Dark Waters: Elemental, #1

By Rain Oxford

Devon Sanders, a private investigator known for his efficiency and discretion, has no interest in getting involved with the paranormal community. Unfortunately for him, the paranormal community does have an interest in him, or at least in his secret. Devon is exceptional in solving cases using his uncanny intuition.

When Devon uncovers a violent murder, he knows it is not a natural crime. To solve this case and expose the murderer, he will have to go undercover as a wizard in the paranormal university, Quintessence. He soon discovers that his talent has more to do with supernatural forces than he ever knew.

Magic is elemental.

Content Advisory: This book is intended for mature audiences and contains violence, disturbing imagery, and strong language.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rain Oxford
• Release date: Jun 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386780076

Rain Oxford

Rain Oxford is a retired teacher who has been writing stories since she was twelve. She attended Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto, Japan. Some of her interests include magic, psychology, and ancient history. She has four children: a Maltese, a Chihuahua, a Great Pyrenees puppy, and a Golden Retriever puppy. The only thing missing in her family is a dragon. When she’s not creating worlds, she enjoys reading, playing the piano, or photographing exotic wildlife.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Why do you want to be a wizard?

The question came as no surprise to me. After extensive research on the prestigious, secretive university, I knew this was one of the questions they used in considering admittance. In my opinion, it was ridiculous.

I want to help people, I answered, as I had practiced.

Two of the professors glanced at each other with obvious suspicion. I wasn’t worried even as Headmaster Logan Hunt folded his hands over a dark blue folder on the table and leaned forward.

The headmaster and twelve professors sat in high-back chairs at the long table. Rumor had it they were all graduates aside from the headmaster, which I found difficult to believe since one of the four women, April Nightshade, looked sixteen. On the other hand, I was assuming she aged like a human. Each of the staff members wore black robes over their dress clothes, which probably had more to do with the frigid temperature of the room and less to do with them being stereotypical wizards.

Five torches positioned around us formed the corners of a pentagram and lit the council room softly. A massive fireplace dominated the north wall behind them while the east wall sported a floor to ceiling bookshelf. Between the school board members and me were a small metal folding table and an uncomfortable metal chair. On the table were various objects used to test my mental skills and natural talent in magic.

One object was a candle, which they sat before me and demanded I light. When I took out my lighter and lit it, my audience was less than impressed. The second object was a rock, which they told me to move without touching. I tipped the table until it rolled off, but that also failed to amaze them. When they told me to draw water out of the air, I picked up the mirror, which they hadn’t asked me to utilize yet, and exhaled on it until the reflective surface fogged up.

Nightshade smirked while the man on her left, Rosin Flagstone, glared. Flagstone had shoulder-length dark brown hair with a five o’clock shadow. There was a glint in his amber-yellow eyes that put me on edge. I was familiar with the sensation; most shifters made my skin crawl. It wasn’t the fact that he could shift into a powerful predator, nor the ability to growl like the wolf inside him that irritated me. An animal and a person combined into one being was unnatural to me. I imagined the person side of the shifter had to be a little savage, while the animal part had to be abnormally intelligent. Predator shifters were most common, which explained why I’d never met a bunny shifter.

The final elemental test they gave me was to create a windstorm. I took a moment to contemplate my task. There were no windows or fans so, after a few minutes, I sighed. I don’t know how.

Did it even occur to you to use magic? one of the women asked. Remington Hunt was in her mid-twenties with a shapely, athletic figure. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, but it was her eyes that were most striking. Her irises were the lightest green in the center, with dark green rings on the outside. She had a naturally tanned, smooth complexion, which I found unusual because her slight accent was European. She was by far the most attractive woman I had seen since I was abruptly and unceremoniously dumped into the paranormal world.

No. I’m here to learn magic, not because I can already do it. My response was perfectly plausible, completely undeniable, and flawlessly practiced.

It was no doubt my quick wit that Hunt was considering as he met my eyes. Most people didn’t do that. Fortunately, I had a killer poker face and a deceptively innocent smile.

Remington was clearly not impressed. As the daughter of the headmaster, she sat immediately to the left of Hunt. I had identified her by her reputation before she introduced herself, for I’d heard of the woman’s beauty. I had also been warned she was a spitfire with a hair trigger, both on her gun and temper.

