Evading The Tempest (Tempest tales Book 1)

by Sandra Elsa

  "We talked about this. There's only one way you've been getting in and out of the districts unnoticed and you've promised to stop using that. Do you have to argue with me about everything?"

  "I'm sorry, Frankie. It's habit." He paused, eyes wide he whipped his head around to where I stood. "Not arguing with you. Being in charge."

  Herm laughed. Not his simple enthusiastic chuckle, but a heaving of his somewhat soft, shopkeeper's gut. "You hired her, boy. You'd do well to let her be in charge without argument. Our girl may just kick you in the jewels if you antagonize her too bad. Have to charge you a thousand for the ident kit, Frankie. There's been a lot of close scrutiny the last week or so. Gotta cover my risk."

  "I kind of expected the price would be up right now, I included it in his bill."

  "All right then, let's sit him down and get his picture. What color is his hair going to be?"

  I looked back at Harrison. I actually liked the blond, but Herm was right, that moon-spun gold was noticeable. "What color do you favor?" I asked Harrison.

  "It won't change."

  "Whaddya mean it won't change?"

  Herm stared at Harrison, assessing. Deciding his risk, he said, "He means he's a mage, Frankie. The energy of a mage doesn't abide unnatural changes to the physical body. Probably an age old protection to keep them all from turning each other into frogs."

  "Color me impressed Herm. I didn't know that and you know I've made a study of the freaks."

  "So what are you doing taking one on as a client?"

  "Struggling against my common sense. And it's an uphill battle, but he's convinced me he might be worth saving."

  With a look of misgiving, Herm said, "If you say so, Frankie. Let's braid that hair back and tuck it away for the Ident photo anyway." He pointed at a chair. "Sit, young man."

  Harrison sat in the chair at the back of the store where Herm indicated and took off his cap. I stepped behind him and braided his hair tightly. It was thick and I probably shouldn't have liked running my fingers through it quite as much as I did. The sides were shorter than the back and I ended up having to french braid them to get them out of view, then I worked them into a single braid down his back. The braid was nearly eighteen inches long when I finished. "Not many men wear their hair this long. Would you consider cutting it?"

  "If you insist. I prefer not to."

  "Let me guess, magic wants you to have long hair?"

  He grinned, "Women like the way it feels."

  Had to give him that point. My face heated as I imagined lying underneath him with that silken fall brushing my skin. I was glad I was standing behind him. "Well, we wouldn't want to disappoint any of your groupies. But while you're in my care it will stay braided, which shouldn't be a problem as you're currently facing a dearth of female companionship that gives a shit one way or the other." I removed Harrison's sunglasses.

  Herm finished adjusting the camera. He looked up and asked, "What'd you do get in a fight with a cat?"

  "Jumped through a window."

  Herm smiled. "Husband come home early? It's generally a better idea to open the window first."

  "Now you tell me." Harrison returned Herm's easy banter.

  Herm strode over and tilted Harrison's chin up just a bit, then stopped and ran a finger across his cheek bones, a thoughtful look entered his eyes.

  "Something wrong, Herm?"

  "What are we doing here, Frankie?"

  "Helping a man who wants to be free of oppressive relatives."

  "Is he worth the risk? There's nowhere he can hide forever."

  "You know who he is, then?"

  "Precisely...no. But he looks too much like the president to be anything but a relative, and the heat coming down on forged documents is too much for anything less than a high-and-mighty to be involved."

  "The plan is still coming together in my mind, but he's paid for a week of my time. So a week he will have."

  He stared at Harrison a moment longer. "Mind signing an oath against revealing where these documents came from."

  "If that's what you need."

  "In blood. That's what I'll need."

  Harrison nodded as though that was a perfectly normal request.

  Herm got out a sheet of paper and wrote on it. He handed the paper to Harrison who drew a small pocket knife out of his jeans and sliced the tip of one of his fingers. He squeezed several drops of blood onto the paper then took the stylus Herm handed him and scrawled his name through the blood. I was glad his last name wasn't Drover.

