by K W Quinn
“Don’t thank me yet, love. I’m gonna make you work. You got enough gas to make it to Brookdale?” Dez asked.
“Where’s Brookdale?” Andy asked from inside his shirt. His hair stood on end.
“North a bit and some.”
“So long as ‘a bit’ plus ‘some’ isn’t more than an hour, we should be all right,” Cass said from the back.
“Perfect. Let’s go, little dancer. We’re gonna go practice.”
Andy drove. Dez sat up front and talked with him about the details of dance and physicality. Andy asked a few questions but mostly nodded. Cass nodded off.
When he woke up, it was to wet trees and rocks rushing by the windows. Dez was singing along to the radio, raspy and low as Andy carried a lilting harmony. It felt domestic and comfortable.
Cass’s heart ached for this kind of community. Something more than his mom and his best friend and his best friend’s mom. Real friends. A life that wasn’t struggle and mundane pain.
He closed his eyes. Better to fake sleep than get caught moping. They’d made it this far without being arrested or stranded. Dez might be what they needed to make it a little longer. Guilt and fear had made knots of his spine. Maybe today, he could let them begin to unwind.
Sneak
The target. The Bonded. The dancer. Reyah followed them to the beach. She watched them talk and laugh and dance and drink. She watched the target’s aura, brighter than the bonfire. There were sparks of genuine affection starting to surround the trio.
She should be rushing down to capture and conquer, but she just watched. Her conscience prickled. The target glowed in the firelight, brighter than before. She’d never seen a target do that, though she knew it was technically possible.
Everyone knew the stories. Souls were raw power. They were addictive to some, the weak-willed and the greedy. Reyah wasn’t going to fall for it. What she wanted was to join the party instead of end it. She couldn’t make the capture when she was this tempted.
So she watched. She needed more information. She needed to know why this, why him, why now. Gathering intel was an important Dragon task. She’d spent years learning how to read faces and body language. She was just using her skills. Doing her job. It was getting interesting again.
As the target and the Bonded stumbled back to the van, laughing and unsteady, she could have picked the target off so easily. Silently grabbed him and been far, far away before the Bonded noticed. She could have done it, but she didn’t.
She was afraid. If she touched him, touched that glowing light, maybe her blade wouldn’t strike at all. Maybe she would just consume the soul whole.
She could do that. She’d learned how, but only as a last resort. The extraction would be twice as complicated and infinitely more painful if she did it that way. The soul would also be destroyed.
She’d never wanted to consume a soul before. Never needed to, either. Clients frowned upon extreme measures. Vengeance jobs might use that kind of force, but she never had.
She wanted to now. Her blade seemed too impersonal and cold. She wanted to reach out and grab the light with her bare hands. Her bare hands were too dangerous.
So she waited. Slept in her car and ignored the alluring dreams of golden light and golden skin. When the vibrations of her tracking Spell woke her, she rubbed her eyes and began to follow the van.
She would use stealth and training to track. It was easier to use her eyes and a little psychic push. Up the coast and into the forest, she followed them.
The rain and thunder from the coast followed them for a while, too, before it faded into a gentle patter and mist. Curious weather for this early in the fall.
Curiosity was a tool to be used, but like most of the tools she had, if it was used carelessly, it would cause more harm than good.
She grabbed her phone and stared at it for a long moment before pressing the buttons harder than necessary.
“My girl. How goes the hunt?” Tarone said lightly.
“Fine. I’ve got a visual, and I’m in pursuit.”
“That’s my girl. You’re almost as good as I was at your age.”
“Thanks, Tarone.” She’d heard the compliment before, but it hadn’t lost its warmth yet. “I actually called because I have a question.” She swallowed hard. There had to be a way to put it into words without looking like a coward or a glutton.
“Of course. What do you need? Not backup, surely.”
“No. But soul addiction? I need to know how much of the scary stories they told in training were to keep us on the straight and narrow and how much truth there is to all of it.” She scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for his reply.
The silence stretched. Reyah counted her heartbeats and was well into double digits before Tarone spoke.
“Lots of stories have their heart in truth. We never lied to you, if that’s what you’re after. We told you and showed you only what you need to be both effective and safe.”
“The target glows,” Reyah blurted. It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but it was the loudest thing in her head.
“Oh,” Tarone said. He sighed, and Reyah could picture him rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. “Min is a tricky sort. His moral compass marches to the beat of a different drummer. The job is legitimate, I promise you that.”
Morals and drummers were bigger issues, and she would get into them later. “I know. I read the contract. Everything there is aboveboard, however vague.”
Tarone snorted. “Muses have their ways.”
“But I wonder, have you ever . . .” Reyah paused. She couldn’t accuse Tarone of the things she was afraid she might be doing. Taking an innocent soul. Or worse, not taking it.
“This calling, being a Dragon, it’s never been black and white. Prometheus knows I wish it were,” Tarone said. His voice was home and safety. Always had been. She wanted to trust him. “We navigate the gray area because the world needs us to. There is honor to uphold. The law.”
“It’s different this time.”
“It is. You’re on the right path.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You’re a good girl with a great mind. I know it looks different from other jobs, but—”
“Blood and ash, Tarone, I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t use the soulprint anymore. It scares me,” Reyah confessed in a rush.
