by Mima
New-earth stirred, rising higher still. She could feel the strange touch of air.
A dream self, a soul self, riding with a man, twining and trusting and flying with him. A man with seal eyes and royal eyes and magic eyes.
Xia. A male voice called to her.
New-earth began to understand. She was only supposed to dream here, like she had with air. She was only supposed to dance here, like she had with fire. She was supposed to escape, like she had with water. She was not earth. Not yet.
I am Xia?
The soil crumbled around her, but the roots were driven deep. A spirit danced around hers and drew her up, but it hurt and she sank back.
Xia.
The flow of a river roared around her, ripping away the roots, rinsing away the pebbles. She shrank from it. Afraid.
Xia.
A silver ribbon as fine as a hair hovered over her. Rushing, everything was rushing and chaos. She tried to sink, but the stone was becoming too hard for her, too heavy, too tight.
Xia.
Blood pumping, lungs expanding, flesh encompassing, touching, heating. Lips tangling, mouths joining, tongues dancing, sharing. She reached for that memory, to recover more of it, and the water seal-spirit was back, and the silver ribbon, and the flowing water that bubbled and buoyed her up, up, up.
She was exposed, cold, frozen with terror at the change, the expanse, the air.
Take your soul line, Xia. Take it.
She waited, because there was no need for such upheaval. Scared, she looked for earth.
Take it, storm cloud. Come back to me. Your sister, Antonia, waits. Markos would not give you up to me. We want you.
She was exhausted. Too much. She wanted to sleep.
The line tickled her. It was warm wherever it touched. It slid against her, then away. Slid against, and then away. Slid against, and then away. She began to wait for the soft heat of it instead of shrinking. Slid against, then away. She began to rise up to meet it. Rhythm reminded her of a huge, solid man, hair black and thick. He was strong, vivid and steady. Slid against, then away. Rhythm called to her, and the next time the silver ribbon slid hot and gentle against her, she grabbed before it could slide away.
Pain. Confusion. Too much. So tired.
The first time I saw you, you were sitting perfectly upright on that huge purple bicycle, a massive straw hat straining in the wind. I thought you were the most absurd thing I’d ever seen. Then your hair blew like garnet silk and your red skirt billowed against your curves. The cows stopped and stared at you.
Air, blood, so loud. She turned, looking for a way to sink back.
Witch, you have work to do. Water is waking. She must be stopped.
So tired. So dizzy from the shushing of the blood. It never stopped. Like water never stopped. Couldn’t be stopped. Could only be changed. Somewhere in her low middle, pleasure bloomed, sliding in and away, a rhythm so lovely and natural she calmed, remembering it. Then a touch came in her high middle. It curled through her, exploded in pain. But the pleasure struck harder and the pain held steady. The two twined, and she surged, desperate to get closer, and away, to have it end and to have it grow.
Come back, Xia. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving. I’ve got you.
She took a breath, filling the flesh up, claiming the blood. The rhythm soothed her, and strangely, so did the pain. She was both. She knew both were necessary. She was alive.
She said, I need…
The pain stopped. Warm and wet, the rhythm of pleasure took its place, working opposite the rhythm below. A mouth, and a hand. On her breast and in her core. She understood it now.
Anchor, she called.
Xia, he gasped, his voice low and gritty.
I need…
Tell me.
She whispered. Sleep. Still. Quiet.
Xia?
Yes. I am Xia. Too much. All too much.
The rhythm stopped. It had seduced her, but it had confused her too. Heat wrapped tight around her, so tight, and it was good. She hummed, remembering earth’s heavy grasp, not with fear, but longing.
Don’t let go, she whispered.
I will not.
Her body settled, and her blood slowed, and he was tight and heavy and warm around her. Her last thought as she drifted into the black peace of waiting was…Adam.
