Copper Girl (2 page)

Happy hour turned into last call, and Juliana gladly accepted my offer of crashing on my couch. We were forever staying over at one another’s apartments, since we lived on opposite sides of town. Not to mention that Juliana didn’t own a car and public transportation was both expensive and unreliable. If you counted on the bus schedule, you might get caught out after curfew, and the Peacekeepers, our friendly neighborhood law enforcement goons, weren’t known for their understanding natures. Since neither Juliana nor I wanted to pay the late penalty, whoever’s place was closer to the side of town we ended up on invariably became our resting place for the evening. Since I lived closest to The Room, I played hostess more often.

While Juliana settled herself on the couch, I grabbed a quick shower, only to end up standing before my closet, dripping wet, overthinking what I would wear to bed. Like it mattered, right? Normally, I’m a tank top and shorts girl, but there was this cute, just sexy enough nightie that hung out in the back of my closet. Pale lavender silk, I’d bought it almost a year ago for a boyfriend who hadn’t lasted long enough to see it. His loss, really.

I unceremoniously dropped my robe and slipped the nightie over my head. The lace bodice was so revealing I was practically topless, and the short skirt Roated over my hips. As I pulled on the matching panties, I deliberately did not question why I’d decided on this outfit. Then I Ripped off the air conditioner
(whenever it runs while I sleep, I get a headache)
, opened the window, and climbed into bed. In no time, I was asleep.

I felt him before I saw him, his firm body pressed against mine, his lips caressing the back of my neck.
Micah
. I rolled over to face him; even in the darkness of my room I could see he was still in that weird brown getup, boots and all, but I didn’t care. Hopefully, it would be gone soon.

“Micah,” I murmured, savoring his name on my tongue. “You’re here.”

“I heard your call, my Sara,” he murmured. “You’re wearing more here,” he continued, tracing the edge of my panties, “but less here.” His deft fingers danced across my lacy bodice.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.” Micah hooked a finger inside my panties and drew them lower. “I most certainly do.” We remained wrapped up in each other for long, blissful moments, until he spoke again. “I am so glad you called me again, my Sara.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” I asked. Yes, I argued with a dream. I am a psychology student’s dream case study. Ha ha. Dream. “You’re not even real.”

At that, Micah raised his head. “I am as real as you are,” he replied, somewhat indignantly. “Twice now, you have called me to your dream.”

What? No, no, no, no, that’s not good. Not good, not good at all. “That’s not possible,” I whispered.

“It is more than possible, my Sara. It has come to pass.” Serious now, Micah sat up and took my hands. “I have watched you often, gazing toward the entrance to my lands. I’ve always felt your power. Still, until earlier today, I had no idea that you were a Dreamwalker, as I am.”

He said it. He just had to say it
. “Don’t say that!” Micah looked hurt and confused, so I amended, “If anyone hears you, there’ll be questions.” I glanced toward the open window, but I neither saw nor heard a drone whizzing by.

Micah nodded, but his brow remained furrowed. “As you wish.”

“I still don’t understand,” I continued, moving to sit up. “You say I was looking toward your lands, but I don’t even know where you’re from.”

“Where you put your mechanical for the day,” he replied as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “The trees you favor mark the entrance to my domain.”

Once I figured out that “mechanical” meant “car”, I considered where I parked in the office lot. I’d always chosen to leave my convertible in the back of the lot, mainly because it was a nice car and most of my coworkers, like most everyone else these days, were dirt poor. I didn’t want to answer any questions about how I could afford such a nice vehicle if I didn’t have to.

But Micah was right in that I’d always favored one particular spot. It was situated in front of two pine trees, their massive trunks wound together like a lovers’ embrace. I’d never seen anything like it, certainly not in such big trees, and they’d captivated me from the moment I saw them. And yes, I gazed at them often.

“The pine trees?” I asked. Micah smiled when he nodded. But that didn’t answer my questions, since they weren’t in front of a door or path. There wasn’t even anything behind them, except the electric fence separating REES from the property next door.

Suddenly, my eyes widened in shock and recognition, and I grabbed a handful of his silvery hair, exposing a set of pointed ears. “You’re an elf!”

“Micah Silverstrand, Lord of the Whispering Dell,” he replied, with a polite nod. Rubbing my temples, I considered my situation. I was in a dream that wasn’t a dream, sitting in bed with a man whom I’d thought was a mere figment of my imagination, but who happened to be some sort of royal elf. And a Dreamwalker. Like me, though I had been oh, so careful to forget all that. Maybe—hopefully—I was just really drunk.

But… I can’t explain it, but as I looked at this elf, with his silver eyes and fluffy hair, he was more real to me than anyone else I’d ever known
.

“I’m sorry, Micah,” I said at length. “I didn’t know I could call anyone this way. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

At that, his pale brows nearly touched. “When you offered a token and lay nearly bare before me, I assumed you wanted me.” Token? Oh, right, my panties. “And tonight, you have bathed for me, attired yourself as a queen, and have allowed me ingress to your chamber. What else was I to think?” I stared from the open window to my silk nightie. Why
had
I put this on? Had I been calling him, subconsciously? Could I even do that? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t do it again. Not unless I wanted to end up like Max.

Micah was still speaking, so I met his gaze. “When I learned that you are of metal, as I am, our attraction became clear.”
Crap. He knows I’m an Elemental, too?

Of metal.
There are two ways one can learn the workings of magic: years and years of rigorous study, or by simply being born to it. If you’re born into a magical bloodline, you’re said to be touched by an element, either earth, air, fire, water, or metal. The nature of your element is passed from father to child, just like a surname. Once in a while, someone is born touched by more than one element, but that’s awfully rare
.

You also take on the characteristics of your chosen element, or rather, the element that’s chosen you. For instance, those touched by fire tend to be quick to anger, and those of earth are stubborn but loyal. I’ve never met anyone who admitted to being touched by water, but I’ve always imagined them as cowardly. And air? If you’re knows what they’re like? Flighty, perhaps?

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.