Dragon Fire

by Dina von Lowenkraft

  Rakan jumped out of his window seat. “I know that.” He landed in front of his sister. If he could’ve forced June to listen to him, he would’ve done it already.

  “Then why aren’t you doing anything?”

  “What do you think I’m doing when I’m sitting there?” He forced his rök back into control. “I watch her trail all the time. Maybe you’re the one who needs to get out. You didn’t even go to school this week.”

  The air around Dvara shimmered vermillion. She was dangerously close to going wild. “You really are naïve, aren’t you? What do you think Old Pink Eyes gave me this for?” Dvara jerked a hand at her glittering hair. “To watch me? Grow up, Rakan.” She slammed the door in his face.

  “Dvara?” Rakan reached out to open her door, but stopped when he felt her shift elsewhere. “Idiot,” he yelled and exploded her door with a back kick.

  He reconstructed Dvara’s door and sank to the couch. The silence of loneliness closed in on him, pressing into his chest. Everything was going wrong. “Anna,” he yelled at the oppressive emptiness, as if his voice would be enough to dispel it. “Anna,” he repeated, quietly, gently opening his clenched hands. “Where are you?” He let his mind run over the town and found her in her apartment. He picked up his phone and called her.

  “Hi, Pemba,” she answered, but her voice was guarded.

  “Can you come over?” his voice broke. He wasn’t far from an uncontrolled morph himself.

  Anna didn’t reply, and Rakan felt his rök threaten to break free. “I need to see you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and painfully forced his rök into submission. “Please.”

  “Okay,” she said after a pause. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Rakan heaved a sigh of relief and sank to the couch, his rök smoldering in his chest.

  * * *

  Anna stared at her phone. She wanted more than anything to be with Pemba. But she hated how he never told her what was going on. Snatched hugs here and there weren’t enough. She wanted to be close to him. But he was always pulling back. It made her think he didn’t really want to be with her. And then he’d do things like this. Call her, desperate to see her. And she couldn’t say no. She shoved her phone in her pocket. Her mom would never allow her to go over to Pemba’s. Unless she lied.

  “Was that Pemba?” asked her mom, as if on cue.

  “Yeah. He asked if I could meet him for coffee.” That was sort of true. Maybe.

  “Oh, okay. Just be home for dinner. Ulf should be here around five.”

  “Sure,” Anna said. She needed to get out and away from any further questions that would lead to more lies.

  * * *

  As soon as Anna arrived at the Tibetan House, Rakan jumped off the porch and hugged her close. She was here. He wasn’t alone anymore. His mind-touch enveloped her and he groaned when she responded. He ran his mouth on her neck, his tongue finally tasting the sensitive skin that quivered under his touch. Rakan gripped her tighter. Her taste tingled on the tip of his tongue. The smell of her warm, wet skin filled his senses, blinding him with a passion that chipped away at all of his resolves not to mate with her. He pulled her hat off and ran his hand through her hair, moaning in pleasure as he felt it slide through his fingers.

  “Pemba-la,” said Ani-la from the porch, dousing his ardor with her flow of reprimands in Tibetan.

  * * *

  Anna wrenched herself away from Pemba and looked anxiously at the woman with the shaved head who had spoken. She was dressed in burgundy and yellow robes and seemed to be scolding Pemba. But she looked too young to be his mother.

  Pemba nodded his head and took Anna’s hand. “Ani-la is the nun who lives here. She says I shouldn’t leave you outside.” Ani-la continued speaking. “She says I should’ve gotten dressed this morning,” Pemba said, translating what Ani-la was saying. “But I am dressed,” he said to Ani-la before turning back to Anna. “Come inside, you’re cold.” Pemba touched her cheek. “She’s right about that.”

  Pemba led Anna up the porch and into the house that was filled with the smell of incense. But it was more mineral than Pemba’s. Anna stopped in the entryway; she could hear people chanting from the open doorway to the room off to the left.

  Pemba turned and smiled. “It’s just the local prayer group.” He took her coat. “Leave your shoes here.” He pointed to a dozen pairs neatly lined up along the wall.