Chapter Nine
When Xia opened her eyes, she was staring into the haggard, desperate black depths of Adam’s. She could even see the pale oval of her own face reflected back at her. Her bones ached. His arms were wrapped around her, binding her to him, and his strong legs were rough against hers. He was nude, his skin hot.
She stared at him and breathed. Waiting, watching. He had dark hollows under his eyes and his lips were two white slashes above his clenched jaw. Xia felt a tingle in the fingertips curled against his chest. She wanted to touch his face.
Adam’s eyes searched hers, and she could feel him hold his breath. But she waited, and eventually even selkies had to breathe. He did, and she watched his brows flex in thought. Straightening her fingers and shifting her arm just a bit, she brushed the edge of his jaw. It made her happy.
“Xia?”
She let her happiness come into her face, like a flower furling open for the sun. “Yes.”
“You didn’t dream.”
“I slept.”
His hands, already firm around her, tightened. Her breath caught. The pressure was perfect.
“You never dreamed. At all. There was only…darkness.”
“Hmmm.” It wasn’t a sound of interest or discontent or worry. “I feel rested.” She brushed his jaw again. “You came for me. You…coaxed me.”
“I used as many ideas as I could think of. But first, you reached out to me. If you hadn’t become aware again, there would have been nothing for me to claim. When you were in Terra, you were—” He swallowed. Licked his lips. “Gone.”
“I was Terra. I was subsumed.”
“I’ve done this before.” His eyes narrowed, the edges crinkling. “I couldn’t even find a ghost to watch over. You vanished.”
“I was Terra. I spoke with it. I remember everything.”
Finally, his grip lessened. “You are Xia.”
She smiled at him, her face becoming used to the movement. “Touched by Terra.”
He pulled from her, rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes.
“Tell me my name.”
“Adam. My selkie lover, and my rampart.”
He surged around and she was under his weight, his shoulders looming over her in the low light of the room. “You came back.”
She put her hands on his back. “You anchored me.”
His hands gripped her head fiercely and he kissed her. It was wild and deep and needy, so she gave him all she could, lifting into his mouth, using her tongue and breath and teeth to return her presence. He broke off, his forehead against hers. “You came back.”
“I did.” She laughed softly.
So did he, his bouncing chest interesting against hers. Then his head lifted, neck arching back, and he gave a barking roar. Folding into a sitting position, he hauled her into his arms and hugged her, rocking her, covering the side of her face and neck with hard kisses.
“Xia, Xia.”
She laughed again. Then her stomach growled with a ferocious gurgle. It made her giggle all over.
He stood and pulled on his jeans, then picked her up and carried her to the kitchen, putting her on the counter. Taking out the frying pan and the eggs, he poured her a bowl of cereal.
“Eat,” he commanded.
Soon, bacon was sizzling and fluffy eggs steamed. The toast popped and the electric kettle’s light blinked out. She sat on the counter, swinging her legs, totally nude. Her belly rolled a bit, and her thighs oozed wide, and her hips spread even farther, but she didn’t care. She was Xia. Without concern she touched the mouth-sized bruises across her breasts. She took up her tea and drank it bitter, without honey, and dunked h
er toast in the sweet milk of her cereal. Adam looked at the honey bottle sitting on the counter but said nothing. Humming, she crunched through the bacon like a squirrel on a mission. Adam was lucky to get three pieces for himself. She wrinkled her nose at her eggs and reached for the salt.
“I’ll make more bacon next time.”
“Sounds good.”
When they were done, he said, “Leave the dishes.”
She drained her orange juice and hopped down. “Shower, then report. Come with me.”
Adam leaned in the open doorway, arms folded. She kept the shower curtain open. The water felt so good. She liked it hot and pounding hard. When she’d rinsed, she stood dripping in the tub. It was impossible to keep from grinning at him. Pride, relief and joy pumped in a heady cocktail through her. His jeans were zipped but unbuttoned. She licked her lips.
“You weren’t afraid, in the shower.”
