Project Elfhome

by Wen Spencer

  She had had sex with all of her other johns in their cars and back alleys. She’d never brought any of them home. What did he think? She nervously put her keys on the counter and turned to Forest Moss.

  He was still staring at her as if she was the only thing in the universe.

  Her purse was heavy with the elf bullion. It thumped when she put it down on her battered table. He’d given her more than enough money to survive.

  It was time for her to keep her part of the deal.

  She turned off the light and stepped into his arms.

  * * *

  Peanut was right.

  Elves were damn good at sex.

  After six months of marriage and weeks of turning tricks, Olivia thought she knew everything about sex. The orgasm took her by surprise. She felt the familiar flutter of pleasure that she normally felt but then it grew and grew and then went stomach-flexing, bolt-of-lightning good with all sorts of little aftershocks and jolts.

  Not to say that she didn’t know what she’d just experienced. She’d watched every man that had ever been with her ride through the whole show. To finally know how good they’d felt every time made her feel used and cast aside like a condom. The injustice of it filled her with rage at the entire gender and she smacked Forest Moss.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to explain how screwed she’d been to have been born a human female. “If my johns are feeling that great, I don’t charge enough.”

  “I don’t understand.” The shadows hid his ruined eye. In the dim light, he was as beautiful as any other elf. There was a glimmer on his cheek. When she touched his face, she realized he was crying.

  “You did nothing wrong,” she reassured him.

  * * *

  He whimpered like a puppy as he slept, curled around her. In the morning, he wanted to stay naked, stay in bed, stay skin to skin. Since the baby books said that getting up slowly helped prevent morning sickness, she lay with him, embarrassed by the sunlight pouring through the windows, leaving her no place to hide.

  At least Forest Moss was gentle with her. Troy had been all impatience and hardness, leaving bruises as he took his pleasure. Everyone from her older sister-wives to her mother all told her to be silent and endure it. A man’s right to his wife. The men in the alleys and the cars had been no different.

  Forest Moss seemed content to just lie in the warm sunlight, wrapped around her, so close they seemed to share the same breath. She had never experienced so much intimacy. Troy had six wives before her. He came to her Friday nights, took his pleasure and hogged most of the bed, stealing the blankets. It was so much rutting in the dark.

  Forest Moss seemed to want to see every little part of her. He held her hands, one at a time, up to the light.

  “So small,” he murmured. “Like Wolf’s child bride.”

  She blushed. “I’m much taller than her.”

  He considered her, smiling gently. “Yes, you are right. You are older?”

  Her blush deepened. “I need to eat.”

  Another key thing that the baby books said would prevent morning sickness was to eat many small protein-rich meals.

  With Forest Moss hovering nearly close enough to touch, she scrambled up her last eggs. He frowned at the nearly empty fridge and then opened the cabinets that she had nothing to put into. When she tried to share the food with him, he refused it.

  “I’ve been living fat on the Wind Clan coin.” He pushed the plate toward her. “A week’s worth of missed meals would not hurt me.”

  Troy was always served first and given the best cuts of meat. It made her eyes burn with long-held, previously unshed tears.

  “The coins you gave me,” she approached the subject tentatively. Money was normally the domain of men. “Is it all you have?”

  Worry filled his one good eye. “For now. I have land that the Wind Clan paid as restitution for my fighting. I will receive funds from our clan when we establish our household here.”

  Our clan. Our household.

  “Where is this land?”

  “I—I’m not sure. I did not have the means to clear it and build anything, so I did not bother to view it.”

  She had read in the paper something about the division of land. She pulled out all the newspapers since the Stone Clan’s arrival a few weeks back. She found the story that ran last week. The accompanying map showed how the land was divided up. The size of the parcel took her breath away. It could have swallowed up the Zion ranch in Kansas a hundred times over. It was, however, all virgin forest. It afforded no shelter from winter and certainly nothing to eat except squirrels and deer.

