A Taste of Ice (44 page)

Driving up to Colfax’s party town had been a bumpy, swerving haul from the main route, but the tire ruts rising up to Chimeran territory were downright treacherous. Rocky and curving, the drive made her teeth rattle in her gums. She lost her way a few times and had to backtrack to find the fading path. Hours dragged on.

Then…
there
. The land flattened out a bit. The trees thinned. A slanted pasture with a few grazing horses lined one side of a dirt road. Three buildings, each no bigger than a small house, sat on the other side. One claimed to be a school, which might have been true if the year was 1890. Another had no signage, but the third was a little convenience store. No homes. No people.

This
was the mighty Chimeran stronghold? Home of the people who threatened to wipe the Ofarians from Earth?

Cat crookedly parked the Jeep in front of the convenience store door. She sat, staring at the door for a moment, then realized she had no moments to spare. She went inside. Dusty, peeling floors. Three lonely rows of goods, most looking out of date. A cooler along the back wall that didn’t look plugged in. An ancient cash register that was clearly just for show.

A girl in her late teens wearing a tank top and jeans stood behind the counter, reading
InStyle
magazine. She had a shade of dusky skin and shiny black hair like Kekona—native Hawaiian mixed with all sorts of other handsome and strong bloodlines.

And her Secondary signature was making Cat’s head spin.
Nelicoda
hadn’t taken away that ability.

“Can I help you?” said the girl all casual, like this place was used to customers and she was the Best Salesgirl Ever.

“Yes.” Cat went right up to the counter. “You can help me find Kekona Kalani.” The Chimeran shopgirl blinked and made a startled, feeble attempt to deny knowledge, but Cat held up a hand. “That’s really not necessary. I know she’s somewhere around here. I know she’s Chimeran. I’d like to speak with her. And your chief.”

The shopgirl slowly spread her hands across the counter, leaned over it, and Cat could see the outlines of pretty much every muscle in her chest and arms. “And you would be?”

“Cat Heddig. Kekona knows me.”

The girl’s eyes briefly shifted to a spot over and above Cat’s shoulder. A camera, no doubt. Sure enough, not three seconds later, as the two women stood staring at each other, a radio buzzed and crackled. The Chimeran slid her hand below the counter and pulled out a clunky hunk of metal. She put it to her ear and listened. Still watching Cat, she returned it to its place below the counter.

“They’ll be here soon. Sit over there.” The Chimeran pointed to a single chair in the far back corner, near the Doritos and Fruit Roll-Ups—things with a scary long shelf life.

Cat nodded and did as she was told. They’d get no physical fight from her; that’s not why she’d come.

The Chimeran moved to the front door and started to take deep, deep breaths, the curve of her waist sucking in, her lungs expanding. Preparing her weapons, so to speak.

Thirty minutes later, a battered four-wheel drive vehicle careened into the dusty lot next to Cat’s rented Jeep. Kekona hopped out of the driver’s seat, wearing clothes, thank God, but not much: an orange tank top and a tiny pair of white shorts that made her legs look impossibly strong and sleekly dark. She was still barefoot, though, and looked perfectly warm even though Cat had huddled further into her zip-up sweatshirt in the cool mountain climate.

An enormous Chimeran male burst out of the passenger side of the vehicle and pushed past Kekona to storm inside. Same dark hair and skin as the others. Shirtless, worn jeans slung low on his hips, his feet also bare, he surged across the store. He stomped down the yellowing-postcard-and-expired-battery aisle, right for Cat. By the time she’d risen to her feet, he was right in front of her. No, he was over her, nearly pushing her backward over the chair.

“What are you doing here?” His incredible baritone voice shook the walls. “Talk.”

“Are you the chief?” She prayed her voice wouldn’t reveal her nerves.

His eyes narrowed, a spurt of flame crossing their darkness. “No.”

Cat peered around the big Chimeran’s shoulder, which was wrapped in a flame tattoo. Subtle.

“Kekona…” she began.

The Chimeran woman stood just behind the man to whom she had a striking resemblance. She coolly regarded Cat with her legs apart, muscular arms across her chest. “How’d you find us?”

Absolutely no sense in beating around the bush. Minutes meant everything in this game. “Have you heard the story about the Ofarian man who found this place twenty-five years ago and came out burned to within an inch of his life?”

