Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant
Chapter 24
“Ican’t tell if they’re bonding,” Rory murmured, watching the show with an expression of morbid fascination. “Or if this is some kind of strange dominance display.”
Blaise took another swig of her beer, unable to tear her own eyes away from the spectacle. “Both, I think.”
Over at the vast brick-built grill, Buck’s spatula smacked Ash’s tongs away from a steak. The Superintendent gesticulated with the tool, heatedly explaining something about juices and searing. Ash tilted his head, appearing to accept the correction, and then—the moment Buck turned his back—flipped the steak anyway.
“I had no idea it was possible to turn grilling into a competitive sport,” Joe said in hushed, awe-struck tones. “They’re either going to murder each other in the next two minutes, or be best friends for life.”
“I’m not sure which of those options is more terrifying.” Rory frowned. “Is it just me, or do the coals on Buck’s side keep flaring up?”
Right on cue, a tongue of flame licked over the Superintendent’s painstakingly marinated chicken pieces. Even from across the parking lot, Blaise could hear Buck’s curse. With the serenity of a saint, Ash flipped another steak.
Blaise slid from her perch on the hood of their crew transport. “I’d better intervene before my dad gets me fired.”
“Blaise.” Rory caught her elbow. “Time’s running out. We haven’t wanted to push you, but we should talk about tomorrow. About Zephyr, and the ritual.”
“It’s all right.” She laid a hand on his arm. “There’s nothing to talk about, Rory. It’s okay. I have a plan.”
Joe’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Bro, you know we’d die for you. But if you’re still hoping we can all hold onto Zephyr with the magic of friendship—”
“I’m not. Look, I know everyone’s worried. Honestly, I’m scared shitless too. But this is something Zeph and I have to tackle on our own. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Rory’s golden eyes searched hers. After a moment, he nodded, releasing her.
“We do,” he said, in a deep, soft voice. “We’re here if you need us.”
She hugged him, and then Joe. “I know. I’m gonna go save Buck from my dad, or possibly vice versa. If you see Zeph, tell him I need to talk to him, okay?”
The space around the fire pit was packed with crew members and their families. Firefighters from different squads swapped bragging boasts about past seasons, showing off in front of their spouses and kids. Despite all the smiling faces, there was a tense edge to the party. After tonight, the crew would be on the books; available for active assignment. Everyone was aware that this could be the last meal they would share with their loved ones for several weeks.
The strained carnival atmosphere matched her own mood perfectly. Blaise cut her way through the crowd, exchanging nods and waves without stopping to chat. Then she heard a name that stopped her in her tracks.
“So, there we were, this big fire breathing down our necks, and Fenrir comes bounding out of the smoke with his mouth full of baby squirrels,” Tanner was telling a wide-eyed circle of kids. “That giant dog carried every one of those little critters out of there like they were his own puppies, gentle as you please. Such a good boy.”
Fenrir loomed behind Tanner, listening to the story as well. Even though he was in human form, Blaise could practically see his tail wagging.
An adolescent girl—who Blaise had a vague recollection was the daughter of one of Tanner’s B-squad firefighters—heaved a wistful sigh. “Fenrir sounds amazing. I wish I could meet him.”
“Well now, maybe you will some day.” Tanner winked at Fenrir. “He still drops by from time to time.”
Blaise left them to their fun, though not without shooting Tanner an exasperated glare. Ducking round Wystan—who was displaying photos of Estelle to an admiring audience of C-squad firefighters—she headed for the grill.
“Gather you were some kind of fire chief,” Buck was saying as Blaise came into earshot of the conversation. “Structural, right?”
“East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. Almost forty years.”
“Pretty impressive. Ever do anything apart from firefighting?”
Ash prodded a steak. “I was in the military, for a time.”
Buck swatted Ash’s tongs away from the food again. “I told you, don’t keep poking it. Lets the juices out. Military, huh? Same here. U.S. Marines.”
“My daughter has told me a little of your history. Thank you for your service.”
“Don’t do that either. So what were you? Army?”
“No,” Ash said, his gaze on the sizzling meat. “I was a weapon.”
*Quit trying to intimidate him,*Blaise sent to him. *It won’t work.*
“So I am discovering,” her father said out loud, making Buck shoot him a funny look. “Hello, Blaise.”
“Hi, Dad.” Blaise nodded at Buck. “Chief. Thought I’d come see how it was going over here.”
Buck raised an eyebrow. “Checking on the food, or checking that we aren’t swapping embarrassing stories about you and Zeph?”
Blaise narrowed her eyes at her dad. “Don’t you dare.”
“I would not,” Ash replied with total sincerity. He put a steak on a paper plate. “Your mother made me promise not to relate any anecdotes from your childhood.”
“Good.”
“Mainly,” Ash added, handing the plate to the next pair of eager hands, “because she tells the stories much better. In her opinion.”
“Oh no.” Blaise looked at Buck in dismay. “Please tell me she hasn’t been talking to you.”
“Me?” The Superintendent looked far too innocent for comfort. “Been standing here all evening, chatting with your dad. You should know, seeing as how you’ve been giving us the hairy eyeball the whole time.”
Blaise let out her breath. It was true, she hadn’t seen her mother anywhere near the grill.
In fact, now that she came to think of it, she’d barely seen her mother at all.
“Wait,” she said, a terrible suspicion forming in her stomach. “Where is Mom?”
Ash tranquilly flipped a steak. “I couldn’t say.”
“He really can’t,” Buck added. “Gave his word and all. Sure am glad I don’t have a mate. Seems like nothing but trouble.”
“It has its advantages,” her father murmured.
Buck’s grunt conveyed deep skepticism. “Maybe you should try asking a different question, Blaise. Like what your mom is doing, while we’re here keeping you distracted.”
