by Zoe Chant
“So Uncegila would just wait until he went away, and start popping them out again the moment his back was turned. Crap. So much for that idea.” Blaise frowned. “You said some of the horned serpents must be getting past your guard, but I don’t see how that helps Uncegila. You can still find them once they’re out, right?”
“To an extent. I can sense when they jump hosts, though it’s…” He searched for the right analogy. “It’s like fireflies at twilight. A brief flash that gives away their location at that moment. I’ve been watching out for that, but I haven’t seen more than the occasional glimmer right after they’ve spawned.”
“Guess any serpents that escape must be grabbing the first animal they can find, and going to ground. Darcy says there haven’t been any reports of missing people. So there’s one piece of good news for you, at least.”
“I’d feel better about it if it made any sense. The horned serpents feed on the life force of their hosts, and they’re never sated. Normally, they drain their victims as fast as possible and move on, driven by their eternal hunger. That’s why the Thunderbirds had to banish them from the waking world in the first place. Uncegila is forcing her children to act against their own nature. She must have a plan, one that I’m not seeing. I’m worried for your safety.”
Blaise shrugged. “I think we can handle an army of chickadees and bunnies. Well, maybe not Rory, based on past evidence.”
“I’m serious, Blaise. I’m terrified she’s going to come after you.”
“Nah, Uncegila’s too smart to waste her time.” Despite her flippant words, Blaise’s tone was bleak. “It’s pretty obvious I’m no threat to her.”
Her animal made a low, lonely sound, like a solitary crow in a winter sky. His heart twisted. Even with the mate bond twisted and shattered, he could feel her pain.
All he could do was hold her, in this shadowy, unreal world. He dropped his head, hiding his face in her short, dense curls.
“I hate this,” he said savagely, throat tight and burning. “I hate that I can’t come back to you, that I wasn’t strong enough to hold on. I hate that I can’t control the Thunderbird, that I’m destroying people’s homes. That I’m putting you in danger.”
“Hey.” Her hands tightened on his back. “None of this is your fault, Zeph. Sometimes forests just have to burn. Every wildland firefighter knows that.”
“It’s not just the wildfires that I’m worried about, though they’re bad enough. I still think Uncegila may come after you and the others. For revenge, if nothing else.”
“We’ve fought the horned serpents before, and lived to tell the tale.” She kissed the hollow of his throat. “Besides, it’s not like they can possess any of us. We’re all mated.”
The ghost of the mate bond glimmered in his heart. He closed his eyes, listening to that whisper-faint beat. Trying to memorize it, so that he could find it again, even in the middle of the storm.
Knowing that he wouldn’t.
“I don’t think you can count on me to protect you,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry about me.” With a last squeeze, she released him, stepping back. “Wystan may not be able to ward the entire base with so many people coming and going, but he’s protected my cabin. Not that I’m actually there much these days. But when we’re out on the line, he’s right there with me, ready to fling up a shield at the first hint of trouble. If Uncegila does try anything, I’ve got the whole squad at my back.”
That fact was the only true comfort he had, in the heart of the storm. He knew that the squad would protect his mate. Even from himself.
“Just be careful,” he said. “How is everyone?”
“Tired. Hungry. Badly in need of a shower.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Pretty much standard, for fire season. And hey, our overtime is going to be epic this year. I might put down a payment on a house.”
She was trying to make him feel better. He appreciated the effort, even though it only added to his guilt.
“And my uncle?” he asked.
Blaise’s forced grin faded. “Working a lot, and not talking. You still haven’t been able to reach him?”
He shook his head. “I can only find you. The Thunderbird’s storms drown out everything else. Whatever Uncegila is doing, the Thunderbird doesn’t like it. I’ve never known it to be so agitated.”
Even as he spoke, a slight breeze plucked at his clothes, like a child demanding attention. Thunder rumbled, low and distant. Blaise’s phoenix called out again, louder, lightless eyes searching the smoke-shrouded sky.
He caught her hands, pulling her in for one last kiss. She pressed against him, mouth fierce and desperate.
All too soon, he had to release her, forced back by the rising wind. Smoke rolled in slow, heavy drifts between them, untouched by the gale whipping through his hair.
“I have to go,” he said, raising his voice over another peal of thunder.
Lightning flashed, whiting out the world. Blaise didn’t flinch. Her phoenix spread its wings over her, dead wood splintering under its claws. Her lips moved, but the wind snatched her words away.
It didn’t matter. He knew what she’d said.
Come back to me.
He wanted to tell her he would. That they would meet again, and not just in dreams. That one day the wind would drop, and he would be able to find his way home.
But he’d never lied to her.
The storm closed over him. Thunder echoed through his mind, wiping out all thought.
Corruption. Sickness. Wrong.
It all had to burn. Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass. Nothing else mattered.
The Thunderbird spread its wings. As it circled away, a high, plaintive cry followed it into the sky.
It didn’t look back.
Chapter 30
Blaise was concentrating so hard on stripping down the chainsaw, she wasn’t aware of her father’s presence until he spoke.
“I thought you were under strict instructions to rest,” he said, right in her ear.