  They would need to stay here at her place until spring. At that point, if the war was over, they could hire someone to cut and lumber. There were most likely abandoned houses near that area they could squat in until they had money enough to build something like a small farm.

  She realized then that for the first time in weeks, she felt like she was going to live to see spring.

  He pulled her close and after a moment she relaxed against him and let herself feel the comfort of no longer being alone.

  “I have prayed so long for you,” he whispered.

  She laughed into his shoulder. “Someone like me. Any girl would have done.”

  “You alone had the courage to face my demons and quiet them.”

  She wished she could believe him. She knew that any number of women in Pittsburgh would have eventually set their sights on him. She was fortunate that she was the first to hear of his plan to take a human partner.

  When she sighed, her breath caused fine white dust to drift from his hair.

  “You need to wash your hair,” she said.

  “A bath! Yes! Certainly!” But when she showed him the shower, he frowned at it for several minutes. “This is not a bath.”

  “You just stand here, water comes out from this part, you adjust the heat of the water with these knobs…” She fell silent as he continued to look confused and unsure. Did the elves not have running water?

  As she fussed with the shower, she glanced at the mirror and froze in surprise. Almost hidden under her bangs was a small black diamond. It looked like the blue triangle Tinker had in the one slickie photo of her entering the Rolls Royce. Olivia rubbed at black spot and then used soap and water. It didn’t come off; it seemed tattooed into place.

  “Did you do this to me?” she asked Forest Moss.

  He cringed back at her tone. “It is the custom. The dau tells others that you’ve accepted my offer and that you’re my domi.”

  “So, it won’t come off?”

  Alarm filled his face and he looked ready to cry. “No.”

  “I don’t want it off.” She stopped trying to wash it away as it was obviously distressing him. In some ways he was like a child. It was good that she loved children. Maybe she was exactly the type of human woman he did need. She cautiously asked, “When did you do it?”

  “Last night. It is a simple spell.”

  * * *

  For part of the shower, he remained childlike, letting her wash his long silky white hair. And then he turned, and suddenly was all male, and proved yet again that Peanut was right about elves. It was embarrassing how the much the tiles in the bathroom amplified her cries right up to the point she couldn’t think of anything but the pleasure jolting through her. Afterward there was something pure in relaxing in his arms as the warm water beaded down over them.

  * * *

  She woke late that night with someone tapping her palm. A strange male elf crouched beside the futon, a spell light cupped in his hand. He put his finger to his lips, indicating that she should stay silent. She jerked back in fear. Forest Moss was wrapped tight around her, still asleep. The stranger frowned at her and shook his head silently to rebuke her.

  As she grabbed at the sheets, she realized that he wore the red scale vest armor and arm tattoos of a Wyvern. Nor was he alone. There were four more Wyverns in her kitchen, a
ll watching silently.

  Her breath caught in her chest and she leaned back against Forest Moss.

  The crouching Wyvern looked at her sternly and crooked his finger in a universal “Come here.”

  Piss the Wyvern off or leave the protection that Forest Moss may or may not provide her? Why were they here? Why did they want her to leave Forest Moss? The Wyverns could and would kill anyone they wanted. So far their kind had killed one of the elf lords, a Pittsburgh policeman and dozens of people that may have been oni or humans.

  And the Wyverns were now frowning at her and repeating the “come here” motion.

  If she hid behind Forest Moss, and he came to her defense, would the Wyverns kill him out of hand? They had killed his clansman, Earth Son. If she wanted his help, then she had to protect him.

  She nodded reluctantly and started to extract herself without waking Forest Moss. He lay with his ruined eye pressed against the pillow, leaving only his beauty heartrendingly vulnerable.

  As she slid forward, the Wyvern didn’t reach for her but started to step back, giving her room. His eyes went suddenly wide and he threw up his hands to protect his head and a moment later, the room exploded.

  Forest Moss was awake, howling wordlessly. He gestured and another explosion blew out the far wall. The Wyverns went flying backwards, vanishing into the rubble.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia cried. She wasn’t sure how he was doing it but he was going to bring the house down on top of them. “Stop it!”

