by K W Quinn
“I have flaming work to do. Leave me to it.” Ravi’s voice was getting louder even as his arguments got weaker.
“Your work will be what you’re assigned by the Conglomerate. I hear there are some openings in Waste Management.” Ravi wasn’t charmed by Marv’s smile, but that was fine. Marv would pull every string he could to make sure this man suffered.
“Take the flaming woman, I tell ya. I won’t be Bonded. I’m—” Ravi’s voice gurgled as the Enforcers wrapped immovable fingers around his throat.
“You are no longer under your control,” Marv said. “You belong to the Conglomerate, and we will extract your debt.” Slowly and painfully.
Marv jerked his head toward the waiting truck, and Ravi was hauled out into the street. Maybe Ravi would resist too much, and he’d have to be subdued. Marv could hope.
“Mrs. Ravi?” Marv whispered. She didn’t respond at all. “Mrs. Ravi, we haven’t met, but I’m a friend of Andy’s.” She flinched at her son’s name but didn’t look up. “Please, I want to try to help you.”
Marv reached for her arm, cupping her elbow gently.
She curled in on herself, shaking her head. Ravi was wrong. This woman wasn’t used up. Marv could see that she was a barely contained storm, meek out of necessity, not nature. He didn’t know how to free her.
Coaxing her toward him, he reached for the front door.
A boom from next door shook the porch, and Marv pulled Mrs. Ravi behind him.
“Get your filthy hands off of her.” Cass’s mom crossed the tiny shared space between the houses, hair blowing behind her.
“Mrs. Argi,” Marv started, but the rest of his words were ripped from his throat as the air from his lungs rushed out. He tried to suck in a breath. The air wouldn’t move.
“Miyana, run!” she shouted, hands spinning as she stormed forward.
Marv could feel Mrs. Ravi—Miyana, apparently—trembling behind him, and he clutched her arm. Spots danced in his vision as he fought to breathe. The Enforcers should be helping, but they were still pushing Ravi into the truck’s holding cell. How could they ignore the gale and screaming?
But the wind didn’t reach that far. The truck was untouched. Was she manipulating the sound the same way she moved the wind?
Cass’s mother pushed her hands forward with a growl, and Marv was pushed back, stumbling and falling on his knees. The wood beneath him splintered, snagging in his pants. He slipped off the porch, feeling the weeds crunch beneath him.
Darkness pressed at the edges of his vision. The dirt around the house was too damp and heavy for him to manipulate. He hated every minute he’d spent learning business instead of magic. He was going to suffocate here.
“Miyana, now,” Mrs. Argi screamed, hands clawing at the sky. The scarf around her hair was torn loose by the furious wind, and it flew up to the bitter clouds.
Marv couldn’t move his legs. Too heavy. Everything was heavy. Miyana slid toward the edge of the porch. She was looking at Marv now and shook her head.
“Helori, stop. He knows Andy.”
“He’s Earth, and I don’t trust any of them.”
Marv felt cold. Wind whipped his skin, mocking his frozen lungs.
“Don’t do this. Let’s just go.” Miyana pulled on her friend’s sleeve.
“If we want to get out of here, I have to do this.”
Marv shook his head, pleading for his life with his eyes. It wasn’t very effective. Mrs. Argi stepped forward, and Marv could see the wildness in her gaze. Somewhere thunder rumbled, or maybe it was just the desperate pounding of his heart in his ears.
“Do better, Son of the Mountain.”
Air rushed back into Marv’s lungs. Why? Wasn’t she going to kill him? She backed away, still twisting her fingers in invisible threads of Air. Her face split into a smile that curdled Marv’s stomach.
“Helori, come on.” Miyana stared at the Enforcers. Marv saw they were climbing out of the truck now. “It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, it’s worth it. They deserve it. And worse.”
Marv couldn’t argue. He wanted to tell them that he was different. That he could help. That he would do better.
“Protect yourself, Helori. Keep the secret.” Miyana was shaking. Marv was shaking. The air was shaking. Only Cass’s mom was still. Eye of the storm.
