He glanced around. Where was Puentes? The terrible wind was sweeping the pilot toward the lake of lava. Now Compton opened his chute and the wind caught it. He too disappeared into a jet of white smoke and steam.
Belovitch was beside Rafael, and then he wasn’t. The gale force wind had taken him. Rafael could feel the heat and fury. He recognized the peril. Was he going to die in the magma flow or risk becoming a phoenix with mortals around?
His body made the decision for him. In the blink of an eye he was in full phoenix. His great wings spread against the powerful updraft. Up he rose. He angled sideways to safety. Where was Belovitch? Heading into the volcanic blast. Grover Cleveland.
He took control of the air currents and zipped after Belovitch. He couldn’t save Compton or Puentes. There was simply no time. But he could rescue Belovitch.
Unfortunately, despite the G-forces, the corporal was not unconscious. He struggled when he found himself in the grasp of giant talons. Belovitch was a great bull of a man. Built like a concrete pylon. His writhing succeeded in loosening Rafael’s grasp.
Despite his parachute, as soon as he got free, Belovitch plummeted toward the magma, driven by the gusting blasts. Rafael dove after him. Fortunately the volcanic fumes that his phoenix found so invigorating at last knocked Belovitch senseless. Unfortunately a burst of steam sprayed liquid lava over the pair of them.
Rafael reeled in the air. He held onto his flaming burden and headed for the trees on a distant slope where the glint of water promised safety. Between his heavy burden and the wind and flying rock it was difficult to maintain his course. A ball of burning rock crashed against his skull. It was followed by a rain of molten glass.
He barely made it to the cool, life-saving water. He dropped Belovitch into it, and glided after him. The water closed over his head in blessed relief. For the first time in his life, Rafael was glad to be free of fire.
CHAPTER FIVE
Four years later,
Mystic Bay,
Island of West Haven, Oregon
Samantha~
“I shouldn’t worry.” Claudia Peterson Rutherford reached over and patted Samantha’s hand comfortingly. “Carmody is way better behaved than my Jimmy. Better behaved than most of Jimmy’s cousins too. And nine-tenths of the kids in daycare as well.”
Claudia and Samantha had been friends all their lives. She was the one other person on West Haven who knew that Carmody was a hunter-unicorn hybrid. Claudia was a sorcerer who had married a cougar*. Claudia knew firsthand about the West Haven prejudices against hybrids. Her son Jimmy was also a hybrid, and rumored to possess an extraordinary degree of paranormal talent.
“And do the Rutherfords grow up, well, normal?” Samantha persisted, despite her friend’s reassurance. Unicorns are always calm. Her constant anxiety was wrong on so many levels.
“Normal?” Claudia laughed. “Nothing normal about mountain lions. But if you mean, do they grow up to exchange their childish pranks for violence and criminal mischief? Nope. Quite the contrary.”
“Oh.” That sounded hopeful.
“You know that Ryan was a Marine,” Claudia said proudly. Ryan was her husband. “Most Rutherfords do their military service. They channel their athleticism and hunting talents into serving their country. Not into antisocial activities.”
Which sounded exactly like the D’Angelos. Every one. Perhaps Samantha was worrying for nothing. Right now, Carmody and Jimmy were charging around the Rutherfords’ huge back yard playing on an elaborate wooden climbing frame. Carmody was a little younger than Jimmy, but she was keeping up with his mad dash. Unicorn foals were supposed to be docile and sedate. Carmody had not read the manual.
There was a thin wail from the bassinet beside Claudia. Little Jocelyn was awake. “May I hold her?” asked Samantha.
Claudia passed her daughter over. The baby’s sweet newborn smell was immensely comforting. But Samantha knew Jocelyn was as much a sorcerer-cougar hybrid as her brother. “Do you ever worry about her future on West Haven?” Samantha asked.
Claudia chuckled. “The Mystic Bay town council knows better than to target our kids. Ryan and his family would yank the funding for that new high school gym and swimming pool in a heartbeat. Besides, those dimwits have this wacko idea that the Rutherford clan provides our kids with a stability they lacked when I was just a single mom.” She rolled her eyes.
