by K. D. Keenan
Fire in the Ocean
K.D. Keenan
Copyright
Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com
Copyright © 2018 by K.D. Keenan
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email [email protected]
First Diversion Books edition February 2018
ISBN: 978-1-63576-185-6
Also by K.D. Keenan
The Obsidian Mirror
This book is dedicated in loving memory of my mother, Barbara M. Doyle.
In beauty it is finished.
Acknowledgments
Without the good people of Moloka‘i and their aloha spirit, this book would not have been possible.
My deepest gratitude is owed to the following people. Everything I got right is because of them, and the errors are all mine.
Louella Albino (Auntie Opu‘ulani), who consulted with me on usage of the Hawai‘ian language and ancient traditions. I will always be grateful to Auntie for her kindness and aloha.
My long-suffering husband, Tom Keenan, who accompanied me on my travels and took pictures of anything I asked him to.
Ken Love, agricultural consultant, who helped me with contacts on the Big Island.
Bob Matsuyama, barber extraordinaire of Shear Magic, Keleakakua, the Big Island, who regaled me with stories of the Night Marchers, ghosts, and spirits while trimming my hair.
Joan and Casey McCarty, owners of beautiful Camp Aloha, our helpful hosts on the Big Island.
Jim Miller, docent at the Bishop Museum Ethnobotanical Garden in Captain Cook, who patiently answered all my questions and gave me a tour of the gardens.
Ray Naki, also known as Leimana, who spent hours talking with me about the ancient fishponds on Moloka‘i, hula, the Hawai‘ian language, and many other topics.
Anakalo Pilipo, who told me stories about the mo‘o of Halawa Valley and how the people lived there long ago. If you want to hike to Mo‘oula Falls and learn more about ancient Moloka‘i, contact him through halawavalleymolokai.com.
Apelila (April) and Josh Qina, of Mo’s Kava Bar in Keleakakua, who educated me about ‘awa, and introduced me to Apelila’s uncle Leimana in Moloka‘i.
Jeanine Rosso, who generously provided me with invaluable contacts in Moloka‘i and tutored me on island etiquette.
Wayne Sentman, of the Oceanic Society, who gave me information about the Midway volunteer program.
Peter van Dyke, of the Bishop Museum Ethnobotanical Gardens in Captain Cook, who gave me full access to ask questions about the ancient Hawai‘ians’ use of native plants.
My alpha readers, Cynthia Bournellis, Linda Duyanovich, Sean Keenan, Tom Keenan, Cindy Knoebel, Susan Monroe, David Pease, Abbe Seitzman, and Cara Alexandra Sundell, for providing me with invaluable feedback.
Hawai‘ian Language Pronunciation
The Hawai‘ian language has two punctuation marks not used in English: the ‘okina (‘) and the kahakō (a bar, or macron, across the top of a vowel). The ‘okina indicates a glottal stop, as in “uh-oh.” The kahakō indicates a drawn-out sound, or emphasis, as in “kahak-OHH.” (I would like to note for the record that using these pronunciation marks in Microsoft Word is a true test of the author’s dedication. It wasn’t easy figuring out how to do it, and using the symbols involved several keystrokes each and every time.)
Other than the syllables marked for emphasis by a kahakō, all syllables are pronounced with the same emphasis (or lack of emphasis). All syllables are pronounced, and there are no silent letters.
Hawai‘ian uses the same vowels as English (but there is no Y). A and E are given their short pronunciations, as in “far” and “set.” I is pronounced EE, as in “green.” O is long, as in “mole.” U is pronounced OO, as in “moon.”
Hawai‘ian words never end with a consonant. There are seven consonants, H, K, L, M, N, P, and W. All except W are pronounced as in English.
The pronunciation of W is a bit confusing (at least to me):
After E or I, W is pronounced as V. “Lewa,” meaning the sky, is pronounced “leh-vah.”
After U or O, W is pronounced as W. “‘ōwili,” meaning a roll of paper or cloth, is pronounced “OH-wee-lee.”
At the start of a word or after A, W is pronounced as either W or V. (I don’t know if this is decided by individual choice or by custom.) So Hawai‘i is correctly pronounced as either “Havai‘i" or “Hawai‘i.”