“Shit!” Blaise jumped, nearly spilling bar oil across the storeroom. She caught the bottle just in time. “Gee, thanks, Dad. And here I was just thinking my afternoon wouldn’t be complete without a heart attack.”
“Apologies.” He came round into view, soundless over the creaky floorboards. “I’m not used to being able to sneak up on you.”
There was a time when she would have felt his presence like a fire at her back. Now, her animal sat in her chest like an ice sculpture, not so much as twitching a feather at the Phoenix’s proximity.
She bent back to her work, running her fingers along the edge of the saw bar to check for burrs. “Mom said you went up to the Pine Ridge fire. Did you manage to contain it?”
Ash sat down on a storage crate, straight-backed. Despite his composed posture, she could see the tiredness around his eyes. Black burn marks from wind-blown embers marred his white button-down shirt.
“No.” Her father absently brushed at a streak of ash on his dress pants, only succeeding in smearing it further across the gray fabric. “I managed to divert the front away from the town itself, but the surrounding areas are still at risk.”
Blaise cast him a sidelong look. “In which case—and don’t take this the wrong way—what are you doing here?”
“The crews in the area are quite capable of handling the fire without my covert assistance, and your mother informed me that you and your crew would only be back for a few days. I thought I had best come see you while I could.” He raised one eyebrow at her. “Though I had expected to find you at your cabin. Resting.”
“Dad, you literally lived at the fire station for over a decade. I don’t think you can criticize my work-life balance.”
He tilted his head, conceding the point. “We all deal with things in our own ways. Some of us, perhaps, less well than others. In this, I fear I have not set you a terribly good example.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to cut myself
off from everyone and become an enigmatic recluse.” Blaise found a rough spot on the saw bar where the chain had scratched the metal. She started filing it down. “But if I don’t wear myself out, I can’t sleep.”
“Ah.” Her father was silent for a moment, watching the movement of the file. “Have you seen Zephyr recently?”
She nodded, keeping her eyes on her work. “Last night.”
“No change, I take it.”
Screeeeeee went the file across metal. Blaise set her teeth and kept scrubbing at the burr.
“No,” she said, unable to keep a bitter edge out of her voice. “Nothing’s changed. He fights his way back, and we get a few moments together, and then he’s ripped away again. I’m not strong enough to hold him. If—”
She clamped her lips shut on the terrible thought. Her father completed it for her anyway.
“If you were the Phoenix,” he said softly, “perhaps it would be different.”
Blaise flinched. “I didn’t mean—even if I could, I would never—”
“I know.” He looked down at his loosely clasped hands. “It is selfish of me, but I am glad that you removed that option. Not because I feared for my own safety, for I knew that you would never harm anyone you loved. But I hated knowing that I was causing you pain. That you had no choice but to deny your own nature, out of love for me.”
Blaise put the chainsaw to one side. She hugged him, hard, despite her grease-covered hands.
“I’m glad you’re my father,” she said fiercely. “I’m proud to be your daughter. I wouldn’t change that. Not for anything.”
“This has gone terribly wrong,” her father murmured into her shoulder. “I came here to offer you moral support and comfort.”
“Hey, this works for me. I like being the strong one.” With a last squeeze, Blaise released him. She wrinkled her nose at the stains she’d left on his shirt. “Sorry. I should have wiped my hands first.”
“This shirt was a lost cause anyway.” Ash looked down ruefully at his ruined outfit. “I should have accepted when your Superintendent offered to lend me turn out gear.”
“Yeah, it’s never a great idea to wear business casual to a wildfire. Even when you’re fireproof.” Blaise picked up the chainsaw again, hunting around for the chain she’d stripped off earlier. “So, you just dropped by to offer moral support, huh?”
“Yes. I intended to provide you with the benefit of my great wisdom, and impart much fatherly advice. You would have been greatly uplifted and filled with renewed determination. I had a whole speech planned.”
“Really?”
“No,” her father confessed. “This may shock you, but I have been improvising for your entire life.”
Blaise grinned. “I hope you aren’t disappointed, but I figured out that you weren’t actually all-knowing by the time I was seven.”
“I am human, though not only human.” Ash eyed her. “I have many flaws, not least of which is a difficulty expressing empathy. I am not as good at this as your mother. But I do understand something of what you are going through. Perhaps even more than her.”
He knew what it was like to see your mate, but never be able to touch. He’d felt the bleeding pain of a broken mate bond. And for him, it hadn’t been a matter of weeks, or months. He’d lived like this for years.
“Does it ever get easier?” she asked him, and immediately regretted it.
He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, still and silent. She didn’t need to read the truth in his face. She already knew the answer.
She looked away, concentrating on coaxing the chain onto the saw blade. “Sorry. Stupid question.”
“I have never told you comforting lies. Not even when you were a child.” Ash rested his elbows on his knees. “I will not start now. But there are two things that I know, beyond doubt. The first is that you are stronger than me.”
Blaise cracked out a disbelieving laugh. “Dad. Be serious.”
