by K W Quinn
It was like homesickness but for somewhere he’d never been. Somewhere warm and rich, like cinnamon. It tumbled around his brain, trying to fit into the boxes he understood, but it was nothing like that.
Andy had moved closer too. He watched her dance, and his hands twitched at his sides like he was trying to dissect her movements and translate them into a language his body would understand. Cass had never seen Andy fail at something he’d set his mind to. For a moment, he imagined Andy out there with the dancer.
Andy’s strength and stability would be an interesting contrast to her fluidity and grace. Cass could imagine Andy twisting and tumbling around her, bending and turning himself into a frame that she would fill with color and music.
The dance ended, and she came around with her basket again.
“Back for more, loves?” she panted. Cass could see the sweat on her face, even with the cool breeze. He’d never considered how much work must go into dancing. It just looked like fun. Not like the stuff Andy did. That was work, and dangerous too.
He extended his hand, dropping the few dollars into the basket, and said, “Yes, and if you’re willing, we’d like to talk to you after your performance.”
“Performance. I like that. Sounds professional,” she said with a heart-shaped smile. “Stick around, and we can chat. But I’m telling you right now”—she glanced between him and Andy sharply—“I’m not for sale.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Just want to talk business.” Cass waved his hands hastily, wishing Andy would jump in and save him, but Andy only stared at her.
Her smile snapped back with full force. “Wonderful. Keep watching, loves. The best is yet to come.”
And then she was back in the middle of the crowd with a spin. She raised her voice and addressed everyone gathered.
“Now, from the mountains and the mist, I bring you a dance I learned from a mysterious recluse. A woman only spoken of in whispered rumors. She saved me from the cold in a sudden spring storm, and I danced for her to pay for my supper. A week or more, I stayed in her cabin, regaining my strength. She nursed me back to health. She taught me the dance of her people. So, watch closely, my loves, as Nadezda presents the Fire Dance.”
Andy’s head snapped up. He leaned in to watch closer. Cass had never heard of a Fire Dance. In their little Earth-run town, celebration of any other element was discouraged, if not explicitly forbidden. Mr. Ravi certainly never danced, and Andy wasn’t friends with the other Fires.
They watched Nadezda jump and spin with kicks and stomps. She wasn’t honey anymore. She was the pop and crackle of a burning log. The sweep of sunset was gone from her dance, and in its place was the blaze of embers, the roar of flames. She grabbed two torches, lit them secretly, and spun them effortlessly.
The music had mesmerizing low chanting, drums, and some sort of flute that sounded melancholy and sweet. It drew people from the square. Cass stepped closer. He didn’t want to crowd Nadezda, but he felt pulled.
Across the circle, a girl with her hands wrapped around a cup was taking tentative sips and watching the dance from beneath her hood. She swayed a bit to the music, and it was charming. She must have felt the same pull to the dance as he did.
Beside him, Andy was tapping his thigh to the beat, and Cass joined him. Soon, the crowd was all stomping or clapping, keeping time with their bodies. Nadezda rolled her head and arms, grin wide and welcoming.
The sound filled her and made her shimmer, the light bouncing off her skin like the scatter of sun on the ocean. Cass couldn’t tell if it was magic or just body glitter, but either way, it was amazing.
The beat was a living thing, a pulse through the crowd, and Cass felt connected to everyone in the circle of music. It was electric. It was addictive. Cass wanted to know how to be a part of it.
The song ended, and there was a hushed moment. The crowd seemed to hold its breath. Then applause filled the air, and Nadezda took a sweeping bow. Spinning around the circle, she grabbed the basket and made another pass.
Folks were pushing to the front, eager to get a moment of her attention. Each moment was bought with cash or coin, but the smiles and nods of thanks Nadezda returned looked genuine.
Nadezda sauntered over and stood next to her tiny speaker. She set her basket down between her feet. Crossing her arms and looking back and forth between them, she lifted her chin. “So, what business do you have with me, loves?”
Andy turned to Cass and stretched his eyes wide, jerking his chin toward the dancer. Cass took a deep breath and smiled.
