Feline the Burn (The Firehouse Feline Book 3)

by L. A. Boruff

  If I have nothing left of her after this, at least I have this.

  And yet, I can’t just run out into the night like I’d do in my cat form. I’m needed here.

  I go about working. Unloading laundry and passing out fresh bedding. I stop by and talk with the people watching a card game unfold. And I close the bedroom door to keep the noise out, for a few people sleeping on the floor of one of my guest rooms, hoping not to wake them from their early slumber.

  It’s strange. Everyone is trying so hard to act like all of this is normal, and yet, our home is tense and guarded. The only information we’ve gotten in weeks is what James told us, but his only information is that everyone thinks I have an army and all the people who oppose the King are scared.

  Sugar is sure she at least is still safe, because she’s only thought of as a human firefighter, thankfully. She checks in with us most nights and every time, the news is dire. Especially every time more people we know are taken.

  Hank and Will's families are fully in hiding now. Fran has returned once since she left our house to give us a report to tell us they were safe. Apparently, my grandmother created a massive hiding place deep in some caverns near her property. The way in and out is tricky and difficult to navigate for anyone who doesn’t know the way. And the ancient crystals that grow from the walls and ceiling make the place a powerful spot to keep people hidden.

  Inside the cave are hundreds of beds and tons of supplies.

  Francine had told me that my grandmother said it was a place made for “the worst-case scenario,” but Fran also suspects my grandmother secretly built it specifically for this moment. For this moment when everything would change in our town.

  It’s a little horrifying to hear about how many people have sought out Fran, and how many she’s quickly taken into hiding. She estimates that there are about fifty families in the caverns.

  But as much as the situation scares me, I’m also relieved to see my grandmother’s partner doing better. After my grandmother’s death, I thought the older woman might never recover, but she’s taken to caring for the people in need so naturally.

  I see why my grandmother loved her so much.

  Days pass in a blur. Almost all I do is work on my magic, pushing myself to my limits. Thank the heavens and earth, I'm picking it up. Every day, my capabilities grow and mature. I start out lifting things into the air, then people, then people on furniture. I learn to shoot balls of magic. Everyone steps in to teach me the things they excel at, and everyone seems amazed that my magic seems flexible enough to do anything and everything.

  And yet, it’s not enough.

  The others have also told me stories about the king. About what he can do with his magic. He can kill. He can torture. He can change the weather and create dark creatures to do his bidding.

  Things that no one in this house can teach me to do. Things I'm not sure I want to be able to do.

  They say he has books. Mountains of books with ancient spells, some thought long forgotten. And that his powers are so vast, that anything and everything is in his reach.

  While I can lift a couch with three people on it. Big whoop.

  I need more time. If I had weeks or months, I would be able to take on the King. Everyone is sure of it. But I don’t have that much time.

  One night, I manage to create a ball of light in the center of the room, just as William, a light witch, showed me how to do. But then, on a whim, I break the light up. I send tiny dots of lights soaring about the room. A dance song I love plays on a radio, and I move the lights to the song. They whirl in the air, and their colors change from gold to every shade of the rainbow.

  When the song ends, I let the light fall on everyone in the room, and they all glow like ancient gods for the briefest moment.

  And then, everyone starts to clap.

  William gives me an awkward half hug. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  I smile, my heart racing. William is a middle-aged boy who owns a lamp store in town, and I’ve learned he only says what he means. “Thank you.”

  There are some groans as the group stands and stretches, and then most of the people head up the stairs, calling their good nights over their shoulders. It’s been a long day of them watching and training me. I’m sure everyone is exhausted.

  Theresa stands with her men, and her gaze slides to me. She gives each man a lingering kiss, and then they start up the stairs. She combs her fingers through her dark hair, then settles on the couch, braiding the strands. I thank more people who compliment my latest show of magic, as they head for showers and snacks in the kitchen. But all along, my gaze slides back to Theresa. I know she was my mom’s best friend, but she feels more like mine. Maybe because she looks nearly the same age as me. Maybe because she acts so young. Or perhaps it’s simply that my mom is gone, and that changes things.

  And yet, there’s been a tension between us since my powers returned to me. Almost like she doesn't like it.

  I think I know why.

  When everyone clears out of the room, her gaze darts to me, and I can feel that it’s finally our moment to talk. So, I stay where I am, and watch as she stands and makes her way toward me, her movements as graceful as always.

  "Darling,” she begins, and I’m surprised that there’s a strain to the word. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I ask, frowning.

  “For not telling the boys I encouraged you to make that deal with the King. I know they were upset that you were in pain, but in the end, you got your powers back. And the King would've been hurting and oppressing these people anyway. Except now you have your powers and can work toward defeating him."

  She's right.

  "I know. It was a mistake to trust him, and we were rash, both of us. But in the end, we're better off with me having my powers," I admit. I'm surprised to find I actually mean the words.

  She nods. “It’s just. They care for you. They don’t care for me. They might not understand what happened the way you do.”

