by H. L. Burke
She took Ellis’s hand as Renard shut the cage behind them and flipped the lever. The gears creaked, and the elevator began its descent.
Sweat beaded under Nyssa’s collar. She unbuttoned her peacoat.
“So many people.” This wasn’t quite the tropical refuge she’d dreamed of.
“The other side of the island isn’t so built-up,” Renard said. “That side’s mostly plantations, fishing villages, and a few private beach houses. That’s the true San Azula. This is just the playground for the foreigners.”
Nyssa relaxed.
Amara leaned against Renard. “I can’t wait to meet your family.”
“They’ll adore you even as I do.” He smiled.
Sure enough, inside the hangar rested not only their missing bags but the horseless carriage as well. After helping Ellis claim their belongings, Nyssa turned back to bid Amara and Renard a farewell. The young couple leaned against the wall in the throes of a passionate kiss.
Nyssa clicked her tongue. “They do know people are watching, don’t they?”
“I don’t think they care.” Ellis slipped his hand into hers. “Come on. They’ll know where to find us, and I don’t feel like a lengthy good-bye right now.”
Nyssa’s eyes lingered on the couple before she followed Ellis back to the horseless carriage. I don’t think I could ever be that uninhibited. Ellis and I have kissed less than a handful of times. Does that mean I don’t care for him as much as Amara cares for Renard?
The thought that she was possibly deficient in someway, that she couldn’t give Ellis the passion a man deserved, gnawed at her as they drove to The Palms hotel and checked in. Two rooms, adjoining, but decidedly separate.
If I really cared about him, would that be a relief? Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
“Do you want to settle in and take a nap? Get something to eat?” Ellis asked.
She gazed out the doors. The beach ran right up to the hotel. A small open-air restaurant took up the front patio, then, beyond that, sand and breakers. The sun dipped into the water, streaking the sky in mauve and gold. Most of the bathers had abandoned the beach, though a few still huddled around bonfires.
“I’m not hungry or tired yet,” she said. “I’d like to take a stroll by the water, I think. It’s so beautiful, and I’ve never walked on sand before …” She hesitated. “Can your chair move in sand?”
“Skis, remember?” He tapped the panel of switches. “I built this thing for every possible scenario.”
She smiled. He’s smart, brilliant even, and kind and handsome … what does he want with a cold fish like me?
They reached the edge of the water, and Nyssa inhaled the fresh, salty air. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Yes.” His fingers slipped around hers. “It is. Mind if we sit for a bit? I’d like to feel the sand in my toes.”
She nodded. He maneuvered out of his chair then pushed the button so it folded up into its briefcase form. She sat, cross-legged, beside him. The water rolled in and out like the breaths of a great beast.
Ellis pulled off his shoes, then his socks, and rubbed his legs. “I don’t have as much sensation in them as I used to, but sometimes it’s nice to remind myself that they’re still there. I guess that sounds odd.”
“Not odd.” She shook her head. “It’s hard to put myself in your shoes, sometimes, to understand, but that doesn’t mean it’s strange.”
“Yeah, I guess we only know what it is like to be ourselves, not anyone else.” He picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “You know I can swim.”
“I can’t, so you’re one up on me there.”
“After my accident I had to retrain myself. I spent every day for a full summer in the garden pond, teaching myself to tread water with just my arms.” His eyes took on a faraway look, enhanced by the light of the setting sun. “It became an obsession. Things weren’t going well between me and my father. He couldn’t accept what had happened to me, that I would never walk again, and he couldn’t understand how I could move on so easily.” He sighed.
She stroked the back of his hand. He talked about his father so rarely. Perhaps the wound was still too fresh.
“It wasn’t that it was easy,” he continued. “I just knew I didn’t have any choice in whether or not my legs worked, and I refused to get pulled down by it, you know? At the same time, I think that’s why swimming became so important to me. I had to prove, to myself at least, that I was as capable without my legs as I had been with them, that I was strong enough.”
“For what it’s worth, I’ve always seen you as strong.” She leaned closer to him.