Claudia and Ryan had been estranged for four years. Samantha had heard the rumors that the town council had been poised to vote her friend and Jimmy off the island. Ryan had shown up and reconciled with his wife in the nick of time. His presence had prevented their exile.
Theoretically all sensitives were welcome in Mystic Bay. Unfortunately, hunters such as cougars or phoenixes were considered a risk. After all they transformed into beasts of prey.
“You know what really annoys me?” Claudia continued.
“Hmm?”
“We all studied West Haven history in school. Learned all about how the Fairchilds came here and established a community for folks with para-sensitivities. And how they forged an alliance with the Old Forest and the wood spirits.” Claudia reached for her glass of soda water and sipped. “We were taken to see that statue of Percival Fairchild outside the courthouse about a zillion times.”
“I was there,” Samantha said. They had learned West Haven history from kindergarten through to twelfth grade.
“Yeah,” Claudia said, “But did you ever wonder why they skimmed right over the part about Owen Haverstock and his murderous rampage?”
Samantha shuddered. “We learned enough to give me nightmares.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Unicorns were empaths. They did not need much information in order to imagine the full story on their own.
“Oh.” Claudia shrugged. “Well, instead of telling us that a grizzly-shifter killed and ate islanders, and raised a brood of hybrid shifter kids who were just as evil, our teachers might have spent a little time talking about the coalition of hunters that fixed the problem.”
Claudia was correct. If it hadn’t been for Cuthbert Rutherford, Archibald Drake, and the other hunters forming a militia, the Haverstocks would have wiped out everyone on the island.
“I guess I always knew that cougars, dragons, bears and other hunters had teamed up to bring the Haverstocks to justice,” Samantha said. “But I still don’t know many details.”
Claudia pounced. “That’s what I mean. I have nothing but the greatest reverence for the Old Forest, it’s one of the treasures of West Haven. But it wasn’t the trees and dryads that took out Owen and his fairy bride.”
“Fairy bride?” Samantha raised her eyebrows and cuddled little Jocelyn closer.
Claudia lowered her voice, even though they were alone. Old habits died hard. “Yeah, Ryan’s family organized the militia that tracked down the Haverstocks. Ryan’s multi-great-grandfather Cuthbert kept records. Owen stole a fairy woman named Olivia Fairchild – not his first abduction nor his last – but he kept her. Apparently they were soul mates.”
“A fairy?” Samantha was equal parts horrified and dumbfounded.
“Yeah. Apparently Olivia never was anyone’s favorite fairy. Had a bad reputation before Owen took her. She was suspected of the usual sort of malicious black magic: curdling the milk, leading cattle into swamps, muddying the laundry.”
“Really? A wicked fairy? On West Haven?”
“Yeah. And when Olivia and Owen started producing their murderous whelps, things got downright terrifying. People packed up and left. Particularly non-sensitives. But you know how hard it is to be paranormal in the real world.” Claudia waved a hand in a broad arc.
“Yup.” During her time in school and in the Army, Samantha had had to dye her lavender hair brown and conceal her talent. It was okay for a while, but it took its toll.
Which was why she had remained in Mystic Bay when she realized she was pregnant with Rafael’s baby. A phoenix’s baby. It was best for Carmody to grow up
not having to hide that part of herself. Still, there was always the danger that Samantha’s secret would be discovered.
Claudia waved to Jimmy, who was peeping out of a playhouse window, before she continued. “So folks coped by barricading themselves into their houses and setting up regular patrols. They hung on for years. But fishers have to go to sea, and gardens don’t weed themselves. The Haverstocks were able to prey on their neighbors for a very long time. Until the Rutherfords and the Drakes and Reynoldses hunted and killed them.”
“They killed them?” Samantha whispered, shocked.
“Yup,” Claudia said with tigerish glee. “Not much else they could have done with a gang of powerful talents. If they had taken the Haverstocks to a jail to await trial, they would have escaped before the judge could arrive. And even if they hadn’t returned to West Haven, they would have carried on someplace else. So the hunters executed them.”
