Copper Girl (22 page)

“I’m not sure what you mean, love,” Micah murmured.

“The government,” I said. I looked to Sadie for support, but she was as confused as the rest. “They say that the government takes Dreamwalkers to use as spies. That if you dreamwalk inside a person’s head, you instantly know everything they know.”

I don’t know what emotion was greater, my mortification at Max and Micah’s laughter, or relief that Micah hadn’t been reading my mind. “That’s not exactly how it works,” Micah said, his eyes still twinkling.

“Yeah, sis,” Max chimed in. “Worried your boyfriend knows all your secrets?”

Ignoring the hot blood seeping up my neck, I motioned for Max to get on with his story. “Despite what Sara thinks she knows about dreamwalking,” he said with a pointed look toward me, “we didn’t do any spying. We should have, but we were busy proving that we were nobler than the Mundanes.”

Micah nodded, then asked, “Is this when the Inheritors began disappearing?”

Disappearing? “Yes,” Mom replied. “Fire—Soledad—was the first to go. She was a crotchety old girl, never one to compromise, never one to take a bribe. Beau was certain she’d been killed.”

“Then Air disappeared,” Max continued. “What was his name? I remember him being called Avatar—”

“Heh. Avat-air!” Four sets of eyes glared at me, and I slunk down in my chair.

“Jorge, I believe,” Mom murmured. “He was a good man. They were all good people. The war mages didn’t want to fight, but what else could they do? Elementals were being picked off. It was either join up or be put to the sword.”

“’Join?’” Sadie blinked rapidly. “Join what, exactly?”

When Mom and Max’s only reply was a nervous glance, Micah spoke. “Please. I, myself, have wondered what the Mundanes have been up to for far too long.”

“The Peacekeepers aren’t against magic,” Max said. “They’re all for it. Problem is, they don’t want just anyone wielding it. They want it all for themselves.”

“Then the President wasn’t a spy,” I murmured. “He was a plant.”

Max nodded. “Been that way since the Compacts were signed. Only, the last President never let his personal staff know that he was an Elemental.”

“Foolish woman, that nanny was,” Mom spat. “That fame-grubbing harlot’s bigoted view of her charge’s nature ruined the lives of many children and tore my family apart.”

Max leaned across the table and grabbed Sadie’s hand. “This is why we didn’t tell you, kid,” Max murmured. “They would have hauled you off to the Institute. They
did
take me, thinking I was the Inheritor.”

“And you let them,” Sadie bit off, her face like stone. “My life has been a lie, all because you thought I couldn’t handle the truth!”

“No, baby, no,” Mom murmured. “Your life has been safe because we shielded you. I intended to tell you once you were done with school.”

“Really?” she snapped. “Interesting claim, since I’ll never know if you’re telling the truth.”

“Believe what you wish,” Mom retorted. She would have said more, but fell silent when the silverkin’s leader approached Micah. He reminded me of a shepherd, herding his little shiny flock about the chateau, so I’d started calling him Shep.

Now, Shep chattered away to Micah in the lilting tones all the silverkin used. Even though their language was still difficult for me to follow, Shep was clearly upset about something.

“It seems that the Mundane humans have assembled some sort of a war council at the Institute for Elemental Research,” Micah explained for the benefit of those of us not fluent in silver-speak. “They’ve accused the Iron Queen of absconding with their prisoner,” he added, with a nod to Max.

“Ferra?” Mom spat. “What would she want with Max?”

“She’s tried to capture me before,” Max mumbled. “Or at least, that’s what they told me.” Max sat heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. In the Institute, I mean. I had my own apartment; I could go outside…” He fell silent, memories of the beginning of his incarceration playing behind his eyes. An incarceration he’d willingly gone to, to keep Sadie and me safe.

“The Institute was attacked six, maybe seven years ago,” he continued abruptly. “They said it was Ferra. I never really knew if it was her, but there were iron warriors. I guess it must have been her.”

“What did they do you after the attack?” Mom asked, gently.

