Copper Girl (6 page)

Since it had worked once before, I opened my bedroom window, hoping that Micah would somehow find his way inside. After a moment’s hesitation, I placed the cuff on the sill, and then lay down on my bed for a short nap. As I drifted off, I wondered if Micah would come to me as a dream, or in the flesh.
Flesh. Hopefully, flesh
.

When I woke, my first thought was to wonder why my alarm hadn’t gone off. Slowly, my muddy brain remembered that I hadn’t set it. I had assumed Micah would wake me once he got here, and I hadn’t intended to sleep all night. Well, morning light was streaming into the room, though a quick glance at the clock told me that it was still a bit too early to get up for work. I sighed, assuming that displaying a copper cuff on the windowsill wasn’t the proper way to call a silver elf, and moved to shut the window. When I saw the empty sill, I froze.

The cuff was gone.

My eyes flew to the floor below the window, but the cuff wasn’t there. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled under my bed, then looked in my closet and in my dresser drawers; I even went so far as to look under the couch in the living room. No cuff. I went to the kitchen and picked through the leavings from its creation yesterday; there was nothing but the leftover bits of wire.

I ran out of my apartment, down the stairs, and to the alley outside my window, in case the cuff had fallen outside. The asphalt was pristinely scrubbed, which made it easy to see that the cuff wasn’t on the sidewalk, nor in the road, nor had it rolled under the communal dumpster. Briefly, I wondered if it had been stolen, when a cold knot formed in my stomach. I’d gone to bed after curfew, which meant that only drones had been left patrolling the streets. A dumb robot would have no more use for a piece of jewelry than a kitten.

The cuff was gone, and Micah wasn’t here.

I ran back to my apartment, snatched my keys, and flew back out the door, a hundred scenarios playing across my mind, each worse than the last. Mom was convinced that the three of us were constantly being watched, but Sadie and I had always told her she was paranoid. But the drones…

The drones, motorized robots that hovered about on the pretense of safety, patrolled all public areas during the day, but they came out in force after curfew. Even Peacekeepers weren’t allowed outside after curfew fell, unless they were apprehending some ne’er-do-well. The drones were theoretically harmless, being that they supposedly didn’t carry any weaponry, but they all carried cameras and voice recorders in order to document and punish the guilty. What if one had happened by my window just as Micah had arrived? What if there was an official government document of an elf hopping through my bedroom window? Would the Peacekeepers punish only me, or Mom and Sadie, too?

What if they’d taken Micah, just like they’d taken Max?

I clutched the wheel, white-knuckled, as my car careened across town. The rational part of my mind was somewhat amazed I wasn’t stopped for speeding, or reckless driving, or operating a mechanical under the influence of magic. When I turned onto Real Estate Row, the street REES was located on, I almost had a heart attack.

There was a full squadron of Peacekeepers blocking the street.

I skidded to a halt, since mowing down the men with guns would not improve my situation in the slightest. While I tried to get my breathing under control, I searched for a way around them. The sidewalks were blocked too, and I saw a separate squad in my rearview mirror blocking off the adjoining street. For a moment, I entertained the notion of leaving the car and making a run for the Otherworld, but then I noticed the drones overhead. Like a swarm of metal mosquitos, they buzzed away, recording everything with their state of the art surveillance equipment.

Yeah. I wasn’t going anywhere.

And a Peacekeeper was walking toward me.

They know! They have Micah, and now they’re here for me!
Sweat bloomed across my back and neck, and my stomach plummeted to the floorboards. Why else would they be here, if not to apprehend me? Why would a
full squadron
of Peacekeepers be blocking the entrance to my employer, unless they were lying in wait to capture me?

The tiny, rational voice in the back of my head said that I was freaking out over nothing. If the Peacekeepers had wanted me, they would have barged into my apartment and taken me from my bed. They wouldn’t have let me have access to my car, with which I could potentially make my escape. Unless they wanted to hunt me down…

No, no, that would be silly. That would be a waste of resources. Still, they were here, and Micah wasn’t in my room when I woke, and…and…

Gods. I hoped Micah was okay.

