Fire in the Ocean Read online

  “He’s down in the dumps because he’s mortal,” she explained when she came up for air. “And I think he’s a bit jealous.”

  “Being mortal isn’t so bad,” Clancy said, kissing her again. “Not when it involves kissing you.” Then he stepped back a pace, holding Sierra’s shoulders and looking into her eyes. “I thought you said Chaco was just your friend. Why would he be jealous?”

  “Chaco is just my friend, but you have to understand. He always got to kiss girls when he was immortal, plus he had all the other benefits. Now he’s mortal, and he’s not kissing anybody.” Sierra didn’t really mean “kissing,” but she thought it was sufficient to communicate her meaning.

  “What about Kaylee?”

  “What about her? She’s with Guy now. As fickle as Kaylee might be, she doesn’t cheat. She breaks up and moves on.”

  Silence followed this observation, as Clancy demonstrated how uninterested he was in the affairs of others. Finally, Sierra pulled away, regarding him with more sobriety than her three mai tais should have permitted. He held her close, and she could smell him, clean sweat and something spicy. She loved the feel of his arms holding her close. His urgency was firing hers. Her face was getting hot and her mouth dry. She swallowed hard.

  “Let’s get back to Jack’s place,” she suggested.

  They walked back to Jack’s house through the heavy, flower-laden night air, arms twined around each other’s waist. The huge moths—Sierra knew by now they were called black witch moths—floated by overhead, silent as the stars.

  Jack had gone to bed, but the front porch light was on and the door unlocked. They left their sandals at the door, according to Hawai‘ian tradition, and padded quietly to the bedroom they shared. They fell onto one of the small beds, trying not to make any noise that would wake their host. Something about this heroic restraint seemed to fuel their urgency rather than dampen it, and Sierra felt as if she were melting into him, body and soul. Time suspended, all thought erased from her consciousness as they moved together. When Sierra reached her climax, she screamed but made no sound, the pressure of holding back that scream driving her into wave after wave of pure pleasure.

  The next morning Mama Labadie called. “Girl, I have some news for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Yep. I can’t make head nor tail of it. Maybe you can.”

  “What?” Sierra almost yelled.

  “All Madame Èzilee say to me was ‘Heaven’s child.’ That’s it. Frustrating, huh?”

  “Actually,” Sierra said slowly, “I think I understand.”

  Chapter 17

  Sierra thanked Mama Labadie, shoved her phone into her pocket, and told Clancy she was going to see Auntie. She found Chaco outside on the porch of Auntie’s little house, sipping a cup of coffee. He looked broody, as he often did these days. Sierra told him that Mama Labadie had called.

  “I need to talk to Auntie,” she said.

  “Oh.” Chaco stared at his coffee as though he expected it to say something.

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  “Why? You don’t need to talk to me,” he said, still staring down the coffee.

  “Don’t be a jerk. Of course I need to talk to you.”

  “What about Clancy?”

  “Clancy is a great guy, but he isn’t comfortable discussing these things. He’s more of a problem-solver-action-guy. Come or not. Suit yourself.”

  Sierra turned and walked away. She heard Chaco shift in his lawn chair, but he didn’t follow. Fine. If he’s going to mope around feeling sorry for himself, I’ll just carry on without him. But Sierra missed her bright, energetic, and somewhat lecherous companion. Chaco as a mortal was getting to be something of a drag, and she wished he’d flown home as she suggested. Maybe he’d have regained his powers and with them, his sunny outlook.

  Dismissing Chaco and his problems, she went back inside and found Auntie Keikilani reading in the living room. “Auntie, would I be correct in saying that your name means ‘child of heaven’ in Hawai‘ian?”

  Keikilani nodded.

  Sierra told her about the loa’s message. “They never give very specific messages,” she said. “They never say anything like ‘Your accountant is ripping you off.’ It’s always ‘The snake is eating the fruit’ or something, and you have to figure it out. But this time they said “heaven’s child,’ which wouldn’t mean anything to me except that I now understand Hawai‘ian.”

