Read Elementally Priceless Online

Authors: Shannon Mayer

Elementally Priceless

Elementally Priceless

SHANNON MAYER

Table of Contents

ELEMENTALLY PRICELESS

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY SHANNON MAYER

Copyright

Elementally Priceless, A Rylee Adamson Novella

Copyright © Shannon Mayer 2014

All rights reserved

Published by HiJinks Ink Publishing, Ltd.

www.shannonmayer.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of the copyright and the above publishers.

Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Or deliberately on purpose, depending on whether or not you have been nice to the author.

Original Cover Art by Damon Za

Mayer, Shannon

Chapter 1

Rylee

I TRAILED MY
 fingers down the side of the crumpled missing person poster, taking in the hard feel of weathered paper. That was one of the downsides of Bismarck, North Dakota. Weather wasn’t exactly kind, regardless of season, and tended to age everything. Paper and people included. About half dozen pictures plastered the board, young and old alike, but this one poster—I couldn’t take my eyes from it.

The edges crinkled, curling with age, and the picture was faded, but I still saw the kid in the center.

Jonathan Aaron Black. Age 10. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. Missing over 2 years. Mentally incapacitated, needs medication. Please contact family if found. $25,000 for information leading to his recovery.

I stared at his photocopied eyes, the way they crossed and the dull level of apathy behind them. This was the one I wanted to go after, my heart tugged at me to find him, and take him home.

Giselle, my mentor, warned me not to tackle any “salvages” on my own. Shit, her voice always echoed in my head. Always warning me, always cautioning me.

“Rylee, finding missing children; those are the most dangerous salvages. You don’t know the reason they were taken. And you don’t have the experience to know an easy case from a complicated or perilous one.”

But I wanted to bring all of them home; those lost ones needed someone to champion them. And for me, being accused of murdering my younger sister and hiding her body, made it that much more important to bring at least some families back together.

All I had was my ability to Track. An innate talent that manifested when I was sixteen. I could find anyone, anywhere, no matter how far away they were. Even if they were dead. My sister was the only one I couldn’t find, the only one I would never bring home, and that fact ate at my soul and drove me harder than any taskmaster could.

As far as I knew, I was the only Tracker around, which made learning the ropes interesting. But for me, it was more than that. Tracking missing kids gave me the chance to make right what I couldn’t in my own life. A shudder of guilt and sorrow rippled through me, stealing my breath.

I shook those thoughts away. 
Don’t dwell on the past, not now.

My finger traced the words in front of me, pausing over the monetary amount. The money would be a bonus. At nineteen, I was tired of being dependent on Giselle for everything. The last three years had been rough, and I wanted to start living my own life. Giselle had come to my rescue when my own family turned on me, believing the worst of me. She wasn’t related by blood, but she was the only family I had. One of the few I truly trusted.

Besides, Giselle wasn’t with me and couldn’t stop me from going on this salvage. A smile curled my lips. Using my one natural talent, I sent out a mental thread, Tracking and trying to connect with young Jonathan’s essence. At the very least I would know if he was alive. That was the beauty of my ability. No matter how far away someone was, I could find them.

Milly, my best friend with eyes as green as spring grass—who also happened to be the other girl Giselle mentored, once said I was a psychic bloodhound. Even though I got into a wrestling match with her over that title, it 
was
 kinda accurate. Alive or dead, and I much preferred alive, I could find anyone I had a name and a picture for.

At least anyone who wasn’t my sister.

Young Jonathan would be no different than the other people I’d Tracked. Though to be fair, after missing for two years, I didn’t think I’d get a heartbeat back on him.

I was shocked as shit when not only did I get a heartbeat, but a strong directional pull. Far to the southwest, the kid was alive and well from the energy flowing along the threads to me. Which meant not only could he be found, I could take him home to his parents.

“Fucking awesome,” I whispered, smiling to myself as I pulled the aged poster from the grocery store board. Giselle wasn’t home, off on some self-interpretation thing I had no interest in, and Milly had gone to some guy’s place for the weekend. My grin got wider. Giselle would never even know.

My first solo salvage. This would prove I was good enough to go out on my own.

Heart pounding, I fought not to run home. Already my mind raced ahead to the salvage. I needed my weapons, cash, and change of clothes. The only problem was I had no mode of transportation.

But I would figure that out. How, I didn’t know, but I knew something would work out.

I ran up the steps to the three-story older style house I called home. Even though it was really Giselle’s place; it had become a refuge for me. My room was on the top floor and I burst in, packing a bag as fast as I could. The only weapons I had were a single sword that I strapped to my back, two short knives I tucked into the tops of my boots, and a Swiss army knife I stuck into my back pocket.

I closed my eyes, took a long slow breath, and continued to Track Jonathan, keeping a tight hold on his threads. He was still there, southwest. I couldn’t get a better bead than that.

In June, as hot as North Dakota was, heading southwest would only make it hotter. The sword strapped to my back was easily visible, and wearing a jacket to cover it would not only make my life miserable, but could make people stare. That put taking the bus on the ‘not happening’ list. Low profile was key when it came to salvages. The last thing I needed was someone reporting me to the police. I cringed at the very possibility.