Samantha’s throat tightened. “Even the children?”
“Except for two. They saved a boy and a girl, but those little kids grew up as evil as their parents. Their foster families took them out in their early teens.”
Samantha was openly shivering now. She hugged herself. “I never knew that.”
“Yeah. Not a pretty story. But it created a pretty paradise for the rest of us,” Claudia assured her. “And, no, those hunters didn’t take that episode as a license to take the law into their own hands. Afterward some of them bought land on West Haven and became regular summer visitors. Ryan’s ancestor went back to buying and selling land in Portland and everyone lived happily ever after.”
“Except for the bit where the Mystic Bay town council keeps tight control of who can and cannot buy land on West Haven,” Samantha pointed out.
“Except for that bit. Do you know that no hunter has full title to the land they bought after the Haverstock menace was eliminated?”
Samantha shook her head. “I knew that no hunter has ever been elected to the council. But I assumed they owned their land, just as my family does.”
Claudia looked grim. “Well, hunters can lose their land if the council votes to yank their title. Just as the council could vote that I was to leave Mystic Bay and not return, Ryan’s family was threatened with loss of their land out at Cat’s Head if we didn’t reconcile.”
“I knew there was talk,” Samantha said. “But surely the council couldn’t enforce exile? They don’t have that kind of authority.”
Claudia grimaced. “No real authority, but if they wanted to pull leases and generally make life difficult for the Petersons they could have done it. I would have had no choice but to take Jimmy and go to Seattle or somewhere and start over, or watch my entire family suffer.”
“I see what you mean,” Samantha said. “That’s pretty much what I’m worried about with Carmody.”
“And it’s just crazy. The hunters here in Mystic Bay are all good citizens,” Claudia said fiercely. “Just as upright as any psychic or crystal gazer. There is absolutely no reason to fear them.”
“I know.” There was a no-hunting ordinance in place on the island. Samantha had never heard of any hunter violating it. But it remained on the Mystic Bay books. Just like the fear that hybridization would produce psychopathy hung in the air.
Yet, for some unfathomable reason, while hybrid children were feared, it was assumed that if they were embedded in a responsible clan with a history of good citizenship, they would turn out fine. Whereas, if brought up just by their moms, they would go bad. It was crazy logic. Sexist. Speciesist. Nuts. And deeply unfair. And a sword hanging over Samantha’s head by the slenderest of threads. No wonder she was a nervous wreck.
She had told no one but Claudia about Rafael. Nothing except that her fiancé had died. No one, not even her parents, knew he had been a phoenix and that Carmody was a hybrid.
Would her child wind up a hunter or a trembler at puberty? Phoenix or unicorn? She feared the worst, but all she could do was put one foot in front of the other until the sword fell.
Rafael was dead. She was on her own. From the moment news of his death had come, she had been essentially alone. How could she have approached his grieving family with some crazy tale of a secret engagement? One day she would have to pull herself together and tell the D’Angelo clan about Rafael’s child. One day.
One day when she was stronger and better able to cope with the threat of having people in Mystic Bay discover her secret. She would have to tell the D’Angelos about Carmody. Should have done it already. Keeping her from them was selfish. A unicorn is never selfish. She carried guilt like a ten-ton boulder.
But even thinking about her dead lover felt like taking a razor to her soul. She had to push her grief and guilt down deep and carry on. Carmody needed her. One step at a time. One day at a time. A unicorn is steadfast.
The baby in her arms squirmed and squawked, returning her to the Rutherford’s spacious backyard. Samantha held Jocelyn out to her mother.
*Cherished by the Cougar
CHAPTER SIX
Portland, Oregon
Rafael~
“You needn’t think I don’t know why you’re here,” Rafael grumbled.
His cousin, Maj. Frankie D’Angelo-Reynolds, chuckled. Her armchair creaked as she adjusted her weight. “Of course you do. But when Aunt Lois* gives me a direct order, it’s easier to obey.”
