Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant
Chapter 3
“Please,” Zephyr repeated yet again. “Honestly, I’m fine. There’s no need for all this.”
He’d tried to go after Blaise, only to be thwarted by doctors and nurses flooding into his room like a concerned tsunami. Short of strong-arming them all aside, there had been no way to escape. Now he was back on the bed yet again, the unwilling epicenter of a small storm of medical attention.
One of the nurses had brought him a spare set of scrubs, so at least he wasn’t having to endure the barrage of tests in nothing but a singed sheet. They were all very kind, and seemed genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.
But for all their questions, no one was listening to him.
Zephyr filled his tone with calm reassurance, not letting any hint of his agitation show in his manner. “I appreciate you’re trying to help. I’ll submit to any tests that you want to run, but later. Right now I need to find Blaise.”
“Mr. Frazer,” one of the doctors began.
“Zephyr.” It was strange enough having people addressing him by his own name. Every time the medical staff called him by his uncle’s, it felt like being punched in the sternum. “Or Zeph. Please.”
“Zephyr, then.” The doctor gave him a bland, reassuring smile, flicking on a small penlight. “I’m sure your friend is fine. Hold still, please.”
Zephyr winced as the beam of light stabbed his pupils. “You don’t understand. She…”
He hesitated, not sure how much to say. He hadn’t yet been able to work out how much the medical staff knew about the true nature of his coma, or if they were aware of the existence of shifters. If he tried to explain the real reason for his concern, they might escort him to a nice padded room.
“She seemed upset,” he said, since that was safer than She set fire to her own clothes and ran away. “Please. I just want to check that she’s all right.”
“There’s no need to worry, Zephyr.” The doctor sounded like she was talking to a toddler. Zephyr half expected her to pat him on the head and offer him a lollipop. “No doubt—I’m sorry, what did you say your friend’s name was?”
“Blaise.”
It made no sense, but just saying her name out loud made his pulse flutter. One of the machines hooked up to his chest let out a disapproving beep. The doctor glanced at the screen and tutted.
“Now, Zephyr, you need to try to stay calm,” she said, still in those aggravatingly reasonable tones. “You’ve been very unwell, and you mustn’t put any additional strain on your body. I’m sure Blaise would want you to stop worrying about her and just concentrate on getting better, hmm?”
This was, Zephyr suspected, an accurate assessment, given how ferociously Blaise had tried to get him to lie down and rest. She wouldn’t want him to fight his way free of the doctors in order to go charging after her, even if she was in distress.
Especially when he might be the cause of that distress.
He could still feel the heat of her skin, burned into his palm like a phantom brand. When they’d touched, it had been like clasping a live wire. Like a connection closing. And he’d felt… he’d heard…
Maybe it had been nothing. Blaise was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Perhaps it had just been his own pulse, pounding in his ears.
But there had been the way Blaise had yanked her hand back as though burned. The flash of sheer panic in her brown eyes, her sudden fear.
She’d felt something too. Something that had made her rush from the room, leaving nothing but the scent of smoke. Had her inner animal responded to him, sensing a rising threat?
And if that was the case… did it mean the Thunderbird was still there?
If it was, there was no sign of it now. Though his current surroundings weren’t exactly conducive to quiet meditation and spiritual reflection, he still had that unnerving sense of hollowness. It was as though part of his heart had been scooped out while he’d been unconscious.
But when Blaise had touched him, he’d felt whole.
With a sigh, Zephyr sat back, submitting to the doctors’ prodding and poking. If Blaise had sensed that the Thunderbird wasn’t entirely gone, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance. She knew all too well that he couldn’t control its furious power. She was wise to be wary of him.
But selfishly, he still wished she hadn’t fled. That he could talk to her further. Their brief encounter had left him burning with questions. Why had she shown him such kindness, when he’d caused her and her friends so much grief? How had she called him out of the darkness of his coma? How had she known all his secrets?
I know what it’s like to be tired of fighting, she’d said in his dream. I know what it’s like to be scared to wake up.
Did she battle her own monster, in the private depths of her soul?
A nurse popped his head around the door, smiling broadly. “Mr. Frazer? You have a visitor.”
A combination of relief and anticipation shot through him. Zephyr half rose, trailing sensor wires and making the monitoring devices connected to him emit shrill bleats of alarm.
“Blaise?” he started—and then froze.
It wasn’t Blaise.
“Zephyr,” said Buck.
He looked different. It was more than the passage of fifteen years. Zephyr had seen him through the Thunderbird’s eyes; only a handful of times, but enough that the wider streaks of gray in his hair didn’t come as a shock. Maybe there were new lines around his eyes, but that wasn’t it either. As far back as Zephyr could remember, Buck had always been weather-beaten and grizzled.
