by Zoe Chant
Her hands beat against her thighs with agitation. She clenched her fists, trying to get a grip on herself. It was just her hypersensitivity that made the wind sound like vast claws scraping at the shingled roof. Just her atypical brain wiring, generating invisible monsters out of the storm of sensory overload. There wasn’t really anything out there, trying to get in—
A blinding flash of white light made her shriek, dropping to the floor and covering her head with her hands. The wooden support pillars groaned as the sturdy platform lurched sickeningly.
Lightning, Edith realized, her ears ringing. It must have been a direct strike on the tower, but fortunately the lightning rod on the roof seemed to have done its job, earthing the strike safely. Nonetheless, her hair snapped with static, and sparks showered from the radio equipment. No chance now of calling for help now…even if anyone would have believed her.
Edith squeezed her eyes tight shut, clamping her hands over her ears and rocking back and forth. Just a storm. Just a thunderstorm. Not a monster. Monsters aren’t real…
Something soft and wet brushed against the back of her hand. Edith screamed, recoiling so hard she fell flat on her butt. The hare leaped away from her flailing arms, dashing back to the far side of the room. It fixed her with black button eyes, quivering.
“Oh,” Edith gasped. “Sorry.”
Somehow, it was easier to be brave when there was someone to be brave for—even if it was just an animal. She took a gulping breath, trying to get herself back under control. Her entire body felt as though it was filled with bees, but she made herself hold still. She didn’t want to terrify the poor creature any further.
“It’s okay,” she said, voice shaking. “It’s just a storm. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The hare’s shivering stilled. One ear slowly cocked forward, followed by the other. Its tiny tongue darted out, licking at its muzzle. Tentatively, it crept forward, never taking its eyes off her.
“That’s it,” Edith said, focusing on the animal in a desperate attempt to ignore the storm screaming all around. “It’s okay, little guy. We’re safe here.”
A strange red light glittered deep in its eyes, like reflected flames. Its lips wrinkled back, exposing teeth as sharp as chisels. It was a peculiarly predatory gesture. If she hadn’t known better, she would have called it a snarl.
Then it leaped for her throat.
Chapter 2
Rory MacCormick stared out the windscreen of the hotshot crew truck at the thick plume of smoke billowing from the crest of the mountain.
In the incident description, the dispatcher had made it sound like some hysterical firewatcher had mistaken morning mist for smoke. From the man’s weary, annoyed tone, he clearly hadn’t thought it could be anything serious.
“I am going to call that stuck-up, self-important, incompetent excuse of a dispatcher,” Rory growled, “and make him eat his own radio.”
“No idle threat, coming from you,” Blaise murmured. She kept her eyes on the road, handling the twisting mountain track with smooth skill. “Looks we’ll be getting some action rather sooner than anticipated.”
Rory grimaced. He glanced in the rear view mirror at the rest of the squad. Callum was studying the rising smoke with his usual cool, unreadable detachment. No worries there; Cal was a veteran firefighter, even if most of his experience had been on an engine crew rather than out here in the wilderness.
Joe and Wystan were another matter. The two rookies pressed against the other window, broad shoulders wedged against each other as they stared in open fascination at the orange glow glimmering through the trees. It was the first time either of them had seen a real wildfire.
Rory looked back at Blaise, pitching his voice low. “How fast is it spreading?”
Her brown eyes went abstracted for a moment, looking at something that only she could see. Her lips compressed into a thin, worried line. “Faster than it should, given the conditions. I don’t like it.”
Rory didn’t have Blaise’s special talents, but he felt the same way. Years fighting wildfires across America had taught him to listen to his instincts, and right now every one of them was screaming at him. It should have been too wet, too early in the season, for the forest to catch so easily. Something wasn’t right.
He drummed his fingertips on the dash, staring unhappily at the smoke column. It was noticeably thicker than it had been just a few minutes ago.
