by Autumn Dawn
So far his provision had involved bumming a room off a buddy, though she gave him the benefit of the doubt because he was sick. Speaking of which, how could he have any assets when he’d been incarcerated for so long? The reality was, he was a sick ex-con. He needed her more than she needed him right now.
Since he seemed to be rapidly wearing down, she said, “We’ll talk about that later. I’m going to explore. Will you be alright?”
He snorted. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, too.”
She shrugged off her concern and left him to his nap. As he said, he was a big boy.
The Garden of the Gods was like a small town, colorful with shops and residences, heavy on the arts. She explored bookstores with books printed in languages she couldn’t decipher, as well as the odd text in English. Sculpture and paintings abounded, and she got the feeling this was a tourist town. Surely the locals couldn’t support so many weavers and painters?
She wandered into a café, her stomach growling, curious about the local cuisine. A harried woman who appeared slightly older than Cara asked, “Welcome to Hayia’s. Can I help you?”
Cara looked up from the glass case of temptingly displayed foodstuff and improvised. “I’m looking for work.”
The woman, who appeared to be made of red jasper with brown hair pulled into a topknot, gave her a quick once over. “I’ll offer you lunch, dinner and twenty pebbles if you do a good job today. My assistant didn’t show up.”
Cara thought ruefully that she’d given her own boss short notice today. She had no idea how much twenty coins could buy, but she had nothing better to do. “Deal. My name’s Cara. Show me what to do.”
The shop was hopping, and Cara learned a great deal about what the local elementals looked like, acted and ate, and quickly picked up how much twenty pebbles could buy from the price of the food. Hayia handled the currency, and she seemed concerned that Cara couldn’t read the language. She seemed like a decent, hardworking lady.
Cara shrugged away the question of her schooling. “I was taught English, if you can believe it. My coloring was human, so my parents sent me to a human school as part of their human cultural studies. At least my math is useful.”
Hayia looked appalled, but was too busy to comment further.
The food prep consumed Cara, and she found she enjoyed it. Hayia stepped into the small back kitchen when she could, giving instructions and making Cara sample the wares.
“This is how this should taste,” she would say, glancing over Cara’s form, which was markedly skinnier than two days ago. “You can afford the extra calories. Doesn’t your man feed you?”
Cara blinked in surprise, wondering how Hayia knew there was a man in her life or if it was just an assumption. “You mean Tremor? Sure, he showed me how to siphon energy and we ate some snacks at his friend’s house.”
Hayia looked appalled. “What do your parents think of this man?”
“I’ve only known him two days, so they haven’t had a chance to meet. Honestly, if he didn’t need my help, I’d return home. I’m thinking of doing that soon anyway.”
Hayia looked determined to comment, but had to attend to customers.
Cara was playing the woman a bit, but the situation called for drastic measures. She needed to adapt fast, with the goal of returning to as much of a normal human life as she could. The elemental world was fascinating and she might want to explore it in her free time, but she was quite happy with the way her life had been before she freed Tremor. She had no intention of remaining tied to him.
After the evening rush, Hayia helped to clean the café, grilling Cara while they did dishes, stacked chairs and mopped the floor, exclaiming in astonishment as Cara told her about the last two days, leaving nothing out.
“And now we’re staying with his friend, Senator Straith, who I don’t like at all,” Cara said grimly. “I need to know if there are cops I can go to about the Oracle…anything that will help. I refuse to live like this.”
“You poor child,” Hayia sympathized. “I don’t blame you for distrusting the Senator, either. He has a terrible reputation as a rake, and married women aren’t safe, either. I have to wonder that your husband would allow you under his roof.”
Cara stilled. “Tremor isn’t my husband.”
Hayia frowned. “You’re wearing wedding jewelry, my dear. I know you didn’t agree to it, but by law, you are definitely married.”
