by Zoe Chant
“There you go.” Buck touched him on the shoulder, briefly. “Place had to burn. All forest does, sooner or later. Don’t blame yourself for doing what had to be done.”
Zephyr stroked Leaf’s cloud-soft fur. She leaned into his hand, eyes half closing in pleasure. His uncle had a point. But still…
“If I’d been able to control the Thunderbird, I might have been able to find another way,” he said. “I would at least have been able to talk to the unicorns, help them evacuate, before I burned the place to the ground. I’m sorry for the trauma I caused your people, Leaf, Flash. If there’s anything I can do to help now—”
“Cats on a cracker, boy, don’t go giving them ideas,” Buck snapped, as both unicorns’ ears pricked up. “These two are bad enough when the only leverage they’ve got is weaponized cuteness. Let them realize that you feel guilty about barbecuing their ancestral land, and the shameless opportunists will have you fetching snacks and braiding their tails from now until the heat-death of the universe.”
Flash let out a whinny that sounded an awful lot like a snicker.
“Anyway, enough chat.” Buck flipped his hand, shooing Flash off the bed. “Zeph needs to rest, kids. Time to break up this slumber party.”
Leaf stomped a hoof, ears flattening. She jabbed her horn at the bedside cabinet, then looked at Buck expectantly.
Buck shook his head. “Sorry, Leaf. Haven’t got time tonight.”
The baby unicorn stuck out her lower lip, looking remarkably like a petulant toddler. Her horn lit up. Zephyr blinked as the cabinet drawer slid open without anyone touching it. A book floated out, rising into the air.
“Oh no you don’t.” Buck caught the book, thrusting it back down. He leaned on the cabinet, holding the drawer shut. “I mean it, kids. No story tonight. Off you go. And no more teleporting in here without warning. Zeph doesn’t need you two popping out of nowhere and bugging him for Froot Loops.”
Leaf immediately put on a wounded puppy-dog look. She nudged her older sibling. Flash also adopted a winsome expression, big purple eyes fixing on Buck in mute appeal.
Buck returned the look stonily. “Don’t give me that. You’re motherloving magical creatures, not house pets. Go frolic in the moonbeams like nature intended.”
The unicorns managed, miraculously, to look even more tragic. Zephyr could have sworn that Leaf actually produced a single perfect, glimmering tear.
Buck held the glare for a beat longer, then sagged. “All right. You can still come round sometimes. Just not every night, okay? And don’t zap straight into the bedroom, Flash. You’re big enough to mind your manners. Put that horn to good use for once and knock on the front door next time, you hear?”
Flash huffed, but nodded. The unicorn’s horn lit up, bright enough that Zephyr reflexively shielded his eyes. When he looked again, both unicorns had vanished.
He raised an amused eyebrow at his uncle. “You read bedtime stories to baby unicorns?”
Buck flushed a little. He busied himself brushing off the bedcovers, smoothing out the dent where the unicorns had been. “Leaf sometimes has trouble getting to sleep. So Flash started bringing her round, and I’d read stuff like Journal of Modern Firefighting out loud. Tedious enough to knock anyone out. Stop smirking at me like that.”
“I’m not smirking.” Doing his best to keep a straight face, Zephyr wandered over to the bedside cabinet. “Journal of Modern Firefighting? Really?”
“I’m the Superintendent. I have to stay up to date with all the theoretical stuff, so that the crew doesn’t end up in the middle of a spectacularly non-theoretical screw-up.” Buck shook out a sleeping bag, laying it down next to the bed. “Every season I have a stack of dull as ditchwater literature to get through. Since I have to read the papers anyway, I might as well do it out loud.”
“Right.”
“Doesn’t make any difference to me whether someone’s listening or not.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
“Nothing sentimental about it.”
“I didn’t say there was.”
“Just doing my job.” Buck cleared his throat. “Which, of course, sometimes involves certain mundane activities that the rest of the crew don’t need to know about.”
