Midas Touch (The Hollows Book 1)
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Midas Touch
A Hollows Book
Penny Cavan
Contents
A Note on the Setting…
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By Penny Cavan
For Lucy, who lives to sit in my lap, particularly while I’m writing, and usually purring.
For Jeff, who put up with all my strange medical questions.
For Jenica, again, for dragging me through the publishing thing.
For Anna, forever my cheerleader and always wanting more.
For Christy and Edith, who put up with some really weird conversations from me.
And for stay-at-home orders that gave me the time to write.
A Note on the Setting…
The world of Midas Touch takes place in a future where some areas have fallen back into almost medieval technologies and living conditions, and some places are as full of technology as today’s world. That’s why you might see one character with a stylus and one with parchment. Why one character walks everywhere while another had a car and driver. It’s a dichotomy, and I hope you enjoy it!
Xoxo
Penny
Prologue
Centuries Ago
The Palace of Midas
If there was one thing everyone agreed upon, it was the wealth of King Midas. It wasn’t just in his land, but in the gems and metals that most people could never imagine. Over the years, some argued that Midas was generous with his wealth. In times of famine, he ensured that his people ate. In times of plenty he praised and rewarded great deeds. Others argued that Midas’ generosity served only to improve his reputation among his fellow monarchs and to prove that he could stand tall among the kings of the larger kingdoms. They claimed that Midas did not truly care for his people the way a true king should.
Nevertheless, Midas ruled for many years. Many didn’t love their king, but they loved his wife, who was a generous as Midas was greedy. When she died, they treasured their daughter, Zoe, in her place. The princess could have easily turned into a spoiled child, but she was more like her mother than her father. She was truly kindhearted, and all that she was given she found a way to pass on to others. She had a way about her that could make even those with the most hardened of hearts smile.
When the time came for Zoe to get married, many heard Midas claim that the man who would wed his daughter would be the one that could give him the greatest treasure. “Whether they’re a prince or not!” he would exclaim, laughing. “I’ll take no less than her weight in gold!”
Several princes of nearby kingdoms came to ask for her hand, but none came with a treasure to equal Midas’ desire. Then the wizards came, offering their magics, and still he refused. The larger kingdoms grumbled about Midas’ lust for gold and guarded their sons fiercely, not willing to lose their sons to the gold-sickness that seemed to imbue the king.
The last to approach the king was a youth of about twenty. He came up to Midas’ palace wearing a pair of trousers with frayed hems and a stained shirt. He had brilliantly red hair and eyes the same blue as the sea beyond the palace walls. He stood proudly before the king to ask for the Princess’ hand in marriage.
“You?” the king asked in disbelief. He laughed so heartily that it was several moments before he could speak again. “I’ve demanded a treasure for my daughter,” he said, wiping away a tear. “You stand before me without even shoes upon your feet. What could you possibly offer to me?”
“Happiness for your daughter,” he replied boldly. “Land and a home of her own.” His eyes flickered to Zoe. She sat with her spinning on a small golden throne, staring at the threads in front of her. She was spinning a fine golden wire into white linen, her eyes on her work, but every few seconds she would look up at the youth through her lashes. She felt an instant attraction and attachment to him. Where her father saw only his bedraggled nature, Zoe saw the strength in his form and the pride in his eyes.
Midas’s laughter boomed through the hall, and the others in the hall laughed uncomfortably. Suddenly, he stopped, leaning forward, hands on his knees to stare the youth in the face. “I’d rather have her weight in gold,” he said softly. “Get out of my hall while you still can.”
The youth raised his head as if he was going to fight with Midas, but a man came forward and herded him from the room. Everyone there knew that Midas did not give empty threats. He would have killed the boy to prove his point. He looked back once at the door, staring longingly at Zoe, who sat now with her head bowed and her shoulders drooping.
Four days later, the wildfires started. Many began to whisper that Midas was cursed as the fires took his wealthiest land, destroying vineyards and orchards, but neatly jumping land that wasn’t his. It wasn’t natural, they whispered. He’d brought this punishment on himself. But Midas didn’t care. “Let them burn,” he told the worried managers who came to him. “The vines will grow back stronger with some ash in them.” It was only when the fires circled in close enough to the treasury that Midas began to worry, ordering his amasses treasure to be moved into the Palace itself.
On the tenth day of the fires, a woman came to Midas’ hall. She pleaded with the king to give her shelter away from the fires where she could move her sons until it was safe to live. The king demanded to know why she thought that he would be able to help her.
