Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 21

“Oh, no.” Edith backed away, eyes wide. Blaise had seen her face down fifty-foot firestorms without breaking a sweat, but now she looked on the verge of terrified flight. “I can’t. I haven’t practiced.”

“This is your practice.” Candice dragged Edith over to the bassinet. “You’ll be hauling your own around in a few months. Come on, arms out.”

Blaise stepped back to give them room, and nearly trod on Rory’s boot. Candice and Wystan’s bright, open plan living room was still a tight fit for the entire squad and their mates. Especially when everyone was gathered around one tiny focal point.

“You’ll be fine, Edith,” Callum said from the sofa. His daughter perched on his lap, regarding the baby with an expression of faint suspicion. “You’ve held Beth plenty of times.”

“That’s different,” Edith protested as Candice ruthlessly rearranged her hands into a cradle hold. “At least Beth can support her own head. What if I do something wrong? She’s so little. I’m scared I might break her.”

“You won’t.” Wystan smiled, his green eyes soft and proud as he gazed at his daughter. “She may be small, but she’s strong. Look at what she’s already overcome in the first few weeks of her life.”

“A born fighter.” Candice scooped up the infant, settling her in Edith’s rigid arms. “There we go.”

The baby had been fussing in her crib, flailing her arms, but now her tiny fists stilled. She turned her head, unfocussed gaze roving around as though intrigued by this new, higher perspective.

“You’re a natural, Edith,” Wystan said. “See? She’s settling already.”

Some of the tension left Edith’s shoulders. She lifted the baby higher, nuzzling at her soft, fine hair.

“Oh,” Edith whispered. She breathed in, deeper. “Oh.”

“I know, right?” Diana said. She peered over Edith’s elbow, taking a long, blissful sniff herself. “Oh, I forgot how good that is.”

Edith cast a look at Rory, her expression rather punch-drunk. “I’m never going to get anything done. I’m just going to sit around all day huffing our baby’s head like crack cocaine.”

Rory chuckled, arms encircling his mate from behind. “Just as long as you let me take my turn.”

Diana stroked Estelle’s silky, silvery hair. “She certainly takes after you, Wystan. Do you think she’ll be a unicorn shifter too?”

“Too early to say for certain,” Wystan replied. “The shifter gene does tend to breed true, but it sometimes skips generations.”

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Candice said firmly. “She’s perfect as she is, no matter how she turns out.”

Edith peered more closely at the baby. “She’s got blue eyes. If she is a unicorn, that means she’ll be a healer, right?”

“Beth’s were blue too, though, when she was born. It can take months for eye color to darken to the final shade,” Diana said. “I think they’re already looking more greenish.”

Rory squinted down at the baby too. “No, I reckon Edith’s right. Definitely going to be blue.”

“Anyone want to place a bet?” Joe said.

“Against you?” Darcy said. “Nope.”

Joe spread his hands, adopting a look of exaggerated innocence. “I wasn’t going to place a wager. Just act as the house. You can all bet on either blue or green, and I’ll hold onto the money until there’s a clear winner.”

“Nobody take him up on that,” Blaise said, wishing she’d come up with the idea first. “Seriously.”

Wystan looked at her, his eyebrows rising. “You sound like you have insider knowledge, Blaise.”

Blaise managed not to flash a betraying glance at Zephyr. They hadn’t told any of the rest of the squad about the attempt to steer Joe’s visions. In retrospect, she was glad of that.

“Doesn’t take a vision to know that it’s a bad idea to hand Joe a wad of cash,” she said, forcing a light-hearted tone. “Not if you want to get it back again, at least.”

Joe clapped his hands to his heart. “I am wounded, wounded, at such an accusation. I would challenge you to a duel, if it didn’t mean missing out on snuggles. Come on, Edith, quit hogging the baby. You’re not the only one who needs to get in some practice, you know.”

Darcy blocked his way, hands on her hips. “Hey, get back in line. It’s Fenrir’s turn next.”

Fenrir—who had been shifting between two feet and four paws, too excited to settle in one form—popped back up to human height. “Did smell her first.”

Blaise was all too glad to fade to the back of the room, letting the others push past her. Not that she had anything against babies, but actually holding Estelle herself was more than she could handle in her current state of mind. It would make that potential future far too real.

