by Rin Chupeco
“I won’t.” That felt good to know.
“Yer mum’s people have a saying,” her father said quietly. “About there being a hundred names for magic in the Tagalog language. A bit like that old song about native Alaskans having fifty words for snow. Every culture gets to make that claim, but it’s particularly true with Filipinos, I think.”
“Like agimat?” Tala’s Tagalog needed some brushing up, but that’s what they’ve always called their Makiling curse.
“Aye. And kulam, and anting-anting, and some others you don’t expect. Harana, tadhana. Yer mother would know more than me. What I mean is, you’ve got magic in your blood, love. You can’t take it out of you any more than you can will yourself to stop breathing. Y’got a whole language of charms. You’re beautiful spells, you and your mother.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Your father’s laying it on thick tonight.”
He grinned suddenly, leaning over to give her a swift, fierce kiss. “Did it work?”
Tala groaned. “Gross, guys.”
Carefully, her mother placed the dress back into the wrappings and slid the lid over it. “We just wanted to make sure you’re prepared for what might happen,” she said, more seriously now. “I… The idea of the Snow Queen infiltrating a government agency on American soil… We need to take precautions. I only wish it didn’t have to come to this. We wanted to give you a normal life for just a little bit longer.”
Tala shook her head. “I’m not complaining. You’ve always taught me that some things are more important. And I want to help Alex any way I can. And also…in exchange for, you know, being really, really understanding about this whole thing, I was wondering…”
Her father raised an eyebrow. “Out with it, girl.”
“Any chance I could still attend the bonfire after the championship game tomorrow?” Alex did say he wouldn’t miss it for anything, so there was a small chance he might actually show up before they spirited him away.
And Ryker will be there, a selfish part of her piped up.
“Absolutely not,” her father began with a snort, but was stopped by an elbow to the side from her mother.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” she promised.
Her father grunted, but obediently followed her mother out the door. Once there, however, he stopped, turning back toward her. “Tala…”
The expression from before was back on his face: guilty, pained, haunted somehow. She’d never seen her father look like this before.
“Dad?”
But then he ran a hand through his hair, and the look disappeared. “Nothing. It’s going to be okay, love.” And then he stepped out of the room and was gone, Tala staring after him.
5
In Which the Firebird Is an Absolute Unit
The firebird arrived in Invierno later that night.
It landed atop a normal-looking mailbox. The mailbox had a Tawalisi, 22 Dharma Road decal printed on its side, and it stood in front of a normal-looking house on a normal-looking street in what was by all appearances a normal-looking suburb. Despite the town’s predilection against natural magic, most people still didn’t associate Invierno as a place where anything unusual was likely to happen. That didn’t say much about what people actually knew about small towns, or about Invierno in particular.
Rather than retreat to the safety of nearby trees and rooftops as any similarly sensible animal would have done, the firebird drew itself up, as regal as any queen, and waited for the shades to attack.
The shades in question were already closing in, and they assumed frightening, monstrous shapes. Some took human form, with long sharp claws in place of hands. Others took on semblances of wolves and bears and strange winged creatures—black eyeless silhouettes with teeth.
The firebird chirped a warning, but the shades paid no attention. So it sighed, a resigned, I-really-did-warn-you-about-this-you-know sigh, and glowed again. It was as large as an eagle and had a fascinatingly plump shape; a ham of a bird would be a frank description, if not for its long graceful neck. Its feathers, a variety of yellows and reds and oranges tipped with a subtle silver shimmer, flared. Its majestic tail fanned out like a vestal train, whipping at slow, concentrated intervals.
It chirped out its first, and final, warning.
The nearest shade reached out for the bird, claws extended and sharp.
It was promptly engulfed in an angry red ball of fire.
The shadow screamed. Its right arm skittered across the pavement.
Flames danced around the firebird. With unerring precision, it reared back and hurled them at the other shadowy wraiths, bathing the street in ruddy red heat until its enemies were reduced to nothing more than a whisper of cinders and smoke.
But even as they sank, new ones rose to take their place.
The shades were numerous, unrelenting. The firebird was young, inexperienced. Despite its ferocity, even it began to weaken under the unending assault.
Things could have ended very badly had Lola Urduja not interfered.
Lola Urduja looked nothing at all like a warrior should look. Framed against the moonlight, she appeared an incredibly fragile and elderly thing, with her mild brown eyes, dark skin, and thin white hair wrapped in a wispy bun. For armor, she wore an oversize peach bathrobe for her slim frame, and was for some reason still carrying an abanico fan in her right hand. But when she lifted her head to confront the lurking shadows, her back straightened, her shoulders squared, and the once-mild brown eyes blazed with an unexpectedly commanding air that proposed other unimportant things like cars and airplanes and even shades should best get out of her way.
“This house is under the protection of the Katipuneros, by Avalon military decree number 1082,” she boomed, in a voice larger and fiercer than her body size allowed for. “Take another step and be snuffed out like the insignificant shadows you are, you reverse-projected, two-dimensional Jungian rejects!”
The shades halted momentarily, as if puzzled by the old woman’s audacity. But all too soon their inexorable natures reasserted themselves, and they continued their relentless trek forward.