Logan Hunt had to have been at least fifty, yet he looked to be in his mid-forties. He had dark brown hair, with silver eyes. He was no larger than me, but there was a menacing aura around him, as if he had seen a lot and could take a lot more. I would be careful not to push this man.

Class begins at nine in the morning, Mr. Sanders, Hunt said, still studying me closely.

Hunt and I both knew he was letting me in no matter what I said. Remington, not aware of the situation, gaped at her father. Fortunately, she wasn’t going to question him in front of witnesses.

I will explain the rules to you this once, and you will receive a handbook in the morning, Hunt began. If you have questions, keep them to yourself. Our policy is not like that of public universities, Mr. Sanders. We do not hold you back. You need fifteen credits to graduate from your first circle and eighteen for the remaining four circles. If you fail to meet your credits to graduate, you will not be returning.

I hadn’t planned on returning.

You will have an element and a circle. Every wizard begins with the element we believe will be easiest for them and then goes from there. Your circle is the semester you are in and your ranking. For example, if you are placed in the fire element, you will be a C-One Fire. If you meet a C-Three Fire, that means they have already mastered two elements and are working on fire. We would suggest befriending them.

Not likely.

While you advance through your classes this semester, you will also have a mentor in the element you are assigned. You will meet your elemental master first thing in the morning. If you have not mastered your element by the end of sixteen weeks, you will repeat the semester. You have three chances to master an element, and then you are expelled.

There was little heart behind his words, for he knew this was merely for show. The others in the room had to believe that I was here as a regular student. You just said you don’t hold anyone back.

If you lack enough credits, you get no chance to make it up. However, if you do make enough credits, but you do not pass your elemental training, you can return. You will take different classes and still have to earn enough credits, so you are still moving forward with your education, you just cannot graduate until you have passed all five elements.

So it could take fifteen semesters to graduate if someone wasn’t good at the elements.

Our professors are highly trained in the art of education. How they educate is up to them. Each professor has the right to flunk you from his or her class for any reason. They also have the right to discipline you as they see fit. For example, if you are late, they can assign a punishment. If you refuse, they could decide to flunk you from their class. Some of the professors may require you to do questionable exercises. If their practices offend your moral boundaries, do not complain to us.

We strongly suggest you do whatever your professor asks of you no matter how unreasonable, Mrs. Ashcraft, the deputy principal said.

Except for Professor Langril, Nightshade said quickly. He’s completely insane. We try not to put C-One students in his class, because they keep disappearing. She had short, orange hair with yellow streaks and ice-blue eyes. Whatever she was, I would have a hard time taking her seriously because I expected her to start talking about her nails or something. She honestly didn’t even look seventeen.

Hunt nodded thoughtfully. Thank you, April. As I’m sure you are aware, communication with the outside world is restricted for the safety of our students. Furthermore, magic often interferes with electricity. Therefore, all use of electronic devices on school property is strictly prohibited.

That would make things more difficult. I couldn’t resist a check of my watch. It was analog, and when I held it up to my ear, I could hear it ticking.

Watches are allowed, but they do not last long here, Hunt said. For the sake of secrecy, exiting the school grounds during the semester without a professor’s supervision or written permission from myself or Mrs. Ashcraft is calls for immediate expulsion.

If you get caught, Nightshade added.

Yes, thank you, April. Fighting other than on the practice field is discouraged, but unless you anger a professor or damage school property, how you deal with your classmates is your business. Everyone here is over eighteen and would not be here if they could not defend themselves. If you do damage school property, be prepared to fix it.

Unless you die, Nightshade said helpfully.

Yes, thank you, April.

How many non-wizards are in this school? I thought wizards were pretty picky about who they kept around.

Hunt folded his hands over the file. It struck me as a bad sign. Mr. Sanders, we hold every person accountable for his or her actions. We do not hold their race or gender against them. Wizards make up the majority of our school, but fae and shifters are also welcome here.

I only knew basic information about fae and shifters. Shifters were also called shapeshifters (not were-somethings) they could only shift into one animal, it was a full shift (they didn’t have a partial, man-beast form) and the full moon didn’t control them. Fae were like wizards in that they could do magic, except the magic was limited to just a few powers. However, they were much better at those powers than wizards were. Also like wizards, they looked human. The rest of my knowledge was based on rumors.

Not vampires, though. It was a statement, not a question.