But before, he’d seemed timeless. Like a mighty oak, or a good pair of work boots; tough and hardened by the elements. Throughout Zephyr’s childhood, Buck had been a strong, solid presence, as unchanging as the granite peak of Thunder Mountain itself.
But now… now Buck looked old, as he never had before. Zephyr had never seen his uncle like this—weary and burdened, scarred by grief and long, sleepless nights.
There was so much Zephyr wanted to say to him. So much that he needed to say—or perhaps only one thing. The most important thing, the only one that mattered:
I’m sorry.
Sorry that he hadn’t saved his family; sorry that he’d disappeared without a trace, caught up in storm winds. Sorry that he hadn’t been strong enough to control the Thunderbird, that he hadn’t been able to stop its blind fury. Sorry for the fires and the destruction that he’d caused, and the horned serpents that had slipped past his guard.
Most of all, sorry that he hadn’t been able to find his way home. That he’d left his uncle like this, alone and grieving, weighed down by a guilt that should never have been his to carry.
I’m sorry.
The simplest words, yet he couldn’t get them out. Emotion choked him, so tangled and knotted he couldn’t even breathe.
Buck pulled him into a tight embrace. And for all the shadows under his uncle’s eyes and weariness in his stance, this was still the same; the strength in his arms, the unbreakable grip of his hands. His uncle held him, and he was finally home.
“I’m sorry, Zeph.” Buck’s voice, always gruff at the best of times, cracked and broke. “I’m so sorry.”
Zephyr closed his eyes against the burn of tears. He hugged his uncle back, hard, trying to say with touch what he couldn’t with words. He was startled to discover that he was taller than Buck now. His uncle had always loomed so large in his memories, and in dreams.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, hoping that this time, at last, his uncle would believe him. “You did everything you could. I’m the one who failed. Not you.”
“I should have been there. I should at least have worked out what had happened to you sooner, rather than giving you up for dead.” Buck’s hands tightened on his shoulder blades. “But I’m here now. I won’t lose you again.”
The doctor made a polite, awkward cough. “I’m sorry to interrupt the moment, but we still need to continue with assessment and treatment.”
“No,” Zephyr said firmly, not letting go of Buck. He turned his head to glare at the doctor. “I’ve waited fifteen years for this, and I’m not delaying a moment longer. You can run more tests later, if you must. Right now, I’m going to speak with my uncle. Alone.”
The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Frazer?”
Buck broke the embrace, stepping back. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes in a quick, furtive motion. “What are you looking at me for? Man’s a full-grown adult, hard as that is for me to wrap my brain around. He can make his own decisions.”
The doctor blew out her breath, but didn’t argue further. “I suppose you two have some catching up to do. But Zephyr, if you start to feel tired or unwell, please use the call button straight away. Remarkable as your recovery seems to be, you mustn’t overexert yourself.”
“Do the staff here know?” Zephyr asked Buck, once the doctors and nurses had filed out, taking the monitoring equipment with them. “About what really caused my coma, I mean.”
“Some of them.” Buck seemed ill at ease now that they were alone. He circled the room, glowering at each piece of furniture as though searching for hidden assassins. “This hospital is run by shifters. The staff get paid sky-high salaries to keep their mouths shut about what they see here. Had to bring you to a place where the docs are used to weird crap. Otherwise you’d have come round to find tubes up your ass and a bunch of scientists in white coats staring at you like a captured alien.”
Zephyr watched Buck prowl the small room like a caged leopard. “Blaise said that you shot me with anti-shift serum.”
Buck had his back to him, but Zephyr saw his shoulders stiffen. “Yes.”
“Thank you,” Zephyr said, softly.
Buck didn’t turn around, but some of the tension drained away. “Wasn’t sure whether you’d shake my hand or punch me in the face. Lot of people been telling me that I made the wrong call.”
“You couldn’t have done anything else. You’d throw yourself into fire to save family. It’s who you are.” Zephyr knew that all too well, though how wasn’t something he could explain to his uncle. “Once you realized the truth about the Thunderbird, you would never be able to just leave me like that. How did you figure it out?”
“It wasn’t all at once. Little things just added up, eventually. Stuff I found out about your mom and her Storm Society, and Uncegila’s vendetta against them. It made me think things over. See events in a new light. There was always something of a question mark hanging over the night you… disappeared.” Buck cleared his throat, still not looking at him. “The fire didn’t leave much behind. Not enough to identify. Or bury.”
Once again, he saw the bright, fierce strike of lightning. Zephyr breathed out, letting the pain wash through him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t my choice. But even if I’d been able to wrest control away from the Thunderbird, I would still have had to strike. Uncegila was there, in a host body, along with her demons. All I could do was destroy them. I was too late for anything but vengeance.”
Buck turned at last. He came over to sit on the bed next to Zephyr, side by side, not quite touching. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, not looking at him.
“They were already gone when you showed up, weren’t they,” Buck said. It wasn’t a question. “Your mom and stepdad. Uncegila killed them.”
