Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 7

Zephyr emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel, and froze.

“Uncle?” he called, as softly as he could manage.

Buck’s voice drifted up from downstairs. “Yeah?”

“Why are there unicorns on your bed?”

He heard a muffled, indecipherable curse, followed by heavy footsteps pounding up the wooden stairs. A second later, Buck appeared in the doorway with an armful of bedding and a deep scowl. One of the unicorns pricked up its ears, letting out a high, happy whicker.

“I was wondering why there was glitter all over the couch.” Dumping his burden on the end of the bed, Buck fixed the unexpected visitors with a ferocious glare. “Have you two been sneaking in here every night that I’ve been gone?”

The unicorns exchanged distinctly guilty glances. There were two of them; one about the size of a yearling deer, the other much smaller. From their coltish legs and stubby horns, Zephyr assumed they were both juveniles. Then again, for all he knew, they could be a hundred years old. He was hardly an expert on unicorns.

Buck folded his arms. “And I suppose it’s a complete coincidence that all the Pop Tarts have mysteriously gone missing? Anyone have anything they want to tell me about that?”

Each unicorn promptly pointed its horn at the other.

“Er,” Zephyr ventured. “You seem remarkably unsurprised by this situation.”

Buck let out a long-suffering sigh. “Honestly, I’m only surprised that the whole damn herd isn’t in here. Motherloving unicorns. Let them in once, and you can never get rid of the damn things again. Worse than cockroaches.”

Equine faces weren’t built for expression, but somehow the unicorns managed to turn matching looks of deep betrayal on Buck. The smaller one drooped, her head hanging.

Buck sighed again, even more deeply, and reached out to ruffle the smaller unicorn’s mane. “It’s all right, Leaf. I’m not really mad. I didn’t tell you girls not to come round while I was away, after all. At least you and Flash wipe your hooves and tidy up after yourselves, unlike half the motherloving rabble I have to call crew.”

The little unicorn—Leaf, Zephyr presumed—perked up, nuzzling at Buck’s hand. The bigger one, Flash, snorted and poked Buck with her horn, demanding a share of attention too.

Zephyr watched his uncle scratch behind Flash’s ears. “I remember a unicorn herd that had warded off part of a mountain, hiding it from the human world. Is that where these two are from?”

“Yep. Whole herd ended up moving to Thunder Mountain. Wasn’t much left for them back in California, after…” Buck hesitated, flashing him a sidelong look. “Well, you know.”

He did. He’d been there, after all.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the young unicorns. “I’m the one who started the fire. It’s my fault that you lost your home.”

Little Leaf stood up, hopping off the bed. Standing on all four tiny hooves, she barely came up to his knee. She pawed at his foot until he finally got the hint and kneeled down so that they were face to face. Her eyes were a pale purple-pink, like crocuses in spring. She regarded him solemnly for a moment, then, very gently, brushed her velvet muzzle against his cheek.

“Leaf’s right,” Buck said gruffly. “Blame the goddamn demons, not yourself. From what the crew told me, the unicorns had a literal hole to hell smack in the middle of their metaphorical living room.”

Zephyr nodded, remembering how the stench of corruption had drawn the Thunderbird far outside its normal range. “Whatever magic the unicorns used to protect their home had the side effect of thinning the barriers between worlds. Uncegila was able to send her brood to exploit that crack, even though it was a long way from her usual sphere of influence. The whole area was tainted by their touch.”

“There you go.” Buck touched him on the shoulder, briefly. “Place had to burn. All forest does, sooner or later. Don’t blame yourself for doing what had to be done.”

Zephyr stroked Leaf’s cloud-soft fur. She leaned into his hand, eyes half closing in pleasure. His uncle had a point. But still…

“If I’d been able to control the Thunderbird, I might have been able to find another way,” he said. “I would at least have been able to talk to the unicorns, help them evacuate, before I burned the place to the ground. I’m sorry for the trauma I caused your people, Leaf, Flash. If there’s anything I can do to help now—”

“Cats on a cracker, boy, don’t go giving them ideas,” Buck snapped, as both unicorns’ ears pricked up. “These two are bad enough when the only leverage they’ve got is weaponized cuteness. Let them realize that you feel guilty about barbecuing their ancestral land, and the shameless opportunists will have you fetching snacks and braiding their tails from now until the heat-death of the universe.”

Flash let out a whinny that sounded an awful lot like a snicker.

“Anyway, enough chat.” Buck flipped his hand, shooing Flash off the bed. “Zeph needs to rest, kids. Time to break up this slumber party.”

Leaf stomped a hoof, ears flattening. She jabbed her horn at the bedside cabinet, then looked at Buck expectantly.

