by Zoe Chant
Through Rory’s feathers, Seven glimpsed the Thunderbird falling out of the sky. Lightning crackled around it, illuminating the vast shape in sharp flashes. For a horrific second, she was certain it was going to smash into the base like a meteorite.
At the last moment, the Thunderbird spread its wings. The dark pinions spanned the entire width of the car park. They were all knocked off their feet by the downdraft as it fought to control its descent.
“NOW, WYSTAN!” Joe roared.
Wystan’s shield sparkled into life, covering the entire base. It wasn’t a second too soon. Seven heard a howl of pain as something thumped into the shimmering barrier.
A howl of pain that she recognized.
“It’s the pack!” she shouted. Through the distortion of Wystan’s shield, she could just make out their dark, canine forms and burning red eyes. “These are the creatures I fought off before!”
“You might have mentioned that they could fly!” Edith yelled back.
“They didn’t, before!”
The creatures circled Wystan’s barrier, searching for a way in. They ran on thin air as easily as on the ground. It was like being at the center of a nightmarish tornado made of bristling fur and bared teeth.
“I can’t hold this much longer.” Wystan’s voice was tight with strain. His arms shook as he struggled to maintain his shield against the onslaught. “Rory! You have to fly Edith and Seven out of here!”
Seven whirled, fully prepared to smack the griffin shifter with her stunsword if he tried to snatch her up. “I’m not leaving my mate.”
“We can’t fight this many demons!” Wystan’s arms shook as he struggled to maintain his shield. “They could possess any one of us with a single bite. We have to—”
“They don’t have horns,” Edith interrupted. Her sharp eyes darted from place to place, tracking each beast. “Look at them, none of them have horns! They aren’t possessed!”
Edith was right. Seven looked at the hulking, canine shapes, and knew.
After all, she’d seen one close up, only that morning.
“They’re hellhounds,” she breathed.
“Oh, for the love of sweet little fishes.” Joe slapped his forehead, looking simultaneously relieved and aggrieved. “Buck was right. He is going to be insufferable. Well, at least we’ll be alive for him to be smug at…stand back, bros. I got this.”
He shimmered, expanding. Seven had to leap back as he shifted into dragon form. He reared up, horns brushing the top of Wystan’s shield. His tail swept round to protect them all in a barrier of gleaming turquoise scales, each one shining like a star sapphire.
His enormous jaws opened, exposing razor-sharp teeth. He roared.
And, despite everything, Seven felt her mouth twitch in a smile.
Because he’d shouted, in sea dragon language: Come at me, bros!
The yelping snarls of the hellhound pack faltered. One by one, they descended to the ground, massing in a tight, uncertain knot. They milled around too much for Seven to get an exact count, but she didn’t think there could be more than a dozen of them.
An enormous creature pushed to the front of the pack, snapping at the others. It dwarfed them all, a pale iceberg among the sea of the smaller black forms.
It wasn’t a hellhound.
A shock went through her at the sight. Its body was lean and wolf-like, with shaggy white fur…but the creature’s head was a living skull, crowned with a stag’s branching antlers. Eyes like frozen stars burned in the empty sockets.
Behind her, Wystan swore, sharp and profane. It was the first time she’d ever heard the usually mild-mannered unicorn shifter curse.
“A wendigo,” Wystan breathed. She could taste his horror and disbelief, bitter on her tongue. “They have a wendigo. Joe, be careful.”
The wendigo wasn’t all the pack had. A proud, straight-backed figure perched on the white beast’s hulking shoulders. Her long red scarf streamed out behind her like a war-banner.
Seven’s hand tightened on her stunsword. Even through the swirling distortion of Wystan’s shield, she knew that elegant, arrogant profile.
It was Lupa. The woman from the club. The one who’d tried to kidnap Joe.
For a long moment, the woman just stared up at the sea dragon. Although she still wore her red silk scarf, her hair was unbound, no longer held back with a headband. There was some kind of mark or tattoo on her forehead, but Seven couldn’t tell what it was at this distance.
