Copper Girl (14 page)

“What are we going to do?” I asked, once I was calm again.

“For right now, we are going to remain here and wait for the storm to cease,” he replied. “Then, we shall retreat to my home and consider how we will retrieve your brother.”

“Is the veil thin nearby?”

His brows peaked. “We are not in the Mundane World,” Micah said, carefully.

“You mean humans are holding Max in the Otherworld?” I gasped. “They… they should not be here. Peacekeepers setting up a base in the Otherworld totally goes against everything the government stands for, everything they fought for!” Why was my dad gone and my brother a science experiment if the Peacekeepers just wanted to dabble in magic behind our backs? Couldn’t they have done whatever they were doing without ripping my family apart?

“I know not what to make of your race,” Micah said bitterly. “In the space of two decades, humans have managed to undo most of the good they’d wrought over these past centuries. And to shun magic, as if a part of one’s spirit can be amputated like a frostbitten toe. Fools. I wonder if this government of yours shouldn’t be overthrown.”

“They should be,” I agreed, “but who would do

it?”

Micah shot me a mischievous glance. “Perhaps we shall do it. But first, let’s free your brother.”

Shortly after dawn the storm abated, and once the sun was shining Micah and I reluctantly put on our lumpy, somewhat dry clothing and left our wooden sanctuary. Once we were outside the oak, I marveled that its trunk seemed no larger than what Micah and I could wrap our arms around and still have our fingers touch, yet its interior had been large enough for both of us to stretch out next to a small fire. Micah had called the oaks his allies, and I was now in firm agreement.

“Thank you, old friend,” Micah murmured, patting the rough bark. “As ever, I am indebted to you.”

Micah took my hand, and we set off through the dense forest. There wasn’t a path, or even a game trail to follow, and the ground bore a thick blanket of wet, slippery leaves.

“How will we get to your home?” I caught my foot on a rock, but Micah steadied me with a hand on my back. My mark flared at his touch; I wondered if he could feel its heat through my sweater. “I can’t even tell where we are or what direction we’re headed.”

“You must learn to read the signs around you,” Micah replied. “The Whispering Dell is to the west and south.”

“We’re going to walk there?”

“Unless my Sara knows how to fly.” I tried to swat his shoulder, but he caught my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

So, we walked. And what a walk it was, beginning with the two of us bashing our own trail through the underbrush like intrepid explorers searching for treasure. It wasn’t too long before the trees thinned a bit, and we could comfortably walk side by side. Micah kept a leisurely pace, likely for my benefit, and I thought I’d take the opportunity to address a few lingering questions.

“How do you appear and disappear?” I asked. “Like that time you were in my room, and Juliana was banging on the door.” Bile rose in my throat at the mention of her name, but I tamped it down. I’d use that emotion later.

“Metal,” he replied, cryptically. After a bit of cajoling, and letting him steal a kiss or three, he elaborated. “If there is sufficient metal nearby, I may travel along it. Think of it like sledding down a hill, only on metal instead of snow. It’s quite easy in your world, what with your many mechanical devices.”

“Does this traveling only work with refined metal?” I asked.

“Refined, as in pure?”

“Can you also travel on natural metal, like an ore?” I clarified.

“Most definitely. I frequently travel along the veins of silver that run beneath the Whispering Dell.”

“Huh.” I wondered if I could do that, too. Goodbye, car insurance and overpriced fuel. “But you said there was no metal where you found me.”

“There isn’t. I sent my dreamself after yours, and when I felt you wake, I followed you with my earthly form.”

“Micah, they could have killed you!”

“You were in far more danger than I.” He hugged me to him, and as much as I hated the thought of Micah in danger, I was so glad he’d followed me. It was all I could do to keep the image of Max, imprisoned in his plastic and electrode coffin, out of my mind, but if Micah hadn’t arrived when he had, I’d likely be sharing that coffin with my brother.

In far less time than I’d feared, we crested the ridge above Micah’s sparkling silver home. Even though I’d seen it a few times already, the sight of his highly polished chateau-like manor took my breath away. But now I thought it could be much improved with a copper roof.

Our approach took us to the back of the house, and I walked through Micah’s gardens for the first time. They were an orderly affair, reminding me of the knot gardens that had once graced stately English manor homes. Short, trim hedges of boxwood and rosemary made a labyrinth of tight corners and spiraling circles, and lush carpets of flowering herbs filled the tiny green rooms. Arm in arm, Micah indulged me by leading me through the twisting paths; we must have been a sight, the two of us navigating amidst hedges that scarcely reached our knees. The diminutive maze ultimately terminated at the stone statue of a woman, set high atop a marble base and surrounded by white roses. The base was inscribed with what I assumed to be her name: Selene.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured. “Is she an ancestor of yours?”

“My mother,” Micah replied. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. I had brought more than enough family drama to the party, so if he wanted to leave his out that was fine with me. There would be enough time to ask him about it later.

We kept on through the maze, and a few strides past his mother’s statue we emerged before his home, to be met promptly by a bevy of silverkin, Micah’s energetic, insanely devoted servants. As they ushered us inside, Micah quickly apprised their leader of what had happened since last night, including the aid offered by the mighty oaks. After a bit of discussion, they decided to send a tribute of blessed rainclouds to the copse, so the noble trees need never go thirsty.

“My consort will also require clothing,” Micah continued. As he had made clear many times, jeans and sneakers were not befitting a lady of my stature. We would just see about that. “What else do you need, my Sara?”

“Maybe a shower,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair. After running through the rain and lying on dirt all night, it had seen better days. “And breakfast?” I added, hopefully.

“Food is being prepared,” he said, to my relief. “As for bathing, I do not possess an indoor waterfall such as you humans crave. I hope you will find my primitive accommodations acceptable.”