Zephyr had also quietly drifted apart from the rest of the squad. He stood next to the big windows that looked out over the back paddocks. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was watching the grazing horses. Blaise, however, knew what he was really seeing.

She joined him, looking at the same nondescript patch of field too. “That’s where they’ll build the pony barn.”

Zephyr nodded, still staring out. “Did you see what was beyond it?”

“Can’t say I was really paying too much attention to the landscaping, no. Kind of preoccupied with other things at the time.”

“I only caught a glimpse myself.” His finger sketched a path along the tree line. “Cabins. Bigger than the ones at our base.”

“Huh. Like vacation rentals?”

“Not quite. More basic than that. Do you remember what Beth said? No fighting in camp.” Zephyr smiled, though there was still something wistful about his eyes. “I think they were dormitories. A summer camp, for children.”

Blaise frowned. “Doesn’t seem likely. Candice likes animals a lot more than people. Can’t see her running round after a pack of kids.”

“Ah.” Zephyr’s smile faded. “Perhaps I was mistaken, then.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“A little.” He turned away from the window, that wistful shadow still lingering in his expression. “It was my mother’s dream. She always talked about expanding the business beyond hiring out horses to tourists. She wanted to create a place for kids to come and learn about horses, and the forest, and maybe the old stories too. Somewhere they could get a little taste of the wild. So they’d understand why it was important, and fight to preserve it when they were adults.”

“I would have loved to be able to go to a place like that, when I was younger.” Blaise said. “A lot of kids would. Especially shifter kids. Maybe you should mention it to Candice.”

“No, you were right before. It isn’t her dream, and it’s the sort of thing that can only happen with true passion. Not to mention considerable investment. That’s why my mother was never able to get beyond the planning stage. My parents didn’t have much spare cash, and what little there was got put aside for my college fund.” He rubbed at his forehead, eyes closing in pain. “In retrospect, I wish I’d told them to spend the money on the ranch.”

“Hey.” She touched his shoulder, just for a moment. “None of you knew what was going to happen. No one can. Not even Joe, really.”

“I suppose not.” He opened his eyes again, looking down at her past his hand. “Blaise. What we saw… it won’t happen. Not that way, at that cost. I won’t let it.”

“I know.” She wanted to hold him so badly, but she didn’t dare. Not now, with her animal was already too awake, its hunger twisting under her skin. “It’ll be okay, Zeph. We’ll figure this out somehow. Together.”

“Together,” he echoed, like a promise. Then he winced, fingers pressing into his temples as though to dig something out of his own skull.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, realizing just how pale he’d gone. “You look awful.”

“Migraine.” He flashed her a tight smile, though there was a lot more pain than humor in it. “Apparently that’s what I get for trying to force fate to bend to my desire. Remind me to stay far away from Joe’s dreams in future.”

“Wystan should have some aspirin. Want me to ask him?”

“No, truly, I’m fine. Just need a drink of water, and a moment to myself. If anyone asks, tell them I went to the bathroom.” This time his smile touched his eyes. “Not that I expect anyone will even notice I’ve gone.”

This proved to be true. Even Callum didn’t glance after Zephyr as he slipped away. Blaise was fairly certain no one would have looked up from the baby if an entire herd of elephants had tap-danced through the living room.

Or, as it turned out, one cranky Superintendent. On the third ignored knock, Blaise gave up waiting for Wystan or Candice to respond, and went to answer the door herself. She opened it to find Buck on the other side, bearing a pink gift bag and an expression of deep disgruntlement.

“Finally,” he growled. “I was about to try the motherloving chimney.”

“Sorry.” Blaise stood aside to let him in. “It’s like the second coming in there. I’m beginning to feel I should have brought frankincense, or maybe a sheep.”

“At least you haven’t lost your head to baby fever.” Buck pushed past her, giving his dirty boots a perfunctory scuff against the doormat. “Zeph here?”

“Yeah. Bathroom. He’s not feeling so great.” Blaise hesitated. “We’ve… had some bad news. You might want to talk to him about that, later. Tell him I said it’s okay.”

Buck’s sharp black gaze rested on her a moment. For a second, he looked like he was about to reach out to clasp her arm, or pat her shoulder, or even—oh dear God, no—offer a hug.

To her relief, he just grunted. “Will do. Thanks for the heads up. You need to take some personal time, you let me know, you hear?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Blaise cupped a hand to her ear. “Was that you offering me a day off? During fire season? With full pay?”