“Beta formation code 135, defensive maneuvers!”
More people of indeterminate old age emerged from hiding places behind bushes and trees, vaguely threatening, only they had not been wearing bathrobes. But they were armed…with more abanico fans, a cane, and in one instance even a makeshift shiv, because General Luna had once been in prison for three days and had consequently Learned Things there.
And they were good at fighting. They knew where to hit, how to inflict the worst hurt. Shadows shrieked as the innocent-looking fans—or more specifically, the hidden blades lining the edges of the thin abaca fabric—dug into them, twisting and grasping, until soon even the endless darkness showed signs of faltering.
“Teejay,” Lola Urduja said, “shade at five o’clock.”
The tita, her hair still pinned up by large rollers, obeyed, punching a fan through the shadow’s chest before it could reach the other woman.
“Hold your position, Heneral,” Lola Urduja said to old General Luna, who had planted himself in front of the house next door. “Don’t let them in!”
“Mga antipatika!” the octogenarian barked, then cheerfully shanked a shadow into nothingness.
A few of the shades crept toward her, sentient enough to recognize the little old lady’s importance, but Lola Urduja lunged, was quicker than her limp suggested. Her fan twisted, and the sharp knives underneath the stretched cloth tore into the creatures as if they were wet paper. She whipped it toward another approaching shadow, and an abrupt flick of her wrist summoned a sudden roaring wind, slashing the darkness into pieces without ever making contact.
The firebird and the elders fought the shades all night long. Finally, as dawn touched the sky with the colors of sunrise, the last of the creatures slunk away, disappearing
into the sidewalk just as quickly as they had arrived.
Wearily, the firebird watched them leave, the flames in its feathers dimming. When the last flickered out, it sighed and closed its eyes, returning to its perch atop the mailbox.
Adrenaline faded, was taken out of the elders’ veins like an IV drip. They mumbled and scuffed at the ground with their feet and looked rightfully embarrassed. This was technically not appropriate behavior for old men and women, though the awed grins had some trouble leaving their creased faces.
“Hadn’t seen this much action since Wonderland,” Boy signed.
“Nakakamiss,” Chedeng murmured, reverting briefly to Tagalog. “Good times.”
“Punyeta,” the general agreed.
“Natakot ba natin?” Baby asked Lola.
The little old woman pursed her lips. “No. They’ll be back. Umalis na kayo. Won’t be good for Tala to see us out here on the lawn. She’ll have questions.”
“The firebird is here,” Chedeng said, not without some awe. “Mare, it really is the firebird!”
“Control your excitement, Mercedes. This is far from over.”
The door to 24 Dharma Road opened, and Kay Warnock emerged with a can of beer in hand, yawning.
“So good of you to help,” Lola Urduja said dryly.
“Y’did a good enough job without me.”
“A little too early to be drinking.”
“On the contrary. After what just happened, I think it’s a fine time to start.”
“Lumina?”
“Making coffee for the rest o’ ye.”
“Tala?”
“Still fast asleep.”
A large orange cat wandered onto the lawn. It glanced at what appeared to be feathered breakfast, until the firebird opened one eye and shot it a look that could peel bark. The tabby weighed its options carefully, finally discarding the obvious choice in favor of the one that championed self-preservation. It settled at the farthest end of the garden.
Kay took a long drink. “Now what?”
“It came a day early,” said Lola Urduja. “Or perhaps not. For all our careful planning, we’d forgotten about time zones, and that Avalon would be ten hours ahead. As far as it’s concerned, it’s right on time. That it arrived at all is something to celebrate.”
“Pangitain, is what that is,” the general muttered. “An omen.”
“This is a bloody big event, Sarge,” Kay rumbled. “You’re eerily calm about it.”
“So are you. Everyone thought the Snow Queen was dead. Tonight suggests she is not. You don’t seem surprised.”
Kay inclined his head. “I’d hoped she was dead. But I’d never believed the accounts.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a product of her magic, technically speaking. If she were truly dead, then I would be too.”
“Rather fatalistic today.”
“You suggesting I wouldn’t kill her where she stands if I see her again?”
“No. I think you absolutely would. And that’s part of the problem.” She turned to scrutinize the firebird again. The creature screwed up its eyes and scrutinized her right back. “But why skip King Andrei’s and King Ivan’s birthdays and appear for Alexei’s?”
“I don’t exactly know how to go about interrogating a bloody bird.”
“Why not? You’ve worked together in the past.”
The firebird had been studying Kay carefully. Now it gave him a quick, decisive nod.
“Aye, looks like it remembers me. Ilya didn’t give us enough time to make our acquaintances before it all came down. Y’saved a lot of people, mate.”
The firebird ducked its head and deigned to look modest.
“You’re supposed to find Alex, though, instead o’ going off an’ getting yerself killed. We didn’t wait decades only for you to be chewed up by an army of shades.”
The firebird emitted a haughty little sniff.
“Th’ years must’ve been soft on ye. Y’ve gotten to be an absolute unit, haven’t ye?”
It swiveled its neck and hissed, offended, then promptly ignored him.
