Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  MINE!

  Human reason dropped away, leaving only pure, simple purpose. He was hers, hers alone, and he was getting away.

  Her stunsword was still in her hand. Without thought, Seven lunged.

  Even with predatory instincts roaring through her blood, some conflicting urge made her pull the blow. The blunt point barely kissed the back of his neck, delivering the mildest possible charge.

  He still went down like a cut tree.

  The sound of the Prince collapsing to the ground hit her like a bucket of icy water. Sanity returned, far too late.

  Her stunsword clattered from her hand. She stared down at the limp, motionless form of the Prince…and then up into a face that reflected her own appalled horror.

  “Seventh Novice,” breathed Lord Azure. “What have you done?”

  Chapter 6

  The forest was on fire.

  Flames slunk through the undergrowth like hungry wolves, gobbling up old, dried pine needles and fallen branches. They licked at the tree trunks, trying to climb into the branches. Bark popped and cracked. Flurries of sparks whirled through the air, bright in the smoky darkness.

  “I never thought I’d say this.” Blaise flung a cut branch away from the fire line, and wiped the back of her glove across her sweaty, sooty brow. “But I really miss Joe.”

  But he was there, he was watching…

  “Me too.” Wystan never paused in hacking at the ground with his Pulaski. He turned the tool over, using the hoe-like blade to scrape down to bare mineral soil. “I didn’t fully appreciate last season just how convenient it is to have one’s own portable, dragon-shaped bulldozer.”

  If he’d been there, he would have shifted and knocked a line straight through the forest, uprooting whole trees with his claws. The squad would already have contained the fire. For a second he could see it, in a confusing doubling of vision. His head spun like a kaleidoscope. He was there/not there, and at the same time he was somewhere else entirely…

  “Less talk,” Callum grunted from behind Wystan. “More digging.”

  “Come on, team!” Rory called from the front of the line, over the roar of his chainsaw. Off to one side, Edith was tackling a dead tree with her own chainsaw, bringing it safely down out of reach of the approaching fire. “Buck’s counting on us to contain this on our own. If we don’t finish this line in time, everyone in Bluebrook could lose their homes. Step it up!”

  He automatically reached for his own Pulaski, slung at the side of his pack…but it wasn’t there. He didn’t have his gear. He didn’t have hands. His body was somewhere else.

  Somewhen else.

  Blaise kicked a smoldering log out of the way, rolling it into the approaching fire. “I don’t like this. The wildfire shouldn’t even be heading toward the town. The conditions are all wrong.”

  Yes, it was wrong, all wrong. He was supposed to be there. He’d knocked the future onto the wrong course. Whenever this was going to happen, he wasn’t going to be there.

  Fenrir was ranging alongside the rest of the squad, backfiring the undergrowth with short, sharp blasts of his fiery breath. The hellhound paused, his ears swiveling. At the same moment, Callum stiffened. He too stared into the smoke.

  Rory lowered his chainsaw, letting the blade idle. “Please don’t tell me the Thunderbird is coming to make our day even more interesting.”

  “Not that.” Callum’s forehead furrowed. The pegasus shifter closed his eyes, concentrating on his gift for sensing living beings. “For a second, I thought I sensed...no. They’re gone.”

  Rory’s shoulders tensed. “Do you think it could have been demons? We did see them appear out of the ground last year, in the unicorn forest.”

  Callum lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Can’t tell.”

  “I don’t think it can be demonic activity,” Wystan said, brow creasing in thought. “The Thunderbird isn’t here. We’ve never seen demons without it appearing as well. Callum may not be able to sense those creatures consistently, but it seems the Thunderbird can, and over a great distance too.”

  “So either our zap-happy frenemy is sleeping on the job, or this isn’t demons.” Blaise blew out her breath. “Wonderful. So now we’ve got ghosts.”

  He was the ghost. A ghost from the past. None of this had happened yet.

  Fenrir let out a noise that started as a growl and ended in a quizzical whine. The thick, black fur on his neck and spine stood up, but his head cocked to one side.

