by K. N. Knight
I snatched my knife from under my pillow and slipped it out of its sheath, then I slid out of my blankets as quietly as I could and perched on the edge of the bed, waiting. All I owned in the world was in my ratty old backpack, and there was no way in hell that anyone was getting their hands on it. I strained my ears for sounds of people’s possessions being rifled through, but there was none of the rustling I’d expected. It was more like…like they were going around the room methodically, trying to identify the occupants. And they were getting closer and closer to my bed. My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat, and adrenaline charged through my limbs. I flexed my muscles and stared wildly into the darkness, prepared to stab the first person who approached.
And then someone grabbed me from behind, one arm around my waist and the other grasping my knife arm so tightly that the six-inch blade fell from my grasp. A moment later, someone else grabbed my ankles. I screamed and kicked for all I was worth, but both my feet were grasped in big, powerful hands. Come on, shift, I told myself, trying desperately to push my animal out of me, willing it to be something smooth and slippery and lithe. The change was slow at first; it had been too long since I’d last shifted. But as one of my attackers dragged me off the bed backward, it began to burst through my skin, ears and paws first. It was my fox, the most frequent manifestation of my spirit animal. As my body became lighter and wirier I thrashed and struggled and bit at anything I could. But it was too late, their grips were like iron. And suddenly the first attacker flipped me so I was on my back in his arms, my limbs trapped against his body.
“Help me! They’re hurting me!” I screamed into the darkness, still in possession of my human voice. But I sensed a collective turning away. Everyone in that room was wide awake, but too chicken-shit terrified of my attackers to lift a finger to help me.
I fought as hard as a vixen defending her cubs, but they hauled me out of the room, along the corridor, and through the canteen as effortlessly as if they had night vision.
My animal kept trying to break through, and at last my tail swished behind me, thick and full, and I assumed my fox’s keen, cool eyesight. Now I could see two tall, powerfully built men striding ahead. The three of them were shifters as well, I registered belatedly. “What the hell are you doing with me?” I hollered. “If you don’t get the fuck off me right now, you’re going to be very fucking sorry!”
The men ahead of me didn’t so much as turn, intent on their mission, and my blood chilled. There was no way they were going to let me go. With a fox’s high-pitched scream, I redoubled my efforts, kicking and snarling and wriggling desperately. Usually I loved being in my fox form, with her ability to squeeze through even the smallest of spaces, but the arms of the shifter carrying me might as well have been a cage.
“Shh,” he whispered in a rumbling tone. “Relax. We’re not going to hurt you, little fire-fox.”
I jabbed him in the ribs and had a flicker of satisfaction when he grunted in pain. “Don’t you dare try to calm me down. Put me down right now! That’s the only fucking thing that’s going to relax me!” I said with an effort, fighting the total shift that would deprive me of my voice.
“I can’t. We all need each other,” he murmured.
At last I turned my head to look at his face. With laser-beam clarity, I took in short dark hair, a strong jaw, a strong, straight nose, heavy brows, and big dark eyes glittering with animal intensity. And then his gaze met mine, and I screamed again. Pain corkscrewed through my body. But it was from nothing that he was doing to me. He was holding me almost tenderly. The pain came from him. From years ago. Sufferings he hadn’t yet faced. As potent as paint fumes, they made me dizzy so I stopped struggling, my head getting lighter and lighter.
“That’s better. Just take it easy,” he crooned. He held me tighter as I slumped like a ragdoll in his arms. I hated my submission, raged against it, but his pain left my body helpless.
He’d carried me a little way down the street where there were two horses and a covered cart, like one of those old pioneer wagons, in the road. When they started loading me onto it, my brain screamed. No! Do not let them do this! But by then I was barely conscious, unable to fight through the phantom agony that fogged my head. After they laid me down in the back on something soft and comfortable and wrapped a blanket around me, I passed out cold.
Chapter 3
I woke up gradually, drifting in and out of dreams, until with a start, I remembered. My eyes flickered open, but at the sound of voices in the distance, I closed them again. I still hurt. But now it was bearable, only a dull ache throughout my limbs and an intense thudding in my head.
