Drowning in Fire (42 page)

But it wasn’t a pure, honest question. Chief didn’t really want to know what he could do. He just wanted to ask for the sake of asking, so he could look like he had no other choice but to stand behind what he’d already done.

“I don’t care what
you
do. I just want Keko back. So that’s what
I’m
going to do.” Griffin started for the back door, because he said what he’d had to say and standing there staring at the chief wouldn’t get anything done. He had to get back to San Francisco, clear his head,
think
. There was an answer somewhere—

A rumble started outside, low and consistent enough that Griffin assumed it to be approaching thunder, growing louder and more intense with every passing second. Except that the day was cloudless and the sun shone brightly on the valley.

With a sense of foreboding and a thick tug on his signature awareness, he went back into the kitchen because the sound seemed to be coming from the front of the house. The chief had heard it, too, and was leaning on the counter looking out the smudged window over the sink. Griffin joined him.

Not thunder, but movement out on the meadow. A mass of Chimeran bodies shifting and marching in a mob way that was not militaristic or orderly. The warriors surged across the grass toward the chief’s house, strong arms raised, mouths open, little bursts of fire and the resultant plumes of smoke lifting to the sky. They were following someone. A big Chimeran male strode at point, determination and confidence in his step. And it was not Bane.

This man’s right arm ended at the elbow.

Makaha led the Chimeran crowd, whose fervor Griffin couldn’t distinguish as mocking or encouraging. Makaha stalked toward the house, chin down, legs strong, shoulder-length hair flapping behind him. He stopped just beyond the front terrace and stared hard into the kitchen window. The Chimerans fanned out on both sides. Though half of Makaha’s arm was gone, he was no less massive, no less formidable. His eyes were nearly consumed with threatening flame, so much so Griffin only saw gold and orange, no black or white. When Makaha opened his mouth, it was not fire that screamed out from his throat.

“Griffin Aames!” bellowed Makaha. “Leader of the Ofarians! I know you are inside.”

At mention of the Ofarians, a great murmur erupted from the Chimeran crowd. Anger mixed with confusion over discovering one of their opposing race to be in the valley.

Beside Griffin, the chief gasped.

“What’s going on?” Griffin asked, mystified as to how Makaha could have possibly known he was here.

It was Makaha, not the chief, who responded, lifting his severed arm and screaming at the house. “Griffin Aames! I, Makaha, of Chimeran descent and born of fire, challenge you!”

Griffin’s hesitation was not made of fear. The moment between the issue of the challenge and the movement of his feet toward the front door was packed with everything Keko had told him or intimated about the Chimeran way of life—and so much that she had not. Everything had to be earned, she’d said, through physical challenge. Respect, one’s position in society, redemption . . . everything.

Makaha—like Keko—had been banished to the Common House. The Chimeran warrior’s only way out would be to challenge the man who’d disfigured him and caused the shame in the first place. But what were the chances of that man ever actually entering this hidden valley? Practically none. Until now.

As Griffin exited out onto the front terrace, in plain view of the meadow crowded with muscular, fire-wielding Chimerans, he understood. He got why Keko had seized her opportunity to go after the Source when she did. When a Chimeran’s chance came along, they grabbed it with fists or fire, and did not let go until they’d given it their all.

Makaha had lived in shame for three years and this was his sole chance for redemption.

Griffin slowly descended the stone steps to the worn grass. He was beaten down physically and emotionally. Keko was trapped somewhere in a prison beneath his feet, in desperate need of help. And now he had to fight this man? Who had two inches and at least thirty pounds on him?

“How did you know I was here?”

Makaha separated from the pack, speaking low enough for only Griffin to hear. At least there was that. “I saw movement up on the slope. That’s Keko’s spot. I hoped it was her since I’ve been worried, so I went to look. I saw you coming down.”

This man had once been Keko’s friend, as Griffin recalled. If only he could tell Makaha about Keko—why she’d left the valley in the first place, all that she’d done and sacrificed, and the danger she was in now—there was the slight chance the warrior might stand down. But Griffin couldn’t, and Makaha had his Chimeran pride.

