Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 19

“Ican’t sleep,” Joe said from the floor, not for the first time.

Zephyr put his arm across his face, stifling a groan. “Joe, I can’t attempt to guide your visions if you’re awake.”

“I know, I know.” Joe’s sleeping bag rustled. “This is just a lot of pressure. I think I have performance anxiety.”

Seren made a soft, amused sound from her post by the door. “That would be a first.”

“You could rub my feet,” Joe suggested. “Maybe that would help.”

“I am on duty, my prince. I must remain alert to guard your slumber.” Zephyr heard a soft clink of metal on metal as Seren shifted position. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he could picture her sitting cross-legged and straight-backed, her sword across her lap. “I wish that more of my armor still fit.”

“Remind me to call my mom in the morning. She’ll send something up from Atlantis.”

Seren’s smile showed in her tone. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as maternity armor, my love.”

“Don’t see why not. The Smiths can make stuff that adjusts from human to dragon-sized, after all. A few inches of variable plate mail should be a piece of cake in comparison.” Joe’s voice brightened with enthusiasm. “Actually, yeah, it would be dead easy. If I had a forge and a couple of ingots of shift-steel, I could do it for you myself. Just have to modify the side straps and—”

Zephyr cleared his throat, pointedly. “Is this helping anyone get to sleep?”

“Sorry, bro. Got a little carried away there.”

“I have to be asleep too, if this is to have any chance of working.” Zephyr turned over, punching the pillow to a more comfortable angle. “Close your eyes and stop talking, Joe.”

“Okay, okay. Good night, Z.”

“Good night. Again.”

Zephyr closed his own eyes. He focused on his breathing, in the same way that he would when meditating. Slowly, his muscles began to relax.

“Does anyone know any lullabies?” Joe asked.

This time Zephyr didn’t hold back his groan of frustration. “Joe!”

“Sorry. I’m having trouble getting in the mood. I swear this has never happened to me before.”

Seren stirred. “Someone comes.”

“I hope they come bearing tequila shots,” Joe mumbled. “Or at least candy. Worst slumber party ever.”

A hesitant, barely audible tap sounded on the door. “Seren? How’s it going in there?”

“It isn’t,” the shark shifter replied. “You might as well come in.”

The door cracked open, letting a pale shaft of moonlight into the blacked-out bedroom. Blaise slipped inside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Well, guess I’m not missing out on anything after all,” she said, her nose wrinkling as she surveyed the scene. “I thought you’d all be snoring by now.”

“My plan is proving to have a few flaws.” Zephyr sat up, rubbing at his eyes with a grimace. “I don’t suppose you have a copy of Journal of Modern Firefighting to hand?”

“What?”

“I’m reliably informed it’s a powerful soporific.”

“I have a leather-bound copy of LeMorte d’Arthur at home,” Seren volunteered. “I could hit you all over the head with it.”

“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Joe said. “You’ve still got your stun sword, right?”

“That’s a weapon, my prince. I am fairly certain that using it as a sleeping aid is not medically recommended.”

“At this point, I’m willing to consider all options.” Blaise nudged Joe with her foot. “All I’m managing to accomplish in my own bed is to memorize the cracks in my ceiling. Might as well join you guys here. Squeeze up.”

“Bro, there’s barely room for me down here. The only way you’re joining me is as a blanket. No offense, but you’re not my first choice for snuggles.”

“Here.” Zephyr shifted over, making space for her on the bed. “It’s probably best if we’re all in close proximity anyway. Not that I’ve ever attempted anything like this before, but it’s generally easier for me to manipulate the dreams of people who are nearby.”

Blaise hesitated for a moment, then crawled onto the bed. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she curled up on top of the sheets, keeping a careful four inches of space between them. Her spine was a tense, stiff curve.

Well, she definitely wasn’t going to sleep like that. Cautiously, Zephyr reached out, resting his fingertips between her shoulder blades. Blaise twitched, but didn’t draw away. He drew his hand down her back, lightly, like stroking a cat. She let out a soft sigh, and her taut muscles relaxed a fraction.

“Okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” She shifted position, her body fitting to his, though still not quite touching. “Keep doing that.”