There’s more, of course, but this should suffice for pronouncing the Hawai‘ian words used in Fire in the Ocean. I have provided pronunciations below for the Hawai‘ian words used here. I can only add that listening to a competent speaker of Hawai‘ian is like listening to water running over smooth pebbles, sibilant and beautiful.
Ali‘i: [ah-lee-ee] The hereditary ruling class of ancient Hawai‘i.
Aloha: [ah-low-ha] “Hello,” “goodbye,” and “love.”
‘Aumakua: [aw-mah-koo-ah] A family or personal spirit. It may take the form of a plant or animal, or it may be an unmodified stone. It serves roughly the same role as a guardian angel in Western culture.
Auwē: [ow-WAY] An expression of dismay, similar to “How awful!” or “Alas!”
‘Awa: [ah-vah] Known as kava throughout most of Polynesia. The roots of the Piper methysticum plant are pounded and mixed with water to produce a thin, whitish drink that is used to relax and soothe sore muscles and produce an elevated mood. ‘Awa does not cause intoxication like alcohol, and the author assures you from personal experience that no one drinks ‘awa for the flavor.
Hale: [hah-leh] House.
Haole: [how-leh] Caucasians. It is sometimes used as a derogative, but not always.
Heiau: [hay-ee-ow] Ancient Hawai‘ian temple.
Houngán: [hoon-GAHN] A priest of Voudún.
Huaka‘ipo: [hwah-kah-ee-po] Night Marchers, ancient Hawai‘ian warriors who march inland from the sea. If they come upon you and recognize you as one of their bloodline, you are safe. If you are not of their bloodline, you will never return to your home and family. While on the big island, the author met two people—neither of them native Hawai‘ians—who had heard or seen the Night Marchers personally. One said the Marchers pass straight through her house, so she leaves the front and back doors open on those nights.
Huixtocihuatl: [weest-OH-KEE-WAH-tl] Mayan/Aztec goddess of salt water. Her name means “She of the Jade Skirt.”
‘I‘iwi: [ee-EE-wee] Drepanis coccinea. The Hawai‘ian honeycreeper. A threatened native Hawai‘ian species.
‘Ili‘ili: [eely-eely] An instrument used in the ancient hula (hula kahiko), practiced before Europeans came to the Hawai‘ian Islands. Each dancer finds her own ‘ili‘ili, oiling them and keeping them carefully wrapped between performances. The stones are used in fours, two in each hand, and clicked together to create a rhythm.
Imu: [ee-moo] Underground oven.
Kaho’olawe: [kah-ho-oh-la-vee] An uninhabited island off the coast of Maui. The US Navy used it as a bombing range for many years. It is currently being cleared of munitions and non-native species like goats and rats to become a nature refuge. Sadly, many ancient Hawai‘ian sacred cultural sites were destroyed by the bombing.
Kahuna: [kah-hoo-nah] In ancient Hawai‘i, a priest, most of whom were credited with supernatural powers. In t
oday’s parlance, a kahuna is a wise person, a teacher, or a healer.
Kāne: [KAH-neh] Man. Kāne is also the name of one of the four greatest gods in the Hawai‘ian pantheon, the creator god and the god of those things necessary to life.
Kapu: [kah-poo] The same as taboo—forbidden.
Kapualei: [kah-poo-ah-lay-ee] This is the name of Moloka‘i’s most famous mo‘o, which is supposed to make her home at Mo‘a-ula (or (Mo‘o-ula) Falls in Halawa Valley. She is out of place in Kama’s refuge, but I needed her help here, so perhaps she will forgive me.
Keiki: [keh-ee-kee] Child.
Kukui: [koo-koo-ee] Aleurites moluccanu. Also known as candlenut. Kukui nuts are rich in oil that allows them to be used as candles in the manner described here. The ancient Hawai‘ians had a myriad of uses for the nuts and oil.
Loa: [lwa] The gods of Voudún.
Lomi-lomi: [low-me-low-me] Lomi means “rub.” In Hawai‘ian, doubling a word is the equivalent of adding the adjectives “very” or “much.” So lomi-lomi means “well-rubbed.” In this case, it refers to the preparation of the fish, which is rubbed with salt before cooking.