It was too risky. If he’d had the entire Thunder Mountain Hotshot crew with him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to go in…but he only had his own squad. And nearly half of his firefighters were untested, rookies. He couldn’t put his friends in danger.
“We’re not equipped for this.” Rory reached for the satellite phone on the dashboard. “I’m going to call the control center. See if there’s anyone else in the area.”
“There isn’t,” Callum said with calm certainty.
Joe sang a few short, staccato notes that sounded like a snatch of Vivaldi and was actually a particularly vile curse in sea dragon language. He switched back to English. “You sure there’s no one else we can foist this on, Cal?”
Callum gave him a flat stare, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer. Pegasus shifters had the power to locate people, and Cal was more sensitive than most. If he said there wasn’t anyone around, there really wasn’t.
Joe slumped down in his seat, crossing his arms. “We’re not even meant to be on the clock yet. This was supposed to be our last farewell to freedom, before we spend an entire summer choking on our own sweat. Can’t we have one weekend of beer and bonding without something spontaneously igniting?”
“You’re the one who wanted this particular mountain for our camping trip,” Wystan observed mildly. “You were very insistent, as I recall.”
“Yeah, well,” Joe muttered, sinking even lower. “That’s me. Fate’s bitch.”
“Well, fortunately we’re here.” Blaise shifted up a gear, flooring the accelerator. “And we’re the only crew that’s here, so we’re going to have to handle it. We may not have fought a live fire together before, but we’ve trained for this.”
“Right.” Wystan leaned forward, bracing himself between the two front seats as the truck bounced over the rutted road. “Trust us, Rory. This is what you recruited us to do, after all.”
Rory blew out his breath. “I don’t like taking you all into an unknown situation.”
Blaise’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “Let’s not tiptoe around it. You mean you don’t like taking me into an unknown situation.”
An uncomfortable silence fell. Joe opened his mouth, then shut it again. Wystan made a vague, embarrassed gesture that could have signaled either agreement or denial. Callum was still studiously ignoring the rest of them, focused only on the distant fire.
“No, I don’t like it.” Rory didn’t try to hide his honest concern. “This could be a big one, Blaise. You going to be all right?”
“If I’m not,” she said tightly, never taking her eyes off the road, “I’ll tell you.”
He’d known her long enough to know it would be futile to argue. Blaise was even more stubborn than her father. All Rory could do was privately vow to keep an eye on her.
Anyway, he still had his last team member to check up on. Rory opened his mind, feeling down the pack bond.
*Fenrir?* he sent telepathically. *You keeping up?*
*Birdcat the one not keeping up.* Fenrir’s mental tone was faint. Rory had an impression of panting breath and burning muscles, the hellhound stretching himself to his full speed. *Metal man-box is slow. Am running ahead of the pack, scouting out the prey.*
“Rory.” Callum’s terse voice broke Rory’s concentration. The pegasus shifter was staring at the smoke column with even more intensity, his auburn eyebrows drawn down. “Look.”
Rory narrowed his eyes, focusing. Even when he wasn’t shifted, his vision was far better than an ordinary human’s; the distant smudge resolved
into pin-sharp detail. He could make out a tall, narrow structure built on the very top of the ridge, a little distance from the edge of the forest. He didn’t think the building was on fire itself yet, but thick black curtains of smoke curled around it.
Something about the way the smoke was moving struck him as odd. Even though it was a still, calm day down where they were, the top of the mountain seemed to be whipped by a storm. The smoke eddied in tight swirls, as though buffeted by cyclone winds.
For a split second, he saw something moving through the smog.
A dark, jagged shape…like the edge of a vast wing.
“Something’s up there,” Callum said.
Rory’s eyes burned. He didn’t dare blink. “I see it.”
“Oh, come on,” Joe said. “You can’t possibly see anything at this distance. It would have to be the size of a dragon.”
“No.” Callum’s emotionless voice was even flatter than normal. “Bigger.”
“Stop the car,” Rory said to Blaise.