“Oh, I know.” His hand trailed down her cheek.
Something stirred within her, something that excited yet frightened her at the same time. She forced herself not to pull away.
Ellis’s mouth quirked to one side. “Are you all right? You look sad.”
“I’m not sad, exactly. It’s just … Amara and Renard, they were something else, weren’t they?”
“Oh yes.” Ellis chuckled.
“I mean, the whole eloping idiocy was … idiotic, but how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other? It was a little much, wasn’t it?”
“A little. Love, I guess?”
“I guess.” She dropped her eyes.
“There it is again. Sad. Come on, Nyss. Don’t keep things from me. What’s really bothering you?” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Amara was surprised that I care for you. She said I was so reserved she wouldn’t have guessed.” She worked her fingers into the warm sand. “Do you think the same? That I don’t care because we aren’t all over each other the way Renard and Amara are?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Not at all. For one thing, Amara and Renard are about to be married, and we’ve known each other, what? Four weeks?”
“You’re right. I kind of let her get to me, though. It made me feel passionless and boring, seeing how unbridled she was.”
“That’s just who she is. Honestly, if you were like Amara, I’d wear my eyes out, rolling them around. It was like she traded all her common sense for ardor.”
Nyssa snorted. “Yeah. Being in love doesn’t have to make you an idiot. I mean, I still have my brains intact.”
“Oh, are you in love?”
Her face warmed. “I … I’m … we …” Words tangled up on her tongue.
Ellis leaned closer. “I hope you are, because I don’t want to be in this state all by myself.” His hand moved to the back of her neck, leading her closer. Their lips met, and for once, Nyssa didn’t worry about the kiss going too far. She wrapped her arms around him and concentrated on the strength of his arms, the warmth of his skin, and the taste of his breath. Longing like she’d never experienced swelled within her.
He lowered her into the sand, one hand twisted in her hair, the other squeezing her spine. His lips traced over her cheek, onto her neck. Her back arched off the ground, and she gave out a staggered breath.
Ellis withdrew and gazed into her eyes. “That’s probably enough for now, huh?”
“A few more minutes?” She gave him what she hoped was a come-hither look.
He grinned. “If you insist.”
The sun-soaked sand warmed her back as Ellis’s kisses covered her skin. Nyssa closed her eyes and allowed herself to savor his touch.
“Ellis Dalhart, I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Nyssa Glass. More than you could possibly imagine.”
The End
Nyssa Glass
and
The Cutpurse Kid
Copyright © 2016 H. L. Burke
To Tolkien … the Master World Weaver …
Though I totally blame you for my obsession with tall guys. Hey, there’s worse things to be obsessed with, right?
H. L.
Chapter One
Nyssa tapped her brush on the unopened can of paint and stared at the blank signboard. It had sat in the shop for almost a we
ek, and while they’d managed to pull in a few customers, the store would never take off without proper signage.
A zapping sound and a flash of light filled the workshop. Nyssa’s shoulders hunched towards her ears. She wrinkled her nose at the whiff of ozone. “Ellis, electricity is not a toy.”
In his motorized wheelchair at the workbench, Ellis grinned. “It is if you use it right.” He picked up a pair of wire cutters.
Nyssa shook her head and focused on the sign … or what would be a sign if they could agree on the wording.
“How about Cormac’s Electrical Repairs?”
“That ties us to our current aliases.” The gentle hum of the generator powering his soldering iron rose from the corner.
“Put your goggles on,” she ordered. “You need to protect your eyes.”
“Yes, Mom.” He snickered.
Nyssa tightened her hair ribbon to keep her wiry brown hair from her eyes. He had a point. Their current documents all read “Hart and Nessa Cormac”—partially because Nyssa Glass was wanted for murder, and partially because Ellis Dalhart didn’t want to be associated with his late father. Their aliases wouldn’t necessarily last forever, though. She’d like to prove her innocence someday and maybe reclaim her name. Also, their aliases were married. Their real selves were just sort of courting.
