Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 20

“What about Blaise?” Seren asked, over a morose breakfast the following morning. “Does she share your interpretation of the vision?”

“I don’t know,” Zephyr replied. He’d woken to find cold, empty space next to him in bed. “I haven’t seen her either. She must have left while the rest of us were still sleeping.”

Joe winced. “Uh-oh. That’s not a good sign.”

“Blaise has a tendency to take the pessimistic view even at the best of times,” Seren agreed. “Perhaps you should go after her, Zephyr.”

He stared down into his coffee. “I don’t think she wants to be around me right now.”

Joe opened his mouth—probably to make some encouraging remark—but had to pause as a couple of firefighters from C-squad went past their table, engrossed in their own conversation. From the snatch Zephyr overheard, they were debating which bars to hit later that night. Just regular people going about their everyday lives, blissfully untroubled by premonitions of the future. Zephyr envied them.

“Look, bro,” Joe said, when their human crew mates were safely out of earshot once more. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it does no good whatsoever to tie yourself up in knots over visions. Yeah, when I see things, it always turns out to be for a reason. But it’s almost never for the reason I think it is.”

“Sometimes the worst nightmare turns out to be a mere shadow across your path,” Seren said, her expression even more solemn than usual. “Joe was tormented for years by visions of me. But every step he took to try to evade that fate only brought us closer to that point. He was not shown the battle in order to flee from it, but so that we could both be prepared to fight.”

“I know.” Zephyr had heard the story several times, from both parties involved (Seren’s version was a lot briefer than Joe’s, and featured far fewer descriptions of shining teeth and lissome fins). “But that was different. Joe was supposed to see those visions. I forced this one, even though I was warned against trying to see the future. And now we know why.”

“Yeah, because both you and Blaise are determined to look at this through doom-tinted glasses,” Joe said firmly. “For the sake of argument, let’s say she really is the Phoenix in that possible future. Doesn’t mean it has anything to do with mating you. Or even that something’s happened to her dad. Maybe he just found a way to give her the Phoenix. He would, you know. In a heartbeat.”

Zephyr remembered how he’d felt when he’d first woken up without the Thunderbird; hollow, empty. How much worse would it be for a true shifter, to sacrifice half their soul?

“I don’t think Blaise would consider that much better,” he said. “She already feels guilty enough that he had to give up firefighting because of her. Even if he could give her his animal, she would never take it.”

“Okay, so maybe Ash finds a way to share his fire,” Joe said, undaunted. “Or Blaise, I dunno, figures it out on her own somehow. Just because there’s never been two phoenixes at the same time in the past doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen in the future.”

“Finley said the Phoenix. Not a phoenix.”

“Perhaps he misspoke.” Seren touched her baby bump, as though in apology to her unborn son. “He was—or will be—but a child, after all.”

Zephyr had been trying to persuade himself on that point, without much success. “It’s possible. But I didn’t get the impression that boy ever says anything lightly. Will ever say. Will have ever said. My head hurts.”

Joe flashed a rueful grin at him. “Welcome to my world, bro. Where the English language throws up its hands and breaks down sobbing. If it’s any consolation, the appropriate tense in sea dragon requires five-note chords and a depth of at least two miles. And even our grammar isn’t designed to cope with someone like Finley.”

Zephyr rubbed his aching temples. He hadn’t been speaking metaphorically about having a headache. Ever since he’d awoken, he’d felt a dull, gritty pain behind his eyes. Breakfast and two cups of coffee hadn’t helped. If anything, the discomfort was getting worse.

“You knew that he would be able to perceive us,” he said. “You’ve talked with him before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Joe cast a sidelong glance at Seren. “Once.”

“It’s all right, my love.” Seren rested her hand on top of Joe’s, linking her fingers through his. She looked across the table at Zephyr. “It was after I discovered that I was pregnant. It wasn’t planned, you see.”

“Not to get too graphic, but sea dragons don’t usually have to worry about contraception,” Joe put in. “In fact, we normally have a hard time reproducing at all. It had never occurred to me that the human side of my family might have thrown a monkey wrench into that particular bit of genetics.”

“My feelings were… mixed,” Seren continued. “I didn’t know if I was ready to be a mother. I was frightened that we were making a mistake. So I asked Joe to try to look ahead.”

Zephyr looked at Joe in surprise. “I thought you couldn’t control your visions.”

Joe shrugged. “I can’t, normally. But Seren needed me to do this for her. So I did.”

