by Zoe Chant
And then, when he did finally reveal the truth to her—whatever it was—she would pick him.
He hoped.
He quickly skimmed his itinerary for the rest of the day. Normally his daily routine when they were at base was consistent enough that he didn’t need a list—it was one of the things he liked best about the job—but today was different. There was a lot to be done to prepare the base for the winter months: clean all the gym equipment, inventory the supply room, check and lock up all the cabins, oil and wrap tools for storage…
He could sense the crew moving around, going about their assigned tasks. Everyone was working briskly, eager to finish as soon as possible. Once Buck gave the all-clear, most of the Thunder Mountain hotshots would be collecting their final paychecks and scattering, going wherever they went off-season. Only A-squad and Buck would be left behind.
Good. He was looking forward to having fewer lives around. It would make it easier to concentrate on Diana, and winning her heart.
Beth had lost interest in the grass, and was now digging her fingers into the dirt instead. She scooped up a handful, mouth opening ominously. Hastily shoving his notepad back into his pocket, he intercepted her.
“Sorry. Not chocolate flavored.” He brushed off her palms, then offered her his own hands. “Want to practice walking some more?”
She seized his fingers in a surprisingly strong grip. With his help, she could get herself up, but she didn’t seem to know what to do from there. He could practically feel the frustration welling up inside her.
“It’s okay,” he told her, easing her back to a sitting position. “You’ll get it.”
From the way Beth screwed up her face, she wanted to get it now. She drummed her heels against the ground as if trying to kick gravity in the face.
She gave voice to her feelings with a heart-felt, angry, “Abadababadada!”
Whatever she’d been trying to say, she clearly felt strongly about it. And from the way she sucked in her breath, she was preparing to launch into a long, loud speech on the topic. He didn’t want Diana to hear and start worrying that she’d made a mistake, trusting him to look after Beth solo. He cast around for a distraction.
“Look!” He pointed into the trees. “Squirrels!”
There were a pair of squirrels chasing each other around a pine tree at the edge of the woods. But, as Beth’s head snapped round, he belatedly realized that she wouldn’t possibly be able to see them. He couldn’t see them. Not with his eyes, anyway.
He braced himself for a betrayed wail—but Beth clapped her hands. She let out a delighted belly-laugh, as though he’d just whipped out a full three-ring circus for her entertainment. Her gaze perfectly tracked the squirrels, despite the foliage hiding them from view.
She could sense them. She could sense them.
His pegasus flicked its tail in mild exasperation. Of course she can. She is our foal.
He squatted down to Beth’s level, studying her face. She returned his stare guilelessly, her green eyes clear and innocent. Was her own pegasus looking back at him, from the hidden depths of her soul? Was that how she had seemed to recognize him as her father at first sight?
Acting on impulse, he reached out to her telepathically, as he would to another mythic shifter. *Hello?*
She blinked. “Babadadada?”
He could feel the faintest, haziest touch against his own mind, soft as butterfly wings. No words—just pure emotion, shining on his soul like summer sunlight.
Recognition. Delight.
Simple, uncomplicated joy.
Emotion choked his throat. She was a shifter. She was a pegasus, like him. And she knew him.
She loved him.
Ours, his own pegasus whispered. It came forward—not to shift, just stepping further out of his shadowed soul, into the light of Beth’s awareness. It stretched out its neck, reaching out to nuzzle her. Hello, little one.
Beth’s eyes widened. He could feel her attention running over his inner animal, like she was stroking it with her little fingers. It tickled, but he held still, not wanting to do anything to break that delicate communion.
“That’s right,” he said, the barest breath. “That’s me. You have one too. Inside. Part of you.”
Beth cocked her head to one side, barely-there eyebrows drawing down. Her rosebud mouth pursed. She looked even more determined than she had when she’d been attempting to stand up.
“Ba!” she announced in triumphant tones, and shifted.
