Battling the Beasts

The kuewa that had almost reached the sidewalk were changing. Limbs were popping out of them, and they were becoming more human shaped. Some of the sharks closest to the crowd were walking upright on legs, with just shark heads attached to big, strong-looking human bodies. Unfortunately for the crowd, the shark head was the part with all the teeth.

“What? But how?” Lei was reeling. She didn’t understand. And she didn’t have time to try to comprehend the scene before her because Kaipo was sprinting toward Lei with a grocery bag full of pendants.

“Here, I got all the ones from the skies, and freed them from the glue.” Kaipo panted.

Lei just waved her arm wildly at the shifting occurring before them. Kaipo pressed a hand to his mouth.

“It’s like being closer to people is making them stronger!” Lei exclaimed. “Maybe that’s why they’re drawn to crowds—it helps them grow and become more powerful. Including turning human. Can they do that without graduating? Don’t they need a teacher, like you or like…like…Poliʻahu?”

“Apparently not,” Kaipo replied, finding his voice. “They seem to be making it happen all on their own. I mean, I’ve never heard of this…well…I’ve heard of creatures that can change between animal and human, obviously—”

“For flap’s sake,” Ilikea interrupted, stuffing more necklaces into Lei’s backpack. “We don’t have time to analyze. Let’s just get in there and get the necklaces!”

“Yeah!” Kaukahi yelled and pumped her arm in the air.

They took off across the sand, yanking off the kuewa’s necklaces as they raced to stop them from reaching the parade. It was too late. A shark-guy lunged toward a kid holding a shave ice, dangerously close to the marching band. Thankfully, a tuba player standing near the child saw the shark coming and acted quickly, whipping the tuba off his shoulder and slamming the bell down over the shark’s head.

And then the world erupted into chaos.

Everyone jumped to their feet. (Except the kūpuna. Some of them stayed seated and cackled at the shenanigans, some chanted, some beat the spirits with their fans, slippers, canes, and bags, but none of them gave up their good seats, even when family members encouraged them to leave.) Parents scooped up smaller kids into their arms and ran. One mom punched a shark in the nose. An aunty with knitting needles in one hand tossed a pair of scissors to Lei, who immediately sprinted behind the creatures to cut off their necklaces.

A terrifyingly large octopus reached into a double stroller, tentacles snaking around the twin babies’ ankles. Lei snuck behind to cut its necklace, but a creepy-looking starfish that had an extra human arm grabbed at her scissors. Lei pivoted, moving the scissors to her other hand and swinging ferociously. The blade connected with one of its starfish arms. She gagged at the way the sharp edge sliced into the squishy flesh with a squelching noise. The starfish quickly retreated, and Lei turned back to look at the octopus. It was backtracking toward the ocean, babies hanging upside down in its tentacles as their parents fought against a manō-man to get to them.

A cry back by the statue pulled away Lei’s attention. The MC announcer guy had his microphone cord wrapped around the neck of a bird with a red forehead—one of the ʻalae ʻula!—that was holding a squirming keiki. The tough little girl fought back, stomping on the bird’s foot as her dad wrestled him down.

“Take off the pendant!” Lei called out.

The guy heard her and snapped the cord off quickly. Things were happening too fast. Humans were mixing with changing spirits, and as they became more and more powerful, it was becoming harder and harder to recognize who were kuewa and who were victims.

“Lei, the heʻe!” Kaipo yelled at her, jolting her back to herself. She turned to look at the octopus who’d almost reached the water with the squalling twins. Lei took a flying leap at the creature, tackling its oblong head to the sand. The baby-holding tentacles stayed raised, while two others slithered back to grab at Lei. She squirmed out of reach, undoing the necklace from behind and letting it fall to the sand. She darted to the right and left, grabbing the babies as the tentacles lost their will to menace, falling slowly to the ground and shrinking in size. Lei stepped back, kids in her arms, as the heʻe ran on two tentacles to the ocean.

When the manō-man that had held the parents saw Lei save the children, he let go of the adults and moved on to find other kids to target. Heart pounding, Lei returned the babies to the sobbing grown-ups, and looked for her friends.

“Ili!” Kaukahi screamed. Her arms were pulled behind her back by a turtle-headed woman who was leading her over to a shark.

“On it!” Ili shouted. She grabbed one of the necklaces off a brittle star, accidentally breaking one of its black, spiny arms in the process. “Sorry! I need this.” She got behind the turtle woman and wrapped the necklace around her leathery throat, cutting off her air supply. “I know we’re cousins and all, but if you mess with my family, I will wreck you.” She squeezed tighter and held the woman against her body until Kaukahi was released.

Kaukahi spun and pulled the necklace up over the turtle’s head. The woman immediately went slack. Ilikea let her go and she dropped down on all fours and began crawling to the ocean, changing back into a turtle as she went.

Five large manō-men and two large manō-women in a group circled a pod of crying kids. Lei gritted her jaw and moved to cut their necklaces, but it was impossible. Every time she tried to get close enough to one, the shark behind would snap at her, pushing her back.

“Lei, I’m here!” Kaipo called out as he transformed into an owl.