“And you saw Finley?”

“Yeah. Not at Wystan’s ranch, though. This was down in Atlantis, at the Imperial Palace, and he was younger.” Joe held out a hand, indicating a height a head shorter than the child Zephyr had seen in the vision. “Five, maybe six years old, I guess. It was his bedtime, and I was pretending to wrestle him away from Seren while he giggled and clung on to her.”

“Wait,” Zephyr said. “She could see you too?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. Normally when I have a vision, I’m…” Joe seemed to search for words for a moment. “Doubled over myself, as it were. Inhabiting my future self, living out something that will happen later. Or that shouldn’t happen, as the case may be. Does that make sense?”

“As much as any of this does,” Zephyr said wryly. “Go on.”

“Right. Anyway, Seren was laughing too, telling Finley that the faster he went to sleep, the sooner morning would come. They were going on a trip together, see, just the two of them, now that he was big enough to properly control his shifting. He was so excited about it. He kept peppering her with questions about how deep they were going and what they were going to see and the kinds of fish they would hunt.” Joe chuckled. “Eventually Seren kissed him goodnight and told him firmly that if he said one more word, she was going to duct tape his mouth shut, and then he’d have to spoon his breakfast into his ears.”

“A threat that is already frequently made in this family,” Seren murmured. “With, apparently, as little effect.”

“Eventually I managed to drag him off to bed. I tucked him in, and made some joke about not forgetting to pack his toothbrush.” Joe’s smile lit up his face. “Sea, the look he gave me. You’d have thought he was closer to being a teenager than a toddler. He loftily informed me not to be silly, they weren’t packing anything. Then he went quiet for a moment. He asked if I was sad that I couldn’t come. And I hugged him, and said that he should know all the ocean, not just the bits that sea dragons could reach. That this was part of his heritage. And that it made Mommy happy to share those experiences with him, which made me happy too. That I was glad they had such a special connection.”

Seren’s gray eyes were bright. She held her mate’s hand, the other spread over her unborn son.

“He nodded and hugged me back.” Joe’s voice softened. It was exactly how he’d sounded while talking to Finley; the same quiet wonder. “Then he looked straight into my eyes. He said, we have a special connection too, Daddy. Tell Mommy it’s okay to be afraid when you’re facing a new adventure. Tell her that’s what she’ll tell me, later. You should go back now. And I woke up.”

Zephyr breathed out. “What is he?”

“Unique,” Seren said, simply.

Joe nodded in agreement. “I think he’s got the opposite of my own gift. And if he really does see into the past, then there’s never been anyone like him. Not in all sea dragon history.” He smiled, his eyes shining with pride. “Then again, he’s not a sea dragon.”

“Born in times of great change,” Seren murmured, sounding like she was quoting a piece of scripture. “To unite, and lead.”

Zephyr thought again of Finley’s deep turquoise gaze; so similar to Joe’s, and yet so different. “He reminded me of Blaise.”

“Huh. I never made that connection before, but you’re right.” Joe gave a theatrical shudder. “Yikes. Let’s hope he doesn’t end up determined to pretend his animal doesn’t exist.”

“It will be our task to make sure that he does not,” Seren said firmly. She looked down at her baby bump. “To help him grow into who he is meant to be. And to give him the space to just be a child. No matter his gifts, or his destiny.”

Destiny.The word resonated somewhere deep within his soul, like an echo of distant thunder. He knew, without a doubt, that Finley was important. All of those children were important. They were more than the future. They were the best of all possible futures.

But to get to that future…

That’s how it happens, Finley had said. That’s how it has to happen.

“Joe.” His hands felt cold, despite the warm mug between them. “In that future, Blaise and I were mated. How much would change if we weren’t?”

Joe didn’t answer right away. The sea dragon stared into his own coffee for several heartbeats, motionless.

“Maybe nothing,” Joe said at last. He looked up again, his mouth a flat, unhappy line. “Maybe everything. I don’t know. I can’t see anything at all.”

* * *

Blaise was sitting on a log by the creek, throwing pebbles into the water and trying not to think about anything at all, when a shadow fell across her.

“Felt trouble down the pack bond,” Fenrir said from behind her. “Came to find out what was wrong.”

Blaise tossed another rock into the murmuring stream, without looking round. “I don’t really feel like talking right now, Fenrir.”