It happened so fast, he didn’t have time to stop her. Not that he would have had the faintest idea how to stop her. One second, Beth was sitting in the grass, cute and adorable and completely human.
And the next second, she was cute and adorable and a pegasus.
WHAT DID YOU DO? he roared at his inner animal, as Beth fluttered her tiny wings experimentally.
Nothing! His stallion pranced, looking distinctly proud. She did that all by herself! How clever our foal is!
Diana, of course, picked that moment to come out of the shower.
He could sense her moving around, heading back into her bedroom. Her bedroom, with the window that looked out over this meadow. If she glanced out…
He flung himself between Beth and the cabin, squaring his shoulders to try to block her from view as much as possible. Mythic shifters could make themselves invisible to ordinary humans…but it didn’t work on close family members.
This was not how he wanted Diana to find out about the existence of shifters.
Make her change back! he shouted at his pegasus. Quickly!
His pegasus snorted, tail swishing. If she wants to change back, she’ll have to do it herself. But why would she want to? Look how magnificent she is!
Beth also seemed to be pleased with her achievement. She was a deep chestnut red, similar to his own pegasus, though her mane and tail were black. Long black socks marked her legs, like she’d been dipped into ink. Her wings were mottled in unusual shades of red, black, and white. He’d never seen a pegasus with such striking coloring.
Beth dipped her soft muzzle to nose curiously at her own tiny hooves, as though trying to work out what they were. Tentatively, she pushed herself up onto all four legs. Her knees wobbled, but she stayed upright.
Oh no. He spread his arms wider, wishing that he was wearing his firefighting jacket, or possibly a cape.
“Beth,” he said desperately. “Please don’t do that. Please lie back down.”
Beth took a single, tentative step. And another. And another—
He whirled, lunging for her. “Beth!”
Too late.
With a delighted flick of her tail, Beth skipped just out of reach of his grasping fingers. He fell flat on his face, hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. Beth took the opportunity to bound away, growing more confident with every leap.
So strong! Callum’s pegasus enthused. So swift!
He widened the mental channel, flinging out a desperate, indiscriminate plea. *HELP!*
Startled responses from his squad pelted into his mind like a barrage of snowballs. There were too many of them for him to be able to distinguish individual words, but they all carried the same fundamental meaning—we’re coming!
Rory’s mental roar cut through the overlapping babble. *Callum! What’s wrong?*
*Beth,* he sent back, scrambling to his feet. She was already out of eyesight, skipping happily into the forest. *She shifted—she’s running—Diana’s going to come out here any second! I need help!*
*Blaise, Joe, go stall Diana,* Rory ordered, dropping instantly into command mode. *Fenrir, find Beth, cut her off if you can. Callum, don’t panic. We’re on our way.*
He was already charging into the woods after Beth. He could sense the squad dropping what they were doing, scrambling to come to his assistance.
He flung his awareness wider, searching for any hint of threat. What if Beth ran into a bear? What if she tripped and hurt herself? What if Lupa’s hellhounds were still
lurking, in that mysterious place outside his awareness, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce?
A new life did flare into being in front of Beth—but it was only Fenrir. Beth’s random, zig-zagging run came to an abrupt stop.
*Don’t scare her!* he flung into the hellhound’s mind.
*Don’t think can scare this one,* Fenrir sent back, sounding both impressed and amused. *Peace, Shadowhorse. Cub is safe.*
He saw that with his own eyes a second later. Beth had come to a spraddle-legged halt, leaning against Fenrir’s black side, apparently having exhausted her energy. Her flanks heaved, but she looked distinctly smug.
Fenrir’s broad pink tongue smoothed Beth’s tangled mane in long, soothing strokes. *There, clever cub. Back with pack now. All very proud of you.*
“Speak for yourself,” Callum managed to gasp out. Sheer relief hit him like a mallet to the forehead. He sat down hard, putting his head between his knees. “My life just flashed before my eyes. Fenrir, you’re my hero. I forgive you for sharing your rabbit chew toy with Beth.”