“My children are my greatest treasure,” she pleaded. “What would you do to protect your greatest treasure?” She gestured to Zoe, sitting as she usually was with her spinning.
“I am protecting my greatest treasure,” Midas said. “The contents of the treasury are now out of danger. Perhaps you should have prepared better.”
Fire flashed in the woman’s eyes. She stood straight, her tattered dress becoming a robe that flowed like fire around her. “I gave you a chance to prove you were a better man. After the way you sent my son home to me, I should have known that you had no heart.” Power suffused the room, pressing down on all, forcing Midas to his knees.
“What are you?” he bit out.
“I am a mother,” she responded simply. “If all you wish is gold, King, then here is my gift and my curse. All the gold and jewels you wish will be yours with a single touch of your hand.” Her voice was gentle and almost teasing before it hardened into stone. “Be careful what you touch, King.” She turned, swept from the hall, and disappeared.
Everyone stared at the doorway for a moment, but Zoe rushed to her father. “Papa, here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let me help you up.” Her other hand rested on the king’s shoulder as he placed his hand in hers. Gold raced up her arm from her father’s fingers so quickly that she barely had the time to gasp. Midas stood and walked away. The looks of horror on the fac
es in the hall caused him to turn. Zoe was frozen in place, a statue of gold. The gems on her necklace were embedded in the statue. Midas took a step towards her, then turned away.
“Take the statue and place it with the other treasures,” he said coldly.
Chapter One
Harlow
Some Hollows lived as if they were shadows, quietly on the edges of society. They begged for food or stole scraps from the great Houses. The worked out of their hovels for tailors or laundresses, doing the grunt work that those with magics didn’t wish to do, but the Hollows knew that at any moment their employer or the man who fed them walking down the street could report them and their life would be over if they couldn’t run fast enough. Some Hollows left the cities and formed communes in the wastes, struggling and nomadic, constantly on the move to be ahead of the authorities. Very few made it across the borders and to safety in other lands.
I chose not to live that way. If I could die at any moment, I was going to live my life.
Which is why, on the night my life was scheduled to get more insane that it already was, I was lounging on a sofa in a brothel, ice shot in hand, wearing little more than a chain around my waist. I came here to blow off steam sometimes, to watch other find their pleasure and to find my own. Tonight, I just wanted to be around the high that came with pleasure. I wanted to melt the cold that had taken grip deep in my soul. The last job had been one of the hardest I had taken on. This time, it had been too late, but I’d held her as she moved less, then not at all. The poison had gripped her body, her eyes freezing last. Even once they had stopped glistening and her chest was no longer rising, they still stared at me accusingly. Why hadn’t I saved her? I had saved so many others, told her stories of them living, so why not her? I couldn’t answer the questions for myself, let alone a girl betrayed by people she thought she could trust.
Meg came and sat next to me, wisps of silk floating around her waist. She handed me a thick mug with steaming liquid and took the shot from my hand. “Drink that,” she ordered, downing my shot. I rolled my eyes but took a sip. The rich coffee blended with a caramel taste. Meg had pulled out all the stops. I’d only tasted this one other time. It warmed me from the inside out and I began to feel my core of ice melting. “I won’t ask the details, but on a scale of one to ten, how bad?” she asked, watching the orgy in front of us. One of the women threw her head back and moaned, tightening her grip on the hair of the man between her legs.
“Ten,” I said softly. Not for the first time I wanted blankets or clothes to arm me against the world, even here where I knew I was safe. Not that they would do much good. Not even metal armor protect me if I was caught. I led a dangerous life, and I knew it. “She was only three.”
“Three?” Meg gasped. “But children have until five!”
“According to the one who hired me, the parents declared her a Hollow early because no one in their family had remained without magic past their third birthday.” I huffed a bitter laugh.
I jumped at the sound of a slap and looked back out to see that two of the women were spanking one of the men while he panted in ecstasy. They alternated hits, and I flinched at every sound. Opulent indulgence was what Meg marketed, but this place was life. Everything was possible because life was celebrated in all its forms. A life that the little girl with her mop of brown curls and bright hazel eyes would never have. A moan rang out from another direction, and I turned to see a man dripping bright blue wax across the nipples of a woman while another man knelt between her legs. There was no judgement from any who frequented the place, although occasionally the employees giggled and gossiped about those who came. None of it would ever have left the building, for while Meg was a kind and caring employer, she safeguarded her client’s privacy with a stone fist.