Blaise stared at them both.
Ash contemplated the star-strewn sky, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips. “I believe she is currently showing Zephyr your baby photos.”
* * *
“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” Rose said happily, flicking to the next picture. “Such chubby cheeks. Oooo, and just look at those cute overalls!”
Zephyr forced a smile, while wistful fantasies about summoning the Thunderbird played in his mind. Disappearing into the dream realm had never seemed so appealing.
“I shouldn’t monopolize you like this,” he attempted, yet again. “I’m sure Rory and the others want to catch up with you.”
“Oh, they can wait. Getting to know my daughter’s mate is far more important. And look, we’ve still got…” She squinted at the phone screen and beamed. “Two thousand, eight hundred and six photos left!”
Zephyr made a sound that attempted to feign polite enthusiasm. It came out more like a death rattle.
As if in answer to his prayers, the door of Buck’s office slammed against the wall. Zephyr’s relief plummeted straight to horror as Blaise burst into the room. He made a lightning grab for the phone in Rose’s hand, missed, and fell off the desk.
“Hello, love,” Rose said calmly, not looking up from the screen. “Took you long enough.”
Blaise’s snatch for the phone was a lot faster than his own had been. Zephyr still had a sneaking suspicion that Rose let her take it.
“Mom! How could you—” Blaise stopped, blinking at the device. “Wait a sec. This isn’t your phone. And that’s not… holy shit, is that Zeph?”
“Wasn’t he just the cutest toddler?” Rose said. “Oh, scroll back. There’s a picture where he’s wearing a bowl of spaghetti as a hat, with the most priceless expression on his little face. It should be a meme.”
The temptation to crawl under his uncle’s desk and remain there for the rest of his life was nearly overwhelming.
With a sigh, Zephyr got to his feet. “I suppose there’s no point asking for my phone back.”
Blaise held the device out of reach. “Hey, fair’s fair. You looked at my baby photos, so I get to laugh my ass off at yours.”
“Actually,” Rose murmured. “He didn’t. That’s why he’s showing me his family photos.”
Blaise stared at her, and then him.
Zephyr shrugged, grimacing. “You did tell me once that you didn’t want me to see any pictures of you before the age of nineteen. And your mother drives a hard bargain.”
Rose patted his cheek. “I approve of this one, love. You should keep him.”
“That’s the plan.” Blaise’s tone was flippant, but her brown eyes were soft. “I need to talk to my mate, Mom. If you’re quite done tormenting him.”
“For now,” Rose said cheerfully. She winked at him, and cold dread ran down Zephyr’s spine. “You can show me the rest another time. I bet you were just adorableat the age of ten.”
She sauntered out, closing the door behind her. Zephyr collapsed into the office chair with a groan.
“And to think I was worried about meeting your father,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, sorry. I probably should have warned you that he’s my least terrifying parent.” Blaise tossed him his phone, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “Baby photos, huh?”
“My mom’s archive. She kept everything backed up to the cloud.” He started to put the phone back in his pocket, then hesitated. “Would you like to see?”
“You with spaghetti on your head? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Not that one.” He thumbed through pictures for a moment. “Here.”
Blaise perched on the edge of the desk, angling her head to see the screen. The wicked tilt to her grin faded.
“Oh,” she said softly.
“I like your mom.” He looked down at the screen, at that moment frozen in time. The bright colors swam together, his vision blurring. “I wish you could have met mine.”
Blaise touched his shoulder, gently, just for a second. “Me too. Is that your dad?”
“Yes. Well, stepdad, actually. He and my mom met when I was eleven, through the Storm Society. Married a year later.” He swiped the screen, showing her the wedding photo. “Ignore my expression. I was annoyed about the suit.”
Blaise’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that you and formalwear don’t mix. Shit, is that Buck in the uniform? He’s actually smiling.”
Zephyr smiled too. “Buck didn’t really have anything in common with my stepdad, but my uncle could see that he made my mom happy. That was enough.”
Blaise looked at him, studying his face. “Do you have any pictures of your biological father?”
He shook his head. “I never knew him. Left before I was born. He wasn’t thunderkin, you see. My great-grandma—the leader of the Storm Society at the time—had a strict policy of secrecy regarding our connection to the Thunderbirds. Even people from thunderkin bloodlines had to join the society and swear to keep the secret before they were entrusted with the truth. But when my mom discovered she was pregnant, she decided she had to tell my biological father, since she wanted to raise me in our traditions. He… didn’t take it well.”
“Ouch. Doesn’t sound like a great guy. No offense.”
“None taken. He contributed half my chromosomes, but there was never any emotional connection. He made it clear that he didn’t have any interest in ‘goddamn freaks,’ even if one was his son. I didn’t care. I had my mom, and my uncle, and later my stepdad. They were enough. But I think… I think that was why my mom never told my uncle the truth about the Storm Society, even after my great-grandma passed. Once bitten, twice shy, as it were.”
“Pretty sure your mom could have told Buck that she sacrificed goats to Uncegila every full moon, and he’d just grunt and ask if she needed him to collect her ceremonial robes from the dry cleaner.”
Zephyr chuckled as he switched off his phone. “Me too. But fear isn’t rational. It’s hard to trust after that kind of trauma.”
“Yeah.” Blaise was silent for a moment, biting her bottom lip. “That’s kind of what I want to talk to you about. Zeph, you know my nightmares?”
“Not in detail,” he said, watching her fingers twist together. “I’ve never intruded into your dreams, Blaise. I wouldn’t do that without your permission.”
“Well, I’m asking now.” Blaise set her shoulders, lifting her chin. He could see how scared she was, and also how certain. “I need your help, Zephyr. I need to face my phoenix.”