  Sierra thought for a moment. “I bet if they knew I spoke Hawai‘ian, they would’ve said something much more obscure.”

  Auntie turned off the low music and turned her kind eyes on Sierra. “I think I know why the loa wanted you to talk to me. I’ve been thinking since our last conversation, and I’m convinced we need to be working together on this. You have a lot of mana. I know about the gods and spirits of Hawai‘i, and I have mana of my own.” Sierra nodded.

  “But I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to suggest.” Auntie Keikilani fixed her with a sharp gaze. “I think you should go back in the ocean and confront Kanaloa and Kauhuhu again. Maybe we can appeal to them as protectors of Moloka‘i to do something about WestWind.”

  “I. Am. Terrified. To go back into the water. Absolutely freaked out, spooked, petrified, aghast.”

  Sierra was pale beneath her tanned skin. Her body was rigid, and she worked her slender fingers nervously. It was warm, but not hot enough to warrant the sweat trickling down her cheeks. Her eyes looked haunted.

  “I have some…mana,” she continued. “But Kanaloa is a great power. You can sense it. I’ve got nothing compared with him. And Kauhuhu…! He’s beyond terrifying.”

  Keikilani reached out and patted Sierra’s shoulder. “When you first told the story of being taken by Kanaloa, you said he gave you a gift. Part of that gift was speaking Hawai‘ian. But you also said you felt your powers flare, as though he had charged you with additional mana. We should take a look, examine your mana. If you will let me.”

  Sierra consented to this, as it didn’t involve immersing herself in the ocean. Keikilani drew all the blinds and curtains in her living room, reducing the available light to a soft twilight. With the curtains and blinds closed, the room rapidly became even warmer. Sierra lay on the couch, trying to relax her stressed mind and body as the other woman sat beside her, chanting. Sierra’s mind gradually surrendered to the sound, and her body followed, every muscle softening as she relaxed. Waves of peace washed over her as the chanting continued, and she was nearly asleep when the chanting gently came to a halt. Then there was a restful silence.

  This sleepy calm ended abruptly as Sierra began to see visions behind her closed eyelids. She saw ribbons of light—every color of the rainbow and some she was sure were not even in the rainbow. The ribbons pulsed and twisted, glowing as though super-heated. She reached out mentally and began to play with the ribbons, making them move just so or twine in a different direction. She even braided some of them and let them untwine again. When she twisted them together, they seemed to grow stronger and brighter, dimming a bit as they unraveled. She manipulated the tendrils of light, playing with them, experimenting to see what happened if she did this…or that. She noticed after a while that the light in the room had become brighter, and she opened her eyes blearily, squinting against the light. Auntie Keikilani had opened the curtains and blinds, letting in the midday sun.

  “That answers that question,” Auntie said with satisfaction.

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve been on that couch for four hours.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. And your mana is strong. Can’t you feel that?”

  “Well, no. I mean, not until now. I’ve never played with the powers before. I usually only remember them when there’s an emergency.”

  “Oh, no. You need to keep using them. Grow your powers, exercise them. Then you’ll be strong when you need that mana.”

  Sierra sat up, a bit disoriented. Four hours had disappea
red while she wasn’t paying attention. Auntie Keikilani sat down next to her.

  “I think you have more than sufficient mana to face Kanaloa or Kauhuhu. I don’t think they intend to harm you. Quite the opposite. They have both taken an interest in you,” Keikilani said.

  “But you’re Moloka‘ian. And a kahuna. Wouldn’t they be more likely to listen to you?”

  Auntie Keikilani sat silently for a bit, looking thoughtful. “As a Moloka‘ian, maybe it’s my responsibility. But the fact is that Kanaloa has never appeared to me, despite all my years swimming and fishing in the ocean. It seems he plucked you off that boat merely out of curiosity, but now you have encountered him twice. And Kauhuhu knows you are under his protection.”

  “Really? I am?” Sierra said, looking more cheerful.

  “I think so, because neither of them has harmed you. However, as you pointed out, I am Moloka‘ian. My home is threatened, not yours. I think I should be the one to ask him.”