“Who said anything about pay?” Buck stomped past her. “All right, you motherlovers, let’s see this baby. Just tell me it doesn’t have a tail and teeny tiny hooves, because there’s only so much enthusiasm I can fake.”

Fenrir solemnly displayed Estelle for the Superintendent’s inspection. “No hooves. Not for a while.”

Buck scowled down at Estelle, who stared right back. It was hard to tell whether she was unimpressed, or merely preoccupied with digestion.

“Cute,” Buck said, in the tone of a man having a confession extracted from him with heated pliers. “Can already tell she’s going to be a handful.”

Candice grinned at her daughter. “I certainly hope so.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Wystan said.

“Absolutely,” Buck said, “motherloving not.”

“He’s just saying that,” Blaise informed Candice. “He has to maintain his image. Actually he’s just dying to cuddle the baby. Don’t take no for an answer.”

Buck shot her a death glare, then turned to Wystan.

“Apparently, as your employer, I’m supposed to give you a gift to celebrate this significant life event. Good for staff morale, or some such bullcrap.” Buck jabbed the gift bag at him as though it was a spear. “Here.”

With an expression of slight trepidation, Wystan opened the bag. His polite smile broadened into genuine pleasure as he pulled out a crocheted blanket, worked in soft, forest-green wool. He shook it out, revealing a complex pattern of intertwining leaves.

“Shit, chief,” Blaise said, honestly impressed. “That looks handmade. Must have set you back a bit.”

Buck rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not really. It’s just a bit of yarn.”

“Oh, it’s so soft!” Edith exclaimed, fingering a corner of the blanket. “Is it cashmere?”

“Alpaca,” Buck mumbled to his boots. “Blended fiber. Thought it had better be machine washable, since it’s going to get dog knows what crap on it.”

“And look, Wystan, it’s the same color as your eyes,” Edith continued happily. “Or, well, I suppose you can’t see. But it’s a perfect match.”

“Like it was made specially for you,” Rory said slowly.

As one, the squad contemplated the blanket, then looked at Buck.

He glared back, folding his arms. “What? Man can’t have a hobby?”

“You’re going to have to give me some pointers, chief,” Joe said, and for once he didn’t sound like he was joking. “I was trying to make a baby hat. It kind of got away from me.”

“So that’s what that thing was meant to be,” Seren murmured. “I was wondering why you thought Wystan and Candice would like a giant purple sea anemone.”

A high-pitched wail cut through their conversation. Blaise turned, expecting to see a red-faced Estelle, but the baby was still deigning to be held by Fenrir with the gracious air of a queen enduring a tedious diplomatic function. It was Beth who was screeching her head off, back arched and eyes screwed up.

“Shh, shh,” Callum was saying, without noticeable effect. He rocked Beth on his shoulder, casting an apologetic look at them all. “Sorry. I think she might be coming down with something. She’s been cranky all morning.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Buck growled. “Can’t say that noise is helping any.”

“I hope you’re not getting sick, chief,” Rory said. “Not right before fire season.”

“It’ll pass.” Buck rubbed at his temples. “Happens this time every year, for a couple of days. Always know that fire season’s about to kick off in earnest when I wake up with my brain feeling like a kicked hornet’s nest. Probably stress.”

“More likely to be pollen,” Diana said. She grimaced, looking equally pained. “The same thing happens to me too. Allergies, I guess. Though I don’t know what could be blooming at exactly the same time in California and Montana.”

“I do.”

They all turned at Zephyr’s voice. He stood framed in the doorway, arms braced on either side as though having to hold himself up. He’d looked healthier when he’d first woken up from his coma.

Blaise leaped to support him, even as Buck did the same. Zeph let them take his weight, without so much as a murmur of objection. That worried Blaise even more than his pale, drawn face.

“Both of you have headaches too?” Zephyr looked from Buck to Diana. “And little Beth, but no one else? Joe?”

The sea dragon held up his hands. “Not me, bro. Fit as a fiddle, apart from the way you’re scaring the crap out of me.”

“Then I know what it is, and why it’s only the four of us with thunderkin blood who can sense it.” Zephyr looked around at them all, his dark eyes bleak. “We’re out of time. It’s Uncegila. The horned serpents are rising.”