Like a Torrent

by Olivette Devaux

  None of that worked for him.

  As he watched Ash kick one of his boxes toward the door listlessly, worry tightened his lips again. Not even the smell of coffee, or Cooper’s soothing touch, drew a smile on Ash’s face. Ash’s depression was all the more alarming, because it had always been Ash and not Cooper who offered perspective on significant events. It had always been Ash who soothed Cooper’s feathers, and who had guided him toward a place of confidence when it came to the use of his talent.

  That Ash was now gone, and Cooper wanted him back.

  But Cooper had his own perspective on what had occurred.

  They could’ve all died.

  Worse, they could’ve failed to contain the rogue power source, or their efforts could have triggered an earthquake that would have cost both lives and property throughout the region.

  All things considered, they’d done an okay job. One man, one sword, and one ground-stone were sacrificed in the event. From the way Ash had been acting, losing his sword was more like Cooper losing Jared, than Cooper giving up his ground-stone. He had never realized how attached Ash had been to his blade. It was ruined now, of course. Cooper would see if he could restore its hilt and polish the cutting surface to make it look presentable, but he never expected to use it for anything but practice.

  As Cooper checked the basement, and the bath enclosure in it, for items they might be accidentally leaving behind, he indulged himself in feeling the ground underfoot for one last time.

  He extended his senses. He felt the cool, gritty strata underfoot, and he saw the network of public utilities and the not-so-public, old mining tunnels further away. He would miss this place and the daily connection to the earth he had through its concrete floor. As he spread his talent around, feeling the neighborhood and reveling in the richness of its underground world, he stumbled over the void that had once been filled by the vibrant presence of his ground-stone.

  Its absence was palpable. Cooper figured it was like missing a limb. He used to hear stories about men who had lost an arm or a leg in the war or during a logging accident. He had heard about the ghost pains and ghost sensations that came from the long-lost ghost limb. Losing the ground-stone, or rather sacrificing it, had resulted in a similar effect.

  He had lost something that had become, in a very short time, a true part of him. Something that was imbued with his life energy. The talent, which he used to sense the earth under him and around him, was the same life force that allowed him to breathe in and out, that permitted his cells to replicate as necessary. The loss of the pendant his grandfather had made for him was painful, and so were the continued backlash headaches.

  Now, without the ground-stone’s protection, Cooper had to exert himself more when it came to the maintenance of his shields. Combined with the latent effects of the node event, a low-level migraine became his almost-constant companion. Overuse of his newfound skills wasn’t going to make his head feel any better, he reminded himself as he quit his probing. Then he gathered a forgotten bottle of laundry detergent and dragged himself up the narrow staircase one more time. For the first time in a long while, he forgot to duck, and yelped when the low beam whacked his forehead.

  “Here,” Ash said when Cooper made his way into the kitchen. “Sit down and drink this.” He pushed a cup of tea into Cooper’s hands. Chamomile, and something else.

  “What’s in it?” Cooper asked suspiciously.

  “I added some valerian,” Ash said. “It’s kind of similar to a natural Valium. It should soothe you down. I didn’t add any of the reishi extract, because we’re running low. You should still take some, though. Would you like it on the spoon straight, or would you like it over sugar?”

  A dry chuckle tore out of Cooper’s throat. “I’ll take it neat.”

  When Ash smiled gently, Cooper realized this was the first smile he had seen on him in a week. “Spoken like a true elementalist.”

  Ash produced a vial of dark glass, measured out a generous tablespoon, and passed it to Cooper. “Knock it back, hot shot! You do me proud.”

  Cooper did, drawing strength from Ash’s words. Even though his enthusiasm was still strained, it marked a huge improvement over the depressed sorrow of the past seven days.

  Ash was proud of him. A flutter rose in Cooper’s chest, one that hinged around a sense of approval and acceptance and permanence. Every time he and Ash did something important, something like this – be it working with their talents, or working side by side while painting an interior, Cooper was buoyed by a profound sense of accomplishment. The tasks they finished as a couple always put a smile on his face.

  He slurped down the vile, bitter mushroom tincture, schooling his face so as not to reveal his utter disgust. Slowly, deliberately, he blew over the hot surface of the herbal tea and took a tentative sip. “Not bad,” Cooper said. “The honey’s a nice touch.”

  “Honey for my honey.” Ash bent over Cooper and deposited a light, gentle kiss on his forehead – his first kiss in days. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

  Cooper looked up and returned Ash’s smile. “This was a tough week for both of us. For the whole team.”

  Ash nodded. “It was.”

  “We’re allowed to grieve,” Cooper said.

  “For people, yes. Grieving for objects is... self-indulgent. It’s just a sword, Cooper. It doesn’t even compare to you losing your cousin.”

  Cooper drank some tea. It was hotter than he’d prefer for this time of the year, but Ash had made it for him, and Cooper was determined to accept his gesture of caring and love with the same enthusiasm with which it had been offered.

  “It’s not just any sword,” Cooper said, and not only for Ash’s benefit. It was his sword now, and he wouldn’t have it dissed.

  “I know.” A multi-layered answer. Ash waited, then took the empty cup away from him, and gave Cooper a serious look. “When you feel better, you and I have some catching up to do.”