Fenrir made a rumbling sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His shadow retreated, and for a moment she thought he’d taken her at her word and left.

Then a cool, moist nose nudged at her elbow. Fenrir pushed his head under her arm. Not the giant, smoking muzzle of his hellhound form, but a different shape; smaller, softer, and achingly familiar.

*Sometimes words aren’t needed,*that gentle, growling voice said in her mind. *Not between pack.*

Her breath caught. Just like she had in his dream, she hugged him. But this time, she could feel his hot, panting breath on her cheek; the furnace warmth of his great heart beating against hers.

Blaise scrunched her eyes shut. “I didn’t think you could shift to your wolf form anymore.”

*Didn’t have need, for a while.*His broad head pressed against hers. He smelled of dog and loyalty. *But do now.*

Fenrir didn’t ask questions, or offer advice. He didn’t try to reassure her that everything would be all right in the end. He just sat there, silent and steady, as her tears soaked through his fur.

She released him at last, swiping her sleeve across her eyes. “Thanks.”

Fenrir licked her cheek. *Is what pack does.*

“Yeah, I know. But thank you anyway.”

Blaise scratched behind his ear, finding the good spot. Fenrir’s tail thumped against the ground, his eyes half-closing in canine bliss.

“Must be nice, being a wolf,” she said wistfully. “Living in the present, not worrying about anything other than finding your next meal. Do you ever miss it?”

Fenrir’s head tilted in consideration. *No. Had to make self too small, to be only wolf. Had to bury too much. Couldn’t live like that again. Not now.*

Somewhere inside her soul, her animal stirred, rattling the bars of its cage. She did her best to ignore it, though the irony was not lost on her.

Fenrir gave her a slanting, sidelong look. He always did see too much. *Had reason to keep so much hidden away, though. Couldn’t become whole back then. Not on own. Had to wait for right time. Right person.*

She stared into the stream. Broken glints of sunlight danced on the surface, bright and fleeting.

“When you ran out of serum, and were stuck in hellhound form,” she said. “You didn’t think there was any way you’d ever be able to shift on your own. You thought you’d never be able to mate Darcy. How did you keep going?”

Fenrir watched the rippling water too. The breeze stirred his fur.

*Ate,* he said at last. *Drank. Slept. Did what body demanded, even though meat had no taste, and dreams offered no comfort. Put one paw in front of the other. Until finally caught up with hope.*

She hugged her knees. “I don’t know if there can be any hope. Not for me.”

*Never know if hunt will end in full bellies,*Fenrir said. He leaned against her. *But if don’t follow the trail, certain to go to sleep hungry.*

Blaise snorted. “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t find a way to work squirrels into that metaphor.”

Fenrir’s tongue lolled out in a doggy grin. *Squirrel is squirrel. Can’t be anything else. Same as all things.*

She rolled her eyes at him. “All right then, o wise and irritating sage. Hell, I asked Joe for advice. Might as well get a mystic fortune cookie from you too. Do you think Zephyr and I should mate?”

Fenrir’s reply was instant, and utterly without doubt. *No.*

“What?” Blaise blinked at him, taken aback. “Really? What about all that right time, right person crap you were spouting a second ago?”

*Stormheart is right person.*Fenrir turned his head, meeting her eyes. His copper-bright gaze was neither pitiless nor pitying; the penetrating, unreadable eyes of an animal. She could see nothing in them but her own reflection. *You are not.*

A primal shiver ran down her spine. Her own animal stirred again. Feather brushed against feather, whispering in accusation.

Blaise looked away first. Trying not to show her unease, she picked up another rock, lobbing it into the stream. It vanished without trace, lost the moment it broke the water.

If only I could get rid of my animal that easily.

“Gee, thanks for the brutal character assassination,” she said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

*Am.*He poked her with his damp nose. *Always. Fireheart—*

His mental voice broke off. He sprang up, stiff-legged, nose turned into the wind.

“What?” Blaise scrambled to her own feet, grabbing another rock. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but maybe she could bean a horned serpent in the head before it ate her face. Pulse spiking, she scanned the trees. “What is it? An attack?”

*No.* Fenrir’s black nose worked. His tail started to wag; at first tentatively, then with increasing speed. *Icehorse. But not just Icehorse. Something else… someone…*

The rest of the telepathic sentence was lost in deafening barks. Fenrir took off like a beagle that had just got a whiff of an incontinent fox.

Heading straight for the base.