The wendigo bared massive, bear-like teeth. Despite the hot summer sun, its breath steamed in the air as though it was the depths of winter. Frost glittered on its thick fur. Even through Wystan’s shield, Seven could feel the bone-numbing cold of its breath as it roared.
Joe roared right back, spreading his iridescent turquoise ruff like a cobra about to strike. For all the wendigo’s eerie power, he was far larger than it. He raised one foreleg, displaying talons like scythes. Seven knew that the instant Wystan’s shield failed, he’d be on the hellhound pack like a wrecking ball.
Lupa knew that too. Frustration was written all over her face. She tipped her head back, letting out another of those unearthly howls. Her steed sprang into air, massive paws somehow finding purchase on nothing. The entire pack followed, streaming into the air.
Rory shrank back into human form as the pack’s yelping calls faded into the distance. He touched Edith’s cheek, cupping her face. “Are you okay?”
“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Edith replied, though Seven could see her hands shaking on her chainsaw. “Wystan?”
“I’m fine.” Wystan’s shield faded away as he dropped his hands at last. He swayed, then sat down, rather abruptly. “Or rather, I will be fine. Nothing a nice cup of tea won’t cure, anyway. I’m more concerned about our large feathered friend over there.”
The Thunderbird was a vast, panting pile. When she’d seen it in the heart of the storm, its plumage had been lit up in electric-white geometric patterns, but now the markings had faded to a dim glow. It had managed to fold one wing, but the other splayed out like a broken fan. Bright red blood trickled down the storm-grey feathers.
“It’s hurt,” Edith said. “That’s why it came to us. It needs help.”
Rory held her back as she tried to move toward the creature. “It needs professional help. Wystan, is Candice at the ranch?”
“Yes, and I’ve already contacted her telepathically.” Wystan smiled. “She should be here any—”
A bright flash of white light flared at his side. It faded to reveal a stocky woman with short blonde hair and a brisk, no-nonsense expression. Old burn scars marked one side of her face, disappearing under the collar of her checked flannel shirt. She carried a large first aid kit in one hand and a tranquillizer rifle in the other.
She was also flanked by a pair of unicorns.
The smaller one, who was barely more than a foal, pranced to Wystan’s side. She nudged at him with her velvety muzzle, snorting. Seven was no expert in equine body language, but even she could tell that the unicorn was concerned.
“It’s all right, Flash.” Wystan patted the young unicorn’s soft flank. “I’m just tired. Thank you for bringing Candice and your mother here so fast.”
Candice and the other unicorn were already approaching the stricken Thunderbird. The huge creature stirred weakly, turning its head. Its eyes were the electric white of lightning, without pupil or iris. They fixed on Candice and the unicorn in an unreadable, alien stare.
Joe was still in dragon form. A deep, warning growl rumbled in his throat. Seven could tell that he was poised and ready to defend Candice if the Thunderbird so much as twitched.
“It’s all right, buddy.” Candice spoke directly to the Thunderbird, her voice soft and gentle. She edged toward the creature, holding out her hand, her body language loose and unthreatening. “We’re here to help you. Don’t be scared. We just want to help.”
The Thunderbird’s eyelids lowered, hiding that burning, captive st
orm. It opened its injured wing a little wider, holding it away from its body.
“That’s it.” Candice ducked under the enormous pinions without a trace of hesitation. “Let’s see where you’re hurt. Sunrise?”
The unicorn mare joined Candice, though she seemed to be keeping a wary eye on the Thunderbird’s massive talons. Candice ran her hands through the arm-length feathers covering the Thunderbird’s body, parting them to expose savage bite-marks.
Sunrise’s horn lit with a pale golden glow. The unicorn dipped her head, lightly touching the tip of her horn to the nearest wound.
“I know it feels weird.” Candice stroked the Thunderbird as a tremor ran through its massive form. “Just stay still so Sunrise can heal you. There’s a brave guy.”
“How do you know it’s a male?” Edith asked.
“To be honest, I don’t. Short of sticking my arm up its cloaca, there’s no way to tell. And I’m not going to test its forbearance that far.” Candice patted the Thunderbird absently. “Sorry if I’m misgendering you.”
