Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  Then again, Seven could hardly criticize her comrades’ acting abilities. Her own nerves were stretched tight. Her shark lurked just below her skin, poised to leap out.

  And a lot of good that would do. Seven pushed her useless animal back down. The last thing she needed was for its mindless instincts to take control and ruin everything.

  Patience, she told her restless beast. Soon.

  Buck stalked a few steps away from the squad. Despite his gear, he moved as silently as a panther, heavy boots making no sound on the leaf litter. He shaded his eyes, staring in the direction of the approaching wildfire. Thick smoke curled through the tree trunks, and Seven could hear a hungry crackle, but at the moment no flames were visible.

  Buck grunted, sounding both pleased and perplexed. “Well, there’s one bit of good news. We’ve done enough to cut off the advance. Unless weather conditions change drastically and the fire blows up, Bluebrook is safe.”

  “That’s…convenient,” Wystan said, his forehead furrowing.

  And strangely considerate, Seven thought, but didn’t dare say. From the looks on everyone else’s faces, she wasn’t the only one wondering why their enemy had given them enough time to contain the fire. The hellhounds had obviously started the blaze in order to lure the squad out from the safety of the base. It seemed odd for demon-worshipping arsonists to care whether or not their trap actually destroyed innocent lives.

  Probably just wanted to let us exhaust ourselves, Seven decided. She certainly wasn’t as fresh as she had been when they’d first arrived. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake out the cramps in her arms. Despite the smoke, she deepened her breathing, the better to be ready for combat—

  And realized that the bitterness she could taste was more than just smoke.

  “Ambush!” she yelled, just as Callum’s head snapped up.

  Something whined past her ears like a hornet. Wystan, who’d started to fling up his shield, abruptly clapped a hand to the side of his neck. Seven felt something strike her own left arm as the unicorn shifter collapsed. A feathered tranquillizer dart stuck out from her bicep. The needle-sharp point had penetrated her firefighter jacket, but been thwarted by the armor she wore underneath.

  He was right, Joe was right! Seven cursed the crack shot that had managed to hit Wystan in the undefended gap between his collar and helmet. Assuming the evil-looking green liquid filling the dart was the same drug that the hellhound alpha had used on Joe at the club, Wystan would be out of action for the fight. She could only hope that the rest of the team had been luckier.

  Play dead. Play dead!

  Her every instinct screamed to turn and fight, but Seven forced herself to go limp. All around, the rest of the squad were falling to the ground as well. It was impossible to tell whether they were shamming like her, or had genuinely been struck with the tranquillizer darts like Wystan.

  Through half-closed eyes, she glimpsed Joe rearing up, bared claws spreading in fury—but sea dragons, adapted to the ocean depths, were not as well armored as their land-dwelling brethren. A dart sank deep into the soft, vulnerable gills behind the hinge of his jaw. Joe’s outline blurred and shrank, his furious roar dwindling into a human cry of pain.

  NO, Seven shouted at her inner animal as her shark surged forward. She wrestled it back, every muscle in her body clenched and shaking with the effort of staying still. Not yet! NOT YET!

  “Got them all,” said an unfamiliar male voice, sounding distinctly satisfied. “Told you so, Lupa. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Gerulf,” answered a woman. Seven tensed despite herself. She knew that voice. “Wulfric, Lycus, secure the Prince. The rest of you, make sure of the others.”

  Scents made a three-dimensional map in her mind. She could taste the hellhound pack closing in—some on two legs, some on four. Their churning emotions lay on her tongue like a complex cocktail. Most of them were reluctant, sweating with fear, but with an even greater underlying terror forcing them onward.

  A few of the pack were more dangerous. They reeked of rot; fetid, gloating pleasure at the prospect of hurting someone helpless to fight back. Seven fixed them in her mind, and waited.

  Not yet…not yet…

  She felt rather than saw a shadow fall over her. A sulphurous breath whispered across her cheek.

  NOW!

  She exploded upward, flicking out her stunsword as she swung. The glowing blade cracked across the hellhound’s muzzle. She didn’t pause to watch it fall—she was already spinning, striking, felling the man bending over Wystan with a knife in his hand.

  “Now!” she shouted. “NOW!”