  THE SORT OF catching up which Ash had in mind was of the carnal variety. Cooper was amazing and gorgeous and kind, and for Ash, he was far beyond merely attractive. The gentle curve his mouth made when he smiled warmed him, the uneven, sensuous line his lips described when he put on a playful pout enticed him. His wide shoulders and flat abs, his tenacious determination to make something out of himself despite his setbacks, hurled Ash at Cooper with the force of a tsunami. Cooper wasn’t merely attractive, he’d been as sexy as all get out from the very first time he had laid eyes upon him. Cooper in action, though? He was irresistible. Nothing could be more mesmerizing, or more awe-inspiring, than watching Cooper seated in a lotus position as he wrestled stone and fire in practice.

  He recalled the ethereal vision of Cooper, as he had stood over the node, wrapped in gauzy vapors that remained of the steam explosion which Ash’s effort had caused. Cooper’s hand, outstretched and giving it his all. Cooper’s crinkled brow, as he focused his energy to shield the world from harm.

  Controlling the elements that had defied him in the past, working through the puzzle of the node and the searing pain of its energies, Cooper had been accepting helpful frequencies from Ash and from Jared while feeding them into strong, useful shields. When Ash had heard Cooper’s scream of pain, he had thought he had lost him forever. That moment had been a dark place, a time when Ash was desperately, head over heels in love not only with Cooper, but also with the everyday business of living side by side.

  All that was over now.

  With the node under control, the danger of earthquakes and sudden, drenching storms had passed, and Ash was quite certain that they could consummate their love without a ground-stone. The long-term goal of being with Cooper had made the last few days bearable.

  Ash could barely wait to have the right opportunity to lavish his full attention on Cooper and make him lose control to a superior level of pleasure. He wanted to give him a safe space to just let it rip, while he buried himself within Ash’s core, eagerly accepted by the heat of Ash’s body.<
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  Ash wanted to feel him inside, penetrating and welcome, feeling the joy and the pleasure of their union. He knew it wouldn’t be just physical. It wouldn’t be like what used to happen with other guys, boyfriends without special talent, or the talented few, who were all on a different energy frequency and holding back for fear of unintended consequences.

  Unlike he and Cooper. Add to it the way they were attuned to each other, and no wonder their almost-public rut had given so much energy to the rest of the team.

  The experience had been as exhilarating as it had been awkward.

  Now, though, they could dare to hope that their relationship could become fully physical. The torturous wait was worth it. Now that the torrid energy currents underground were tamed and contained, Ash was determined to find a way in which he and Cooper could rock the world, but not destroy it.

  CHAPTER 22

  Ash hovered twenty feet underwater. Wearing just hiking shorts with a zipper pocket that held his car keys, with his old and ratty Keds sneakers securely laced on his feet, he faced upstream and felt the current of the Allegheny River caress his bare skin.

  It whispered news of a small tributary to his right. A creek whose name was not known to him, at least not in the language of fellow humans, but now he knew that its water was clean and clear, and that it had frolicked down a set of rapids and a waterfall further inland. He resolved to visit the waterfall soon, but for now, he turned away from it.

  His water sense was disrupted by a landmass to his left, and this rock formation interested him. He knew it to be the Sycamore Island. That’s what it was called on the maps. It was long and narrow, and was currently uninhabited, although it had been a home to a recreational marina several decades prior. Currently, the island was under the protection of a local conservancy group. According to their website, camping on the island was permitted.

  The possibility of camping on an island in the middle of the river interested Ash greatly, because it promised a compromise of sorts. If things worked out the way he hoped they would, the island would provide a situation which would surround them with all the water Cooper needed to wash away the excess energy he was likely to release.

  For powerful elementalists, planning for sex was never simple.

  Had Ash been able to chuckle under water, he would have.

  The landmass of the island would ground Cooper, the flow of the river around them would insulate him. What could be better?

  From the state of his iridescent skin, the surface of which gleamed in the shafts and beams of sunlight that filtered through the lazy flow of Allegheny River, Ash estimated he had at least 15 minutes underwater. He flattened out horizontally, stretching his whole surface into the welcoming waters, letting his skin accept every single molecule of necessary oxygen. After a rest period of less than one minute, Ash set out in easy, graceful strokes toward the Sycamore Island. He carved his way, accepting the water’s lavish caress. The hot and muggy July weather in Pittsburgh made staying under the surface a welcome and pleasant respite.

  Soon, the depth of the channel dredged for cargo barges gave way to water so shallow, that had he been standing in the silt, he would have had less than 10 feet of water overhead. As he swam on, he began to discern the shapes of rocks underneath. Closer to the shore, where the current slowed down, he spotted a large truck tire, standing on its edge, propped against the boulder. How it had gotten there was a mystery.

  He briefly considered diving for it.

  No. The action would’ve depleted him of oxygen, plus he would have to fight the current to haul his cargo to dry land.

  He resolved to retrieve the tire another time. For now, Ash floated, propelled by an easy kick or two, until the rocks and silt gave way to sand and river pebbles people had dumped by the small island beach off a barge. As soon as he could stand up, Ash did so, and looked around.