He traced small, firm circles down her spine. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Mm. Don’t you dare.”

Joe’s disgruntled voice drifted up from the floor. “No one offered me back rubs.”

“Oh, for the love of the Sea.” Seren let out a sigh that was more fond than exasperated. “Very well. But if a hideous monster springs out of your dream and devours us all before I can draw my sword, I’m blaming you.”

Joe’s only response to this was a low, contented hum, like a cello purring. Zephyr kept massaging Blaise’s back in long, steady strokes, feeling her breathing slow. Even through the layers of blankets, he could feel the heat of her—but it was a banked fire, warm and comforting.

Joe’s hum deepened, shifting into a subtle melody. The notes rose and fell like gentle waves. Zephyr closed his eyes, rocked by that slow, quiet sound. As his limbs grew heavy, he brushed a soft kiss against the back of Blaise’s neck.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “See you soon.”

* * *

Not clouds, but sea.

Water pressed against him, within and without. It flowed through his lungs, his veins, his mind. He could taste salt on his tongue.

The Thunderbird had never taken him this deep before, but he knew where he was, with a seed’s blind instinct. The ocean, the true ocean, of which all seas were mere shadows.

A presence coiled round him. He held very still. There were predators here, beneath the dreams of the world.

This is not your place.

Blue-green bioluminescence shimmered down sinuous flanks. Scaled coils tightened around him. He looked up into lambent eyes. They were turquoise blue, the laughing blue of tropical seas. He knew those eyes.

You come bearing fire, where no fire has ever been.

A spark of night glimmered between his cupped hands; a tiny black flame. He kept his fingers clamped tight as the current tugged at his hair. This was not a place for any soul to be lost.

Why are you here?

Joe’s eyes, but not his voice. Not his dragon’s voice either, for all that he wore its form. A deeper power spoke through those fanged jaws; a presence that dwarfed even the mighty sea dragon. He was embedded inside it, a tiny foreign soul inside the slow, vast organism of the ocean.

Please, he tried to say, but the word came out as nothing more than a ripple in the water. He had no voice here; no power. Far above, the Thunderbird circled, but lightning couldn’t do more than touch the surface of the sea. He had put himself at the mercy of the tides, and the dragon.

He closed his eyes, centering himself, focusing on the heat warming his palms. That was why he was here; why he had ventured into this alien world. Blaise needed him, and he would not fail her.

Please, he said again, and felt the word swirl away, carried into the listening water. I need to see.

The dragon dipped its head, as though considering. Its body flowed around him, in constant motion, like the ocean itself.

The newborn salmon leaves the shallow springs, blind to the journey ahead. If it could see the long route to the sea, would it live out its life in familiar waters, stunted and afraid?

I would risk my own life gladly, he replied. But not that of others. There is too much at stake to rely on blind faith. Please. I need to see what I should do.

That cannot be known. The fish moves the water, even as the water moves the fish. The currents swirl and shift.

The coils loosened, opening. Beyond the shining scales, he glimpsed the endless depths beyond.

But most lead to the same place.

He could feel it now, an icy riptide curling around his ankles, trying to suck him down into that lightless abyss. There were fires down there, in the darkness; burning forever, without light, without warmth.

He kicked hard, fighting the hungry current. Even with all his strength, he could barely hold position. The surface was an impossible dream, far out of reach.

No. The slightest breath against his cheek; a hint of sunlight and safe harbor. There is a way. But you do not have the strength to travel it alone.

The dragon’s claws opened. Abruptly he was choking, drowning, water filling his lungs.

Look, said the voice of the ocean, as his vision faded to black. See.

* * *

Blaise blinked, squinting against bright summer sunlight. The three of them stood by a small barn, surrounded by dry, bleached grass. She could smell dust, and hay, and—weirdly—a faint salt tang of seawater. The whole scene was perfect in every detail, yet somehow it was like looking at a reflection in a still lake. She had the unsettling impression that everything might blur and ripple at any moment, breaking apart into shards of color.

“Did it work?” she asked Zephyr. His hand in hers, at least, was firm and real. “Or is this a dream?”

“Yes,” Zephyr replied, with a slight edge in his voice. Drops of water gleamed in his hair, though the rest of him was dry. “On both accounts.”