“We loved your performance, and it inspired us. We want to do something similar. Andy”—Cass nodded toward his best friend—“is a gymnast, and we thought maybe instead of dancing, he could do some of his tumbling or whatever. But we wanted to talk to you about how to do it. Not the gymnastics part, obviously. He’s got that, but the logistics part. Like, do you have to have a permit or something to do this? What kind of speaker do you use? What makes the right costume?”
“You want me to teach you everything you need to know about busking in a few minutes on the street?”
“No, of course not. We’d like to buy you dinner.”
“That sounds nice,” she replied with a wide grin.
“Well, we’d like to. But we’re broke. We were hoping we could make some money like you do.”
Nadezda scoffed. “Loves, I’ve worked hard for years to get a show together that comes anywhere close to feeding me. You can’t whip something up overnight and expect it to work. Plus, I don’t need a couple of amateurs like you ruining it for the rest of us. No, loves, you can’t have all the secrets of street art in exchange for a few bucks.” She grabbed her basket and moved to pick up her speaker.
“We didn’t mean to offend,” Andy said. “Honestly. We don’t expect to be good at it. We’re just trying to make ends meet. I never even knew there was such a thing as a Fire Dance, and I don’t want to steal your act, but it looked like something I could do. I mean, I’m a Helio.” He ducked his head as he said it, a little bow. Cass watched Nadezda’s face soften.
“Not too many Fires on the coast,” she said. “The dance is dying out, really. Most Fires have given up the history for stability working for the Earth. No room to be different when you’re trying to fit in.”
The rasp in her voice was stronger now. Cass watched her eyes narrow.
“Look, it’s not an easy life, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone not called to it. It’s hard and stressful, and there’s never enough of anything except worry and songs.”
“But you seem to love it,” Cass said.
“Oh, I do. I love it more than the sky and the sea, but it’s not easy.” She leveled each of them with a stern look. “Look, come to the beach tonight. Before sunset, so you don’t get lost. We’ll talk. I’m not giving away my secrets, you understand, but I can share a bit to get you started.”
Cass and Andy wore matching smiles and spoke over one another in a tumble of thanks and appreciation.
Beach
“Well, that was a deviation from the script,” Cass said.
Andy shoved his hands in his pockets and grunted. Sand wedged under his fingernails, but he had other things on his mind now.
“I’m not complaining, because I think you’re what changed her mind. I’m wondering what changed yours.” Cass had his smug smile on. The one that made Andy’s jaw ache from the force of grinding his teeth. Cass was right way too often.
They took a few steps in silence before Andy spoke. “I’ve never liked being a Fire. I never wanted to be an Air, either. Not that there’s anything wrong with you, other than, you know.” He waved his hand at Cass’s face.
“Yes, right, continue.”
“I know it’s a lot harder for you. But Fire? So many bullies. Quick-tempered, angry, with this messed-up sense of entitlement. Like the world owes them a gift just because they exist. We didn’t invent Light, but most Fires act like they own it. Like my dad. And then my mom was—”
/>
“Passive.”
Andy nodded, chewing on his thumb. “I mean, she did so much and took care of me and everything. When it was just us, she was so much fun. But she never used her talents when Dad was around, and I think it bothered her that I look so much like him. I wish I looked more like her. Like you.”
“Nah. No one wants to be some mixed-mutt Air. You know what they say: ‘No two Airs look alike.’”
“Stop. You know that’s trash talk.” Andy ran his hand through his hair, then shook it back into place.
“But there’s truth in it. While the other Elements settled down, Air went around doing what they wanted and having babies with whoever was around. Even Mama Yana and Mom don’t look alike, and they’re Blood sisters.”
“But they’re not related.”
“You know what I mean. They grew up together from the same clutch. I’m just saying it’s better to be a Fire than an Air these days.”
“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t mean I like it. But that dance. It was like there was finally something to be proud of. It was beautiful. Not boastful or destructive. Just beautiful and strong.”
“Like you,” Cass said quietly.