  A gunshot rang through the yelping barks and shouts of the hellhound pack. Buck was on his feet now too, snapping off precise, professional shots. Seven hoped that he was aiming to incapacitate rather than kill, as they’d agreed. After what she’d sensed of the pack’s emotions, she was certain that Wystan was right—the majority of Lupa’s pack were innocents, forced into obedience by her alpha power. She was glad her own weapon was non-lethal.

  Callum guarded the Superintendent’s flank, swinging a Pulaski like a sword. A dart dangled from one of his sleeves, the chamber still full of sickly green fluid. The doubled layers of firefighter jackets had worked to protect him, at least.

  Rory seemed to be okay too. He was snarling as loudly as his chainsaw, his eyes blazing golden, guarding Wystan’s motionless form. Edith was down on her knees behind him. For a second, Seven thought she was cowering in terror—and then Edith popped up, firing a flare gun over Rory’s shoulder directly into a group of hellhounds charging at Buck. The beasts scattered, howling in pain and confusion, pawing at blinded eyes. Edith coolly dropped behind Rory again to reload.

  Seven didn’t have any more time to worry about the rest of the squad. A pair of hellhounds lunged, trying to pin her between them. She pirouetted, bending backward almost to the ground, sliding under their flaming jaws. Her stunsword sent one yelping away, and a shot from Buck made the other fade into invisibility with a howl of pain.

  “Hold them off!” Lupa shouted. Seven glimpsed the hellhound alpha running away, still in human form. “Get the Prince!”

  Two burly men had Joe by the arms, and were trying to sling his limp form over the back of the wendigo, who was crouching with its belly to the ground. Seven tried to charge toward them, but was met by a wall of teeth.

  “Callum! Rory!” she shouted.

  The two shifters surged forward, trying to fight their way toward Joe—but a blast of hellfire forced them both back. Most of the pack were on four feet now, armed with fire as well as teeth and claws. Apart from Lupa and the men wrestling Joe, only two others were still in human form. They were both sighting down dartguns, back-pedaling from the melee. If either Rory or Callum shifted, the men would be able to dart them.

  Rory had realized the problem too. “Seven, Buck!” he yelled. “Take them out!”

  No matter how fast she feinted and struck, she couldn’t break through. The hellhounds kept flickering out of existence just long enough to evade her sword, then reappearing to lunge at her.

  Buck snapped off another shot that sent a hellhound howling away on three legs—then staggered, his next bullet going wild. A feathered dart stuck out from the center of his chest. Across the clearing, a man lowered his dartgun, looking expectant…and then, as Buck failed to collapse, perplexed.

  “Not a shifter, motherlover,” the Chief growled, and shot the dartgun out of the man’s hand. The man screamed and blurred into hellhound form, disappearing into thin air.

  That left only one attacker still armed with a dartgun. The man dove into cover behind a tree, taking cover from Buck’s weapon.

  “The instant one of you fuckers shifts, I’ll have you!” the man yelled from his hiding-place. “Your gear won’t protect you if you shift!”

  Her shark surged forward. Seven tasted the man’s terror, sharp and sweet, and the sweat-stink of bravado—

  “He’
s lying!” She knew it was true, with a shark’s clear, cold certainty. “He’s out of darts!”

  With a triumphant roar that turned into the shriek of a stooping hawk, Rory shifted into griffin form. Callum was only a heartbeat behind, his pegasus’s flame-red wings knocking his two attackers flying.

  The hellhounds facing Seven abruptly found themselves occupied with far more pressing concerns. Seven lunged between their bristling black bodies as they turned. It was a gamble—she couldn’t charge and defend her back at the same time—but no burning jaws nipped at her heels. The pack had clearly decided that she was less of a threat than the rest of the squad.

  She ran flat-out, smoke burning in her chest. The two men who’d been manhandling Joe surged to intercept her, shifting as they pounced. Past their flaming jaws, she caught a glimpse of Lupa leaping onto the back of the wendigo. Joe’s limp form lay face-down across the huge beast’s shoulders, arms and legs dangling.

  “Go! Go!” Lupa shouted.

  Her steed leaped into the air.