  Herm picked up the paper and waved it to dry the blood. "Now I'll need to see your real ident." Harrison handed it to him and Herm compared the signatures, then handed it back. He went behind his register and pulled out a brass bowl, ripped the paper into it, added several pungent herbs and burned the whole mess.

  Harrison never once cracked a smile at the silly old man trying to bind a mage to secrecy, so I assumed Herm did in fact know what he was doing.

  Herm looked up from his smoldering bowl with a smile. "All right then, young Daniel Bromer needs a new ident.

  The bell over the front door rang and Carla emerged from a back room as Herm checked the mirror to see who had entered and sealed the curtains around the corner we occupied. Fifteen minutes later we were back in my car.

  "Where would you like me to drop you?"

  "Not sure. What is there to do that's not on the list of things I shouldn't do?"

  "District Forty-five is filled with thespians. There's always a play or two going on there. Your mother said you liked tri-D I assume she'd have mentioned it if you frequented open theatres."

  "Not something I ever did before. Sounds interesting."

  "Good. Forty-five is on my way to Eighty-six."

  "What's in Eighty-six?"

  "Whole lot of nothing. It's a hunting preserve. I can sit at the source and watch anybody who enters."

  "Father will appreciate the choice."

  "It also has a suppression generator to prevent magical poaching."

  A smile lit his face. "It's things like that, I need to know."

  "I realize that. And that's precisely the kind of information you've paid me for, but I need to get this afternoon over with first. If I get back to my apartment in one piece we'll start your 'how-to-survive-in-the-real-world education."

  I dropped him off in Forty-five with the pizza tucked under his arm. He reached over and grabbed my hand. "Be careful, Frankie. Like I said, sacrifice me if you feel there's no other way through this meeting."

  "I have no intention of sacrificing either of us. I'll see you back at my apartment tonight." I was glad he couldn't see how scared I was.

  Chapter 13

  Harrison climbed out of the car and I turned back toward the desolate road leading away from the cluster of occupied domes. Outside forty-five's dome I called Wally.

  It rang three times before he answered it with a brisk, officious tone. "Sergeant Wallin."

  "Sergeant. This is Francesca Leone, if the individual who wished to see me still desires a meet, I suggest you get in your Hummer and drive toward District Fifty-five."

  "Frankie, not even you could want a meet in Fifty-five."

  "I didn't say drive to Fifty-five, I said toward. I'll call you back in half an hour; let you know where to go from there. And if anybody's following you, the whole thing's off."

  "We shall be there, Miss Leone." Kinda figured he'd be listening.

  Twenty-five minutes later, I passed Fifty-five. The garish white blemish which ran from zenith to within twenty feet of the ground stood out like a patch of snow against the mountains beside it. Hundreds of years ago a rock slide on the mountain shattered the dome. Half the population had been lost to the influx of toxic atmosphere. The other half had gotten to air recyclers in time to save their lives. The dome had been patched before the source evaporated, but only desperate people lived there now. Nobody wanted to chance another rockslide, or a breach of the patch. Although if Harrison hadn't lied, a breach
might no longer be fatal.

  I drove by it, staring at the antique brick buildings. The inside of the dome still showed scarring from where the sand and dust had been driven against it by the vortex caused by the breach. I shuddered and hurried on my way. Picking up the phone, I called Wally. The moment it stopped ringing I said, "Where you at, Wally?"

  "We are just passing district Forty-one, Miss Leone," Shivers raced down my spine at the cultured voice with a goodly dose of persuasion woven in it. "Why don't we just stop here? You can return to us."

  I chuckled as I heard a muffled, "Not you, Sergeant, keep driving."

  "I'll see you in district Eighty-six, Sir."

  "Eighty-six it is, Miss Leone." Frustration edged his voice. Not used to being refused.

  At the gate to Eighty-six's dome, I stopped to show my ident and my hunting license. The picket waved me through with a cheerful, "Good-luck, Miss Leone."

  I parked in the lot just inside the gate, lifted the carpet in the trunk, took out my bow, a quiver of arrows and a pair of binoculars. It'd been a long time since I’d been hunting. Some venison would be a tasty treat after this day. Even if the deer were no more than the size of a greyhound.

