by Zoe Chant
I’m his mate.
She could tell the moment that Wystan came properly awake, because he glanced down and flushed as he realized how closely they were embracing. He cleared his throat, releasing her at last.
“My apologies.” He rubbed at his eyes. “That was not a pleasant way to awaken. I suppose it’s too much to hope that there might be tea?”
“Just caffeinated hot sauce, I’m afraid.” Blaise handed him a breakfast box. “Joe did get pancakes, though.”
Wystan flashed a slight smile at the sea dragon. “In that case, all is forgiven.”
Her own box was rather the worse for wear after Wystan’s surprise tackle, but at least it hadn’t gone the way of the coffee mug. In the space of time it took her to finish the last of her breakfast, Wystan had wolfed down the entirety of his and was looking more himself again.
Unfortunately. She couldn’t help feeling a little regretful as he reassembled that impenetrable wall of reserved courtesy as though putting on a suit of armor. The way he’d leaped to her defense like that, ready to protect her with his life…she was no romantic, but she couldn’t deny that it had been just a little thrilling.
No risk of him forgetting himself and sweeping her into his arms again, alas. He was keeping a hesitant, uncertain distance from her, as though he’d glimpsed her at a party and was now trying to work out if he’d actually met her before. She felt just as awkward. Knowing that they were soulmates only made things worse.
Seeking an excuse to avoid looking at Wystan, she watched the rest of the hotshot crew as they went about their morning routine. A few firefighters were yawning and grumbling, clearly dragging their feet, but most were moving about with brisk efficiency despite the early hour. She’d seen enough fire crews to be able to tell that this was a well-oiled team. Given the dangerous nature of the work they did, they had to be. Careless hotshots didn’t last long…one way or another.
She caught sight of Rory and Edith, loading up a truck with a pile of gear—MacCleods and Pulaskis, the specialist hand tools used to cut back vegetation and scrape fire lines through wilderness. Even amidst the practiced discipline of the rest of the crew, their coordination stood out. Edith tossed tools to Rory without turning around; he caught them without looking, stowing each one in the back of the truck just in time to be ready for the next.
So that’s what a real mated couple looks like. It was like watching a pair of circus jugglers. They moved like a single pair of hands, in perfect unison. As she watched, Edith stood up, reaching out to load the last tool into the truck herself. Rory caught the MacCleod’s long wooden handle, tugging Edith close enough to steal a kiss. Even at a distance, the love between the pair was obvious.
She snuck a sideways glance at Wystan, trying to imagine them having that sort of deep, wordless intimacy. He was watching Edith and Rory too, his face in profile to her. It was hard to tell behind his ice-wall reserve, but she thought there was a hint of wistfulness about his eyes.
That’s what he wants. She remembered his insistence on more than a one night stand, how hard he’d fought to get through her deflections. Maybe he already did feel that way about her.
So how do I feel about him?
“Candice! There you are!”
Bethany hurried up to the group, trailing curious glances from the surrounding hotshot crew. Fenrir paced at her side, his yellow service vest bright against his midnight fur. He was moving a little stiffly, but other than that there was no sign of his ordeal from the night before.
It was a relief to have an excuse to squash her new, messy, and confusing thoughts into a box at the back of her head, where she didn’t have to look at them. Here at least was something she understood.
“Hey,” Candice greeted Bethany. She went down on one knee, ruffling Fenrir’s thick fur. “Hiya, big guy. What are you doing coming into work? Even if you’re feeling better, you should take it easy for a few days.”
*No time, Sun Bitch.*
She jumped at the deep, growling voice. She hadn’t heard it with her ears. The words were just there, in her head, the same way as Flash’s pictures.
*Sun Bitch always heard me. Just not denying it anymore.* Fenrir’s copper eyes met hers. She could see amusement in them, as clearly as if he was human. *Have sharp senses, for a two-legs.*
“Sorry. I didn’t have much choice but to bring him along.” Bethany glared at the hellhound in exasperation. “He’s too big for any of the dog cages, and when I tried to put him in the horse trailer he just sat down and refused to move. He’s definitely got a mind of his own, this one. I hope he’s better behaved when he’s at work.”