“Now,” Helori said, and her fingers closed into fists. She stepped off the porch and pushed Miyana along in front of her. As they ran, she said, “Call Charly.”
Marv didn’t have time to wonder who the bloody ash Charly was because, at that instant, rain slapped down everywhere. It was so thick, he couldn’t see the women running, though they couldn’t have made it out of the yard yet.
“Mr. Rowan, what the flaming ash is going on?” The Enforcers were at his side, dripping and disgruntled.
Marv shook his head and lifted a hand. He was hauled to his feet. He winced at the pricking on his knees. Running a hand along his pants confirmed that the suit was ruined. Least of his concerns at the moment.
“Is Ravi secured?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we need to get back to the Capital as soon as possible. We got what we came for.”
“What about the women, sir?”
Marv pressed his hand to his chest, grateful for the easy rhythm of his breath. “Not our concern right now.”
He’d just watched an Air pull a deluge out of the sky. That shouldn’t be possible. That wasn’t an Air talent. It was a dangerous talent and one that some very dangerous people would be interested in hearing about.
“I want a towel and a stiff drink,” he said as he sprinted to the truck. He needed to keep this information out of the wrong hands. A Mistwalker right under their noses. Marv had a knife’s edge to walk to keep Hades from breaking the ground open.
Hope
Andy found the monotony of the coast soothing. Each little town was a mix and match of the same flaming things. Dolphin art, windmills, surf shops. Reality was different here. Water towns where tourists visited got preferential treatment.
Andy still wouldn’t let Cass steal, even from rich Earths slumming it on the beaches. He really wished he knew how to fish. He watched Water families pulling lines and traps. The ocean took care of them, fed them. The sun and the air were not so forthcoming.
They wandered this kitschy little town, hungry but trying to make the best of it. It took a step or two before Andy realized that Cass had stopped. He was watching a dancer on the corner. She had music playing from a tiny Bluetooth speaker next to a basket with a few dollars and coins in it. It didn’t take a second glance to see why Cass was so entranced.
She was amazing. Fluid and crisp in turns, she moved as if the music were pushing her. The music was a living force. Her hair, or some sort of headpiece, spun around her in a flash of colors. She wore loose silk pants that fluttered. She jumped and twirled. Ribbons dangled from her elbows and wrists. A bowl of clear water near her feet provided her with fuel as she pulled ribbons of water, dancing droplets, up with her slender fingers. Tiny bells on her ankles tinkled and twinkled in the sunlight.
The song ended, and she posed dramatically, breathing hard and smiling wide. She bent to pause the music and then swept around the small crowd with her basket out. Up close, her high cheekbones and bold nose said she had a strong Water heritage. Was this her home?
She smiled, and her eyes crinkled. “Did you enjoy?” Her voice was raspy, and her smile was bright. She eyed Andy and Cass speculatively.
“Oh yeah. Totally. That was incredible.” Cass gushed. “It looked like you were pulling your ribs apart at that one part where you went whoosh, and then the spin? I didn’t even know humans could get their legs to do that. It was mesmerizing, and I—” Cass ended with a grunt. Andy’s elbow made sharp contact with his ribs.
“We enjoyed it very much. Thank you, but we’re not able to contribute at this time,” Andy said and bowed his head. He pulled Cass away.
“No worries, l
oves. A smile like yours is as good as cash. Well, almost,” the dancer said with a chuckle. Cass was still gawking over his shoulder. Andy tugged him along.
“Come on, Cass. We don’t have money for street performers. We need to be making a flaming plan.” Andy was grateful for the many tiny parks with benches that they could stop and loiter at without raising suspicion.
They walked the path back to the van after they’d exhausted the downtown square. Two blocks in every direction, then the town fizzled out to either sand or rock or road. It was a healthy little spot. Plenty of traffic from the highway. No shops closed or in need of repairs. No one posting Help Wanted signs, either.
In the van, Cass divided the last of a scone and propped his feet up on the dash.
