Drowning in Fire

by Hanna Martine

  “I need to explain?” He was shouting now. “There is one thing the Senatus is about, and that’s solidarity. Consensus. You know this. And yet you rise up out of the ground and declare the Earth in danger if Keko so much as breathes on this Fire Source. You cut a deal to allow us to go after her and hopefully keep the peace with the Chimerans. You know you’ll have a chance at her if Griffin fails. And you attack her anyway.”

  Dread and rage twisted through her, but she drew herself up as tall as the diminutive body would allow. “I did no such thing.”

  The premier shook his head in disbelief and turned to rest both palms on the edge of his desk. “Trust is a tenuous thing, Aya. Especially among Secondaries.”

  All this human emotion warred inside her—fear and anger, concern and confusion—and she didn’t know how to keep them separate. Or even if she should. “You forget. The Children of Earth are the ones who approached the Airs and the Chimerans to begin the Senatus many centuries ago. We are invested in its success and don’t want to compromise it. Now tell me what happened.”

  He inhaled long and slow through his nose as he regarded her. “Got a call from Griffin a couple hours ago. Pissed off as all hell. Said a Child of Earth attacked them when they were nowhere near the Source. Something about a tree coming to life.”

  “Keko. Is she—”

  “Alive.”

  Aya held in the massive sigh she desperately wanted to release.

  The premier pushed off the desk. “Griffin wants assurances he’ll have his chance. Then you can have yours. As you originally agreed.”

  She raised her voice, indignant. “Absolutely. I gave no other orders to contradict what was said around the bonfire. I’ve kept my word.”

  The premier eyed her hard. “Then which one of you diggers didn’t?”

  She was just starting to get a hold on the concept of Aboveground insults, but she was pretty sure the premier had just handed her one. There was no time to dwell on it now. Fix the problem in Hawaii first, or else smoothing over a little name-calling would be the least of her issues.

  There were two possibilities behind the attack on Griffin and Keko. The Father, who could have given an order to another Child of Earth behind her back. Or Nem, guardian of the Source, who’d been so clearly angry with her on the Aran Islands.

  The Father wasn’t that crafty.

  She had to find Nem. Fast.

  FOURTEEN

  An hour later and Keko still hadn’t come back. It was all the time Griffin was willing to allow before he knew he had to go after her. Before he began to think that maybe she actually had memorized enough of the star map to try to find her own way. Before he started to fear that the Son of Earth had found a way to come back.

  Which scared him more? Her trying to give him the slip again? Or another threat to her safety?

  Locking up the room, he pounded down the porch steps and headed for the row of connected shops a quarter mile up the road. The rain had transformed into giant drops that hit him like bombs.

  At home in San Francisco, when he listened to Ofarian issues, he had to be prudent about which emotions he displayed, and when and how. But here, alone and worrying about Keko after all that had happened between them—and all that had shifted and changed in the last few days—he threw away his guards and let himself feel.

  She tended to do that to him.

  The row of shops were lined with a boardwalk out front, a closed ice cream parlor capping one end, a long-shuttered theater in the middle, and a bar at the far end. A tourist trinket shop and an artist’s studio were dark for the evening. The pub was open, however, acoustic guitar music trickling out to mix with the rain, and Griffin headed toward it.

  A blast of heat and fire and magic assaulted his mind and took over his senses.

  The whole front and one side of the bar were windows, all thrown open to the salty air, the eaves long and deep enough to keep out the wet. The place was small, the short bar to the right with a glaringly lit kitchen just behind it, a ledge and stools lining the two walls of windows. Three old men sat at the bar with glasses of beer.

  Keko sat at the ledge overlooking the ocean, bare feet hooked over the rungs of her stool, one finger toying with the straw in her can of ginger ale, and two wrapped hamburgers sitting untouched at her elbow.

