Copper Girl

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  I’ve always been glad that my family’s line is of metal. It means I’m strong, both physically and mentally, and courageous. I’m loyal, like those of earth, but not quite so stubborn. And… and that’s all I really know, because we haven’t been allowed to speak of magic since the wars ended, and magic was outlawed.

  I was young when the wars began, but from what I remembered, the news reports all said that the wars had started when those who’d been born without magic became jealous of Elementals’ innate abilities. So, the learned magicians got together with the Mundane humans and started up their own

  civil rights movement, claiming that, due to their own magic, they should be considered equal to the Elementals. The problem was, they weren’t equal. They never, ever would be, being that it took months, or years, for a Mundane to learn even simple spells like the casting of a fey stone. When the Elementals brought up this small but important fact, all hell had broken loose. Literally.

  Still, there had been no war or outright rebellion at that point. The learned magicians may have been collectively outraged, but they grudgingly accepted their place, and the Mundane humans—those who did not study magic—were content with things as they were. Then, a Fire Elemental conceived of a way to sell fey stones to the masses; normally, a fey stone will only burn in the presence of its caster, but this enterprising individual spent decades studying the spell and determined which materials would cause the light to burn for years. It was a brilliant invention, one that could save the average family hundreds, or maybe thousands, in electricity. Just imagine, a never-ending light bulb.

  The Mundane CEO of the power company had not been pleased by this development.

  The wars had lasted almost three years, but we hadn’t been discouraged. We—the Elementals—knew that we were stronger, and we’d never had any doubt that we’d prevail. Then, the unthinkable happened. We lost.

  To this day, no one knows how. Oh, there’s lots of speculation, but the real reasons remain somewhat elusive. The schoolbooks say that many of the war mages realized the error of their ways and immolated themselves. Yes, they used the word “immolate”, and that, right there, is a clue that it’s all propaganda. Other sources claim that Elementals don’t mesh well with those of opposing natures, and infighting was what did us in. That supposed infighting was also the impetus for creating the Peacekeepers, a squad of government goons specially outfitted to make Elemental lives miserable.

  Well, no matter which version they hand out in their propaganda, the end result was the same - the Council of Elementals disappeared. Without their leadership, we lost.

  My dad was on that council.

  Once the Mundanes claimed victory, we assumed that life would pretty much return to normal, but we were so, so wrong. Instead of just declaring themselves equal to the Elementals, the learned magicians were also outlawed, along with all other `unlicensed magic’. In essence, without a special dispensation from the government (which, I might add, tosses spells around like cheap confetti), you could be thrown in prison for something as innocuous as conjuring up a bit of heat to warm your coffee.

  We never found out what happened to Dad.

  I’d spent most of my life trying to pass for ordinary. I tried to act like a Mundane human, someone who didn’t understand magic. I never talked about it, never thought about it, and never, ever practiced it. So, how did Micah know?

  “Of metal?” I asked, tentatively.

  “I was certain when I felt your mark.” Huh. No one mentioned marks, either. I usually kept mine covered; those who saw it either thought it was a tramp stamp or refused to let on that they recognized the signs of magic. “Copper, yes?”

  “Copper,” I affirmed, my voice now hardly a whisper. “You could tell just by feeling it?”

  “By your hair,” he replied. I protested that I dyed my hair, but he looked pointedly at my hips. Oh, right. “May I see it? Your mark, I mean.”

  I didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t, since he’d pretty much seen the rest of me. I turned around and lifted my nightie, exposing the mark across my lower back that forever named me as a member of the Raven clan, one of the most powerful bloodlines in history. Well, before magic was outlawed; now we were just… regular. And watched. My mark was copper-colored, and took the shape of a raven with its wings outstretched, the tips of the feathers reaching my sides. My sister, Sadie, bore a nearly identical mark. I didn’t remember what Max’s mark had looked like.

  Micah traced the edges of the raven, his light touch sending shivers through my body. I remembered how he’d massaged my back during our earlier encounter, how I’d instantly become a molten heap of need. “Is everyone’s mark so sensitive?” I asked.