Blaise grinned, her brown eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. “Not really. Our Superintendent keeps threatening to send him to obedience school.”
Fenrir showed what he thought of that suggestion by curling his lip just far enough to reveal inch-long fangs.
Giving Fenrir a last pat, Candice straightened up. “Well, time to go to work. No matter what else is going on, someone still has to scoop the kitty litter.”
“That wasn’t why I came to find you.” Bethany thrust a crumpled sheet of paper at her. With a familiar jolt of adrenaline, Candice recognized it as a call out notice. “We’ve got an emergency.”
Chapter 17
There were few things, Wystan was discovering, more excruciatingly awkward than being stuck in a vehicle with someone to whom you had recently made a passionate declaration of eternal devotion.
Uncomfortable silence filled Candice’s Jeep, thicker than the smoke outside. A double horse trailer rattled behind the vehicle, jouncing over the rutted backcountry roads. The bulky yellow shape of A-squad’s transport led the way. Wystan had no doubt that the rest of his squad were enjoying a much more comfortable journey—and not just because of the crew vehicle’s superior suspension.
Candice kept her eyes on the tail lights as though she was navigating New York rush hour. Wystan tried to pretend equally intense interest in the passing scenery, but he kept finding his gaze drifting back to her. With the scarred side of her face toward him, it was impossible to judge her expression.
Flash had grudgingly allowed herself to be put in a blanket-padded animal cage for the journey. There had been no question about leaving her behind. No matter how dangerous the wildfire to which they were headed, Flash was infinitely safer with the whole squad rather than left behind at camp.
Now her horn prodded him in the back of his neck through the wire partition separating the front cab from the rear of the vehicle. An impatient flurry of yellow sparkles swirled through his mind.
Candice’s mouth twitched, suggesting that Flash had sent her the same image too. “I’m pretty sure that was the telepathic equivalent of ‘Are we there yet?’”
“Some things are the same no matter what species.” Wystan twisted around in his seat to address the unicorn. “Soon, little one. Please be patient a while longer.”
Flash snorted, but settled down again. One ear swiveled from Wystan to Candice and back again. She sent a peculiar image of a wall of ice running down the center of the vehicle, himself on one side, Candice on the other. A wave of worry and fear accompanied the picture.
“We’re not fighting,” he found himself saying simultaneously with Candice. She caught his eye, her reserve finally cracking to reveal a glimpse of humor beneath.
“I feel we’ve skipped several important steps in this relationship,” she said. “We seem to have jumped straight to agreeing to stay together for the sake of the kids.”
His heart gave a great leap, but he managed to keep control of his expression. “I…did not want to presume that this was a relationship. Given the events of last night.”
“Yeah, that whole saving my life thing was a real turn-off,” she agreed, deadpan. “And you only turn into a unicorn. Now if you’d turned into something sexy, like a skunk or a mudskipper…” She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.
A laugh burst from him, along with, “I lo
ve you.”
He hadn’t meant to say it. He froze.
“Yeah,” Candice returned her eyes to the road, but there was a new kind of thoughtfulness to her face. “I’m beginning to get that. Crazy as it seems.”
His shoulders relaxed a fraction. He still felt as though he was picking his way through bear-traps, but now at least there was the faintest glimmer of hope lighting his path.
“You constantly surprise me,” he said.
“Ha. Look who’s talking.” Candice drove in silence for a few moments. “You know, in a way I’m relieved to find out about the whole one-true-mate thing. At least it explains why you were so weirdly into me right from the start. Now I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“You kissed me before you knew, though. Surely you didn’t still suspect that I harbored some nefarious agenda at that point?”
“Nefarious agenda?” Candice repeated in an incredulous tone. “Okay, now I’m beginning to think this soulmate thing must be based purely on hormones. No dating app in the world would have matched the two of us up.”