  Time froze in ice-hard clarity. The pair of hellhounds leaping for her throat hung in the air. If she’d been a dragon, she could have shifted and knocked them aside like flies—but she wasn’t.

  In the slow beat of combat time, she knew—knew—that she was going to be too late.

  With the strength of desperation, Seven leaped. She used one hellhound as a springboard, her boots kicking it out of the air as her stunsword connected with the other one’s head. Her other hand reached out—

  And closed on Joe’s ankle.

  Lupa screamed with fury, snatching at Joe, but Seven had gravity on her side now. She dropped her stunsword, grabbing onto Joe with both hands, pulling him off the wendigo’s back.

  Seven twisted as they fell. Her back hit the ground, but her jacket and armor absorbed the worst of the impact. She curled to break Joe’s fall, his weight driving all the breath out of her.

  Her chest was on fire. She had to get up, had to protect her mate, had to fight—but her body wouldn’t obey her. She could only clutch at Joe as Lupa wheeled the wendigo around in a tight turn.

  Lupa’s eyes stared down at her, blazing with red fire. The mark on her forehead burned too. She was close enough to see it clearly now—a geometric, stylized snake with gaping jaws and curving horns, glowing with an eerie, hellish light.

  Hooves shook the ground. Callum’s gleaming copper wings spread protectively over her, shielding her from the hellhound alpha. The pegasus reared, front hooves ready to strike.

  Lupa’s bitter, frustrated howl echoed from the trees. Through Callum’s gleaming feathers, Seven glimpsed the rest of the hellhound pack streaming into the sky, following their alpha. Their dark bodies blurred. In seconds, there was nothing left but swirling smoke.

  Rory landed next to her, paws shifting into boots. He crouched to support her, helping her to sit up. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, still too winded for speech. She gestured urgently at the sky.

  Callum shook his head, shifting as he did so. “Too late. They’re gone.”

  Rory’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “It’s all right, Seven. You drove them back. It’s over. We won.”

  She clutched at Joe’s limp body, feeling the slow, even rise and fall of his chest. Despair filled her own.

  No, she thought numbly. I failed.

  Chapter 23

  He found her down by the lake, huddled on a log. The distant lights of the hotshot base gleamed from higher up the mountain, barely visible through the thick pines.

  “Hey.” Joe sat down next to Seven. “You disappeared from the party. Well, if you can call a group of exhausted, filthy firefighters trying not to fall asleep over non-alcoholic beverages a party. Then again, I’m pretty sure I saw Callum nearly crack a smile. That alone makes it a wild shindig.”

  Seven didn’t turn her head. “You should not be this far out from Wystan’s wards.”

  “I’m safe enough.” He leaned into her a little, shoulder to shoulder. “Got my bodyguard with me, haven’t I?”

  Seven continued to stare blankly out at the gentle, moonlit lake. Her legs were drawn up; arms around her shins, chin resting on her knees. She still had her armor on. Dark smudges of soot marred the usually immaculate leather plates.

  “Have you seen anything?” she asked, abruptly.

  Not you too. Joe was getting really tired of being asked that question. Still, he couldn’t blame everyone for being anxious.

  “Nope.” He gazed into the dark, rippling waters. The surface of the lake glittered at him like a broken mirror, for once devoid of the future. “I’ve been checking, but it seems fate hasn’t got anything to show me at the moment.”

  Seven hugged her legs, staring into the lake herself. “Is that a good sign or an ill omen?”

  “Well, it’s a distinct improvement over hallucinating chains around my wrists and a towering evil monster eating my mate, so I’m gonna go with ‘good.’” He bumped her with his shoulder again. “I know you’ve been brooding over that Lupa woman getting away, but maybe that doesn’t matter. You guys kicked hellhound butt. Maybe they’ve given up. Maybe we’re safe now.”

  “Maybe,” she echoed. “‘Maybe’ is not good enough, Joe.”

  Just the light touch of her hip against his made his body tighten in need. He let out a long, slow sigh, shifting position to put a fraction of an inch of space between them.

  “No,” he admitted. “Not when it comes to your safety. It’s just about killing me, but we can’t mate yet. Not until I know for certain that it won’t put you in danger.”

  She bowed her head. She’d untied her braids from her warrior’s knot, letting them hang free. They shadowed her face, hiding her expression.