The Thunderbird made a pained, rumbling wheeze that somehow sounded amused. Its head drooped down again, the huge beak resting along the ground.
“Any idea how long it’ll take to get our friend here back on his feet?” Rory asked.
Candice shook her head, still busy examining the Thunderbird’s injuries. “No idea yet. The big guy is banged up pretty badly. I’m sure that Sunrise will be able to heal him, but I don’t think she’ll be able to do it all at once. There are limits to how much she can do before she has to rest and recover her strength.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Rory’s mouth tightened as he gazed at the Thunderbird. “Flash, can you teleport something this big?”
The young unicorn perked up. She straightened, tossing her mane proudly…and then hesitated. She eyed the vast bulk of the Thunderbird. Her ears slowly drooped.
“Don’t worry, Flash.” Wystan stroked the crestfallen unicorn. “It takes courage to admit when you can’t do something. We’ll manage.”
Rory sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to hope that the rest of the crew doesn’t return too soon. I’m going to go call Buck and let him know what’s going on. As much as I can, anyway.”
“Wait.” Edith caught her mate’s sleeve, but her face turned up toward Joe. “This is why you broke our car, isn’t it? Somehow, you knew that the Thunderbird would need our help.”
Ridiculous though it was to try to shield an entire dragon, Seven stepped between Joe and the others. “I gave you all my oath that he had reasons for his actions. You promised to trust him in return. Now you have proof that he is indeed acting honorably. I beg you, do not question him further. He has told you as much as he can.”
Joe dipped his horned head. Seven thought that it was a nod of agreement—but it kept dipping, his vast bulk shimmering and shrinking. In seconds, he was back in human form. His expression was set and serious, all the light-hearted laughter gone.
“No,” he said. “I haven’t.”
Chapter 18
“I’m sorry, I’m still stuck right at the beginning.” Blaise stared at him. “You can seriously see the future?”
Once again, they were sitting round the fire pit in front of the mess hall. He’d waited until Blaise and the others had returned from their errand before finally confessing everything. It had taken…a while.
Now the sun was sliding down the sky, gilding everything with warm golden light. The Thunderbird was a dark, hunched shape at the edge of the car park, head hidden under one massive wing. Sunrise had healed its wounds enough to stabilize it, but it wasn’t going to be in any shape to fly for a while. The unicorn mare was sleeping now as well, her head resting in Candice’s lap, Flash snuggled up against her side.
Joe felt about ready for a nap himself. Explaining his visions had been exhausting…and curiously freeing. Even though he couldn’t bring himself to look any of his friends in the eye, it felt like something had unknotted inside him.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
“What for?” Edith asked.
“For not telling you all earlier.”
*Didn’t have to.* Alone out of all the of the group, Fenrir looked completely unsurprised. He sprawled on his belly, gnawing complacently at a large bone that he’d brought back from his trip into town with Blaise. *Already knew.*
“Yeah, and that’s something we need to talk about, bro.” Joe remembered Fenrir’s enigmatic comment earlier. “When did you find out?”
Fenrir flicked his ears. *Always known.*
“Well, you might have shared that with the rest of us,” Rory said to the hellhound.
*Did, Birdcat.* Fenrir rolled his copper eyes. *Told you he was Seasnake.*
Blaise frowned. “How does your nickname for Joe relate to his talent? Not all sea dragons can do what he can do.”
*Not sea-like-water.* Fenrir sounded faintly exasperated, as though all this should have been obvious. *See-like-eyes. Seesnake. Because he does.*
“And apparently I’m not the only one.” Joe stared at the hellhound. “You gave me that nickname when we first met, before you knew anything about me at all. So how in the name of sweet little fishes did you work out my talent?”
*Two legs.* Fenrir went back to chewing on his bone, turning his muzzle to get a good grip on it with his back teeth. *Always asking silly questions. Can smell, Seesnake. Like any wolf. No trick to it.*
What is he? Joe thought, not for the first time. From the expressions on everyone else’s faces, the rest of the squad was wondering the same thing. Fenrir was no ordinary hellhound, and it wasn’t just his huge size and inability to shift.