  “Some, but not all,” he replied, his fingers now stroking my spine, near the raven’s maw. “Fire marks may burn you if you touch them, and Elementals of stone feel hardly anything at all.”

  “Do you have a mark?” I asked, peeking over my shoulder. Again, Micah smiled at me.

  “I do.” He pulled off his leather shirt, revealing wiry muscle sheathed in warm, caramel skin. Before I could truly appreciate the most attractive male chest I’d ever encountered, he turned his back and I saw his mark. It was shining, metallic silver, just as mine was copper. It swept across his back like filigree wings emanating from his spine, arching over his shoulder blades in a graceful fall that reached below his waist.

  “You… you’re silver,” I murmured, my eyes flitting from his mark to his hair. “Just like I’m copper, you’re silver.” Micah murmured some sort of an agreement, but I barely heard him. Hesitantly, I touched his back, his mark glinting in the near-dark. His flesh was warm and inviting, almost hot where it was incised with silver. “Oh, Micah. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Many thanks, my Sara.” His muscles tensed, and I wondered if touching his mark was having the same effect on him as when he’d touched mine. I dropped my hands, and he turned to face me. “Forgive me, if I’ve misinterpreted your actions.”

  “I didn’t know what I was doing, calling you,” I admitted. “But I am glad that you came back to me.” At that, he kissed me—hard—and pushed me onto my back. I didn’t resist. Far from it, I welcomed him.

  “Wait,” I breathed. “Will I ever see you while we’re awake?”

  “You wish to?”

  I nodded. “More than anything.”

  “Hold me tightly, my Sara.” I did, and the air thickened and rippled around us. Once again, I heard street noises and the radio blaring one floor up, and I could smell the alley. I’d been so thoroughly enchanted by Micah, I hadn’t noticed the lack of my usual annoyances. But now that I was awake, they had returned, and there was a half-naked man in my bed.

  I screamed, my wakeful self having no idea who Micah was or why he was here. Ever practical, Micah kissed me, effectively smothering my cries and jogging my memory at the same time. He knew he’d succeeded when I stopped screaming and kissed him back.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, still trembling. “It was so sudden!”

  “It is hard to pull yourself to wakefulness so quickly,” he murmured. “You behaved much better than I did my first time.”

  “I did?” He nodded, and wiped away tears I hadn’t noticed. “Thank you.”

  “For what, my Sara?”

  I didn’t get to answer. My screams must have woken Juliana, and she was banging on my door. “I’m fine!” I yelled. “Just a nightmare.”

  “Open up!” Now she was jiggling the handle. Luckily, I always locked my door, a habit left over from sleeping in the dorms, but she was insistent. Once she had decided on doing something, nothing could stop her.

  “She can’t find you here,” I whispered. “They’ll kill you if they find you.” Micah nodded, and in the next moment, he was gone. I don’t mean he left by way of the window, which I assumed was how he had gotten in; he was here, and then he wasn’t. I blinked, but was quickly dragged out of my amazement by Juliana’s banging and yelling. I pull
ed on my robe and threw open the door.

  “You’re gonna wake the neighbors,” I admonished her.

  “The way you screamed, I thought one of them was murdering you,” she countered.

  “Aw. My Juliana in shining armor.” She responded with an artful sneer, and we were back to normal.

  “It’s almost six, anyway. I’ll make some coffee.”

  I nodded and shut the door to dress. Not only did I not want to explain my silk nightie to Juliana, but I figured I might as well get ready now. There wouldn’t be any more sleep for me at the moment. After I picked out a pair of jeans and a shirt, I took off my robe and almost screamed again. He had taken my panties again!

  chapter 3

  A few hours later, I dropped Juliana off at REES’s front door, and, being that it was my day off, peeled out of the parking lot like a teenage moron and cruised the streets for a while, intent upon securing a second (okay, third) caffeinated beverage. Thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking—things I wasn’t even supposed to know about—coursed through my mind, and I needed time to sort things out. Time, and maybe a bottle of tequila.