“Wow, this is wild.” Joe paid no attention to the surroundings, instead staring at her and Zeph with an expression of utter fascination. “You guys are actually here. Are you seeing me too? Can you feel this?”

Zephyr flinched away from the sea dragon’s finger. “Yes, so please stop poking me. It’s really not helping.”

Blaise squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

“For now.” He had a strained, tight look, as though battling a strong wind. “But I don’t think I can maintain this for long. Whatever we are supposed to see, we had best find it quickly.”

Blaise looked around. “Hey, isn’t this Wystan’s place? That’s definitely his house over there. But unless he and Candice have been really busy in the past six hours, this barn doesn’t exist.”

“Not yet,” Joe said. His eyes widened, fixing on something past her shoulder. “Oh. If anyone doesn’t want spoilers, look away now.”

Blaise turned to see two girls hurrying toward them—or rather, toward the barn, since neither of them showed the slightest sign of being aware of their audience. One was tall and lanky, with the coltish limbs of a child hovering on the cusp of adolescence. In comparison, the other girl seemed nothing more than a wisp of dandelion seed, so tiny and slight that a puff of wind might blow her away.

Blaise had never seen them before. But she knew their faces.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Are they—?”

“I think so.” Joe took her elbow, drawing her out of the way of the pair. “Shh.”

“They’re in the pony barn,” the older one was saying. In the golden sunlight, her curly hair glowed like molten copper. “Hurry up, Estelle.”

“You’re going too fast!” The other girl was having to practically run to keep up with her companion’s much longer legs. “It’s not my fault I’m shorter!”

The two girls hurried past, heading into the barn. Blaise exchanged glances with Zephyr and Joe, then followed along behind.

Inside, the air was cool and shady, filled with the warm scents of hay and horses. A couple of ponies poked their heads out of their stalls, letting out inquiring snorts. None of them so much as flicked an ear at Blaise or her companions.

“Sorry. No time for carrots right now,” the older girl murmured, stroking a pony’s nose as it nudged at her pocket. She raised her voice. “Finley? I brought Estelle.”

A boy emerged from a stall at the end of the row. He couldn’t have been older than eight or nine; slight and lithe, his hair braided back in cornrows. At the sight of him, Blaise swore again.

“Blaise,” Joe hissed. “Language.”

“What? It’s not like they can hear me. Joe, do you realize who that is?”

“Yes.” Joe dragged both her and Zephyr deeper into the shadows. “Shut up. I’ll explain later.”

“Thanks, Beth,” said the boy with Joe’s turquoise eyes. He turned, hunkering down, as though trying to coax some shy, wild creature from a thicket. “Rufus? Estelle’s here.”

“Was it that jerk Archie again?” Little Estelle scowled, her sharp chin jutting out. Even though she had Wystan’s pale coloring and angular features, in that moment she looked a lot more like Candice. “I swear, if I could shift yet, I’d stab him.”

“He didn’t mean to upset Rufus,” said the boy. “Archie’s not a mythic shifter. He couldn’t hear Rufus trying to explain that it was a no-talking day. He thought Rufus was ignoring him, so he got mad.”

“Yeah, well, even a giant butthead should know better than to yell in someone’s face. You’re too nice, Finley. You don’t always have to take everyone’s side, you know.” Estelle punched a fist into her palm, the aggressive slant to her shoulders belying her tiny size. “Oh, just wait until I find that poop-for-brains. He’s going to be in for a world of hurt.”

“Estelle,” Beth said reproachfully.

“What? I’ll fix him up again afterward. Mostly.”

“No fighting in camp.” Beth folded her arms, looking down at Estelle as though there were twenty years’ difference between their ages rather than two. “The rules apply to us too, you know.”

Estelle considered this. “Okay. So we lure Archie down to the lake tonight, and I’ll punch him there.”

Finley sighed. “Violence won’t solve anything. Please, Estelle. Rufus doesn’t need anyone to defend him. He’s just up in his head at the moment, and he’s having trouble coming back. This is how you can help.”

“Oh, all right,” the small silver-haired girl said, with notable lack of enthusiasm. “But just once, it would be nice if someone needed me to kick butts.”