  “I get it,” I say, but something about this conversation makes me uncomfortable.

  I hadn’t purposely hidden anything from my men. I just hadn’t seen a reason to pull my mom’s best friend into it. She was just giving me the best advice she could give at the time.

  She smiles. “But you have no idea how incredible it is to see you using your magic. It’s like I forgot how... magic magic could be.”

  I smile right back. “Thanks. It all feels so unreal to me, but also kind of scary. I’m not just trying to learn my magic; I’m trying to be strong enough to take down a king.”

  Her expression falters. “Just focus on progress, not perfection. None of us can be perfect... something I reminded your mom about constantly.”

  I’m surprised by how happy it makes me to be compared to my mom. “She sounds like such an amazing person.”

  Theresa winks at me. “She was. Just like you.”

  I smile.

  “Well,” she yawns. “I think I’m off to bed.”

  “Good night.”

  But while the others are sleeping, I know I can’t. Because the time I imagine ticking away... it actually is. I can’t afford to waste time. Not with everyone depending on me.

  Closing my eyes, I push my senses out. The wards on the house are holding, but we reinforce them daily. It's part of my exercises to add my magic to the innermost ward, where it can't be sensed by anyone that might get through the first few layers. Mine would be the last line of defense, and if they get that far in, they'll already know I'm here.

  Feeling the slight weaknesses in my mind, I add my magic to the innermost ward. Until it glows a bright yellow. And then, realizing I still have more magic to add, I push a little more towards it. I’m surprised when the glow becomes almost white.

  I’m growing more powerful. I shudder as I open my eyes. That’s a good thing. Right?

  And yet, my mind can’t stop turning as I go right back to practicing my magic.


  One morning, the guys and I sip coffee on my front porch, early. We've been rising before the sun to start work. It's exhausting, but there is nothing else to be done. I must train, so we will go for several hours, then have a short nap. Then repeat, stopping only for meals and short naps to replenish our energy.

  As we sip in silence, waking up, two men appear on the sidewalk down the road. They stop in front of every house. One of the men, a tall man with tattoos covering most of his face, puts hands to his temples and gets a look of concentration. The other man, a short guy with huge arms, places his hand on the tall man’s shoulder. They do this each time they stop in front of a house, then move onto the next one.

  This can’t be good.

  My heart hammers. Our wards should be strong enough to keep us hidden from whatever the hell these two are doing. Right? We’ve all been pushing our magic into the wards. That has to be enough to keep us safe...

  When they reach my home, I have one moment where I don’t even breathe, but then they keep walking, as if our house doesn’t even exist. They stop in front of the firehouse. We stay still and silent as they continue down the street, stopping in front of the houses past the firehouse.

  When they disappear around the far corner, I release in a deep, frightened breath. "What was that?"

  "They're probing the houses, looking for witches. If they find one and don't recognize their magical signature, they'll take them for questioning.

  "Magical signature?"

  James nods. “Every person has a magical signature, like a fingerprint. Each signature is unique to each witch. But there are few witches powerful enough to detect and remember so many different signatures. Those guys, those are some powerful assholes.”

  "Most likely they use this as an excuse to go after anyone they've ever wanted to hurt, too," Hank says darkly. "That's the kind of people they are."

  "We have to do something," I whisper. "This can't continue. Who knows how many he's killed?"

  Or how many he still will.

  Will tugs on my arm, and I go to him without a question. He pulls me into his lap and wraps me in his strength. There’s an unspoken reassurance to his touch. A promise that he’ll always keep me safe.

  I look up, and our eyes lock.

  He leans forward and brushes the lightest kiss against my mouth. “We’re going to stop them.”

  “But what if I’m not enough?”

  Hank’s hand brushes my thigh, and I look into his perfect brown eyes. “You’re enough.”

  “Besides,” James adds, “you have us.”

  Some of the tension leaves my belly as Will runs those magical fingers of his over my back, heating his fingertips just enough to draw a moan from my lips. Yes, I do have them. I don’t have to do this alone.

  I just have to make sure at the end of this, we still have each other.

  Chapter Five

  Will

  Being in a small house filled with people is driving me insane. The last thing I want to do is let my temper flare with a bunch of people who are already going through a lot of shit. People who are willing to help us and put themselves in a dangerous situation.

  I just wish knowing all that would make it easier to deal with them.

  We all agreed not to go far from the house alone, so every time I feel like I can’t take it anymore, I step outside and go to the edge of the woods. Beneath the safety of the trees, I let my fire magic go, like exhaling a frustrated breath.

  In the shadows beneath the trees, flames dance from my fingertips, and I study them as my muscles ease, if only a little. Fire mages need to use their magic when it starts to build up, but more so when our emotions run high. The consequences of not doing so are almost too much to bear. And damn it if my emotions aren’t spiked for too many reasons right now.

  When I see Hank emerge from the house a few minutes after making my break for the woods, I suck in a deep breath. So much for alone time. But it’s hard to be too annoyed when I know he’s struggling. His brown hair is messier than ever, and his usually clean-cut face has a three-day old beard growing. His nerdy clothes are wrinkled, which is definitely not like him, and I can see the way his shoulders sag, if only by a little.