“Grandma sent you?” he blurted. His grandmother was a formidable woman, he couldn’t be surprised that Cousin Frankie, who bowed to nothing and no one, bowed to her great-aunt.
Frankie gave an amused yet resigned huff. “Well, sure. Did you imagine you could skip my wedding and Grant’s* without the family noticing? My orders are to sort you out pronto, and get you flying straight.”
“What the heck can you do that my doctors haven’t?” he snarled.
“Aunt Lois told me to heal you with my mystical phoenix powers,” Frankie said gravely. She spoiled her pronouncement with another cynical snort of amusement.
He laughed unwillingly. “What mystical healing powers? It’s your twin who is the doctor.” No one knew better than he did that phoenixes possessed no mystical healing powers. If they had, he would have cured himself. After all, once he had been a pretty fair doctor.
“Eleanor is an orthopedic specialist. If you need a prosthesis, she’s your gal*. I, on the other hand, intend to specialize in psychiatry. Aunt Lois wants me to practice on you.”
“In between flying test aircraft?” he asked. “The last I heard, you and that bear shifter you married were both in Florida testing experimental aircraft and working on repopulating the state with baby phoenixes.”
“Madison was our first, but hopefully, not our last,” she said happily. “And Cameron is both phoenix and bear.”
“Congratulations,” he muttered. He knew he should be happy that Frankie and Cam Reynolds had a daughter, but it hurt that he would never have a child. It was hard to keep from resenting their happiness.
“So what about your careers?” he asked, although he didn’t give a flying fork.
“Cameron is working for Lincoln. Opened up a Florida branch of D’Angelo Protective Services I started med school last fall.” Frankie paused. “As you would know, if you hadn’t spent the last three years hiding from life. Blindness is no excuse for becoming a hermit. You shouldn’t be skipping weddings and family gatherings.”
Much she knew about it.
“Anyway I don’t need to be a qualified psychiatrist to know that sitting alone in the dark is no way for a phoenix to get well.” There was urgency in Frankie’s voice but it didn’t really penetrate his apathy.
“The light hurts my eyes.”
“You’re blind, cousin. What do you mean it hurts? When was the last time you were outdoors?”
He shrugged. “My doctors can’t explain the light sensitivity. They think maybe it’s related to the optic nerve damage.” Which was caused by the blow to his head. “And for your information, I went for a walk yesterday after sundow
n.” With his danged cane. In the rooftop garden where there was a railing to prevent him from walking into space.
She was silent for several minutes. But he had had enough therapy over the last four years that he didn’t fall into the trap of filling the awkward quiet with information he would rather withhold.
“May I look at your drugs?” she asked eventually.
“No.”
Frankie gave another snort. This one less genteel. “Well, I can tell you without looking at them, that the instability in your aura is due to drugs, not to brain damage. Not with that pattern. And not after four years. Shifters usually respond poorly to drugs. Phoenixes have particularly delicate systems. Yours is clean out of whack, Rafael. And, I would say, getting worse.”
“That would be doctor talk for ‘You’re crazy’?” he sneered. “For your information, I’ve been diagnosed with psychosis brought on by PTSD.”
“I don’t question that the helicopter crash was traumatic. Or that a month in the jungle was harrowing, Rafe. But your psychosis is caused by taking psychotropics.” Frankie leaned forward. Her voice became serious. “You have to get off them. Get your feathery, paranormal ass in the air and let your phoenix powers heal you.”
Millard Fillmore. Fricking flying blind. Now there was a brilliant idea. Not. He spoke through his teeth. “For your information, Maj. D’Angelo, those meds are all that stand between me and acting on my impulse to take your head off with my bare hands. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not risk a permanent stay in a mental health facility, or a prison. And I’m not crazy enough yet to fly without instruments.”
“Well, I did my best.” Her voice came from over his head. She was leaving. “I have to get going, Rafe. My flight home leaves in two hours.”
Abruptly he did not want her to go. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his precious talisman. A few weeks earlier, he had found the little bag in the pocket of some pants. He tipped the contents onto his palm.
Fated for the Phoenix: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 5) Page 3
