Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (20 page)

“Where?” they both demanded at once.

She pointed along the left fork of the path where it curved steeply up into the trees. “This way.”

“Why you think so?” Malu asked, striding up beside her and grabbing her hand to help her up the path.

“You know all those new cell phone apps?” she asked breathlessly, hanging on to his big hand. Her thighs were burning from the steep climb. “He kept fiddling with his phone up here, and I thought he was just checking messages. But then I remembered he kept turning around, like he was searching for the signal. But why would he do that when the signal is so clear? So, I think he has a GPS in his phone or something. They must have given him the coordinates to where they dropped the drugs.”

She thought it was a brilliant idea.

“Maybe,” Malu said tersely. He led the way up the steep path, over a patch of gnarled roots, around a huge growth of monstera and through the trees.

Seeing bright sunlight ahead, Melia pointed. “It’s around here, somewhere, I think.” The three of them emerged into the open, where the lava flow had flattened trees and shrubs before it. They were high enough that a breeze stirred the tops of the trees on both sides of them. Unfortunately, it didn’t reach them on the ground.

Melia pointed up to the place where Dane had climbed the rocks above her. “Dane was up there. Where it looks like a heiau.” The ancient Hawaiians had piled lava boulders in smooth platforms to worship their gods. This looked curiously like one, but it was a fairly new lava flow, so it couldn’t be.

Malu looked down at her. “You recognize our heiau, yeah?”

Keone headed up the pile of lava, scrambling quickly for such a big man. Malu looked around, sweeping the area with his keen gaze, his face hard. Warrior mode, she thought with a thrill of premonition, goose bumps springing up on her skin despite the damp heat. She wondered if he was going to glow.

He held out his hand for her. “Stay with me. And Melia…” He held her hand tightly, his eyes narrowed and intent. “If I tell you to get down, you do it. Flat as a melon vine, understand?”

She nodded quickly, her heart thumping so hard she felt a little sick. Oh, no, that sounded bad. “Do you think they might be here, somewhere?”

“I don’t know. I wish you weren’t here.”

She frowned indignantly. “As if I’d let you leave me behind.”

His mouth quirked. He bent over and kissed her. “I know, you’re sparky for such a little wahine.”

“Well, to a point,” she admitted as she thought of something else. “You’re not going to…be moving the mountain, are you?”

His face sobered. “I hope not, pua. I hope not.” He tightened his grip on her hand.

As they stepped out of the shade of the big trees, the sun slapped them like a hot blanket. Melia followed Malu up the lava field, grateful for his sheer power boosting her up over the bigger rocks.

They arrived at the top of the natural heiau, Melia damp and breathless, Malu apparently unaffected. Keone stood in the middle, gazing at the lava and the walls of jungle pressing in on both sides.

He held out his hands in disgust. “Now how you figga? Nuttin’ here.”

Melia looked around, disappointed. She didn’t know what she’d expected—a big box with an X painted on it?

“Well, it was after he climbed up here that Dane relaxed, started joking around as he usually does. So, I just thought—he must have found the cache of drugs.” She looked miserably at Malu. “I’m sorry, I guess I led you on a wild
nene
chase.”

He looked unperturbed. “Nah. I’ll find it.”

She caught her breath. “You mean…you’re going to—
you know
.” She broke off, looking at Keone, who stood a short distance away. “Use your kupua, your powers?” she finished under her breath.

Malu’s lips quirked. “Nope.” He held up a small object and pushed a button with his thumb. “Dane’s cell phone.”

A faint beeping sound emanated from the trees behind them. Keone whirled, and he and Malu moved toward the trees, stepping easily from boulder to boulder. Melia followed them more carefully, the lava shifting, grating under her feet.

There, in the shadows of a huge clump of monstera leaves, sat an ugly crate. It looked like a giant fast-food takeout box, except that it was painted with irregular shades of dark gray, brown and green camouflage. It also had a complex-looking lock. A messy length of rope and fabric hung off one side. A parachute, she realized.

