Page 1 of Fire Dancer

Chapter One

PIPPA

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My back ached as I bent over the workbench, rolling my latest creation back and forth. It was shaping up to be a real beauty — a pitcher of clear glass splashed with sunrise colors. There was ruby red, blood orange, and sunflower yellow. Blue like the dazzlingly clear sky in Sedona, and vibrant green like fresh shoots of juniper.

I had my hair done back in a braid, but a few long blond strands had worked their way loose. I puffed upward, getting them out of my eyes. A bead of sweat dripped from my forehead, sizzling faintly as it hit glass heated to the temperature of planet Mercury or thereabouts. Unlike a painter, I didn’t sign my artwork, but a little bit of me marked every one of my creations.

The bell over the hot shop door chimed, and I called out without looking up. “Welcome to Sedona Glass. I’ll be right with you.”

In addition to the new arrival, there was already a family browsing through the shop, but I couldn’t put down my projectat this crucial stage. Luckily, folks were rarely in a rush in Sedona, and most enjoyed watching the creation process the same way they enjoyed taking in the spectacular scenery — slowly and with a hint of awe.

“Hi, Pippa. No rush,” a familiar voice replied.

I glanced up and smiled at one of our best customers, a friendly redhead.

“Thanks, Stacy. I just need a minute,” I said, focused on the finishing touches.

With a pair of pincers, I widened the mouth of the pitcher, then stopped spinning it long enough to notch a spout into the lip.

“Wow. Look at that,” the mother whispered to her daughter.

“Amazing,” the girl breathed. “Like magic.”

I grinned. No magic on this particular piece. The vase I’d made earlier, on the other hand…

Reaching out, I dipped my pinchers into a vat of molten glass, then hooked a thick vein onto the side of the pitcher to make a handle. I tapped the joints a few times, then rolled out the imperfections with a steel cylinder. Finally, I heated the base with a blowtorch and tapped it on my workbench to make it even. Then, voilà! Into the annealer it went to cool down.

I brushed off my hands, pleased with my work. Art wouldn’t save the messy world we lived in, but it sure could make life cheerier.

Wiping my brow, I finally turned to my customers. The original trio seemed happy browsing, so I brought out the box containing Stacy’s latest order.

“Here you go. Another fifty.” I counted the pinkie-sized vials nestled in recyclable packaging. “Two, four, six, eight…”

Stacy raised one to the light, checking it briefly. “Perfect, as always.”

That caught the interest of the first customers, a mother with two teenaged kids. The twelve-ish daughter looked fascinated; the slightly older son, bored.

“What are those for?” the girl asked, intrigued.

“They’re love vials, like this.” Stacy tapped the vial hanging on her own necklace, making the small pegasus pendant beside it jingle.

The girl leaned closer. “What’s in there?”

“Blood. Just a tiny bit,” Stacy hastened to add. “Couples exchange them as a symbol of their love and connection.”

“Cool,” the girl breathed.

“Gross,” her brother muttered.

I was firmly in the boy’s camp when it came to those vials. But they were surprisingly popular, and, well…when money talked, I listened.

Stacy shut the box and pointed to a foot-tall glass pegasus in a tactful change of subject. “Now, isn’t that a beauty? Pippa made that.”

The mom looked relieved, the daughter impressed. “That’s amazing. It’s so lifelike…”

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