Steam Heat by Elizabeth Darvill Page B

turned rancid and killed off a huge chunk of the population. A strange green man with the ability to speak without opening his mouth appeared with a crystal the size of a steam engine. He claimed that if it were powered by an energy source, it would keep the air pure. His only condition was that humans and the para-folk coexist in peace. President McKinley quickly agreed and appointed the man, who later said his name was simply Druson, as the vice president.
    Things evened out a bit, but the culture was forever changed. Most of the other countries ended up with the same offer from beings similar to Druson, and Tesla supplied the power source. His coils kept a constant flow of energy to the crystals—until recently. Now our crystal is dying and so will we, since immigration has been cut off. None of this was too concerning to me until I felt myself dying, slowly at first, but it is reaching an accelerated pace I can’t ignore.
    I was forced to return to the commune where I was born, a place I hadn’t visited in a very long time. When I demanded an answer from the elder of my clan as to why I felt as though I was dying, she calmly informed me I needed to find the boy whose soul I had been given half of at birth. She also very calmly told me that if I hadn’t run away, fleeing from my duty, I would have known this. And as a final insult she told me that with Ian’s energy, I would have the power to recharge the crystal. This is all too much responsibility for me, but seeing as how dying isn’t high on my list, I have few choices.
    The sound of the steamer’s whistle blowing lets me know I have reached my destination, but where Ian is is a little sketchy. I only vaguely know where Tesla’s lab is. With a sigh, I sling my satchel over my shoulder, nod to the few other passengers dozing in their seats and make my way to the platform and, I hope, a second chance at life.

 

    Chapter Three
     
    The rain is streaming down my face in a thick curtain and chilling me through. The bare limbs of the trees do little to shield me from the torrential downpour. I suppose I should be grateful we made the transition to spring so I don’t have to deal with snow. The peaks are still coated with thick blankets of snow, but since I am just in the foothills of the mountains, I have only seen an occasional lingering patch.
    My chest aches a little more with each step I take and my mood is becoming infinitely more abrasive the longer I go without a swallow of whiskey. I drained my flask about ten miles back. A twinge of hope flickers through me when I see the roof of a large building peeking through the dense trees. I don’t give a shit where I am at this point in time. I am staying here and getting something to drink. Even if the most hideous being is inside that building, I am going to have sex with them and get my fix. I don’t think I can go on without it. The energy I absorb during sex is what sustains me.
    The steps that take me closer to the looming stone building are agonizingly slow. I am going to be crawling up to the front door if things keep progressing this way. This would be a completely undignified way for me to be seen. I am a badass assassin who works as a saloon girl on the side. I am tougher than this. As I stumble up the slick stone stairs, the heavy wood door swings open slowly with an ominous creak. The face that materializes behind the curtain of rain is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it. Thank God it is a male; it will make luring him into the sack so much easier. I could really use a boost right now.
    “Are you real?” he asks, looking slightly perplexed. There is a faint drawl to his words.
    “Last time I checked. Can I come inside or are you going to make me freeze out here?” The eyes are the things that seem so familiar, those smoky hazel eyes.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I don’t feel like discussing it in the rain,” I shove the hair back from my eyes and catch his gaze with mine and