Rory shook his head. “Fenrir, sometime we really have to track down where you came from before that wolf pack found you. Don’t suppose you can help with that, Joe? Can you look into the past as well as the future?”
“Sorry, bro. It’s one way only. And it’s not under my control. I just see what fate wants me to see.”
“And, Fenrir aside, none of us had the faintest idea,” Wystan said. “Joe, we’re your oldest friends. Why on earth didn’t you tell us any of this before?”
The puzzled hurt in Wystan’s green eyes made his throat tighten. “Because…because I was scared.”
“That we wouldn’t believe you?” Blaise stretched out one leg to kick him, gently, in the shin. “Idiot.”
“Not that. I was scared—I am scared—that if I told even one person, eventually everyone else would find out too. My parents. The Sea Council. I was scared that they’d all start looking to me for guidance.” His voice cracked. “Leadership.”
“You are the Crown Prince of Atlantis,” Seven said from beside him. He could feel her grey eyes studying his face, even though he didn’t dare look at her. “You will be the Pearl Emperor. It has always been your destiny to be our leader, regardless of your talent.”
He swallowed hard, and told the truth at last. “I don’t want to be the Pearl Emperor.”
Silence spread out from his words.
Then Blaise kicked him again, harder this time. “Well, duh. If it helps, none of the rest of us want you to be either.”
“Gee. That sure makes me feel better.” Joe nudged her back. “Thanks so much for the vote of confidence.”
She made a face at him. “Not because you’d be bad at it, doofus. Because we’d miss you. It wouldn’t be nearly so much fun without you to yell at.”
“Atlantis’s loss is our gain.” Wystan leaned forward, his green eyes softening. “We’ll keep your secret, Joe.”
The others joined in with general murmurs of agreement…all except one. At his side, Seven had gone utterly still. He made himself meet her gaze at last.
Did you mean that? her eyes asked.
And all he could do was reply, silently: Yes.
“Well.” Rory clapped his hands together, recapturing everyone’s attention. “Let’s recap. Joe can see the future, and what he’s seen is that the mother of all demo
ns is going to pop up sometime soon. With the assistance of this Lupa woman, who seems to be working for the demons, even if she isn’t possessed herself.”
Joe dragged himself out of Seven’s eyes and back to the business at hand. “I’m still not sure about that. I mean, not that she’s working for the demons—she definitely is—but I still think Lupa might be possessed.”
“She didn’t have horns,” Edith said. She indicated her forehead. “Just some kind of squiggle here.”
“But her eyes flashed red when I confronted her the first time she tried to kidnap the Prince,” Seven said. “From what I’ve heard of your encounters with possessed creatures last year, that could indicate that a demon resides within her, could it not?”
“Possibly,” Wystan said slowly. “But I would like to propose a different theory. I think it’s more likely Lupa’s a hellhound. She was with hellhounds, after all.”
“They can’t have been hellhounds. They were flying.” Edith asked. She dropped a hand to Fenrir’s thick ruff, winding her fingers through his fur. “You can’t fly, can you?”
Fenrir crunched thoughtfully on his bone. *Don’t know. Never tried.*
“At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past you,” Rory muttered.
“I’m afraid that is likely to be beyond even your talents, Fenrir. At least without help. But there are hellhounds who can fly.” Wystan glanced round the circle. “Some of you have met my aunt Hope and her wife Betty, if you recall?”
“As if anyone could forget their Christmas parties,” Blaise said with a nostalgic sigh. “I know they’re hellhounds, but I didn’t think they could fly either.”
“They can’t, most of the time. But they’re part of the Wild Hunt. It’s a special kind of super-pack, composed of various types of mythical dog shifters, dedicated to hunting down supernatural criminals and bringing them to justice. When the pack is together, they collectively manifest special powers that they don’t otherwise possess as individuals. One of them is the ability to run through the air in pursuit of their prey, even though none of them are shifters that are able to fly normally.”