Finally, the Peacekeeper reached my car. Being the dutiful citizen that I am, I promptly rolled down my window and handed over my paperwork.

“What’s your name?” he asked, even though it was printed on the card in front of him.

“Sara Corbeau.”

“What’s the E. stand for?”

Oh, so he can read. “Elizabeth.”

“Is that your mother’s name?”

Yeah, that’s also listed on the card. “No. Her name is Maeve Connor Corbeau. I don’t know how she came up with Elizabeth.”

The goon smiled at that. “I feel ya. My middle name’s pretty horrible.” He lowered his sunglasses, and met my eyes. “Jerome.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“That’s not my middle name. You need to earn that.” Then the creep winked at me. All at once, I was shocked, disgusted, and scared in a whole new way. My emotions must have been plain, because Jerome straightened up and handed me back my identification.

“You came around that corner pretty fast, Sara,” he stated.

“I know. I’m sorry about that.” He looked at me expectantly, so I elaborated, “I work right over there, at Real Estate Evaluation Services. I wanted to get in early, for overtime. The end of the month’s coming, you know.”

Peacekeeper Jerome nodded at that. The last day of the month was when our tax payments were due, and everyone paid the same amount, regardless of their income. Yeah, it was unfair to make the poor pay the same price as the rich, but the government did not see it that way. After all, we all had access to the same government services, so shouldn’t we all pay the same share? So, in the name of fairness, we all scrambled to work as much as possible to make these unwieldy payments by the end of the month, and were dirt poor the following week, or at least until our next paychecks came in.

From the set of Jerome’s jaw, I guessed that Peacekeepers were not exempt from taxes, either. He leaned closer, whether to share financial advice or hit on me further I couldn’t tell, but he was interrupted by a commotion down the street. A man I vaguely recognized as working at one of the other real estate firms was being forcibly escorted to a waiting transport. The side of his face was bruised, and he was bleeding pretty badly from the shoulder.

“W-what did he do?” I asked.

“Something he shouldn’t have,” Jerome replied. He stepped away as a second Peacekeeper approached, and briefed him on the capture. It seemed that the prisoner in question, one Malcolm Hernandez, had been selling charms. They didn’t know how long it had been going on, but being that he’d gotten bold enough to sell them in the office cafeteria, Jerome said that they were going to assume that the illegal activity had gone on for over five years, and their commander would recommend the maximum sentence. Death.

The second Peacekeeper went off to relay Jerome’s orders, and Jerome sauntered back to me. “We’ll have all this cleaned up in no time,” he murmured, leaning on my door. “I won’t keep you from work much longer, little lady.”

Really? Little lady? I forced a smile and hoped Jerome would think I was nervous rather than disgusted. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“So, what time do you get off?”

“Eight,” I lied. My workday ends at five, and I hardly ever stay for overtime. I wouldn’t want happy hour to think I didn’t love it anymore.

“That’s an awfully long day.”

“Overtime, you know,” I said quickly. “Taxes and all.”

“Well, maybe I’ll swing by around then,” Jerome suggested. I smiled a bit wider, so much so that my cheeks ached. Thankfully, another Peacekeeper shouted to Jerome that they were ready to transport the prisoner. “Till then,” he said, patting the hood of my car.

“Till then,” I echoed. I kept the ridiculous clown smile plastered across my face as they drove off, Jerome waving and nudging his buddies. Once they were out of sight I exhaled heavily and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. First, I was going to wash his slimy handprints off my car. Second, I was never, ever going to get to work until eight ever again, overtime be damned. It wasn’t like I needed the money, anyway, and—

And my token chose that moment to fall out of my shirt, reminding me why I was here so early in the first place.

I started the car, threw it into gear, and practically flew down the street toward REES. I pulled into the parking lot so fast I caught air on the speed bumps, and then screeched to a halt in my usual spot before the Lovers’ Pine. I was so rattled it took me three tries to cross into the Otherworld; for a moment, I didn’t realize I’d made the jump. It appeared as serene as it had yesterday when Micah had offered me his token, tranquil and lovely and totally at odds with my frazzled state. Clutching the silver token, I ran toward Micah’s home, shouting his name.