  Anna looked at Pemba’s bare feet and realized that all he had on was a pair of pants that reminded her of those worn by the black belts at the ju-jitsu club. Except Pemba’s looked like they were made of liquid metal and not stiff cotton. “Do you do martial arts?” Anna asked as Pemba led her to a sitting room that was next to the stairway at the end of the hall.

  “No. I was just… letting off some steam.” He walked over to the window that faced the tiny backyard. “We have a punching bag upstairs. In the apartment my father is renting.”

  Anna stood awkwardly in the middle of the room that was lined with ottoman-like wooden benches covered in futons, gawking at Pemba’s back. It glowed like bronze in the sunlight from the window. Pemba faced her, his muscles rippling under the surface of his smooth skin. “You smell different,” Anna said, pulling her eyes back up to meet his and nervously saying the first thing that came to mind.

  Pemba gave her an inquiring look. “How do I smell different?”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Anna said, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Again.

  “I know.” He came closer and touched her cheek. “Just tell me how it’s different.”

  Anna closed her eyes and breathed in, aching to touch his skin. “You smell like a fire that’s been put out. Usually you smell like incense. But not like the house.” Anna looked cautiously at Pemba, unsure of how he would take it. “Is that weird?”

  “No.” He inched forward. It was the smell of his rök smoldering. And it wasn’t a good sign. “I’m just surprised that you can smell it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Anna could feel the warmth radiating from his body as the distance between them closed ever so slowly. She trembled in anticipation, but he stopped before touching her. “It sometimes happens when I work out,” he said quietly, his breath caressing her face. Anna stood with her eyes closed, silently pleading for him to take her in his arms, to feel the firmness of his lips on hers, to feel his braid wrap around her as she…

  The rustling of Ani-la’s thick cotton robes jolted Anna out of her reverie. Anna escaped to the window, her cheeks burning, while Pemba took the tray Ani-la was carrying, saying something that made them both laugh. Anna turned to watch Pemba. He was different here with Ani-la. He was like a puppy, playfully getting in the way as Ani-la tried to pour the tea. But when they spoke it didn’t sound anything like the guttural language that Pemba and Dawa spoke together. Or Haakon and Torsten for that matter. Ani-la said something to Anna and gestured at the table where she had placed two small bowls. Ani-la put her hands together and bowed before backing out of the room.

  Pemba sat cross-legged on the ottoman in front of the table and beckoned for Anna to join him. She sat uneasily on the edge, her feet still on the ground. She looked around at the wall hangings depicting multicolored deities that didn’t look anything like her idea of what Buddhist paintings should look like. One in particular caught her eye, with its dark blue figure that looked like a humanoid monster surrounded by flames. He had serpents around his neck and was dressed only in a tiger skin wrapped around his loins. He felt like raw power, ready to be unleashed in a violent wrath. Pemba picked up one of the silver-lined wooden bowls and offered it to her. Anna fumbled as she tried to take the bowl without touching him. She didn’t want her cold hands to betray her nervousness.

  “What language were you speaking?” she asked, making a face at the tea. It smelled like rancid butter.

  “Tibetan.”

  “But what do you usually speak with Dawa then?”

  Pemba’s smile disappeared. “We speak Dr
aagsil. The language of our ancestors.”

  “Oh. But weren’t they Tibetan?”

  “No.” Pemba drank some tea. “Do you like it?”

  Anna tasted it and choked. “It’s awful. I mean—”

  Pemba’s laughter interrupted her. “It’s made with yak butter. And it smells like the herds.” Pemba inhaled deeply. “It’s perfect.”

  Anna smelled it again, wondering if she could smell the herds. But it was just salty and pungent. And definitely rancid. “I don’t know,” she said, not wanting to disappoint Pemba. “I guess I prefer coffee.” Without butter.

  “We can get some later.” He finished his bowl and took hers. “But this is better.”

  “If you say so.” Anna tried not to grimace as he drank her tea. “Where’s Dawa?”

  “She’s out.”

  “And your parents?”

  “They don’t stay here,” Pemba said. He put her bowl down.

  Anna stared at him blankly. “Where do they stay?”

  Pemba took her hand. “You’re cold and I said I’d teach you how to stay warm.”

