Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 30

Blaise was concentrating so hard on stripping down the chainsaw, she wasn’t aware of her father’s presence until he spoke.

“I thought you were under strict instructions to rest,” he said, right in her ear.

“Shit!” Blaise jumped, nearly spilling bar oil across the storeroom. She caught the bottle just in time. “Gee, thanks, Dad. And here I was just thinking my afternoon wouldn’t be complete without a heart attack.”

“Apologies.” He came round into view, soundless over the creaky floorboards. “I’m not used to being able to sneak up on you.”

There was a time when she would have felt his presence like a fire at her back. Now, her animal sat in her chest like an ice sculpture, not so much as twitching a feather at the Phoenix’s proximity.

She bent back to her work, running her fingers along the edge of the saw bar to check for burrs. “Mom said you went up to the Pine Ridge fire. Did you manage to contain it?”

Ash sat down on a storage crate, straight-backed. Despite his composed posture, she could see the tiredness around his eyes. Black burn marks from wind-blown embers marred his white button-down shirt.

“No.” Her father absently brushed at a streak of ash on his dress pants, only succeeding in smearing it further across the gray fabric. “I managed to divert the front away from the town itself, but the surrounding areas are still at risk.”

Blaise cast him a sidelong look. “In which case—and don’t take this the wrong way—what are you doing here?”

“The crews in the area are quite capable of handling the fire without my covert assistance, and your mother informed me that you and your crew would only be back for a few days. I thought I had best come see you while I could.” He raised one eyebrow at her. “Though I had expected to find you at your cabin. Resting.”

“Dad, you literally lived at the fire station for over a decade. I don’t think you can criticize my work-life balance.”

He tilted his head, conceding the point. “We all deal with things in our own ways. Some of us, perhaps, less well than others. In this, I fear I have not set you a terribly good example.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not about to cut myself off from everyone and become an enigmatic recluse.” Blaise found a rough spot on the saw bar where the chain had scratched the metal. She started filing it down. “But if I don’t wear myself out, I can’t sleep.”

“Ah.” Her father was silent for a moment, watching the movement of the file. “Have you seen Zephyr recently?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on her work. “Last night.”

“No change, I take it.”

Screeeeeeewent the file across metal. Blaise set her teeth and kept scrubbing at the burr.

“No,” she said, unable to keep a bitter edge out of her voice. “Nothing’s changed. He fights his way back, and we get a few moments together, and then he’s ripped away again. I’m not strong enough to hold him. If—”

She clamped her lips shut on the terrible thought. Her father completed it for her anyway.

“If you were the Phoenix,” he said softly, “perhaps it would be different.”

Blaise flinched. “I didn’t mean—even if I could, I would never—”

“I know.” He looked down at his loosely clasped hands. “It is selfish of me, but I am glad that you removed that option. Not because I feared for my own safety, for I knew that you would never harm anyone you loved. But I hated knowing that I was causing you pain. That you had no choice but to deny your own nature, out of love for me.”

Blaise put the chainsaw to one side. She hugged him, hard, despite her grease-covered hands.

“I’m glad you’re my father,” she said fiercely. “I’m proud to be your daughter. I wouldn’t change that. Not for anything.”

“This has gone terribly wrong,” her father murmured into her shoulder. “I came here to offer you moral support and comfort.”

“Hey, this works for me. I like being the strong one.” With a last squeeze, Blaise released him. She wrinkled her nose at the stains she’d left on his shirt. “Sorry. I should have wiped my hands first.”

“This shirt was a lost cause anyway.” Ash looked down ruefully at his ruined outfit. “I should have accepted when your Superintendent offered to lend me turn out gear.”

“Yeah, it’s never a great idea to wear business casual to a wildfire. Even when you’re fireproof.” Blaise picked up the chainsaw again, hunting around for the chain she’d stripped off earlier. “So, you just dropped by to offer moral support, huh?”

“Yes. I intended to provide you with the benefit of my great wisdom, and impart much fatherly advice. You would have been greatly uplifted and filled with renewed determination. I had a whole speech planned.”

“Really?”

“No,” her father confessed. “This may shock you, but I have been improvising for your entire life.”

Blaise grinned. “I hope you aren’t disappointed, but I figured out that you weren’t actually all-knowing by the time I was seven.”

“I am human, though not only human.” Ash eyed her. “I have many flaws, not least of which is a difficulty expressing empathy. I am not as good at this as your mother. But I do understand something of what you are going through. Perhaps even more than her.”

He knew what it was like to see your mate, but never be able to touch. He’d felt the bleeding pain of a broken mate bond. And for him, it hadn’t been a matter of weeks, or months. He’d lived like this for years.

“Does it ever get easier?” she asked him, and immediately regretted it.

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, still and silent. She didn’t need to read the truth in his face. She already knew the answer.

She looked away, concentrating on coaxing the chain onto the saw blade. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“I have never told you comforting lies. Not even when you were a child.” Ash rested his elbows on his knees. “I will not start now. But there are two things that I know, beyond doubt. The first is that you are stronger than me.”

Blaise cracked out a disbelieving laugh. “Dad. Be serious.”

“I am.” There was nothing but conviction in his face. “I took the easier path, though it did not feel that way at the time. You have a strength in you that I didn’t, one that has nothing to do with your animal. You will never give up, no matter how much it hurts. You will keep fighting for your mate, with every breath, for as long as it takes.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her face heating. “There’s a word for people who keep trying the same thing over and over in the hope of getting different results, and it isn’t ‘strong.’ I don’t think sheer cussedness is going to solve this one, Dad.”

“Perhaps not.” His mouth curved up, very slightly. “But it will keep you going until you find a solution.”

Blaise clipped the final link into place around the saw bar. The chain moved easily now, whole and gleaming. If only it was that easy to restore her own broken connection.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I won’t give up. I can’t. But I couldn’t hold on to Zephyr even with the mate bond. How am I going to bring him back without it?”

“That is the other thing that I know.” Ash leaned forward, his intent gaze capturing hers. “Nothing can destroy the love between true mates. Not distance, or time, or storms. Not even Phoenix fire. Nothing.”

The mate bond was like shards of glass in her heart. “But it is broken. I felt it, Dad. I felt our connection snap.”

“The bond, perhaps. But that is just an expression of love, not the love itself. The fire, rather than the fuel.” He tapped her chest, right over her heart. “A fire can be extinguished, but it can also be rekindled. All it takes is a spark.”

He might have said more, but heavy footsteps cut him off. They both turned as Rory pounded up the stairs, bursting into the storeroom. Blaise expected him to yell at her for working when she was meant to be resting, but instead he just gave them both a curt, relieved nod.

“Good, you’re both here,” he said. “Leave that. We need everyone together, right now.”

Blaise shoved the chainsaw onto the closest shelf, scrambling to her feet. “What’s the emergency? Another wildfire?”

“No.” Rory’s expression was grim. “Joe’s had a vision.”