Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 6

Blaise had a plan.

It wasn’t a great plan, admittedly. In essence, it boiled down to “Keep busy, deny everything, and stay the hell away from Zephyr.” But after several hours of random driving, mainlining Cheetos and changing radio stations whenever a love song came on, she still hadn’t been able to come up with anything better.

“It’ll work,” she muttered to herself as she headed back to the base. “It’ll have to work.”

In the general bustle of crew arriving and unpacking, it had been easy to slip away without being noticed. She’d taken the precaution of turning off her phone, so that no one would be able to call to ask where she’d gone. If fire season had opened, that would have been a serious offense—everyone had to be prepared to drop everything and head out the moment a call came in—but the crew wasn’t on standby yet.

No doubt the rest of the squad would give her grief about missing Zephyr’s arrival, but she could handle that. Tomorrow, training would start in earnest, and she’d be able to find plenty of excuses to keep her distance from him. And then it would be fire season, and the whole crew would be off on assignment for weeks at a time. There’d be at least half the state between her and Zephyr, if not half the country. Even her animal had to give up and settle down at that point, surely.

She parked her pickup truck at the bottom of the track up to the base, so that the engine noise wouldn’t alert anyone that she was back. With any luck, Zephyr would have turned in by now. But just in case everyone was still celebrating his return, she’d take one of the back trails to the crew cabins, and pretend to be asleep if anyone came knocking. All she had to do was get through tonight, and after that it would be smooth sailing.

It was a good plan, and it lasted exactly as long as it took her to get out of her truck, turn around, and find herself nose to chest with Callum.

“Shit, Cal!” Blaise peeled herself off the side of her truck. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to get Diana to hang a damn bell round your neck.”

“Sorry.” Callum handed her an industrial-sized tub of saw bar oil. “Here.”

Even for Callum, this was unusually cryptic.

“First you give me a heart attack, and now lubricant.” Blaise eyed the tub suspiciously. “This had better not be some kind of sex joke.”

“It’s an excuse,” Callum said patiently, as though speaking to his toddler. “We told Buck that you’d left to pick up essential supplies. Didn’t want him to realize you’re avoiding Zephyr.”

“I’m not avoiding Zephyr.” Even to her own ears, it didn’t sound convincing. “I just… needed to clear my head.”

Callum nodded, not saying anything. He stood there, blocking her path.

Blaise sighed. “You’re not going to let me sneak off, are you.”

Callum reached round her, opening the door of her truck. “He wants to see you.”

Blaise’s heart did the now familiar double thump. “Zephyr?”

“Buck.”

“Oh.” Blaise pushed down a stupid pang of disappointment, hoping that Callum hadn’t noticed. With a grimace, she climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Well, can’t ignore a summons from the chief. You want a lift, or are you flying back?”

Callum took the passenger seat, somewhat to her surprise. His pegasus could have covered the short distance to the base in the time it took her to restart the engine. Maybe he just didn’t trust her not to do a three point turn and hightail it over the horizon.

“He asked after you,” Callum said without preamble.

“Who, Buck?”

“No.” Callum slanted a sidelong glance at her. “Zephyr.”

I am not going to ask. I am not going to ask. I am not going to ask.

“What did he say about me?” Blaise burst out, and could have kicked herself. “I mean, just out of curiosity. Was he wanting to talk about something specific, or just say hi?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. If you dare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Buck took the squad to one side when he got back. Said he’d fire anyone who tells Zephyr about mates.”

“Good,” Blaise said, and then blinked as her brain caught up with her ears. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Don’t know.” Callum gave her another of those enigmatic looks. “Though we thought you might.”

They’d reached the base. Blaise played for time, reversing her truck into a parking space while her mind whirled.

Why would Buck want to keep the concept of mates a secret? Did he know about her? How could he know? She hadn’t spoken with the Superintendent since their brief phone call at the hospital. Had Zephyr said something that had tipped Buck off? How could he have done, if he didn’t even know about mates?