Wild-eyed, Lei held her breath as Kaipo swooped down and tried to avoid the snapping teeth and pushy hands. Suddenly a shark jumped, feeding off the frenzy of screams and panic around them, and managed to get the tip of Kaipo’s wing in his mouth. Lei acted fast, grabbing the newly formed human arm of a colorful fish next to her. She swung the fish into the shark’s stomach with all her strength. It knocked the breath out of him, and he spit out Kaipo’s wing with a feathery “pwuh.” The seven shark-people rounded to face her with menacing grins on their massive mouths. At least they’re distracted, Lei thought, watching grown-ups dart in and grab the kids as soon as the shark’s backs were turned.

Kaipo joined in human form, cradling his arm, while Kaukahi and Ilikea ran up behind Lei. Makani kept up a steady wind pushing the sharks back. This was it. Lei’s focus sharpened. She dug the ball of her foot into the sand and flexed her fingers, looking for an opening to yank off a necklace.

“Kaukahi, I know this isn’t your priority today, but I gotta say I’m glad you’re with me on this one.”

“We just gotta get the necklaces, save the keiki, then we can go to the ball,” Kaukahi said, mimicking Lei’s earlier attitude with a grin. “Piece of cake.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” Kaipo muttered, “but I think we’ll need to get them separated.”

“Do my eyes deceive me, or will we mostly be taking these tuna-breathed baddies two at a time?” Ilikea said.

Yeah, these were not good odds. But what else could they do?

“You have any seamstress magic in your bag?” Lei asked Kaukahi.

Kaukahi sagged with sad eyes and frizzy hair, her top hat lost somewhere in the panic. Lei thought she looked strange without her goggles. “All out of answers.”

“Okay,” Lei said. “Let’s just keep moving. Don’t slow down.”

A rock-headed human snatched a boy from his dad, who punched back but immediately ended up cradling his fist.

“Think about soft spots and where to hit them,” Lei continued. “And try to avoid the teeth. All we can do is get as many as we can.”

A tinkling voice drifted over on the wind. “Seriously pathetic. Is that really all you can do?”

All four heads swiveled around.

“Pele?” Lei gasped.

The goddess approached in the form of ʻUla, wearing a red dress that blended nicely with their red-team shirts. She noticed and smirked. “Go team fire.”

“I mean, obviously the best element,” Lei said, figuring placating the temperamental girl was always a good place to start. With a quick glance at the shark-people—who’d frozen in place as soon as Lei mentioned Pele’s name—Lei continued. “I told my friend Kaukahi here how awesome you are at hōlua. She wants to try racing you sometime, too.”

“I do?” Kaukahi whispered.

Lei elbowed her while maintaining a totally chill “I only speak the truth” smile.

“I mean, I do,” Kaukahi confirmed. “I’ve, uh, never done it before, but it sounds super fun. When we go back home to Hawaiʻi Island next week, we should give it a go.”

Lei sucked in a breath through her nose. She hadn’t thought Kaukahi would actually go so far as naming a date to sled down a rocky hillside with the goddess. Lei was hoping they could just get through today and not think about it again for another year or so.

But it did the trick. Pele’s face glowed, and warm sparks of gold lit up her eyes. “I’d love that!”

“Great! It’s a date.”

Pele smirked. “We can discuss logistics later. I can see you have your hands full. When were you planning to ask for help?”

Lei’s eyes darted to her friends flanking her sides. “I mean, I did.” She motioned to Kaipo. Considering how alone she felt when she went up against Pele on the mountainside last time, with only Makani at her back, it felt like she had a superhero squad with her. Where was Pele going with this?

Pele rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “You still have so much to learn. I meant asking your ancestors for help? You know, I ka wā ma mua, i ka wā ma hope.”

It was so similar to the advice the Menehune gave, Lei did a double take. “I did look to the past to try figure out the future. That’s how we figured out how to create the fishpond and catch the fliers in the trees.”

“Okay, fine, you did do pretty good there,” Pele reluctantly agreed, “but you could still ask for more help.”

That brought Lei up short. “You’re absolutely right. But, um, we kind of thought this was our kuleana and we had to handle it ourselves?” It came out as a question because a look around at the overturned rubbish cans, cars abandoned in the street, and people running all around with half-animal, half-human creatures chasing after them illustrated only too well just how not handled it actually was. And Pele’s laugh told Lei that she absolutely knew it.

“Well, lucky for you no one messes with my ʻohana and gets away with it. These fools are the same group that almost hurt my moʻopuna in the tree house.” She waved an arm at the general mess behind them. “Let’s send these pendants back where they belong.”

The goddess got into a crouch like a warrior about to do battle. Ilikea snorted at the semi-cheesiness and then let out a pained groan. Lei bit back a smile at picturing whatever Kaukahi must have just done to her ʻaumakua to keep her in line.

Pele headed toward the sharks, who were now trying to separate some kids from their parents, but the mom was beating them off with a beach umbrella while the dad sprayed them in the eyes with sunscreen like it was bear spray.

“You slowpokes coming, or do I have to take care of everything?”

“Hey, all my slowness still managed to beat you,” Lei blurted. She heard Kaukahi suck in her breath. Crap. Too far.

But Pele grinned. “Ha! There’s your spirit! I was hoping I hadn’t imagined it. Let’s do this.”

So with Kaukahi, Ilikea, and Kaipo on her right, Makani to her front, and the fire goddess on her left, Lei headed straight to the sharks’ glistening teeth.