“We’ve all been there.”
“I want to be anywhere but here.” She pushed her teeth into her bottom lip. She couldn’t tell him just how deep her doubts ran.
“This isn’t an easy job, and this isn’t a normal target,” Tarone said.
“What did Min tell you? Because I feel like he didn’t give me much to work with.”
“Min didn’t say anything more than he absolutely had to. Never does. Oh, I wish I could wiggle some Truth out of him, but Fae-to-Fae magic is harder.”
“I wish I was older and could use dragonkin magic on him. Whatever that looks like.”
“Incinerate him?” Tarone teased.
“Do I really get to breathe fire someday?” Reyah laughed. Back in familiar territory, the oily twisting in her stomach settled a little.
“Are you taking care of yourself? Have you eaten?” Tarone asked.
“Yes, I—”
“Are you sleeping? And don’t forget to get receipts for accounting.”
“Dad, stop.” Reyah rolled her eyes.
“Oh. Pulling out the ‘dad’ card?” Tarone said with a chuckle.
“You nag me like a little old man.”
“I’m ancient and short.”
“And also my father.”
“All right, fine. But don’t push your luck. I raised you better than that.”
“Yes, Tarone.”
“Look, I trust Min more than most others on the planet, and I know there’s something extraordinary here. Keep on the path, Reyah. Make me proud.”
Reyah swallowed her further questions. Tarone trusted Min. Min needed the soul. Reyah wouldn’t let Tarone
down.
“Fire and flood,” she said finally. The familiar benediction felt heavy on her tongue.
“Fire and flood,” Tarone replied.
Ending the call, Reyah got back in the car and headed back out to the road. Into the forest, she followed the trail and swallowed her pride and fear. The doubts she had would be sorted with hard work. She couldn’t let Tarone down.
Rehearsal
“So, what kind of Water are you?” Cass asked, poking his head between the seats. Andy stared hard at him. This was no way to make friends, asking rude questions.
“The wet kind,” Dez said. “Is there another kind?” She nodded toward the ocean, snaking its way along beside them.
“I’m not really sure.” Cass leaned his head against the driver’s seat, looking up at Andy for help. “There’s only one kind of Air. No matter how you look at it, it’s all just Air. But Water, there’s the three states of matter, right? Ice, steam, and regular water?”
“How very scientific of you, love, but it’s simpler than that. Saltwater and freshwater. Though there aren’t very many folks these days with hard lines in either direction. Every wet one can handle some amount of salinity, but we definitely have preferences.” Dez mussed her bright hair and winked at Cass.
“So you can do ice?” Andy asked, eyes still on the road.
“I can do lots of things with ice, but most involve a blender and booze.” She chuckled and trailed her fingers across the window.
“But can you make it? Or melt it?” Cass asked.
“No, changing temperatures is a Pyro thing,” Andy answered.
“Right you are, love.” Dez smiled and wiggled her fingers. “I can move and manipulate ice and steam, though not very well. Smooth-flowing water is my best source.”
“Do you have names for them? The different kinds of Waters? They didn’t teach us that in school.”
“They wouldn’t at an Earth school, would they?” Dez rasped through a chuckle. “No, the only names we have now are more insult than distinction. Don’t call me brackish, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“As a puffer myself, I understand,” Cass answered. “One kind of Air. Two kinds of Water. Pyro, Helio, and Volts. So why are there so many Earths? They have a name for everything.” Questions like this weren’t safe to ask at home, but Cass was always driven by curiosity.
“Easier to control what you think you own,” Dez replied. “What good would an Ag be without Water? How could a Volcanic or a Quaker move the Earth without the heat of a Pyro? Earth may be trying to rule from on high, but they forget that they’re beneath all of us.”
Andy nodded. Hearing this kind of open dissatisfaction and dissent against the Earth was nourishing, like clean air after years of breathing smog.
Eventually, Dez directed them to pull over and park. There wasn’t a building or town like Andy expected. It was a clearing in the forest. Might have been a picnic spot or a parking lot years ago, but now it was a wide, tamped-down area in a spongy floor.
Dez turned in a circle, arms wide. “What do you think?”
Andy tilted his head. “I think it looks like a nice place to bury a body,” he said cautiously.
“Nah, the ground is too soft. Something would sniff it out and make a mess, leaving body parts all over in a few days. The bottom of the ocean is a better place to dump a body.” Dez’s voice was rational and calm. She stared right at Andy without blinking.
Andy glanced at Cass and began to rethink every single decision he’d ever made that led to this moment.
Then her wide, heart-shaped smile was back, and she laughed. “Hey, if you want to learn to dance on any kind of stage, this is the perfect place to start. It’s soft enough to cushion the impact from jumps, but underneath is nice, firm dirt, so you can get a solid stance if you dig your feet in. Come on, let’s dance.” Dez stretched out her hand, and Andy let her lead him into the clearing.
Cass found a tree at the edge and sat down at the base. “Show her what you can do, Andy. Andronicus the Great. Tumbling sensation. Fast as lightning, strong as thunder.”