She hopped out, still frowning. “Maybe Buck’s just trying to protect his nephew. You know how the Superintendent feels about ‘motherloving shifters.’”

“Maybe,” Callum echoed, sounding unconvinced. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Me? Of course. I’m fine. Just peachy.” Stop talking, Blaise. Her palms started to sweat. “Why would you even ask?”

Callum stopped, touching her arm so that she turned to look at him. In the fading evening light, his expression was grave, and deeply troubled.

“Because I’m your friend,” he said. “And I’m worried about you. We all are. I wish you’d let us help.”

Blaise swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I know. I appreciate the thought, Cal. But there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

When the weather was fine, the crew usually ate outside, enjoying the fresh air and view across the mountains. This late in the evening, the benches and tables were mostly empty. A firefighter’s day started early, and generally getting a full eight hours won out over staying up to chat. Only A-squad and their mates, plus Buck, still sat around the fire pit.

And one other person.

The low-burning fire silhouetted Zephyr’s lean form. He was sitting on a log, back to her, talking quietly to Diana. As though able to sense the pressure of her gaze, he stiffened, turning. The moment he saw her, his face broke into a smile of pure delight. He scrambled up, coming to meet her.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Uh,” she managed, with monumental effort. “Hi.”

This was about as much conversation as she could muster, given that all her brain cells were in the process of leaking out her ears. She stared at Zephyr, hoping that he would take it from here, but he seemed to be as much at a loss as she was. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands in his pockets, looking pleased and awkward and criminally kissable.

Words. Words would be appropriate. What even were words. Shit. She had to say something. Anything.

“You’re dressed,” she blurted out, and immediately longed for the sweet relief of death.

He ran a finger under the collar of his T-shirt, tugging it away from his neck as though it was suddenly too tight. This had the side effect of giving her a brief, tantalizing glimpse of his throat and collarbones. In terms of regaining her composure, this was less than helpful.

“I’m sorry for flashing you when I woke up,” he said. It was hard to tell in the flickering orange light of the fire, but she thought he might be blushing. “I promise my clothes will stay on in future.”

“Oh no,” Blaise’s mouth said, while her brain gibbered and ran in circles. “What a pity.”

Zephyr’s flush deepened, but his crooked smile hitched up a notch. Clearing his throat, he gestured at her. “Did you find what you needed?”

“Hell yes,” Blaise said, then belatedly realized he meant her pretend errand. She hefted the tub of grease, holding it up. “Uh, that is, yeah. Sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you with the others, but I really needed to get this. Urgently.”

He looked curiously at the tub, head tilting to one side. “What is it?”

“Lube.” As Zephyr’s eyebrows shot up, she yelped, “For chainsaws! I mean, we use it to grease the saw bars. Nothing else.”

Zephyr chuckled. “That’s a relief. For a moment, I feared there was a whole unexpected side to wildland firefighting that I’d never imagined.”

Humor danced in his midnight eyes, like the sparks from the fire. The easy warmth of his smile dissolved the tension between them. She found herself grinning back at him, her singing nerves relaxing a bit.

Then Zephyr’s expression faltered, his eyes flicking to one side. She followed the line of his glance to Buck. The Superintendent sat on the other side of the fire pit with a can of soda in one hand, watching them impassively through the flames.

Buck does know. Shit shit shit.

“I’m, uh, gonna go see if there’s anything left to eat.” She backed away so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Good to see that you’re feeling better. Bye!”

“Wait,” he called after her. “Blaise, can we talk?”

She pretended not to hear, practically sprinting across the yard. To her relief, Zephyr didn’t try to follow her. Not daring to glance back in case their eyes met again, she took refuge in the mess hall.

The tables were bare, but the door to the kitchen stood open, casting a long rectangle of light into the shadowed hall. Going through, she found Tanner and Fenrir loading plates into the dishwasher.

“Hey guys,” Blaise said, as casually as she could manage. “Am I too late to grab a bite?”