  That’s the thing that’s rough about being childhood friends. We know each other too well. With the others we might be able to pretend that we don’t mind that just a few weeks ago the most exciting thing in our lives was putting out a fire, but we can both see right through each other’s facades.

  His intense eyes sweep the backyard, then land squarely on me. Without hesitation, he heads straight for me. “You going nuts?” he asks when he reaches me.

  “You know it,” I say, rotating the flames that swirl around my hand.

  He looks from the fire to my face and raises a brow.

  Yeah, yeah. I do this when I’m feeling like my space is being invaded. Shut up, man.

  Growing up, my mom was always out of the house. She’d bounce between the bar and different guys’ beds. I was five when I turned a bucket upside down to use as a step, so that I could reach the washer and dryer and make sure I had clean clothes. I was six when I learned how to use the oven to boil water and fry up food.

  That was also around the same age that I started pulling weeds and cutting grass for the neighbors, so I could take the money to the store and actually buy things to eat. Yeah, it was rough, but it also became part of who I am. A person who likes his space. Who likes to be alone with his thoughts?

  Even in this situation.

  Hank leans back against the tree beside me. “You know, the only way this is going to stop is if we get Callie on the throne. Until then, we’re stuck hiding out here, which means everyone who helps Callie is stuck here too.”

  I shrug. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  He grins. “But you’ve been so pleasant to be around.”

  Okay, so I’ve been miserable, but there have been a few awesome moments. “I almost laughed my ass off when the kings’ men walked right past our house.”

  If they hadn’t frightened Callie, I would have.

  “That was amazing!” Hank says, his smile widening.

  I fucking loved the idea that we were literally next door to the firehouse. That the king and his minions should’ve found us on day one. But the wards James and Hank used help people look past the house. It makes it so they have to really be looking for it to find it.

  “So, we need to come with a better plan than this,” he continues.

  My grin fades away. Yeah, we do. “I never wanted to get mixed up in this witch bullshit.”

  “Well, it seems like Callie and this ‘witch bullshit’ is a package deal now.”

  He doesn’t need to say more. We both know that as awful as witch politics are, it’s worth it to be with Callie. Any price is worth it to be with her. I’m already hooked, through and through.

  But it changes everything, for all of us. We’ve been like a group of college guys, enjoying life as firefighters, hanging out together, and now we suddenly have to get the woman we care for on a witch throne.

  It’s fucking perfect.

  “So, we just need to find a way to take out the most powerful group of witches in our coven and make her the leader of the rest of them?”

  “Basically,” he says.

  “That can’t be too hard.”

  It’s Hank’s turn to smile. “You know, you’re handling this better than I thought.”

  “I’m not as weak as you think I am,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m so pathetic that he managed to hurt my feelings.

  “I’m not saying you’re weak, you idiot. I just thought after you-know-who, you’d never get close to another woman.”

  I stiffen. This is the last thing I want to talk about. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

  “Come on, I bet you’re struggling like hell not to let yourself go nuts protecting Callie.”

  I am. If I’m being honest with myself, knowing Callie is in danger had mor
e to do with the feeling of agitation I couldn’t seem to let go of. I’d never forget that the woman I had loved died because of the witches. It seems like some kind of cruel punishment to fall for another woman who is throwing herself right in the line of fire with the witches again.

  Except that Callie hadn’t chosen this. It chose her.

  “I’m doing okay,” I lie.

  He laughs, not believing me for a second. “I think it’s easier for me, since I’ve never really felt that attached to any woman I dated.”

  “What about Cathy?”

  He scowls. “I was eight, and she broke my damn heart when she decided to start eating lunch with Billy.”

  I grin. “And Rebecca?”

  “What? She wanted a damn jock. Girls in high school are fickle. It didn’t bother me one bit.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “And you didn’t cry over either of them?”

  “I told you, I stubbed my damn toe, I wasn’t crying over a girl.”

  His gaze meets mine, and then we’re both laughing. This is what we needed, to remember everything about life wasn’t doom and gloom. That falling for a woman, even a complicated one, is better than getting our hearts broken.

  Hank’s gaze moves to the house, and his laughter dies along with my own. “But Callie is different.”

  “She is,” I agree, my mind crafting a picture of the beautiful woman.

  Suddenly, the backdoor opens, and James’s gaze goes to us.

  “It looks like you’re wanted,” I say, waving my hand and extinguishing my flame.

  “How do you know he doesn’t want you?”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Because you’re the helpful one.”

  James walks across the lawn. “Hank, I got to talk to you about something.”

  I wink at Hank, and he glares. “See ya later, buddy.”

  Hurrying away from them before I can get roped into doing laundry, dishes, or making beds, I escape into the house. Inside, people are everywhere, but I don’t see Callie, which instantly puts me on edge.

  Frowning, I climb the stairs, then tap lightly at her bedroom door.