  She understood from his crisp tone of voice that the subject of his parents was off limits. Confused, she looked at his Maii-a. It glinted like a treasure on his bronze-colored skin. His energy was like a coiled snake about to strike and it reminded her of the blue painting. He touched the Firemark and a searing heat flashed inside her. She didn’t know if she should run away or throw Pemba on his back and tackle him. Anna closed her eyes and gripped his hands tighter, unable to tear herself away from his naked chest that was only inches away from her… begging her to dig her nails into the undulating muscles that lined his stomach, to sink her teeth into his neck and…

  “Do you want to?” Pemba asked, his hands clutching hers.

  Anna pulled back, startled, until she realized that he meant teaching her to stay warm, not ripping him apart. “Ah, okay,” she mumbled, her blood still pounding in her tangled desires to possess him with a violence that made her distrust herself.

  Pemba smiled and turned his hands so that their palms were touching. Anna felt a tingling at the base of her neck, just like when the void had been filled the other night at the snow screen. She looked questioningly at Pemba. But he was looking out the doorway at the stairs. Suddenly several voids were being filled in rapid succession. There was a crash at the top of the stairs followed by total silence. Only one filled void was left, and it was vibrating angrily.

  “Dvara,” Pemba said, his body as tense as a panther about to pounce on his prey.

  “Dawa? I thought she was out?”

  Pemba’s attention snapped back to Anna. “She was. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Pemba bounded up the stairs, his bare feet making no noise.

  Anna stood, her whole body on edge as she watched Pemba turn out of sight at the top of the stairs. She heard him snarl something in Draagsil. There was a second crash and then Anna heard a door open and caught the sound of two people yelling at each other. And then emptiness.

  Pemba was gone.

  Anna panicked. She flew up the stairs, the wood creaking loudly under her feet. She turned and looked wildly around for any sign of Pemba. But all she saw was a shadowy figure lurking at the end of the dimly lit hallway. For a minute Anna wondered if she was seeing things. But she could clearly feel the pulsing energy that was sizzling with anger. The shadow figure, whatever it was, was real.

  “Where’s Pemba?” she yelled, but she knew without waiting for an answer that he had gone through the multi-colored door across from the shadow figure. She could feel Pemba, faintly, as if he was very far away. Or hurt. She rushed to the door, her eyes focused intently on the handle.

  The shadow person lunged at her. Anna felt a horrible wrench of cold as the shadow passed through her. She stopped, gasping in pain. The door was only inches away. The thought of Pemba pulled her onward. She stumbled forward. The door flared with stinging sparks of energy. She grasped the handle and flung herself through the doorway.

  Chapter 15

  Sparks

  AFTER ONE HORRENDOUS MOMENT OF SIZZLING pain that felt like being skinned alive, Anna stepped into the room and slammed the door behind her. There was a moment of stunned silence as three pairs of eyes fixed upon hers.

  “Why didn’t you tell her to stay where she was?” hissed Dawa.

  “I did,” snarled Pemba.

  “It doesn’t matter how she got here,” said the last person Anna would have expected to encounter in Pemba and Dawa’s rooms. “She’s here.”

  Torsten’s indigo eyes bore into hers, making her vision blur. But she didn’t have to see him clearly to know it was the man she had met at the snow screen with June and Haakon. And for one mistaken moment thought was Pemba. “Torsten,” Anna said, clutching the doorknob behind her back.

  “Torsten? Who’s Torsten?” said Dawa, spinning to face Anna in a flash of red.

  “Let me see your arm,” said Torsten. He moved towards Anna. “You’re hurt.”

  “Don’t touch her,” hissed Dawa, blocking his way. “Let Pemba do it.”

  Anna felt Pemba’s mind-touch wrap around her even before he had touched her, gently washing over the pain that gnawed her flesh like the embers of a fire. Anna sighed in relief as the pain receded, leaving only the pulsing memory of its passage.

  “How do you do that?” she asked, seeking refuge in his arms.

  He nuzzled her hair. “You should’ve stayed downstairs.”

  “You disappeared,” she answered, choking on her own words. She buried her face in his neck. “You smell like you again.” She breathed in his deliciously spicy smell that made her forget everything else. Almost. She pulled herself together and sought Pemba’s eyes. “What is that shadow thing?”