  I tossed a mobile dampening field on the front seat of my car and hung an amber pendant, charmed to prevent magic from affecting its wearer, around my neck. Both were expensive trinkets, and black market, but the time had come for their sacrifice. With the props in place, I slung the weapon across my back and strode from the lot with a purpose. Once out of sight of the picket I began running. I needed to get to the top of the mountains that surrounded the source before Wally and friends arrived.

  Weaving in and out of dense trees, I slid on half rotted organic matter as I descended a slight valley, twisting my ankle. With grim determination I stood and hobbled on. I hadn't made it halfway up the slope and was still surrounded by trees when my phone rang. Wally's voice comforted part of my anxiety. "We've just come through the gate, Frankie. Where are we going?"

  I was currently climbing up a slope filled with soccer-ball sized boulders and I grunted as I fell, twisting my ankle yet again, cussing in pain at the audible snap. I blinked away tears as I told Wally. "I'll get back to you in a few minutes."

  "Frankie...are you all right?"

  "No, god-damn it, bring your first-aid kit. Make sure you have a wrap. I think I just broke my ankle. Fuck a mage." I crawled the rest of the way up the slope, turning to search the parking lot with the binoculars as soon as I was over the canopies of the trees and could see back toward the gate. The Hummer sat parked alongside my toad-green Celica, dwarfing it. The prez clearly hadn't prepared for a trip to the outback. He was in the process of putting the jacket of a gray suit in the back seat of the Hummer. He added his tie to the pile and unbuttoned the top two or three buttons of his white shirt.

  Wally and Rollick wore their uniforms. Moving to the rear of the vehicle, they took out hiking boots. The good trooper was ready for anything. Wally offered his boots to the president, but they were either the wrong size or the prez was counting on magic to float him over the rough terrain. I trained the glasses outside the gate. No other vehicles were visible through the tinted dome. The president turned to my vehicle.

  I'd left it unlocked so they wouldn't feel the need to break the windows. He stretched in the door and picked up the device I'd left for him to find. He turned around and tossed it to Rollick, who put it in the back of the Hummer. Then turned and went through my car more thoroughly, but there was nothing else illegal for him to find, unless he reached up in the springs under the front seat.

  When he stopped, I called Wally again. "Look up."

  I watched him raise binoculars to the rugged slope. He swept back and forth several times before zeroing in on me. "We'll be there shortly, Frankie. Don't climb any higher if you think your ankle's broken."

  "I'll meet you at the top, Wally."

  He grabbed the first-aid kit and strode to the path leaving the parking lot, belatedly remembering he was supposed to be guarding the president. I struggled the remaining distance allowing the tears to fall as I jarred my ankle over the rough boulders. At the top, I unslung my bow and leaned my back against the dome's suppression generator. Removing my shoe revealed a swelling purple mess where my ankle used to be. Should have given myself more time. It throbbed in time with the gentle pulses of the generator behind my back.

  I forced my mind to shut away the pain and stay sharp. They had disappeared into the forest. It was tempting to slide down the far slope to soak my ankle in the cool water of the source, but that would defeat the purpose of climbing up to the generator.

  Forty-five minutes later, I picked them out crossing the boulder field where I'd called from. The president was red in the face and appeared to be swearing. They looked up as they left the tree-line behind. Wally picked me out immediately; his expression was less than pleased. They finished the walk and Wally stood in front of me, hands folded behind his back. I looked up at him and forced a grin to my face. "You don't look happy to see me, Wally. Does this mean dinner's off?"

  "What was the point of making us climb a mountain?"

  "Who are you with, Wally?"

  Even while berating me, he kneeled down and gently prodded my ankle. "The most important man in the world, Frankie. And you have us out traipsing through wilderness."

  "I don't really give a shit how important he is, Wally. It's what he is that brings us here. I patted the metal casing on the generator. "It was the only place I could come up with, where I knew I couldn't be coerced into doing things I didn't want to do."

  "The generator blankets the entire dome."