“But fate did. And I for one am very glad of it.”
She huffed, but the hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. “You big romantic. Well, I guess opposites really do attract.”
“Apparently,” he said, gazing at the strong, confident, extraordinary woman next to him. “Allow me to rephrase. Did you truly fear I was trying to, er, swindle you in some way?”
Candice shrugged. She rubbed at her right wrist, above the bandaged rat bite. He had the impression it was a habitual gesture, and one that she wasn’t even aware of doing.
“Let’s just say life has left me with a healthy sense of caution,” she said. “If something looks too good to be true, it is.”
He watched her fingers trace the rough burn scars running up her arm. “And how does you and me look?”
She shot him a troubled glance. “Perfect.”
Before he could think of an answer to that one, she spun the steering wheel, turning onto a narrow dirt track. “This is it, according to the emergency call. Helping Hooves Pony Camp.”
Wystan peered through the windscreen. Flecks of ash fell like light snow, dusting the low dormitories and rail fences of the summer camp. A thick pall of smoke hung over the scene, turning what should have been bright mid-morning to a dim, ominous twilight. He couldn’t yet see the approaching wildfire through the forest, but it had to be close.
Blaise had already parked the hotshot crew vehicle outside a long building that had to be the stable block. As soon as Candice brought the Jeep to a halt, Wystan jumped out, fast enough to get around and hold her door open for her. She shot him another of those cynical looks—Really?—but accepted a hand down. Flash needed no assistance, teleporting to his side in a flare of white light.
The rest of the squad was gathered around Rory, who was talking into his radio. As Wystan and Candice approached, Rory clicked the device off.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” Rory said, clipping the radio back to his belt. “Good news is that the local sheriffs confirm they’ve got all the people out. All the staff and kids are safe, so we don’t have to go looking for any stragglers.”
“What’s the bad news?” Candice asked.
Rory grimaced. “The spotter helicopter says the fire is bearing down on us fast. They’re advising that we abandon the rescue and retreat now. Blaise?”
Blaise had the tight, fixed expression she always wore when they were this close to live wildfire. Someone who didn’t know her might have mistaken it for nerves. Wystan knew better. She was fighting to control her inner animal, holding it in check with iron discipline as she drew on its power just enough to be able to sense the oncoming flames.
“It’ll be tight,” she reported. “But I think we’ve got time to complete a line to protect this area.”
Rory nodded. “I’m not going to risk our lives, but if there’s a chance we can save the main buildings, I want to try for it. According to the info, this charity helps a lot of kids. Losing their main facilities would devastate them.”
Joe clapped him on the shoulder. “We got this, bro. No problem.”
“Assuming no interruptions,” Callum added, looking even grimmer than usual.
“I’m relying on you for that, Cal.” Rory turned to Candice, his jaw set and serious. “This fire is too far from the main blaze to have been started by an unlucky gust of wind. Looking at the location and timing, I’m pretty certain this is the Thunderbird’s work. It was heading this way after we drove it off last night. If it really is hunting the Nightmare, they could both still be in the area. If I give the order to clear out, move. Even if that means abandoning the horses.”
Candice folded her arms across her chest. “You do your job. I’ll do mine.”
*I’ll make sure she’s safe,* Wystan sent to Rory privately. *If I have to hoist her on my horn and carry her out.*
Rory pressed his lips together, clearly fighting down a smile at the mental image. “All right then,” he said out loud. “Wys, you’re with Candice. Everyone else on me. Let’s get this done, A-squad style.”
Wystan grabbed his own gear out of the crew vehicle while the others jogged toward the tree line. As he shrugged into his backpack, he noticed Candice staring after the squad, a worried frown creasing her forehead.
She dropped her voice as though worried they might overhear her. “Are they really gonna be able to get a fire line all the way around these buildings in time?”
“Yes,” Wystan said, simply.
