Akasha 4 - Earth (21 page)

Shawn looked at the notebook, then
back at David. He turned away before he followed his better
instincts to strangle the man. Shawn drove his shoulder into the
door again.

David closed the notebook. In between
Shawn's pounding, he asked, "So do you want to go back to camp
before we leave?"

Shawn paused, rubbing his shoulder.
"If I have time tomorrow. We need to focus on breaking camp and
getting everyone on the move before that storm gets
here."

Shawn turned, and aimed for the door
with his left shoulder. The door sprung open into a dark room.
Shawn lit a match and stepped inside.

The small flame glinted off large,
metal barrels. Bright white lettering along the side of them read,
'Fuel Oil'.

David stepped up beside Shawn, "Enough
to get us to Denver – I dare say, sir."

Shawn nodded. "Get a working party;
put all the barrels down in the engine room. I'll be in my
quarters, and I'll need some privacy. No interruptions."

* * *

Shawn stood on the platform once
again. This time there were no shimmery forms flying through the
air, nor swimming below. They were all in solid, human form,
waiting in line patiently on the stairs. It was eerie. Shawn held
up his hand, tightly wrapped in bandages from his experience two
days earlier. The skin was trying to mend itself, but every time he
moved his fingers, barely-healed wounds tore open.

He sighed, rewrapping his right hand.
He lifted his left, gesturing the first in line forward and said,
"Come on. Let's get this over with."

She was an Earth Shade – and Chinese.
Energy swirled around her feet as she stepped forward, revealing
her unchecked excitement. Dust and grime from the dirt floor lifted
to join the fray.

Shawn coughed, covering his mouth with
his bandaged hand. "In love and in trust, in peace and in wisdom, I
release you. So mote it be."

The Chinese woman nodded once at
Shawn, and her silky-white skin grew even brighter. Shawn grimaced
as the familiar burn touched his good hand. He wasn't going to be
able to hold on to his bike handlebar for weeks. Was this Sarah's
way of delaying his plans? If only he could talk to her…

As the Chinese woman disappeared in a
puff of smoke, Shawn glanced up at the cove high on the wall. It
was dark.

A sudden blast of wind hit Shawn. He
squinted, protecting his eyes from the sting as his hair and
clothes flapped.

Once the wind died down, someone
giggled. "Oh – sorry."

He opened one eye, then another. An
elderly woman—an Air, obviously—stood hunched before
him.

"I have been waiting a long time to
return to the open arms of the Goddess," she said.

Shawn ran the back of his hands over
his hair, trying to tame it. "May your return join together body,
spirit, and Shade, giving back to the Earth what was
borrowed."

The woman grinned from ear to ear and
the wind started up again. Shawn stuck out his hand, turned his
head and said the chant quickly before he was blown off the
ledge.

As she floated away, Shawn heard a
distant, "Thank you, young man."

Shawn rubbed his face with his arm and
grumbled, "Happy to oblige."

"Margaret always was
excitable."

Shawn jumped at the voice over his
shoulder. Arianna stood there, smiling at the puff of smoke the old
woman left behind.

"You going to miss them? Because we
don't have to do this."

Arianna narrowed her eyes at Shawn.
"This Athame was never meant to be tainted. The wrong must be made
right again."

Shawn huffed; righting wrongs was a
lot of work.

"Next!" Arianna called for
Shawn.

Chapter
30

Inked

"Are you awake?"

The voice called me from my nightmare.
I opened my eyes and was greeted with pitch black.

I clawed my way out of my sleeping
bag. When the fog cleared from my head, Erika stood at the flap to
my tent, staring at my pile of hair from the night before. She
stepped in, picked up the scissors, and then looked at
me.

I sat up, running my fingers through
my hair. They hit air way too quickly.

"You certainly did a number on
yourself. Mind if I take some of it?" She bent down, sweeping my
hair into a tighter pile with her bare hands.

"Why?"

"We can add it to our mobile compost
piles. Hair takes a long time to decompose, but it is a rich source
of nitrogen."

I scooted out of my stifling hot bag,
rubbing my face. "Sure." I looked away. My eyes were puffy enough
as it was.

Erika collected all my hair in a small
canvas bag and stood. "I've got the tattoo artists. Ready for
them?"

I nodded, still turned away. Three
women entered and set up a cot in the middle of the tent. There was
barely enough room for everyone.

They put down their bags. The tallest
one stepped forward. "Hi Lucy – I'm Layla." She had a slight
accent, maybe Dutch.

I nodded my head at her.

"What you see here," she gestured to
our bags, "is the last of our ink."

Behind her, one of the women's lips
went tight. The other glanced at the bags, then
swallowed.

Layla continued. "If we do this for
you, we can no longer continue our art."

Her words hung in the air.
Behind me, Erika cleared her throat. She wanted me to say
something; she wanted me to answer the unasked question.
Why should they use the last of their ink on
me?

I looked at each of the women. None
gave away any clues as to what the right answer might
be.

Erika spoke up. "She is interested in
the prisoners."

One of the women stepped forward,
standing next to Layla now. "What business do you have with the
prisoners?" Her whole body leaned forward, her hand on her
hip.

Layla put her hand on the woman's
shoulder.

To calm her or hold her
back?
I couldn't tell. Maybe
both.

"This is Marissa," Layla said. That
was all she said, but her hand stayed on Marissa's shoulder. They
stood together, waiting for me to respond.

