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  Elementally Priceless

  SHANNON MAYER

  Table of Contents

  ELEMENTALLY PRICELESS

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO BY SHANNON MAYER

  Copyright

  Elementally Priceless, A Rylee Adamson Novella

  Copyright © Shannon Mayer 2014

  All rights reserved

  Published by HiJinks Ink Publishing, Ltd.

  www.shannonmayer.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of the copyright and the above publishers.

  Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Or deliberately on purpose, depending on whether or not you have been nice to the author.

  Original Cover Art by Damon Za

  Mayer, Shannon

  Chapter 1

  Rylee

  I TRAILED MY fingers down the side of the crumpled missing person poster, taking in the hard feel of weathered paper. That was one of the downsides of Bismarck, North Dakota. Weather wasn’t exactly kind, regardless of season, and tended to age everything. Paper and people included. About half dozen pictures plastered the board, young and old alike, but this one poster—I couldn’t take my eyes from it.

  The edges crinkled, curling with age, and the picture was faded, but I still saw the kid in the center.

  Jonathan Aaron Black. Age 10. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. Missing over 2 years. Mentally incapacitated, needs medication. Please contact family if found. $25,000 for information leading to his recovery.

  I stared at his photocopied eyes, the way they crossed and the dull level of apathy behind them. This was the one I wanted to go after, my heart tugged at me to find him, and take him home.

  Giselle, my mentor, warned me not to tackle any “salvages” on my own. Shit, her voice always echoed in my head. Always warning me, always cautioning me.

  “Rylee, finding missing children; those are the most dangerous salvages. You don’t know the reason they were taken. And you don’t have the experience to know an easy case from a complicated or perilous one.”

  But I wanted to bring all of them home; those lost ones needed someone to champion them. And for me, being accused of murdering my younger sister and hiding her body, made it that much more important to bring at least some families back together.

  All I had was my ability to Track. An innate talent that manifested when I was sixteen. I could find anyone, anywhere, no matter how far away they were. Even if they were dead. My sister was the only one I couldn’t find, the only one I would never bring home, and that fact ate at my soul and drove me harder than any taskmaster could.

  As far as I knew, I was the only Tracker around, which made learning the ropes interesting. But for me, it was more than that. Tracking missing kids gave me the chance to make right what I couldn’t in my own life. A shudder of guilt and sorrow rippled through me, stealing my breath.

  I shook those thoughts away. Don’t dwell on the past, not now.

  My finger traced the words in front of me, pausing over the monetary amount. The money would be a bonus. At nineteen, I was tired of being dependent on Giselle for everything. The last three years had been rough, and I wanted to start living my own life. Giselle had come to my rescue when my own family turned on me, believing the worst of me. She wasn’t related by blood, but she was the only family I had. One of the few I truly trusted.

  Besides, Giselle wasn’t with me and couldn’t stop me from going on this salvage. A smile curled my lips. Using my one natural talent, I sent out a mental thread, Tracking and trying to connect with young Jonathan’s essence. At the very least I would know if he was alive. That was the beauty of my ability. No matter how far away someone was, I could find them.

  Milly, my best friend with eyes as green as spring grass—who also happened to be the other girl Giselle mentored, once said I was a psychic bloodhound. Even though I got into a wrestling match with her over that title, it was kinda accurate. Alive or dead, and I much preferred alive, I could find anyone I had a name and a picture for.

  At least anyone who wasn’t my sister.

  Young Jonathan would be no different than the other people I’d Tracked. Though to be fair, after missing for two years, I didn’t think I’d get a heartbeat back on him.

  I was shocked as shit when not only did I get a heartbeat, but a strong directional pull. Far to the southwest, the kid was alive and well from the energy flowing along the threads to me. Which meant not only could he be found, I could take him home to his parents.

  “Fucking awesome,” I whispered, smiling to myself as I pulled the aged poster from the grocery store board. Giselle wasn’t home, off on some self-interpretation thing I had no interest in, and Milly had gone to some guy’s place for the weekend. My grin got wider. Giselle would never even know.

  My first solo salvage. This would prove I was good enough to go out on my own.

  Heart pounding, I fought not to run home. Already my mind raced ahead to the salvage. I needed my weapons, cash, and change of clothes. The only problem was I had no mode of transportation.

  But I would figure that out. How, I didn’t know, but I knew something would work out.

  I ran up the steps to the three-story older style house I called home. Even though it was really Giselle’s place; it had become a refuge for me. My room was on the top floor and I burst in, packing a bag as fast as I could. The only weapons I had were a single sword that I strapped to my back, two short knives I tucked into the tops of my boots, and a Swiss army knife I stuck into my back pocket.

  I closed my eyes, took a long slow breath, and continued to Track Jonathan, keeping a tight hold on his threads. He was still there, southwest. I couldn’t get a better bead than that.