Fighting the urge to go into full-on flight mode, I assessed my immediate surroundings. There was no sensation of movement, which either meant that the wagon had stopped, or I had been removed from it. I was lying on something comfortable, maybe even a mattress or bedroll, and from the faint redness behind my eyelids, I deduced it was now light outside.
I concentrated on the voices. Three men were talking, the one who’d trapped me in his arms for sure, but I couldn’t tell whether the others were also my attackers. They were discussing some kind of plan. I listened hard, trying to force my groggy brain to separate out the words into sentences.
“No, I don’t like this idea. We fucked up. She’s not right. Let’s just drop her off somewhere. She’ll be fine. She looks like a hobo anyway,” a well-spoken, almost disdainful voice said.
“Man, are you crazy? We spent all this time following her, making sure she was the right one. And everything’s gone according to plan. What’s your deal?” This was the one who’d had me in his arms.
Following me? A chill raced through me, my skin breaking out in gooseflesh. I knew I’d been followed. I’d felt it so many times over the past weeks but kept telling myself I was being paranoid. Idiot. Why did you not trust your own instincts?
The first one again: “I was wrong, dammit. Didn’t you see the way she passed out on us? There’s something wrong. This chick’s no good for us. This whole idea was pathetic anyway.”
A third voice this time: “Retrospect is a fine thing. So, what do you suggest, genius? We decided on this plan together, and it’s the best plan we have. Actually, the only plan we have. So unless you’re about to knock me sideways with the force of your brainwave, let’s stop complaining and get on with it.” This voice is deep, smooth, and kind of dangerous.
The first one again, huffing contemptuously: “Okay, maybe I was too hasty. I guess the plan’s fine. But not this girl. She’s a weakling. Can’t you see we’ve almost killed her already?”
There was a long rumble, and again I recognized the timbre of the one who’d carried me. “Enough!” he said loudly. “I’ve spent too long tailing her, observing her, to give up on her now. We know what she’s capable of. I guess the shock just knocked her sideways.”
“I mean, do you have any experience in abducting women and observing their reactions to determine whether this is an unusual way to behave? Because I sure as hell don’t.” This was the smooth voice again, dripping in sarcasm.
The disdainful one again: “whatever. Don’t blame me if all of this goes to shit.”
There was a collective grunt of what I took to be an agreement, followed by the unmistakable sound of feet approaching. My eyes snapped open, and in a single movement, I’d flipped myself off the mattress that I’d been lying on, dropping down three feet or so, before landing on my toes on a hard floor. But, holy crap. I was still half-shifted, my hands little black paws, my tail swishing back and forth behind me. I must’ve looked like I was on my way to an animal-themed costume party. That had never happened to me before. But then, I’d never passed out before while in the middle of being abducted. I concentrated hard, and my animal retracted. I had no idea how my body would perform in half shifter-half human form, and I needed all my faculties to be firing at maximum capacity right now.
Simultaneously, I took in the the long, broad, white-walled room I wa
s in, and the three big, tall men who were crossing it. The one I’d seen already was the biggest. His body was stocky and dense with muscle. Beefy, but not at all fat. He had dark eyes, heavy eyebrows and a strong jaw, covered in beard scruff. The man on his left was equally tall, but less chunky in build. He had a broad chest and narrow hips, and the arms emerging from the sleeves of his T-shirt were tanned and very muscular. It was the physique of a track athlete. His hair was dark blond and kind of floppy, and he had light-colored eyes and very refined, angular features, which matched his somewhat disdainful expression. He’s the one who wants to get rid of me, I realized. The third man was also musclebound, between the other two in build, and also had light-colored eyes, with a broad, handsome face and golden brown hair, which was long enough to be messy. There was something prowling in his gait—loose limbed and very confident.