Candice looked less than convinced. “I know they’re magic and all, but they’re still just one squad.”
“In this situation, the rest of the crew would just slow us down. On our own, we don’t have to hide our abilities.” Wystan jerked his head in the direction of the squad, who’d now reached the edge of the ranch clearing, where long dry grass gave way to scraggly pines. “Which means we can do this.”
Chapter 18
Dragons, it turned out, were big.
Candice’s jaw dropped as she stared up at the creature that had, until a second ago, been Joe. His horned head towered above the roofs of the buildings, midnight blue scales glittering like thousands of star sapphires. His sleek, serpentine body was longer than a school bus—and that wasn’t even including his tail.
She would have thought that a creature so vast, so clearly adapted for the sea, would have flopped like a beached whale on land. But Joe moved with surprising grace, flowing forward on four sturdy legs. His huge webbed feet dug into the ground, uprooting an entire pine tree. With a casual flick, the sea dragon tossed the trunk aside.
“Okay,” Candice said, over the splintering sounds of Joe going through the edge of the forest like a wrecking ball. “I change my question. Why did the rest of you bother to come along?”
Wystan chuckled under his breath as he held open the stable yard gate for her. “Joe’s as effective as a bulldozer—but only as effective as a bulldozer. There’s a reason we have hotshots and other hand crews, you know. To make a barrier the fire can’t cross, one has to dig down to bare soil. That’s what the rest of the squad will be doing now.”
A flicker of orange light made her heart stop in her chest. She grabbed at Wystan’s arm, dragging him off balance. “Fire! Wystan, we have to run, Blaise was wrong and it’s here already!”
Wystan patted her hand, not looking in the least alarmed. “That’s just Fenrir. Like I said, they have to clear the vegetation down to bare soil. Sometimes, the fastest way to fight fire is with fire.”
Pulse thudding, Candice stared through a gap between buildings. She caught a glimpse of a black-furred shape trotting along the trail of devastation left by the sea dragon. It looked like a dog…but one with flaming eyes and jaws that glowed like the entrance to hell itself.
“And to think I tickled his tummy,” she said weakly, as the creature breathed out a white-hot jet of fire that instantly turned grass and snapped branches to ash. �
�Uh. Is it just me, or is he a lot…bigger?”
“That’s his true form. We’re fortunate he can tone it down somewhat. It was hard enough working out a plausible breed to put on his dog license.” Wystan tapped her lightly on her shoulder. “Candice. Let Rory and the others deal with the fire. We have other concerns.”
The gentle reminder snapped her out of her awestruck trance. She shook herself, turning back to the business at hand. “Right. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Frantic whinnies and neighs came from the barn, along with the crash of hooves kicking at stall doors. Whether it was the smoke in the air or the legendary creatures outside, the horses were on the edge of panic.
Candice hurried to the nearest stall, which was occupied by a small dapple-gray mare with a pale, silky mane. A polished brass plate on her stall door read: Princess. From the loving crayon drawings covering the wall nearby, the mare was obviously a favorite with the kids.
Right now, Princess looked more like a wild mustang than a placid and much-loved pet. Foam flecked her lips, the whites showing all round her dark eyes as her hooves hammered at her stall.
“Shh, shh.” Candice clucked her tongue soothingly, reaching up to grab a handful of the mare’s mane. With the other, she fumbled in a pocket for a syringe containing a mild equine sedative. “There’s a brave girl. Everything’s going to be all right. We’re going to get you all out.”
To Candice’s surprise, the mare settled before she’d even gotten lid off the syringe, let alone stuck it into the mare’s neck. The mare stopped kicking at the door, although her hooves still stamped nervously. All her attention seemed to be fixed on Candice’s knees.
Bemused, Candice followed the line of the horse’s stare, and found herself looking down at Flash. The little unicorn pressed close against her leg, ears flicking constantly in the direction of the open barn door. Despite Flash’s obvious agitation, she seemed to be having a calming effect on the mare.