Firefighter Phoenix

by Zoe Chant

  As Rory watched, Ash lifted his gaze slightly above the heads of the crowd. Across the room, his eyes met Rose’s. Just a moment, a glance.

  But that look…

  Rory looked away, blinking, feeling as though he’d stared directly into the sun. It was the same way his parents looked at each other, even after twenty-five years and five children.

  Intense yearning hollowed out his heart. He’d grown up around mated couples, true mated couples. Having seen the real thing, he could never settle for anything less for himself.

  One day, whispered his griffin, with utter certainty. We will meet our mate. And we will claim her, to treasure and protect, always.

  “Though maybe we can still change his mind,” Chase continued, with a wicked sideways glance at Griff. “If we told him our deep and terrible concerns about this new guy who’s meant to be replacing him. Anyone want to sign a petition of no confidence?”

  “Me,” Griff said dryly, as everyone else grinned and shook their heads. “I still think Dai should have got it.”

  “Not on your life.” Dai’s amused Welsh voice floated over Rory’s shoulder. The dragon shifter came up to the group, mouth crooked in a smile, his arm draped over his mate. “I like charging into burning buildings, not paperwork. You are more than welcome to the boring job of standing back and ordering everyone else around. Hello, Rory. How’s life out in the wilderness?”

  “Hot,” Rory said, clasping his arm in greeting. “You should come join us next season, uncle Dai. Our last big one covered eight thousand acres. Took us three weeks to get it under control.”

  “Don’t let your mother hear you,” his dad advised. “She worries enough about you as it is. The less she knows about your work, the better.”

  “Well, I’ll have to tell her a few things.” Rory cleared his throat, his face heating. “It’s nothing like your promotion, but…I made squad boss.”

  He’d expected smiles and congratulations. He hadn’t counted on Chase whooping loud enough to make half the heads in the pub turn, then seizing him in a fierce hug. What little breath he had left after that was knocked out by John and Dai pounding on his back. Even Hugh joined in, clapping him on the shoulder.

  And as for his dad…

  His shining eyes said everything. His father’s pride wrapped round him like golden wings.

  “Like father, like son,” Chase said, releasing him at last. “Congratulations! So you’ll be leading your own team now?”

  Rory nodded, still flushed with mingled pride and self-consciousness. “My superintendent found out what I am. When I told him about Alpha Team, well…” He grinned round at them all. “That’s the other reason I’m here.”

  “An all-shifter hotshot crew?” Wystan said.

  As expected, Rory had found him lurking in one of the Full Moon’s back corridors, away from the crush. From the faint, tight lines of stress across his forehead, he’d needed a few minutes away from the party to regroup and recover. Few people would guess from his unfailingly polite manner, but Wystan was intensely introverted. A large crowd drained his energy rapidly.

  “A squad,” Rory corrected. “Six people in a squad, three squads to a crew. I’m just a squad boss, not the superintendent.”

  The corner of Wystan’s mouth turned up. “Yet. Evidently leadership runs in the family.”

  Rory’s griffin preened itself at the comparison. Yes. We will be Alpha of our own pride, just like our sire. It fell silent for a moment, then added, thoughtfully, And our territory will be bigger.

  Rory suppressed a snort. The State Parks aren’t our personal territory, you know. It’s just our job to protect them.

  Yes, his griffin agreed, serenely unruffled. That is what an Alpha does.

  Wystan was waiting politely, pretending not to notice Rory’s distraction. Any shifter could recognize the signs of someone conversing with their inner beast. Rory shook himself, pushing his griffin back down.

  “Sorry,” he said, with an apologetic grimace. “Nothing important. So, what do you think?”

  “About your idea?” Wystan smiled, his green eyes warm. “It’s got a lot of potential. Many shifter talents are more suited for wildland firefighting than urban. But where are you going to find your recruits? You’ll never persuade Connor to swap smokejumping for mere ground crew.”

  “Wasn’t planning to. Smokejumpers are reckless. I want shifters with more sense.” Rory pointed a finger at Wystan. “So what do you say?”

