Scorched_Earth_B_N Page 3

  “I’ll tell you about her as you drive,” he said, practically daring her to get in.

  She glared at Tremor through the open driver’s side window. If she got in the car, she knew she was committed. With a sinking feeling, she privately acknowledged she was already deeply involved. He knew more about this than she did, and she needed help.

  Maybe someone should commit her.

  “The Oracle's assassins are going to keep coming. We need a more defensible position and I need to speak with my friends,” he prodded. “You wouldn’t want your parents’ house to be destroyed; it wouldn’t survive a rocket launcher and machine guns. Your parents could be hurt.”

  She silently groaned as she gave in and slid behind the wheel. He had to play the family card. “They won't be back from Mexico for another two weeks.”

  “Why did they go? Can you delay them if necessary?”

  “I doubt it. They're visiting family. My dad owns a locksmith company and my mother sells real estate. They send money back to family; but they also visit my grandparents and their brothers and sisters occasionally. They’ll need to get back to work.”

  “And what do you do? Will you be missed?”

  “Planning to hide my body?” she asked sourly as she pulled out of the drive and turned onto the road.

  He just looked at her.

  Cara heaved a sigh. “I work at a winery in sales and marketing.” It sounded more glamorous than it was; it was only an entry-level position. She worked the counter, took inventory and orders, but she liked it.

  “You’ll need to quit.”

  “What? No, I need my job to pay for welding classes! I start next quarter and they’re expensive. I already live with Mom and Dad to save money; I won’t have them pay for classes, too.” It had taken a couple of years in the work force to figure out what she wanted to do, but she had a plan now. She didn’t want to change it without serious thought.

  Tremor stared her down. “I feel certain your parents would rather you be safe. Besides, how will you protect your coworkers if someone wishes to interrogate them? If they don’t know where you are, they won’t have anything to fear.”

  Cara thought about her eccentric, sixty-year-old boss in the hands of one of the men who’d tried to kill her and shuddered. She wouldn’t have a chance. “I just can’t leave her hanging,” Cara said weakly. “I have a spotless work record.” Maybe it was stupid to worry about her work ethic at a time like this, but responsibility had been drilled into her from an early age.

  “Then we’ll make her want you to leave,” Tremor suggested. “I have a plan. Meanwhile, you wanted to know about the Oracle. She’s a jilted admirer of a fire elemental her people worshiped. She lived in Pompeii a long time ago.”

  “Pompeii? The one that was buried in ash?” Cara couldn’t remember the date, but she knew the disaster had happened centuries ago.

  “Yes. Her people dumped victims in his volcano, Fire lost his temper and the volcano erupted. He saved the prophetess though, since she’d tried to warn him.”

  “So she was in love with him?”

  “Apparently. He didn’t return her affection, however, and she felt spurned. She’s taught all her descendants to hate our kind ever since.”

  “That’s quite a grudge.” Cara mulled it over and brought up the point that was bothering her. “I still don’t understand why the Fates felt like they had to turn me into an elemental. Do they run around doing that all the time? Are there so few of you? Are they human?”

  He tapped his thigh, clearly troubled. “I’m unsure of their race, but I’ve never heard of another human being turned. I’d have said it was impossible, but here you are.”

  “And that stuff about being your wife? We are not married,” she said forcefully. “We’re not even dating.”

  There was a long pause. “There was a time when the Fates were revered among my people. At that time, they asked a few of us to forge wedding jewelry for our future wives. The special properties of the jewelry cause them to adhere permanently to the wearer. It’s a beautiful symbol of enduring love and fidelity.” There was another awkward silence. “It seems they used the power of the jewelry to bind you to this form.”

  Cara’s eyes rounded in horror. “They tricked you out of your stuff so they could mutate me? Those bitches! How could they?”

  He studied her carefully. “Thank you for your outrage, but you don’t understand. According to our laws, we are truly married.” Her jaw dropped, so he went on, “There’s no one alive who would challenge a match made by the Fates.”