“Nope! Felt great.” Reaching for her towel, she understood his comment. “I used to be though.” She could remember, as if from a distance. Just like the honey in her tea had changed to the need for meat, she was altered.
“Aye.”
She scrubbed at her hair. “I still fear Aqua, but not so…personally. I understand her power now.”
Adam stood up right, shoulders squaring. “Terra gave the secret to stopping her?”
“It did.”
His fists clenched. “Terra will take a long time to awaken. I fear too long, with Aqua’s head start.”
“You’re right. But Terra is not what will stop Aqua at this point.”
“No?”
“No. Now, we need Ignis and Aer.”
“That bit you took from the dreamtime, the night you were attacked and I was summoned to join you. In that memory you sent to Markos, they feared fire.”
“They did. Rightfully so.”
“Water conquers fire easily. She has no fear of it.”
“She’s not afraid of herself.”
Adam frowned, moving out of her way as Xia went into the bedroom. She chose a long, soft lavender dress.
“We were talking about fire.”
“I know. I should meet with the Chamber. I will explain.”
They both knew there was no sense in delivering her memory to Markos as she had before. Being subsumed was not something that could ever be transferred so easily. You had to live it to comprehend it.
“The Chamber.” Adam’s voice was as blank as his face, utterly without inflection.
She frowned at him. “Yes, the Chamber. This is important. Too important and too hard to explain. I won’t have the kind of amazing idea I learned get passed through all the couriers and minions until it reaches them.”
“You’ve never had an audience with the Chamber. Neither has Markos.”
“So?”
He tipped his head. “You are bolder. More settled in yourself.” His lip curled in a little lift of a grin that made her heart curl and grin too. “I like it. Very sexy.”
Adam’s steadiness came from his wild nature that didn’t deal with typical neurotic emotional clutter. Now earth’s still dance settled deep in Xia. She knew what it meant to simply…be. “At the still point, there the dance is.” What a beautiful truth.
Adam walked up to her. He took the comb from her fingers, gathered the thick tail off her shoulder and began to work the ends smooth. “That’s lovely.”
She sighed as his deep accent drifted into her tummy. Tha’s loovely. “It’s T.S. Eliot, an English poet.”
“He was American, actually. I met him.”
Xia stared at him. “Wow. I would have loved to have met him. Was he as intense as his poetry?”
“I’ve never read it. He was very withdrawn.” He kept working higher into her hair.
“Well! Tell me how you met him.”
Adam sighed. “It was during the war. The second one.”
“Ah.” Magicals had long lives. The shifters even longer. “I met Winston Churchill during that war.”
Adam threw the comb onto the bed and drew her into a tight hug. “You are amazing. I’m still shaking from getting you back, and you’re reminiscing about minor memories. You are complete, no damage whatsoever.”
She hugged him back. “I’m not the same, Adam. But yes, I am complete.”
Framing her face, his hands heating her through her damp hair, he stared at her. She stared back, steady, watching the shifting depths of his eyes, unafraid.
“You are different. Stronger. I am so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you. I couldn’t have done it without you. There was pain, but the return was perfect.”
He stilled, his eyes flattening as he considered her.
“What is it?”
“You don’t know.”
“I guess not.”
“Xia, it is not the same day. You didn’t come back out of the ghosting on time. But I stayed, and I held to your soul line. I waited, and finally I sensed you yesterday afternoon, the day after you left.”
“I was Terra through the night? I Returned even after passing through the first day’s gloaming and yesterday’s dawn dreamtime? And I’m still here?” She stared at Adam, her eyes huge, lips parting. Then the absurdity of being scared now hit her. She grinned. “I guess I am!”
With a growl of impatience he wrapped her up tight, so crushingly tight, and she sighed, going lax, loving the constriction. He was comfort. Her head fit under his chin, and she could hear his heartbeat. “Thank you, Adam, for believing in me.”
“You swam the gloaming on your own for a month. How could I not?”
There was a soft buzzing sound, like a wasp against glass. She lifted her head. “The phone?”