  Wystan’s white eyebrows shot up so far, they nearly met his hairline. “Me?”

  “Why not? From what I hear, you passed fire academy with flying colors.”

  Wystan shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on actually joining a crew. It was just a stepping-stone to get onto a degree course. I’m thinking of going into fire forensics.”

  “Come on, you can’t just retreat into books and study theory. You need to get some experience of what it’s actually like to attack a ten thousand acre forest fire with nothing but a chainsaw and a shovel.”

  “You make it sound so appealing,” Wystan murmured.

  “You’ll love it. Trust me.” Rory leaned forward, his own voice dropping into warm, persuasive tones. “We get deployed all over America, to some of the most beautiful and remote areas. Just picture it. Open skies…soaring mountains…magnificent forests…”

  “Which are on fire,” Wystan finished for him, dryly. He folded his arms, for a moment looking remarkably like his father. “And don’t do the voice.”

  Wystan hadn’t been joking about leadership running in the family. Rory cleared his throat, withdrawing that unconscious flex of alpha power as though sheathing his claws. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Honestly, you would enjoy the job. It’s a real chance to make a difference, saving not only human lives but animals and their habitats as well. And we spend weeks on end deep in the wilderness. Just the squads. No other people around for miles. Come and try it out, at least. Just for one season.”

  “Hmmm.” Rory could tell that Wystan was tempted, despite his self-doubt. The other shifter rubbed his chin. “Even if I say yes…you hotshots are meant to be elites. I haven’t even worked on an engine crew. Why would your superintendent agree to hire a rookie?”

  “Are you kidding? With your qualifications? I already talked to him, and he’s as eager to have you as I am. We always need good paramedics.”

  Wystan’s shoulders tensed. “Then you need my father. Not me.”

  “You are a good paramedic,” Rory said firmly. “And I’m not going to let you abandon all your training just because you didn’t meet your own impossible expectations. You can’t keep measuring yourself against your dad, Wys. Nobody can do what he does.”

  “But I should be able to.” Wystan rubbed his forehead absently, a brief, habitual gesture that made Rory’s heart hurt for his friend. “You said your superintendent knows about shifters. Did you tell him about…me?”

  “He knows what you are.” Deliberately, Rory put his hand on Wystan’s shoulder. The unicorn shifter stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “And he knows you aren’t…like your dad. That’s a strength, Wys. Not a weakness. At least you don’t get crippling headaches around non-virgins.”

  “You sound like my parents. They think my pathetic animal is a blessing in disguise too.” Wystan let out a long sigh. “Well, as long as you’re not counting on me actually being able to heal anyone…I’m in.”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” The Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne, Crown Prince of the Sea—more commonly known as Joe—leaned back in his seat. He ticked off items on his dark, elegant hands as he spoke. “Glorious untouched forests and sweeping, breathtaking mountains. A close, elite band of brothers, isolated and alone, totally reliant on each other in the wilderness. Honor and glory, protecting both humanity and Mother Nature from devastating elemental forces.”

  “I don’t think I was quite that poetic,” Rory said, raising an eyebrow. “But that about sums it up.”


  Joe stared at him as if he’d invited him on a delightful tour of the local sewers. “And you think I would be interested…why?”

  “I told you so,” Wystan murmured to Rory. “You should have opened with, ‘Chicks dig firefighters.’”

  “My bro, the last thing I need is to become even more attractive to women.” Joe waved at himself, encompassing everything from his curling blue-black hair to the slim-cut silk shirt that clung to his lean, hard torso. “All this, and royalty too? If I add ‘firefighter’ to my excessively long…list of sterling qualities, I’m going to get crushed to death by a hormonal mob.”

  Rory opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by his twin coming up to their corner booth. Ross had a pint of beer in one hand, a shotglass in the other, and an expression of resigned disgust.

  “The beer’s from the blonde lioness over there,” he said, plunking the drinks down in front of Joe. “The whiskey is from her red-headed vixen friend. Apparently whichever one you drink first indicates who gets to take you home tonight.”