  She pulled into the winery parking lot and slammed the brakes. She seemed incoherent for a moment, but quickly recovered her tongue. “I challenge them! I’m not even your species!” She struggled for words, overwhelmed by the implications. “You don’t buy this, do you?”

  He looked into the distance, clearly thinking it over. “I’m as overwhelmed as you are. This has happened so fast, and I could use counsel.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “As far as I’m concerned, we definitely aren’t married. I’m still a US citizen, and we don’t marry against our will. Anyone who says differently can stuff it.” She grabbed the door handle, eager to escape, but he grabbed her arm.

  He met her gaze evenly. “We will discuss this later. Meanwhile, we have other things to do.”

  He stroked a thumb over her soft skin, distracting her from arguing further. The gentle touch tingled, and she shivered. Her gaze shot to his in confusion. Was he doing it on purpose?

  “We have to do something about this pretty skin. I promise I will fix it,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Meanwhile, you’ll have a good reason to present to your boss for quitting.” As he spoke, bumps appeared on her skin. Hard, gray stone scales covered her arms in patches, making her shiver in horror.

  “What did you do?” she cried, scratching at them, but they were firmly adhered.

  “It’s just cosmetic,” he soothed, getting out and opening her door. “Let’s go talk to your boss.”

  “You can’t come in like that.” She gestured, indicating his lack of shirt and shoes.

  “We won’t be staying,” he promised as he escorted her to the door. Her pebbled skin distracted her and he had to catch her when she stumbled on the threshold. “Steady.”

  “Yeah,” she gasped, looking around the tasting room for her boss. Luckily she was nearby, watering potted plants. The woman caught one look at her and dropped her watering can.

  “What on earth?” Mrs. Leery hurried over, screeching to a halt an arm’s length away. She peered at Cara’s face, her horrified gaze dropping to take in her arms. “What happened to you?”

  “Stay back, please. It’s extremely catching,” Tremor cautioned. He gestured to his own rough looking skin in illustration, and Mrs. Leery back peddled until she was behind the counter.

  “I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” Cara stammered, wondering what her face looked like, praying that Tremor really could restore it. “I wanted to show you, so you could understand. The doctor said I should stay home for a few weeks until it clears up.”

  “It’s chronic,” Tremor said helpfully. “The doctors aren’t able to cure leprosy…”

  “Leprosy!” Mrs. Leery put a hand on her chest.

  Tremor nodded. “Don’t worry. There’s a lovely leaper colony on Hawaii. We’ll send you a post card after the wedding.” He looked bashful. “We want to get married before anything important falls off.”

  Cara made a strangling noise as he patted her back. He nodded sagely. “That’s true, sweetheart. If it hadn’t been for the disease, we never would have met.” He put an arm around her as Mrs. Leery goggled, speechless. He gestured to the floor as they stepped out. “You might want to sterilize that.”

  Cara didn’t say a word until he opened her car door. “You…” she spluttered, unable to speak.

  He handed her in and climbed in his own side. “I know, genius. Plague fear will cripple humans every time.”


  She stared at him, then grabbed for the rearview mirror. Her skin was perfect. Surprised, she glanced at the smooth skin of her arms.

  “It’s all gone,” Tremor soothed. “You look beautiful.”

  She sent him a speaking look and started the car. It was the most communication they had until they reached the Garden of the Gods.

  Since her family lived on the outskirts of Colorado Springs, she’d been to the Garden of the Gods many times; which was why she sat and stared at the stacked and twisted stone, bewildered. “Why are there bubble windows coming out of the stone? Are they doing a movie set here?” Prismatic bubbles exploded from every rock, framed with stone or metallic casings rimmed with strange script. She saw people sitting in a long bubble, as if on an enclosed balcony. The fingers of rock looked like stalks of Brussels sprouts made of stone and glass. There were a lot more people than she’d ever seen before, many of them moving with business-like swiftness.

  “You’re seeing with an elemental’s eyes,” Tremor said, climbing stiffly out of the car. “According the Fate’s information, an old friend of mine lives here.”