They’d grown up together; she knew exactly what he was thinking, and he knew exactly how much she didn’t like it. “Rory, don’t be an idiot.”
Rory was already unbuckling his seat belt. “All of you, stay here,” he said, simultaneously sending the words telepathically so that Fenrir would hear too. “Don’t come any closer until I give the all clear.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Joe said. He struggled to free himself from his own harness, elbowing the other two in the ribs. “Of course we’re coming with you. Wys, you go with Rory. I’ll ride Cal.”
Callum did not look thrilled by this prospect.
“No,” Rory said firmly. “This isn’t up for debate. I’m going alone.”
“Rory, you can’t,” Wystan said, catching his arm. “Think. You hammered that point into us yourself, during training. Basic protocol, right? No one ever goes in alone. This is no different to a regular fire situation.”
“We’re a team, Rory.” Blaise hadn’t slowed down at all. “We stick together.”
*Pack hunts with the alpha,* Fenrir put in. *Otherwise no pack. Just lone wolves running in the same direction.*
Rory clenched his jaw in frustration. He didn’t have time for arguments or explanations. He hated having to do this, but his squad left him no choice.
“I said, stop the car.” Alpha power filled the command.
The truck fishtailed as Blaise involuntarily stomped on the brake. Yelped curses came from the back seat.
Even before the car slewed to a halt, Rory was opening the door. He leaned down to haul his gear out from under his seat. He was glad he was already wearing his turn outs—the fire resistant fabric wouldn’t do much to stop anything paranormal, but it would protect him from the wildfire itself.
“Stay here,” he ordered, still using the alpha voice. “Don’t move.”
All four of them froze in position. A telepathic whine came down the pack bond. None of them could speak, held by his command, but their eyes betrayed their furious resentment.
Rory bit down on an apology. Instead, he jumped down from the truck. He’d soothe his squad’s ruffled feathers—and fur—later.
Right now, he had to protect them. Whether they liked it or not.
Even at this distance, he could smell the smoke from the wildfire. Adrenaline surged through him at the familiar, bitter taste.
Turning his face to the sky, he gave himself up to his griffin.
His beast surged up from his soul, eager as ever to be released. Golden fur wrapped round him, his body shifting smoothly into his other form. With a single leap, he launched himself into the air.
Acrid smoke blew into his beak. His transparent second eyelids—just like an eagle’s—flicked automatically across to protect his sensitive eyes. He searched through the dark haze surrounding the lookout tower.
There!
He could make out strange, bright flickers in the swirling smog, like sparks of electricity crawling through a thundercloud. They illuminated a black-on-black shape, a darker shadow in the midst of the smoke. A winged silhouette, far larger than Rory’s own size.
It hovered like a vast bird of prey over a small figure on the ground. It was hard to tell from this distance, but Rory thought it was a woman, running hunched over as though carrying something.
From the way she never glanced up at the looming monster, he suspected that she couldn’t see it. Many supernatural creatures—including himself—were invisible to normal human sight. But some deep instinct must have told her that she was in danger. She was sprinting flat-out for the safety of the lookout tower, as pitch-black talons spread above her.
His griffin roared in his soul, filling him with instinctive need to protect and defend. A fierce shriek of challenge burst from his beak despite the choking smoke. Folding his wings, he arrowed toward the half-seen creature, every talon extended.
The shadowy shape rolled in mid-air, evading his attack. Rory had a brief, confused glimpse of jagged wings, midnight claws, a blank white eye burning with captive lightning—and then he was past it, plunging down through thinning cloud.
He snapped his wings open, barely managing to pull up before he hit the flat roof of the lookout tower. The tips of his golden pinions brushed against shingles as he turned to attack again.
The world went white.
*RORY!*
His squad’s frantic telepathic shout blasted through his mind as a hammer-blow of searing hot air knocked him across the sky. He tumbled beak over tail, completely disorientated. Only his cat-like reflexes kept him airborne at all.
