by Elsa Jade
Thor glanced at Rita. “Let’s roll.”
“I don’t roll so much as pogo,” she informed him as she headed for the front door, grabbing a messenger bag from the hall closet as she walked by.
“I knew there was something special about you.”
Circling toward the driver’s door, Gin rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me come back there, you two.”
Brandy followed them out, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Be careful.”
Thor nodded at her and asked Gin, “You okay to drive? That wine…”
She sniffed. “Turns out, my Anti-Love Potion Number Ninety-Six works better as a general anti-intoxicant rather than anti-love specifically. I can get you to the shop and I’ll come back and make sure we’re ready to evacuate if necessary.”
As he opened the sliding door for Rita and followed her, he reflected that the Wick sisters were a force to be reckoned with, and not just magically.
The drive to the Sunday Landscaping yard beyond the edge of town went quick with Gin at the wheel. The old VW spit gravel as she swung through the parking lot where a handful of other trucks were already park, headlights beaming through the night. The word was out: Help was needed and the townspeople came.
But some of the company’s shifters were at outdoor school with their pups, cubs, and kittens before the start of real school, and another team was in Albuquerque for a big public works project. There weren’t as many as he would’ve liked to see.
Blaze Domingo, whose mother owned the landscaping company, was already there, directing the crews. Most of them had worked together for years, and they were loading their tools and safety equipment with the speed of easy familiarity. The front-end loader was already up on its flatbed, and Ammon, an older wolf shifter, and his partner were in the front seat, ready to go.
“Shoot,” Rita muttered. “I guess you’ll have to teach me how to use the cherry picker instead.”
“I pick you,” he murmured, “every time.”
In the harsh light of the truck headlights, her eyes sparkled. “Since you already popped my cherry…” she whispered.
He gawped at her for a moment and she slid smoothly out of the bus. When he went to follow her—by the great bear, he’d follow her anywhere—Gin clamped her hand over his where he’d braced himself on the headrest of the front seat.
Her other hand still on the wheel, she swiveled to face him, her gaze sharper than her sister’s. “Don’t you let her get burned, yeah?”
“We probably won’t be anywhere near the fire,” he reassured her.
“I’m not talking about the fire,” she said with a glower.
Right. He gave her a respectful nod. “She’ll come first with me, always.”
Gin’s scowl deepened. “Are you still talking about sex, or…?”
He slipped his hand out from underneath hers and patted her knuckles. “One day, when you’re old enough, your sister will explain it to you.”
She snorted. “Go put that thing out.”
He jumped out of the bus and yanked the door closed, giving it a slap to send Gin on her way. He turned to find Rita had already collected two yellow reflective vests and hardhats from the back of a pickup.
He took a set from her but grabbed the strap of her messenger bag when she started to walk over to where the rest of the crew was gathering around Blaze. “You’ll stay out of danger, no matter what happens. Promise me?”
“Of course. I’m not reckless.” She flashed a smile at him. “Except with you.”
“That…doesn’t actually reassure me.” He kept ahold of her as they joined the crew.
She leaned into him, just a little, as they listened to Blaze quickly lay out their roles backing up the volunteer firefighters who had the better equipment. Though she’d grabbed a jacket from the closet along with her bag, a little shiver went through her, and Thor tucked her closer. Sometimes his bulk was threatening, he knew, but he could at least shelter her from the night wind.
His wolf shifter boss wasn’t out of his twenties yet, but he been working the crews since his teens, and he assigned their positions with confidence. There were a lot of ways to be a leader, Thor mused.
As if hearing his thoughts, Blaze lifted his head to meet his stare. “Thor, you are the biggest of us. This late, there won’t be any unsuspecting eyes to see, if you wanted to get out with some claws at the end of the firebreak. I think that would give us a guaranteed line in the sand.” He grimaced. “As much as anything can be guaranteed, of course.”
Thor froze. Yeah, bear claws moved dirt faster and deeper than a shovel, but he didn’t have his bear, and he couldn’t summon the same strength. He had to confess his failure—
Rita cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I’d be much help there, because of these.” She clacked the ends of her crutches together. “But my nephew and other clan members are camping out on the mesa tonight and might not realize what’s happening. Maybe we should take one of the smaller trucks up in case we need to bring them news of any evacuation.”
Blaze’s dusky skin blanched. He and his mate were expecting their first cub soon, so he was particularly sensitive to their littlest pack mates in danger. “It won’t get that far,” he vowed. “But just in case… Take my truck. I’ll take the Sprinter. I might not have your claws, but I’m pretty good on a shovel.” He clamped his forearm to Thor’s, gripping tight. “Keep the little ones safe.” Tossing his keys to Rita, he spun away to join the rest of the crew.
Thor swallowed hard. To be given responsibility for all the offspring of the Angels Rest shifters… It wasn’t a task Blaze should’ve trusted to a half-rogue, half-ghost, not-even-half-a-beast shifter. With one thunk of her crutches, Rita had basically finished rehabilitating the reputation of the bear clan.
He loomed behind her as she hustled toward the tricked-out Ranger. “You’ve never let anything keep you from doing what needs to be done.”