  *Can smell something,* the hellhound said telepathically. His tail moved in a slight, uncertain wag. *Is good…maybe?*

  “Help! Someone, please, help me!”

  The entire squad jerked, swiveling as one in the direction of the shout. Fenrir sprang forward, his huge, doglike body stretching into a run.

  “Fenrir!” Rory shouted as the hellhound vanished into the smoke. “Damn it. Callum?”

  “I can sense one life form near the edge of the fire.” Callum’s frown deepened. “Though for a second, it felt like more.”

  “Well, we have to check it out. Callum, take point.” Rory passed his chainsaw to Blaise. He rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles for a fast shift into griffin form. “Wystan, yellow alert.”

  “Already on it.” The unicorn shifter had his hands outstretched, ready to use his power to create an impenetrable shield around the group.

  Dread filled his mouth like ashes. He knew, knew, that he was seeing this because it wasn’t supposed to happen…

  Callum led the squad toward the edge of the fire. Heat haze rippled the air. Some trees were already smoldering, caught by advance sparks blown from the main fire.

  Fenrir’s deep bark echoed through the smoke. The hellhound stood stiff-legged near a sprawled form. A woman lay on the ground, propped up on her elbows, eyes locked on Fenrir’s. Both the woman and the hellhound stared at each other, motionless.

  “Fenrir,” Rory called, his voice flexing with the sharp, irresistible command of his alpha power. “Come here.”

  The hellhound backed away with clear reluctance. The woman stirred as though a spell had been broken. She sat up, wincing. One of her legs was trapped under a fallen tree.

  “Oh, thank God,” she exclaimed. Her face was in shadow, hidden under a baseball cap pulled low over her brow. “I can’t get free, please help me!”

  Rory gestured to the others to stay back. He went to the woman, crouching at her side.

  No, Rory, don’t-!

  “Stay still,” Rory said to the woman. “I’ll get you out of here.”

  He put his hands against the tree trunk. Though he strained with his full shifter strength, it didn’t budge. The woman cried out in pain.

  “Rory,” Blaise said urgently. She was staring into the smoke, shoulders tense. “Hurry. We haven’t got much time.”

  Rory swore, sweat standing out on his brow. “Wystan, Callum, I need help.”

  NO! He couldn’t shout, couldn’t do anything to stop them, to warn them—

  The other two shifters joined him. As they bent to the fallen trunk, the woman lifted her face. Her eyes glittered, lips pulling back in a triumphant snarl.

  He knew her. She’d looked just the same, before she’d plunged the syringe into his neck.

  “NOW!” the woman shouted.

  And then—

  “No!” He thrashed, trying to fight free of the weight pinning him down. He had to save them, had to save his friends— “NO!”

  “You are safe, you are safe,” someone was saying, over and over. A deep, gentle voice, speaking a language that no human throat could replicate. “All will be well. You are safe, my son.”

  The low, soothing notes resonated in the secret heart of his soul. He relaxed, panicked shudders fading away. Hearing that voice, for a moment he was a child again, held in strong arms, knowing to the core of his being that he was loved.

  “Dad?” he croaked, his throat raw with screaming.

  “Good. You’re awake at last.” His father re
leased Joe’s wrists, sitting back. He raised his voice, apparently addressing the rest of the room. “Just a nightmare. You may all stand down.”

  Joe levered himself to his elbows, and discovered that he was fenced in by a ring of armor-clad backs. Half a dozen knights surrounded him, swords drawn and pointed outward. One of them appeared to be menacing a coffee maker.

  He frowned around at them all, wondering if he was still trapped in some bizarre vision of the future. “What’s going on?”

  “When one yells ‘look out, it’s a trap!’ in a room full of professional warriors, they tend to react,” his father replied, rather dryly. “Lord Azure, that device is supposed to be making that noise. I assure you, it is not about to lunge for our throats. I repeat, everyone stand down.”

