The Marriage Contract

by Rose Wulf

  Batson snorted. “Jonas? What the fuck is that heartless bastard gonna do from halfway around the country? Use her disappearance to garner sympathy business?”

  “What he does is up to him,” Irena said. “But since we have no explainable stake in her situation, that’s our best course of action. I’m sorry.”

  Batson reared back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shook his head before she’d even narrowed her eyes. “I’m supposed to sit on my ass while Lia could be out there hurt because I can’t explain why I give a damn? Do you hear yourself?”

  Irena sighed. “How would you explain your certainty that she’s even missing so soon? Her car’s there, you saw her earlier in the day. Even if you say you knocked on the door multiple times, anyone outside of us would accuse you of being paranoid.”

  “Why the hell do you think I haven’t gone to the police yet?” Batson returned shortly.

  “And you won’t,” Irena said. “Because there’s no reason for you to be so aware of her movements—or lack thereof.”

  Jake spoke up before Batson could gather enough of his thoughts to explode. “She’s got that good friend, right? Probably tomorrow, Monday at the absolute worst, someone will notice. Even if Jonas does nothing.”

  Batson spun to face his father. “Monday?” he repeated. “We don’t know what the hell’s wrong. We can’t assume she has until Monday!”

  “Batson,” Irena said.

  “No,” he interrupted, turning sharply toward the door. “Forget this. Go back to bed. I’ll do it on my own.”

  “Batson,” Irena called after him as he wrenched open the door. “Mind the contract!”

  “Fuck the contract.” He slammed the door behind him for good measure.

  ****

  Either she was more disoriented than she thought, or the room she was in was bigger than she would have guessed. Ophelia had no idea how long she’d been trapped, much less how long she’d been awake, but she had followed the curve of the wall for a while and had yet to find any type of seam that might indicate a door. For that matter, she didn’t know for sure if she was still on the same wall or a second. Logic dictated she was on at least a second, if not a third, but she hadn’t felt any juncture to suggest such a change.

  The wall wasn’t unlike the ground in texture. If she was right, and she was underground, the rounded surface of the wall made her somehow more uncomfortable than she’d been before. A picture had begun to form in Ophelia’s mind as she’d gathered these details. An image of a woman walking around blind in a spherical cavern beneath the surface of the earth. That was what this had begun to feel like—a cave.

  Ophelia hated caves.

  The only part of the theory that still didn’t make sense was the lack of proper air. Most caves had openings, didn’t they? How could she possibly have ended up materialized in a hole underground with no connection to the surface? There had to be an explanation somewhere. There had to be an entrance.

  Just keep going.

  She’d managed to regulate her breathing, mostly. She was desperate for a real, cleansing breath of fresh air. To feel the breeze on her skin. To let it dance through her hair. Gods, the moment she had a toe outside this place, she’d fly home. She just had to find that opening first. It had to be somewhere.

  The thin, stagnant air in her prison suddenly stirred and became fuller. Ophelia greedily sucked it in as she froze in place, her ears registering a quiet, grinding sound. Something heavy being dragged over something else. A few seconds behind the sound, and in the wake of the blissful increase of oxygen, came a flicker of light. Too orange to be sunlight. Fire?

  No. A lantern. As her eyes adjusted to the small but glaring intrusion, she realized it was a lantern. A bit of an old-fashioned one, too. It didn’t do much for illuminating the area, but in contrast to the total darkness she’d been stuck in moments prior, it may as well have been the sun itself.

  The lantern lifted, revealing the silhouette of a familiar figure. Confirming everything Ophelia had known and everything she hadn’t wanted to believe.

  “What are you doing on the wall, Ophelia?” Yvette asked calmly. The marginally increased amount of air in the space swirled around her, pulling away from Ophelia. Undoubtedly a deliberate act. Yvette didn’t want to give Ophelia any kind of opportunity.

  Ophelia kept one hand on the wall but adjusted to face her grandmother somewhat. Mostly, she pointed her body in the direction Yvette had come from. “What do you think I’m doing?” Her voice was raspy from the thin, dry air.