“Like reading technical journals?”
Buck shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, how I choose to spend my free time is my own business.”
“Of course it is. No one could doubt your dedication to your job. I do have one question, though.”
Buck eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
Zephyr opened the drawer. He held up the book that Leaf had briefly levitated. “Exactly what wildfire containment strategies have you learned from Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Grand Galloping Gala?”
Buck groaned, covering his face with a hand. “Please don’t tell the motherloving shifters. It’s hard enough to keep them in line as it is. Can’t have them thinking I’ve gone soft.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” Suppressing a smile, Zephyr hid the book away again. “I suppose there’s no chance that I can persuade you to let me take the floor.”
“None whatsoever.” Buck kicked off his boots, stretching out on top of the sleeping bag. “I’m a hotshot. If it isn’t actively on fire, I can sleep on it.”
“I still feel guilty, kicking you out of your own bed like this.”
“Docs said someone should keep an eye on you for a few nights, just to be safe. We’ll move you into a cabin later, when you’re feeling better. Couple of them are empty, what with some of the crew wanting to live off site this season.” Buck pulled a blanket over himself. “Turn out the light, would you?”
Zeph did so, and got into bed himself. It felt unnervingly soft and yielding, like sinking into quicksand. He forced his muscles to relax, focusing on the soft, unfamiliar sounds of Buck’s breathing.
Sleep. Right. I know how to do this. You just close your eyes, and…
“You’ve either got a pea under that mattress, or you’re about to pee through it,” Buck growled from the floor. “For dog’s sake, stop spinning like a chicken on a spit.”
“Sorry. I’m having difficulty getting to sleep.”
A grunt. “Guess that’s understandable, given the coma and all.”
That wasn’t the reason, but Zephyr couldn’t explain that. Especially not to Buck.
He tried to slow his breathing. He counted heartbeats. Nothing worked. His mind stubbornly clung to consciousness, with the tenacity of a rat in a shipwreck.
“You really change your mind about joining the crew?” Buck said without warning. “You seemed pretty keen to sign up earlier. Even the motherloving shifters thought it was a good idea.”
Zephyr lay back, resting his head on a crooked arm. He stared up at the ceiling. “Not all of them.”
“Ah.” He heard the rustle of Buck sitting up. “So this is about Blaise.”
“You saw how she reacted when you mentioned the prospect.” In the darkness of the room, he saw her again; that little jerk of shock, the way her hands had clenched on her beer bottle. The brief flash of horror in her eyes, that had struck him like lightning. “She hid it well, but she wasn’t happy.”
“Well, it’s pretty clear you get her animal all hot and bothered.” There was something odd about Buck’s tone, but Zephyr couldn’t put his finger on it. “Doesn’t necessarily mean she doesn’t want you around.”
“Uncle, I tried to hit her with lightning. Multiple times.”
“Mmm. From what I’ve seen, that practically counts as foreplay for motherloving shifters.”
“Uncle Buck!”
“Just saying.”
“Not this again.” Zephyr had an intense urge to stuff his head under the pillow. “For the last time, Blaise is not secretly lusting after me. And I’m not joining the crew. I have other responsibilities. I can’t run away from them, no matter how much I might wish that… things were different.”
A long, long silence.
“That s
ounds,” Buck said at last, and there was an edge to his words, “like a man thinking about doing something really, really stupid. Like jumping off a mountain.”
Zephyr stared into the darkness, listening to the silence in his soul.
“I won’t be reckless,” he said at last. “I’ll take things slowly. I won’t take that final leap unless I have good reason to believe that the Thunderbird will catch me. But there’s no one else. I have to try.”
“What if I asked you not to?”
“You risk your life for the sake of strangers. You always have. Would you quit firefighting, if I asked?”
Buck gusted out a long, defeated sigh. “I always did see too much of myself in you. Except for the bone-headed stubbornness. That you get from your mom.”