“I never left you. I did not trust your natural sleep last night. And you asked me not to let go, so I took you literally, not knowing if you still needed it. It’s rung every half an hour since sunset two days ago.”
Anguish at what Markos and Antonia must be thinking broke over Xia. She tore from Adam’s arms and rushed to the phone. It had stopped. Taking the time to read only the last text message from Markos—I will kill you—she dialed.
He answered before the first ring could finish. His voice roared, hoarse with agony. “You whore to Aqua, you said you could do it. I believed you, I told her you could. I’m going to rip you apart and piss on your ashes.”
“Markos,” Xia whispered, horrified at her selfishness in not calling as soon as she woke. “It’s Xia.”
Silence. And then she heard, distantly for he’d thankfully moved the phone, the deep keening bellow of a bull. Silence. He was still panting a bit when he came back. “Xia, my morphi, I welcome you back to my team.” A formal, cautious greeting, reminding her of her relationship in case she didn’t remember.
“I’m all right, Markos. Everything seems to be…right. I’m me.” She remembered how Adam had known it would be. “I’m Xia-touched-by-Terra.”
Xia-touched-by-Ignis had been an emotional storm. Having a fire elemental as a lover hadn’t helped. They’d burned each other time and again before they learned distance was essential to their love. Xia-touched-by-Aqua had been terrified, beaten, fighting to regain every scrap of self-esteem. Xia-touched-by-Terra was clear-headed, her thoughts slower, but more careful.
His voice was tight with incandescent rage. “You. Didn’t. Call. The Chamber sent me a condolence.”
“I’m so, so sorry. I only woke up this morning, and I didn’t understand I’d lost two nights. I thought I’d just taken a nap on the same day I went in, Markos, and that I had an hour to eat and recover before you’d expect news. Adam should have called after he pulled me out yesterday, but my sleep was unusual and he was afraid to leave me.”
“I’m going to rip his arms off.” The rage crackled.
“Markos, I’m sorry, truly.” She bit her lip. He needed to be distracted, or his rage would simply feed on itself, burning warm and well for days. “I need to go, I have to call Tony.”
“You called
me first.”
She smiled. Oh, the ego. “Yeah. You’re the boss.”
Silence.
She shook her head. He was too wounded to tease. “I love you. I’m sorry I frightened you. It was bad, but it was worth it. I have important information, Markos. What I learned will stop Aqua and reshape how we work the Four. I need to see the Chamber.”
“You do?”
“I do. I’m not going to pass this mess in my head along a bureaucratic chain for a day. When they hear what I have to say, they’re just going to summon me anyway.”
“They are?”
“Yes, they are. Terra has exploded my beliefs, everything we’ve been taught. There’s a new paradigm coming, Markos, and it’s going to rock the world.”
Silence. “Check your email in an hour. Delete my old textings. They were for Adam. The Chamber secretary will send you flight tickets.”
“All right.” She took a breath. “I’m back, Markos. I did it.”
Silence. “Say it again.”
She smiled. “It’s me, Xia.”
“I’ll try to arrange to be with you at the Chamber.”
“I’d like that.”
Silence. “I suppose your rampart will go too.”
“I’d like that.”
“Lady bless you, Xia.” His voice was still tight, but softer. “It is so good to hear you.”
“And you.”
“Goodbye.” Breath. “I might have to call you again later.”
To check on her, to reassure himself. She understood. “Do that.”
“Yashou.”
She loved it when he spoke Greek to her. “Bye.”
Ending the call, Xia took a deep breath. “That was bad.”
“He needs to think more of you and less of himself.” Adam propped himself up against the living room’s window, staring out at his Rover.
“He was terrified and hurt. It was rude of you not to call or at least to remind me first thing of the lost time. The Chamber even believed I was lost.”
Adam grunted. “You are my priority.”
“What did his letter say?”
“You said you knew.”
“I think I was wrong.”