“Don’t oversell it, love,” Dez cautioned, but she was still smiling. She crossed her arms. “Come on, little Fire. Show me.”
Andy shook his head. “I should stretch first.”
“Good idea,” Dez chirped. “Join us, breezy.”
Cass shook his head. “Nope. I only wave at my toes. I’ll just watch.”
“He’s sort of hopeless,” Andy said. He reached both arms overhead.
“And you’re not?” Dez questioned.
Andy grinned and set about his normal stretching routine. Dez joined him, going through her own movements. Occasionally she would join him in a pose or ask him to join her. Her hands were soft and strong. She said her raspy voice came from breathing fire, but Andy wasn’t sure how much of her stories were an exaggeration.
Once he was feeling limber, he took a few laps around the space, feeling the ground and the inconsistencies of the dirt. It was nothing like a polished and padded performance floor. He was going to get dirty, possibly fall on his head. He lifted his hands to start. He couldn’t contain the eager grin that split his face.
Just a cartwheel to start, to get a feel for the terrain. He paced and did another. Then a roundoff, somersault, handstand, and back walkover. He tried some barrel turns and wished there was a pommel horse. His mind spun with information.
He planned his moves, but his body was free in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. Muscle memory carried him through moves he hadn’t done in years. He noticed every imperfect landing and misstep, but he could hear Cass clapping and cheering.
Dez was silent, watching with narrowed eyes. She seemed to be dissecting everything. Andy put her out of his head. He knew the criticism would come when he was finished, but for these moments, he was in control. He felt the sweat dripping down his back, the warmth in his muscles, the ache in his chest with each breath. He hadn’t pushed himself like this in what felt like forever.
He wasn’t old enough to feel this out of touch, but a few years of daily drudgery had left a mark. After a few minutes of the thing he used to spend hours doing, he was winded. Running and calisthenics kept his shape but not his conditioning. He gave one last roll, thought about attempting a handspring, then thought better of it. Standing awkwardly, he raised his hands in a half-hearted flourish.
Cass clapped louder, but Dez remained silent. She wasn’t smiling now. Andy felt the excuses piling up in his head. He felt young and small again, waiting for his dad to ridicule him. Dez didn’t look much older than him, but she seemed weathered and wise in a way that he found both terrifying and comforting. He knew what she said would stick with him. He tried to calm his breathing and wait with some composure.
Instead of critiquing or commenting on Andy’s skill or failings, she began to dance. Moving through the steps, even without music, she was fascinating. Not the silly, charming Dez. Not the serious, studying Dez. This was Nadezda, costume or not. Her face was expressive and determined. She concentrated on each movement. Did he look that fierce when he was tumbling?
She spun to a stop and faced Cass and Andy. She’d hardly broken a sweat, and her breathing was calm and measured.
“I think we can work something out,” she said suddenly, her smile back in place. “Come on, Andronicus the Great. I’ve got some ideas.”
Dez held out her hand, and Andy stepped close to her. “You’re incredible,” he said, despite himself.
“I am, but I think you could be incredible too.”
She put Andy through the paces of the dance she’d begun to teach him last night, gently but firmly correcting his posture and positioning. She was serious and focused but still smiled.
It was a very different kind of teaching than he was used to. It had been a very long time since he’d needed guiding hands to get him through new moves, and that had been more pushing and pulling than the light taps and turns Dez used.
She asked him to d
o a handstand and hold it while she walked around. Andy was too aware of the shaking in his arms and the cool air on his belly as his shirt slipped down to cover his face.
“That’s what I thought,” she said quietly. “The crowd will love looking at that, but we need something that won’t block line of sight for you. Something split at the sides. A little peekaboo. The beach mamas will eat that up.” Dez tapped Andy’s legs, and he stood back up, grateful that the rush of blood to his face was easily explained by the handstand.
From beneath his tree, Cass piped up. “I’ve been telling him for years that he should show more skin. Show off all that hard work.”
Andy placed his hands over his belly protectively. He’d gotten too soft recently. Work and stress weren’t helping him. Maybe the only good thing to come from his captivity was the renewed commitment to a fitness routine, but he lacked the definition he’d had in school. He missed the impressive look of each muscle rippling beneath his skin. He didn’t miss not eating salt or carbs, though.
“He can play up the exotic angle with a little bit of kohl and the right outfit. If he’s gonna be a Fire in Water territory, might as well go all the way with it. It’s a little bit playing to stereotypes, but you can’t change perceptions if people aren’t listening. I wear bells, though that hasn’t been a thing in generations. We’re not warding off evil spirits with sound anymore.”
“That’s what crystals are for,” Andy said. He wanted to be a part of this conversation, not just the subject.
“Exactly, but people have an idea of what a Water dancer is, and I try to both play to that and challenge it. I’m not gonna grow my hair long and keep it braided with the colors of my tribe. Short hair and a headdress give the same effect.”
Dez moved to sit next to Cass and waved Andy over. “I don’t play in Earth towns much if I can avoid it. I stay to the fringes. The coast mostly. Not only are the cities too crowded, but the people are also too strict and too stingy. But I wish those folks could see what I do. Might change their minds about what Water is.”