Hunt narrowed his eyes slightly. For the safety of our students, we cannot allow a vampire into our school.

Good, I said. I have nothing against fae or shifters, but vampires are a pain in the neck.

Nightshade laughed, but Hunt was not amused. As one who tries to encourage equality in the paranormal world, I find that sort of humor tasteless, he said. Nightshade laughed harder. Professor Nightshade will show you to your dorm room.

She abruptly stopped laughing, stood with a solemn expression, and ambled around the table. Come with me.

She seemed to have a sweet demeanor even though she must have been a powerful witch to be on the school board. Or a powerful something... I followed her out of the boardroom into the dimly lit hallway.

The walls were all stone and the floor was waxed hardwood that creaked underfoot. I bet this gets loud during the day, I said.

This school was originally designed by a psychopath. I don’t remember his name, only that he was German. Some say he built this as a home to drive his family insane, after which he slaughtered them all and then himself. Others say his wife murdered his children and then he killed his wife. He was so afraid of her seeking vengeance in death that he built this place to confuse her spirit. You will find stairways that lead to walls and doors that open to nothing. There is a room on the third floor that was built tilted with a window in the floor that overlooks one of the classrooms.

That’s weird. It wasn’t my first or second thought, but it was the least rude.

Fortunately, you will not have to visit this section of the castle often. There are maps in case you get lost. Of course, the maps are often wrong.

Because of renovations to the school?

Because the rooms change, she corrected.

The dorms were in a smaller, separate building on the west end of the campus with short observation towers on each of the four corners. Where do the professors stay?

In the dormitory. The entire top floor is ours. Also, I’m going to warn you now to address us exactly as we tell you to. Rosin Flagstone is the only wolf shifter on staff, so he keeps the wolf shifters in line. If you have trouble with a wolf you cannot handle, take it to him. Anyway, he is referred to as ‘Alpha Flagstone’ by everyone.

What do you teach?

I teach the history of magic classes. Your schedule will be provided to you by your elemental master in the morning.

We don’t get to pick our classes?

Your first semester classes are chosen for you. Each semester after that, you will have increasing influence.

We had reached the dorms and April led me through the dark hallways, which had simple gray carpet and white drywall. The doors were close together, like in a hotel, which didn’t bode well for the size of the rooms. At least it was clean.

My room was at the end of the hall on the fourth floor. April didn’t bother to knock and instead turned the knob and opened the door. Inside, the room was twelve-by-twelve with three twin-sized loft-beds. Under the suspended beds were writing desks, each with a small bookshelf on the left of the desk and a dresser on the right. Two of the beds were against the north wall, and the last was on the west beside a big window that overlooked the lake. The only other door, which I assumed opened into a closet, was on the south wall. The floor was dark blue carpet while the walls were white. Since there was no electricity, the light came from three gas light sconces, one over each of the desks.

Two of the beds were dressed with blankets and pillows and had the desks under them set up with books, papers, and personal effects. My two black travel cases were on the desk under the empty bed on the west wall.

Just another part of the job...

What? April asked.

Shit. This was going to be hard enough without mind readers. I didn’t say anything. Effectively brushing her off, I went to my bags and started unpacking them. She shut the door, leaving me alone, so I climbed the ladder to the bed and gingerly lay down. I was too old for a loft-bed.

As I tried to convince myself the bed was somewhat comfortable, I considered where I was a week before.

* * *

I was a regular private investigator. I did my job discreetly, and although my number was hard to come by, I had plenty of business. Most of my work consisted of things like uncovering embezzlement in large corporations or spying on husbands of wealthy, spoiled wives. It wasn’t a fun job and I rarely had good news for my clients, but it was a career and I didn’t go home stressed over it.

My bills were paid and there was food in the fridge, so I was doing well. In fact, I could afford to be selective of the cases I accepted. I already knew the paranormal community existed, but I kept my mouth shut and stuck to human cases, particularly those that were mundane to a fault. They were predictable, and I never had to worry if my client was going to turn me into a frog or eat me.

It was only by my exceptional skills in overhearing information that I was able to learn anything about Logan Hunt’s university. I was usually in the right place at the right time, thanks to my natural intuition and inquisitive nature. Even on strictly ordinary cases, I would find myself wandering behind an abandoned warehouse and stopping when I heard hushed voices.