The sound of a familiar rumbling engine caught my ear and I peered out my window. My heart hammered at the sight of the lean body of one seriously cute neighbor as my thoughts about rescuing Jonathan scattered.

Sure, said neighbor was five or six years older, but hell, a blind woman would stare. Even a saint would drool.

And I was no saint.

At just over six feet tall, with the body of a freaking Adonis, Caleb was pretty much any woman’s dream and I was no exception. Dirty blond hair and eyes I thought might be a stormy gray (I’d never actually gotten close enough to see) he had a way of smiling that melted knees and ice alike. At that moment, he was standing in his front drive, without a shirt on, his tanned muscles flexing and catching the summer sun in a very appealing fashion as he fiddled with the engine on his motorbike.

I had enough cash on me for gas if someone would be willing to let me borrow their ride. Or maybe even drive me to where Jonathan waited. Caleb could come in seriously handy.

As a mode of transportation, of course; nothing more. Of course, it would depend on me being able to convince him to help me.

Gripping the edge of the window, I stared at him. If I were Milly, I’d just sashay over there, thrust out my boobs, and have the bike keys in a matter of seconds. But I’d never been much of a boob thruster. Never mind the fact my eyes swirled with three very distinct colors and tended to freak people out when they got a good look at me. Milly with her long dark hair and spring green eyes would have been a serious asset in getting what I wanted from Caleb.

So the question was how the hell could I get him to lend me his bike without Milly?

An idea began to form and I didn’t question it, just ran out of my room barely remembering to grab my bag as I went. If I thought about what I was doing, I might chicken out, and Jonathan needed me.

Glancing once to make sure no cars were coming, I jogged across the street before my nerve left. “Hey, Caleb.”

He turned and I fought to keep breathing, reminding myself this was so I could help a kid who’d been missing for two years. Jonathan needed me to be strong, not some silly schoolgirl crushing on her neighbor. I took a slow breath and held it for a second before letting it out.

“Hey. You’re Milly’s sister, right?”

Close enough.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you knew her.” I tightened my grip on my bag, my hands sweating.

He laughed and shook his head. “Everyone knows Milly.”

Something in his voice made me bristle. Sure, Milly was a bit on the boy crazy side, but she was only seventeen. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him, and then remembered I was supposed to be playing nice. Softening my eyes and my voice, I did my best to sound sweet.

“Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to give me a ride. I can pay for the gas, but it’s kinda urgent.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You need a ride somewhere? Where’s Giselle?”

“She’s out of town this weekend.”

With a slow, perusing affect, he stared at my face. Maybe he wondered if I was lying.

Or maybe he was checking me out. I was hoping for the latter.

I’m not proud to admit that I blushed, seriously badly blushed, felt the heat all the way from my toes to the top of my head. Forcing the words out, I’m proud to say I didn’t lie. “Yeah. I have a friend who’s in a bit of trouble and I need to get to him as soon as possible.”

Caleb frowned and bent to polish a spot on his bike that I was pretty sure didn’t need it. “Sorry. I don’t do the whole taxi thing. Not even for a pretty girl.”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars when it’s all said and done.” The words burst out of me and I hoped I was right. That I’d have a thousand dollars to give him. It was only after I said it that I realized he’d called me pretty.

He stood back and eyed me up and down, as if suddenly I had his interest, even if it was just for the cash. “You don’t have that kind of money.”

The truth of his interest stung. “My friend has that kind of money. You don’t even have to stay with me, just drop me off and then you can come home, and I’ll get you your fucking money when I get back.”

His eyes popped wide when I said ‘fucking’, and I took careful note to try not to curse around him. Some people couldn’t handle my mouth, but I couldn’t help it. The words just kinda spilled out of me. My mouth had gotten even worse since I’d discovered my ability to Track.

Caleb’s eyes traveled up and down my legs and I realized he 
was
 checking me out. “How far away is your friend? For a thousand dollars, he isn’t the next county over.”

Hmm. Pretty and smart. Gotta like that in a man.

Get a hold of yourself, Rylee! He was just pissing you off!

“Southwest. He’s a ways out there.” I really wished my Tracking ability could give me more than that, but it was vague, the directions only becoming clearer as I got closer to the kid. “I’m guessing a day’s drive one way.”

Please let me be right about that.

“You’ll pay for the gas?”

I nodded, hope blooming. “And an extra thousand when I get back, like I said.”

His lips curled upward into that heart-stopping smile I’d only ever caught on the peripheral. He reached out and tugged a strand of my long, auburn hair forward. “You are intriguing, Milly’s sister. Very different from her. Just as pretty, but a tad bit on the tough side.” That last bit was under his breath and I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear him, so I ignored it.

I swallowed hard. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“A damsel in distress, a mystery to unravel, a road trip on a beautiful summer weekend. Sounds like fun.” Laughing, he picked up his shirt and slid it over his head. For a moment, I was disappointed, but then recalled this was not a romantic trip. Nope.

This was work.

And I had a kid to save.

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