Liquid Fire (15 page)

Another gout of fire sailed overhead, and I wrenched in pain as the Dragon struggled again to get loose. I concentrated, starting a slow dance to try to bring it to heel. It twisted and resisted my attempts to control it . . . and then, it occurred to me—I didn’t have to.

Let me loose . . . and I can deal with the fireweavers.

I spread my arms. The Dragon’s wings burst through my jacket. I cracked my neck. The Dragon’s head coiled up behind me. Then I pushed off with my feet, and the Dragon’s tail slid out through a rip in my slacks, propelling me up into the night sky.

I can’t put out enough power to actually fly—the physics of human-powered flight don’t work much better with magic in the mix. But with each beat of the Dragon’s wings, she soaked up ambient mana from the fire battle—growing larger and larger, and stronger and stronger.

The Dragon emerged fully from my back, a vast half-Chinese, half-European artwork of glowing fire, gripping my shoulders in her foreclaws as her wings flapped powerfully upward and her tail spiraled below.
Free again.
We rose through the canyon of the Square, past the top of the central column. I rested there in her claws, eyes closed, feeling the Dragon soak up the powerful, hot, intoxicating magic of the fire ninja’s weapons; seeing the battle below through the Dragon’s eyes as she surged higher and higher. We stopped rising as the magic began to fade, and the Dragon’s wings beat faster, trying to drain every last ember of mana from the air.

Here, I could see the whole battle rage. My friends and our new allies still battled the four ninjas down at the bottom of the square. At the top corner, Lord Varguson stood, eyes glowing, still chanting, tourists flowing out of the Square at his direction. And with no more tourists left to chase, the two hellions had abandoned the crowd and joined the first fire ninja, assaulting Jewel’s shield. From here, Jewel’s dying bubble looked like a fiery little snow globe, which someone was poking at with tiny little roman candles.

Then I saw the solution, and murmured, “
Spirit of fire, give them your strength.
”

The Dragon and I sank downward, her wings beating faster and faster as she absorbed more mana, her tail coiling in an arc like my vines had earlier—but not to steal power; to
lend
it. The tail of the Dragon coiled around Jewel’s ball in a lazy helix, brightening it, reinforcing it, making the bubble gleam and surge with renewed vigor.

The lead ninja looked up and screamed, whipping the poi around quickly to throw a blast at me. Without me even consciously directing it, the Dragon spread her wings wide, then swept them downward, sucking all the mana from his blast, redirecting it into a torrent of air that tore through the plaza, shattering windows and snuffing out half the fires all at once. Mana still surging through her, the Dragon raised her head and screamed, burning fire into the sky.

The ninja shook his fists, clocking himself with a poi as it swung wide. Then he spun, whipping the poi faster and faster, performing an intricate, extended maneuver that blasted a blue-white ring of flame toward the glass façade of Macy’s. The curling fire ring impacted and roiled outward—and then the ninja followed the ring with new coils of fire, slamming into the already churning magic, leaving a giant disc of filigreed blue-green fire crackling against the windows—with an elaborate coiled Chinese-flavored dragon looping at its center.

“Oh, my,” I murmured.

I closed my eyes again, almost without wanting to, seeing the shimmering dragon ring through
my
Dragon’s eyes. Even more of the logic of the design was visible through its eyes than my own, and I marveled at what the Dragon showed me, even though I didn’t understand it yet.

Then my perception expanded, seemed to double, like I was seeing Union Square from two different angles, one from where I was, one watching myself from a vantage point spinning round the Square, a tiny person cradled in a vast glowing dragon flapping its wings in a torrent of wind and magic. From this view, I could see that the wind from his wings was starting to shatter and crack the façades of the hotels and shops in the Square. Fear gripped me—the expanded view and extent of the destruction meant I was losing control of my magic.

I spread my arms, sighed, let myself go limp. The Dragon felt my calm, began to relax, and her wings beat more slowly. The double vision faded, my single vantage point began to sink down into the Square, and the Dragon’s vision began to fade altogether. I opened my eyes, seeing the vast spinning symbol, with a stylized dragon at its center, crackling against the surface of Macy’s—the fire was going out, leaving only that blue-green glow, as at Liquid.