Despite everything, Zephyr smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Hmph.” The sleeping bag rustled as Buck lay down again. “Will you promise me one thing, at least?”
“I can promise to be careful, but I can’t promise not to attempt the ritual at all. There are too many lives at stake.”
“Not that.” Buck fell silent, for so long that Zephyr wondered if he’d gone to sleep. “You said you didn’t have anyone who could call you back. That’s why you got lost, before.”
Zephyr winced, anticipating what was coming next. “You can’t be my anchor, Uncle. You’re thunderkin too, even though you’ve always rejected that side of your heritage. If you tried to hold me to this world, it would only result in us both being lost.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask. If you do ever decide to go ahead with this damn idiotic thing… talk to Blaise first, okay?”
“Blaise?” Zephyr propped himself up on one elbow, trying to make out his uncle’s profile. “Why Blaise?”
“Just… because.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that. Blaise has made it very clear how she feels. I’m not going to bother her without good reason.”
Buck muttered something that Zephyr was fairly certain wasn’t censored. “Look, you said you needed connections. Diana resisted the Thunderbird, thanks to Callum. Maybe Blaise could help you do the same thing.”
“They’re married. And have a child. Blaise doesn’t even want to talk to me.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Buck said under his breath. He cleared his throat. “You notice how all the other shifters on the crew are paired up?”
Zephyr blinked at the abrupt topic change. “Yes? So?”
“You might want to talk to them sometime. About what it was like when they met their other half. How they knew that person was the one. Their soulmate.”
“Soulmate?” Zephyr goggled at Buck’s shadowed form. “Since when do you believe in soulmates?”
Buck growled something indistinct. He rolled away, pulling his blanket over his head with an air of finality. “Never mind. Forget it. Good night, Zeph.”
“Good night.” Zephyr lay back down, eyes open, staring up into the dark. “Uncle?”
“Yeah?”
“Sleep well.”
A muffled grunt. “You too. Sweet dreams.”
Exhaustion dragged at his limbs. Sleep tugged at him, insistent and irrefutable. He took a deep breath, as though about to dive into deep water, and closed his eyes.
Clouds above. Clouds below. Nothing under his bare feet.
Silence.
A sound, more felt than heard. A deep, distant rumble.
Getting louder.
Getting closer.
Zephyr jerked awake, slamming back into his body so hard that he jack-knifed upright. He gasped, drenched in cold sweat, every muscle knotted tight.
“Zeph?” Buck said, sounding groggy. “Something wrong?”
“No,” he managed to force out. His lungs burned in his chest, as though he’d actually been breathing that thin, cold air. His feet were numb. “It’s all right, Uncle. Go back to sleep.”
“Just a dream,” Buck mumbled, voice already slurring. “It was just a dream, Zephyr. You’re home. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Yes,” he whispered, his head still ringing with the sound of thunder. “It will.”
Chapter 8
Working in wildland firefighting, you sometimes got a sense when something was about to go wrong. Little things tipped you off; a breeze picking up, or smoke haze turning a shade darker, or ashes falling just that little bit thicker. On more than one job, Blaise had found herself tossing and turning on her bedroll, unable to sleep despite bone-deep exhaustion. Several times, paying attention to that nagging subconscious whisper had saved her life.
Which was all very well, except that absolutely nothing was on fire now, and she still couldn’t get to sleep.
Blaise rolled over onto her back, glaring at the dark ceiling of her cabin room. “This is so stupid.”
Nonetheless, she got up, searching for her discarded jeans. Hot chocolate, that’s what she needed. The walk over to the crew’s shared kitchen would help to clear her head. It was late enough that everyone else should be snoring by now. No risk of running into anyone and having to endure another round of well-meaning, dumbass questions.
Her work boots were as comfortable as slippers, molded precisely to her feet by years of use. Not bothering to turn on the light, Blaise tied the laces by touch, fingers fast and sure. Soft-footed despite the heavy soles, she crept out of her cabin—and nearly ran smack into Zephyr.