Micah offered a shallow bow along with an outstretched hand, and I giggled as I accepted. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, banishing the proper butler image he’d so carefully crafted, and led me along several halls full of twists and turns. Each passage was as spectacular as the last, what with the shining silver walls and jewel-colored tapestries, but after a time, all the lovely sights blurred together. I wondered if I’d ever be able to find my way around Micah’s home without a map and sunglasses.

Eventually, we entered a corridor that was different than the rest, being that its centerpiece was a painting comprised, not of jewel tones, but actual jewels. It depicted a woman with pale golden hair and blue eyes; I assumed the colors had been rendered with citrine and sapphire. She was lovely, but with sad, sad eyes. I wondered if I was looking at a jeweled representation of Micah’s mother.

The corridor ended with a massive wooden door (I wondered if it was a relative of the oak that had sheltered us), which opened onto yet another courtyard. In contrast to the orderly knot garden, this space was filled to bursting with flowering and fruiting trees in every variety and color imaginable, and many I could never have conceived of. Delicately carved marble benches and statues wound among the trees, but they were not what made the courtyard grand. The undeniable centerpiece was a wide pool, so still that, for a moment, I thought it might be quicksilver or glass.

“This is where you bathe?” I breathed.

“It is,” Micah replied, already pulling his tunic up and over his shoulders. I spied movement on the far side of the pool, and caught Micah’s arm.

“Micah, there’s a woman in there,” I whispered loudly.

“Of course,” he replied, now unlacing his breeches. “This is her pool. If she favors you, she may let you borrow a comb,” he added with a wink.

I was momentarily stunned. Micah really expected me to bathe with…her? Whoever—whatever—she was? I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a better look at this creature inhabiting Micah’s bathwater. She was obviously some sort of water being, and as she was naked, I knew without a doubt she was a she. Still, she didn’t look like any mermaid or undine or naiad I’d ever heard of. Her long hair was the palest blue, and it flowed like a gentle stream over her pale pink shoulders and breasts. Those blue tresses also did a very poor job of covering her as she lounged on the pool’s bank, with only her feet dangling beneath the water’s surface, not that she seemed to notice. In fact, she was thoroughly preoccupied with combing out her hair, and had a selection of combs and mirrors laid out beside her.

Why is everyone in the Otherworld always naked?
Micah was already wading into the pool, either oblivious or uncaring with regard to her—and his—unclothed state. With a pang, I remembered my college examination, and the hundred or so strange onlookers.
Well, at least it’s only one
.

My clothing, stiff with dried rainwater and mud, soon made an untidy heap at my feet. I dipped a toe in the pool and found it pleasantly warm. Since I didn’t really have a reason not to, I followed Micah’s example and waded in, then ducked my head. When I surfaced, I felt instantly clean and refreshed, and the notion of soap just seemed frivolous.

As I stretched my sparklingly clean limbs, I spied Micah’s tangled silver hair and decided that now was as good a time as any to make nice with his supernatural neighbors. Both Micah and the woman watched intently as I made my way through the water, Micah with his bemused smile and her with a look of calm indifference.

“Excuse me,” I said to our poolmate, “may I please borrow a comb?”

“Will you use it with good intent, and return it to me unscathed?” she countered.

“Of course,” I replied. She smiled, and handed me a fine silver implement. The handle was carved abalone, with tiny pearls set along the edge of the shell. Reassured by my simple victory, I murmured my thanks, and returned to Micah’s side. He had taken a seat on a rock set beneath the surface, and the water reached his chest. I stood behind him and began to comb out his hair.

“She allowed you use of her comb?” he asked.

“She did,” I replied. “What’s her name?”

“I call her Bright Lady of the Clear Pool,” Micah replied. Well, that was cumbersome.

“I don’t like your hair wet,” I mumbled, tugging the comb through a nasty tangle. Sleeping on the ground in a tree was not good for your hair, Elemental or not. “I like it when it’s puffy, like a dandelion.” Micah shot me a glance, and the Bright Lady might have laughed. Sensing that I’d broached a touchy subject, I shifted topics by tracing the uppermost edge of his mark. “Is this real silver in your skin?”

“Silver flows throughout my body,” he replied. “I call upon it when I’m in need.” I remembered the great force he’d struck the guards with, how his bones hadn’t broken when we’d jumped from the window, and that he’d twisted so he could hit the ground first, sheltering me in his arms. I wondered if I could do the same. As if he’d read my mind, Micah flexed his hand into a fist, and I watched as it took on a pale, reflective sheen. When I touched his flesh, it had the cool hardness of metal. A quick glance at his back confirmed my suspicion.

“You called the silver to your hand,” I murmured, stroking the abrupt line on his wrist where the warm flesh gave way to hard metal. “My raven is real copper?” I asked, and he affirmed it. “So, that’s why I weigh so much. All this time, I just thought I was fat.”

At that, he shook the silver from his hand, just as a Mundane man would shake off a bit of rain, then twisted around and snatched me in his arms. “I’ll not hear you insulting yourself,” he warned. “The beauty of my consort is not in question.” Ignoring my warm cheeks, I perched on his knee and began combing out the front of his hair.

“If I was an Air Elemental, would I have a… a windy mark?” I ventured.

“Your element would be represented upon your flesh in some manner,” Micah stated. “The air marks I’ve seen appear as blue or gray brushstrokes, like paintings of the wind. But then, I’ve seen very few marks that are not metal. Those whose magic is beholden to different elements do not usually commingle.”

Huh. We really
didn’t
all get along. The government had actually been right about something. “Like how fire makes water evaporate, or water makes metal rust?” At that, I glanced at the water we lounged in, hoping that our bath hadn’t just doomed Micah and me to a few creaky joints.