Page 59 of The Elementalist
“That’s fine,” said Crystal in a tone that changed the meaning to ‘eat a dick.’
He either ignored it or missed it, nodded, and disappeared. A second after the screen went dark, the large iron gate in front of us motored inward, the end rolling on a fat little tire like thekind you see on a riding lawn mower.
Crystal drove in, circled the fountain, and pulled into one of five parking spaces labeled ‘visitor’ on the left side. She didn’t say anything, but her short, harsh motions turning off the ignition and getting out told me she hated feeling like a ‘visitor’ at her childhood home. Whatever animosity existed between her and Grandmother Bradbury didn’t appear to be enough to get over her attachment to this old place. Spend enough years as a child somewhere and it’s forever ‘home.’
Her high heels (dark blue like the dress) clicked over the pavement. I put on my best attempt at a high society bearing and followed. Hey, I’d seen Titanic. I’m hardly Jack Dawson, but I can fake it. Maybe.
We stepped up onto an enormous porch with ivy-enshrouded columns, fancy brickwork and old wicker furniture. The place looked like a cross between Dracula’s estate and one of those creepy ass British manor houses from likeFlowers in the Attic. This place had secrets, I had no doubt—and most of them probably ran on the ugly side. Tall multi-panel windows looked in on a sitting room decorated in dark colors as well as an entry foyer.
A brown-haired woman in a black polo shirt and leggings—no doubt a servant of some form—appeared in the distance and hurried over to the door with an expression that made her look like she did something she expected to get in trouble for. The woman opened the door for us and backed out of the way. Crystal offered a friendly nod to her, then looked around at the foyer as well as a giant chandelier above us. I expected a wistful sigh of longing, but her expression hardened to one of rebellious defiance. Maybe I misjudged her and she didn’t really miss the place. Being here might make her think about Dana’s death.
The woman wordlessly led us down the hall, into a hallway on the left, and to a set of dark mahogany double doors. Sheopened those and stepped inside, waiting for us to enter before closing them behind us.
I felt like we’d walked into the set of an old movie. With the exception of there being electric lights on the walls, the décor gave off an early 1900s vibe. An older woman with dark pewter-grey hair sat in a wingback chair on the left side of the room. Her dress, similar in color to Crystal’s, appeared plainer, though probably still cost a ridiculous amount. I’d guess her age around seventy, though she had a severe presence that made me feel somewhat like we’d been sent to the principal’s office.
Grandma Bradbury, of course.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Darth Grandma
Crystal approached her grandmother, standing a short distance in front of her as though she’d come to seek an audience with a queen.
“This better be good,” said the elder Bradbury.
I walked over to stand next to Crystal. Since she didn’t sit, I made no move to either.
The grandmother gave me the most casual of glances as if noting me a servant brought along for whatever purpose.
“Nigel Farrington is the reason Dana was killed.”
A small crack appeared in the old woman’s absolute lack of interest in being near Crystal. Her expression softened almost imperceptibly, eyebrows easing back from their furrow. “I trust you have something more than an accusation?”
“We do, but it’s not the sort of thing that would sway the police, nor would I be foolish enough to take it to them. Nigel sent two of his vampires to kill her knowing it would lure me back here from Ironside.”
Slight dimples formed on either side of Grandmother’s mouth, the most minimal of unimpressed smirks. “And why do you think you are significant enough for such a plot?”
Something about having the power of the elements at my disposal, daydreaming about this old bat’s reaction to me ripping down this whole house—or at least doing a ton of damage to it—allowed me to keep on a pleasant face. All this wealth and fanciness didn’t mean a damn thing to nature. In fact, the place stank of death. Not in the same way that coming within breathing range of a vampire did, but I didn’t doubt such creatures had been here, and often. Mayor Bradbury hadn’t been one, but I had started wondering if referring to politicians as bloodsuckers might be more than metaphorical around here.
“The man is an arcanist,” said Crystal. “He wants to take my essence and use it to empower some sort of artifact. They almost succeeded in abducting me.” She held her hand out toward me. “We have video of him personally trying to kill us.”
I handed over my phone. Crystal played it, holding the phone up so the old woman could see.
“That is indeed Nigel. He seems rather perturbed,” said the grandmother. “Why are you pestering me with any of this?”
“He’s going to continue pursuing me until one of us is dead. I’d hoped you might have some leverage you could exploit to encourage him to forget about me.”
The old one nearly laughed. “Dana is already lost. Why would I even begin to consider acting onyourbehalf after what you’ve done?”
Crystal shivered, though I couldn’t quite tell if it came from rage, sadness, or fear.
“There’s also the matter of what this guy wants to do with it,” I said.
Grandmother looked up at me as astonished as if she’d witnessed a gorilla speak.
“He’s going to do one of three things with her essence: craft an item that allows him to control people’s minds or, create something that allows a person to become invisible. Or, worse—and probably the one he’s thinking of—create a ring or amulet that gives him irresistible charm. No matter what he does, anyone in his presence would find him wonderful and do whatever he asked of them. Now, I’m no genius here, but who do you think this guy is going to turn such an item against? Normal people?” I shook my head. “He’s going to use it to shift the balance of power among the families. If you won’t act to protect your granddaughter, at least act out of self-interest.”
“She is most certainlynotmy granddaughter,” said the old woman.
