Ember's Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  “You know I have concerns,” Quinn said to Erik. He pulled the metal from the fire and hammered it on his anvil, finding satisfaction in how readily it took the shape in his mind. After half a dozen blows, he returned it to the fire to heat again.

  “As do I,” Erik admitted.

  “I had a prophecy this morning,” Sara said, then showed the piece of paper to Erik.

  “You dreamed it?” he asked, but she shook her head.

  “I saw it. Written on a mirror, in letters of flames.”

  Erik glanced in surprise at Quinn, who shook his head. “I couldn’t see it.”

  “A Firedaughter,” Erik mused as he read, then looked again at Quinn. “Do you know anything of such a creature?”

  “My father mentioned them. He seemed wary of witches who could become flames.”

  “Who is the Pyr?” Sara asked.

  “It’s Brandon.” Erik paused. “Brandt’s son.”

  Quinn pulled the iron from the fire again and hammered it with force. “I thought Brandt didn’t want anything to do with us.”

  Erik smiled. “For a long time, you didn’t want anything to do with us. Surely you can understand a change of heart?”

  “So, it’s Brandt asking for us to help?” Quinn shoved the iron back into the fire.

  Erik exhaled. “No. He and his son are still estranged. I already sent Sloane.”

  The Apothecary was a good Pyr, and Quinn didn’t want to leave him exposed to any threat. Brandt would have been easier to decline.

  Still, he was concerned. “Can you see the future?” Quinn asked, referring to Erik’s gift of foresight.

  “Not enough of it for my taste,” Erik admitted, then frowned. “It’s the darkfire. It muddles everything. I think, perhaps, it introduces more possibilities and instability.”

  Quinn pulled the metal from the fire again and returned to his anvil. Another half a dozen blows, and he had flattened it to a circle like a platter. Erik and Sara watched with interest as he returned it to the fire. When it was heated again, Quinn worked the perimeter, creating what looked like the bronze mirror of an ancient princess.

  Erik nodded in approval and admiration. “Your prowess grows daily.”

  “It’s not done yet,” Quinn said, shoving it back into the fire again. “But it should be done enough to serve your purpose.”

  Erik caught his breath in sudden understanding. “You want me to scry with it.”

  “I need to know about the safety of Sara and the boys if I come.” Quinn looked Erik in the eye. “There can be no doubt.”

  Quinn knew that Erik’s integrity was beyond question and that he could believe whatever Erik told him. He hauled the metal from the fire and pivoted so that he held it before Erik. Sara stepped forward, holding Ewan close.

  Erik straightened, keeping his hand on Garrett’s dark head. There was no need to hold the boy back; the next Smith understood the power of fire. Garrett’s eyes were round as he watched the pair of them.

  Erik leaned closer and his gaze danced over the cooling surface. Quinn saw the marvel light his eyes and knew he’d been right about this piece.

  He’d give it to Erik when it was done.

  “The mates and children are not at risk,” Erik said with finality.

  “Mates?” Sara echoed, and Erik looked up at Quinn.

  “I would not ask you to undertake this quest alone.”

  So Erik thought Quinn’s presence was so critical that he was prepared to take Eileen and Zoë, his own partner and only child, to the site of the firestorm. That reassured Quinn a great deal.

  “What about you and me?”

  Erik’s lips tightened, his gaze locking with Quinn’s. “There is always danger for those who respond to the touch of darkfire.”

  He was right. Being Pyr was not without risk. There were no guarantees.

  “Brandon and his mate?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t know. I fear the tinge of this darkfire, though.” Erik shuddered. “It feels portentous.”

  Quinn knew exactly what Erik meant, although he might have preferred otherwise. “I didn’t think Firedaughters existed anymore.”

  Erik smiled. “Like dragons, maybe?”

  Quinn was always curious to learn more about the element of fire.

  But at what price?

  He watched Erik’s fingers in Garrett’s dark hair and knew that the leader of the Pyr understood the burden of choosing between responsibilities. He nodded once, his decision made, and extinguished the flame.