  Ophelia couldn’t see her grandmother’s face, but she saw the frown clearly in her mind when Yvette spoke. “I’m not going to let you out of here. Not until you come to your senses.”

  She dug her fingertips into the uneven surface that served as a wall. “Me? You’ve abducted your own granddaughter!” Ophelia coughed, the sound wheezing from her chest. “You’ve trapped me in … whatever this is. But I’m the one who needs to ‘come to my senses’?”

  “I’ll keep enough air in here for you to breathe,” Yvette said. “You’ll be fed. But you won’t leave. Not until your contract with that salamander half-blood is broken—one way or another.”

  That last phrase set ice to Ophelia’s blood. “What does that … mean?”

  “You can admit the truth of what you need to do,” Yvette replied. “I’ll set you free from here and help you gain your freedom from them.” She paused. “Or I will force you to break the contract another way.”

  Force her to break it? “You can’t,” Ophelia whispered hoarsely.

  “Of course, I can,” Yvette said. “I wanted to do it gently, with that human boy. To let you choose him on some level. But sooner or later, you’ll be so desperate to leave this hole you’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I won’t,” Ophelia rasped, “be a part … of your game.”

  Yvette stepped up to her and placed her free hand on Ophelia’s cheek. This close, Ophelia could see the color of her eyes in the glow of the lantern. “Your life has never been a game to me, my dear.”

  That did it.

  Ophelia lurched forward in a fit of desperate rage and tackled her grandmother to the unforgiving ground. The lantern flew from Yvette’s grasp and crashed, shattering, plunging them back into darkness. A rush of air gave Ophelia strength, but instead of breathing it, she used it. She took hold of all of it and spread it out until she found the cracks. The tiny, probably all but invisible gaps around the one way in and out of the hole she’d been trapped in. The path Yvette had planned to take when she made her exit.

  Yvette groaned, the sound laced with pain, and stammered her name. “O-Ophelia.”

  There was nothing the old woman could say to keep her there another second.

  Ophelia focused on those minuscule openings and let her body shift. In a heartbeat, she shed her flesh, dissolved her bones and muscles, discarded her clothes, and became one with the air. In the next, she fled, leaving her grandmother alone in the hole. Someone had helped Yvette get her there, someone could help Yvette get out.

  ****

  Kipp opened his door with a yawn. “Batson? Man, it’s late—”

  “I know what fucking time it is,” Batson interrupted. His temper had long since expired, but he locked his jaw for a second and huffed out a breath. “I just … I need your help. And I can’t really explain it.” Which made him little better than shit, but what choice did he have?

  Kipp studied him for a second as the sleep disappeared from his eyes. “C’m in,” he slurred, moving aside simultaneously. “Looks like I’m gonna need to put on pants for this. What’s goin’ on?”

  “How you dress is up to you,” Batson said. Granted, some might look at him oddly for being out in the middle of the night in his boxers, but what did that ultimately matter? Batson sank into Kipp’s couch and dragged his hands over his face. He’d driven around on his own some more after failing to get help from his heartless parents, but he came to the same conclusion the second time that
he’d reached before. There was only so much he could do by himself.

  He was going to have to take the risk. But who the hell cared about a stupid piece of paper in comparison to her life?

  “Dang, Batson,” Kipp said, returning to the room with a glass of water. “You look like shit. What happened?”

  “It’s Li—Ophelia,” he said, her proper name awkward on his tongue. Kipp’s eyes widened again. “She’s disappeared.”

  Kipp sat heavily in his chair. He didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  Batson held his fists clenched in his lap, forcing himself to give his friend a moment to consider what he’d just said. It wasn’t like Kipp had any reason to think Batson gave a damn.

  “Why do you think that?” Kipp asked before bringing his water to his lips.

  It was a fair question, even if it wasn’t the one he’d expected Kipp to start with. “Her car’s home,” he said, “but she’s not. There’s no sign she made it home. Her phone goes straight to voicemail, so it’s either off or dead. I tried calling hours ago.”

