Copper Veins

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “Forgive me?” I asked, though I deserved no such thing.

  “Of course,” he said, tucking my head against his throat. I loved that, too.

  “When we do have children, can we still cuddle like this?” I asked. “All of us?” I felt his face stretch into a smile.

  “Of course.”

  28

  Micah and I stayed in the guestroom that night, hiding from the world behind the cheery yellow bed curtains. For a while, we just looked at each other, lost in each other’s eyes. Cheesy, right? But it was true—I had fallen deep into those silver eyes of his, and I never, ever, wanted to find my way out.

  After a while, our gazing was joined by little whispered endearments, greeting card-worthy declarations of love and devotion. Micah told me bits and pieces of his early childhood, that long-ago time before his father had died. Then, Micah had been a treasured only child and the center of his parents’ world.

  “Such love, such happiness,” he murmured. “That is what I want for our family.”

  I nodded—I remembered such feelings well from my own childhood. “Then we should build a wall around the manor, one higher than the roof, to keep everything bad away.”

  “How would we ever leave?” Micah asked.

  “We’ll make a door, silly.” We laughed at that, my assorted bruises causing me to wince.

  “I believe it is time for me to teach you a bit more about your abilities,” Micah murmured, his fingertips gliding along my cheek. “A bit more about the magic that stirs within you.”

  “What sort of magic?” Based on my string of bad decisions, it was probably an intelligence spell.

  “Healing magic.” Micah’s hand traveled under the covers and around my hips, and he laid his hand flat against my mark. “You remember the Goblin Market, when I drew my silver inward to heal myself?”

  “I do.” The image of Micah’s beaten, naked form was permanently etched behind my eyelids. “Is that what you’re going to teach me?”

  “Yes. Do you feel this?” He pressed a fingertip against my mark, and a pleasant, liquid warmth emanated outward with the pressure, like ripples on a pond.

  “It feels nice. Warm.”

  Micah smiled, then slid his fingertip across my back, around my hip and to my belly. Once he’d reached a spot just north of my navel, he pushed up the hem of my shirt, and motioned for me to look. There was a small circle of copper where his finger had been. While I stared, amazed by this new mark, Micah bent forward and kissed my belly. When he raised his head, his lips were copper.

  “You took my metal!” I squeaked. “Give it back!”

  “As you wish.” Micah kissed me on the lips, and that now-familiar warmth melted back into me. Micah kissed a trail from my mouth to my cheek, tugging the copper along with him. Once he reached the bruises, the warmth dissolved away, along with my pain.

  “I’m better,” I said, feeling my now-unswollen cheek. “Can I, um, do that to the rest of me?” I asked, glancing downward.

  “Assuredly,” Micah replied. “Much as you can call metal to your physical form, you may instruct the metal in your body to leave your mark and attend any part of you that is unwell.”

  “Huh.” I eyed Micah, kneeling over me on the bed. “Take off your shirt.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I think I’d like to practice on you.”

  Micah wholeheartedly agreed with my plan. He stripped off his shirt and lay on his belly, and I amused myself by dragging bits of silver all across his body. I felt closer to him than I ever had, touching not only his skin, but that which lay beneath.

  After I’d given him a silver moustache and covered his chest in silver polka dots, it was time to undo what the Queen’s Lace had done. We lay facing each other again, and Micah helped me guide my copper to where I needed it most. It was both intense and erotic, so much so that my hands trembled and sweat beaded on Micah’s upper lip. Luckily, I’m a fast learner, and Micah was an excellent teacher. By morning, the only evidence of my stupidity was the thick, itchy bandage wound around me.

  “Are you sure?” Micah murmured when I expressed my dire need to bathe.

  “I am,” I replied. To prove my newly robust state, I got out of bed, wobbling only a bit. I caught the bedpost before I stumbled too far. “Let’s go to the Clear Pool.”

  Micah raised an eyebrow at that—since my family began living at the manor, and the silverkin had managed indoor plumbing, neither of us had bathed in the gardens except for a few late-night swims. The last thing we needed was for Mom—or Max—to find us splashing away.