“As long as you know that.” She jangled the keys between her fingers. “And Blaze knows that too. There’s plenty of people here for the front lines, so let’s make sure our rear is covered too.”
He grabbed her by the back pocket of her snug, slick athletic pants and reeled her in for a quick, almost desperate kiss. “I’ll be watching your rear,” he promised.
She grinned at him, fast and sweet. “More likely I’ll be watching yours.”
This was part of being a team—someone to watch his back, someone at his side, and yes, someone to lead the way sometimes. And as rex ursi, he never would’ve known this moment.
Still, it took all that remained of his great strength to let her slide behind the wheel of the souped-up truck. Apparently he retained enough alpha male to want the wheel. Well, without his beast, he could have a lifetime of learning to play nicely with others. For sure Rita would tell him if he stepped out of line.
With a grin, he hopped into the passenger seat and pulled on his seatbelt. “I’ll show you the back way up the mesa.”
“Shifters only?” Deftly, she spun the Ranger out of the parking lot while the rest of the crew was still loading up.
“That’s neither of us,” he said with a flick of one finger. “But we’re not really lawbreakers since it’s an unstated rule.”
“Baby steps.” The Ranger’s tires squealed as he gestured and she hooked a sharp turn. The rear of the truck fishtailed, and he braced one hand against the roof until she straightened out. She slanted a glance at him. “Little more vroom then the VW.”
Despite the serious circumstances, his heart felt as big and bright as the moonlit rose unfurling into the flask. “You want to try the Harley next?”
She laughed. “You’d let me?”
“If you want.” Anything you want. This was why the rex ursi walked alone, because what he had to give belonged to the clan. How lucky for him, then, that he had nothing.
The narrow gravel road he pointed out to her skirted the base of the mesa, weaving past a few scree slopes where the basalt spires
that ringed the edge of the mesa had crumbled in places. No through-roads led to the mesa; as with all things shiftery, it was meant to be hard to find from the outside world. Of course that also meant the camping kids weren’t easy to reach. If they’d decided to do a night hike down on the plain, as he and Rita had been doing, they could be in trouble’s path.
He’d been tasked with watching over the literal futures of not just the bear clan but the wolf pack and the other Four Corners shifters. And he was doing it without his beast. But he had Margarita Wick behind the wheel. Whatever happened, he wasn’t on his own.
As they started up the first switchback of the steep incline and caught their first clear view across the desert floor, the surge of confidence guttered out.
“Aw hell,” he cursed under his breath just as Rita choked out, “Blessed be.”
It looked like hell, or at least the first circle of it. Although the highway angled away from the mesa—the town’s shifter elders had made sure that survey crews sited all roads away from their hallowed space—the fire had no interest in keeping their secrets. It may have started carelessly next to the asphalt, but pushed hither and yon by the erratic night winds, it was spreading in a scalloped pattern in multiple directions at once.
And one finger had reached the junipers.
Even at this distance, the flames, fed by the bigger, oilier leaves, were visible as individual tongues of ravenous light. And there was nothing to stop them before they reached the ponderosas. If the fire crowned, it could stair-step up trees clinging to the steep cliffs and rage across the mesa. The same secret wellsprings that had given refuge to the shapeshifters for centuries had watered enough growth to fuel a terrible conflagration if it got out of hand.
And wasn’t that the darkest magic of all? That the thing they needed to survive—water, secrets, love—was the thing that put them most at risk.
The rex ursi—simple, straightforward beast that it was—would rage at the unfairness. But Thor suspected the beautiful witch at his side would tell him just do what had to be done.
“It’s not too far from the highway, is it?” Rita’s voice shook slightly. “Your crew should be able to see it, get to it soon.”
He shook his head. “It spread through the dead brush left from spring floods in the arroyos.” Just as his father had disappeared after their fight. “See how it looks like veins? And the mesa spires will hide the break until it’s too late. The only reason we can see this is because we’re higher.” He grabbed the two-way radio from the glovebox and tried to reach the other trucks. But of course the inconveniences of modern living that had made Angels Rest an isolated backwater perfect for shifters gave him only static.
With another muttered curse, he shoved the radio in his shirt pocket. Getting crowded in there with the flask.
“Should we go back?”
Had that ever worked, for anything? “Let’s get higher and see if I can get a clearer line of sight.”
The next switchback ducked between a trio of pinyon pine that had found a foothold in dirt wedged into the rocky crevices. The Ranger’s tires spun in the blanket of dry needles littering the gravel. If the fire reached this high, they’d burn like torches.
On the next turn, the truck faced the fire again.
“Is it growing? It looks brighter.” Rita’s hands slid from ten and two on the wheel and choked up to eleven and one—he guessed this was her version of freaking out.
The veins of fire seemed to pulse in time with the wind. “We’re almost to the top. Two more switchbacks.”
The last turn was so steep she dropped into the lowest gear and the truck still strained. He didn’t bother grabbing for the roof; if they went over the edge, he’d be grabbing for her.
When they clawed their way out to a slick rock, she let out a seething breath and stomped on the brake.