The magic bubble beneath me sucked at the Dragon’s magic hungrily, and we began to fall, faster and faster.
I need more magic to land safely.
I broke the connection to the bubble and focused, drawing my hands and legs through a complicated, sinuous move that Arcturus had taught me, re-energizing the Dragon with my own magic. Our rate of descent slowed, slowed, and then stopped, just as my feet touched the tiles of Union Square.

I fell to my hands and knees, letting the Dragon slowly dissipate mana through each beat of her wings. Chairs and tables and debris were still being swept away by her wings, but I kept it under control, slowly lessening her magic until she began, reluctantly, to merge with my skin.

I raised my head and saw Jewel, Saffron, and Lord Kitana staring down at me in awe as the Dragon merged with my kneeling form. The other fireweavers, vampires, and human guards were approaching as well, even the policeman who had joined us in the battle. In fear, I looked around until I found Cinnamon, visible just beyond the beat of the Dragon’s wings. Only Lord Varguson was missing; I would make sure that we accounted for him before it was all over.

The Dragon’s arms and legs merged into me, its tail began to coil back around my leg, and, with difficulty, I stood, using the last few beats of his wings to steady me. Standing once again, I glanced around the Square. It was trashed, debris was everywhere, store windows were shattered, and a massive magical mark still defaced the front of Macy’s . . . but there were no bodies on the deck. Many people were injured, but no one had died.

And San Francisco’s vampires? They were no longer an untested quantity; they’d fought alongside us without a second thought. This had been a literal trial by fire . . . and I found that these creatures I had feared had become people that I trusted.

“Victory, my friends,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. The back of my new vestcoat was split, but unlike previous adventures with tattoo magic and clothing, the splits were clean, and the jacket had miraculously held together. “I’m going to get slits cut in this damn thing.”

Lord Kitana stepped forward, eyes calculating, sheathed sword in his hand.

“It will take time to make the arrangements,” he said, slipping the sword into his coat. “But I shall be true to my word.”

“What?” I asked, feeling myself at last beginning to relax.

———

“The dagger,” he said. “I shall have it delivered to the Consulate on your behalf.”

15. I Get On Good With the Police

“Clear those windows,” I said to the officers, pointing at Macy’s, where people were curiously inspecting from within the vast circular dragon symbol that still flickered against its façade. The mark was enormous—the slowly rotating perimeter symbols looked larger than the people watching them. “It looks pretty, but it’s a mammoth magical mark of unknown power. If you can’t evacuate, I want at least a thirty foot cordon in front of and behind that glass.”

Within moments of the end of the battle, a swarm of police cars had descended upon Union Square, filling even its cavernous space with flashing blue and red lights. With the help of the beat officer who had been first on the scene, Jack Targan, we were able to get quick control of the chaos and channel the first responders into putting out the fires and helping the wounded rather than running around with guns looking for bad guys.

“Dark clothes, face masks—but of course, they may have ditched them,” I said, calling after a group of officers who were going to spread up the street. “Most of them were male, but it’s hard to be sure. Consider armed and extremely!”

Ambulances and fire trucks were now arriving, and Officer Targan and I met with the first of the paramedics, pointing out the injured, especially a group of burn victims we were helping in a makeshift first aid station near the ruins of the café.

“And keep a close watch on
anyone
with burns,” I said. “There’s always that chance someone may burst into flames as a result of a spell. Well, actually, it is hard to accidentally create a self-combusting mark, but we take no chances—this was magic fire.”

“Magic . . . fire,” the paramedic said, eyes widening with disbelief . . . or fear.

“Aaarg. Don’t you see that?” I said, pointing at the still-glowing circular mark covering the façade of Macy’s. Even now, fifteen minutes later, the central dragon coiled slowly within its mandala, and the five rings of bright letters inexorably orbited it. “That ain’t neon.”