Beth staggered over to him, apparently having more trouble coordinating her new legs at low speed. Her soft muzzle nudged his hair. She let out a brief, worried-sounding snort.
“I’m okay, baby.” He patted her in reassurance, stroking her folded wings. Like all young pegasi, she had soft, short feathers rather than being downy like a baby bird. “And I’m not mad. You just scared me. A lot.”
Fenrir’s tongue lolled out in a canine grin. *Least she didn’t fly away, Shadowhorse.*
One of Beth’s ears tilted in the hellhound’s direction. Her head turned, looking up at the sky speculatively.
Callum grabbed her as she started to spread her wings. “Please don’t go giving her any ideas.”
Beth wriggled on his lap. He tightened his grip, hugging her. He didn’t think she would actually be able to fly—her full set of primary feathers wouldn’t come in for years. Then again, he hadn’t thought she’d be able to shift, either. He’d first shifted sometime around his second birthday, and that had been considered precocious enough.
He sensed more lives converging on their location. Rory, Seren and Wystan emerged from the undergrowth, in various degrees of dishevelment. Wystan immediately dropped to his knees next to him, reaching out to Beth. With a nod of thanks, Callum loosened his grip so that the paramedic could check Beth for any scratches or bumps she might have sustained during her brief escapade.
Rory muttered a swearword, staring down at Beth. He was shirtless and barefoot, a towel barely clinging to his hips. He must have been in the shower when Callum’s mental scream had hit him.
“Now there’s a complication we could do without,” he said, shaking water out of his eyes. “How the hell did she manage to shift so young?”
Callum shrugged as best he could with an armful of distinctly disgruntled baby pegasus. “She really wanted to be able to walk.”
“Well, she hasn’t come to any harm from the experience,” Wystan said, finishing his examination. “So now all we have to do is persuade her to shift back. Somehow.”
“Quickly,” Callum added. “Before Diana starts to wonder where we are.”
“Do not fret overmuch on that account. Joe is with her. He’s extremely good at being a distraction.” Seren tilted her head, eyes unfocusing as she communed with her mate. “He says he can keep her occupied for some time. Though he may have to tell her the…apple story?” She looked round at them, frowning. “What is the apple story?”
Callum winced. “We need to get Beth to shift back fast.”
He set Beth back on her hooves in front of him, fixing her with a stern look. She eyed him suspiciously, as though she could tell he wanted to put an end to her fun. She didn’t look the slightest bit ready to shift back into a baby.
“You need to turn back now, Beth.” He tried to send her a mental image of Diana. “Mommy can’t see you like this. She wouldn’t understand.”
Beth’s wings fluttered indecisively. She pranced a little, as if to say: But look! Walking!
“I know. I’ll run with you later, I promise. But right now we need to go back to Mommy.” He kept flooding her with encouraging thoughts, more emotional impressions than images—Diana’s warmth, the softness of her hands, the way she smelled of home. “Mommy misses you. Let’s go back to her now, okay?”
With a soft pop!, Beth shrank down into a human baby once more, balanced on her hands and knees. Callum caught her up before she could topple over. She snuggled happily against his chest, clearly worn out by her brief adventure.
“Well, that’s step one accomplished.” Rory ran a hand through his tousled blond hair, blowing out his breath. “Now how are we going to stop her from doing it again?”
Chapter 13
Diana fingered the braided red cord tied around Beth’s ankle. “I’m still worried that she might be able to get it off and swallow it.”
“I tied it securely. It can’t slip off.” Callum demonstrated, tugging at the anklet. It fit closely against Beth’s skin; not tight enough to dig in, but snug enough that it couldn’t go anywhere. “Please, let her keep it on? I wore one like this too, for a while, though I was a little older at the time. It’s something of a family tradition.”
Diana rubbed her finger over the soft, flat braid again. It was a beautiful thing—just red string, but knotted and tied in an intricate, intriguing pattern. And she liked Beth wearing something that Callum had made for her with his own two hands. It felt like a way for Beth to be carrying her father’s love and protection wherever she went.