  “Man, I’ve got a lot of questions,” Kipp mumbled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “But I guess if she’s missing, this isn’t the time to be too nosy.” He met Batson’s stare. “Look, we’ve been friends forever. If you’re sure, then I’ll take your word. I’ll do whatever I can. But when this is over, you owe me some answers.”

  Batson nodded. He had no right to deny that request, not when he’d come pounding on the man’s door at this ungodly hour.

  Kipp downed the rest of his water. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to let you know I found out the other day she’s a sylph.”

  Batson straightened. That surprised him. Why hadn’t Lia said anything?

  “I know you know,” Kipp said. It wasn’t an accusation. “She didn’t want to tell me, but when we were planning your party, this guy came up and started harassing her. He mentioned something odd about ‘things you did’ or whatever and, anyway, she told me. So if this might be something about that, I already know.”

  Batson scowled. “That’s good, I guess,” he muttered. “The guy, was his name Keith?”

  “Yeah,” Kipp replied.

  The uneasy feeling that’d been twisting his gut for hours intensified. He’d had a thought, a while ago, but deliberately dismissed it as outrageous. An argument, an emotional betrayal, didn’t warrant this level of escalation. But if Keith had shown up in her life again just the other day … was it a coincidence? Or a sign?

  “Batson?”

  He ground his teeth again. “I shouldn’t be involving you in this shit,” he said.

  Kipp set his glass on the coffee table and stood. “Too late,” he said. “I’m up, I’m curious, I’m concerned. I’m invested.” He stretched his arms and added, “Besides, I’ve never seen you bent out of shape over a woman. I think maybe I’ve figured out why you always shut down my efforts to set you up with someone.”

  Batson shoved to his feet. “Just put some goddamn clothes on and get looking.”

  Kipp’s faintly teasing expression vanished. “Okay, okay. Where are we looking?”

  “I’ve been fucking everywhere in this town,” Batson replied. But if that warning bell was right … he was looking in the wrong city. “Her grandmother lives about an hour from here. We’ll go there.”

  “You know where her grandma lives?” The shock in Kipp’s voice wasn’t surprising.

  Batson fought to keep his temperature in check. “Not the address, just the town. Why the fuck are we still talking?”

  Kipp held up his hands. “Right, sorry, moving.” He turned and headed down the hall toward his room.

  Guilt poked something in Batson’s chest. There was at least one thing he should mention. “If I’m right about her grandmother,” he called, “you might want to stay out of it.”

  “Uh, why?” Kipp called back. The sound of a sliding closet door echoed the question.

  Batson released a slow breath. “She’s an Elder.”

  There was a beat of silence, then, “Are you shitting me? You think Ophelia was abducted by her own Elder?” Kipp strode out of his room, wearing still unbuttoned jeans and holding his shirt. “Maybe we should both stay out of it, Batson. We’re salamanders.”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Batson returned. “But even if she has, I’m not abandoning her to that old bitch.” Kipp’s head jerked back a little.

  “I know it sounds harsh,” Kipp said, placating. “But … I mean, my grandfather would be pretty pissed if a couple of sylphs butted in on salamander business. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  Right. Kipp’s grandfather was their area Elder. He’d almost forgotten.

  Batson twisted around, away from Kipp. “Never mind.”

  “Hey!” Kipp called, catching Batson’s arm and stopping him before he’d reached the door. “Don’t do that. What the hell? Batson, it sucks, but it’s the system—”

  Batson rounded on Kipp and shoved him back. “I don’t give a shit about the system!” He clenched a fist but refrained from throwing it. “I love her, all right? She’s in trouble, I can fucking feel it, and I need to find her. That’s all that fucking matters right now. So help me or stay out of my way.”

  Kipp stared at him for a long second, released a breath, and pulled his shirt over his head. “You know I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hey,” Kipp said, his voice only mildly distorted through the truck’s speakers. “Since we’re heading this way, and it’s already crazy, should we check out the tunnels?”