Andy rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all mushy on me, puffer.”
Cass chuckled, and they climbed into the van. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You like it.”
“I do.”
Cass examined the last of their snacks, the bits that Andy had hoarded as though a few stale crumbs would keep them from real starvation. Safety was just a wisp away from danger.
A bonfire glowed in the middle distance, and they made their way toward it. The sun was low, and the wind brought a definite chill from off the water. Andy held the towel filled with sweets while Cass swung his arms and tried to skip.
He nearly made it. He waved to Nadezda, who sat on a log. She waved back. He waved harder. The sand was too soft, and he lost his balance. Andy snorted. Pinwheeling his arms was ineffective, and Cass collapsed, laughing loudly.
“Bringing laughter is a very kind offering,” Nadezda said. They stepped into the light of the bonfire. “I’m curious about what’s in the towel too.”
She was an entirely different person out of her costume. The flowy pants were the same, but her headdress was gone. Instead, she had short, spiky hair in a rainbow of colors. She ruffled it with one hand and gestured to the blanket she’d spread. No bells, no ribbons. Only a simple cotton shirt. Her smile, though, was instantly recognizable. She was still stunning.
“Hello, Nadezda,” Cass said, rocking back on his heels.
“It’s not much,” Andy said and handed over the towel. “Peanut brittle. Homemade, though. I’m Andy, and this is Cass.”
“Greetings, loves. You can call me Dez. Only my grandmother and fans call me Nadezda,” she said, untying the bundle.
“Well, I’m definitely a fan, for whatever it’s worth,” Cass offered.
“Not around my fire, you’re not. This is by invitation only, and I don’t want that ridiculous name clouding the air.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my full name is Andronicus,” Andy offered. Her dark eyes were warm with the dancing light.
“And I’m Calisto.” Cass straightened and spread his hands dramatically. “Calisto Enlil Argi—”
“Whoa there. So many syllables from all over the world. What’s a wet one doing with a name like that?” Dez asked.
Cass startled. “Oh, no. I’m not a we—I’m not a Water. I’m an Air,” he said meekly.
Andy smiled at how Cass stumbled over the derogatory term. It was one thing for Dez to say it. It was another thing completely for either of them to utter it.
“With a face like that?” Dez asked loudly.
Cass’s face was confused. He didn’t look like Dez, not really. They did share the same golden skin and high cheekbones. Cass’s nose was softer, more rounded, but maybe it did have the same high bridge as Dez’s. If you squinted.
Cass stared at Dez and lifted his chin. “Yep. Sixth-generation Air.” He pushed up his sleeve to show her his tattoo. Andy had been there when he’d gotten it, a feather mid-twirl. Cass called it his reminder to be proud of his heritage, no matter what everyone said about Airs.
“On your mother’s side, sure, but I’d bet sand and salt that there’s Water in that family line. A real nymph if you don’t mind me saying.” Dez’s smile was wide and warm.
Andy held his breath. Cass had never taken the insinuation kindly before.
“I suppose coming from you, that means something different than from Earth kids on the playground,” Cass said, each word measured.
“Wave over wave, of course. I’d give my pinky toes to have honest nymph blood. I mean, we all brag about it like it’s a foregone conclusion, but it’s a bit like saying everyone has a unicorn at their other house. Nymphs were legendarily choosy, the way our histories go. Not that garbage propaganda the filthy Conglomerate spits out.”
Cass’s shoulders eased, and Andy smiled. It was nice to hear such open hatred for the biggest thorn in their side.
“Well, then, thank you. The beauty of a nymph is a high compliment indeed.” Cass gave Dez a small bow.
“Don’t get all formal with me, love. Nymphs are more than just alluring faces. They inspire people. They love. They attract. It’s Fae magic, and that’s all too rare these days.” Dez’s smile was wistful, and Andy felt her longing echo in the air.
“My friend’s ex-girlfriend’s cousin is a dryad. She tells some wild stories.” Cass’s voice was too loud, and Andy cringed at his obvious enthusiasm. Cass had no idea how to play it cool.