More than enough commitment for an almost seventeen-year-old … though it might be nice to trade Glass for Dalhart someday. She stole a glance at Ellis. His long, agile fingers tinkered with some wiring, a slight smile quirking beneath his thoughtful brown eyes. Yeah, maybe at seventeen and a half.
She cleared her throat. “So, if not Cormac, what then?”
“Let’s have some fun with it. How about Wired and Fired?” Sparks sizzled from his soldering iron.
“It’ll be Wired and Fried the way you’re going. Seriously, didn’t your dad teach you basic safety precautions? Put on your gloves.”
“Oh, I like Wired and Fried.”
“I’m not putting that on the sign.” She came to stand over his workbench. He had a series of electrodes laid out, several attached to a voltaic pile battery. Though most things in San Azula—as in most industrialized nations—ran on reliable steam, electricity was Ellis’s new obsession, especially in portable forms such as batteries.
He pushed his safety goggles up into his dark wavy hair, his eyes twinkling. “We could just call it ‘Sparky’s’.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Which of us is ‘Sparky’ in that scenario?”
“How about Sparks and Shocks?”
“I’m not using an oath, no matter how mild, on my signage.”
“Too shocking?” He winked.
She rolled her eyes.
“That’s an idea. The Shock Shop.”
With a groan she turned back to the board.
“Watt’s Up? Loose Sparks? Charge It?”
He thinks he’s so funny. Nyssa sniffed but couldn’t help a smile. “I’m going to write ‘Electrical Repairs’ for now. We can always put up something flashier later.”
“Flashier? Nyss, did you just make a pun?” He laughed. “I’m so proud.”
She chuckled. “You’re rubbing off on me … you and your malfunctioning humor program.”
Nyssa finished her lettering in bold, broad strokes, then took a hammer and nails and went outside to hang her masterwork. A few swift blows later, she stepped back to admire the sign.
Sweat beaded on her forehead in spite of the overcast sky. It would probably rain later that afternoon. According to Renard—the wealthy nobleman who’d accompanied them on the zeppelin from New Taured—their arrival two months before had been right at the beginning of monsoon season. The weather had been far from a tropical paradise since then.
Though any place without an extradition treaty is paradise enough for me.
It was beautiful in San Azula. They’d set up their shop far enough from the tourist traps to enjoy the local charm. Sun gleamed off the white plaster buildings with their red tile roofs. Palm trees swayed along the edge of the streets, and colorful canopies fluttered in front of the businesses. Their store, however, was a newer construction, a three story shop and living quarters combination. Made of brown brick with reinforced plate windows and metal shutters, it squeezed between two old San Azulan style buildings. It seemed an appropriate home for two expats from the Continent.
A few pedestrians—some in formal continental garb, a few in the lighter-weight, more brightly colored fabrics of San Azulans—scurried from one business to another. None gave the shop’s new signage a second glance.
“Maybe Ellis is right,” she mumbled to herself. “Maybe itis a little plain.”
Something prickled against the back of her neck. Someone’s watching.
She focused on the glass windows of the shop. The reflection of the street behind her played out like cinema. A steam car jolted down the street and a woman with a parasol walked beside a clockwork baby carriage. No one’s eyes appeared to be on her.
I’m getting paranoid. She shook her head and entered the shop.
Zap!
Nyssa ducked as a streak of light burst above her.
“Blast, Nyss! Sorry!” Ellis grasped a ceramic tube with wires plugged into the voltaic pile.
She blinked away the spots dancing before her eyes.
“What is that thing?” she asked.
“It’s supposed to be a fly zapper.” He flushed. “I saw a moth over the door and … um … got excited to test it.”
Nyssa glanced up. A scorch mark wider than her hand blemished the white ceiling. The smudge in the middle might’ve once been an insect.
“A fly zapper?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, well, it shoots a low voltage arc.” He put the tube down. “It may be a bit overpowered for its intended purpose.”
“A bit?”
“I’ll adjust it.” He picked up a screwdriver.