Suddenly, he was there. “My Sara,” Micah called in greeting, then looked me over from head to foot. “Again, you’ve come to me dressed like a man.” Speechless, I looked down at my jeans. Here I was, terrified for his safety, and all he could say was that I was wearing pants?

“Where have you been?” I yelled. Micah, wearing his usual buff leather gear and a slightly bemused expression, was obviously fine. I, however, had by now well and truly lost it.

“Here,” he replied. “Should I be elsewhere?”

Now that I was certain of his safety, I really wanted to beat him. “I thought you’d been captured!”

Micah cocked his head to the side, as if capture was an utterly foreign concept here in the Otherworld. “Who would attempt to capture me?”

“Anyone!” I shrieked. “Peacekeepers, spies, someone who thought they could cut your ears off and sell them at the goddamned Promenade!” His eyes widened at that last bit, and he absently touched his ears. As he did, his sleeve slipped, and I saw the copper cuff about his wrist. Faltering, I stammered, “You’re wearing it?”

“Is it not for me?” he asked.

“It is. I…” I turned away and covered my face with my hands. Micah was obviously fine, and I’d freaked out over nothing. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I whispered. “Or… or dreamwalk to me?”

“You looked so exhausted. I couldn’t bear to disturb you.” Then Micah’s hands were on my shoulders, and I leaned against him. He was warm. Solid. Safe. “Forgive me, my Sara. I meant no offense.”

“You didn’t
offend
. It’s just…” I gulped some air, and started again. “They took Max.”

“Max?”

“My brother. They just took him.” Micah shifted so we faced each other and wrapped his arms around me, and for a moment I just enjoyed being in his arms. Never mind that I’d known him for less than a week, or that his presence in my life only meant danger. I’d never been as happy and relieved as I was in that moment, knowing that the Peacekeepers hadn’t taken him.

“Come,” he said suddenly, drawing me lower into the valley. When I asked where he was taking me, he replied, “To my home.”

“I need to get to work,” I protested. Everyone at Real Estate Evaluation Services started their workday promptly at nine, lunched at noon, and left at five. It was much easier for the drones to keep track of everyone if we all kept the same basic schedule and, since overtime hours were input to an official database, there were no stragglers. This also meant that, if I showed up more than ten minutes late, there would be an official report. More than four hours late meant my job would be forfeit.

“No,” Micah said, firmly. “Not until you have told me all you know of those who have taken your brother, who may also attack me.”

“They’ve taken others,” I mumbled. Micah’s only response was to squeeze my hand, but it was enough.

It was only a short walk across the dell to Micah’s little castle. ‘Castle’ really wasn’t the proper term for his home, but it was full of turrets and arched windows, and I couldn’t bring myself to call such a grand structure a house. It was so much, much more than what that simple word conveyed. But then, it did not have a drawbridge, and thus no moat and no moat monster. Pity.

As we approached, I caught sight of two figures lurking on the far ridge. I was still pretty shaken up from my run-in with Peacekeeper Jerome, and my first thought was that they were an Otherworldly police force. “Who are they?”

“Iron warriors,” Micah replied.

“Will they…is it safe for them to be here?”

Micah tightened his arm about my shoulders. “Of course,” he murmured. “I would never let anything harm you, my Sara.”

Gods. I hope he means that
.

The whole of Micah’s home was a reflective gray, oddly bluish in the morning light, and as we drew nearer I finally appreciated the beauty of the silver structure. I suppose it was only natural for Micah Silverstrand to reside in a silver abode, but I was awed nonetheless. The metal walls and roof were brushed in offsetting squares, mimicking shingles. It was pristinely maintained, save for a bit of tarnish close to the ground, but that was only on the exterior. Inside, the walls gleamed as though they had just been polished. To spare our eyes, the glare of the white metal was offset by many thick rugs in claret and burgundy hues, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries.