. “What if this is the last
book he ever reads, huh?” His jaw tightened and he quickly shook that idea
away. “No. I mean, it
won’t
be, because he’ll recover from this. But
still...”

“He’s
in a coma.” Even for a Fire Phase, Satour was a blunt,
the-glass-is-half-empty-and-probably-broken kind of guy. From the time Oberon
got sick, his pessimism had been worse than ever before. This level of bitter
resignation was the equivalent of someone else sobbing on the floor. “Oberon
can’t hear it, anyway.”

“I
know he’s in a fucking coma, but he’s not fucking dead!” Unlike his brother,
Alder wouldn’t give up on Oberon until the man drew his final breath. “He
can
still hear, jackass. Maybe, anyway. The doctor said so. So, why can’t
she read him something he’d actually pick for himself, huh? Like porn or
something?”

“She’s
his granddaughter, you moron.” Satour shot back. “You think he wants to hear
his granddaughter reading him
porn?
”

Alder
wasn’t backing down. “Oh, so now he
can
hear, huh? I thought he
was...”

“Both
of you stop it.” Pele interjected before her sons came to blows. On their
most agreeable days, they weren’t above a fist fight. Or sword fight. Or
setting each other on fire. At the moment, with tensions running so high, they
might actually do some real damage. “Satour, you’re being a bigger
pain-in-the-ass than usual. And Alder, you know the doctor said that
voices
are what’s important, not fast paced plotlines.”

The
two of them looked poised to continue the argument, but a dark voice came from
the furthest corner of the room and cut them off.

“Let
her read what she wants. If Oberon can hear anything, it’ll be Hope.”

Everyone
turned to look at Qadesh in surprise.

That
was the first thing he’d said since the beginning of the plague. It was also
the first time in hours his parents and siblings had thought to include the
subject of their arguments in the actual conversations. In unison, their focus
shifted to Hope, of the Fire House, who sat on the edge of Oberon’s mattress,
the book in her hands.

“Okay.
Right. So… What do
you
wanna read, Hope?” Pele sounded surprised that
Hope would even have an opinion.

The
Fire House sort of expected Hope to just go along with whatever they decided.
Probably because she always did. They were always so confident and
self-assured in their path that it seemed crazy to stop and ask for directions.

The
Fire Phases were Hope’s idols. Her role models. From the time she was a
little girl, Hope had been overwhelmed with the greatness of the Fire Phases.
She’d come to them an orphan and Oberon had accepted her as part of his family.

Frankie,
of the Heat House, Pele’s uncle, had found Hope one summer morning, a hundred
and twelve years before. At a few days old, she’d been abandoned in the Agora,
the Elementals’ free space. No one knew exactly where she came from or who her
parents were. Frankie had scooped her up, brought her to the Fire Kingdom,
handed her to Oberon and said, “This one says she belongs with you.”

Since
Hope was an infant at the time, she was fairly certain she’d told him no such
thing. But, then Frankie was nuts. That was a well-known, often lamented,
fact. Who knew what kind of voices he heard? Who even
wanted
to know?
Still, Frankie, was one of the few people that Oberon respected.

Oberon
had taken Hope from Frankie and squinted down at her. He was a gigantic man,
with an intimidating glower and hands the size of catchers’ mitts. According
to all the stories she’d been told later, Oberon lifted Hope up so they were
face-to-face and scowled. Hope’s response was to smile at him. Her midnight
blue eyes had locked with Oberon’s brown gaze and they’d just... clicked.

“Of
course she belongs here.” He authoritatively declared and gave her a little
bounce in his arms.

And
that was that.

Oberon
simply kept her. He moved her into the gothic Fire Palace and gave her
everything he’d given to his biological grandchildren. All the training and
attention and blind stubborn devotion. He’d never even insinuated that she
wasn’t a full-fledged member of the Fire Kingdom. And it wasn’t like anyone
else was lining up to claim Hope for
their
House or fighting Oberon for
custody. Hope wasn’t just an orphan, she was a genetic anomaly.

A
freak.

All
Phases had a colored streak of hair at their temple, designating their House.
For the Fire Phases the marker was red, for the Water Phases it was turquoise,
for the Heat Phases it was orange and so on. Only Hope didn’t
have
a
distinguishing stripe in her ordinary blonde curls.

She’d
been born without a House.

Without
powers.

At
least, no powers she could control. The only thing she’d ever managed to
accomplish with her nonexistent “energy” was jumping from one kingdom to
another. And even then, there was only a slim chance that she’d land in the
right spot. When it came to harnessing any real powers, she was as helpless as
a human. In fact, sometimes other Phases confused her with one.