I was prepared for attack, fists planted on hips as threateningly as possible, so I was shocked when they came to a stop several feet in front of me, hands hanging loose at their sides. The pain of the dark-eyed one rolled at me again in a relentless tide. I kept my gaze averted from him. The residual pain was bad enough to deal with; I suspected another full dose would knock me flat a second time. Instead, I glared at the other two as fiercely as I was able.
“What do you want from me?” I demanded, and I was horrified at the strangled sound that came out of me. I coughed and tried again, much louder this time. They all flinched. Good. I might have been unarmed and about a third of their size, but that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for them.
The beefy one took a half-step forward, and I kept my gaze firmly on the ground. “We brought you here because we hope you will be the key to restoring balance in the world,” he said in a deep rumble.
The messy-haired one, whose handsome face incongruously suggested a good nature, cleared his throat and lifted his hands, palms out. “I apologize for the unconventional way we’re introducing our plan to you and for the fright that we gave you. I am deeply sorry for that. But I hope in time you will forgive us and understand there was no other way.”
He’s very smooth, I thought. Despite his torn-up gray T-shirt and battered combat pants. I was sure that before the fires he made good money out of persuading people to do things. Maybe as a lawyer or a diplomat. I still had no idea what they were talking about, and I wasn’t about to dignify their behavior by asking them a bunch of naïve questions. Instead, I continued to stand silently, glaring, while my animal surged inside me, eager to come out.
Evidently disappointed I wasn’t saying anything, smooth, handsome guy spread both hands wide. “Allow us to introduce ourselves anyway. My name is Rael. I’m a tiger shifter, if you haven’t guessed.”
I rolled my eyes; of course, he was. That prowling, engaging confidence. Those cool green eyes that transfixed you while he leapt on top of you and tore your heart out with his claws.
“And I’m Zain,” the beefy guy said. “I’m a bear shifter.” A big, growly bear with a thick, impenetrable hide, a heavy tread, and a ground-shaking rumble of a voice. Right. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt with torn-off sleeves and black jeans. Simple, functional clothing.
Despite my hatred for the three of them, I automatically turned to the third to find out what type of shifter stood behind the final door. When he remained silent, Zain the bear dug him in the ribs.
“Oh, yeah, I’m Oran. I’m a golden eagle shifter. The biggest and noblest species.” The slight hook to his nose, those piercing, pitiless eyes. That figured. He was dressed more smartly than the other two, in a light blue button-down and navy cord pants. Unusual to care about looking these smart days. His eyes were pale blue, I could see that now, a lighter shade than his shirt.
I nodded and tapped my toe on the ground, demonstrating just how unimpressed I was. “Ranger Mason. But I guess you know my name since you’ve been following me all this time,” I said.
Three sets of eyes widened and glittered. It might have been a little comical if I wasn’t such a jumpy combination of scared and furious right now.
“Do you know this from overhearing a conversation just now, or did you sense it at the time?” Oran demanded, eyes narrowing to icy slits.
I thrust my chin forward. “Does it matter?”
His face hardened and he shifted his weight forward slightly—an eagle beginning its unassailable swoop toward its prey. “It matters.” The muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at me, unblinking.
I shrugged as if I wasn’t on the verge of wetting my pants. “I sensed it, yeah. Thought I saw you characters hiding in the bushes a couple of times. And when I overheard you having your little management meeting now, it was just confirmation of what I suspected.”
Zain let off a rumble. “I told you guys we were being too obvious.” He gave the other two a hard look.
But Oran nodded, looking pleased. “You are perceptive, at least. That’s something to be grateful for.”
“Oh yeah, I’m perceptive,” I spat. “Perceptive enough to see what an arrogant ass you are.”
Rael took another half-step forward, head dipped. Yup, he was good. The negotiator in this motley crew. “Again, I apologize for that, especially if it caused you any distress. But we needed to follow you for an extended period to determine whether you were the one.”
The One. I rolled my eyes. “Tell me, pray, in what way could I be The One?”
Rael’s lips parted in a grin which, in an alternate dimension, would have been very sexy. He evidently took my curiosity as a sign I was thawing out. Please.