Estelle sat down cross-legged next to the boy. A beam of sunlight fell across her delicate features, catching in her eyes; one leaf green, the other sky blue.

Straightening her spine, she closed those mismatched eyes. A faint silvery radiance outlined her slender body, like a halo of moonlight. The glow crept outward, expanding to cover the other two children as well.

Beth’s expression softened, the crease between her auburn brows smoothing. Finley took a long, quiet breath, like someone coming out of a stuffy room into fresh spring air. Even the ponies stilled, heads drooping in relaxation under the caress of that soft, glimmering light.

Finley turned, peering into the end stall. “Rufus? It’s okay. We’re here whenever you’re ready to come out.”

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Estelle sat motionless, eyes closed, radiating that calming glow. Beth stirred a couple of times, as though about to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Finley just crouched there, still and patient, waiting.

Something poked around the edge of the stall. For a moment, Blaise couldn’t make head or tail of it—a hand ax? Some kind of miniature scythe?—but then it edged further out, and she realized it was a sharp, hooked beak.

A young griffin slunk out of the shadows, belly pressed against the ground. It was all talons and huge gold eyes, its folded wings only half-fledged. Dappled spots patterned its soft flanks. Head down, tail twitching, it crept between Finley and Estelle, pressing against them both.

“There you are,” Finley said softly. Keeping his eyes averted, he stroked the griffin’s feathery neck. “That’s it. You can come back now.”

The griffin shivered. Its outline blurred, and a blond boy crouched where it had been, forehead leaning against Estelle’s shoulder. With a sigh, his stocky body relaxed.

Estelle opened her eyes, and the glow faded away. She gave the boy a quick, hard hug, rubbing her cheek against his hair. “Hi, Rufus. Better now?”

The boy didn’t say anything, but the other three children all cocked their heads as though listening. Finley nodded.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Archie’s fine. You just gave him a scare when you shifted, that’s all.”

“Serves him right,” Estelle said fiercely. “I hope you made him crap his pants, Rufus.”

The blond boy’s face was still hidden, but Blaise heard him huff out a near-silent laugh. He uncurled at last, though he kept his head bowed, eyes turned down. He was big for his age, even taller than Beth, and already broader in the shoulder.

Blaise had to swallow hard. The boy was the spitting image of Rory at the same age, though there was more of Edith in the closed, careful way he carried himself. It was so much like seeing a ghost from the past, she almost expected her own younger self to appear.

“That’s true,” Finley said, as though Rufus had made a comment. “But you look scary.”

Estelle heaved a longing sigh. “I wish I looked scary.”

“You’re already terrifying,” Beth said dryly. “Come on, Rufus. Let’s go find Uncle Zeph. We have to report this.”

Uncle Zeph?

Blaise’s breath caught. She glanced at Zephyr, and found him staring back at her, dark eyes wide.

Rufus twitched, his shaggy mane of golden hair falling across his face. He shook his head, the slightest of motions.

“Everyone knows that.” Finley bumped his shoulder against the other boy’s. “But Archie needs help. He still thinks that everyone is just like him. He needs to learn better, or he’ll become a huge problem.”

“He’s already a huge asshole,” Estelle muttered.

“Estelle!” Beth fixed the younger girl with a scandalized glare. “We have to set a good example at all times. You’ll never make junior councilor with that mouth.”

Estelle stuck out her tongue. “Like I care. You’rethe one desperate for a stupid badge.”

“We really should tell Zephyr,” Finley said to Rufus. “Look, how about if I talk to him? I don’t even have to mention you, if you don’t want me to. You’re not the first person to have issues with Archie.”

Rufus’s tense body language eased a little. He didn’t nod, but Finley smiled.

“Okay then,” he said. “Leave it with me. Don’t worry, Uncle Zeph will know how to handle this. He always does.”

“Guys!” Beth’s head snapped round. For one lurching moment Blaise thought that the girl had somehow detected them—but Beth was staring at a blank wall. “The crew’s back!”

“Really?” Estelle’s face lit up too. She scrabbled to her feet. “But they were meant to be away all week!”