“Okay,” she conceded. “As long as it doesn’t bother her.”
At the moment, nothing short of a nuclear explosion looked like it would bother Beth. She lay sprawled on the mattress, arms and legs outflung in total abandon. She’d spent the day crawling around the hotshot base, getting underfoot despite Diana’s best efforts to contain her.
Fortunately, no one had seemed to mind. Even Superintendent Buck, for all his growls and scowls, had succumbed to Beth’s charms. Diana had found him carrying her about in the crook of one arm while he barked orders at his crew. He’d claimed he’d just picked her up so that Callum could get on with his work, but Diana had noticed Buck hadn’t been in a hurry to hand Beth back.
Now, having received a full day of worship from her adoring fan club, Beth had completely crashed. Diana drew the sheet up over her, making sure it was tucked in securely. With a last kiss on her daughter’s forehead, she tiptoed out of the bedroom.
She went out onto the front steps, leaving the cabin door cracked open behind her so that she would be able to hear if Beth woke up. Evening was falling, painting the mountains in gorgeous shades of violet and deep blue.
Callum produced a steaming mug out of nowhere, handing it to her. She sipped, tasting the tang of peppermint. He’d even remembered her favorite tea.
“Thank you.” She sat down on the steps, cupping her hands around the warm mug. There was just starting to be a distinct chill in the air. “So, what does it mean? The red string thing. You said it was a family tradition.”
Without being asked, Callum draped a soft woolen blanket over her shoulders. He sat down next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees. He didn’t answer for a moment, staring up at the darkening sky.
“It’s based on an Irish custom,” he said at last. “To protect babies from the fae folk. Fairies don’t like the color red, according to our stories. So mothers would tie bits of red string to their babies’ cradles. To stop them from being stolen away in the night, and replaced with an uncanny changeling child.”
“You tied it to Beth herself, though.”
“Well, she doesn’t have a cradle.” His brow furrowed. “Which reminds me, I forgot to order a cot today. You can’t keep sleeping on the floor with her. I have to make a note.”
He evidently meant that literally, as he pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket. She caught a glimpse of pages and pages filled with dense, ne
at handwriting as he flipped through it.
“Wow,” she said, a little startled. “You’re certainly organized.”
She’d meant it as a compliment, but he shot her a brief, furtive glance, cupping the notebook in his hand. He looked more like he’d been caught with porn rather than a planner.
“I—just like to have a list.” He scribbled a brief note, and made the book disappear again. “There. I won’t forget now. If you think of anything else she needs to be comfortable, just let me know.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back, of course.”
He shook his head. “She’s my daughter. Anything she needs, I’ll get her. Or you.”
That was edging too close to a topic that she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to address yet. After his startling declaration of love that morning, he’d stuck strictly to sensible, practical matters ever since. But she’d felt his unspoken feelings following her around all day, like a very polite elephant.
She retreated back to safer ground. “So, once Beth does have a cot, will you put the red string on that instead of round her ankle?”
“No.” He hesitated, looking at her side-long. “I want it to keep her safe when she’s awake, not just when she’s asleep. I’m sorry. I know that sounds ridiculous. Talking about fairies like I believe in them.”
“Do you believe in them?”
He was silent for a long, long time. Just when she’d decided he wasn’t going to answer the question, he spoke at last.
“I believe there’s a world most people don’t even know exists. I believe that there are things that walk among us, invisible to human eyes. Powers. Creatures. Some fair. Some dangerous. Some both.”
His voice was deep and solemn. It seemed to echo in her bones, in the center of her chest. The skin on her arms prickled under the blanket.
“I believe that Beth needs to be protected from that world,” Callum went on. He stared out into the forest, his face in profile to her. “At least until she’s old enough to know its risks. I gave her the anklet to keep it out of her reach for now, the same way that I would put a child-lock on a knife drawer. To keep her safe.”
