Liquid Fire (49 page)

Few skindancers were also martial artists, so I was designing my own eclectic martial art, using Taido’s acrobatics as a base. Capoeria was new to my mix—Brazilian, dance-inspired, practiced to music, starting with a swaying, back-and-forth movement called
ginga
.

My left foot darted back as I brought up my left hand as a guard, then I nimbly mirrored the movement in time to the music. Instruments started to wail around the drums as my body soaked in the rhythm, my feet becoming lighter with each mirrored sequence of steps.

Then the song exploded into a soaring soundscape, and I shifted into Taido’s dance of the eight steps,
unsoku happo
, which traced the basic footwork in an elaborate choreographed pattern that built speed and strength while teaching reflexes of offense and defense.

I was fast at
unsoku happo
until I started thinking of it as a dance—and then I got faster. Springier than
ginga
, but still friendly to throwing in capoeria’s fluid
esquiva
dodges,
unsoku happo
keeps my feet moving because my feet have to move. I can’t stay planted.

The rhythm sank into my bones, and I moved beyond martial arts into skindancing, launching into the Dance of Five and Two. I’d pulled guards and stances from capoeira and Taido into it, but this was a dance,
this
had the right sums,
this
generated mana.

Before the world kicked my ass last year, I’d been satisfied with tattooing, ignoring the “dance” in “skindancer.” But no more; I had rediscovered not just the other half of my art, but my own love of dance, and I was as determined to perfect the art of my dance as I had my inking.

The chill mountain air stung my skin as I danced, and I felt winded; all this traveling and talking had left me rusty. But as I moved, I acclimated, warming up, feeling my muscles stretch out, then slowly, surely, feeling my magic surge outward from my heart to my skin.

My power poured into my tattoos, and my vines unfurled around me as I moved. When I first tried this, years ago, with Arcturus, I got so tangled I fell on my face. Now I spun freely, my vines swirling around me fluid as thought, shedding leaves in a circle like a storm of autumn.

Jewel stepped to the top of the stairs, morningstars alight with liquid fire.

She descended the stairs toward my whirlstorm of magic. Her delicate feet touched the grass. Passing vines caressed her, tingling me to my core. She drew a breath, swirled slowly, entering the vortex, hands raising and falling, letting glowing leaves whirl around her.

Now I could see the delicate threads of my own magic. Not just the visible fire, but the invisible structure—the surging arcs, the crossing lines, the subtle pulses as one kind of mana changed into another. I could see my own intents come to life, writ large upon the air.

I no longer feared what would happen if my living magic touched her skin.

Jewel whipped her morningstars behind her, low to the ground, then brought them together in front of her, their cords crossing, the two flaming balls spinning around each other like a fiery buzz saw. Mana flooded off them, empowering me, and I spread my wings.

The Dragon unfurled around me, head rising, wings unfolding, tail uncurling, lifting me off the ground even as it brushed Jewel’s feet. Her skin rippled against my projected tattoos and I gasped. The Dragon’s wings snapped, hurling me into the air on the strength of her magic.

As my maelstrom of vines and leaves lifted into the air, Jewel let her morningstars fly apart, creating another dome of magic, lifting me higher. The vines and leaves drew power from her, but it was the Dragon that they powered. Her wings flapped, drawing me higher.

Before, when I rose over Union Square on stray mana crackling off Jewel’s shield, I’d been disconnected and overwhelmed. Now I was connected and
aware
. No longer cut off by her shield, I could
feel
her through the magic—feel her love, and feel her love of the Earth.

Maui fell away beneath me as I rose on a pillar of magic and flame. The cracked slopes that slipped away around me were more complex than they were on the ground; forests spotted the slopes like patches of moss on a hillside. My own magic lit up the landscape.

Then I saw it—my
original
Dragon.

My breath caught as it shimmered into existence along the horizon. I don’t know if it truly faded in, or just approached from the distance, but it appeared, growing closer and larger at the same time, leeching off my stray magic the same way I was being powered by Jewel.

By now, my maelstrom of vines and leaves had swirled out around me into a hurricane of autumn colors: sinuous vines, flowing leaves, glittering gems embedded in flowers, fluttering butterflies flying with sparks, a giant swirling vortex of mana fueled by love and fire.

My original Dragon wove itself through them all, a giant sine wave of blue scales and green gems snaking itself through my magic-generated forest. No longer a pale imitation of a Chinese dragon with tribal influences, it was a living behemoth of magical power, embodied and real.

I gasped, my body falling slack, my new Dragon’s will keeping me aloft while my old Dragon slowly inscribed a full circle around me. My leaves dissipated, my new Dragon’s wings furled, and as I slowly began to sink, my old Dragon sang to me:

———

“
The egg is ready,
” the Dragon said. “
Be prepared.
”

52. Compromised

“You’ve compromised my safe house,” Mr. Iloa said, quietly, though the force with which he delivered his words made them seem like a yell. “Endangered this mission, the life of your friend, the lives of everyone who lives here—and ruined this place for future use.”

Iloa had summoned us all to the main house, where he had proceeded to rant at Jewel and me about the irresponsibility of “our little magical stunt” and to berate Philip for his “lack of judgment” in bringing us here. He looked calm, but was winding up to an explosion.

As for me? My cheeks were burning. I’d screwed up, royally.

“I’m sorry,” I said, for the third time. “I never intended to—”

“You agreed to respect my hospitality,” Iloa continued. “You yourself said you would protect our privacy. Yet you have violated both.” Mr. Iloa glared at me—and then he turned to Philip. “I’m withdrawing my invitation. This is no longer a safe house.”