Most people— most humans— knew nothing about the paranormal beings they shared this world with. I knew there were four factions of paranormals; wizards, vampires, fae, and shifters. I also knew they placed secrecy highest in priority, which meant any human that knew of them was a threat or a pawn. I didn’t like either of those options, so I kept my knowledge to myself.

So how did I, a human, end up attending a paranormal university?

It began as a restless sensation. I trusted my intuition, and it was telling me to get my ass out of town. Since I was in the middle of a case, I pushed the warning aside. Apparently, stopping an elementary-level hacker was worth more than my life.

I began waking in the middle of the night full of adrenaline, as if I had been running or was in danger. I felt eyes watching me when I was alone. After three days of this, I’d had enough. I went to my office, put up my closed sign, locked the door, and started to turn off my computer. The plane ticket in my pocket to Hawaii was one-way.

The door opened and the bell tolled over it. I looked up from my computer screen, startled, because I knew I had locked it. The man who entered was tall, dark, and thin in an ominous way. He strolled into my office without looking around, tossed a thousand dollars in twenties on my desk, and said, You are going to help me find my daughter.

Had it been for anything else but a missing child, I would have told him I was unavailable. I never asked how a person found my name, because I knew my clients were low-key about it. Although I stayed out of shady deals, my clients were often embarrassed that they needed an investigator. The way I saw it, if someone found me, they needed the best and were willing to pay high fees for it.

How old is she? I grabbed my notebook, ready for him to tell me that his seventeen-year-old ran off with her boyfriend. I was contracted for runaways more often than I cared to count, but if the kid was legal, there was nothing I could do for the parents. Some parents didn’t take that well, and this man struck me as the overbearing, stubborn, unreasonable type.

She is eight.

I stopped writing and studied him. Overbearing, yes, but he didn’t strike me as a mobster. He wore black pants and a black, high-collared shirt tucked into his pants. No place for a gun, no gang signs, no visible tattoos. His short black hair was clean, not greasy or matted. His deep-set, dark brown eyes were cold, but I could attribute that to his situation. He had high cheekbones, light skin, frown lines on his forehead, and a crescent scar from the right edge of his mouth to the sharp edge of his chin.

My intuition warned me to watch myself. You should go to the police with this. If she was kidnapped or lost, the police have a better chance of getting her back. They have more people and resources.

This is a family matter, Mr. Sanders. I do not want this getting into the media.

So a family member took her? I usually refused cases involving custody battles. I saw the child as a victim no matter how it turned out, and I didn’t want to be part of that. If the child’s life was in danger, it was a different matter, but that was rarely the case.

No, she was kidnapped. I will pay twice your usual fee, plus expenses, and this, he pushed the stack of twenties at me, is a bonus to give my case priority.

I almost told him I had no cases at the time, but I figured it would make up for the money I wasted on my plane ticket. I wanted to reject the case, but I had the feeling he wasn’t going to the police no matter how much danger the child was in.

What is your name and how can I contact you?

My name is John Cross. My daughter is Reagan Vegas, and she was last seen at her elementary school. I will contact you when you have found her. With that, he walked out of the office.

I sighed. Give me a tomato and ask me to make lemonade. How John expected me to find his daughter without even giving me the name of her school, I didn’t know, but I was paid well for a reason; I was good at my job.

Reagan Vegas was not a common name, and I knew she was in second, third, or fourth grade. Location meant nothing; John could have traveled hundreds of miles to find me. First I searched John’s name on Google and found nothing, not even a Facebook page. There were others with the name, but none with the appropriate picture.

I searched for Reagan Vegas, and Honor Roll. I was surprised a third-grader could get on the honors list, but there she was, so I had the name of her school. Since my car was in the clutches of my ex-wife, I borrowed my friend’s spare car and drove three hours to the small town. First I got a motel because I didn’t know how long it would take. Knowing the best place to get information in this kind of town was at the local diner, I walked down the main street to the school and found a diner across from it.

The town was quaint to a fault; it was the type where a young couple would have car troubles, be forced to stop for the night, and were never seen again. This was the type of town where people would come together to cover up their dark secrets.

The waitress smiled at me as soon as I entered and asked if I wanted a booth or a table. When I said a booth, she looked behind me and asked if it was just one.

Yes, I said happily. Just one was plenty