Buck shook his head. “Sorry, Leaf. Haven’t got time tonight.”

The baby unicorn stuck out her lower lip, looking remarkably like a petulant toddler. Her horn lit up. Zephyr blinked as the cabinet drawer slid open without anyone touching it. A book floated out, rising into the air.

“Oh no you don’t.” Buck caught the book, thrusting it back down. He leaned on the cabinet, holding the drawer shut. “I mean it, kids. No story tonight. Off you go. And no more teleporting in here without warning. Zeph doesn’t need you two popping out of nowhere and bugging him for Froot Loops.”

Leaf immediately put on a wounded puppy-dog look. She nudged her older sibling. Flash also adopted a winsome expression, big purple eyes fixing on Buck in mute appeal.

Buck returned the look stonily. “Don’t give me that. You’re motherloving magical creatures, not house pets. Go frolic in the moonbeams like nature intended.”

The unicorns managed, miraculously, to look even more tragic. Zephyr could have sworn that Leaf actually produced a single perfect, glimmering tear.

Buck held the glare for a beat longer, then sagged. “All right. You can still come round sometimes. Just not every night, okay? And don’t zap straight into the bedroom, Flash. You’re big enough to mind your manners. Put that horn to good use for once and knock on the front door next time, you hear?”

Flash huffed, but nodded. The unicorn’s horn lit up, bright enough that Zephyr reflexively shielded his eyes. When he looked again, both unicorns had vanished.

He raised an amused eyebrow at his uncle. “You read bedtime stories to baby unicorns?”

Buck flushed a little. He busied himself brushing off the bedcovers, smoothing out the dent where the unicorns had been. “Leaf sometimes has trouble getting to sleep. So Flash started bringing her round, and I’d read stuff like Journal of Modern Firefighting out loud. Tedious enough to knock anyone out. Stop smirking at me like that.”

“I’m not smirking.” Doing his best to keep a straight face, Zephyr wandered over to the bedside cabinet. “Journal of Modern Firefighting? Really?”

“I’m the Superintendent. I have to stay up to date with all the theoretical stuff, so that the crew doesn’t end up in the middle of a spectacularly non-theoretical screw-up.” Buck shook out a sleeping bag, laying it down next to the bed. “Every season I have a stack of dull as ditchwater literature to get through. Since I have to read the papers anyway, I might as well do it out loud.”

“Right.”

“Doesn’t make any difference to me whether someone’s listening or not.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

“Nothing sentimental about it.”

“I didn’t say there was.”

“Just doing my job.” Buck cleared his throat. “Which, of course, sometimes involves certain mundane activities that the rest of the crew don’t need to know about.”

“Like reading technical journals?”

Buck shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, how I choose to spend my free time is my own business.”

“Of course it is. No one could doubt your dedication to your job. I do have one question, though.”

Buck eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

Zephyr opened the drawer. He held up the book that Leaf had briefly levitated. “Exactly what wildfire containment strategies have you learned from Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Grand Galloping Gala?”

Buck groaned, covering his face with a hand. “Please don’t tell the motherloving shifters. It’s hard enough to keep them in line as it is. Can’t have them thinking I’ve gone soft.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Suppressing a smile, Zephyr hid the book away again. “I suppose there’s no chance that I can persuade you to let me take the floor.”

“None whatsoever.” Buck kicked off his boots, stretching out on top of the sleeping bag. “I’m a hotshot. If it isn’t actively on fire, I can sleep on it.”

“I still feel guilty, kicking you out of your own bed like this.”

“Docs said someone should keep an eye on you for a few nights, just to be safe. We’ll move you into a cabin later, when you’re feeling better. Couple of them are empty, what with some of the crew wanting to live off site this season.” Buck pulled a blanket over himself. “Turn out the light, would you?”

Zeph did so, and got into bed himself. It felt unnervingly soft and yielding, like sinking into quicksand. He forced his muscles to relax, focusing on the soft, unfamiliar sounds of Buck’s breathing.

Sleep. Right. I know how to do this. You just close your eyes, and…

“You’ve either got a pea under that mattress, or you’re about to pee through it,” Buck growled from the floor. “For dog’s sake, stop spinning like a chicken on a spit.”

“Sorry. I’m having difficulty getting to sleep.”

A grunt. “Guess that’s understandable, given the coma and all.”

That wasn’t the reason, but Zephyr couldn’t explain that. Especially not to Buck.

He tried to slow his breathing. He counted heartbeats. Nothing worked. His mind stubbornly clung to consciousness, with the tenacity of a rat in a shipwreck.