“At first, nothing much. I couldn’t go outside alone, but that didn’t really matter. Even before the attack, I wasn’t allowed to leave the courtyard. Then, they caught me messing with a leftover bit of metal from the iron warriors, and everyone freaked. Said I was planning something with Ferra, but that wasn’t true.”

“The sculpture for a girl,” I murmured.

Max laughed mirthlessly. “It was a lily, about the size of my thumb. That’s all it was, yet they insisted it was a tool to destroy them.”

“They wouldn’t listen to reason,” Mom said. Slowly, Max shook his head.

“No. They sure didn’t,” Max mumbled. “They didn’t listen, not at all.”

We all fell silent, awed and humbled by Max’s experiences. It was Micah who spoke next. “When was the metal removed from the facility?”

“The piece I had?” Max asked. “For all I know, it’s still there.”

“Impossible.” Micah stood and paced, rubbing his chin. “There is effectively no metal at all in the building, not in the walls, ceilings, or floors; their blinking devices only have the barest amount. The guards wield plastic weaponry. There is no metal in the ground, not even a trace amount, not even in the bedrock below. It is at least a half mile in all directions before one encounters a sizeable portion of metal again.”

“Are you sure?” Max demanded.

Micah’s face was grave. “Yes. I am certain.”

“Huh.” Max flopped back against the cushions. “I always assumed I couldn’t feel the metal anymore because of the drugs. Why would they bother with all that?”

“I assume to keep you from wielding your power,” Micah said.

“No,” Max said, shaking his head. “They kept me so weak I couldn’t conjure a fart.” He went on, detailing how they had kept him immobile until his muscles had atrophied, feeding him only thin liquids until he was so malnourished he could hardly speak.

“They knew it wasn’t you!” I burst out. “They sucked away all the metal so that when the true Inheritor did come for you, she’d be trapped!”

“That’s…” Max began, then fell silent. He knew I was right, since that’s exactly what
had
happened: I had gone to rescue my brother, and they’d almost had me. If not for Micah, I’d have been stuffed in a nice plastic coffin for all eternity. The only flaw in their plan had been that the wrong sister had come a-calling.

I laced my fingers with Micah’s, and put voice to the question we were all thinking. “What does Ferra have to do with this?”

“Easy,” said Mom. “She wants to be the most powerful Elemental, so she wants to eliminate the true Inheritor. It’s why she went after Beau in the first place. The Ravens have always wielded metal.”

“I hate her,” I grumbled. “I hated her the moment I met her.”

“She probably hated you, too,” Mom said. Then she downed her eye-wateringly alcoholic beverage in one gulp, stood, and regarded us. “Well? Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“To the Institute,” she replied, as if it were obvious. “I’d like to watch Ferra and the bastards who held Max destroy each other. And,” she added with a grin that made my blood run cold, “I’ll be there to deal with whoever’s left.”

When we got to the Institute for Elemental Research, the edifice’s true purpose was revealed. It really was a stone fortress, equally as able to fend off an invasion as to keep Elementals imprisoned. Guards prowled the battlements, scowling as they brandished their plastic weaponry. I shivered, amazed that I’d managed to enter and leave such a place twice. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a third time.

If Micah’s nerves were the least bit shaken by the sight before us, he hid it well. Instead of staring at the Institute in mingled horror and revulsion, as we Corbeaus were, his hand kept finding its way to my bottom.

“Stop,” I whispered, indicating the others with my eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Your strange attire is growing on me,” Micah murmured, a not-unpleasant glint in his eye. True to their promise, the silverkin had managed a few pairs of jeans, all of which fit like gloves. That, coupled with the boots and form-fitting shirt (with a hood!) they’d also provided, and I looked pretty hot, if I did say so myself.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I dressed like a man,” I teased.

“My Sara, there is nothing manly about you,” he replied, punctuating the comment with a gentle squeeze. Since an interlude behind the tree line was out of the question, I hiked his hand up to my waist and turned my attention toward the Institute.

The evil acts committed within those stone walls—which I now saw were topped with plastic razor wire, likely for Max’s benefit—had certainly left their mark, the accumulated misery swirling about it in cold, cold waves. I shivered and wished we had a stone Elemental with us, a strong one, one who could reduce this place to rubble in the blink of an eye.

