The Fire Thief by Debra Bokur

Author:Debra Bokur [Bokur, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Pele stood on a pile of lava rocks jutting out of the sand. She towered above Kali, at least twelve feet tall. Her fierce eyes were slits of sparkling black against her skin.

Kali knelt, dropping her gaze. It would do no good, she knew, to challenge a goddess of this stature. She stayed as still as she could while Pele balanced on her bare feet and swayed gently from side to side, her thick dark hair glinting in the moonlight.

“Speak,” Pele roared, and the waves rose and crashed against her.

Kali remained motionless. She’d forgotten why she was here. The presence of Pele was overwhelming. Her body trembled, and her lips refused to form the words to her forgotten question.

“Have you dared to summon me?” Pele asked, her voice rising above the sea, above the wind.

Kali tried to gather her thoughts. “Why did the shark god kill the boy?” she finally managed to ask, but even to her own ears, her voice sounded faint and muffled.

Pele threw back her head, and flames rose behind her, framing her in the darkness. Kali shook. She realized too late that she had accused Ka-moho-ali’i, the shark god brother of Pele, whom even the volcano goddess knew to fear.

Again, Pele spoke. But the wind drowned her voice, and Kali couldn’t make out the words. Then she was gone, the rocks empty, the sea a tumult of spray, the moon revealed full and without shadow. There was another figure there now: a man with a shark’s head, standing knee-deep in the sea, holding something in both arms. It was the still figure of a boy, who seemed to be sleeping. Kali knew the boy’s face. The shark man turned away from the shore and slowly waded deeper into the water until he was submerged, lost from view, the sleeping boy clutched close against his breast as they disappeared together.

Kali sat bolt upright, suddenly fully awake. The moon was high, just like the one in her dream, and a wide path of light broke the darkness, spilling across the sofa and the gleaming wooden floor. She tried to swing her legs over the edge, but her feet were asleep, and she could see by the moonlight that Hilo was lying across them. She lay back, not up to the task of shifting Hilo from his position. She needed to shake off the night terror brought on by the dream.

She lay there for hours, falling fitfully in and out of sleep, until the pale waking dawn began to lift the night. Through her open window, she could smell the faint scent of a wood fire burning somewhere not too far away, most likely on the beach. Campers, perhaps, who couldn’t afford the astronomical hotel and resort room prices, or teenage lovers, wrapped in one another’s arms.

The scent was plainly that of driftwood, an unmistakable and oddly comforting aroma of old wood melded with salt and bits of seaweed, all blending perfectly to stir a series of familiar memories.

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