  “This is all my fault,” she said in a low, defeated voice. “I failed you.”

  “Hey. You were magnificent. I’m the one who failed.” He slid off the log, kneeling on the ground in front of her. He took her hands. “I should have been able to see more. I shouldn’t have let the squad walk near-blind into such a dangerous situation. It’s only thanks to you that I’m not waking up in chains right now.”

  She shook her head. “I am not fit to be your bodyguard. If you’d had a true knight at your side, a dragon knight, your enemy would not still be at large.”

  Something about the way she’d phrased that snagged his attention. “Hang on. Seven, do you think Lupa got away because you aren’t a sea dragon?”

  She stared down at her hands, pale and small in his own. “A dragon could have protected you better. The others did protect you better. The hellhounds stopped fighting me the instant Rory and Callum shifted.”

  “Which left you free to save me, and I bet the whole pack is kicking themselves tonight about that.” He tightened his grip, wishing that she would lift her head and meet his eyes. “Seven, you sensed the ambush even before Callum did. And Rory told me how you detected when that guy ran out of poison darts. You saved me today because of your animal, not in spite of it.”

  She jerked away from his touch. “I am not a child, to be comforted by unearned praise. I didn’t sense the hellhounds early enough to protect Wystan. And Rory and the others would soon have worked out that that man was bluffing. The truth of the matter is that I would have been more useful today if I was any other type of shifter.”

  “If you weren’t a shark, you wouldn’t be you.”

  “And that would be better!” She struck her breastplate with one fist, her face twisting in shame and self-loathing. “Damn it, Joe, I can’t even shift on dry land. Stop pretending that I’m perfect just the way I am!”

  He sat back on his heels. He studied her, noting her bared teeth and rigid, trembling hands.

  “How long has it been since you last shifted?” he asked.

  She stiffened, eyes going wary as though suspecting some kind of trick. “I…don’t know. A couple of months, I suppose. What does that matter?”

  “A couple of months?” He’d k
nown she couldn’t have shifted since she’d found him in Vegas, but that had only been just over a week ago. “I thought you were in Atlantis before we met!”

  “I was. In human form. I always stay in the air-filled parts of the city.” She said this matter-of-factly, as though it should have been obvious. “Lord Azure was gracious enough to assign me duties that fit my limitations.”

  “What limitations? You’re a shark, for sea’s sake. You can breathe underwater.”

  “So can herring. That does not make a fish equal to a dragon.”

  “Exactly. My kind are descended from land-dwelling creatures that got a whim to paddle about underwater. Compared to you guys, we’re only half-assedly adapted to the ocean.”

  “But you are still dragons. Far bigger and stronger than any shark.”

  “So? Size isn’t everything. I’m ten times bigger than Rory, and I still wouldn’t want to take him on in a fight. You can swim faster than us, dive deeper, sense prey at a greater distance…for the love of sweet little fishes, I don’t think there’s anything that a sea dragon can do better underwater than a shark.”

  “I can,” she snapped. “Not alarm the citizens of Atlantis. Sea dragons would be horrified to see a shark wearing the tokens of the Order of the First Water.”

  “And making sure they continue to not see a shark knight is meant to help them get used to it…how?”

  Her mouth hung ajar for a second. Then her shoulders hunched. “You would not understand. You are a sea dragon. People don’t stare at you.”

  “Hello? Crown Prince of Atlantis here?” He held up his hands in apology, forestalling her angry retort. “Sorry. I know, it’s not the same thing at all. But I do get why you’d be self-conscious about going about your duties in public in shark form. What I don’t get is why Lord Azure and the other knights were happy for you to just hide yourself away. It’s a criminal waste of your talents.”

  She withdrew further, her armor making her look somewhat like an armadillo curling into a ball. “That is not Lord Azure’s opinion.”

  “My opinion of Lord Azure’s opinion can only be expressed with four-letter words, so let’s not get started on that topic. Look, even if he was idiotic enough not to recognize the many benefits of having a shark in the knights, why in the sea would that stop you from shifting at all? Surely he didn’t have you on guard duty every minute of every day. You must have been able to let your shark out for a swim sometimes.”