Cara fidgeted. “That’s not how it works among humans. Men have to ask the girl there, and I definitely didn’t agree.” Of course, Tremor hadn’t seemed excited about it either. No doubt he was as eager as she was to find a way out of their predicament.
She wondered about it all the way to Straith’s house. Tremor was nice to her, but the truth was he was an ex-con who leveled cities when he got upset. She’d be a fool to hook up with a man like that. She nodded to Straith’s doorman and strode up the tiled stairs, telling herself to relax. It wasn’t like Tremor was in any shape to restrain her if she chose to leave.
Not that she expected him to try. She’d only known him a day, but he’d behaved like a gentleman, more concerned with her safety than seduction. He was still weak from starvation, and hanky-panky was probably the last thing on his mind. If she were him, she’d be worried about establishing a permanent home and getting a job.
She was deep in thought as she opened the door to her room…and found two women in bed with Tremor. Shock turned her to stone. What the…?
The wresting trio didn’t notice their audience. Tremor snarled as a naked woman straddled his chest, easily subduing him. She was made of some kind of red-veined, pink stone and laughed as she licked his chest. “Relax, big boy. We just want to show you a good time. Straith said you were lonely.”
Tremor cursed and tried to buck her off as the mud woman turned to ooze and slid seductively up his body to engulf his lap. Tremor froze, and though his expression was furious, his groan didn’t sound pained.
Straith arranged this? Cara felt rage crystalize her heart. Jealousy hit her like a fireball and condensed into a knot of madly swirling energy. She began to shake, and the room shook with her. At first she thought her vision was blurred with fury, until a statue fell off a pedestal and shattered. Growling, she mentally reached for the mud woman and yanked her away, tossing her across the room where she splatted on the wall like thrown muck. The action revealed Tremor’s aroused state, and fanned the flames of Cara’s jealousy to a roaring blaze. He was her husband!
The pink woman turned to Cara and bared her teeth, screeching in surprise as Tremor heaved her off, sending her sprawling on the polished stone floor.
“Cara,” he said urgently as he stumbled to her over the heaving floor. “Stop!”
Stopping was the last thing she wanted. Power swelled in her, begging to be used. She could raze this entire town if she chose, destroy it. The earth would open at her command, chomping the Garden of the Gods and Colorado Springs, too, if she wished. So much power.
Tremor clamped his hands on her shoulders. Oddly, the first thing she noticed was the stubble growing on his scalp. Looked as if he’d have hair in a few days.
He shook her and she blinked, coming out of her daze. She looked in his eyes and he seized her power, siphoning it. It began to fade and she gasped at the void in her gut as he absorbed it. She wrapped her arm around her middle to soothe her hollow stomach.
He leaned his head against hers and kissed her brow. “Thank you. Your interference was most welcome.”
She shot a killing look at the two women as they slunk toward the door, but she no longer had the power to hurl them with a thought. She could kick their teeth in the old-fashioned way, though. She jerked against his hold.
“Easy,” Tremor soothed, easily controlling her. His expression hardened as he looked at the women. “Don’t even think about leaving until you answer me. Did Straith send you?”
“He said you were lonely,” the mud woman whined, flinching when Cara glar
ed.
“He said your wife didn’t care what you did, that she left so you could party,” the pink woman confirmed sulkily. “Obviously he lied.”
“Get out,” Cara snapped. “I’m feeling like a home wrecker myself right now.” Given a chance, she’d turn this place to rubble. She watched as the women fled and acidly looked Tremor over. “You’re right: you take care of yourself so well.”
He looked away, his jaw tight. “They surprised me.”
She softened, but only a little. He’d been too weak to fight off two women and it pricked his pride. Too bad, because here was another woman he couldn’t fight. “I’m leaving. You coming?”
“Lead on, wife.” He swept a hand out, more than happy to leave room. Her energy must have invigorated him, for his step was light.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, keeping an eye out for Straith. She wanted to punch him.