Kekona nodded once. “Of course. It was a warning to stay away that has served us well. Looks like we might need another one. Oh, wait—”

“A warning?” Of course. That made sense then, why they
hadn’t just killed him all those years ago. A walking, barely breathing, hideous-looking
Keep Out
sign. “Well,” Cat said, “he’s my father.”

A sound like a blazing, crackling fire emanated from the Chimeran male’s body. “You’re
Ofarian
?”

“Easy, Bane. Let me handle this. I know her.” Kekona reached out, took the big man’s arm and pushed him aside. Bane backed off toward the counter, where Shopgirl stood. When he was out of earshot, Kekona lowered her voice and asked Cat, “Did
he
send you?”

“No,” Cat replied, knowing she meant Griffin. “I offered to come. And I’m here alone. Please. I’d really like to speak with your chief.”

But Kekona had
no
stamped all over her, so Cat raised her voice enough for Bane and Shopgirl to hear. “War doesn’t mean death just on one side. I doubt you really want to risk your people’s lives, when there’s a chance they could be saved, too.”

“You have news?” Bane asked, inching forward.

“It’s why I’ve come to speak to your chief.” When Kekona didn’t move or answer, Cat unzipped her sweatshirt to show she had no weapons, then opened her empty hands. “They’re just words.”

Kekona smiled, but it wasn’t backed by the bravado Cat’d seen in that garage in White Clover Creek. In fact, there was a little bit of fear. “The chief wants to see you. Otherwise I would have had Akela over there send you back to them like Daddy. You’ll ride with us, but I should warn you, you’re a day too late.”

Cat raised an eyebrow. “Then why do you look so worried?”

Kekona opened her mouth to show a flame sparking in the back of her throat, then swiveled around and punched out of the store.

The Chimerans’ vehicle picked and dug its way higher up the
mountain and then slowly pitched back downward. When it stopped abruptly, Kekona told Cat, “You can take off the blindfold.”

Cat ripped the yellow bandanna off her eyes at the same moment Kekona and Bane opened their car doors. The sights and sounds assaulted her, filled her with dread.

Kekona had parked on the edge of a vast, oblong meadow. Around it rose the steep slopes of mountains, covered in all possible shades of green, closing them in. Shutting out the world. On those slopes clung rows and rows of small, tightly set houses and buildings, similar to how White Clover Creek had been built overlooking the main square, only far less affluent. Here no roads ran between the homes. There weren’t even cars, just footpaths. The air, though cool, reeked of sulphur and smoke, as though just over that ridge to the north sat the volcano that constantly spewed lava.

And on the flat of that great meadow, an army prepared for an offensive attack.

A whole field of warriors, five hundred at least, all as strong and lethal-looking as Kekona and Bane, moved and worked and shouted back and forth to one another. Some loaded up run-down buses from another era, piling in huge duffel bags. Families—numbering another five hundred, at least—lined the far end of the meadow. Women and men and children of all ages, watching, waiting for their time to say good-bye. Shoulders back, no tears.

The mobilization struck fear in Cat’s heart and made her
breath lodge in her throat. It wasn’t just a threat anymore. This was real. It was happening.

To the west, a small pocket of male and female Chimeran warriors sparred. Half-naked, barefooted, their bronzed skin slick with sweat, they fought each other under the unrelenting sun. The grunts and roars of practiced battle soared over everything else, and Cat could hear death within the sounds. They fought with their hands—a combination of slugging it out and a nasty form of martial arts—and with fire.

Streams of orange and white and yellow shot from fighters’ lips, and their opponents dodged them gracefully. Others spit balls of flame into their hands and hurled them from powerful arms. It was almost balletic. It was a show, Cat realized, to display their might in front of the entire race. It was all choreographed, a ritual before battle.

Water would put out those fires. Water would always triumph over fire, unless there was simply too much fire to overcome. And if there were other races involved in the offensive. If Cat didn’t succeed here, Griffin would have to surrender in order to prevent an annihilation. But Griffin wasn’t the surrendering type.

“This way. The chief’s waiting for you.” Kekona nodded toward a tilting brick house painted white that hugged the edge of the meadow. It was larger than all the others, but still average by mainland U.S. standards.

Bane gave Cat’s shoulder a sharp shove, as if that’s all the contact with her he could stomach. As Kekona marched through the ranks, Chimerans everywhere stopped and turned and bowed, murmurs of “General,” trailing after her.