  In June, as hot as North Dakota was, heading southwest would only make it hotter. The sword strapped to my back was easily visible, and wearing a jacket to cover it would not only make my life miserable, but could make people stare. That put taking the bus on the ‘not happening’ list. Low profile was key when it came to salvages. The last thing I needed was someone reporting me to the police. I cringed at the very possibility.

  The sound of a familiar rumbling engine caught my ear and I peered out my window. My heart hammered at the sight of the lean body of one seriously cute neighbor as my thoughts about rescuing Jonathan scattered.

  Sure, said neighbor was five or six years older, but hell, a blind woman would stare. Even a saint would drool.

  And I was no saint.

  At just over six feet tall, with the body of a freaking Adonis, Caleb was pretty much any woman’s dream and I was no exception. Dirty blond hair and eyes I thought might be a stormy gray (I’d never actually gotten close enough to see) he had a way of smiling that melted knees and ice alike. At that m oment, he was standing in his front drive, without a shirt on, his tanned muscles flexing and catching the summer sun in a very appealing fashion as he fiddled with the engine on his motorbike.

  I had enough cash on me for gas if someone would be willing to let me borrow their ride. Or maybe even drive me to where Jonathan waited. Caleb could come in seriously handy.

  As a mode of transportation, of course; nothing more. Of course, it would depend on me being able to convince him to help me.

  Gripping the edge of the window, I stared at him. If I were Milly, I’d just sashay over there, thrust out my boobs, and have the bike keys in a matter of seconds. But I’d never been much of a boob thruster. Never mind the fact my eyes swirled with three very distinct colors and tended to freak people out when they got a good look at me. Milly with her long dark hair and spring green eyes would have been a serious asset in getting what I wanted from Caleb.

  So the question was how the hell could I get him to lend me his bike without Milly?

  An idea began to form and I didn’t question it, just ran out of my room barely remembering to grab my bag as I went. If I thought about what I was doing, I might chicken out, and Jonathan needed me.

  Glancing once to make sure no cars were coming, I jogged across the street before my nerve left. “Hey, Caleb.”

  He turned and I fought to keep breathing, reminding myself this was so I could help a kid who’d been missing for two years. Jonathan needed me to be strong, not some silly schoolgirl crushing on her neighbor. I took a slow breath and held it for a second before letting it out.

  “Hey. You’re Milly’s sister, right?”

  Close enough.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know you knew her.” I tightened my grip on my bag, my hands sweating.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Everyone knows Milly.”

  Something in his voice made me bristle. Sure, Milly was a bit on the boy crazy side, but she was only seventeen. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him, and then remembered I was supposed to be playing nice. Softening my eyes and my voice, I did my best to sound sweet.

  “Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to give me a ride. I can pay for the gas, but it’s kinda urgent.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You need a ride somewhere? Where’s Giselle?”

  “She’s out of town this weekend.”

  With a slow, perusing affect, he stared at my face. Maybe he wondered if I was lying.

  Or maybe he was checking me out. I was hoping for the latter.

  I’m not proud to admit that I blushed, seriously badly blushed, felt the heat all the way from my toes to the top of my head. Forcing the words out, I’m proud to say I didn’t lie. “Yeah. I have a friend who’s in a bit of trouble and I need to get to him as soon as possible.”

  Caleb frowned and bent to polish a spot on his bike that I was pretty sure didn’t need it. “Sorry. I don’t do the whole taxi thing. Not even for a pretty girl.”

  “I’ll give you a thousand dollars when it’s all said and done.” The words burst out of me and I hoped I was right. That I’d have a thousand dollars to give him. It was only after I said it that I realized he’d called me pretty.

  He stood back and eyed me up and down, as if suddenly I had his interest, even if it was just for the cash. “You don’t have that kind of money.”

  The truth of his interest stung. “My friend has that kind of money. You don’t even have to stay with me, just drop me off and then you can come home, and I’ll get you your fucking money when I get back.”

  His eyes popped wide when I said ‘fucking’, and I took careful note to try not to curse around him. Some people couldn’t handle my mouth, but I couldn’t help it. The words just kinda spilled out of me. My mouth had gotten even worse since I’d discovered my ability to Track.

  Caleb’s eyes traveled up and down my legs and I realized he was checking me out. “How far away is your friend? For a thousand dollars, he isn’t the next county over.”

  Hmm. Pretty and smart. Gotta like that in a man.

  Get a hold of yourself, Rylee! He was just pissing you off!

  “Southwest. He’s a ways out there.” I really wished my Tracking ability could give me more than that, but it was vague, the directions only becoming clearer as I got closer to the kid. “I’m guessing a day’s drive one way.”

  Please let me be right about that.

  “You’ll pay for the gas?”

  I nodded, hope blooming. “And an extra thousand when I get back, like I said.”