Makaha pointed the stump of his arm at Griffin and raised his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any pain in this.” He made a fist with his one hand. “Or this.”

“Soldier to warrior,” Griffin said, “I thought you were attacking me. I am truly sorry.”

The Chimerans murmured.

Makaha grinned, but not in pleasure. “Apologies mean nothing in this valley.”

Griffin longed to shout,
I can’t fight you now. She needs help. We are wasting time.

The faces of the other Chimerans were not mocking, but intensely curious. Perhaps even a bit excited. He did not know if that was because Makaha had challenged an Ofarian who’d inexplicably infiltrated their valley, or if their warrior natures just wanted to see a fight.

“You don’t have to take it.”

Griffin looked up to find Bane had come silently to his side. Makaha said nothing. Because he couldn’t in front of the general, his superior.

“Makaha is lower than you,” Bane said, his eyes on the warrior. “The challenge is yours to accept or deny.”

“What will happen if I don’t?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. Exactly. Makaha would remain where he was. Where he’d been stuck for the past three years.

Griffin knew, without a doubt, that if Keko were here, she would approve of this challenge. She’d likely stand with the crowd and cheer on her friend instead of her lover—because Griffin had nothing to lose and Makaha had everything to gain.

Griffin nodded at Bane to come over to the side. “The Children have taken Keko,” he murmured to the general, and he watched Bane struggle to hide his anger and sadness. “It was her choice, but we don’t have to accept it. There’s no time for this.”

Bane crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching around the questions he couldn’t ask and the heartfelt reaction he couldn’t give. “I can’t interfere with the old ways. The challenge has been made to you. It’s your decision.”

Griffin started to walk back to Makaha, ready to accept. Ready to throw the fight and get it done within record time. Bane, however, snatched Griffin’s arm, fingers biting in. He bent his head, leaned in close to Griffin. His voice was rough as a thundercloud. “If you accept, you accept it all. You will insult him if you do not fight to the best of your ability.” A heavy pause. “You will insult her, too.”

Makaha stood, proud and fierce. As Griffin approached him, the crowd of Chimerans shifted, widening out to make space. Preparing.

“When does it end?” Griffin asked.

Makaha shrugged. “When it ends.”

Griffin drew a breath, shoring up his strength, grateful he hadn’t used magic in well over a day and that he’d drifted off for a time on the back terrace of the chief’s house waiting for Keko to heal her people.

She hadn’t slept at all, he thought numbly. She must be exhausted . . .

He shook thoughts of her from his head, because if he was to give Makaha his all, he had to focus. “No magic,” Griffin said.

Another ripple of murmurs from the Chimerans. In the distance, he could see more folk flowing from their homes up on the slopes, coming down to the meadow to watch.

Makaha glanced meaningfully down at his half arm. “No magic.”

Griffin nodded. “So what—”

The fist that smashed into his face took away words and replaced them with blinding agony. Griffin stumbled backward, knocked off balance. The Chimerans scurried out of his way, enlarging the circle. Letting him trip and fall to the ground.

No cheers for Makaha. Just silence, the intermittent nod of a head as the Chimerans seemed to be assessing what was going on, evaluating.

The only sounds were of Makaha’s breathing and the final fade of Griffin’s pained moan. Then Makaha’s bare feet on the earth as he rushed forward again.

So that’s how this fight was going to be.

Griffin pushed to his feet, righting his vision and shoving aside the humiliation over having fallen to a sucker punch. He faced Makaha’s charge, forgetting about any weakness still lingering, forgetting about the stars that blinked at his periphery, forgetting about anything but giving this challenge his all.

Griffin ducked another left throw and didn’t hesitate to slam a one-two into Makaha’s midsection, knowing that the other guy couldn’t do the same. But Bane had told him not to pull up, and if Keko were here she’d tell him the same thing.

Makaha couldn’t punch with his right, but he could, however, pummel Griffin with his half arm, the strikes coming down in between kicks and jabs.