  She’d told him once, sitting in that hotel room bed, that she didn’t drink. She didn’t like how it stole her awareness. That said a great deal about her, now that he thought about it. The watchful warrior, always at the ready.

  She hadn’t ditched him again. And she was safe.

  Keko didn’t even notice him until he slid a hand onto the ledge near the burgers and said, “Hey.”

  She blinked up at him in surprise. “Hey.” Peering into the corner where a neon clock hung above a faded, curling nineties-era beer poster, she asked, “What time is it?”

  “Not that late. But you left over an hour ago. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Sorry.” She nudged the hamburger closer to him.

  He pulled out the stool next to her and perched on the edge, not taking the food. The wind off the ocean felt nice. Fragrant flowering bushes just outside filled the bar with a sweet scent. Beyond the ever-present line of clouds that clung to the shoreline, he could see the stars trying to inch closer to land.

  “No, you’re not,” he said.

  “You thought I’d taken off.”

  “I worried you might try.”

  She turned her face to the ocean and the breeze pushed her hair in a long stream behind her. “I’ve been sitting here considering it. Considering a lot of things.”

  He was dumbstruck by her profile, how so fucking beautiful and so completely strong it was. “Like?”

  “How I don’t like this.”

  “Don’t like what?”

  “This . . . this . . .” Her hand hovered over her chest, her fingers wiggling. “Doubt. Wondering. Questioning.”

  “Ah, I see. That’s what most people call ‘thinking things through.’”

  “It sucks.”

  “You’re used to just acting. Making a quick decision and going for it. Balls out. All in. No turning back.”

  Her almond eyes assessed him but she did not deny any of that, because she knew he was right.

  “The stars are out,” she said, still looking only at his face.

  “They are.”

  “Does your vow still hold?”

  He tried not to let his—trepidation? Curiosity?—show. “Always.”

  She inhaled but it wasn’t of the Chimeran kind. She ran the heels of her hands up and down her thighs. “None of this is about my honor. At least, not anymore.”

  “That’s what you said before, that it wasn’t about you.”

  “It started out that way, partly. I wanted to restore my status and rise above the ali’i. I thought I could get back at Chief. But there’s another reason—a bigger reason—and it’s become the only thing that matters to me now. If I tell you, it’s because I want what you can give me. If I tell you, it’s because you can help me help my people.”

  “Your people?”

  She ignored him. “I don’t know how to sort this all out on my own, so I’m asking my faith to carry one hell of a burden.”

  “Faith means a lot to you. It won’t let you down.”

  Neither will I, he longed to say but didn’t. Because how could he be sure that he wouldn’t? How could he finally learn her true goal, give her the location of the Source as he’d vowed, and then prevent her from reaching it?

  He had to physically bite back his anguish, the burn of it making his chest feel hot and tight.

  Tell me, he silently begged. Don’t tell me.

  Keko inhaled again. “Chief has lost his magic.”

  The words blurted out of her mouth and hit the ledge between
them, leaving him as cold as the hamburger sitting there. The rain stopped suddenly, as if someone had turned off a faucet.

  “What?” he finally managed to sputter out.

  As she chewed her lip, he realized he’d never seen her struggle with words this much. Like her actions, she’d always just . . . spoken. “It’s some sort of disease. It stole his magic. He can feel it inside but he can’t bring it out. And I guess he’s not alone. Apparently it’s hit other Chimerans, too. I don’t know who exactly, but it doesn’t matter. Our magic is everything. Fire means honor and life. You know that.”

  “Jesus, Keko—”

  “If I can get to the Source, if I can tap into the pure, raw magic there and bring it back to the valley, I can cure them. I know I can.”

  Griffin had to hold fast to the ledge to keep from tipping sideways. The whole island seemed like it was flipping end over end.

  “So you see,” she was saying, “it truly isn’t about me. I almost brought them to war, Griffin. Over my own stupid fucking broken heart. I shamed them when I shamed myself. I made a mess, and I need to clean it up. I owe this to them, to bring back what they’ve lost. And if I die trying, well, then that’s what the Queen wills. At least I tried. At least I tried to make it right with them.”