  “No!” Forest Moss shouted. “I won’t let them take you away. I won’t! I won’t!”

  There was a loud groaning complaint as the room lurched.

  She caught Forest Moss by his hair and dragged him backward through the dining room and out the front door and onto the sidewalk. He howled the entire way like a dog caught in a bear trap, a sound of pure bestial pain.

  “Stop. Stop!” She put hands on either side of his head and tilted his head until he was staring into her eyes. “Look at me! No one will take me away. I won’t let them. I choose where I go and I’m not leaving you. Now calm down.”

  Brave words. Truth was, she was scared shitless. Had he killed the Wyverns? Obviously they had known he could blast the shit out of everything and had been trying to defuse him. Why hadn’t they brought drugs and a straightjacket? Because those things would have made him even harder to handle?

  She wrapped her arms around Forest Moss and crooned to him, trying to get him to calm down. She wanted to ask him a million questions but she was afraid he’d lose it completely if she pushed for answers now.

  The Wyvern that woke her appeared at the corner of her leaning house, seemingly unharmed. She wasn’t sure how he survived the blast.

  She tightened her hold on Forest Moss. “What do you want? You don’t break into someone’s house in the middle of the night and drag them out of bed.”

  “Who are you?” The Wyvern watched Forest Moss carefully.

  “I’m his domi!” She pushed back her bangs to show him the dau on her forehead. “And you’re not separating us. Just deal with us both.”

  The warrior stared silently at her as if weighing his options and then he nodded. “Very well, but you must come with us.”

  “Without clothes?” Olivia realized that she’d left her purse with the bullion lying by their bed. In her panic, she’d saved Forest Moss but not the money that would keep them both alive through the winter. “All our belongings are still in the house. We can’t just leave them.”

  The Wyvern shook his head. “It is not safe for you to return to the house.”

  Olivia growled out the one Elvish curse she knew, making his eyes go wide. “You destroyed the only place we had to live and now you’re going to steal everything we own? Leave us naked?”

  He looked anyplace but her face as he considered her charge. In the end he slowly nodded. “We will do what we can to salvage your belongings. Keep him here. Keep him calm.”

  They saved her purse with the bullion, the food from the fridge, Forest Moss’ clothes and her blue gingham sundress before the house groaned and collapsed in a sudden thunder of broken timbers.

  * * *

  The elf encampment lay beyond the enclaves, just across a stone bridge that was still under construction. A large clearing had been cut in the towering ironwoods, leaving only five massive oak trees standing. Elfshines drifted under the dark canopy, glowing bright enough for them to walk easily through the camp.

  Prince True Flame of the Fire Clan was in one of the white silk tents that gleamed like a lantern from the outside. He was leaning over a table, studying maps, as the Wyverns escorted Olivia and Forest Moss in. He looked up and relief went across his face when he saw Forest Moss.

  “Good, you found him,” he said to the Wyverns and turned his attention to the maps again.

  “No, they terrorized him,” Olivia snapped.

  “They were in a bed together,” the Wyvern reported. “They’d had intercourse…”

  “I’m his domi.” Olivia tried not to shout the words.

  “And she is not naekuna,” the Wyvern finished.

  Forest Moss started to wail.

  “Tell me what is wrong,” Olivia said. “Can’t you see that you’re torturing him? You’ve shut him up in silence with his grief and his guilt until you’ve driven him mad! He needs me.”

  “It is against our laws for domana to have half-caste children. It’s for the protection of their entire clan. If you were fertile when he coupled with you…”

  “I was already pregnant when we met.”

  “She is perfect!” Forest Moss wailed. “Beautiful and fearless. I can drink deep and fill my thirst. Perfect! Perfect!”

  Prince True Flame sighed and looked to the Wyvern beside him. “I do not want to start the clan war again over the idiocy that the Stone Clan is committing here. You are our moral compass, Red Knife. What say you on this?”

  “She quiets his madness,” Red Knife murmured. “If she was with child prior to their union, then there has been no harm done. I say allow them to continue until she bears the child.”