  “It’s what’s done, around here,” I mumbled, suddenly unsure. “And, since I’m the lady of the house and all, I need to get used to it. Besides, the water’s really warm.”

  Micah smiled. “Very well. The Clear Pool it is.”

  It was only just after dawn, and Micah and I only encountered the bare minimum of silverkin as we made our way to the palace gardens. That was good, since I hadn’t bothered putting anything on other than Micah’s shirt. Since it was one of his pirate shirts (I was still waiting for him to admit that he had no idea what a pirate was) it hung almost to my knees. My happiness at not encountering any of my family members faded once we reached the Clear Pool and Micah tried helping me out of my bandages.

  “Who do you think put them on you?” he asked calmly as he unwound a length of linen. I looked away, well and truly mortified.

  “I have no idea how I will ever make this up to you,” I mumbled. Then his hands were coaxing my arms upward, and he tugged the shirt up and over my head.

  “I can think of a few things,” he said as he led me into the pool. The water was as warm and soothing as always. We waved our hellos to the Bright Lady, but we didn’t venture to her side of the pool. This time was for us, just me and my husband.

  My husband.

  Dad had freaked when I told him Micah and I were married. Well, what did he think, that I would wait for his miraculous reappearance to seek his approval? And the way he’d treated Micah since…it was just wrong. Micah was a good man, better than I’d thought any man could be, and I couldn’t care less what my father—or anyone else—thought about him. Micah was mine and I was his, end of story.

  We splashed around a bit, letting the magical waters rinse away the lingering bits of pain. I ducked my head, and when I surfaced I saw that Micah had left the water and stretched out on the grassy bank. The sight of him lounging next to the pool in the early morning light made all thoughts of my family’s disagreements evaporate like so much dew. I crawled out of the water and knelt beside him.

  “You mentioned that you thought of a few things?” I asked as I took my place beside him.

  “I did,” he murmured. I leaned forward and kissed him, and as my husband and I lay naked on the grass I finally felt like I belonged in the Otherworld. I may have been born in the Mundane realm, but it wasn’t my home. It never truly had been.

  For me, home was wherever Micah was.

  “Others are coming,” the Bright Lady called to us. “You might want to return to my waters. Unless you don’t mind them having a look at your bare bottoms?”

  We laughed and returned to the warm, silky waters. Then I was in Micah’s arms again, kissing him deeply. We—or at least I—promptly forgot the Bright Lady’s warning, until there was an impatient throat-clearing behind us.

  “Your father,” Micah murmured, since my back was to the newcomer.

  “Dad, my husband and I are having a moment,” I called out without turning. “One I’d rather you didn’t witness.”

  “Sara—”

  “I’m fine, Dad,” I called, remembering how he’d last seen me. “It was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t know what the herbs really did.”

  “Sara, I brought someone to talk to you.”

  “Little busy here.” I was done with him bossing me around. He had only been back in my life for a few days, yet he couldn’t manage to treat me like anything other than the seven-year-old he’d abandoned.
<
br />   Micah’s arms suddenly tightened about me. I glanced upward, but his eyes were fixed on what I assumed was my father. I glanced over my shoulder, and learned that once again I was wrong.

  Behind Dad stood Juliana.

  29

  I turned around slowly, as if the water in the Clear Pool had gone from its usual silky warmth to cold molasses. Micah wrapped an arm around my upper body, whether to preserve my modesty or keep me from running out of the pool and killing someone, I didn’t know.

  Dad had brought Juliana to the manor. So yeah, probably the latter.

  “Why is she here?” I ground out. Why the hell had Dad brought her here? Didn’t he know that Mike Armstrong was her uncle, and that Juliana was nothing more than one of his pawns? Didn’t he know that Juliana had betrayed us all?

  “Sara, please,” Juliana said as she stepped out from behind my father. “I only want to help you.”

  “You do not get to speak!” I shouted, pointing at the traitor. Traitors! Both of them! Micah grabbed my hand and thrust it under the water, then he called for the silverkin. They appeared in an instant, swarming like silver bees around Dad and Juliana.