  He just sat there, feeling carved hollow, pulled inside out. This changed . . . everything.

  He rubbed his chin. “You made me think—”

  “I had to,” she said. “If it were just Chief, I would have shouted his weakness across the valley and challenged him right then and there. But this disease is affecting others, innocents. I couldn’t tell anyone else in the clan where I was going or why, or it would’ve compromised the infected and brought them dishonor when they’ve been so good at hiding their disability.” She shook her head. “When I left the valley I had power on my mind. I wanted to be followed and respected again, and the only way to do that was to become ali’i. Bigger than the Queen, even. Now . . .”

  He edged closer. “You still want that, Keko. You’ve always wanted it, but now your motives are truly honorable. Before, it was just a name.”

  She searched his face for a long moment, and he heard her unspoken question.

  “Yes.” He nodded ardently. “Yes. Your purpose, what you just told me, is honorable. It might be the most honorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

  It hurt to say, because barely an hour ago he’d reassured the premier he’d still bring Keko in.

  So much of what had happened at the Senatus and later in the chief’s house now clicked into place. And so little of it he could actually tell her. With a growl of frustration, he shoved his hands into his hair. “I thought that the chief was acting weird. Like his mouth was telling me one thing—to go after you and stop you—but his eyes were saying just the opposite. I couldn’t figure it out.”

  Her laugh was tinged with disgust. “I don’t think he’s figured it out either. He wants desperately to be cured, but he also doesn’t want to be shamed and deposed, which he thinks will happen if I return to the valley with the Source. He knows he can’t have his magic back and still be ali’i. He’s constantly looking over his shoulder, I bet, wondering when and how he’ll be called out.”

  Griffin had seen all of that in the chief’s demeanor.

  “If I go back with the Source,” Keko continued, “he’s cured but I’ve also proved myself above him. There’s a greater chance I won’t make it, but he knows me too well, knows what kind of Chimeran I am. That I don’t accept failure. He’s more scared of my success, so that’s why he’s having me stopped. Because he also knows I won’t say anything about the disease if it compromises innocents. This is his way of winning, of holding me down and keeping his own lying ass out of the Common House.”

  Yeah, all that seemed correct. There was something else, of course, something Griffin couldn’t tell Keko: that the chief had been all but forced to agree with the Senatus. There was no way Chief could’ve gone against Aya when she’d burst from the ground spouting doomsday predictions. There was no way he could’ve gone against the premier either. Revealing his illness and Keko’s true cause would have compromised his position within his clan and also around the bonfire.

  Griffin suspected that deep down the chief really did want Keko to succeed because she would cure him and because she wouldn’t ever expose the blameless Chimerans or him. He thought he would win either way.

  No longer, though. Not with the Senatus behind her retrieval. That had been the origin of the anguish Griffin had detected.

  Fuck, it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.

  Then he remembered a certain detail. “You know, I thought the chief’s signature felt weak, but I just assumed it was because he was standing next to Bane. Your brother and you, I think you both have some serious power.”

  She eyed him strangely. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Bane was with this other Chimeran—a shorter guy with a tattoo covering one shoulder?—and Bane’s signature almost knocked me out, but the other guy’s was barely more than a whisper.”

  One hand covered her mouth. Her obsidian eyes went wide as she, too, realized what he’d just inadvertently revealed. “Ikaika. Holy shit. Ikaika, too.”

  “Yeah, that was his name. He’s one of the sick ones?”

  She shoved off the stool and it clattered to the tile behind her. One thumb went into her mouth and she chewed on the nail, her eyes on the floor. “He’s got to be. And Bane must know about it.”

  Griffin rubbed his forehead. “But if Bane doesn’t know about the chief—”

  Keko waved a frustrated hand. “Bane doesn’t give a shit about Chief. He’s general. He’s Chimeran and he’s like me. He wants to be ali’i so he wants our uncle gone.”