  “What shadow thing?”

  “You saw Kariaksuq?” interrupted Torsten. “She should have been invisible to you.”

  Anna’s attention snapped back to Torsten. “What are you doing here?”

  “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” said Torsten calmly, his face unreadable. “We’ve never met.”

  Anna glared at Torsten. She’d recognize the intense fizzy pattern of his energy anywhere.

  “This is my boyfriend, Tenzin,” said Dawa, linking her arm through Torsten’s, but the tension between them was anything but romantic. “He just showed up this morning.” Dawa’s voice was accusing as she glared at Torsten. “He’s supposed to be in Tibet.”

  “Well, girlfriend,” said Torsten, pulling Dawa against his chest with a determined grin. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

  “I’m still free to do what I want,” retorted Dawa, struggling to get out of his arms.

  Torsten held her tighter. “Are you?” he asked, his voice dark with barely controlled anger. “I’m not so sure.”

  “Uh, maybe we should go downstairs,” Anna said, nudging Pemba.

  “No, stay here,” said Dawa. “We’ll go to my room. Unless you have any objections, Tenzin?”

  “It will be my pleasure to have you alone,” said Torsten in a way that sent icy shivers down Anna’s back.

  Pemba called out to his sister in Draagsil as she stormed to her room. She turned and rolled her eyes. “Stop worrying, Pemba. I won’t hurt him.”

  The silence that descended once the door was shut underscored the tension that had raged between Torsten and Dawa.

  “Is she going to be okay?” asked Anna. She glanced at Dawa’s door.

  “I think so.” Pemba cupped her face. “Are you?”

  Anna nodded and held back the tears that welled up. Pemba pulled her in close and she lost it. “I couldn’t feel you anymore,” she barely managed to croak through her sobs.

  “My feeling only faded,” Pemba said gently. “There’s a shield on our rooms.”

  “Because of Kariaksuq?” Anna stiffened at the thought.

  “No. T’eng—, ah, Tenzin did it to protect Dawa from other… suitors.”

  “But… that’s lik
e living in a cage. Isn’t she free to choose?”

  “I don’t know anymore.” Pemba leaned his head on hers. “And I don’t want to think about it right now.” He wrapped his mind-touch around her and she floated in it until the cobalt blue light of the late afternoon brought her back down to Earth.

  “I should probably go,” she said, snuggling in closer to Pemba. “My mother is expecting me for dinner.”

  “Not until Kariaksuq leaves. I don’t want her to know where you live.”

  “But then how am I going to go home?”

  “She’ll leave with Tenzin.”

  Anna felt her blood drop to her feet. Torsten already knew where she lived.

  Pemba glanced at his sister’s door. “They seem to have cooled off a bit. He’ll probably leave soon.”

  Anna looked anxiously at Dawa’s door and tried to hear what was going on. But all she could hear was her own shallow breathing.

  “I can protect you,” Pemba whispered. He put both hands on her face and searched her eyes. “If you’ll let me.”

  Anna looked into Pemba’s eyes that had taken on an orange hue in the fading light. “What is Kariaksuq?”

  Pemba dropped his hands. He walked over to the window that had multicolored Tibetan prayer flags hanging across the top. “I can’t tell you that, Anna.” He turned to face her. “But I promise you that I will when this is over. If you still want me to.”

  “When what is over?” Anna asked, a sick feeling weighing in her gut.

  “Anna,” he said, coming back and taking her hands. “Can you just trust me enough to let me shield you, please?” He rubbed her Firemark. “Even if you don’t know why? Kariaksuq is bad enough, but her master is worse. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.”

  Anna wavered. She could feel the power rippling through Pemba’s sculpted body and had a sudden feeling that he didn’t just work out the way most guys did. He didn’t practice a martial art, he trained to fight. She looked at his hands. They were soft and supple, and yet they could probably rip someone apart. And maybe already had. Anna looked back up into Pemba’s pleading eyes. His need to protect her was palpable. As was his need for her to trust him. And yet he still couldn’t trust her enough to tell her what was going on.