While Cinnamon and Darkrose and our guards had tended the wounded, Saffron and Nyissa had circuited the Square, trying to “detect confederates” of the fire ninjas. Of the San Francisco vampires, Lord Varguson and his servants were long gone—apparently he did not “do” public appearances. But Lord Kitana and Lady Astryia remained; she as the representative of the Vampire Consulates of San Francisco, and he with some undefined relationship with the police which generated instant and immense respect, enabling him to help us quell the chaos and lending implicit authority to Officer Targan and me.

But that situation did not last long. The poor fireweavers, who had been assaulted mere moments after their performance began, now sat huddled in a circle in the center of the Square while firemen and paramedics examined them, surrounded by police unsure of whether to arrest them. Just as Targan and I were going to clear it up, a slender bald man in a “Rockstar” T-shirt strode through the crowd, a badge hanging down over his shirt, stalking forward with an authority that had “Detective” written all over it.

“Who’s the officer in charge?” he asked sharply.

Officer Targan looked at me. I pointed back at him.

“I believe you are now, sir,” Officer Targan said nervously. “I was first on the scene—”

“What happened here?” he asked, glancing up at the huge glowing symbol, then at the overturned tables and shattered glass. “Reports were someone set off some ‘dragon fireworks’ and broke some windows, but this looks like a full scale terrorist attack—”

“I believe I can explain,” Lady Astryia said smoothly, stepping up beside us.

“Lady Astryia, always good to see you,” the bald man said, nodding.

“Good to see you as well, Detective Brookstone,” she responded. “Yes, there was a terrorist attack. These young people were performing in the Square, and were attacked by fire magicians. My companions and I were nearby, and responded. The ‘dragon fireworks’ were spells set off by one of my companions, which rechanneled the offensive magic into a shield that prevented the loss of any life. I’m sorry for the damage, but as it was in self-defense, I must insist that the immunity of the Vampire Consulates be extended to
all
of my companions—”

“Don’t tell me
all
these people are under your protection,” Brookstone said, pointing at the firespinners. “Because I am going to take names, and if a single one of them is not on the official list, I can assure you even
you
, ma’am, can be brought up on charges—”

“Of course,” Lady Astryia said delicately. “I did not mean to imply a blanket immunity for the entire crowd. I must
insist
, however, that vampiric immunity be granted to the Georgia delegation of the Unified Vampire Consulates, as per California law—”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “Detective Brookstone,
I
set off the ‘dragon spell.’ I did it defending these people and the crowd. I’m happy to answer all of your questions. If you feel the need to arrest me after my report, I’ll go quietly, and take my chances that you and the DA will sort it out, or that I’ll be exonerated in the courts. I have
nothing
to hide.”

Lady Astryia stared at me, then bowed. “I defer to your wisdom, Lady Frost.”

“Guileless,” Lord Kitana said.

Brookstone turned to me. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“Dad’s a cop,” I said. “Ask your questions.”

Fortunately, Officer Targan saw enough to get me out of a “we have to charge you with
something
” situation. But, even though the spinners were clearly the victims, it was looking like they were not going to be so lucky. At best, they’d be slapped with creating a public disturbance, and at worst, a California magical “misdemeanor”—which, I gathered, had
huge
fines.

“Brookstone, look,” I said quietly. “Could I show you something?” I asked, crooking my finger. We walked over to a pile of confiscated spinner’s gear. “This is a safety towel, used to put out a performer. This is a dousing towel for the wicks, fireproof and dampened. This is a portable fire extinguisher. These people take fire safety very seriously—”

“And how do you know their gear so well?” he asked.

“One of them tripped over me yesterday, and I had to help clean it all up,” I said. “And before you go any further down that road, that was at a
licensed
performance. I’d never participate in an illicit performance, no matter how entertaining they are to watch.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at me, but I pressed on.

“Look, at most, this is a misdemeanor, and if you’d seen them performing you’d have watched a few minutes yourself. But
that
”—I pointed to the sizzling ring covering the front of Macy’s—“is a real threat, and a real crime. At least vandalism, possibly a death threat.”

Brookstone stared at it, then nodded.

“Don’t charge them, but don’t sweep this under,” I said. “Take this seriously. That young lady has been assaulted twice in the last twenty-four hours, here and in Oakland. And when you’re done? I need those witness statements, photographs, the whole shmear.”