She clicked her tongue and began polishing their display case. It only contained a few items, older model radios and videophones Nyssa had picked up from a junk dealer for a few pennies. She’d repaired and refurbished each one ‘til they gleamed. Yes, newer, fancier models were available, but these older machines still had life in them. They’d make her a reasonable profit. Those sales, combined with any repair jobs they took in, and their business would soon be thriving.
The bell over the shop door rang. Nyssa plastered on her best “customer appreciation” smile. She turned and froze.
A short, middle-aged man with watery gray eyes and bristle-brush chin whiskers winked at her. He wore a shabby brown bowler hat, and from his pocket hung a gold watch chain, more posh than the rest of his clothes combined.
Nyssa knew that chain.
She’d slipped it out of a fat man’s pocket when she was ten. She remembered the gray-eyed man snatching it from her trembling fingers, the slap of his hand against her cheek because she’d almost let herself be seen ... crying herself to sleep in the cold, dirty corner of a dark room, praying to be anywhere else.
“Hi, Nyssy, my girl.” The man stepped closer. “You miss me?”
“Uncle Al.” Her voice squeaked like a trapped mouse. “Why aren’t you dead?”
Chapter Two
Uncle Al smirked, flashing yellowed teeth, at least two missing. “Well, that’s a fine way to greet your old uncle after I’ve tramped all the way from New Taured to see you. Those steamer tickets weren’t cheap, I’ll have you know.”
“I thought ships let rats ride for free.” Nyssa steeled her nerves. I’m not a scared little girl any more. He can’t bully me.
His face darkened. “Watch your tongue, girl.”
“Nyss, you all right?” Ellis wheeled to her side. Nyssa placed her hand on his shoulder, drawing strength from his presence.
“I’m fine.” She stared at Uncle Al. “Your ‘co-workers’ told me you died in a prison brawl, information they used to compel me to work off your considerable debts.”
Al laughed. �
��That’s just like them, spreading wild tales. Nah, I got released last month. I’m a free man, debt to society paid.” He paced over and stared at the display cases. “Nice setup, here. It’s yours?”
“Mine and … Mr. Cormac’s.” Even if Al knew who she was, he didn’t need to know Ellis was a Dalhart. No, a hint that Ellis came from money would be blood in the water to good old Uncle Al.
“Speaking of rumors, lot of mixed ones about you.” His eyes glinted. “They say after I was nabbed, you went straight for a while. Then up and murdered your employer, stole his life savings, and fled the country. You must’ve come away with a pretty score to be able to afford all this.”
Nyssa exhaled. She was innocent, but it was hard to prove that.
“Nyssa’s innocent. The funds for setting up here were my contribution, not ill-gotten.” Ellis rolled back to his desk and pushed a button. The shop door swung open. “I’m sorry you came this way only to have to leave immediately.”
“So you caught yourself a rich pigeon?” Al’s eyes burned into Nyssa. “You plan to murder him in his sleep too?”
Nyssa’s jaw clenched until it hurt. “Leave. Now.”
“They say you fled New Taured in style—on a zeppelin—and when the crew got wise to you, you blew the whole ship to evade capture. Don’t deny that. The explosion was in all the papers.”
Ellis snorted. “You did sort of—”
Nyssa glared at him, and he subsided.
“And in spite of that, you’re living safely in a tropical resort, and the San Azulan government refuses to extradite you. Whose bed did you warm for that protection?”
Nyssa’s cheeks burned.
“You need to leave.” Ellis’s voice was dangerously low.
“I will when I’ve got what’s mine.” Al stepped closer to Nyssa. He grabbed her upper arms, his hands rough through the cloth of her gray blouse. Memories of kicks and blows, of raging voices, swearing at and deriding her … it welled up like a fog in her mind, and she shrank before him.
“I took you in when your parents died. I gave you a trade, my trade, and here you are, sittin’ pretty when I’ve got naught but lint in my pockets.” He leaned closer. His rank breath singed her skin.