  “That will buy only a little time.”

  “He has offered. She has accepted. There is no risk she will bear a half-caste child. Those are our laws. We cannot deny him what we’ve allowed Wolf Who Rules.”

  “She is human,” Prince True Flame pointed out.

  “We determined that humans were intelligent creatures with souls when we first found our way to Earth. For that reason alone, we have trusted them to enter into a treaty with our people. We cannot recognize that they are as we are—with souls and minds—and not treat them as equal—for to do so would judge them on their bodies alone. If we deny them equality, then we can’t claim that our souls and minds are proof that we are shaped by God. To diminish them is to diminish ourselves; one follows the other as day follows night.”

  Prince True Flame nodded and sighed. “What is your name?”

  “Olivia.”

  “Olive Branch above Stone,” he translated her name to Elvish. “We need him sane and fighting. See that it happens.”

  She grabbed Forest Moss by the wrist and dragged him from the annoying elf before she said something angry and got them both into trouble. The set of five Wyverns followed cautiously at the distance. Knowing that they were safe for now, she ignored them. She didn’t stop walking until they were back to Pittsburgh proper, comforting in its familiar human city streets.

  “What are we going to do?” Forest Moss asked when she paused in the shadow of the Heinz Chapel.

  No one had ever asked her that before. She’d always been told the shape of her life, ignoring what she wanted. She hadn’t come to Pittsburgh to escape sex, marriage, and having a baby. She hadn’t been running away from anything. She’d been running to the right to choose such things for herself.

  Maybe some would scorn the shape of the life she was building, pointing out that Forest Moss was a tormented, scarred, one-eyed insane elf. But he
gazed at her as if she was clever and good and wise and strong. He stood waiting patiently to hear what she thought. She leaned her forehead against his chest and marveled at how comforting it felt to be with someone who believed that his life was better if she had her own thoughts and desires.

  “I need to find someplace to live,” she said.

  “Together?” he said with such fear that she realized that, unlike “wife,” the term “domi” didn’t come with the expectation that she had to live with her mate.

  “Yes,” she hugged him tightly, wanting to heal him. Wanting to be as strong and powerful as he believed her to be. As she always could have been, if just given the chance to be herself. “Together.”

  PRICE OF PEACE

  Less than a mile from the Rim, where the enclaves of Wind Clan elves were backed by virgin forest, one lone façade blazed in defiance. The red neon sign proclaimed fearlessly ESSIE’S ORIGINAL HOT DOG SHOP. A small blue sign stated firmly, HOME OF THE ‘O’ FRIES, WINGS AND BARBECUE, SUBS AND BEER. The door stood open, letting out a wave of hot perfume of grilled hot dogs, fried potatoes, melted cheese, and spilled beer. How it managed to serve this bounty of food while stranded on an alien planet, under siege during a war between two inhuman races, Olivia had no idea.

  It was, however, a welcome human refuge. She paused just inside the door, blinking at the sudden unforgiving light of ancient halogen overheads. The busy cooks ignored her entrance, lifting baskets out of the cooking oil, turning hot dogs, and delivering up paper-lined baskets while chanting out filled orders.

  Olivia pushed her way into the crowd waiting for their food, beers in hand. The day had been a blur and her stomach was clenching up into a tight knot that lately was followed with vomiting. She was vaguely aware of the wave of silence and widening eyes.

  “Next!” the girl at the counter cried, slapping the last slip onto the counter by the cooks.

  Olivia was fairly sure that she was jumping the line, but the line seemed to be in the process of trying to escape what was trailing behind Olivia. Nothing she could do about the situation, so she was determinedly ignoring it for now. She scanned the menu. No wonder the restaurant still had food after a month of being stranded on another planet. It featured jumpfish, saurus, stag, and something called indi. The fish was breaded and fried, the indi was served as kabobs, but the other meats were made into sausage as substitute hot dogs. Her stomach nearly revolted at the idea of mystery meat on a bun.