“We should split up, hit up the shops, and ask if they need help cleaning windows or unloading boxes or whatever.”
“Uh-huh,” Cass answered. He was staring out the windshield, chewing on his bottom lip.
Andy ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, what are our marketable skills other than manual labor? I’m a night-light, and you’re a puffer. So we can, um, do bloody moonlight tours of the coast in a sailboat?”
“Dude, we’d need a sailboat.”
“Obviously. I didn’t think there was such a thing as a town without a single Starbucks. I was half hoping you could pick up some shifts like a transfer from your store. Everyone needs a barista, right?”
“Not a bad idea, except that if someone is looking for me, going to my old job seems like not the greatest thing to do.” Cass wiped crumbs on his pants. “I could make up a fake name and try to get a shift that way, but they’re a big company. They’d check identification and stuff.”
“Yeah. So grunt work it is.” Andy sighed and let his head rest against the side of the van. He was fairly well fed and rested, all things considered. He’d do fine moving boxes or sweeping storerooms.
“You know, I know it’s not quite the same as dancing, but I bet you could do some gymnastics tricks. Put a hat out for tips like the lady today. You know, flips and stuff. Roll around and look impressive.”
“Thanks for distilling over a decade of practice into ‘flips and stuff,’” Andy said, staring at the ceiling. Cass was right, though. He’d had the same idea. Free to do the things that he could, the things he was best at, without all the rules and requirements of a competition. No pressure to win was appealing. Then again, the pressure to earn enough to eat wasn’t light, either.
“Dude, you’d be super at it. People would totally stop to watch,” Cass continued.
“Yeah, but would they pay? Just to see a tiny Fire gymnast? That’s the real question. This town seems like it’s mostly Water, and Fire and Water haven’t always gotten along.”
“Your mother is Air, like mine. You’re a Helio anyway. Dazzle them with lights, and they’ll see that you’re not some Fire thug here to beat them up for their lunch money.”
“No, I’m here to ‘flip and stuff’ until they give it to me willingly.”
“Exactly.” Cass rested his hands behind his head and took a deep breath of the sea air. “If we can get enough to get a meal, maybe a little more gas, then we can move on to the next town up the coast. We might be able to make it like that.”
“But don’t you need, like, a permit to do that kind of stuff? I mean, what if we get arrested for disturbing the peace or whatever?”
“Now you sound like your dad. You picked up more cop stuff than I thought,” Cass teased.
“Shut up. You know what I mean. Water town or not, if we get arrested, we go straight back to the Earth.”
Cass nodded. “We need to talk to that dancer lady. If we can find her again.”
“Are you looking for another chance to try and flirt? Because I don’t think your enthusiastic word vomit was working.” Andy smiled at the preening Cass.
“Oh, just you wait.”
Two paths left this fertile Ag town. Ag town full of rebels. Reyah shook her head. She wasn’t the only one on a weird job. She should check the soulprint here, feel what the target felt, and decide where he went.
That was reasonable, logical, and in line with all her training. Instead, she grabbed a flower from the greenbelt and began plucking petals. Coast, mountains, coast, mountains, coast. With the final petal pinched in her fingers, she started her car. Coast made sense. They wouldn’t want to travel deeper into Earth territory. Reyah would follow the coast north.
Putting thoughts of rebels and Sharks out of her head, she retraced her steps back to the salt and waves. Those waves had saved her from drowning in the target’s soul. Maybe it was because she was blue. It was as good a reason as any other she could imagine.
The Elements had always been indifferent to her. Practical magic was slippery and hard to control. Dragonkin magic was beyond her reach. She had her strength and her training. Mind over matter. She hadn’t failed on a job, and she wouldn’t now. Tarone had taught her better than that.
Tarone was a good man. He was fair and centered, but the more jobs she did, the more she wondered if she was really the good guy. Enforcing justice, defending the law. It sounded right, but it had started to rub her the wrong way. Rebels were outside the law, but if a law was unjust, were rebels wrong?