  “How can I help?” asked Sierra.

  “Come with me. I have a little putt-putt boat we can take out on the reef. I’ll go in the water and call to Kanaloa. You stay in the boat and help me out if I need it.”

  “Okay,” said Sierra slowly. “I think I can handle that.”

  “I can say the appropriate prayers and make an offering,” Auntie said. “Does that make you feel any better?”

  It did not.

  “Are you sure it’s safe, Auntie?”

  Auntie Keikilani looked directly at Sierra when she answered. “Safe? No. I don’t think it’s safe at all. We’re dealing with powerful beings, beings we don’t really understand. The real question is: do you think the risk is worth it? You don’t have any stakes in this game. Moloka‘i is not your home. If the WestWind project goes forward, it won’t change your life at all.”

  Auntie might have been reading Sierra’s mind, expressing Sierra’s half-guilty thoughts out loud. “Think about it for a while, Sierra. I am willing to call the shark-god. I’d like your help, but as I said, you have no personal stake here. Think it over.”

  Sierra went to her bedroom, mind churning furiously every step of the way. It was mid-afternoon now, and hot, although there was always a cooling sea breeze. She didn’t want to see Chaco. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She needed to get out of Kaunakakai, but she didn’t want to ask Clancy to drive her. She realized with a start that she now had her wallet, a driver’s license, and credit cards. She could rent her own car if she could get to the little airport.

  A short taxi ride later, Sierra pulled out of the Kaunakakai airport in a compact white rental car and headed west. She had no destination in mind, determined to wander wherever the road took her. She saw a sign to Palaau State Park and turned off to the north. She drove through scattered residential areas as the road rose gradually higher. Eventually, the houses dropped behind, the vegetation changed with the altitude, and she found herself driving through a forest. By the time she reached the parking lot at the end of the road, tall trees blotted out the sky. Their foot-long, soft needles made them look, Sierra thought, like towering green haystacks.

  She got out of the car and stretched. Though the day had been quite hot in Kaunakakai, it was cool under the trees—almost too cool for her shorts and T-shirt. There were two signs, one pointing to the Kalaupapa Overlook, and the other sign reading, “To the Phallic Rock.” Sierra opted for the overlook, following a clearly marked path. She arrived at a low stone wall and saw she was standing at the very top of the towering pali. Below—far, far below—was the Kalaupapa Peninsula, which she knew could be reached only by boat or plane—or by a precipitous trail down the pali by mule.

  No one else was around. The wind blew in from the sea, making the trees’ long needles whisper and hiss. It was the only sound. She stood and stared for a long time. She might as well have been in an airplane, she was so high above the peninsula and the tiny settlement below. She could see miniscule buildings down there, but they were so far away that she couldn’t distinguish whether they were houses, stores, or something else. The wind seemed to blow right through her, sending her fears spiraling up and away, at least for the moment, into the blue vastness of the sky and the sea.

  Sierra made the short hike to the Phallic Rock before she left, and decided that it was very phallic indeed. A basin had been carved in the upper surface of the stone, and a lei rested in the hollow. She contemplated the delicate flowers for a moment, then stretched out a ribbon of mana and “felt” the stone. She immediately encountered a Presence. It wasn’t a spirit or a ghost or an Avatar. It was something else, an awareness. Something knew she was there. Silently she asked for guidance in this latest challenge, the directive to confront the terrifying Kanaloa and Kauhuhu yet again. The Presence stirred in response to her question, but she received no answer. Disappointed, she returned to her car and descended again into the flat, red lands of western Moloka‘i.

  Somehow, she missed the turn to Kaunakakai. There weren’t many roads on Moloka‘i, so she was annoyed with herself for getting lost. But she seemed to be heading for a beach, and beaches were some of her favorite places, so she continued. She drove past several condominium developments, and then saw a sign for Papohaku Beach Park. She turned in and parked, noticing several other cars in the lot. She guessed that Papohaku was probably a good swimming and/or surfing beach.