  The knights sheathed their blades with varying degrees of reluctance. They moved back a little, settling into parade rest. Their ornate armor looked wildly out of place in the blandly neutral hotel room.

  Something nagged at him about the scene. There was something wrong, something missing…

  Seven.

  All the warriors around him wore ornate metal shoulder-guards and jeweled bracers, signifying that they were full knights. None of them were shorter, paler, dressed in the humble leather armor of a squire.

  Good, he told himself, even as his heart sank. It was good that she wasn’t there. She was still repulsed by him. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. That was good.

  Somewhere deep in his soul, his dragon roared. He had a nagging sense that it was trying to tell him something, but its voice was too distant to understand, muffled by the lingering effects of the drug. His head felt as though someone had been using it as a piñata.

  He rubbed his eyes, trying to get a grip on reality. “This isn’t Bluebrook? Fire season hasn’t started?”

  His father gave him a somewhat perplexed look. “You have only been unconscious for half a day, my son. We are still in Las Vegas.”

  “I have to get to Montana.” Joe swung his legs over the side of the bed, regardless of the way the room spun around his head. “I have to get back to the crew. Right now.”

  His father’s concerned look shifted into a much more familiar expression of tightly restrained aggravation. “If you were intending all along to honor your vow and return to your fire crew, you might have saved a great many people considerable time and effort by telling us that.”

  Once, there had been a future where his father had finally been proud of him. He’d seen it. If he’d stayed with the squad instead of running away to Vegas, it would have happened.

  He thrust away a pang of regret for what-could-have-been. “I wasn’t going to. But now I am. I have to.”

  His father put out a hand, stopping him from attempting to rise. “My son, you cannot. You were attacked. You must return to Atlantis. It is no longer safe for you on land.”

  “It was never safe! You were the one who insisted that I take a job that literally involves running into burning forests.”

  “Some danger is necessary. But there is a difference between a wildfire and an assailant who seems to be targeting you personally. Much as you attempt to ignore it, you are the Crown Prince of Atlantis. You are the Heir to the Pearl Throne. The ocean cannot afford to lose you.”

  His father paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I cannot afford to lose you.”

  No, no, no! Even as he wanted to scream, he couldn’t help appreciating the irony of the situation. Given how much he’d protested being sent there in the first place, how in the sea’s name could he now convince his father that he wanted to return to the hotshot crew?

  Well, Dad, I get these visions of the future…

  He’d never told anyone about his talent. He wasn’t about to start now.

  “Whatever that woman drugged me with, it wasn’t enough to completely put me under,” he said, skirting around the edges of a lie. “I learned her plans. She’s not just after me. She’s going to go after my friends as well.”

  His father did not look entirely convinced. “You are certain you were not just delirious?”

  “Completely certain.” It was impossible to mistake a true vision for anything else. He was still chilled from the cold grip of fate. “And then I slipped from her grasp. Since she couldn’t nab me, I’m certain she’s going to concentrate on kidnapping one of the others instead. Blaise in particular, I think.” A realization hit him across the back of the head like a two-by-four. “Oh, for the love of little fishes. I am an idiot.”

  “Self-knowledge is the first step to self-improvement,” his father murmured.

  Joe decided to ignore that. “Her headband. And her—” he very nearly said baseball cap, but caught himself just in time. She hadn’t worn that yet. “And her hair. Remember those demon-things I told you about, the one that the squad ran into last season? When their possess someone, there’s a tell-tale sign. Horns. They seem to start growing pretty quickly after the demon moves in. That woman was being very careful to cover up her temples.”

  His father’s blue eyes sharpened. “You believe that she was possessed.”

  “It all fits.” He hesitated, remembering what Wystan had said in his vision. “Except that the Thunderbird’s not here. Then again, we’re a long way from Montana. Maybe this is outside its jurisdiction.”

  “If so, then we are fortunate. From what I have heard, that creature’s way of dealing with demons is to set fire to a wide area. In a tightly packed human city, a single demon on the loose seems the lesser evil.” His father glanced at one of the surrounding knights, all of whom were politely pretending to be deaf. “Lord Azure, is there any news on tracking my son’s assailant?”