  “So that’s why he told me to help you.”

  Her head snapped up. “He . . . what?”

  Griffin leaned down and righted her stool, patting the seat, though she didn’t take it. “I told you the truth, that he wanted me to come after you, but there’s more. He pulled me aside separately, told me he didn’t care what the chief or the Senatus said, that he wanted me to help you get to the Source and bring back the magic. I get it now. He wanted me to help him throw over your ali’i.”

  “No.” She sat slowly, her eyes dancing back and forth in thought. “He’s doing it for Ikaika. He wants me to cure Ikaika.”

  “Why—oh.”

  The embrace of the two men, the way they’d touched, witnessed through the grimy window of that convenience store, came back to Griffin.

  “I think he wanted me to do it for you, too,” Griffin added. “To make sure you’re safe.”

  Keko shook her head at the ceiling. “That’s not how the Chimeran world works, Griffin. I’m a threat to him. I always have been.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Look how you’ve changed.”

  She recoiled at that, like personal change was evil.

  “You have,” he asserted. “And yeah, maybe Bane wants his lover cured and maybe he wants to see the chief go down in the process, but he’s still your brother. I saw his face. He wants you to succeed and he wants you back in the valley alive.”

  Hands on her knees, she took a breath and leaned forward. “Now do you understand what I have to do? And why?”

  He did. Oh, how he did. Because it was exactly the same thing he would have done for his own people. And she wasn’t even their leader.

  A surge of emotion washed over him, took him under. He was helpless against it, flailing, gasping for air. Drowning in her.

  He must have been wearing an odd expression, because Keko suddenly flared with rage, a wave of heat exploding out of her. “You gave me your word, Griffin. You use this against me or the Chimerans and this time I will come after you.”

  Reaching out, he took her face in his hands. She tried to fight him off at first
, but he dug into her hair, finding the back of her skull, and brought her to him for a kiss. A tender, swift meeting of the lips that had less to do with passion and more with promise. She stiffened, understanding.

  When he drew back, a profound look of shock transformed her face.

  “You are amazing,” he whispered.

  Not a day ago, he’d thought her foolish and suicidal and selfish. Beautiful and desirable and . . . his . . . but still all of those things.

  She blinked under the shadow of those words, then cleared her throat. “And you have something I need.”

  He did, didn’t he? Going to the bar, he asked the bartender for a piece of paper and pen, and a map of Hawaii. The silver-haired, leather-faced man handed him a ratty tourist map marred by brown coffee cup circles.

  “Come with me,” he told Keko. “And bring those burgers. I’m starving.”

  They walked in silence away from the lights of the bar and the tiny town center, chowing on the cold burgers that tasted like ambrosia, heading down to the edge of the land where a rickety fence half-heartedly kept people from falling over the side. He could hear the ocean far below but could not see it.

  The stars threw a billowing blanket over their heads, and he knew each and every one. Kneeling before a bench, he spread out the Hawaiian island map and took up the pen and paper.

  Keko crowded him on one side, peering over his shoulder. Her breathing quickened.

  An image of Aya came to him, of her emerging from the ground, horror on her humanlike face and words of doom and destruction on her tongue.

  Great stars, what had he done, making these bargains with Aya and then with Keko? What the hell was he about to do by giving Keko the key to triggering a potential natural disaster? Why was he about to send her right back into the violent arms of the Children of Earth?

  Because of her purpose. That damned honorable purpose that he understood so well.

  His mind reeled with doubt and confusion. Then he realized that by deciphering the map tonight she wouldn’t be waltzing into the Source right at that very moment. It was far away and it would take some finagling to reach it. That would give him some time to work shit out. And he would. He would figure everything out—how to let Keko heal her people, how to appease Aya and the Senatus, how to protect the Earth—but right now . . .