Tanner nodded in the direction of a foil-covered platter. “Still some burgers left, despite the rest of your squad. Never seen anyone able to pack food away like you chowhounds, and that’s saying something. It’s a wonder y’all aren’t as round as hogs.”

“Hey, we burn it off.” Blaise started assembling herself a triple-stacked burger. “Anyway, we have to eat while we can. Like bears preparing for winter. The so-called food we get on assignment is terrible. Especially the MREs.”

Fenrir shrugged. “Beef stew is not too bad.”

“That’s my favorite one too.” Tanner shot Fenrir a curious look. “Though how do you know about the ready-to-eat meals, Fenton? Thought Rory said you were a rookie.”

“We, uh, took him some to try last winter,” Blaise put in hastily. “You know, so he could see how bad they were, before he decided whether to apply for the crew.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t put you off,” Tanner said to Fenrir. He tilted his head to one side, looking at the hellhound with a slightly quizzical air. “Never seen a rookie settle in so fast. If I didn’t know it was your first day, I’d have thought you’d been part of the crew for years.”

Blaise, who’d just taken a large bite of her burger, nearly choked on it.

“Yes.” Fenrir’s tone was solemn, but his copper eyes sparkled with amusement. “Feels that way to me too.”

“Huh.” The line between Tanner’s eyebrows deepened. “Funny. You know, I could’ve sworn that we’ve met before, somehow. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

With a convulsive effort, Blaise forced down her half-chewed mouthful. “Hey, Tanner, you wanna head off? No sense you hanging around watching me eat, and I’m sure Rohelio’s waiting for you.”

To her relief, the diversion worked. Tanner smiled, in the lopsided, goofy way he always did when someone mentioned his husband. If they’d been shifters, Blaise was certain they would have been true mates.

“Wouldn’t mind getting an early night.” Tanner winked. “If you take my meaning. You sure you’re okay finishing up here?”

“No problem.” Blaise waved him off, her own grin rather fixed. “See you tomorrow!”

She sagged against the countertop once Tanner was safely gone. “Fenrir, you have got to be more careful.”

Fenrir’s lip curled to show what would have been a hint of fang, if he’d been in hellhound form. “Don’t like lying. And he does know me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell him that he used to scratch you behind the ears. Gossip spreads faster than wildfire around here. If Tanner figures out that there’s something weird about us, it won’t be long before the whole crew knows our secret.”

Fenrir made a disgruntled growl. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Crew hunts together, eats together, guards each other. Is like pack. Not right to keep secrets from pack.”

Blaise would have argued further, but Buck picked that moment to stalk into the kitchen. Fenrir took one look at the Superintendent and ducked his head, shoulders hunching in submission. Without a word, the hellhound fled.

“Gee, thanks,” Blaise muttered, glaring at Fenrir’s rapidly departing back. “So much for ‘pack is pack,’ huh?”

“Man has some sense.” Buck shut the kitchen door behind the hellhound. “Some conversations are best kept private. You got something you want to tell me, Blaise?”

Blaise was still hungry, but her burger abruptly looked as appetizing as a mud pie. She put it down, pushing the platter away. “No, chief.”

Buck’s impassive expression didn’t flicker. “You sure about that?”

She squared her stance, meeting his narrow-eyed stare head on. “If there was anything that might compromise the safety or effectiveness of the crew—or anyone else—I’d tell you without hesitation. If you can’t trust that, you might as well fire me now.”

Buck held her gaze for a long moment. Whatever he read in her eyes seemed to satisfy him, because his jaw unclenched. With a sigh, he went over to the fridge. To her surprise, he pulled out two bottles of beer, and held one out to her.

“Where’d this come from?” Blaise took the bottle, cracking the cap off with her bare hands. “Thought you didn’t approve of booze on base.”

“Picked it up while Zeph was shopping for clothes. Had a feeling we both might need a drink tonight.” He raised his own beer, tipping it toward her. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

“And a new fire season.” Blaise clinked her bottle against his. “With lots of overtime working big, boring jobs a long way from home.”