  Sara watched him closely, and he knew she understood his choice. He also felt that she approved of it.

  He left the unfinished metal disk to cool, took off his gloves, and hung up his apron. He scooped up Garrett as he did his final check of the workshop, well aware that Erik was waiting.

  Quinn paused beside Erik and looked the leader of the Pyr in the eye. “Then we go.”

  Erik liked to appear impassive but he was unable to completely hide his pleasure in this. “I took the liberty of checking commercial flights,” he said. “There’s a flight to Chicago out of the Traverse City airport in two hours. If you can make that, we can be on the same nonstop to Honolulu in nine hours. We’ll be there in the morning, and well rested.”

  “We’ll be on it.” Sara and Quinn said in unison.

  Liz went straight to the restaurant where she’d met Brandon.

  The restoration of cell phone service meant that her phone had been ringing nonstop. She’d managed to reassure people back on the East Coast that everyone was fine. Most of the damage had apparently been on the other side of the island, in Honolulu. Liz couldn’t even look at the images online of flattened hotels and crushed cars.

  She felt very lucky and could only hope that Brandon had been just as lucky.

  To her relief, the same waitress was working as had been last night.

  To her dismay, the waitress’s aura was so bright that it was impossible to ignore. It was vivid yellow with a tinge of orange, a warm and welcoming aura indicative of a positive spirit.

  The auras, Liz had to concede, were back. She figured she might as well use the data since she had it.

  The waitress was a sunny, trustworthy person, inclined to help. That was good.

  The waitress glanced at Liz’s new flip-flops and smiled. “You’ve had quite the intro to island life, haven’t you?”

  “That earthquake was a first for me.”

  “Me, too. At least here.” The waitress made a face. “I’m good with volcanoes. They do their business slowly and there’s time to run. Earthquakes, though, are why I left California.”

  Liz was surprised. “You don’t get a lot of them here?”

  The waitress shook her head. “Not like that one.” She shrugged. “I understand that it usually happens under the ocean. Never mind that avalanche outside of town. But then all the weather in the world is going to hell. What can I get you?”

  “Just a bit of information. You know those guys who were here last night?”

  The waitress’s eyes started to twinkle. “The hot surfer guys? The ones a girl would have to be dead not to notice?”

  Liz blushed. “Yes, them. Who are they?”

  “I don’t know their names. Surfers don’t come here often.” She smiled and started to turn away. “I just enjoy the view when they do.”

  “Any idea where I’d find them?”

  The waitress looked Liz up and down. “Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look the type.”

  “What type?”

  “Mainland girl on vacation, looking to get lucky. Or surfer-boy fan girl. Either way, you don’t fit. Especially if you’re at the Institute.”

  “I’m a marine biologist.” Liz was sure she couldn’t have blushed any more. “I was talking to one of them about the reefs,” she improvised. “He mentioned a fish I’ve never seen before.”

  “Uh-huh. So, the day after we get slammed with an earthquake, you’ve got to find him. Because of some little fish.” />
  “Okay. I want to check that he’s okay, too.”

  The waitress smiled, glanced away, then met Liz’s gaze. “You want surfers, you need to go up to Hale‘iwa. They’re all up there in December.”

  “Why in December?”

  “It’s the waves. They’re best at this time of year on the north shore. And there are the competitions, as well. It’s about the only time they can make money doing what they do.” The waitress grinned. “Unless they can get a gig as a boy toy. Does marine biology pay well?”

  Liz ignored that.

  Hale‘iwa. She pulled out her cell phone and Binged the town. From the map of the island, it looked as if she could drive there in a couple of hours.

  The waitress laughed. “Oh, honey, you’ve got it bad.”

  Liz knew there was nothing she could say to change the other woman’s perspective. Besides, it was nearly noon. If she wanted to drive to Hale‘iwa, find Brandon, and get back by the last ferry to Coconut Island, she’d have to hurry.

  “That main road?” she said. “It looks like I just follow it around the island.”