  Sierra followed the path to the beach, winding through a fairy-forest of delicate acacia trees. A steady stream of people was arriving and leaving. Was an event happening in the park? She emerged from the acacia forest onto a long, white sand beach. The waves were fierce, racing toward the land in multiple tiers and pounding angrily on the sand as they arrived. Not a good swimming beach after all, Sierra decided, noting the many jagged black rocks in the water. Everyone seemed to be heading downwind, and there was a gathering about a half a mile away of perhaps thirty people. She began to make her way in toward the crowd, curious about what was drawing people to this spot.

  The stench was her first indication. She had almost reached the crowd when a sudden shift of the breeze filled her nostrils with a deathly reek. It was as though someone had distilled the essence of all rotting things, a putrescence that clutched at her throat. Sierra nearly gagged and stopped short. People were in motion, walking, taking pictures, talking, and pointing. A gap in the throng revealed the focus of the crowd’s attention: a dead whale.

  She could see that it wasn’t a large whale. It was a baby, but still bigger than a minivan. It was collapsed like a pile of old, black rubber tires. She could see the long grooves of its throat. In California, it would have attracted hundreds of scavenging sea gulls. Hawai‘i had no seagulls, but black clouds of flies were doing their puny best to contribute to the dissolution of the corpse.

  Sierra went no closer but stared at the pathetic cadaver. She saw the baby whale alive and swimming in the sea, next to its mother, singing with her. That was where this baby should be now, not stinking up a beach and being stared at and prodded. She thought about the mother whale, swimming alone, surely with a gaping wound in her heart where her baby had been.

  Sierra turned and sprinted back down the beach toward her car.

  Chapter 18

  “I’m nearly finished with this part,” muttered Kaylee, pins held between her lips. “Could someone hand me the scissors?”

  Mama Labadie handed her a pair of shears. Kaylee used them and held up her handiwork. “I think it will work, size-wise,” she said critically.

  “Looks perfect to me,” Rose said. “But I think I need to do my part before we use this.” She gestured at a filthy shoebox lying on the floor.

  “That’s right,” Mama Labadie said. “First you do your bit, then we can finish it. You ready?” she asked Rose. Rose felt for the medicine bag at her throat, its weight familiar and comforting. As her hand clasped the leather bag, she said a silent prayer for the success of their endeavor.

  “Yep, I’m ready,” said Rose.

  “How
long will it take, d’you think?”

  Rose examined the object lying in her lap. “I won’t get too fancy. But it will take me the tomorrow and the next day. Maybe longer.”

  The women worked long into the night.

  • • •

  Roberts decided to spend a few more days on Moloka‘i. It never hurt for the top guy to be seen on site for a while. It let people know that management had eyes on the project. It also gave him opportunities to find ways of encouraging good work and discouraging sloppy practices.

  He’d spent a couple of days deliberately relaxing, as though he were just one more tourist. Nobody bothered him on Moloka‘i and he’d swum, snorkeled, and fished. He’d spent time alone at the condo, reading, cooking, and watching sunsets from the lanai.

  He’d also taken his on-site managers out to dinner at Paddler’s. It had been a curiously stilted evening. The men and women who worked for him consumed cautious amounts of alcohol and kept the conversation on business. There was a certain camaraderie between the managers, but only respectful deference toward Roberts himself, which left him feeling like a specimen in a jar sitting at the head of the table.

  Well, wasn’t that what he wanted? Roberts firmly believed that familiarity bred contempt, and had sidestepped any attempts at intimacy or even friendship from those who worked for him.

  But still, it all felt a bit…empty.

  • • •

  “No!” yelled Clancy, slamming his hands down on Keikilani’s kitchen table, making the dishes—and Keikilani—jump. “You can’t be serious, Sierra. It would just be fucking nuts to take that kind of risk!”

  Clancy almost never swore. Hearing “fuck” come out of his mouth was like hearing your old granny say it, and Sierra was slightly shocked. She also realized just how upset he was. Auntie murmured something polite and left the room.

  “I have to try, Clancy. No one seems to be able to stop WestWind. And now I think it really must be stopped.”