“Ha. I’ll drink to that.”

Uncomfortable silence fell, thick as smog. Blaise wasn’t sure whether to down her beer as fast as possible, or make it last in order to have an excuse not to talk. She and Buck normally got on like a house on fire. It was a new and entirely unwelcome thing to feel awkward around him.

At least Buck looked equally ill at ease. Although he’d been the one to instigate the conversation, he didn’t seem to know what to do next. He fidgeted with his beer bottle, rolling it from hand to hand.

“I do trust you,” Buck said abruptly. “Hellfire, you’re one of the best crew members I’ve ever had. But he’s my family, Blaise. My only family. I won’t see him hurt.”

Blaise realized how hard she was gripping her beer bottle and forced her fingers to relax. “Me neither. Nothing’s going to happen, chief. You have my word on that.”

“I’m not asking you to make a promise you can’t keep. I’ve seen how you motherloving shifters get around your mates.” Buck shot her a glare as she opened her mouth. “Don’t waste your breath. I’m not an idiot, and I won’t be treated like one. You two have practically got doves circling your heads crapping out heart-shaped confetti.”

Blaise winced. “Look, I’m doing the best I can, okay? I didn’t want this either.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed even further. “You saying there’s something wrong with my nephew?”

“No!” Blaise yelped. “That’s not what I—hang on, whose side are you on, anyway? I thought you’d want me to keep my distance.”

“I do. I think. I don’t know.” Buck rubbed his forehead. “Shit. Look, Blaise. Zeph felt something when you two locked eyes. Maybe it was just that damn psychic connection thing that you freaks have going on with your better halves. But maybe it wasn’t.”

Her heart moved sideways in her chest. “The Thunderbird? But it’s dead. Zeph said so.”

“I know, and apparently he hasn’t felt so much as a twitch ever since.” Buck fixed her with a look that was a long way from his usual glare. On anyone else, she would have said it was pleading. “I just got him back, Blaise. I can’t lose him again.”

“You won’t,” Blaise said. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing between me and Zeph, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it stays that way. Now, can we please never talk about this ever again?”

Buck’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment. Then he shook his head and drained the last of his beer.

“Sounds like we’re on the same page, then.” Buck tossed the empty bottle into the trash, heading for the door. “Let’s go. Zephyr’s got something he wants to ask the whole squad. And Blaise?”

She followed him out of the kitchen. “Yeah?”

He kept his back to her, not looking round. “If it had to be anyone… I’m glad it’s you.”

Buck strode away before she could even begin to figure out how to respond to that one. He rejoined the group at the fire pit, taking a seat next to his nephew.

Disconcerted, Blaise went to the other side of the circle, finding a spot as far away from Zephyr as possible. She’d been worried he’d try to chase her down again, but he’d gone back to his conversation with Diana.

Whatever they were discussing, Callum didn’t seem to like it. He was sitting on Diana’s other side, listening without comment. His expression, always forbidding, had gone downright grim.

“No,” he said.

“Callum.” Diana laid a gentle hand on her mate’s knee. “We have to at least think about it.”

Callum shook his head, his jaw tight. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“What’s this about?” Blaise muttered to Edith.

“Zephyr was telling us how he became the Thunderbird,” Edith whispered back. “Apparently he did some kind of ritual. Diana wants to try it.”

“What?” Blaise said, too loudly. Everyone looked at her, but she was too busy being horrified to care. “Diana, are you crazy?”

Diana tilted her chin up. “This is my birthright. My mother was a member of the Storm Society, along with his parents. I’m thunderkin, just like Zephyr.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to him,” Joe said. He shrugged apologetically at Zephyr. “No offence, bro.”

“I’m with Blaise.” Rory shook his head. “It’s too dangerous, Diana. I can’t believe you’re even considering it.”