Luau: [loo-ow] Traditional Hawai‘ian feast.
Mahalo: [mah-hah-low] “Thank you.”
Ma‘i: [mah-ee] Genitals.
Maile: [my-lee] Alyxia oliviformis. A member of the periwinkle family. Maile leis are reserved for special occasions. They are sometimes formed into a circle, as most leis are, but more commonly worn as a long garland.
Malo: [mah-low] Loincloth. There are different styles of malos, but they often do not cover the buttocks.
Menehune: [meh-neh-hoo-nee] A legendary race of “little people.” Many ancient temples and fishponds throughout the islands are said to be the work of Menuhune, who formed long lines and passed the rocks from hand to hand. In this way, the Menehune were said to have built many of these structures overnight.
Mo‘olelo: [moh-oh-leh-low] Traditional story, or chant.
Mo‘o: [moh-oh] Giant black lizards or dragons. They are usually female and often found protecting freshwater springs and pools. Some are hostile to humans, others friendly or neutral. Though no such creature has ever lived in the Hawai‘ian Islands, mo‘o are important elements of Hawai‘ian culture and mythology.
Necocyaotl: [Neh-koh-kyah-OH-tl] Brother to Quetzalcoatl, the plumed serpent god of the Aztecs, and his opposite number, being the god of night, sorcery, storms, etc. See The Obsidian Mirror for the whole story.
‘Opihi: [oh-pee-hee] Limpets.
Pali: [pah-lee] Sheer sea cliffs.
Pele: [peh-leh] The goddess of fire, volcanoes, lightning and wind. She is the creator of the Hawai‘ian Islands. Many Hawai‘ians—and many non-native-people living in Hawai‘i—continue to believe in Madame Pele.
Poi: [poy] Colocasia esculenta. A starchy staple food made from the cooked, mashed corms of the taro plant.
Tī: [tee] A multi-use plant found across Polynesia. Its broad, flat leaves are used to wrap foods for cooking, but tī has many other culinary, medicinal, and practical uses.
Voudún: [voh-DOON] The proper name for a religion birthed in Haiti as an amalgamation of African slaves’ religious beliefs and Roman Catholicism. It is a religion based on healing and a charismatic relationship with the gods. Much of what we hear about Voudún is incorrect.
Chapter 1
Sierra glanced up from her in-flight magazine and stared at her companion with concern. Chaco’s face, normally a warm, glowing brown, was a sickly gray with green undertones. She scrabbled hastily in her seat pocket for the barf bag and handed it to him.
“If you feel like you’re going to be sick, use this,” she said. “I didn’t know you get motion sickness.” They had just taken off from San Jose International Airport—how could he be sick already?
Chaco waved away the bag with a weary gesture. “I don’t have motion sickness.”
“What’s the matter, then?” she asked. She hoped he would recover soon—and that he wasn’t contagious. But then she remembered: Chaco was an Avatar. He was thousands of years old, and had literally never been sick a day in his long life. If he was sick, something was seriously awry.
“I dunno,” Chaco replied, closing his eyes. “Do you…do you suppose you could just leave me alone for a while?”
Sierra returned to her magazine, glancing at his tense, gray face every so often. When the stewards came by with trays of lunch, Chaco shook his head without opening his eyes.
When the screaming began, Sierra nearly jumped out of her skin, and she wasn’t the only one. A female flight attendant was shrieking incoherently in the rear of the plane, where the galley and restrooms were located for economy class passengers. Other attendants crowded around her, and her shrieks stopped abruptly. But not before Sierra heard, “Green! Monster! I saw it…!”
“Oh no,” Sierra moaned. “Oh no, no, that’s just what we need!”
People were still craning in their seats, trying to see what was going on. The curtain had been drawn across the galley space, concealing whatever was happening.
Roused by the commotion, Chaco asked, “What was that all that about?”
“It’s Fred,” Sierra whispered grimly. “It has to be Fred. The flight attendant was screaming about a green monster. Sound familiar?”