“I am.” There was nothing but conviction in his face. “I took the easier path, though it did not feel that way at the time. You have a strength in you that I didn’t, one that has nothing to do with your animal. You will never give up, no matter how much it hurts. You will keep fighting for your mate, with every breath, for as long as it takes.”
“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her face heating. “There’s a word for people who keep trying the same thing over and over in the hope of getting different results, and it isn’t ‘strong.’ I don’t think sheer cussedness is going to solve this one, Dad.”
“Perhaps not.” His mouth curved up, very slightly. “But it will keep you going until you find a solution.”
Blaise clipped the final link into place around the saw bar. The chain moved easily now, whole and gleaming. If only it was that easy to restore her own broken connection.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I won’t give up. I can’t. But I couldn’t hold on to Zephyr even with the mate bond. How am I going to bring him back without it?”
“That is the other thing that I know.” Ash leaned forward, his intent gaze capturing hers. “Nothing can destroy the love between true mates. Not distance, or time, or storms. Not even Phoenix fire. Nothing.”
The mate bond was like shards of glass in her heart. “But it is broken. I felt it, Dad. I felt our connection snap.”
“The bond, perhaps. But that is just an expression of love, not the love itself. The fire, rather than the fuel.” He tapped her chest, right over her heart. “A fire can be extinguished, but it can also be rekindled. All it takes is a spark.”
He might have said more, but heavy footsteps cut him off. They both turned as Rory pounded up the stairs, bursting into the storeroom. Blaise expected him to yell at her for working when she was meant to be resting, but instead he just gave them both a curt, relieved nod.
“Good, you’re both here,” he said. “Leave that. We need everyone together, right now.”
Blaise shoved the chainsaw onto the closest shelf, scrambling to her feet. “What’s the emergency? Another wildfire?”
“No.” Rory’s expression was grim. “Joe’s had a vision.”
Chapter 31
“Joe,” Edith said, her forehead furrowing. “Are you sure this is what we’re supposed to be doing?”
“Absolutely.” Joe didn’t look up from arranging plates of food across the gingham picnic cloth. “This is critically important. Have a sandwich.”
“I have to say, as visions go, this is one is unusually enjoyable,” Wystan said. He was attempting to coax Estelle into taking a bottle, though she seemed more interested in watching Beth play tag with Fenrir and Callum along the lake shore. “Though I don’t expect it will stay that way for long.”
Neither did Blaise. She searched the horizon for any hint of incoming catastrophe, but drew a blank. Thunder Mountain rose serenely over the lake, reflected in the tranquil waters. Even though the peak was hidden by thin wisps of cloud, she still flinched, hastily dropping her gaze.
Still, her own discomfort aside, it seemed to be a peaceful summer afternoon. The kind of day when, in happier times—which felt like years ago—the whole squad might have gathered with their families for an impromptu picnic by the lake near Wystan and Candice’s ranch.
Which, indeed, was what they seemed to be doing.
“A motherloving demon had better show up in the next five minutes,” Buck growled, glaring at the lake as though daring it to make a move. He’d refused to sit down. “Some of us have work to do.”
“No, you don’t.” Rose handed him a cookie. “For goodness sake, stop hovering like a carrion crow, Buck. Look, even Ash is managing to relax. If this is the calm before the storm, we might as well make the most of it.”
Blaise narrowed her eyes at Joe. “I still think you invented this so-called vision as an excuse to get us all together for a party.”
Joe gave her a wounded look. “Would I do a thing like that?”
“Yes,” the rest of the squad chorused in unison.<
br />
“All right, I probably would,” Joe admitted. “If I’d thought of it. But I swear, this was a genuine vision. Sea dragon’s honor.”
“It’s true,” Seren put in. She sat cross-legged on the grass, her sheathed sword at her right hand. “He’s not faking. He saw it last night, when he was bringing me a glass of warm milk. Dropped it all over our bed.”
“Last night?” Rory cocked an eyebrow at Joe. “Why didn’t you tell us until today?”
Joe shrugged, now busy unpacking cans of soft drinks from his rucksack. “Didn’t want to wake everyone up, bro. Besides, I needed time to get everything ready.”
Diana surveyed the impressive feast. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think you’ve overdone it, Joe? Even with shifter appetites, this is way too much food.”
“Speak for yourself,” Darcy murmured, taking another slice of cake.
“I wasn’t referring to the food.” Joe checked his watch. “Any minute now…”
“Fenrir, get Beth!” Buck barked without warning. He dropped his cookie, his hand flashing to his shoulder holster. In the blink of an eye, his gun was out, leveled at the lake. “Callum, down!”
Blaise whirled to see what had alarmed him, and instead got a faceful of feathers as Rory reared up in front of her, wings spread. An instant later, Darcy cannoned into her back, knocking her down. The hellhound snarled, jaws dripping fire, standing over her protectively.
“Oops,” Joe said, sounding rather muffled. “On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to make this a surprise.”
Blaise peered between Rory’s mismatched legs. Fenrir had tackled Beth, shielding her under his huge, furry bulk. Buck had his gun trained on a thickening plume of bubbles boiling up from the hidden depths of the lake.