“It’s a long story, and it might be more comfortable if we were seated,” he said, his eyes shining with grass-green persuasion.
“I’m good here,” I said shortly, folding my arms.
“Okay, okay.” He did that spreading-his-hands-out thing again, which was evidently supposed to pacify me. “So…where to begin? Right, as you know, there has been no fire in the world since the great fires burned half the planet five years ago.”
“Nope. I had no idea since I’ve been in a coma for the past five years,” I said.
He paused, looking pained. “And as you know, humans haven’t been able to explain why fire won’t start. They keep harping on about how all three necessary elements of the fire triangle are present in the atmosphere—heat, fuel and oxygen—and how illogical and impossible it all is that the fire doesn’t come. But only shifters know the truth.” He paused, watching me carefully.
“Which is?” I said, figuring it was better to keep him busy while I tried to figure out my escape. I held my head low, kept stealing sidelong glances around the room. Apart from several small windows, a closed door at the far end of the room was the only exit.
“It was no accident the wildfires that engulfed the world all began at the same time. But it wasn’t a coordinated terrorist attack as some humans have surmised. It was the death of the last Phoenix. As you know, there is only one Phoenix in the entire world, and every five hundred years it dies in a huge show of combustion and fire. I understand this was the most dramatic demise of any Phoenix ever, hence the way the fires got so out of control. Once the Phoenix dies, a new Phoenix is reborn out of the ashes, immediately, restoring fire to the world. But this time, it didn’t happen.”
“Why’s that?” I supplied distractedly while wondering which of my spirit animals would give me the best chance of escape. I had some control over which animal I turned into—or at least I would until I reached maturity and my spirit animal became fixed—but it was never absolutely predictable, since it came from my subconscious self. I thought about turning into a snake and how quickly I could slip into undergrowth, but I wasn’t sure what was beyond the door, and I could imagine Oran’s cruel talons tearing into my poor flesh only too well.
“No one knows. All shifters know of the Phoenix, of course, and it has been revered since the beginning of time—”
“I don’t,” I interrupted.
They all looked very pleased, and I got
a squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“You haven’t been among other shifters?” Oran cut in.
“Some,” I said with a head toss.
His lips curved in a smile that didn’t show any teeth—a smile with more than a hint of cruelty. “There’s no need to lie to us.”
Rael cleared his throat. “The Phoenix is a stabilizing force in the universe, which provides one of the four essential elements. Unlike humans, we don’t need fire for basic survival, but without it, our world is out of balance. That’s why shifters have been losing their humanity and retreating to their animal sides. They’re becoming dangerous and turning mad. They’ve been attacking humans, and many of them have been put down, sometimes by their own families.”
He stopped and, throat convulsing, dropped his gaze to the ground, but not before his pain hit me in the chest like a sucker punch. He blew out a long breath. “Without the rebirth of the Phoenix, fire will never return to the world. And humans are destined to live in stone-age conditions, while shifters are likely to slaughter each other into extinction. Since this has never happened in recorded history before, no one knows what it will take to bring it back, if that’s even possible.”
There was such passion in his voice and expression, but I eyed him skeptically through my eyelashes. He was nuts. That had to be it. He’d concocted this crazy story, and somehow he’d gotten the others to believe it, too. What was this, a secret religious cult awaiting the second coming of the Phoenix? Church of the Latter Day Phoenixes? I gave an involuntary snort, which somehow turned into a coughing fit. All of a sudden, I felt weak again and sat back down on the bed.
“You must be hungry,” Zain said. “I’ll get you some food.”
I thought I heard a flicker of compassion in his rumbling voice, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him to confirm it. His pain was the strongest of the three. It was all-encompassing and knocked me like a gale force wind when I met his gaze. Rael’s pain was like a shard of something bright and hard, but I could dodge it if I needed to. Oran had suffered, too, but he hid it deep, beneath layers of self-assurance, and my own hostility kept it at bay without too much difficulty.