  “Restrain the newcomer,” Micah ordered, sounding more regal than Oriana or Ferra ever had. “Escort her to the dungeon.”

  “Now, let’s not do something we will regret,” Dad protested as Juliana was placed in silver shackles, but Micah silenced him with a glare.

  “Interfere, and you will share her cell,” Micah commanded. “Wait for us inside. Sara and I will be along directly.”

  Juliana was led off and Dad, for once without a snappy comeback, retreated to the manor like he was told. I turned around to face Micah, trembling with fury.

  “Why would my father bring her here?” I demanded. “Her, of all people?”

  Micah, strong, reliable Micah, held me close. “I do not know, love,” he murmured. “But I do mean to find out.”

  A new set of silverkin appeared, this time bearing towels and fresh clothing. Micah and I took our time exiting the pool, and even more as we dried ourselves and dressed. In addition to avoiding whatever nonsense waited for us inside the manor, our dawdling gave me plenty of time to think. Unfortunately, my mind kept racing back to the same conclusion—Dad had brought Juliana here to talk me into leaving Micah.

  “Not gonna happen,” I muttered as I tied my shoes.

  “What was that, love?” Micah asked. He was wearing one of his buff-colored leather suits that I’d once found so odd, but now appreciated for their versatility and freedom of movement. His sword belt was slung low about his hips, which I found unbearably sexy. As for me, I was also dressed for battle in jeans, sneakers, a black tank top, and a hoodie. After our initial wardrobe disagreements, Micah had come to find my jeans unbearably sexy as well.

  “I just…” I shook my head, and began again. “This is just crazy.”

  “Then let us make it not crazy,” Micah declared. Despite the many intricacies of the Otherworld, Micah always managed to see things clearly. He seemed to never be conflicted or confused. Then again, it wasn’t his father who had dragged the enemy into our home. “My Sara,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “We have let them wait long enough.”

  Maybe we let them wait a bit too long, based on the sight of the Corbeaus clustered around the front room. Four sets of eyes, their expressions ranging from fury to confusion, watched as Micah and I entered, hand in hand. When I remembered how close I’d been to death’s door the last time they’d seen me, I understood that an explanation was my first order of business.

  “It was a mistake,” I began without preamble—it’s not like they didn’t know what I was talking about. “I didn’t know what the herb really did.”

  “Yes, you did,” said Sadie. “You went to the apothecary specifically to buy it.” Micah’s hand tensed in mine, but he remained silent.

  “No, I thought it would prevent a pregnancy,” I said, shaking my head, “not end one.”

  “Otherworldly birth control?” Sadie asked with a raised brow.

  “Umm, yeah.” I’d never claimed to be the smart one. Max and Sadie began poking holes in my lame argument, and I couldn’t tell if they were trying to prove my stupidity or catch me in a lie. I don’t think I’d ever felt so betrayed in my life.

  “You see, Sara,” Dad said, leaning forward, “that’s why we would like to talk to you. Alone would be preferable,” he added with a pointed look toward Micah.

  “I stand beside my wife,” Micah said, his arm circling my shoulders.

  “She was my daughter first,” Dad challenged, but I’d had enough.

  “Okay. I did a dumb thing. I get it. I’m sorry.” I waited a moment, then I fixed Dad in the same cold gaze he’d used on Micah. “And Dad, don’t try to turn this around. We’re here because you brought Juliana—a Peacekeeper—here.”

  Just like that, the heat was off me.

  “She’s here?” Max asked, blinking as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. “Juliana Armstrong is here, in the manor?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Saw her with my own eyes.”

  “Where is she?” Max demanded, leaping to his feet.

  “Where she can’t cause any trouble.” I turned to Dad. “Care to explain yourself?”

  “I brought her here because she is your friend,” Dad replied. “Sara, you’re forgetting who you are. You’ve been here in the Otherworld and away from others like you for so long that you’re having a hard time seeing things as they truly are.”