“Fenrir!” Blaise pelted after him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me—Fenrir!You aren’t invisible in this form!”

Too late. Fenrir disappeared between the buildings, still yelping his idiotic head off. Blaise swore viciously, and picked up her pace.

She still arrived far too late. By the time she reached the parking lot, Fenrir’s racket had attracted not only her own squad, but Tanner as well.

“Hey, Blaise!” Tanner beamed at her as Fenrir frisked around Wystan, tail going like a speedboat propeller. “Didn’t expect to see this good boy again.”

“Yeah,” Blaise said through a fixed smile, inwardly cursing. “Me neither.”

“Ah.” Tanner scratched his beard. “Take it this wasn’t planned, then.”

“Unfortunately not.” Damn it, Fenrir. “He must have, uh, run off from his new owner and gotten lost. Guess he found his way back here.”

Tanner’s eyebrows rose. “From Minnesota?”

She really, really should have paid more attention to Joe’s cover story. Then again, she had a vague recollection that it had involved a lost llama, a lonely farmer girl, and the magic of Christmas. She was fairly certain that he’d cribbed the whole thing from a Hallmark Channel movie.

“Well, you know dogs,” she said, somewhat desperately. “Man’s best friend, and all that. Always crossing continents to get back home. Say, you mind giving us some space? He’ll settle down faster with fewer people around.”

Tanner nodded, and started to amble off. Then he hesitated, though he didn’t look round. Putting his hands in his pockets, he gazed thoughtfully at the sky.

“Knew a family of bears, once,” he said, apparently to the clouds. “Nice folks. Kept themselves to themselves.”

Blaise blinked.

“Seems to me, a man wants to be a dog from time to time, that’s his own business.” Tanner glanced back at her, winking. “Sure was funny watching y’all try to cover it up, though.”

Blaise didn’t get a chance to process that bombshell. As Tanner sauntered away, whistling, she caught sight of Zephyr.

Her heart slipped a gear. He stilled too, dark eyes fixing on her as though no one else existed in the entire world. This was quite a feat, given that Fenrir was still making enough noise to rouse a whole cemetery.

*Cub!*Fenrir’s mental shout overlaid his delighted barks. *Cub!*

“Well, so much for my surprise,” Wystan said, laughing as he pushed Fenrir away from his face. “I’m not hiding her under my shirt, so kindly stop pawing at me.”

Fenrir subsided, though he didn’t stop sniffing at Wystan’s clothes. *Can smell her properly at last, strong and clear. Is out of box? Is at den now?*

“Oh!” Edith flapped her hands, echoing Fenrir’s tail. “Wystan, is Fenrir right?”

Wystan’s smile widened. He still looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but joy shone in his eyes. “When is Fenrir ever wrong?”

Joe let out a yell that put even Fenrir’s barking to shame. He swept Wystan up in a bear hug. The rest of the squad joined in, their voices overlapping in a babble of excitement.

Blaise stepped back, giving the others space to congratulate Wystan. Not that she wasn’t happy for him too, but Wystan had been her friend for too long. He was bound to notice that something was on her mind, and ask what was wrong. After everything he’d been through, he deserved to have this moment untainted by her own personal troubles.

Zephyr hadn’t joined in the scrum either. Brow furrowed, he circled the group, coming to her side.

He leaned down, speaking for her ears alone. “What’s going on?”

“Candice and the baby are home at last.” Her heart lurched. “Wait. You couldn’t hear Fenrir?”

“Of course not.” He gave her an odd look. “I’m not a shifter.”

“No, but—” She bit her lip, catching herself. “Never mind. It’s probably nothing. He’s excited, maybe he just forgot to include you in the telepathic link.”

Zephyr looked down at her, his dark eyes troubled. “Are you all right?”

Automatically, she opened her mouth to say yes—but something stopped her. Once again, she saw her own reflection in Fenrir’s moon-bright eyes.

“No,” she said. “I’m not okay. Not even a little.”

He let out a soft breath. “Me neither.”

He shifted his weight a fraction, angling his hand toward hers. Not making contact; just there. Steeling herself, she curled her pinky finger around his, linking their hands together. They stood like that, barely touching, yet connected.

Mate,her animal whispered from the depths of her soul, in a voice formed from crackling embers. Our mate.

Yes. Blaise didn’t pull away. I know.

“Come on.” She tugged at his hand, pulling him toward their friends. “Let’s go meet the future.”