I looked back at Erika.
Her eyes widened only slightly.
Respond
carefully
, is what she should've said to
me.

I looked back at the
women. "I want the prisoners gone."
There,
that leaves me open to go either way.

Marissa tensed. Layla's grasp on her
shoulder tightened.

"Gone, how?" Marissa asked.

I stood, body going as tense as
Marissa's. My hands twitched at my side, ready for a
fight.

Time to
gamble
, I thought. My heart beat so hard I
could feel it in my throat. "Gone as in set free."

My eyes darted to each of the women,
even to Erika, expecting an attack. But Marissa sank back,
releasing a breath.

Layla's mouth turned up in a smile.
"Marissa's sister is being held there. But she can't get close
enough to even talk to her, much less figure out how to free
her."

My eyes flitted over to Marissa. "Have
you tried the latrine area?"

She furrowed her eyebrow.

I sighed, "Here – use this." I removed
my red arm band and tossed it to her. "It'll get you to the head
guard. His name is Clay and he is a friend of mine. Tell him Kai—"
I cleared my own throat. "Tell him Lucy sent you. He can at least
maybe give you time with your sister."

"Can I trust him?" she asked, looking
at the arm band.

"Can he trust you?"

She nodded, then slipped the arm band
on.

"He will do what needs to be done to
help your sister."

"Thank you," Marissa said. She looked
to be on the verge of tears.

She turned to leave, but Layla stopped
her. "First, we repay the debt. Okay?"

"No, no." I interrupted. "It's okay.
Let her go."

Everyone looked at me. I shrugged, "I
know what it is to be separated from family."

Layla nodded, and Marissa left after
another round of thanks.

Layla turned to the bags, "Well, let's
begin." She nodded to the other woman. "This is Sheri."

Sheri nodded. I recognized her as an
admin worker. She helped predict weather patterns. "What kind of
ink can we slap on you today?" she asked.

I sat on the cot, meeting their eyes.
"I don't care. Just keep them where people are most likely to see
them. Arms, face, neck. Maybe shoulders. That tree looks nice." I
gestured to the tattoo on Layla's upper left arm.

They both exchanged glances. "Let's
take a look." Layla reached for my hands, surveying several small
scars up my arms. "We can cover these up, if you like."

I nodded, and removed my shirt, baring
my shoulder. "What about this one?"

They peered at my back. "That one
looks too fresh."

I snorted. It was a couple of years
old, at least.

"We don't want to mess with it too
much, but we'll see what we can do."

Erika was still at the tent flap. "Can
I straighten up your hair a little? You are uneven in the
back."

"Sure."

The tattoo artists set up a makeshift
table, preparing their ink and needles. The tattoo guns were
altered to run on battery power. Thank goodness they still had
batteries for them. Erika began snipping away at my
hair.

"Do you know someone named Sabrina?" I
asked her.

"You have some sort of medical
problem?"

"More like a power
problem."

Erika turned my head. "That's what she
is good at. I'll see if I can get her here today – you'll probably
be at the mercy of these needles until dusk at least. Your debt is
starting to stack up, you know."

"I know." I sighed.

"What’s your power anyway?" She turned
my head the other way.

I froze – I hadn't though this one
through yet. I very well couldn't say all of them. Hello red flag.
No matter what I chose, they may be able to detect their own
element within me. I could always play dumb if it came to
that.

"Guess," I said.

"Well, she ain't an Air." Sheri
glanced at me. Layla agreed.

One down, three to choose
from.

Erika wasn't offering any
information.

"What are you?" I asked.

"Fire." She snipped at my hair
again.

Earth or Water, which
one?
I went with the former. "I am
Earth."

"That probably explains it," Erika
said.

"What?" I asked.

"That I can't detect your magic. I
usually can, no matter what the element. But Earths are tricky.
They operate on a lower frequency."

I thought of Susan's words, 'Earths
rarely know they possess the ability themselves.' Still – all of
them should've been able to detect their own elements within me.
Probably another side effect of my concussion. I wondered what else
my injury was shielding me from.

"Ok, ready?" Layla turned on the
ominous tattoo gun in her hand. "Back or front first?"

I lay down on my stomach.
"Back."

She started in right between my
shoulder blades while Sheri extended my left arm for an ink
bracelet on my wrist. I turned away. A few sharp stings here and
there, and my bones felt like they were vibrating, but the pain
wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected.

Erika finished cutting my hair and
went to collecting the rest. She came around to the front of the
table, opened my hand, and placed a small braided section of my
locks in it. It was tied together on both ends with a thin
ribbon.

"What's this for?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know – your
hair seemed significant to you, so I thought you might want to keep
a bit." She turned, exiting the tent. I was left to the mercy of
the tattooists.

I closed my fist around the
hair.

An hour later, Layla moved on to my
shoulder blades. Here, the pain was worse. It was four men, pulling
at each limb while Shawn carved his symbol into me all over again.
It was his knife piercing my skin, leaking its poison into my body.
I needed more of a distraction than my own thoughts – or my own
hair.

"So – how's the weather been?" I asked
Sheri. She moved from one wrist to my other.

"Weird." She pulled the gun away,
blotting blood away from my wrist. The pile of reddened rags in
front of me was growing.

"How so?"

"There is a derecho coming." She put
the gun back to my arm.

I looked away. "A derecho? Sounds like
a cowboy thing, or something."