“If there was any other way to stop Uncegila, I wouldn’t.” Diana looked pale, but determined. “But there isn’t. The horned serpents can’t be allowed to emerge unchecked. They’ll devastate the ecosystem, and eventually work up to people. I can’t sit by and let that happen. Not when there might be a way I can help.”

“But you’ve got a—” Blaise very nearly said mate. “A family. Beth’s not even two yet. She needs you, and so does Cal. You can’t abandon them. You just can’t.”

“If all goes well, I won’t,” Diana replied. She looked at Zephyr. “You said the transformation isn’t meant to be permanent?”

Zephyr nodded. In the firelight, his face was a mask of light and shadow, making it difficult to interpret his expression.

“The ritual is never without risk,” he said. “That’s why it isn’t performed except in direst need. But according to our oral histories, some of the Thunderbirds’ chosen were able to ride the storm without being lost.”

“But not all,” Blaise said. “You didn’t. What went wrong?”

Zephyr stared down at his clasped hands. Even with his uncle sitting on one side, Diana on the other, he seemed painfully alone. Blaise’s fingertips ached to touch him.

“I didn’t have anyone to hold me to this world,” he said. “The ritual is in two halves, you see. The supplicant must go alone to a high place, but their community is supposed to gather while they climb. Family, friends, elders. People who love you, and who you love.”

“Pack,” Fenrir rumbled.

“Yes, I suppose you could call it that.” Zephyr laced his fingers together, like a net. “You need people who connect you to this world. So you can stay grounded when you open yourself to the lightning. So that the storm doesn’t sweep you away entirely.”

“But you had people who cared about you,” Edith said. “I suppose Buck didn’t know, but why didn’t your parents do the other half of the ritual?”

“They were both thunderkin too,” Zephyr replied. “People with thunderkin blood can’t anchor each other. It would be like tying one kite to another, and letting them both go into a tornado. The Thunderbirds would have taken all of us, and then we’d all have been lost.”

“Zephyr.” Buck narrowed his eyes at his nephew. “There is no motherloving way that your mom would ever have agreed to let you turn yourself into a giant glowing bird. Not if she could do it herself.”

Zephyr let out a hollow laugh. “You’re right. It was supposed to be her. By that point, Uncegila had nearly wiped out the Storm Society. As far as we knew, only myself and my parents were left. We knew we had to call the Wakinyan to fight the horned serpents. My mother was determined to be the one to do it.”

“Even though she knew that she would be lost,” Rory said. He was hunched on his log like a watchful lion, eyes reflecting green-gold in the firelight. “She was going to sacrifice herself to protect you.”

“To protect everyone.” Zephyr stared into the glowing fire. “And she said… she said she wouldn’t be lost, even without a community to anchor her. She said that nothing could ever stop her from coming back to us. To me.”

“But you couldn’t let her take that risk,” Edith said softly.

“I was fifteen, and scared, and stupid.” Zephyr’s clasped hands tightened. “I couldn’t bear to think of losing her. And I thought I was special. I thought all the warnings and restrictions didn’t apply to me. I thought I could control the storm, all on my own. So I snuck out one night, a few days before she was going to make the attempt. Without telling anyone. Without even saying goodbye.”

For the first time, Zephyr’s voice cracked. He fell silent, head bowing. Buck put an arm around him, awkwardly. The fire snapped and hissed.

“And that was the night the demons attacked.” Zephyr rubbed at his eyes, looking up again. “Maybe, if Uncegila hadn’t killed them, they would have found a way to call me back. Maybe they would have come after me, transforming themselves too. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. I was wrong. I wasn’t strong enough to ride the storm alone.”

“You didn’t have anyone to call you home,” Diana said. She took a deep breath. “But I do.”

Callum’s expression was tightly controlled, but Blaise had known him long enough to see the agony behind those green eyes. “Diana—”

“I trust you. I trust us. You’ll bring me back.” Diana squared her shoulders, turning back to Zephyr. “We need the Wakinyan. I want to attempt the ritual. Can you teach me?”