“Trust you to insult the one thing capable of leveling this whole town,” Lola Urduja said, tart as tart can be. “Still, so troubling to see shades here when the Invierno curse should have prevented their presence. Never this many nightwalkers in the west before, not since that whole business with the Darling girl. The Snow Queen’s demise has been greatly exaggerated. Question is: Were they after you, or were they after Alex?”
The firebird eyed her doubtfully.
“Alex should have had his ceremony at Maidenkeep, the way it had always been for centuries. You acknowledging him as the rightful ruler of Avalon, unashamed and for all to see. Not him hiding like a fugitive, fearing for his life at every turn. But the Tsareviches no longer control Maidenkeep. I’m sure you’ve seen the frost. You must know what that wretched Snow Queen had done.”
It bowed its head, sorrowful.
Lola Urduja closed her eyes. “I see,” she said softly. “You suffered horribly. In many ways, you did die at Wonderland.”
“Ye can understand it?” Kay asked.
“I do understand it, but not because it speaks a language.” She stroked at its plume, and it purred. “Even the most powerful magic has its limits. It took some time to reconstitute itself, to gain back even a fraction of what it had lost. But will that be enough to protect Alex? He’s got enough problems without the prophecies making things worse. Or are you painting another target on his back, little firebird?”
The firebird indicated, by several complicated gestures with its wings and a lot of glowering, that it was just as capable of protecting Alex as the geriatrics division next door.
“What do you intend to do, then?”
The firebird sniffed. Then it stretched to its full wingspan and flew off.
“Er,” Kay said. “We supposed to let it go just like that?”
“I highly doubt we can force it once it’s made up its mind.” Lola Urduja turned as Baby approached. “Send word to Peets. The firebird’s on its way to Alex, and I want as many eyes on it as possible. Between it and the shades, we cannot leave anything else to chance. Any word on the Banders?”
“They all should be here in another hour.”
“Good. The more allies with boots on the ground, the better,” Lola Urduja said.
“Summon the rest of the cavalry, Baby. We’ve got ourselves a situation.”
* * *
Tala knew nothing of what had happened earlier that morning. All she knew was that her father was being an infuriating jerk about the whole bonfire thing.
Breakfast had been a test of wills. Tala had held out for a four-hour minimum at the desert, but her father had refused to agree to anything above two, which wasn’t an option. If that was all they could spare her, then she may as well not go at all, which was what her father was probably counting on. That was when her mother had offered a solution.
“You’re both going to the bonfire?” Tala wasn’t sure about that either. The average age of people attending generally topped off at seventeen years old, and her parents would stick out like old mold on a tray of really young sandwiches.
Her mother caught the stricken look on her face and rolled her eyes. “Tala, I’ve been to my share of concerts and celebrations. I’ve even been to Burning Man once.”
“You complained about the sand down your shorts the entire time,” her husband reminded her. “And you punched a guy for getting so stoned, he thought your shoes were pretzels.”
“You did?” Tala asked.
“The point,” her mother continued hurriedly, “is that we can have a good time at bonfires as much as a teenager can. Being a little older doesn’t mean we’re ancient, Tala. I was a pretty cool kid too. I’ve been to Pantera concerts.”
�
��What’s a Pantera?”
“We won’t get in yer way, is what she’s saying,” her father responded, intervening quickly. “Embarrassing you is the last thing we want.”
Tala glared at him. “I don’t know. Parents have a knack for it even if they’re not intending to.”
Her father spread his hands. “We’ll stay on the other end of the bonfire if you’d like. We oughta settle some house rules, though. No booze. No smoking. No boys within touching distance. Or girls, if’n they have the same intentions. I’m an open-minded bloke, s’long as they stay away.”
“Dad!” Tala nearly choked on her orange juice. “Look, I promise not to smoke or drink, but I don’t want you freaking out if some boy talks to me and—”
Her father scowled. “Is there a particular boy in mind?”
“This is the best we can offer, Tala.” Her mother took over. “We need to take precautions, and you know why. It’s a good compromise. It would be much safer if we were nearby, and you’d still get to enjoy the party.”
Tala groaned. “Okay. Fine. Do whatever you want. But can you at least stop Dad from going on a rampage if some guy wants to strike up a conversation, please? He’s acting like I’ve never had boys in my classes before.”
“I’ll handle your father,” her mother promised, placing Tala’s packed lunch on the table.
“I can hear you, Lumina,” her father grumbled.
“I know, mahal. That serves as a warning to you too.” And then her mother leaned across the table, smiling knowingly. “And when Tala’s comfortable enough to talk about it, she can bring whoever it is home so she can introduce them to us.”
Tala groaned. “Yeah, I’m out of here.”
“Wait.” Her father tossed a duffel bag her way.
She caught it. “What’s this?”
“Another gift.”
It was a pair of arnis sticks. Tala hefted them experimentally. They didn’t look any different than the ones she usually practiced with, but they also felt hollow, somehow.
“Should help you channel your agimat easier. Created by a spellforger I knew once, won’t trigger any magic sniffers. You can channel through it, make it easier for you to stop spells a mile away. Think of it as an extension of you.”