Dez snorted and crunched on a pretzel. “She would. Bless Bacchus, she would.” Reaching into a cooler at her side, Dez pulled out a red-stoppered bottle. “I’ve got some cider here and tabbouleh. Let’s eat a bit, then we can talk shop.”
Cass and Andy learned a whole new vocabulary. Dez talked about how she grew up dancing and traveling. She learned new dances whenever and wherever she could, with her family at first, then on her own. Now she performed on the street for food and gas money. It kept her going, and the end was the means.
The words were strange, but Cass’s head spun with ideas. Create a hook, find a place to busk, create a stage, build a story, an act, make sound bites, have a reason to take up space. Cass wasn’t sure he wanted to live on the performing trail like Dez, but it did seem like a perfect way to avoid getting captured for now.
Dez made it sound magical. A community of performers, sharing information and helping out. A life both solitary and public. With his Andy. Cass dreamed of the perfect future. His perfect future. Andy’s pain at being on the road, away from a stable home, away from their moms, those things didn’t fit, so Cass blew them out of his mind for now.
“I’ll be the mouth, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Andy agreed, taking his time to place his feet carefully in the shifting sand.
It was warm and soft here, with the ocean shushing them along. Why was the van so far away? “And you picked up that Fire Dance fast. Most of it anyway.”
“It’s in my blood,” Andy boasted.
“I think what’s in your blood is that cider. Blast and bluff, man, that stuff was strong. Like an apple stuffed with dynamite.” Cass rubbed his face and suppressed a giggle. “She thought I was a Water. So weird. I’ve been called a lotta things. Dude. A lot of things. I mean, just because Mom could make a little sprinkle now and then.”
“Yep.” Andy burped. “Weird. But I need a dramatic outfit. Something drama-like.” Andy was counting on his fingers and chewing his bottom lip.
“I wonder if I could make rain. This close to the ocean, the Air is so wet anyway. Maybe I could, like, create some fog. Just mist it up or something.” Cass’s tongue poked out of his lips. He stared at the clear, cloudless sky. “Lots of stars. Stars are Fire, Andy. Maybe you could make one of those.”
“Now who’s full of cider?” Andy giggled. “Stars are too far, but whaddabout lig
htning?”
“Lightning isn’t Fire,” Cass scoffed.
“Of course it is. Electricity. Sets trees on fire. What else would it be?”
“It’s Air. It lives and breathes in the air, from the clouds,” Cass argued.
“Well, if you wanna get super specific, it actually starts from the ground, so by that dumb logic, it’s Earth.”
Cass’s face soured. That wasn’t a comfortable thought. They stumbled to the van and climbed in after several attempts. Too tired to change out of their sandy clothes, they wrapped themselves in blankets and promised to shake everything out in the morning.
“I’ll blow us clean.” Cass snorted.
He yawned. He snored. He dreamed of rain. Great fluffy clouds piling up in the sky, swirling around like cream in coffee, and Cass was at the center. He laughed, and thunder rolled. His fingers sprinkled rain, and Andy was beside him, throwing lightning as he danced. Nadezda was there, too, scowling at them both.
Waking up was a slow, confusing process. Cass struggled to sort out the sounds from his dream with the sound of rain on the roof of the van.
“So much for trying to make money today,” Andy groused next to him. Cass stretched in the tight quarters, but when a loud banging came from the window, he let out a shriek. A grumble of thunder above shook the van like an echo.
“All right, loves. It’s rehearsal time,” called Dez from outside.
Cass and Andy exchanged confused glances but opened the van’s door anyway. Dez pushed her way inside as soon as there was room.
“Oh, nice,” she commented with a waggle of her eyebrows. Cass followed her gaze to where Andy had pulled off his shirt and held it clutched to his chest primly.
“What are you doing here?” Cass croaked. His voice was still asleep somehow.
“Taking pity on a couple of lost causes, much to my regret,” she said and slipped her raincoat off.
“Thanks.” Andy smiled his sunshine smile. It looked less bright inside the now-crowded van.