He had one hand raised, as though he’d been about to knock on her door. They both froze, staring at each other.
“Crap!” Blaise leaped back as though electrocuted. “What the hell are you doing up this late? You’re supposed to be resting!”
“Every time we meet, you try to get me into bed.” Zephyr covered his face with his hand. “Please pretend I didn’t just say that.”
He looked so adorkably flustered, Blaise couldn’t help smiling. She relaxed a little, though her nerves still sang with his proximity.
“Hey, already forgotten,” she said. “Did you need something?”
He dropped his hand, fixing her with his dark, intent gaze. “Yes. Can we talk?”
“What, right now?”
Zephyr’s eyes stayed locked on hers. “Please.”
Blaise was abruptly very aware that they were four steps away from her bedroom. She also really, really wished that she’d taken the time to put on a bra.
“Uh.” She grabbed her leather jacket from the hook by the door, pulling it on despite the warm spring night. “I was gonna head to the kitchen and make some hot chocolate. You want to join me?”
He nodded, falling into step beside her. Blaise shoved her hands in her pockets, doing her best to look nonchalant, like she couldn’t feel every inch of space between their bodies.
A crescent moon rode high in a sky full of stars. To Blaise’s shifter sight, it was bright as day. It must have been a lot darker to Zephyr’s more human eyes, but he kept pace with her, soft-footed as a cat. From his utter silence, she might have wondered whether he was still following her at all… if his presence hadn’t burned against her skin.
She cleared her throat, trying to ignore her animal’s restlessness. “So, uh, couldn’t sleep?”
“Not exactly.”
“Bad dreams?”
“I don’t dream.” Zephyr’s deep, soft voice blended with the rustle of leaves. “Or rather, I haven’t. Not for a long time. That’s part of what I need to talk to you about. But I’d rather do it in the light, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Watch your step. Buck would kill me if I let you twist your ankle.”
He moved a little closer, his elbow brushing against her arm. Blaise swallowed hard.
Yep. This is fine. Totally fine. Noooooo problem.
Thankfully, her cabin was close to the main part of the base. If she’d had to go any further with Zephyr breathing right next to her, she would have been in serious danger of either shoving him against the nearest wall or sett
ing fire to her socks. As it was, Blaise was sweating under her leather jacket by the time they reached the kitchen.
She hurried to the refrigerator, welcoming the blast of cool air as she opened it. “Come on in and sit down. Cow milk okay? We’ve got soy somewhere in here, if you want that.”
“Whatever you’re having. How can I help?”
“It’s okay, I got it. You sit down.” She jerked her chin at the kitchen table, still surreptitiously cooling her hands inside the fridge. “I’ll heat up the milk.”
She hoped he didn’t notice how little time that took. Even taking care to only touch the handle of the pan, the milk was steaming gently by the time she got it to the stove. Blaise clenched her teeth together, and very carefully didn’t look at Zephyr as she whisked.
“Here you go.” She handed him a mug. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Zephyr’s gaze lingered on her hands. “How do you do that?”
Shit. With an effort, she kept her tone light. “Oh, it’s a mythic shifter thing. Most of us have weird talents. Like, Wystan makes force fields, and Cal can sense living creatures.”
“I know your animals grant you special gifts. That’s not what I meant.” He lifted his eyes, meeting hers. “How do you control it?”
His intent expression made a shiver run down her spine. She did her best not to show it, shrugging.
“Hey, it’s not like I see the future like Joe, or can order people around like Rory. I just heat stuff up sometimes.” She made an ironic flourish over her hot chocolate, like a cut-price magician pulling a bedraggled rabbit out of a hat. “As superpowers go, it’s pretty small potatoes.”
Zephyr looked down into his drink. He toyed with the mug, turning it on the table without picking it up. She tried not to notice the long, lean muscles of his bronze forearms, or the line of his throat.