The whole of the Chimeran army started to follow Kekona, waves of huge, fire-wielding warriors swarming across the meadow to gather around the house. Even the sky seemed darker now, the clouds trailing, the sulphur odor intensifying, as though their anger had coalesced into ash and smoke and drifted upward. The Chimerans had no “bloodhound” powers like the Ofarians, but they knew Cat was different, that she didn’t belong here. All strangers were a threat.

A shallow stone veranda with crumbling posts circled the white house. Kekona disappeared through the front door, leaving Bane to loom at Cat’s back. She had no choice but to go
inside, and stepped into the colder shadows as the murmur of the gathering Chimerans continued to rise. The house felt larger on the inside, its rooms spotted with white wicker furniture that had seen better days, and rippling white curtains hanging at the small, arched windows.

Bane pointed to a set of narrow steps curving up from the front room. “Upstairs.”

Kekona stomped up ahead of them. The close quarters and the creaking wood under Cat’s feet made her even more tense. Behind her, Bane’s shoulders brushed the walls. At the top, she pushed aside a curtain and stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the meadow. An ocean of dusky-skinned Chimerans spanned below…and they all looked up at her.

No, they looked to Kekona, who gave a mighty shout, then ran right for the balcony edge. Without slowing, without fear, she hopped up onto the railing. No hands, no overcompensation for bad balance, just pure muscle and raw, physical power. With a feral growl, she thrust one fist into the air. A short phrase in a language Cat didn’t recognize burst from Kekona’s mouth and echoed across the valley.

As one, nearly a thousand Chimerans roared their reply.

The entire population—children, too—dropped to a crouch, shouted something fierce and emotional in unison. They stamped one foot, then the other. Shouted something more, their faces twisting in determination. They shook their heads, chanting. Stomped again. They slapped one elbow, a thigh. The chanting rose and rose, and it was beautiful and petrifying and moving. All together, the Chimerans straightened, brought one fist across their chests, then the other, and bowed.

Cat couldn’t disguise her full-body shiver.

Kekona screamed something else in Chimeran, then jumped down from the railing, twisting to land facing Cat and Bane. She walked up to Cat wearing a satisfied smile.

“Keko. Enough.”

The new voice was low and gritty. Cat turned to the corner of the balcony from where it had come. A man, who could have been fifty or sixty or seventy, rose from a rickety wood chair. He, too, wore no shirt. No longer as trim and strong as the younger men on the field below, his power came through in his carriage and the calm confidence of his attention. His hair was
still black as ink, dusted with only a few silver strands at his temple. He went to the balcony and raised a hand. The Chimerans lifted a thousand hands in response. Some blew tiny flames to dance on their fingertips. When the chief lowered his hand, his people sent up a joyous new cheer, and then started to disperse.

The man placed his hands on the balcony railing and did not face Cat. “Why have you come?”

“Chief,” Cat said, bowing her head in the way Griffin had coached her. “I’ve come to explain Kekona’s capture. What she thought happened, did not. The basis for your whole offensive is incorrect.”

Now he turned, and the weight of his look made her feel heavy and small. “And who are you, to come to us like this? An
Ofarian
, begging for mercy for your people?” There it was: the loathing, the disgust.

“No, Chief. I’m not Ofarian.”

Kekona stomped forward. “Yes, you are, you lying—”

“I’m not.” Cat bit out. “I left them. I gave up my water magic. By choice. Griffin is my leader no more than you are.”

Bane and Kekona didn’t move a muscle. Cat held her breath. The chief ambled toward her. “So why are
you
here?”

Cat searched for the words Griffin had given her, but decided nothing would sound as true as her own.

“I’m new to this life, to this”—she waved a hand at the warriors and the unseen volcano and the hidden little town—“world. Two weeks ago I’d never even heard the word
Secondary
. I thought I was an emotionally messed-up orphan, nothing more. I’m here now because this is a stupid misunderstanding and both sides are being hotheaded. Sorry if no one’s ever put it in such blunt terms before, but I’m no politician. I’m no leader. Look, whatever Griffin did all those years ago to upset the Senatus is tearing him apart. He wants to fix his mistake, and he’s tried every way he knows how, but his wheels are spinning in place.”