Meg nodded to someone behind me. “Niko, this is Harlow. She is always a welcome guest here,” Meg said. I turned in my seat to see the slender young man. He was wearing a single piece of fabric wrapped around his waist, showing off his defined physique. “Harlow, Niko is my newest employee. He has hands of gold, and you’re tense enough I could use you as a table. Let Niko rub those knots out of your shoulders.”
I nodded gratefully and stood. Niko held out a hand to me, and I took it with a smile. “I’d be grateful indeed for your ministrations, Niko. It’s been a long week.”
I could have taken Meg up on her offer to sleep in one of the unused rooms, but I didn’t. Niko’s massage had indeed relaxed me, and I felt a measure of peace when I left. After the job I had failed, I needed to be in my own space, with my own belongings, and even my own demons. While my room at the Golden Drachma Inn and Tavern was not large, it was mine, and had been for years. I knew every creak of the wooden floor, every inlay for luck and happiness in the lintels. I knew that staying in one place for so long had made me a target, but having a home was something I needed. Being static was what had gotten Ivy trapped and killed all those years ago. I couldn't live my life on the run.
I knocked twice on a panel on the side of the building and heard a small click as the secret door opened onto a back stair. Sara smiled at me and Addy came running down the stairs to hug me.
“Miss Harlow! You’re back!” Addy said. Sara hushed her and quickly closed the door behind me.
“I told you I would be, sweetling,” I said, lifting Addy in my arms, the ice finally melting away as the scent of a happy, living child assaulted my nose. Addy always smelled of cooking spices and wood, spending her days in the kitchen, but there was a lingering scent under that of sugar. Sunshine surrounded her and I had yet to see anyone stay upset in her presence. It hadn’t manifested, but I knew that her magic would have something to do with keeping those around her happy. “Now, have you been a good girl while I was gone?” I let Addy chatter on as we climbed to the second story of the building. Arida had taken part of the storage space over her kitchens and turned it into three small rooms for people like me. I never underestimated how much she risked. I set Addy down when I reached my door and she scampered off with a giggle, undoubtably to let her mother know that I’d returned.
“You indulge her, Miss Harlow. Mama says she’ll think everyone wants to know all the details of her life if you continue,” Sara said wryly.
“All children should be indulged, Sara,” I said with a sad smile. “None should have to live in worry.”
“You know that my mother and I agree with you.” Sara turned to leave. “Oh! A letter arrived for you. Well, it’s just a scrap, really. It’s on your table.” She smiled brightly and left, shutting the door behind her.
Arida’s gift, one that had been passed down through generations of her family, was one of hospitality, and I never appreciated it more than when I returned home after a difficult job. The fire in the small hearth was banked and my room was warm and bathed in a golden glow. I would always rather come home to this than to an empty and cold room. I set my pack down by the small table and sighed as I looked at the small scrap of paper. Someday, I might actually get to rest before I was called out again. In winter, maybe. It seemed fewer babies were born then, likely due to their parents having better things to do in the warmer months. With a sigh I took the paper. I raised an eyebrow as I read.
If you want to know how this all started, break into the golden box in the vault of Midas.
Chapter Two
Midas
When I met with those who felt that they were important, I climbed to the office at the top of this tower. It was what was expected of me, after all. Those of us who were so far above the common people needed to keep our air from being stained by the stench of them. Few knew that my sanctuary was this heavily guarded corner of the first floor. The walls appeared stone from the outside, but, many generations ago, a spell had been worked that allowed the occupant to watch the outside world.
I found myself watching those who walked by on many occasions. A mother with her child, for instance, the boy dragging his feet. I could imagine him whining about going to lessons
or chores that needed to be completed. His mother whirled and grabbed his arms, scolding him. He gave in to her desires and she smiled and ran her hand through his hair.
I wondered what it would have been like to have someone touch me that way. I’d never in my life known the kindness that I could see in that touch. I didn’t hold the hope that I someday would. The gift of my family that was so admired was a curse to those of us who bore it. My hand flexed into a fist, my thumb smoothing over the buttery leather.
I sighed and turned back to the screen, looking at Nigel’s many reports of how the vast Midas Industries was growing and multiplying our funds and holdings. I spent hours at those reports. Nothing was done at this company that I wasn’t aware of. I knew every person who worked under me, although few knew that.
Two sharp knocks on the door preceded Nigel entering with a tablet resting in the crook of one arm. He nodded sharply and came to stand in front of me. “I have the reports from Alcaten, sir, and the factories there. It appears that one of the foremen is beating the workers, and that is why they are leaving.”