  He stood in chest-deep water, perhaps fifteen feet away from the shore. It was obvious that this side of the island was used on a regular basis. He waded out of the water, crossed the ten-foot beach, and scaled the steel beams and recycled railroad ties which stabilized the small, twelve-foot cliff leading up to the island proper.

  He paused on top, still holding on to the thick jute rope that trailed down the improvised staircase. A strange, unexpected barrier had him stop in his tracks.

  He examined it.

  It wasn’t physical, and it wasn’t made of a shield of power. Rather, the whole island was delightfully silent, as though the quietitude itself was a music that followed its own rhythm and a unique, impenetrable melody. The calm splashing of wavelets against the beach inundated his senses and was underscored by the occasional, carefree twitter of birds in the treetops far away.

  So this was where people could camp, Ash thought to himself, as he ventured forth to explore a place that, to him, held a promise of a newfound paradise.

  THE MORE ASH pondered the problem of his and Cooper’s joining, and the potential unintended consequences thereof, the more creative solutions he discovered.

  At least in theory.

  They could, theoretically, make love in the water. Of course Cooper didn’t much care for being in the river, because he couldn’t swim better than one of the boulders he could read so well. The bathtub in the basement of the old Mary Street apartment had been too small and crowded to give them the space necessary for anything resembling mutual enjoyment, even had Ash thought of the option back when they still lived there. Their current house had a bathtub on the first floor, but only a shower in the basement. The bath tub was standard size, not large enough for synchronized swimming of the kind Ash had in mind. The shower was a standard, one-person affair made of a fiber-glass shell and with a glass door.

  If the key to the dissipation of Cooper’s power release during an orgasm was water, an island love-nest just might offer a solution to their unusual problem.

  Once Ash walked up and down the forested island and took in its general topography, he plunged back into the languid and welcoming waters of the Allegheny. He swam into the middle of the south shore channel and hovered above the sediment, suspended in the middle of the river. Its current flowed past him, telling him stories of what happened further upstream, of water quality, and of the fish that liked to dart around his shoulders.

  He swam to the shore and pulled himself onto a dock at the Verona boat landing. Casually, as though swimming in from the middle of the river was perfectly normal, he kicked off his water shoes and exposed his skin to the sun and air.

  Its iridescence began to wane, and soon his skin looked opaque and slightly tan. After a careful glance around, Ash decided he had enough privacy, and stripped out of his wet swim trunks. Once he changed into a dry pair of khaki shorts and a navy polo shirt he kept in his duffel bag, he slipped into a pair of driving moccasins, slicked his black hair back, and headed up the hill in to a small office, where the dock master kept records.

  It was time to find out all he could about the island in the middle of the river.

  COOPER TURNED IN place as he absorbed the features of their newly rebuilt basement, taking in the cleanly painted fieldstone foundation, the antique brick which divided their basement from the neighboring house to the east, and the cool, concrete floor.

  Now that the node was shielded, and was settling down, Cooper wanted to read this place the way he had read the rock strata and subterranean features back at Mary Street. Even better, Ash was out of the house and on an errand. This gave Cooper enough time to center himself, and to sink his mind into the earth that surrounded him.

  The concrete sucked the heat from his bare feet, and the basement chill soothed him the way it had at the old place. On an impulse, he shucked his clothes off, letting the fabric pile on the floor in a heap of denim, linen, and a sliver of red spandex.

  Cool air brushed against his bare skin. He savored the sensation, feeling both refreshed and somewhat foolish. After Cooper paced the basement floor from one end to the other several times,
he chose a spot by the outside wall, and lay down.

  He had heard that some people went through the rigamarole of drawing circles with chalk, and sprinkling salt water that had been infused with the light of the full moon, and they smudged with dried herbs and lit incense and candles.

  Which was fine.

  He didn’t see any reason for doing such things, however, because the Earth spoke to him whether he wanted it to or not. Images of rocks, either neatly stratified, or convoluted by the eons of geological processes, threatened to inundate his mind if he let them. He felt the cracked foundation in the wall the way he’d feel a half-healed hangnail, and the tunnels that riddled the ground underfoot in their end of the neighborhood were like structures of his own body.

  In the past, when Cooper had not known what these images were all about, he had been afraid to fully explore the labyrinth of his own mind. He had never allowed the Earth to possess him to this extent, and he had never felt the grit and weight of it all as acutely as he did now, sprawled naked on a cold basement floor.

  If Ash came in right now, he would surely think Cooper crazy.

  A small bubble of laughter, both amused and relieved, fought its way out of Cooper’s throat. Ash was off running ordinary errands, dealing with ordinary store clerks, probably fighting traffic right now. Meanwhile, Cooper was engaged in a form of arcane reconnaissance.

  The sound of his chuckle bounced off his walls, and the earthy scent of limestone overtook the citrusy notes of Cooper’s body wash. He reveled in it, and in the roughness of stone against his skin. Its cool touch guided him, taking him deep underground. Cooper didn’t need the tunnels to explore their subterranean world. He just needed to relax his mind and allow the information to happen. Let it come, let it come.