The fight seemed to go on forever, but then, that’s usually how they felt even when they lasted only a few minutes. Makaha was brutal and relentless, so that’s exactly how Griffin retaliated. Each punch thrown stole as much energy as the advantage it gained. Each blow received sapped more of his strength, until nothing but sheer will kept him upright.

Griffin was fading, all his tumultuous days in Hawaii throwing him into a tornado until he no longer knew which way was up. He could feel the swelling of his face and body, the blood oozing, the muscles aching, the strength seeping out.

The last thing Griffin felt was Makaha’s great left fist driving an uppercut into his chin. And the last thing he saw was the brilliant blue Hawaiian sky before it zoomed down and suddenly, instantly, transformed into night.

 • • • 

Aya did not know how to process all that she’d just witnessed and the barrage of strange, new human emotions that came with it. The Ofarian man, the one in which she saw such great promise, had just attacked that Chimeran warrior, freezing off half his arm.

The whole thing was wretched. Ugly. No one seemed to want to listen to anyone else. There was shouting and physical fighting. She did not understand any of it. She just knew she wanted to scream.

Then the Ofarian had been driven away, dragging many of her hopes behind him in the mud.

Aya plunged deeper into the Utah woods, wrapping her cloak of twigs tighter around her body. The night was black and moonless, as she always insisted upon for a gathering, and she still had a short distance to walk before she was well enough away from the Senatus to return Within. All she had to do was cross that frozen stream and she’d find her secluded spot.

Someone was sitting on a boulder next to the iced-over water.

Aya almost ran into her, her clothing and skin and hair were so dark. The woman spun, coming to her feet remarkably fast in a defensive pose, then settled when she saw it was only Aya.

“You are Kekona?” Aya asked. “The Chimeran general?”

Kekona eyed her, then nodded.

“Why are you out here?”

“Why am I out here?” Kekona wrapped her bare arms around her waist. The Chimerans were so fascinating, being able to withstand such bitter cold without protective layers. “Why am I out here—good question. Because I don’t want to go back yet.”

Aya looked down the hill toward the bonfire, which was a speck of dying orange through the trees. “I am sorry about what happened to your warrior. I saw that you went after Griffin. Did you hurt him?”

Kekona made an odd sound that was difficult to decipher. Aya thought it might have been a laugh, but it also could have been a sob. Emotions had such blurred lines. So much to learn.

“I did,” Kekona said. “And he hurt me, too.”

By the haunted look in Kekona’s eyes, Aya thought she understood what the Chimeran meant. She had observed interaction between human men and women who were interested in mating, and Secondaries were not any different. There was a benefit to being the quiet one, the observant one, the one others seemed to forget was there. Over the past few days, she’d thought she’d witnessed a change in the way Griffin and Kekona had acted toward each other. They tried very hard to hide it under the veil of the Senatus rules, but Aya had noticed little things here and there. Little things that signaled their interest was growing, deepening. The scene around the fire, Griffin’s reaction, and now the pain of Kekona’s aftermath, confirmed it.

Only, to Aya’s eyes, their connection meant far more than simple mating. It reached much deeper into their souls than just the base need to reproduce. It was beautiful and overwhelming, and it spoke to Aya on a level she’d yet to personally experience Aboveground. Perhaps something as powerful as this kind of desire was worth living a life for. Perhaps it was what would make death palatable.

“Wounds will heal,” Aya told her. “Even those you can’t see.”

The Chimeran woman’s shoulders lost some of their tension. She looked at Aya for a long time, then shook her head as if to clear it. “It doesn’t feel like that now. It feels like I’m going to be in pain forever.”

Aya thought of the vast difference between Within and Aboveground, when it came to time. “Forever is just a word. It will have a new definition tomorrow.”

Keko’s brow furrowed as she dropped her gaze to the frozen stream.

Something told Aya that perhaps she should feel awkward in this silence, but strangely, she didn’t. There was something about this scene that made her heart feel warm. Like keeping Kekona’s secret about her feelings for Griffin and offering support was the right thing to do. The human thing to do.

And right then and there, Aya knew that she had made the most important choice of her existence.