  Batson scowled at the empty road ahead of him. The beauty of driving at obscene hours of the night—or morning—almost no one else was on the road. “Tunnels?”

  “The exit coming up,” Kipp replied. “There’s a dirt road about a mile from the interstate, and off it, there’re some old tunnels and things. I don’t know if any of the old folk stories I heard as a kid about how they got there are true, but after the salamanders settled around here, we took charge of them. I mean, they’re pretty convenient, even if they are underground.”

  Secret tunnels on the outskirts of town and the high probability that his missing wife had been abducted by her own Elder? “Yeah, let’s check ’em out. After we turn off, I’ll pull over and let you lead.”

  “’Kay,” Kipp replied as the first sign for the upcoming exit appeared in Batson’s line of sight.

  Batson slowed appropriately as he took the downward curving off-ramp, Kipp’s SUV in his rearview mirror. “Which way?”

  “Veer right,” Kipp said.

  Batson obediently went right when the exit insisted on a choice and a couple of blocks later, he found a parking lot perfectly suitable for pulling off in. With a couple of twists of the steering wheel and the best patience he could muster, he and Kipp were back on the road, Kipp in the lead.

  They slowed down out of necessity when they hit the dirt road and Batson gripped the wheel. He had no way of knowing if they were headed in the right direction. For all he knew, she was home again. But he had to look. He had to try. He’d drive himself crazy just repeatedly canvasing the same neighborhoods and checking her house every hour. He had to assume, if she hadn’t called, she wasn’t home. Or anywhere else safe enough to make a call. So until he knew she was safe, this was the best he could do.

  Kipp broke through his musings a minute or three later. “Well, damn.”

  “What?”

  “There’re cars here,” he said. “In the parking zone. Up ahead on the left.”

  Batson shifted his focus in the proper direction. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

  “I’m genuinely conflicted as to what that means for our search,” Kipp said through the speakers. “Do you recognize them?” Kipp slowed as he spoke as they neared the lot. Apparently, that was the destination.

  There were two vehicles, side-by-side, but Batson only recognized one. The one that mattered. “That nauseating Buick,” he
said. “It’s Yvette’s.”

  “Yvette?”

  “Lia’s grandmother,” Batson elaborated. Too late realizing he probably should have again used her proper name. Or reworded his answer.

  This time, a grin had edged into Kipp’s voice, because Kipp never did miss an opportunity to poke at him. “Lia, huh?”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  It said a lot for Kipp’s understanding of the situation that he dropped the joke. “So you were right. This doesn’t look good, Batson.” He parked his SUV several paces away from the other pair of vehicles.

  Batson swung around and blocked the ugly Buick in with his truck. Just in case he missed the bitch on foot. “I know how it looks,” he said before disconnecting and jumping from the truck. His boots hit the gravel with a mildly satisfying crunch and he slammed the door shut behind him. They’d have to do the rest on foot, and he had a feeling there was a lot of ground to cover, but they were close.

  Kipp joined him at the edge of the parking area, facing the subtly rolling slopes of unassuming dirt. He pointed almost straight ahead. “The closest one is there, if I remember right. But there are probably half a dozen scattered out past that point. If we have to search every tunnel, it’ll take a while. Especially if we have to dig into the ones that’ve caved in.”

  “Then we better get moving,” Batson replied, starting forward. It was bad enough the old hag had kidnapped her own granddaughter and likely dragged her out to a place no one would generally think to look for her. But what had she done to keep Lia in captivity all these hours? The question was barely in Batson’s head before Kipp’s words replayed in his memory. “Where’re the ones that’ve caved in?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Kipp glanced at him before looking forward again. “I mean, I don’t have a map in my head. But I know there are two or three.”

  It was annoying, but the answer wasn’t unreasonable. “Did any of the cave-ins leave … space?”

  “Space?”

  “Like a bubble,” Batson said. “An isolated cavern or something. Somewhere a person could feasibly fit.”