Zephyr’s throat hurt. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
Buck rested his forehead on his clenched hands, knuckles white. “Your mom called me that night. Left a message, asking me to get back home because something was sniffing around the ranch. If I’d listened to it earlier—if I’d got there in time—”
“Then you’d have died too,” Zephyr interrupted firmly. “And you wouldn’t have been able to save me later, with the serum. There was nothing you could have done that night, Uncle. I’m the one who failed. Not you.”
Buck shot him a sidelong glare. “You were a goddamn kid, Zeph.”
Zephyr held his uncle’s gaze. “I was the one who opened myself to the lightning. I was the one who entreated the storm to take me. It was my choice, and my failure. Mine alone. You have to let go of this guilt at last. It is my burden to carry. Not yours.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither backing down. Buck looked away first, but Zephyr had the sinking feeling it wasn’t a concession.
“I still should have been there,” Buck muttered. “Or at least figured out the truth earlier. Damnation, I tried to straight up murder you. Spent over a decade hunting you across the state, determined to bring you down. Came within a gnat’s crotch of succeeding, too.”
Zephyr remembered that incident. Unlike many of his memories as the Thunderbird, that one was crystal clear. The searing burn of the wounds inflicted by Uncegila’s hellhound pack. His blood, dripping into the dry dust of the hotshot base. His uncle, teeth bared, gun drawn, aiming straight for his head. It had been one of the few times he’d managed to overrule the Thunderbird’s instincts.
“You found a way to bring me home, even if only for a little while.” Zephyr touched Buck’s arm. “I’m grateful that we had this chance to talk. But you can’t use this serum on me again.”
“I couldn’t, in any case. There was only one shot, and the motherloving basilisk says he’d need demon blood to make more.” Buck looked at him sharply. “But you’re not going anywhere, Zeph. Your critter’s dead.”
“Blaise told me that’s what the serum was supposed to do. But I don’t think it worked.”
Buck tensed, as though ready to physically snatch him out of the Thunderbird’s talons. “You think that thing’s still lurking inside you somewhere?”
“Perhaps. I’m not sure.” Zephyr spread his hands. “I don’t have any sense of its presence at the moment. But when Blaise and I touched, I felt… something. A spark. And I think she felt it too. I can’t be certain, though. She fled before I could ask her about it.”
“Blaise ran away?” From Buck’s tone, Zephyr might as well have announced that she’d burst into an impromptu aria. “Horse feathers. That woman literally walks into wildfires for nothing but a modest pay check. She wouldn’t run away from motherloving Godzilla, let alone your zap-happy overgrown chicken. You must be mistaken.”
“I was there. I know what I saw. She let go of my hand and bolted from the room as though I’d transformed into the Thunderbird then and there.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense. Even if you had gone up in a pillar of feathers and lightning, Blaise wouldn’t—” Buck stopped, a strange look creeping across his face. “Hang on. You two were holding hands?”
“Um. Shaking hands.” His uncle definitely did not need to know the full, embarrassing details of that particular incident. “Technically, it was the first time we’d met.”
“Let me take a wild guess as to how that went.” Buck’s voice was flat as a pancake. “Blaise stared deep into your eyes, and you felt a profound, inexplicable sense of connection, as though she was looking into your very soul.”
Zephyr flushed. When Buck put it like that, it sounded ludicrous.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Buck lifted his gaze to the ceiling, with the expression of a man planning to storm heaven itself in order to punch an angel in the face. “Motherloving shifters!”
“Er,” Zephyr said. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Buck pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zeph, you did misunderstand. Blaise didn’t skedaddle because she was scared you were about to transform.”
“But why else would she run away?”
“I am not having this conversation,” Buck muttered. “Look, Zeph. You need to talk about this with Blaise, not me. But I’ve spent the last few years hanging around motherloving shifters, and I’ve seen this play out more times than I care to remember. Just trust me on this one. You don’t have to worry that Blaise somehow detected the Thunderbird.”
Zephyr knew better than to try to argue further with his uncle. “If you say so. But that doesn’t change the fact that only the Thunderbird can stop Uncegila. If there’s any chance I might still—”
“No,” Buck said forcefully. “I’ll beat the damn thing around the head with a shovel, if that’s what it takes. You’re free now, and you’re staying that way. I promise.”
“That’s not something you can do, Uncle. That’s not something anyone can do. Not even me.”
“I failed you once.” Buck gripped his shoulder, hard enough to hurt. “I’m not losing you again.”
The fierce devotion in that growling voice made Zephyr’s heart twist in bittersweet pain. He wished that he could offer his uncle words of reassurance. That he could promise that it was all over.
Maybe it was all over. There was no storm inside him now, after all. Only emptiness, and silence.
But when he’d looked into Blaise’s eyes… when the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them…
He’d heard the sound of thunder.