Philip looked like he’d been slapped. Of course. His bosses would blame
him
for
my
gaffe. Me, I seethed. Raking
me
over the coals was one thing. Taking it out on Philip, disrupting the mission, possibly endangering Molokii’s life? That was something else entirely.

I had been ready to take my medicine, but now I had to show leadership.

“I want you out of here,” Iloa said. “Out of here by morning—”

“No,” I said, shifting as my Dragon slid against my back.

“Excuse me?” Iloa said, turning to look at me.

“No, we’re not leaving,” I said, quietly, just like Iloa had. “We stay, and we finish the mission. This is not just a kidnapping. We’re dealing with a magical crisis which may kill everyone on this island. Remember Krakatoa, the explosion felt round the world?”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” Iloa snapped—then his eyes widened, fractionally. I
had
gotten through to him. “Yes, I—” he began, then recovered his anger. “That doesn’t matter! You lit up a mile-high magical sign over
my house!
”

I looked him straight in the eye, calm, apologetic—but firm.

“Yes, yes I did,” I said. “Unintentionally, but I did. I’m sorry, and it’s very
unfortunate
that my practice had unexpected magical fallout—but that ‘fallout’ confirmed we’re following a good lead and that there’s real danger. We need to stay, and finish the mission—”

“I’m not a part of your mission, and you are not in charge of me, Miss Frost. This is
my home
, and you have no authority,” Iloa said. “You didn’t suddenly become queen of Hawai`i just because some idiot put you in charge of magic in
Hicksville
—”

My nostrils flared. Nobody talks to me about Atlanta that way.

“Read my file, did you?” I asked, cracking my neck. “Then you missed the backstory. Do you know how I got appointed Chair of the Magical Security Council, Mr. Iloa? Someone tried to destroy my city, and no one would step up to defend it—
so I appointed myself.
”

Everyone was quiet.

“Philip’s right. I did let too much of my magic out while I was practicing—but that could only give
you
away, not
call down hatchsign
,” I said. “The same hatchsign we’ve seen over Palo Alto and over my literal home. Now it’s over your home. If you won’t deal with it, I will.”

“But . . . but still,” Iloa spluttered, “You have no real authority—”

“
One hundred fifty thousand
people live on Maui. That’s all the authority I need.” I said, trying to wrestle my anger back under control. “I’m sorry, Mr. Iloa, but I’m commandeering this installation under the authority of the Magical Security Council.”

“This is not an installation,” he said. “It—is—my—home—”

“And I’m trying to
save it
from being buried in a pyroclastic flow. You should be tossing me the keys and heading for the airport, rather than arguing and risking being burned alive,” I said, turning my back on him. “Philip, control your man. I don’t want this to come up again.”

Then I strode out of the room, down the porch and into the night.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
I had wanted to show leadership, and I ended up picking another fight. Bravado or no, the MSC had no authority here; we’d be lucky if Iloa didn’t kick us all out on the spot.

My dragon squirmed actively on my back now, seething with my own rage. I was no longer sure I bought Arcturus’s story that it just mirrored my intent, but neither did I completely buy the idea that I’d somehow picked up the spirit of a dragon, not with my old tattoo flying around dispensing cryptic wisdom about the timing of the hatching. This situation was mysterious, and dangerous, and possibly disastrous. Why couldn’t Iloa see that?

I clenched my teeth, boots crunching on the path. I shouldn’t have let the Dragon sweep me up into the sky. Irresponsible! I’d gotten carried away by the literal
magic
of my girlfriend and had endangered the mission—and rather than owning up, I’d doubled down.

Before I was halfway to my cabin, footsteps sounded behind me. One set was clearly trying to be quiet, stealthy; the other wasn’t exactly
trying
to be quiet, but was stealthier. I felt a tingle of mana as Jewel came up on my right, and then Philip joined on my left.

“So this is the famous Dakota Frost bravado in action,” Jewel said.

“I did screw up and I will apologize to him in the morning,” I said, pulling out my phone. “But we’ve just seen hatchsign, and we should be focusing on how to interpret it, not quibbling over how fast you got us here or the unexpected strength of my defensive spells—”

“Dakota, Iloa knows that,” Philip said. “He tries to play the wise sage, but he’s really quite touchy and hotheaded about the little kingdom he’s built here. You’re not the first to run afoul of him—but I think your crack about being burned alive rattled him. He’s still pissed, but he sees the danger. He’s going to come around—and let us do our work.”

He rattled some papers in his hands. I glanced at them, then the three of us scurried over to one of the lampposts that lit the path. The sheets were seismic maps, hot off a printer, which recorded new activity in volcanoes around Hawaii.

“We were suspicious of Hawaii before, but we’re almost certain now,” Philip said.

“Is it on Necker Island?” I asked. “The one Daniel wants to take—”

“No,” Jewel said. “For the record, it’s called Mokumanamana—”

“And it’s extinct,” Philip said. “The dragon will hatch from an active volcano—but there’s a problem. We’ve got at
least
three sets of suspicious seismic activity from volcanoes located in the Hawaii region—”

“Three dragons,” I said. “Jesus—”

“Don’t get excited,” Jewel said. “It could be
any
volcano, but not
every
volcano.”

“If we buy the idea there’s only one spirit,” Philip said. I stared at him, wondering if he was going to suggest that if one dragon
projectia
could pick up a spirit, perhaps another one could too—but what he suggested was actually far worse. “The thing you saw flying around might be a dragon spirit looking for a volcano . . . because all the suitable ones are taken.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” I said. “That would mean—”

“A mass volcanic eruption,” Philip said. “That’s a worst case scenario. Assuming one spirit, that still leaves us three possible sites in Hawaii alone—Kilauea. Lothi seamount, two or three others. The seismographs even picked up a rumble in Pu’u o Maui—”