  “What, they gave you a virtual directory?” Cara hurried after him, locking the car. He still moved stiffly, and she had to wonder how strong he was. It made her uneasy to come here like this with him so unwell. She didn’t know anything about these elementals, and there might be trouble if they had to run.

  Elementals wove amongst the oblivious humans, going about their business. She could only assume they were in a slightly different dimension; she had no other explanation for the way so many strange things could exist unseen to her kind. It made her wonder how many other strange things were true.

  With bodies like warm, living stone, these elementals seemed much healthier than Tremor. They received several curious or concerned glances, though Tremor’s confident posture discouraged offers of help. He led her along the wide stone paths, graciously quiet about her staring.

  Why wouldn’t she stare? This was as weird as watching a UFO land on the White House lawn. Cara shook her head, unable to take it all in. It would take days to absorb the wonder of this place. Not only did it go up several stories, in many places the streets were crystal clear, revealing a complex of buildings that descended many levels. She nearly tripped over her feet peering at the layers of glass streets below her. The entire thing was illuminated as if daylight were streaming in. “How is that lit? Fiber optics? I’d swear you piped the sun down there.”

  He shrugged. “Even humans have some understanding of light in this age, and this place has existed for thousands of years. Elementals have technology and magic, if you will.”

  “Magic,” she said, eyes narrowed. She hadn’t liked the way he’d said ‘even humans’, as if her race were inferior.

  He led her past the Kissing Camels rock formation, now framing a swirling gate of energy. As she watched, a cloud of dust streamed out of the gate and solidified into a male elemental on the Balancing Stone, a huge, wedge-shaped boulder delicately balanced on a wind-sculpted pedestal. With elemental eyes, she could see the spiral stairs wrapped around it. She shook her head, amazed. “Can you become dust, too?”

  “When I’m well,” he admitted quietly. “Here we are.” He paused at an angle in the rocks and tapped the door there. It chimed like a chorus of bells. A burly man answered it and looked at them dubiously. “Yes?”

  “Tell Straith that Tremor is here to see him. Remind him it’s been eight centuries.”

  The man looked dubious but invited them to sit in the parlor. Cara gawked at the jade and topaz tiled floor and gilded, sculptured walls. Sparkling crystals grew from the ceiling and walls, lighting the room like a chandelier and wall sconces. The perfectly balanced stone parlor doors opened with a touch, revealing a room filled with couches upholstered in blue fabric with lots of glittery silver threads. Silver cushions dotted the couches for extra comfort, and a profusion of blue and green crystals lit the room, adding to the light from the bubble window.

  Tremor sat carefully, and Cara had the impression it was just in time. As the man left to fetch refreshments and to inform his boss of visitors, Cara asked, “Who is this friend of yours?”

  Tremor sighed. “We used to party in the old days. He’s a senator here and owes me a favor.”

  “He’s going to remember after all this time?”

  “He’ll remember.” A woman entered and placed a tray before them. Two thick glass cups held a frosty beverage, and a small pile of dainties filled three plates. She left as silently as she’d come.

  Cara handed him a cup and sampled the drink in hers. “Mm. Fruity.”

  “Garnet juice. Good for the blood,” Tremor commented, draining his.

  She blinked, unsure how one got juice from a stone, but took his word for it. She tried a soft brown ball rolled in grainy yellow stuff and made a sound of approval.

  He noticed her enjoyment and commented, “Basalt balls with sugar sand. You’ll probably like the sandstone squares, but the shale-limestone on quartz might be a bit spicy. I prefer slate and quartz myself.”

  Cara stopped chewing, staring at the snack incredulously, but bravely sampled the rest of the food. It was crazy to be munching on rock, even though it seemed as soft as cookies and sandwiches. Maybe she was in shock, stress-eating rocks.

  She nibbled experimentally on the layered stone squares. Sandstone was okay, but she actually liked the shale-limestone sandwich best. Who knew?