  Not only had Micah known that I was of metal, he’d called me a Dreamwalker. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap. Only the most powerful Elementals were able to enter other people’s dreams, and I’d spent the bulk of my life pretending to be as unpowerful as possible. Hell, I hadn’t even known I could dreamwalk, but I’d gone and done it twice now. While this development wasn’t wholly unexpected, it was still not good. Very, very not good.

  You see, not only am I an Elemental, but my surname is Corbeau. I’m descended from the Raven clan, one of the most powerful lines of Elementals that have ever lived. Our collective hands have guided world events since before the time of the Merovingians. Of course, since the wars ended and magic has been outlawed, our influence have waned somewhat.

  Pity. I’d make an awesome Elemental princess.

  Despite the life-threatening risk of displaying my abilities, I’d always known that my power remained, coiled deep inside me, like a serpent waiting to strike, but I did my best to blend in with the Mundanes. I held down a menial office job, lived in an apartment building that wasn’t in too nice of a neighborhood, and stayed away from anything even slightly supernatural. I didn’t even own a deck of regular playing cards, for fear that someone would accuse me of performing readings, and all of my jewelry was plain, devoid of patterns as well as stones, lest I be accused of wearing spells about my person.

  My lack of training made it easy for me to act ignorant, since I pretty much was. Max, my older brother, had tried to teach my sister, Sadie, and me the basics of our familial power, but that lark had ended when the Peacekeepers had barged into our home and apprehended him. That had been almost ten years ago, and we hadn’t seen him since.

  So, you can understand why this Dreamwalker label had me a wee bit anxious. While the government espoused a clear hatred of all things magic, rumor was that they used captured Dreamwalkers as spies. When you slip into someone’s unconscious mind, all their hopes and dreams and fears lie bare before you. Everything they know, you can learn; whatever they fear, you can use against them. Secrets? Nonexistent. For an experienced Dreamwalker, subterfuge is easier than riding a bike, faster than reading a book or downloading files. It’s evil at its diabolical, simplistic best.

  Did Micah now know everything I knew?

  “Thanks.” I paid the drive-thru barista and took my latte; exotic caffeinated beverages were my one indulgence. Okay, my one indulgence along with my car—my ‘mechanical’ as Micah had called it. I wondered if he’d let me drive him around. I hated it when boys did all the driving.

  As I sipped the hot, cinnamony beverage, I thought about Micah’s silver eyes, his nearly-white hair, the mark that cascaded across his shoulders. I’d never seen anything like the rivulets of silver twirling and spiraling across his back, terrible and elegant as a raptor’s wings. Despite the ban on magic, I’d seen a lot of marks in my day, though mostly on the preserved skins of government enemies that decorated our fine museums and town halls. None of those leathery bits had been half as amazing as Micah’s warm, soft back.

  After wasting an hour’s worth of time and gas, I returned to REES’s parking lot, waved at the oh—so-friendly drone, and found my usual spot in the back lot in front of the pine trees. Micah had said that the trees marked the entrance to his lands, so I should be able to cross over with no difficulties. Right?

  As soon as the drone buzzed away, I gulped the remains of my latte, locked the car, and then stood staring at the entwined trees while my heart thudded away in my breast. It had been so long since I had entered the Otherworld that, for a moment, I wondered if I still could. And if I did, would the Peacekeepers know? Would Micah even want to see me?

  You’re being an idiot. Of course the Peacekeepers wouldn’t know. I’d managed to cut out the tracker they’d implanted in my shoulder and set it in a watch, which was now neatly stowed in my glove compartment. I’d done the same with Sadie’s tracker, though she’d placed hers in a locket. What was more, the cameras in the back lot had been off for more than a year on account of my boss being a tightwad. As long as no drones happened by during my entrance or exit, I was thoroughly incognito.

  And, if last night was any indication, Micah would thoroughly enjoy a visit from me.

  You’re being an ass. I was stalling. And sweating, and having heart palpitations. I shook my head, since an anxiety attack was not going to give me any answers. I took a deep breath and stepped beyond the trees.