“They have one,” Max mumbled. I hadn’t realized I was speaking aloud. “They keep her in a special glass cylinder.”

“Is she still in there?” I asked.

“Yeah. They pumped the cylinder full of cement, just to see what she’d do.” Max fell silent, his anguished eyes telling us exactly what the results had been: slow, painful suffocation. Just because we have an affinity for one element doesn’t mean we don’t need the rest. I resumed staring at the Institute, trying to glean what the Peacekeepers were up to.

“Still no metal,” I murmured, eyeing their plastic weapons. “If Max is gone, why not bust out the real guns?”

“What they wield now has proven quite effective,” Micah stated. “Or, perhaps they fear Max’s return. And yours.”

I doubted that, since they must have figured out that Max wasn’t the Inheritor years ago, which meant they were trying to keep metal away from yet another Elemental. I swept my gaze around the perimeter of the vale and found my answer. I made a mental note to tell Mr. Handsy not to distract me during recon.

“Ferra.” I nodded toward what was obviously the Iron Queen’s encampment. Who else would erect tents of iron, cold and glaring in the midday sun? I saw her warriors milling about the perimeter, some blackened and pitted from the many battles they’d fought, others gleaming as if newly forged. Then the queen herself stepped out of the central tent, and I rolled my eyes in disgust.

“Does she
ever
wear a shirt?” I muttered. In true Iron Queen fashion, Ferra was wearing gleaming steel vambraces and greaves, along with a winged headband that reminded me of a cartoon I’d watched as a kid. Completing her battle gear was a low-slung armored skirt made of half-moon-shaped metal plates that reached the tops of her thighs and the crimson cloak she’d worn when she’d received us in her castle. Oh, and she was completely, totally topless. You could hear Max’s jaw unhinge as it thudded against the ground.

“Time was, we all went to battle thusly,” Mom murmured, a wistful look in her eye. I reached back in my memories and recalled the stories Dad used to tell us about an Irish queen famous for her cattle raids.

“Weren’t you cold?” I ventured.

“At first, but the battle quickly heats you. And,” she continued with a wink, “blood washes off healthy flesh much more easily than garments or armor, no matter how fine.”

“Huh.” I put aside the image of my bare-breasted mother bellowing war cries as she drove her chariot over the hills and concentrated on the situation at hand. “So, Ferra’s going to battle the humans?”

“So it would seem,” Mom murmured.

“But, why?” All eyes turned to me. “Why would she be against them now? The only thing that’s changed is that Max is free. Wouldn’t she be happier with Max locked up? I mean, aren’t you a threat to her?” Max’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. For my older brother to agree with me, things must be truly dire.

“What’s more, how does she know you’ve escaped?” wondered Mom. “You haven’t been free two days yet, and surely these gaolers don’t broadcast their failures. She must have someone on the inside.”

We all murmured in agreement, but no one had any grand ideas of how to proceed. Then, Micah suggested, “Why don’t we ask her?” As if that was a good idea.

“Ask her? Why would she tell us anything?” I demanded. “She’s not exactly friendly with us.”

“No, she isn’t.” Micah watched Ferra for another moment, his brow furrowed, then he murmured a few words to Mom and handed her his cloak before turning and making his way down the ridge. Not knowing what else to do, I followed him to the edge of the Iron Queen’s encampment.

The iron warriors crossed their spears before us, barring our way to the camp. “My consort and I wish to speak with the queen,” Micah stated.

The warrior on the left turned toward Micah, his neck creaking. I remembered last night’s rain and wondered if he needed oiling. “Name?”

“Lord and Lady Silverstrand,” Micah bit off. I threaded my fingers through his, willing him to be calm. It certainly wouldn’t do to have an outburst here; I mean, if we were going to freak out and cause some damage, I’d really like to damage Ferra in the process. The iron warrior cocked his head, then after a moment’s contemplation both guards simultaneously raised their spears. Micah didn’t look at them as we passed, nor did he look around the camp. I did, and I wished I hadn’t.