“Wait here while I see if I can reach anybody.” He strode to the edge of the cliff where the broken basalt left a jagged rim, only a few feet down to the next ledge in some places but in others a sheer drop to the plain below. From here, the lights of the sleeping town dotted the flatness with Gypsy’s roadhouse a lonely neon outpost nearer the highway. Beyond that…
Yeah, the fire was definitely growing. Headlights from the Domingo crew and the volunteer firefighters cut white lines across the dark but couldn’t outshine the virulent scarlet and yellow flames. He toggled the radio switch and got more static. Dammit, if he could just yell loud enough… But just in case, he toggled again and said, “This is Thor Montero, up on the mesa. I’m seeing flames in the ditches between the highway and the cottonwoods near the spring. You could still get ahead of it with the front loader and a half dozen dumps. Anybody receiving?” Static was his only answer, and none of the white lights peeled away to investigate.
“I think we should find Mac and Aster and the other campers.” Rita stood at his elbow, staring down at the scene. Her hair had come mostly out of its tidy ponytail, and the auburn locks wavered in the wind.
“Honestly, I was hoping to find some sign or catch a whiff of them already since the pack often starts hunts for the young pups and cubs from here, near the creek where game is plentiful.” He ran one hand over his head. “But I got nothing.”
“The mesa is a big, empty place,” she fretted. “Now we can’t find them and we can’t even tell the crews down there about the fire expanding—”
“Rita.” He dropped his hand to her nape and gave her a soft squeeze. The tickle of her curls made his knuckles itch but the sensation was somehow calming. “I know you’re used to getting things done.”
She tossed her head back to glare at him, pinning his fingers. “Things have never been actually burning before!”
The far-away lights—stars, headlights, flames—glittered in her eyes and on the inner curve of her plump upper lip. This wasn’t the time, but…
He brushed his mouth over hers, not just a kiss, but a steadying breath shared between them, a reminder that she wasn’t doing this alone. He needed the reminder too.
When he lifted his head, his Wranglers felt tighter but his mind was clear, as if she were all the balance he needed in this world. He looked down at her hand centered on his chest, the rose flask just beyond her fingertips. “Okay, what do you have in that bag of spells? I know you didn’t bring us all the way up here just to rely on everyone else.”
She scoffed. “This is a runaway wildfire. If the firefighters can’t get a hold of it, what chance do I have?”
“Whatever chance you give it. We had a snowstorm in the desert in July because of circle magic,” he reminded her. “I know you can do this.”
She jerked away from him. “But the snowstorm was a mistake, magic gone wrong. It’s too dangerous. And that’s not what I do. Not who I am.”
“You out of control with me.” He let his voice dropped an octave. “And you seemed to like it.”
She tossed her head again, losing the last of her ponytail entirely so her auburn hair—the red hue like a fire banked to coals—flufffed around her face. “You weren’t a mistake.” She stared up at him, her eyes narrowing. “It might have been dangerous but it wasn’t wrong.” She thumped her crutches against the slickrock, the same way a bear would stomp a warning. “But maybe…”
He watched her with a half grin, loving to see the whirl of her mind and magic in action. “Yeah? Maybe what?”
“The snowstorm in July seemed like a mistake, but actually…it was more just out of sync. Gin was trying to craft an anti-love spell while she was falling in love, so of course the magic went sideways. But in this case, we want opposites to attract.”
“Water to fire,” he murmured.
She nodded, making her hair fly. “But where do we get water in the desert? We need a lot of it, and fast.”
“Lake Angel has the volume, but it’s too far. It feeds Angel Creek from here and filters down through the spires to reappear in the spring at the base of the mesa. That’s what fills the arroyos in a flash flood.�
�� He paced around her. “So we have the water, just not where we need it.”
“Story of my life,” she muttered. She spun back to the truck.
He hustled after her. “We can’t just give up.”
“Not the story of my life,” she said. “Or yours either, right?” She swung open the cab door and grabbed her messenger bag. Flicking on the flashlight she’d taken from the door pocket, she turned back to him. “Let’s get wet.”
Chapter 13
She had no idea what she was doing.
The realization was not pleasant. She always knew what she was doing. She had entire grimoires, written and illustrated, and a big basement of tools and provisions that supported her in her serious, meticulous studies so she never had any doubts.
But all of that was too far away and would take too long to gather around her.
For all the years she’d kept her sensible shoes firmly on the ground, safely within the circle, now she was flying solo without a clue, much less an actual spell.
Except…she wasn’t really solo. Thor was right beside her.
“You know, I never used to wander out into the desert at night or go skinny-dipping or have sex or fight wildfires,” she told him.
He glanced down at her, his dark eyes somber. “You’re welcome.”
With a snort, she swung the beam of her flashlight in a short arc. The slickrock had given way to gravel and then to stubby grasses and then to brush, and now the cool scent of water tickled her nose. In another few steps, the gurgle of the creek reached them.
“The willows are too dense right here,” Thor said. “Come this way to the water.”
A shallow slope of rock and gravel—the kind that would fill up with snow melt or a flash flood—led to the creek’s edge. She clipped the flashlight to a willow branch, and the crazy swing of the white beam turned the night into the world’s most boring dance party.