  It had always struck me how ordinary the Otherworld seemed. Same trees, same birds, same sky; really, it was nearly identical to the Mundane World. In the midst of my musings about how the two worlds were so similar, a herd of miniature trolls galloped past me. They were tiny, green-skinned wonders, all knobby joints and funny grunts along with even funnier conical caps. Only through great force of will was I able to stifle my giggle. Even though I knew very little of the ways of magical beings, I knew better than to laugh at a pack of trolls.

  Not so ordinary, then. Once the trolls passed, I took in my surroundings. Much like things on the Mundane side, I was in a dense pine forest. I examined a bundle of needles and found that there were three needles in each, which meant that these trees were red pine. (White pine has five needles per bundle. Get it?) The forest floor was littered with rusty orange needles, plump mushrooms, and the occasional bright wildflower, with shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy here and there. I walked further into the wood, breathing deeply of the cool air, relishing that it was crisp and clear, surely more so than any air I’d encountered in the Mundane World. In short, the Otherworld was a lovely place.

  It was also eerily quiet, devoid of the occasional sounds from a passing car, or people walking by on the street, or any of the background noise that I’d always taken for granted. Now that the trolls were gone, I couldn’t hear anything other than the rustle of boughs. How am I going to find Micah? I suppose I could wander around, but becoming lost in the Otherworld is not a fate the sensible among us strive for. I’ve read far too many fairy tales not to worry about what lurks around the bend. I debate calling out Micah ‘s name, but that might also bring unwanted attention.

  Mind you, not that I know what I will say to Micah when I find him. Should I tell him to leave me alone, that it is far too risky for us to be found together, to stop stealing my underwear like a horny frat boy? I should say all these things, and more besides. This should be our last meeting. It will be our last meeting. Then, just as suddenly as he left my room, he stands before me.

  “My Sara.”

  “Oh,” I said, startled. “Hi.”

  Thanks to the sunny morning, I got my first good look at the elf who’d been haunting my dreams. His most striking feature was his silver hair, thick and impossibly fluffy like thistle down, and long enough to brush the tops of his shoulders. Micah’s eyes were a matching hue, with hair and eyes set off by his rich, caram
el skin. Add to that his chiseled cheekbones and knife-blade nose, and he was quite the impressive specimen.

  Despite the warm morning, he was wearing another of those leather suits; now that I knew he was an elf, I didn’t find his clothing quite so odd. Today, he was clad in a pale-blue tunic over gray leggings, along with gray knee boots. A black belt encircled his hips, replete with a wicked-looking blade. He smiled as he approached; when he was close enough, he took my hands. It is fair to say that, at Micah’s touch, my resolve melted away.

  “By coming to my lands, you have made me very happy,” Micah murmured, bending to kiss the tips of my fingers. He looked so regal, so much like a lord, that I felt grubby in comparison. While my jeans were clean, they were just jeans, and my plain black sandals and white button-down shirt were decidedly casual. If Micah minded, however, he didn’t mention it. “What good fortune has brought my Sara before me on this day?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.” I scuffed the ground with my toe. “You really shouldn’t steal my underwear.” Yeah, nothing like just leaping right into the awkwardness.

  His brow furrowed. “I thought you were leaving me tokens.”

  “Tokens?”

  “When two are promised, or if one seeks to know another, they will offer tokens,” he explained.

  “Wait. You mean to tell me that human women will give up their panties in exchange for—” My cheeks were on fire, and I looked away. “Is that what you thought I was doing?”

  “Women have done so, yes,” Micah replied. “I now know that you are too honorable to engage in such pursuits.”

  “It’s illegal,” I mumbled. I glanced up. “Have you gone to women like that before?”

  “Only as a dream, never in flesh.” Somehow, that admission comforted me. “Did you not want me last night?” As he spoke, Micah’s eyes were soft, limpid things that told me so much more than his words. Gah. Apparently, I am the sort of girl who falls for the fairy knight, hook, line, and virginity.