Reyah tossed her braid over her shoulder. This line of thinking was slowing her down. If she wanted to keep rising in the ranks of Dragons to someday become the Dragon and follow in Tarone’s footsteps, she needed to get this job completed. She’d worked hard to get where she was and didn’t want one weird job to throw her off track.
Waves splashed up on craggy rocks, making tiny rainbows in the seafoam. Reyah stretched at a rest stop, deciding to find dinner at the next decent-looking town. If she could distract herself the right amount, her background thinking might come up with a useful idea.
The next little town wasn’t much. Just a couple of blocks around a city square dotted with little green spaces and park benches. This close to the ocean, autumn came late, and winter left early. Still, the breeze was nice, and she grabbed a cup of tea from a small cafe.
Across the street, she spotted a dancer. A tangle of ribbons and limbs. She couldn’t hear the music, but she was fascinating to watch even without it. A riot of color, the dancer twisted and spun, smiling and waving her arms above her head.
Reyah smiled. What must it be like to move so freely? Her practice forms were a bit like a dance but a very rigid one, full of control and precision. This dance was like the physical embodiment of laughter.
The dancer ended in an elegant pose, hands lifted high. Even from this distance, Reyah could see the rise and fall of the dancer’s chest as she caught her breath. It was such a different kind of exertion. Reyah itched to try it. She shifted her feet slightly, trying to mimic the turnout of the dancer’s feet, but from far away, it was a clumsy attempt.
Her heart felt warm, and the burden of her task lifted momentarily. She was content to watch and enjoy the performance. She took a sip of her tea and nearly choked.
The dancer moved to the edge of the crowd, and there at the fringe, a soft light glowed. The dancer leaned forward and spoke to the target, who was putting something in the basket.
Right there. The target was right there. Across the street. In plain sight. Within reach. Reyah knew she couldn’t take him out in the open like this without creating a scene. There wasn’t enough Earth around to support her, but her heart raced. He was here, and she could track him again. The urge to rush to him was almost a physical pull.
He glowed. His soul glowed, and the Bonded was right there with him, talking with his hands and looking concerned. Reyah’s forehead creased, and she took a long swallow of her tea. She’d caught up with them, and she needed to keep them in sight long enough to lure them away from the crowd. Then she could be done.
She was grateful for the training that helped her push past jangled nerves and excitement. She was just another casual tourist watching a street performer. She angled herself
to the other side of the crowd so she could watch the target while watching the dancer. Was he as warm as his glow? Would she be able to keep her hands to herself? She wanted to get closer, stand right next to him, beside him, between him and the Bonded.
She could. They didn’t know her. But dragonkin weren’t exactly unobtrusive, and she didn’t want to be noticed yet. The breeze stirred. The dancer’s ribbons fluttered. Reyah watched as obliquely as she could.
Collaboration
She’d moved to a different corner, but the dancer wasn’t hard to find. When they reached the square, there was a burst of applause coming from around the corner. They followed the sound and found her set up outside the square.
Cass slid his way to the edge of the crowd, moving to the front as politely as possible. The dancer saw him and gave a wink. Cass tucked his hands in his pockets and rubbed the few dollars Andy had allowed him to use as a tip, hoping it was enough to entice her to talk.
She probably wouldn’t want them to perform anywhere near here and steal her tips, but if she could give them some idea of how to do it, they could be on their way and out of her hair.
She was telling the story of the next song, the next dance. She moved her hands to paint a picture. Her head was covered with elaborately colored yarn that hung down like a mane. She spun, pants fluttering, bells singing.
This dance was much more fluid than before. Less precision and snapping movements. More like she had been poured from a jar of honey and set to music.
The red and gold of her hair, streaked with rich purple and vivid pink, made her stand apart from the green and blue that dominated the little coastal town. She was a flash of sunset, twirling and bending.
Cass heard murmurs of appreciation from the crowd and wasn’t shy about adding his own surprised and delighted exclamations. The music was rich and low, pulling at his heart with a longing he couldn’t name.