  “That would have worked yesterday.” Her words reminded Liz of the debris from the landslide, which would have barricaded the road. “You’re going to have to go back through the tunnel to Honolulu, then take the road up the middle of the island to the north shore.”

  Liz found the road on her map, then looked up at the waitress. “Any way to do that without taking a tunnel through the mountain?”

  “Well, you could go all around Diamond Head, then through Honolulu, but it would take you hours. Especially today. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be driving through those tunnels when there are aftershocks. It all depends how badly you want to check on him.” She grinned. “Or find that little fish.”

  Liz studied the map. She measured the distance. She thought about the dragon saving her and the woman with the child.

  She had to know.

  She didn’t have time to take the scenic route. If she was going to Brandon, she had to go through the tunnels. There’d be no auras, because she’d be alone. She could ignore the whispers, if there were any.

  Because her desire to talk to Brandon was strong enough to justify this risk.

  Even if the waitress shook her head when Liz turned to leave.

  Chapter 5

  The person Brandon found first wasn’t Chen.

  It was Kira.

  She shouted at him as soon as he got out of the truck in Hale‘iwa, and he could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she was excited about something. Kira was of mixed descent, her skin tanned to a rich gold and her hair almost black. She looked Hawaiian from a distance, but her eyes were an unexpectedly clear green. She was petite and curvy, always wearing a bright bikini and floral-print sarong of her own design. She could rip a wave like no woman Brandon had ever seen surf. Her shop in Sunset Beach was always busy, but never so busy that she wouldn’t close up and hit the beach for a couple of hours.

  She’d been one of the first locals here to befriend him, and just seeing her easy smile made him feel less jangled and confused. Kira was part of his human life. Maybe if he focused on that side of his life and ignored the dragon, it would leave him alone.

  He heard it laugh deep in his mind at the very idea.

  “What’s up?” Brandon asked. “You look happy.”

  “I had an idea. Remember that wet suit you tried out a month back?”

  Brandon nodded. Kira had wanted to get into the business of outfitting surfers for a while. It made sense, as they were the majority of her customers, and their gear would be more profitable for her to sell than just the casual clothes she currently designed.

  “The one that was a bit tight in the shoulders?” It had been a great wet suit and he could have used a new one, but that one had restricted his shoulders too much. He wouldn’t be able to paddle properly in it, and that was too high a price to pay, even for a deal on a wet suit.

  “Right. Well, I marked up that one and had the supplier make a modified version.” She flicked a quick glance at him. “Custom, just for you.”

  Brandon stopped and stared at her. “No way. You shouldn’t have spent the money, Kira.”

  “It’s an investment.” Kira’s eyes were dancing at Brandon’s confusion. “Want to try it on?”

  Brandon held up his hands. “But, Kira, you can’t do this for me because I can’t pay you for it. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Oh yes, you can pay me back. That’s my idea!”

  Brandon spread his hands, inviting her explanation.

  “You’re going to surf the Pipe, aren’t you? You scored that wild-card slot?”

  Brandon nodded. “I did, by some miracle.”

  “Not a miracle. You’re natural and one of the best, too. Everybody knows it, and it’s about time someone gave you a break.” Kira kept talking, the words spilling from her lips so fast that Brandon wondered why she was worried. “It’s the wet suit you liked—short legs, short sleeves. Yellow with black.” She stopped and grinned. “And I just happened to have my new logo silk-screened onto the front of the wet suit in red.”

  Brandon laughed, understanding. “So when I compete, you get advertising.”

  “If you win anything, it will be amazing.” She leaned closer. “Nail the Pipe and you can have anything from me.” The warmth in her eyes made Brandon uncomfortable. He had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about wet suits.

  “One deal at a time, Kira.” He eyed the surf. “The waves are so rough, they might have to cancel.”

  “No,” she said with such conviction that he glanced at her in surprise. “Look, I was practically born on the beach, and I know the Banzai Pipeline better than I know myself. I feel that break right in my blood. I know what it’s going to do when.”