  As one, the three men leaned forward, peering round Ross’s stocky form. At the bar, two women whispered, eying their table avidly. There was something remarkably predatory about their expressions, like cats staring at a bird feeder through a window. Rory would not have been surprised if they’d started wiggling their butts in the air.

  Joe, for his part, seemed to have no objection to being stalked. Flashing a roguish grin, he gave the two a little wave. The pair waved back, fighting down giggles.

  “I hate your life,” Ross informed the sea dragon prince.

  “Console yourself with the thought of how much your profits go up every time I’m here,” Joe replied. “Honestly, I should start charging you a commission.”

  “Does this happen a lot?” Rory asked Wystan.

  The unicorn shifter let out a long-suffering sigh. “You have no idea.”

  Joe looked thoughtfully at the women at the bar, then contemplated the drinks in front of him. “Hmmm. Decisions, decisions…”

  With a flourish, he picked up the shot glass. The red-head clutched her friend’s arm so hard, they both nearly fell off their bar stools. Joe saluted her with the glass…and then dropped the whole thing into the beer.

  Ross drew in a sharp breath, muscles bunching in outrage. Joe was already lifting the concoction. Never breaking eye-contact with the women, he drained it in long, smooth swallows.

  Rory glanced back at the women. They…did not appear to regard the sea dragon’s wordless suggestion at all disfavorably.

  He shook his head, caught somewhere between amusement and aggravation. “How do you do that?”

  “With panache.” Joe set the empty glass back down on the table. “Thanks for the offer, Rory, but I believe I have just received a better one.”

  “You.” Ross barely seemed able to get words out through his clenched teeth. “Shot bombed. My beer.”

  “In the pursuit of love, no sacrifice is too great,” Joe declaimed. He patted Ross’s rigid arm, which proved that he was either extraordinarily brave or remarkably stupid. “Now if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”

  A shadow fell over the table. They all looked up into the impassive face of John Doe.

  Joe sank back into his seat, grimacing. “Or, apparently, duty wants me to stay exactly where I am.”

  “Forgive the intrusion, but I could not help overhearing.” John’s indigo gaze switched from Joe to Rory. “You offer my son a place of honor at your side?”

  “Well, he’d have to get through a few months of fire academy first, sir, but he should be able to pass that with ease,” Rory said. He flung Joe a meaningful look. “If he actually tries.”

  “I try things,” Joe protested. “I am famed for trying things.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘infamous’,” Wystan murmured.

  “You do indeed try things.” John folded his massive arms, light flashing from his bracers. “There was your time with the Seers. Then you decided you had a passion for Smithing, which, if I recall, lasted approximately six months. After that it was the Poets, the Dancers, the Pearl-workers, and a succession of foreign exchange visits with half a dozen different sea-shifter nations.”

  “Those were educational.” Joe let out a wistful sigh, gazing at some fond memory. “In the case of the selkies, extremely educational.”

  John’s fingers tapped against his armored forearm, snapping his son out of his reverie. “You have dabbled in practically every art under the sea, and none have kept your attention for more than a year. The Pearl Emperor-“

  “-Must be devoted to his people,” Joe finished with him, in the weary tones of someone who had heard this lecture a thousand times already. “Strong-willed but subtle, serving with unswerving dedication. But I’m not going to be the Pearl Emperor for a very long time. At least, I sincerely hope I’m not.”

  “As do we all,” John said, a touch dryly. “But you are the Emperor-in-Waiting. Enough flitting. It is time to prove yourself.”

  Joe stared at his father, his walnut skin going a little gray. “Are you actually serious about this? You want me to be a firefighter?”

  “If you prefer, you may join the novices entering their first year of knightly training.” John’s blue eyes glinted. “With your little sister.”

  Smirking, Rory clapped Joe on the shoulder. “Welcome to the squad.”

  Rory’s next target was simultaneously the easiest to find, and the hardest.