  “Tremor!” a hearty voice interrupted her thoughts. An elemental of polished brown stone greeted Tremor happily, pulling him out of his chair and pounding his back until he coughed. His hair was caramel colored and highly glossed, and his tunic and trousers looked formal, upper crust. Straith had armbands spiraling each arm, and buttons in his ears stretching the lobes. It was his attitude that quickly set Cara’s teeth on edge.

  Oblivious, the man said frankly, “What happened to you, man? You look like a mud bogger’s dreck.”

  Tremor smiled wryly. “You’re being kind: everyone knows where I’ve been. The Fates finally deemed me reformed and let me out.”

  The man made a dismissive gesture. “Pfft. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Sure, a few humans got hurt, but it was an accident. We were just playing.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Who hasn’t squished a human or two? Can’t be helped; they’re like ants.”

  Tremor sent a cautionary look to Cara, perhaps warning her not to take the bait. “I could use a place to stay for a few days.”

  “Anything for you.” He looked at Cara curiously, his eyes sweeping her jewelry in speculation. “And who is your lovely companion?”

  “Cara,” she put in firmly before Tremor could answer. “I’m helping him for the moment. You must be Straith.”

  “The one and only.” He bowed. “Why don’t I arrange for a room for you two…or is that two rooms?”

  “Better make it one. He’s been under the weather lately and I want to keep an eye on him,” Cara answered. She didn’t care what the conventions here were; she wasn’t losing sight of Tremor. She didn’t like what she knew of Straith and she didn’t feel safe. Tremor had a penchant for saving her and probably felt grateful. After all, she helped free him and his friends.

  Straith conveyed the orders to his manservant and turned to them. “You timed it right; I’m having a party tonight. It’ll be just like old times. I’ll leave you to settle in while I wrap up some business, shall I? I want to be able to devote my full attention to my special guests. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  The spiraling stairs glittered with bronze and gold tiles. Cara looked over the banister as they followed the servant up the stairs. Servants bustled around, probably getting ready for the party. She put a hand on Tremor’s arm to steady him as they climbed, lips tightening as she speculated that Straith could have given them a room closer to ground level. He didn’t seem the most sensitive type, but his eyes had been sharp.

  Their room had an excellent view of the
Garden of the Gods; she could see deliveries arriving for tonight’s entertainment, which she did not wish to attend. The room was nicely appointed in desert colors, but she couldn’t shake her instant distaste for the owner. She shut the bronze door. “I think he liked to see you sick.”

  The bedposts were made of polished gold and amber and reminded her of a cannonball bed. Tremor lay on it with a grateful sigh. “He was always competitive.”

  She crossed her arms and surveyed him. “How long are you planning to stay here?”

  He grunted, putting an arm over his eyes. “I just need a little time to recover. You’ll be safe here.”

  Cara looked out the window. Everything was so alien, and she didn’t have a plan. She had a life to resume, and her parents would come home soon. How would she explain her new circumstances? Should she? She glanced at Tremor, but he looked exhausted. Obviously, she would have to explore and find out more about this world. “Is it safe for me to look at the Garden alone?”

  He looked startled. “You want to go out?” He thought about it. “You should be fine. The Oracle’s men won’t try to kill you in such a populated area. They’ll wait until you leave. Don’t go far, though; I don’t want you to get lost.”

  She wandered around restlessly, noting the carved stone tub and roomy tiled shower. There was a cupboard with an array of rock food in the sitting room, so Tremor should have plenty to eat. It brought up an interesting question, though. “Why do you bother making fancy rock snacks when you can simply draw energy from the ground?”

  “There’s a limited supply in a place like this. Why do humans build houses and visit grocery stores? You could hunt deer and live in caves.”

  “Very funny. You realize I know nothing about your world? I don’t like being at a disadvantage.”

  He looked at her, his expression softening. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She snorted. “Very noble, but I’m not the wilting maiden type. I can take care of myself. For that matter, I have classes on Monday. I can’t just ditch.”

  “I don’t have the energy to protect you yet, and anyone at your school would be in danger,” he cautioned. “As soon as I’ve recovered, I can more than provide for you.”