“The cell phone app was a homing device,” Malu said with satisfaction.

Keone reached down for it, but Malu grabbed his arm. “
U oki,
careful. Maybe
‘upiki
trapped.”

He studied the lock for a moment while Melia opened her water bottle and took a long, thirsty drink. Screwing the top back on, she moved into the shade with the men, lifting her T-shirt away from her skin. The cotton felt like a used wash cloth, hot and damp. The two Hawaiians seemed unfazed by the heat, but she couldn’t wait to get back off the mountain and dive into the ocean. She gazed out at its calm blue expanse and groaned with longing at the thought of the cool water closing over her head.

“Ah, got it,” Malu said. He did something with the lock, and the box opened. Inside the crate sat a duffle bag.

“That looks just like Dane’s bag,” Melia said, impressed. Malu had figured it out.

Malu nodded. “Yup. He’d have brought the stuff back to Kona town with him, right under our noses.”

He stood up with a fluid motion. “All right. We found it.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “Destroy it?”

Keone moved sharply but said nothing.

Malu shook his head. “Nope. Leave it here.”

“Why?” Melia asked, bewildered.

“Good idea,” said Keone. “These bad dudes—we betta stay clear.”

“We have to take it with us,” Melia said indignantly. “And call 911, so the police can destroy it.” She looked around. “Or, if you call them now, they could land here and pick it up.”

Malu shook his head again. “No. We leave it.”

She frowned up at him from under her ball cap. She was hot, sweaty, she’d spent her morning putting up with him and his retro friend, and now he was just going to abandon their find?

“You are a…a big, incomprehensible, aggravating, infuriating…male. Stop being so macho. If you have a super solution in mind, you could at least share it with us.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Malu said mildly.

Melia frowned up at him. It was an exotic scene straight from paradise, the mountain rising majestically behind them, cut sharply by the black lava flow, swooping down to the bay with its frame of rocks, surf and palm trees. Over it all, the sky was a bowl of blue, reflected in the deep blue of the sea beyond the bay.

And Malu, standing on the edge of the heiau in his tattoos and his red shorts, the embodiment of Hawaii. A lot of good that did if he wasn’t going to use his powers.

She crossed her arms and waited. Leaning over, he gave her a quick, hard kiss.

“Okay, you wanna give me more hell, or you wanna listen?” he asked.

“I just think it’s stupid to leave the drugs here, where Dane’s horrible friends can just come and get them. How will you know if they do? Then the police will have to chase them. You could hand the drugs over and save them the trouble. Or you could—could burn them up.”

“Nah, nah,” said Keone. “Worst idea yet. Forest fire, maybe.”

He stood over the drugs like a stout tiki god, scowling at her.

Malu turned to look up the mountain, his gaze sweeping the edge of the trees on both sides. There was bad
popilikia
here, he could feel it. Close.

Melia moved sharply beside him. “Um…Malu?” she whispered, her fingers closing on his arm.

He turned back, every cell in his body alerted. Trouble was close, all right. Much closer than he’d thought.

Keone gave him a guilty grin over the Glock semi-auto pistol in his huge paw. “Sorry, man, can’t letcha ruin everyt’ing.” He beckoned to Melia. “Pick up da bag an’ hand it to me, wahine. Nice and slow, nobody gets hurt.”

Malu thrust a protective arm in front of her, anger and sadness swelling in his chest. “So, you didn’t just show up because Frank called you,” he said.

Keone shrugged. “Already been looking for dis. Couldn’t find it. Figured you might have.”

“
Aue
, Keone, you should go back home! You don’t know what you’re doing with dis
la’au ino
, fool. It’s poison.”

“Hell I don’t.” Keone sneered. “Many of us—we going back to the old ways, whedda you comin’ or not. This good
ho’okalakapua—
magic, man. Dey lemme try it.”

He leaned forward intensely. “
I saw the old ones
, Malu. In a vision. They told me they’d come back and wipe all da haoles off da islands, if we pray and make hula to dem.
Au’a ‘ia.”