“Yes,” Zeph replied. There was an odd note to his voice. Blaise couldn’t work out whether he sounded relieved, or regretful. “And if we devoted every hour of every day to intense mediation and training—and if you turned out to be very talented—you might be ready in six years. Maybe five.”

Pure relief shattered Callum’s impassive facade. Diana’s face fell.

“We could be neck deep in horned serpents by then,” she said. “There’s no way to speed things up?”

“Diana, that would be fast.” Zephyr spread his hands. “It took me a lot longer than that, and I was raised from birth in our traditions. You can’t jump straight to the awakening ritual.”

“Not that I’m endorsing this plan in any way, but why not?” Seren asked. “I understand true mastery can only be obtained through time and dedication, but we are in dire need.”

“Right,” Joe said. “Fake it ’til you make it. In my experience, you can get a long way with nothing but flair and grit.”

“I have you as a guide,” Diana said to Zephyr. “Couldn’t I just copy you, even if I don’t really know why we have to do each step? Follow along by rote?”

Zephyr blew out his breath. “I don’t doubt your courage or your strength of will, Diana. But this is truly not something that you want to do without taking all proper precautions. You have to have learned how to open yourself to the spirits first. You must have full confidence that the Wakinyan will come when you call.”

“Why?” Darcy asked. “I mean, if the Thunderbirds don’t answer, then Diana’s just left standing there feeling silly, right?”

“No.” Zephyr’s expression was unreadable. “Because the ritual is very simple, in essence. You climb to a high place. You offer yourself to the storm. And then you jump.”

“Welp,” Joe said, into the silence that followed. “We’re screwed.”

“I can’t train someone else in time to stop Uncegila.” Zephyr’s gaze sought out Blaise. “But perhaps it isn’t necessary. I’ve felt… something, a few times. Maybe the Thunderbird isn’t truly gone. Or perhaps it’s possible for me to call it back.”

Blaise flinched as everyone else looked at her too. She had a sudden newfound sympathy for Edith’s aversion to direct eye contact. She hid behind her half-empty beer, aggressively ignoring the unwanted attention.

“Well,” Rory said, when the silence had become unbearable. “At least you’re awake now, Zephyr. Thunderbird or not, it’s still good to have you here.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ll do now that you’re back?” Edith asked. “If the Thunderbird really is gone, I mean.”

Zephyr hesitated. “I… did have some thoughts on that, actually. Though it’s just a possibility. I’m not sure I should mention it yet. And of course, it’s only if no one has any objections.”

“For the love of dog, kid, stop beating around the bush and spit it out.” At Zephyr’s side, Buck folded his arms, glaring round indiscriminately. “Zeph’s thinking of joining the crew. Anyone got a problem with that?”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Edith’s hands fluttered in excitement. “Of course you should join.”

“I second the motion!” Joe fist-punched the air. “All in favor?”

Buck rolled his eyes as every hand shot up. “What do you think this is, a motherloving democracy? I wasn’t calling for a vote. I’ll make the final decision, thank you very much. He still has to pass training and the fitness tests.”

“If I could manage that, I’m sure Zephyr can,” Seren said, with a small smile. She gave Zephyr a slight bow. “I’d be happy to help you train.”

Even Callum was smiling. “We all will.”

Alone in the circle, Blaise sat frozen. The babble of congratulations and enthusiasm washed around her, but she barely heard it.

To see Zephyr every day… to work with him, eat with him, train with him… to have him there at her side, and never, ever touch…

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do this.

The fire snarled higher, flames clawing at the sky. Through the whirl of sparks, she realized that Zephyr was watching her.

The rest of the squad might as well not have existed. He paid no heed to the overlapping congratulations and offers of help. His dark gaze rested on her steadily, like she was the only person in the world.

“No,” Zephyr said—not loudly, but in a clear tone that cut through all the other voices. He looked around at the squad. “Like I said, it was just an idea. A passing thought. I appreciate your kind offer, but no. I won’t be joining your crew.”