  "I thought about that. I also thought about a mage being powerful enough to persuade every living person in the world to vote for him. Figured my best bet would be sitting right on top of the damn thing, but I can't jump up there now so I'll settle for leaning against it."

  The president's scowl faded. I wasn't sure what that portended. Did he appreciate somebody challenging him, or did he enjoy the fact I was afraid of him? "So tell me, Miss Leone. Did you vote for me?"

  "I never vote. Got no truck with politics."

  "Then not every person voted for me."

  "Nobody voted against you." I shot straight upright as Wally shifted my ankle. If he hadn't been holding my injured foot I'd have kicked him in the face. "Goddamn-motherfucker, that hurt, Wally."

  "Did you feel the bone shift? Looks like you were right. It's broken."

  The pain still shooting up my leg made thinking impossible. Panting I swatted at his hands. "Let me just finish my conversation before you do that again or I might pass out." I looked over at the man wearing gray slacks and a white shirt with sweat stains down the sides. I wondered if it was the first time in his life he'd sweated. "Before we get off on another round of let's bitch at Frankie, you requested this meeting, Sir. Here I am and here you are, though why I needed to tell you no in person is beyond me. I'm sure every and any, body you've talked to has informed you, I don't work for mages."

  "So it would seem, Miss Leone. You do however work for the parents of missing children."

  "Not when one of them is a mage and the child is thirty-three years old."

  "He's never been outside District Seven for more than a couple hours at a time. He's already clashed with a siphon. He'll get himself killed. I found his cousin in the hospital this morning, nearly dead. Didn't even know his own name."

  "I'm aware of the cousin. The eyes were something of a giveaway, but it wasn't your son lying there nearly dead. In fact your son seems to be doing fairly well for himself."

  "How would you know that, Miss Leone?"

  I glanced at Rollick and Wally. "Do guys mind backing out of hearing?"

  They looked at President Drover. He nodded.

  I knew Rollick could still hear me, but given distance they could pretend they didn't know the president's son had killed someone. When they stopped walking, I said, "Your son contacted me today.
Told me he hadn't planned on staying gone. But it was Harrison that broke out the window on the room of doom. The concussion from his spell killed Mr. Ludovissy so he was afraid of being tried as a murderer. I told him it would be self-defense and probably wouldn't even make the newspapers, much less the court system. Tried to convince him he should just go home, but he said he couldn't. Having figured out that he could survive outside his home district has rather gone to his head. He's enjoying his freedom."

  The scowl returned. "He got lucky! Once. What's he going to do next time, and why did he come to you?"

  "He wanted to hire me to teach him how to get by in the outside world."

  "And you told him?"

  "Same thing I'm telling you. I don't work for mages." God I wished that was true. "Besides I didn't figure he'd have access to his money and I'd have to charge at least three thousand a day for something like that."

  "Now there's a motivation I can understand." He waved Wally and Rollick back over. "I'm prepared to offer you five thousand a day until we retrieve him."

  "I'm afraid I'm not likely to see him again, Sir. You may have noticed, I don't care for mages, and I don't bother to hide that feeling. He seemed a bit more sensitive to my kind and understanding words than you. I believe I may have hurt his feelings. While attempting to decide whether or not to accept you as a client, I called his mother, from the number on the missing notice. I assume you've passed on the list of hobbies, and likes and all that, so the watch will be observing sources, checking downloads for his favorite authors, patrolling tri-D's. So what would be the point of paying me five-thousand dollars a day when all the bases are already covered?"

  "You make a valid argument, Miss Leone."

  "But?"

  "He came to you once, why is that?"

  "If I had to guess, I'd say I'm his type. He saw me in Eleven, asked my friends who I was and apparently while disappointed I wasn't a hooker, he concocted a scheme to spend time with me...which worked about as well as making a balloon of lead."

  "That sounds all too believable. Harrison does like his women. If he got up the nerve to approach you, his little episode in District Eleven must have inflated his self-opinion. As you've noted, he is sensitive. Somebody that bristles like a hedgehog simply because he is as he was born, is not someone he'd have had the nerve to approach three weeks ago."