Malu shoo
k his head. “Hoapili kāne, the old ones are always here with us. You don’t need to bring them back. They’re here.” He thumped his fist over his heart. “All you saw was a hallucination.”

Keone shook his head stubbornly, the beads in his braids clacking. He waved the gun at Melia. “Bring da bag, haole wahine.”

After a frightened look at Malu, Melia edged past his arm and bent to grab the duffel.

A little lopsided from the weight, she crossed the rocks to Keone, teetering as they shifted under her.

“Thanks.” He gave her his ferocious grin and then grabbed her arm. “Tell you what, you come with me, carry it. Den if your ku’u ipo here try to take me down, I shoot you. One less haole already.”

“You hurt her, and I’ll never stop hunting you,” Malu said in a voice as deep as a fissure.

Keone moved nervously, jerking Melia back with him. She clutched the duffle, freckles standing out on her white face, her eyes wide and frightened—fastened on
him
. He had to keep her safe and without Keone shooting them both. He’d recover, but his sweet wahine might not.

“You say you saw the old ones,” he said to Keone. “If I can make you see them again, will you believe me?”

Keone snorted. “Ass right, bro. You do dat.”

“All right,” Malu said. “
Makakilo
.” He took a deep breath and held out his arm, willing Pele’s sacred power to rise in him.

“This what you want?” he asked Keone.

There was a faint rumble, as if the foundations of the island shifted beneath their feet. Keone looked around, startled. Melia stood very still, watching him. Smiling at her, he beckoned, feeling the island sigh as a breath of Pele’s dreams exuded from it.

A mist blew out of the trees, twining around them, bringing with it the faint music of a ukulele being strummed and the rhythmic clack of sticks. Flexing his fingers as if he held a paintbrush, Malu stroked his hand across the invisible canvas before him, turning on his heel to sweep his arm wide. A thrill of kupua sent triumph soaring in him. This was a gift he had been born with, to create images of his beloved island. Those on canvas and paper would last for generations, this one only for a moment, but he intended that on his audience, the effect would be lasting.

Melia’s eyes widened in awe, and Keone’s mouth dropped open as all around them, from the mist, a hula took shape and form.

Lovely Hawaiian women in kapa-cloth skirts and fragrant leis shimmied and swayed, smiles on their faces as they waved their hands gracefully to Keone, giving him homage. Behind them, ranks of men similarly clad danced with the
kāla
’au
—rhythm sticks—white teeth flashing.

A crowd of Hawaiians in traditional dress watched as a great imu steamed before traditionally thatched houses. Chubby children wove among their elders, laughing and giggling. The celebration surrounded them, real as life, insubstantial as the mist.

“Yes,” Keone said hoarsely. “Yes, here they are. Ohh, dis betta den I see before. See?” he cried to Malu. “See how it could be again?”

He let go of Melia to turn, his rapt gaze following one golden-skinned woman with long, flowing black hair and a familiar flashing smile. “Leilani, is dat you? Ah,
ka
popohe
.”

“Is she?” Malu asked. His voice rumbled like lava rocks shifting, ready to tumble.

Slowly, the scene began to change. As Keone and Melia watched in dawning horror, the dancers’ smiles turned vacant, their eyes hollow. Bodies thinned, golden skin now mottled with bruises, sores. Some stumbled, fell. They did not rise.

The imu no longer steamed. Instead, the watchers now sat listlessly in front of rusted tin shacks while mangy dogs snarled and scrawny, dirty children cried. Two men fought drunkenly while a woman wept, holding out her hands ineffectually to stop them.

“No! Leilani!” Keone’s gaze was fastened on the now thin woman huddled by a palm, wearing only a torn sarong, her breasts sagging. Her dull black hair straggled around her shoulders.

At Keone’s call, the horrid caricature of Leilani straightened, her come-hither smirk showing rotten teeth. “Hey,
nohea
,” she mumbled. “I show you good time, you get me
ona
.”