By
any objective standard, she was a useless addition to her House. Her horrible
birth defect was no doubt why her parents had abandoned her in the first
place. No one wanted a deformed child. But, the Fire Kingdom had given her a
home and a name. Food, shelter, love, acceptance. In her heart, Oberon
was
her grandfather. Teja and Djinn, Oberon’s biological grandchildren, were
her
family, too. So were Djinn’s kids and Pele, his Match.

She
loved them all beyond anything.

Granted,
some of the other –no doubt jealous-- Houses compared her family to the human
mafia, just because they got into a few small fights and occasionally wound up
on the wrong side of the Council.

Sure,
the Fire Phases were a bit outspoken and sometimes got pushed into
confrontations, but they weren’t to blame for
every
violent crime in the
realm, like so many people seemed to believe. Every time there was a
mysterious disappearance or a horrific murder or some unexplained arson, the
rest of the Elementals were quick to point the finger at the poor Fire House.
Even when there was no – or, okay,
circumstantial
-- proof.

Because
of their blackened reputation, Hope felt fiercely protective of her family.
The Fire Phases were an upstanding and honorable House.
Warriors
, not
mobsters. Hope would have died for them. Traded her life for any of them in a
heartbeat.

If
only someone had given her a choice.

Hope
looked down at Oberon’s calm, sleeping face and felt moisture burning the back
of her eyelids. How could her grandfather be dying like this? Fire Phases
should go out gloriously, battling for some beautiful lost cause or saving the
universe from evil alien overlords. They ought to have some fantastical end
that people would remember forever and write odes about. They
deserved
to go out like the heroes they were. Not like this. Not succumbing to this
terrible illness.

The
Fall.

How
could this tiny microbe rob him of all that vitality? Shrink his skin against
his bones and devour him from the inside out? Oberon was so always powerful
and so
alive
. How could this be happening?

The
plague had begun three days before, released by Parald, of the Air House. He’d
meant it as germ warfare against his enemies, but the disease quickly spread
through all the Houses, infecting indiscriminately. In the Elemental realm,
the dead now outnumbered the living ten to one and the illness kept spreading.

It
wasn’t just Oberon who was dying; it was everyone. All the Elementals Phases.
Or at least, most of them. Hope felt fine and she didn’t see any symptoms in
the rest of her family, yet. But, even if they were somehow immune, it wouldn’t
matter.

Without
the Elementals, the world would end.

Intellectually,
Hope knew that every living thing in the universe was real close to winking out
like a light. All she could really focus on, though, was willing her
grandfather to get well. He’d gotten sick so fast. Just a few hours before
he’d been his normal boisterous self. To see him like this, so still and
gray… It was like someone had ripped out her heart.

There
was nothing she could do for the dying world, but she could try and comfort her
grandfather with the sound of her voice. If it
was
the end and she
died, too… Well, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than sitting with her
family, arguing about what book to read.

Nowhere
in the universe.

Hope
cleared her throat, against another bout of tears. “This is... um...
Wuthering
Heights
.” She held up the leather bound tome for Alder to see. Hope
actually liked the story. “I could switch to
Valley of the Dolls
, if
you’d rather. I have it here, too. I just grabbed two books from the library,
earlier. I didn’t check the titles. I don’t want to go and get different
ones, though, because he might not...” She trailed off, blinking hard,
unwilling to finish the thought.

She
didn’t want to leave the room, because Oberon might not be there when she
returned.

Oh
God...

Against
her will, tears started falling, again. The book tumbled from Hope’s hand.
Her palm grabbed the edge of the
Star Wars
bed sheets, bringing it up to
her mouth to muffle her weeping, just in case Oberon really could still hear
her somehow. Alder was right. The last doctor they tried had said was it was
possible that he was somehow aware of his surroundings, even deep inside the
coma. Her grandfather wouldn’t want to listen to her sob.

Satour
glared over at his brother, blaming him for Hope’s emotional outburst.
“Idiot.
Now
look what you did.”

Alder
gasped in outrage. “How is it my fault!?”

“It’s
my fault.” Hope whispered, her doubts eating away at her. “He wouldn’t be
dying if it wasn’t for me.”

She
knew it.

Hope
was a jinx. She always had been.

Random
crazy accidents just befell her. Socks went missing. Refrigerators fell
through floors. Alder got stuck in unexplored realms for two weeks with no
food. Microphones shorted out during Job’s Council speeches and electrified
him. (Granted, Oberon had thought that was hilarious, but Hope was still
mortified that she’d zapped the Phases’ leader, just by standing too close to
him.) Once buffalo had stampeded through the living room and there
weren’t
any buffalo in the Elemental Realm.

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