With a twist that left his spine aching, he managed to right himself, a good fifty feet from the tower. Rising thermals from the smoldering ground fire steadied his wings. His ears rang as though he’d been walloped by a brick. His entire team yammered in his mind, a chaos of concern.
*I’M FINE,* he roared back. *Stay out of this!*
Sparks still snapped from the bent lightning rod rising from one corner of the lookout tower roof. It had saved his life, attracting the bolt that would otherwise have hit him dead-on. The churning clouds above the structure had gone black and dull, no longer seething with building electricity.
A chance!
This was his moment to strike, before the monster could summon the lightning again. Rory had no idea what sort of creature his unknown adversary might be, but he would bet his tail feathers that it needed time to build up a charge.
Of course, if he was wrong, his tail feathers would literally be toast.
He powered back toward the tower, cutting through the smoke like a knife. But his lion body and eagle wings were built for strength, not speed. Though he strained every muscle, his adversary was faster.
The smoke-shrouded creature spread its wings to full extent, shadowing the mountain. The massive pinions swept down with a sound like a thunderclap. Rory had to fight against a gust of wind as the creature shot upward.
*What was that?* Wystan exclaimed telepathically, echoed by a territorial snarl from Fenrir.
*I have no idea.* Rory slowed to a glide, watching the vast silhouette arc across the sky, trailing storm clouds. *But whatever it was, at least it’s thought better about sticking around.*
In the space of a few breaths, the unnatural winds around the lookout tower quieted. In their absence, the forest fire calmed as well. Thick plumes of smoke still rose from smoldering undergrowth, but at least the wind was no longer whipping flames into a frenzy and tossing embers about like confetti. A lot of the forest floor was already burned to black, all available fuel consumed by the abnormally fast blaze.
Reluctantly, Rory turned his attention away from his retreating opponent and onto the more immediate problem. Balancing on the breeze, he scanned the forest with a practiced eye, assessing the situation. To his relief, the flames hadn’t yet reached the tower.
In fact, they couldn’t reach it.
His beak dropped open in surprise. A fireline protected the structure. It was hastily dug
and a bit narrow, but effective. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that one of his own crew had cut it.
He opened his mind to his squad as he swooped down. *It’s safe. You can all come up here now.*
*How very kind of you, boss.* Rory winced at Blaise’s acid tone. She was clearly smarting from his use of the alpha voice on her. *What’s the situation?*
*Under control.* He landed to inspect the fireline more closely. The flames on the far side were dying away, blocked from reaching any further fuel.
Even though the lookout tower didn’t seem to be in any immediate risk from the fire, Rory still had a sense of unease. Instinct screamed that there was something wrong here.
He glanced up at the lookout tower. He’d seen the fire watcher run into it at the start of the brief fight, but there was no sign of activity now. All the storm shutters were closed.
His griffin clawed at his soul. Danger! Hurry!
The platform was too narrow for his griffin form. Shifting back into human form, he took the stairs up to the platform two at a time. As a mythic shifter, his gear came with him when he transformed—which was handy, since if he’d turned up on the fire watcher’s porch buck-naked, he would have had some explaining to do.
Just as he got to the top, a muffled shriek came from behind the closed door.
He didn’t hesitate. The door might have been designed to be bear-proof, but it definitely wasn’t shifter-proof. His first charge smashed it off its hinges. He kicked apart the shattered remains, stepping over the threshold.
The inside of the tower was as dark as a tomb. Rory squinted, his sensitive eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change. “Hello? Are you-?”
And that was as far as he got, before a furry missile hit him square in the chest.
He barely managed to get his arm up in time to protect his throat. Razor-sharp teeth sank deep into the sleeve of his protective jacket.
Too startled even to shift, Rory leaped backward. Catching his heel on the splintered wreckage of the door, he stumbled, put a foot down onto thin air, and had a long, drawn out second to fully appreciate how much this was going to suck.