  The addressed knight made a respectful bow. “As far as we can determine, the honorless worm and her canine minions are no longer in the area. We cannot, alas, offer any insights into their current whereabouts.”

  “They’re going to Montana to hunt my crew.” Frustration made his hands curl into fists. He didn’t have time for all this. “Dad, I can’t explain how, but I know they are. My friends are in danger, and I’m the only one who can protect them. I’m going to Montana.”

  “I am afraid that is not possible, Crown Prince.” From his patronizing tones, Joe half-expected Lord Azure to pat him on the head and offer him a lollypop in consolation. “While your concern for your comrades is admirable, it is completely unthinkable to allow you to-”

  Joe dropped into sea dragon language for the first time. “I am the Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne. I was not making a request.”

  The snarling, imperious notes hung in the air. As one, every sea dragon knight averted their eyes in instinctive submission. Lord Azure’s hand jerked in a quickly stifled salute.

  “It wasn’t a request,” Joe repeated, in English this time. He turned his glare on his father. “The only way I’m going anywhere else is if you drag me there in chains.”

  His father held his eyes for a long, long moment. His own were as unfathomable as the ocean.

  Then his shoulders dropped in great, heartfelt sigh. The gold honor-tokens braided into his dreadlocks chimed together softly as he shook his head.

  “Were she here, your mother would take great delight at this point in reminding me of the human saying, be careful what you wish for.” His father sighed again. “It was my greatest desire that you should show some understanding of honor. And now that you have, I find myself sincerely wishing that you had not.”

  Joe spent a second trying to work out whether or not that was a back-handed compliment, then gave up. “So you aren’t going to try to stop me?”

  “You choose a most inopportune moment to discover the virtue of constancy…but I cannot chastise you for it. Nor will I attempt to stand in your way.” The barest hint of a smile tugged at the edge of his father’s stern mouth. “I know only too well how strongly stubbornness runs in the family.”

  “Imperial Champion!” Lord Azure sounded aghast. “You cannot�
�that is, the Sea Council will not approve of this.”

  “I have parted the sea with song and fought the Master Shark tooth to claw in single combat. I have no fear of the Sea Council.” His father paused, a slight wince crossing his face. He glanced at Joe. “You, however, can explain this to your mother.”

  “Mom will understand,” Joe said, hoping it was true. “She’s always told me to follow my heart.”

  His father’s expression softened a little, in the way it always did when he was thinking of his mate. “I, of all people, cannot argue with that.” His tone turned stern once more. “I can, however, insist on one condition.”

  His heart, which had been rising, turned over. Because he’d heard those words before…or would have done, in another future.

  On one condition.

  That you agree to take a bodyguard.

  Only in that vision, it had been early spring, not nearly the start of fire season. And they’d been at Thunder Mountain, celebrating Wystan’s wedding. In that future, he’d insisted on staying with the crew all along. In that future, like now, his father had insisted that he take a bodyguard for protection. And then Seven had stepped forward, and their eyes had met for the first time…

  He’d run away from the squad. He’d missed the wedding. He’d thought that he’d avoided that future.

  Yet Seven had still caught up with him. And now here was his father, saying—

  “That you agree to take a bodyguard,” his father said.

  Fate’s cold, cruel laughter echoed in his ears. He opened his mouth to say no, to stop what inevitably came next—

  “Lord Azure,” his father continued, turning to the richly dressed knight. “It seems this duty must fall to you.”

  …What?

  Lord Azure had the expression of a fish that had just discovered the hook hidden inside a juicy worm. “I am…unworthy of this honor, Imperial Champion.”

  “Yet I must insist.” There was a glint in the Imperial Champion’s eye that suggested he was taking some secret satisfaction in Lord Azure’s obvious discomposure. “Given earlier events, you seem greatly concerned with honorable action. Now is your chance to lead by example.”