  “Kira, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  Kira was referring to the specific wave break where the last contest in the Triple Crown would be held. The Banzai Pipeline was known all over the world for being magnificent and fierce. On this section of coast, the shape of the coral reef compelled the surf to not just break by curling over itself, but to create a hollow tube. In addition, the tube was unusually large, enough that a good surfer could surf inside the tube, a feat called barreling.

  Of course, if the surfer made a mistake, he or she would be pummeled into the coral reef. Broken boards and broken limbs were common on the Pipe, and, on average, one surfer a year died trying to ride that wave.

  In his time on O‘ahu, Brandon had heard his share of superstitions and convictions about that break. He’d never expected such whimsy from Kira.

  “Sure it does,” she insisted, marching toward her yellow Volkswagen bug with determination. It was one of the old ones and a convertible, too. “Didn’t you know that my mom was one of the first women to surf the Pipe?” Brandon shook his head, but Kira nodded. “She only ever barreled it once, and she said it changed her life.”

  “I can believe it,” Brandon said. “It changed mine.” There was something magical about riding inside the curl of that wave, surrounded by blue and green water and buffeted by the sound of roaring water. No matter how many times Brandon did it, he felt euphoric afterward. It was the ultimate natural high.

  “Probably not in the same way,” Kira said with a wink. “She said it was amazing, that it either lasted ten seconds or ten hours.”

  Brandon smiled. The sense of being out of time had been strong for him, too.

  “And she said that everything came together in a kind of perfect sense.”

  Brandon nodded agreement. The Pipe was particularly special to him because inside that wave was the one place his dragon shut right up.

  “And she knew she was pregnant, right then.”

  He stared at Kira. “Whoa.”

  Kira nodded as she unlocked her car. “She came right out of the ocean and went for her test. It was so early that they had to do it twice to make sure.” She pulled out something yellow, looked at Brandon,
then shook out the wet suit. “She always called me the Banzai Baby.”

  The logo on the wet suit bore the words BANZAI BABY with a lightning bolt underscoring them. It blazed right across the chest and looked awesome.

  “Great logo,” Brandon said, admiring the wet suit. Kira went through the modifications to the design with him, showing how she’d added to it where he had found it restrictive and trimmed it where he’d thought it gaped. “It looks fantastic.”

  “So, will you?” She looked up at him with shining eyes, her expression making Brandon think that maybe she wanted more than this favor from him.

  But then, he’d thought that before.

  He didn’t want to let her down, though. He’d wear her logo only if he thought he was going to kick ass, and that depended on when the competition would be held. “They’re not competing today, are they? The beach is too quiet.”

  “No, it’ll be the day after tomorrow.”

  “You can’t know that.” The competitions were scheduled for twelve-day periods, with the actual surfing on three days. The hope was that there would be three days of good curls out of the twelve, and the decision was made by seven in the morning each day.

  “I tell you, I know the Pipe. Tomorrow the other breaks will be good, and the Pipe will be better than today. It won’t be optimal until Tuesday, though. Trust me.”

  Brandon looked at Kira and realized he did trust her instincts. She’d been calling good waves for as long as he’d known her. In fact, he’d teased her more than once that she must have a crystal ball to determine in advance which days her shop should be closed.

  So he had three days to get it together. He pursed his lips, thinking.

  Kira leaned closer, looking expectant. “Try it on.”

  Brandon glanced up and down the road, his own excitement rising. He had a sponsor. He had a wild-card slot. He had his chance. It was time for the dragon to get slammed back into the cave and locked in there for a good. He’d have to do a parking-lot change, but he was used to that. “You got a towel?”

  Kira rolled her eyes. “You think I’m a grom or something?”

  Brandon laughed at the idea of anyone considering her a beginner. He knotted her towel around his waist and slipped out of his shorts, pulling up the wet suit. It fit like it was made for him. He supposed that was because it had been. He peeled off the towel and tugged the wet suit over his shoulders, reaching back to pull up the zipper.