  His lips curled upward into that heart-stopping smile I’d only ever caught on the peripheral. He reached out and tugged a strand of my long, auburn hair forward. “You are intriguing, Milly’s sister. Very different from her. Just as pretty, but a tad bit on the tough side.” That last bit was under his breath and I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear him, so I ignored it.

  I swallowed hard. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

  “A damsel in distress, a mystery to unravel, a road trip on a beautiful summer weekend. Sounds like fun.” Laughing, he picked up his shirt and slid it over his head. For a moment, I was disappointed, but then recalled this was not a romantic trip. Nope.

  This was work.

  And I had a kid to save.

  Chapter 2

  Lark

  “LARK, I’M TELLING you, something weird is coming. No, more than weird. Dangerous.” The fairy fluttered around my head despite the fact my forge was going at full tilt, the coal fire within the belly of it red hot, and my work shop was cooking. He ruffled my long blonde hair with his passing, daring to dart low over my cleavage to get my attention. Of course he wouldn’t think of touching my sweat slicked skin, no matter how badly he craved salt. Even he wasn’t that brassy.

  This was not the first doomsday prophecy my alcoholic little friend had given with a message of ‘bad shit on the horizon.’ A part of me was waiting for him to start singing “Bad moon rising.” For him, 70’s music from the human world was damn near prophetic.

  He darted around my head, zigzagging and dodging sparks that spit out of the two foot by two foot home made metal forge as the material inside heated. Ten inches tall with a long white braid that fell to his heels, he had wings reminiscent of a monarch butterfly, all gold and black. Of course, he only hung out with me because his own people wouldn’t let him back in their fairy mound until he apologized for mooning the queen and pissing on her leg.

  Yeah, he wasn’t exactly in their good books at the moment. I still didn’t know how he got away with his wings, let alone his head, intact. I knew the queen well, we’d worked together years ago. She was almost as hardened as me.

  Almost.

  Not that I had a much better reputation with my people. Nope, a couple of outcasts like us really didn’t have the room to point fingers and call names.

  The nickname ‘the Destroyer’ didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of friends. And yes, I really did earn the name.

  I rolled the hammer handle in my right hand, flipping it to the rounded edge. I worked the raw steel at a bright orange and the glow lit my workshop. “Fine. Something weird is coming, Tomasen.” I used his full name, knowing he hated it, as I held the steel with the tongs and brought the hammer down, thinning the material. Every once in a while I got the urge to make something specific. And for some reason, today it was a sword. Not for me, but someone else.

  “You never listen to me,” Tom grumped, floating up to sit on a special perch I made him. Not iron, but silver. Just like the old tales, iron didn’t sit well with the delicate fairy folk. He tried to get me to make it out of gold.

  I’d told him to kiss my ass.

  “You’re always drunk, you little fairy shart. Hard to tell when you are actually giving advice, or just deep in your cups.” I didn’t take my eyes from the task at hand. Not a good idea to get distracted when dealing with thousands of degrees of heat and heavy tools. The burns on my arms proved that was a poor idea even on a good day.

  I didn ’t want to admit to him that I actually agreed with his assessment. The winds had shifted, and even here in Death Valley, things could change the world around us. The beauty of being an elemental connected to the Earth was that I sensed those changes long before they happened. Right now, the Earth whispered someone important was coming my way.

  Someone I needed to meet and who needed to meet me. Interesting. The last time I’d gotten this wave of certainty had been over twenty years ago and it landed me on the outs with my people. Not that I cared, they were a bunch of twats with sticks up their asses, who the hell wanted to fit in with that?

  Gritting my teeth, I shoved the steel back into the forge to get the heat up.

  “Wait, I see it on your face! You know I’m right.” Tom flew higher, his wings catching an updraft from the forge. His bug eyes sparkled, knowing he caught me. I let out a sigh and finally nodded.

  “Yes, someone, or several someone’s are coming our way. I don’t know who, but She has given me the heads up.” We didn’t use the Earth’s real name, it was considered sacrilege, and though the humans thought her name was Gaia, it wasn’t her true name. She didn’t mind, though, as long as we respected her.

  “Sweet. I was right!” He thrust a hand into the air and floated down to stand on top of my head. His feet dug into my scalp, tiny toes tipped with claws that I wasn’t particularly fond of.

  “Get the hell off my head.” I flicked my tongs toward him, as my senses tingled around me. I cloaked myself in a swath of darkness that hid my face and identity from those who would do me harm. It slid over me a split second before a new voice broke the air.

  “An elemental swatting at one of those they are assigned to protect? That seems a tad ironic, doesn’t it?” The deep rumble of a voice I knew and had hoped I would never deal with again curled around me. I kept my back straight, anger flaring along my synapses. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, the real me, I hated to face him. The camouflage on me looked like a heavy cloak, one that hid my blonde hair, womanly shape and even muffled my voice. My eyes, though, I knew they would glow through. One green, the other amber; they were all this interloper would see. Hell, with my current task of hammering out steel, he likely didn’t even know I was a girl.