  “Others like me?” I yelled, my voice rising a few octaves. “I’m a metal Elemental! So is Micah! And I’m surrounded by my family! Everyone here is like me!” Micah murmured for me to relax—he slipped his hand underneath my tank top and rubbed my mark. Calmness cascaded over me in waves, and I leaned bacl against him.

  “You see!” Dad yelled, jumping to his feet. “He controls you!”

  “No, Dad, he loves me.” Mom looked away when I said that—I remembered her saying how Dad wouldn’t touch her.

  “How did you even know about Juliana?” Sadie asked. “We didn’t even meet her until long after you were gone. I think it was a year after Max was arrested.”

  “I told you, darling, I had my people watching the Raven Compound,” Dad replied. “They reported on everyone who visited the house.”

  “But how did you know where to find her?” Sadie pressed. “The last time we saw her—”

  “She was in the Mundane realm, at the apartment she shared with Sara,” Micah said over her.

  “Of course I knew your address, Sara,” Dad explained. “My people are watching the building to this day.”

  “Are they?” I said as I stared at him, at the pieces falling into place. I couldn’t believe we’d fallen for it. “You know, of course, that Jerome Polonsky isn’t really Avatar’s son.”

  “Is that what Micah told you?” Dad asked, his condescending tone raising my hackles. “Sara, I was there. I know the truth of the matter.”

  “The truth of the matter is that Avatar lost his balls when he was twelve and never fathered anyone,” Mom said. “Everyone knows that.” Dad frowned—he hadn’t expected such an ironclad rebuttal. Mom gave her husband a good long look, and asked, “Why did you ask me about the Raven?”

  At that, Max and Sadie went still. “What did he want to know?” Sadie asked.

  “He asked me who and where he was,” Mom replied. “So, I brought him right to the bird. Beau just stood there, staring at him as if he’d never seen him before.”

  “Wait,” Max said. “He asked who the Raven was?”

  “He asked me who the Raven was, too,” Sadie said. “At first, I thought he was just testing me. But he kept asking me where he was, and if I could get a message to him.”

  As we let that revelation sink in, Dad started spluttering. “You know that my memories aren’t what they once were,” he began, but Max—Max, of all people—shook his head.

  “Not gonna fly,” Max said.
“The only way a Corbeau could forget about the Raven is a brain transplant.”

  As Dad went on, explaining the horrible sacrifices he had had to make after the wars while hiding from roving bands of Peacekeepers, I wondered how they—whoever they were—had managed such a detailed facsimile. He’d even had the right pattern of freckles.

  Wait. There was no way Peacekeepers had managed this on their own.

  “Show us your mark,” I demanded.

  “What?” Dad countered, taking a step back. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “I’d like to see my father’s mark.”

  “Sara, this is not appropriate—”

  “Why are you so cold to Mom?” I interjected. Dad shut his mouth with an audible clack. “It’s because you can’t let her get too close, isn’t it? She’ll see that you don’t have a mark, and then she’ll know that you aren’t really our dad.”

  “Sara, please—”

  In an instant, Micah was across the room, his hands around Not-My-Dad’s throat. “Shapeshifter,” Micah growled. “How dare you infiltrate my home. How dare you use those I love.” Not-Dad pawed at Micah’s hands, his face reddening and his eyes bulging. “Drop this ill-gotten guise, or I will force it from you.”

  Not-Dad refused to comply, so Micah knocked his head into the wall. As the shapeshifter slipped from consciousness, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he slid down to the floor, he reverted to his true form, that of a slovenly, gray-skinned creature of indeterminate gender.

  Mom rose from her seat, slowly approaching the creature that had impersonated her husband. “Abomination,” she murmured. “A vile, vile abomination.” She raised her hand, sparks dancing among her fingers, but before she could strike, physically or magically, Max leapt forward and caught her hand.

  “Might need him, Ma,” he warned. “Maybe for intel, maybe as a hostage.”

  Mom nodded and lowered her hand. “I’ve waited sixteen years—my vengeance can wait another day or two. But not much longer.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, staring at the shapeshifter. “Some part of me knew he was not my Beau, but I wanted him returned to me so badly, so badly I…”