“You really change your mind about joining the crew?” Buck said without warning. “You seemed pretty keen to sign up earlier. Even the motherloving shifters thought it was a good idea.”

Zephyr lay back, resting his head on a crooked arm. He stared up at the ceiling. “Not all of them.”

“Ah.” He heard the rustle of Buck sitting up. “So this is about Blaise.”

“You saw how she reacted when you mentioned the prospect.” In the darkness of the room, he saw her again; that little jerk of shock, the way her hands had clenched on her beer bottle. The brief flash of horror in her eyes, that had struck him like lightning. “She hid it well, but she wasn’t happy.”

“Well, it’s pretty clear you get her animal all hot and bothered.” There was something odd about Buck’s tone, but Zephyr couldn’t put his finger on it. “Doesn’t necessarily mean she doesn’t want you around.”

“Uncle, I tried to hit her with lightning. Multiple times.”

“Mmm. From what I’ve seen, that practically counts as foreplay for motherloving shifters.”

“Uncle Buck!”

“Just saying.”

“Not this again.” Zephyr had an intense urge to stuff his head under the pillow. “For the last time, Blaise is not secretly lusting after me. And I’m not joining the crew. I have other responsibilities. I can’t run away from them, no matter how much I might wish that… things were different.”

A long, long silence.

“That sounds,” Buck said at last, and there was an edge to his words, “like a man thinking about doing something really, really stupid. Like jumping off a mountain.”

Zephyr stared into the darkness, listening to the silence in his soul.

“I won’t be reckless,” he said at last. “I’ll take things slowly. I won’t take that final leap unless I have good reason to believe that the Thunderbird will catch me. But there’s no one else. I have to try.”

“What if I asked you not to?”

“You risk your life for the sake of strangers. You always have. Would you quit firefighting, if I asked?”

Buck gusted out a long, defeated sigh. “I always did see too much of myself in you. Except for the bone-headed stubbornness. That you get from your mom.”

Despite everything, Zephyr smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Hmph.” The sleeping bag rustled as Buck lay down again. “Will you promise me one thing, at least?”

“I can promise to be careful, but I can’t promise not to attempt the ritual at all. There are too many lives at stake.”

“Not that.” Buck fell silent, for so long that Zephyr wondered if he’d gone to sleep. “You said you didn’t have anyone who could call you back. That’s why you got lost, before.”

Zephyr winced, anticipating what was coming next. “You can’t be my anchor, Uncle. You’re thunderkin too, even though you’ve always rejected that side of your heritage. If you tried to hold me to this world, it would only result in us both being lost.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask. If you do ever decide to go ahead with this damn idiotic thing… talk to Blaise first, okay?”

“Blaise?” Zephyr propped himself up on one elbow, trying to make out his uncle’s profile. “Why Blaise?”

“Just… because.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that. Blaise has made it very clear how she feels. I’m not going to bother her without good reason.”

Buck muttered something that Zephyr was fairly certain wasn’t censored. “Look, you said you needed connections. Diana resisted the Thunderbird, thanks to Callum. Maybe Blaise could help you do the same thing.”

“They’re married. And have a child. Blaise doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Buck said under his breath. He cleared his throat. “You notice how all the other shifters on the crew are paired up?”

Zephyr blinked at the abrupt topic change. “Yes? So?”

“You might want to talk to them sometime. About what it was like when they met their other half. How they knew that person was the one. Their soulmate.”

“Soulmate?” Zephyr goggled at Buck’s shadowed form. “Since when do you believe in soulmates?”

Buck growled something indistinct. He rolled away, pulling his blanket over his head with an air of finality. “Never mind. Forget it. Good night, Zeph.”

“Good night.” Zephyr lay back down, eyes open, staring up into the dark. “Uncle?”

“Yeah?”

“Sleep well.”

A muffled grunt. “You too. Sweet dreams.”

Exhaustion dragged at his limbs. Sleep tugged at him, insistent and irrefutable. He took a deep breath, as though about to dive into deep water, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Clouds above. Clouds below. Nothing under his bare feet.

Silence.

A sound, more felt than heard. A deep, distant rumble.

Getting louder.

Getting closer.

* * *

Zephyr jerked awake, slamming back into his body so hard that he jack-knifed upright. He gasped, drenched in cold sweat, every muscle knotted tight.

“Zeph?” Buck said, sounding groggy. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he managed to force out. His lungs burned in his chest, as though he’d actually been breathing that thin, cold air. His feet were numb. “It’s all right, Uncle. Go back to sleep.”

“Just a dream,” Buck mumbled, voice already slurring. “It was just a dream, Zephyr. You’re home. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yes,” he whispered, his head still ringing with the sound of thunder. “It will.”