Chaco closed his eyes again. “Figures.” Sierra waited for more, but he remained silent.
“What are we going to do? Fred will be a disaster on this trip, which is why I told him—firmly!—that he couldn’t come with us,” Sierra asked.
“I don’t know.”
“We have to do something.”
Chaco shifted his long body slightly to face her and opened his eyes. “Look, Sierra. I have no more idea than you do. In fact, I think I’m in real trouble here.”
Sierra looked at his pale face and anguished eyes. “Are you sick?”
“It’s worse than that,” he responded miserably. “I’m mortal.”
“Mortal? Mortally ill, you mean?”
“No. Mortal. As in, I’m just like you, now. I’m not an Avatar anymore. I can get sick. I can die.”
All thoughts of Fred forgotten, Sierra said, “How do you know? How is that even possible?”
Chaco shook his head. “Wouldn’t you know if all your blood left your body? I mean, just for an instant before you died? I’ve been severed from the numinous, the sphere in which we Avatars exist. The power source has been unplugged, if that makes more sense.”
Sierra absorbed this in silence. Finally, she said, “But you’re still alive. So cutting you off from the, um, numinous doesn’t kill you?”
Chaco rolled his eyes. “Apparently not.”
“Okay. Why don’t you try to turn into a coyote? If you can do that, it proves you’re okay.” In addition to being an outwardly young and indisputably handsome young man, Chaco was Coyotl the Trickster, demigod and culture hero of many Native American traditions. Sierra was so rattled that she didn’t consider what her fellow passengers’ response might be to a coyote lounging in a nearby window seat.
Chaco looked at her, his golden-amber eyes now dulled to hazel. Dark circles beneath his eyes made them appear sunken. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past hour?”
“Oh.” Sierra sat quietly for a long time, thinking. Eventually, she asked, “How did you get separated from the, um, numinous, anyway? How could something like that happen?”
Chaco roused himself from his lethargy. “I don’t know. It’s never happened before. I could make an educated guess, though. I think it’s because I’m no longer connected to my land, the land that created me. I think my land is the source of my power. I’ve never been on an airplane before, so I didn’t know this would happen.”
“We’re thousands of feet in the air. When we get to Hawai‘i, we’ll be on land again—maybe you’ll get it back. Hawai‘i is part of the United States, after all,” Sierra said, trying to comfort her friend.
Chaco brightened a little at this,
but his enthusiasm flickered and died. “I don’t know as much as I should about things like history and geography, but wasn’t Hawai‘i built by volcanoes in the middle of the ocean?”
Sierra nodded.
“And when did Hawai‘i become part of the United States?”
Sierra’s dark brows knit together as she tried to remember. She gave up. “I’m not sure, but it was probably about 60 years ago.”
Chaco groaned, almost inaudibly. “So Hawai‘i isn’t part of my land at all. It’s something different. The people there are probably not even Native Americans.”
This Sierra did know. “They’re Polynesians. They came from Tahiti, I think. Once you get your feet on the ground, maybe you’ll feel better.”
“Maybe,” he said, directing a morose gaze out of the little window at the clouds.
• • •
The trip was originally supposed to be a fun vacation with Sierra’s fiancé, Clancy. At least, Sierra thought it would be fun, but as Clancy pointed out, his idea of an island vacation had more to do with drinking fruity tropical drinks on the beach than with counting albatross chicks. Nonetheless, he had gone along with her plans for a one-month stint on Midway Island. It was an ecotourism gig that allowed some twenty volunteers at a time onto Midway to help biologists monitor the bird life. The island was a national wildlife refuge that provided breeding grounds for millions of sea birds, including several endangered species. The volunteers lived on Midway for a month, counting chicks and cleaning up plastic from the Great Pacific Garbage Patch so that adult birds wouldn’t mistake the colorful bits of plastic for food and feed it to their nestlings—thereby killing them.
But Clancy’s boss had asked (demanded) that he cancel his scheduled vacation. Sierra was upset by this, but she understood. Clancy was head of security at a high-tech Silicon Valley firm. The president of the United States had scheduled a visit to the plant to highlight her support of American technology—and Clancy’s vacation was sacrificed amid promises of more vacation time later.