“You do a good impression of one,” he said lightly. “But if it makes you feel better, I had no idea, centuries ago, that giving my wedding jewelry to the judges would inconvenience you.”
“Inconvenience?” she growled. “Yeah, every woman wants her marriage to be an inconvenience. What were you thinking?”
“Things were different then,” he said calmly. “The world was different. Who better than the Fates to find my future mate? We were all tricked.”
Straith was nowhere in sight. She paused in the foyer to look around, but Tremor took her arm and drew her out of the house, avoiding the staff milling around, exclaiming over the shattered chandelier and earthquake related damage. Cara didn’t care that she’d wreaked the place; Straith deserved it. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”
“I miscalculated. I’m sorry,” Tremor said grimly. “These things happen.”
Straith intercepted them on the doorstep. He was coming in as they were leaving, and he had his doorman/bouncer/all-purpose thug in tow. “Going out? Would you happen to know who’s behind this tremor, my friend? You know it’s illegal to release so much power without permission.”
Cara bristled. She was dying to give their “host” an earful. Only Tremor’s cautionary hand on her arm kept her silent. This was his world, and she’d give him a chance to handle it.
Tremor bared his teeth in a mockery of smile. “Would you happen to know who sent those women to my room? I believe the authorities would be interested in that, too.”
Straith tsked. “I’m afraid I can’t possibly keep track of my guests every minute. Found a couple of naughty ones, did you?”
“Goodbye, Staith. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon,” Tremor promised, guiding Cara away with a hand on her back.
“Planning to heal and beat him up?” Cara grouched. She had a hot temper, but she knew she wouldn’t want to smash Straith’s teeth once she calmed down. A cool head would make her think things through. Pity.
His smile held little humor. “The fault lies with me. I should have realized Straith wouldn’t have changed. There was a time…” he trailed off, his expression grim.
“You were like Straith?” His silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Charming. What were you, some kind of rake? Sleeping with other men’s wives, new woman every night…” The more she thought about it, the madder she got.
“I never slept with a married woman,” he said quietly. “I had standards.”
“Smashing. They couldn’t have been high if Straith thought you’d enjoy his little welcome party.” Aware she was spiraling out of control, she took a deep breath. “Forget it. I don’t even know why I’m upset; it’s not as if you’re my husband. Where are we going, anyway?”
He was silent for a long moment, and she didn’t like the intense way he looked at her, as if he were trying to see inside her head.
Finally, he looked away. “Where I should have gone in the first place. We’re going to visit my uncle.”
“Is he a playboy, too?” she asked suspiciously. She couldn’t imagine someone worse than Straith, but why else would he have hesitated to visit his family?
“Hardly. He’s very conservative. In the past, we often disagreed.”
“This doesn’t sound promising,” Cara muttered. “I’ll work on plan B.”
He was not amused. “He won’t turn away a woman in distress.”
“I’m not in distress; you are,” Cara pointed out. “I can sleep in my car if I have to, but you won’t enjoy trying to fold yourself into a seat for the night. There’s not much leg room.”
“Are you forgetting we can shape rock? We would find a place to take shelter.”
She had forgotten, actually. The reminder didn’t make her feel better. She wanted her normal life back.
The houses got nicer the farther they walked from the shopping district. He led her to an ornate glass elevator that was open on top. There were metal ladders on two sides of the elevator shaft and the walls had glass doors. Smart, she thought. If the elevator stalled, they could open the doors and climb out using the ladders. Why didn’t humans design elevators like that?
Thanks to the underground space, the elemental version of the Garden was bigger than the human version; a small city packed into the space of a five-mile square park. They exited the elevator five stories down in a posh residential district. There was an upscale grocery store, cafes and a couple of restaurants. She smelled the mouthwatering scent of coffee. Not knowing what the future would bring, she reluctantly kept her money in her pocket and followed Tremor’s determined stride. Watching his stiff movements hurt, but she didn’t say anything. He had a better idea than she of how much stamina he had.