“I just sensed them turning onto the track.” Delight dissolved Beth’s air of carefully cultivated maturity, making her look as young as the others. “They must have got that fire contained faster than expected.”

“Mom.” Rufus’s voice was a hoarse, rusty whisper. His face stayed still and grave, but his hands fluttered like birds’ wings; a quick, joyous flight. “Dad?”

Beth tilted her head, her green eyes unfocusing for a moment. “Yes, it’s the whole crew. They’re heading for the base.”

“Beth, find Flash!” Estelle was already darting for the door. “Let’s bribe her to teleport us up there right away. Come on, Finley!”

“You go on ahead,” the boy replied. “There’s something I need to do first. I’ll meet you there.”

The other children didn’t waste time trying to persuade him. They tumbled out of the barn in a tight pack, racing off down the path. Finley waited until their excited voices had faded away.

“It’s okay.” The boy turned, looking directly at the three of them. “You can come out now.”

Caught off guard, Blaise could only gape at him. From Zephyr’s sharp intake of breath, he hadn’t expected this either. Joe, however, was already stepping out of the shadows.

“Hi, kid,” Joe said softly.

Finley beamed, showing triangular, sharp-edged teeth. “Hi, Dad.”

At the sight of that sharkish smile, Joe broke into a wide grin as well. “You’ve got your grown-up teeth now.”

“Yes,” Finley said, with great satisfaction. “Just like Mom’s. How big am I when you are?”

Joe held up his hands, shaping a volume in the air. “Bigger than last time, but you still haven’t been born.”

Blaise stared from Finley to Joe. “You two have done this before?”

“The dream is fighting me,” Zephyr said through gritted teeth. His hand crushed Blaise’s, as though something was trying to rip her out of his grip. “Past and future aren’t supposed to cross like this. I can’t hold it for much longer.”

Finley squinted past Joe, his turquoise eyes not quite focusing on them. “There’s someone with you, dad. But I can’t make them out.”

“Blaise and Zephyr.” Joe gestured them both forward. “They came with me this time. Zephyr—uh, Uncle Zeph is guiding my dream. I don’t think I’d be here, otherwise.”

“Oh, right. That explains things.” Finley’s expression cleared, his gaze sharpening. He looked straight at Blaise. “Yes. I can see you now.”

Shifters can size each other up, she’d told Zephyr once. Now, she looked into Finley’s eyes and saw the truth behind that slight, unassuming exterior.

All the breath left her lungs. She’d only ever met three shifters with that level of raw, primal power. One was her father. The second, Joe’s mom, the Pearl Empress.

And the third…

“Hi, Aunt Blaise,” said the boy with the vast, ancient predator in his soul. He cocked his head. “You look different.”

“Yeah, well.” How the hell could her throat be dry when she wasn’t even really here? “I guess I must be older, by your time. Probably got a few more scrapes on my paintwork, so to speak.”

“No, it’s more than that.” Finley frowned, his gaze moving to Zephyr. “You look strange too, Uncle Zeph. Oh! I know what it is! You two aren’t mated yet, right?”

Her relief was so great, her vision blurred. No—the room blurred. It was as though someone had thrown a stone into a still pond, shattering a reflection. The boy and the barn and the ponies fractured into glittering fragments.

“I can’t hold it,” Zephyr gritted out as the scene rippled, colors starting to bleed away into gray. “I have to let go.”

“Just a second longer!” Blaise raised her voice, straining to make out Finley’s wavering form through the thickening fog. “Finley! When you know us, Zeph and I are mated?”

“Yes.” The boy’s voice sounded faint, like he was disappearing into the distance. “That’s how everything happens. How it has to happen.”

“Blaise!” Zephyr lurched, as though buffeted by storm winds. “This future is fragile, we can’t risk breaking it!”

“I have to know!” She held him up, desperately trying to make out Finley’s wavering form through the thickening fog. “Finley! And it all works out? I’m strong enough to control my animal?”

Just for a heartbeat, the mists cleared. Finley looked back at her from the future, his innocent, ancient eyes puzzled.

“Of course.” His fading voice followed her down, into gray, and darker gray, and black. “You’re stronger than anyone. You’re the Phoenix.”