  Spotting a telltale shock of copper-red hair through the crowd was the easy part. Rory narrowed his eyes, staring at the back of the man’s head. He had a one in three chance of getting this right…

  As if sensing his scrutiny, the man turned. His mouth curved in an easy, brilliant smile.

  Well, that improved the odds to fifty-fifty. “Connor?” Rory guessed.

  The pegasus shifter flung up both arms in triumph. “Ten points!” he declaimed to the room in general.

  Rory groaned. “Conleth, why the hell can’t you three get different haircuts?”

  “Ah now, where would be the fun in that?” Even though they’d all grown up together in Brighton, Conleth’s voice held a faint lilt of an Irish accent. He’d inherited his father’s lanky build and boundless energy too, though his red hair and sparkling green eyes were all Connie. “And now I’m ahead of Connor. It’s double points for fooling a griffin shifter.”

  Rory shook his head, but accepted Conleth’s enthusiastic hug of greeting. “I’ve been away too long. I used to be able to tell you three apart without thinking.”

  “Well, you only have to be able to spot bloody great forest fires, out there in the arse-end of America.” Conleth held him out at arm’s-length, grin widening. “No wonder your eyesight is atrophying. You were looking for Connor?”

  “Cal, actually.” Rory glanced around the pub. “He is here, right?”

  “Oh, he’ll have found somewhere to lurk and scowl disapprovingly. Hang on, I’ll get him for you.” Conleth tilted his head, his eyes going vague for a moment.

  Rory concentrated, but could only catch the edges of the pegasus shifters’ mental conversation, like overhearing voices three rooms away. It generally took close familiarity to be able to talk telepathically to another mythic shifter when out of eyeshot. He had been away too long.

  “He says he’ll join us in a moment,” Conleth reported. His mouth quirked. “And he said to tell you that he’s in uniform, so you can be sure to recognize him.”

  Sure enough, the tall, red-headed figure that stepped out of the crowd a few minutes later wore charcoal-gray dress slacks and shirt, the insignia of the East Sussex Fire & Rescue Service embroidered on his sleeve. Even without that clue, Rory wouldn’t have mistaken him for either of his brothers.

  Whereas Conleth slouched at ease, Callum’s back was ramrod-straight, like a soldier facing a court-martial. His face was as closed and set as his brother’s was open and affable.

  Rory had been about t
o clap him on the shoulder in greeting, but the impulse withered in the face of those cold green eyes. Rather awkwardly, he offered his hand instead. “Hey Cal. Good to see you again.”

  Callum’s chin dipped in a fractional nod. He made no move to shake his hand. “Conleth said you wished to speak with me.”

  Cal had always been reserved, compared to his brothers…but then, a full three-ring circus was quiet compared to those two. Now, he was positively glacial. All of Rory’s instincts screamed at him that something wasn’t right with his old friend.

  “I did. Do. Yes.” Concern swamped his pre-planned speech. “Cal, are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  And apparently that was all Callum had to say on that topic. Rory cast a glance at Conleth, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed that his identical brother appeared to have been replaced by a robot sometime in the past eighteen months.

  “So what’s on your mind, Rory?” Conleth said cheerfully. He draped an arm over Cal’s rigid shoulders. “Not going to try to tempt my brother away to the wilderness again, are you?”

  “Actually, yes.” With an effort, Rory hauled himself back on track. “I’m setting up an all-shifter squad…”

  Callum listened impassively as Rory went through his pitch. For all the emotion Cal showed, Rory might as well have been reciting his shopping list. In Hindi.

  “I see,” was all he said when Rory wound down.

  “I don’t know, Rory,” Conleth said. He was still leaning against his brother, which Cal was tolerating with the silent stoicism of a lamp-post. “Connor’s been bugging Cal to switch to smokejumping for months. I don’t think you’re going to persuade him to join a hotshot crew.”

  “They’re not at all the same thing.” Rory couldn’t help his lip curling a little. “We are disciplined and efficient. Those maniacs are all reckless thrill-seekers. Uh, no insult intended to Connor.”