The street reminded her of gothic brownstones. There were trees planted along the sidewalks and plenty of sculptures. Streetlights lined the sidewalks, and she watched the light goat carts and horseless carriages curiously. She wasn’t sure how they did it, but the quality of the light matched the time of day. “Amazing,” she murmured, turning in a circle. “How do they get so much light down here? I’d have expected it to seem dark and closed in, but it feels so open.”
He smiled. “Human eyes would perceive it that way, but your eyes have changed. Elemental vision is completely different.”
She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he meant. “Are you saying I can see through rock?” The idea was bewildering. She’d suspected the clear bridges and the windows were electronic, because they seemed to radiate light.
“Yes. To our eyes, certain minerals glow.” He nodded at the houses. “The houses are made of material that prevents snooping, of course.”
She followed him quietly, dumbfounded. It started to sink in, how much she’d changed. How was this going to affect her human life?
“Here we are,” Tremor rasped, clearing his throat at her searching look. He rested his hand on a wrought iron rail and gestured to the stone steps of an elegant brownstone. “My uncle’s house.”
She looked at the bronze rose on the knocker, but didn’t urge him to hurry up. He was clearly drained, subtly panting. Instead, she crossed her arms and sat on the steps. “Why don’t you join me? It was a long walk.”
He looked like he wanted to balk, but exhaustion won. He sat and looked around. “This isn’t the impression I wanted to make.”
She took in his flaky, rough skin and borrowed shorts and raised her brows at the pedestrians who watched them warily as they hurried by. “At least I look good,” she joked, nudging him companionably. “We’ve had a long day.” She considered the pants and shoes of the elementals, noting that they seemed much like she was used to. Men’s shirts varied from contemporary styles to tunics, with an emphasis on functionality, and women wore dresses or harem style pants. In this section of town, the clothes seemed of good quality.
She glanced at the house behind them. “So what’s your uncle’s name?”
“Sarsen,” he said tiredly, hauling himself to his feet. “And it’s time you met.”
A rose-colored woman with pastel yellow hair answered the door. Short, with a warm, p
rofessional air, the matronly woman politely informed them that Lord Sarsen was at home and conducted them to the parlor. After bringing a tray of refreshments, she left them to settle in.
Cara didn’t sit right away. She examined the room for clues about the owner. The walls were pale sandstone with swirls of brown with white crown molding. The furniture had polished obsidian frames, brown upholstery, and red pillows. She nodded at a row of niches with carved busts made of semi-precious stones. “Anyone you know?”
“My ancestors,” Tremor confirmed. He sat wearily in an overstuffed chair, in danger of falling asleep. Cara came closer, silently wondering if she could do anything to help.
The door opened and an older version of Tremor entered. Well groomed, in a simple yet expensive blue tunic and black trousers, his hair reached his collar and was shiny with good health. He watched as Tremor stood with difficulty. “Nephew.”
“Uncle,” Tremor returned. He took Cara’s hand and presented it to Lord Sarsen. “My wife Cara, by the Fate’s design.”
Cara frowned. “Until we get that straightened out, or annulled or whatever. Nice to meet you, sir.”
Lord Sarsen inclined his head and gestured for her to sit. “I would like hear your story,” he invited, claiming a large chair.
Cara shifted uncomfortably as the men looked at her. Was this a test? She’d expected him to grill Tremor. “I got a package in the mail yesterday. I thought the jewelry was a birthday present from my parents…” She quickly summed up the day and how she arrived at his house.
“It’s a shame your birthday was interrupted,” Sarsen sympathized. “May I ask what your plans are now?”
Cara blew out a breath and glanced at Tremor. “Now that he’s somewhere safe, I thought I’d…” She frowned as she considered her options. She could afford a hotel room, but was mindful of assassins.
“You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you darling?” Tremor purred in warning.
She sent him a defiant look. “I can sleep in my car until I figure it out; I don’t need to impose.”
