Firefighter Unicorn

by Zoe Chant

  Hugh’s fingers dug into his biceps, but his haughty expression didn’t waver. “Seems to me that there’s nothing stopping you from hurting Hope anyway, once I’m out of the way. So I might as well make sure you don’t get what you want.”

  “Now you’re the one who isn’t thinking things through.” Gaze’s tone was light and pleasant, as if this was a perfectly civil conversation. “I do want to live to enjoy my new treasure, after all. That means I need insurance against a certain vengeful little wyvern. Even after I’ve killed you, Ivy won’t dare to come after me as long as I’m holding her sister. I’ll keep Hope safe and secret, never fear.”

  Hugh’s eyes flicked from Gaze to Hope. She shook her head frantically at him, willing him not to listen to the basilisk shifter.

  “You’re insane if you think you can get away with this,” Hugh said to Gaze. “Ivy isn’t the only one you need to worry about.”

  “You mean the Phoenix? Your erstwhile friends on Alpha Team?” Gaze’s smile stretched wider. “Seems they can’t be such good friends after all, given how fast you were to abandon them. I’ll take my chances. Now, are you really going to put your young friend here through some very unpleasant experiences, just to spite me?”

  Hugh gripped the bars of the cage, all ironic detachment abandoned. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

  “Then do what I want.” The basilisk too had lost all fake civility, his tone hard as steel. “Last chance, Hugh Argent. Shift.”

  Hugh’s knuckles whitened. For a moment, he matched stares with the basilisk shifter, cold blue eyes locked with hidden crimson ones.

  Hugh looked away first. Bowing his head, he leaned on the bars, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Hope,” he said, very softly. “I’m sorry.”

  She thought for a moment that he was refusing, and her heart gave a weird lurch of combined terror and triumph—yes, hold out, I can take it, oh God this can’t be happening—but then he stepped back into the center of the cage. His form shimmered.

  No! she wanted to shout, as he shifted. And then, when she saw what he was: Oh, no.

  The unicorn’s silver light shone through the cage, striping the concrete floor with stark black shadows. The enclosure had been plenty big enough for a man, but the steel bars pressed cruelly into that gleaming white hide.

  The great muscles bunched. Sparks flew as silver hooves struck steel, and Hope caught her breath. Surely no mere cage could contain all that shining power, surely the walls would buckle and fall away under the force of his kicks…

  But there just wasn’t any room. No matter how the unicorn twisted, he didn’t have space to lash out with his full strength. He couldn’t even turn his head. The long silver horn stuck out the front of the cage, trapped between the bars.

  “Oh, you beauty,” Gaze breathed.

  The unicorn bared his teeth, ears flattening as Gaze reached for him. One of the huge hooves stamped, shaking the floor. His horn rattled against the bars of the cage…but the unicorn couldn’t pull back as the basilisk shifter ran a possessive hand down the spiraling, gleaming length.

  “Eternal life,” Gaze whispered. “Or as good as eternal. I shall restore myself to youth and health again and again. Everything I’ve built so far will be insignificant compared to the power I will hold.”

  Forgotten, Hope flopped to her side. She writhed her upper body, dragging her limp legs over the concrete regardless of how the rough surface abraded her skin. If she could get close enough, she could bite Gaze in the ankle, or drag him down, or, or something. Anything.

  Anything to stop what she was certain was going to happen next.

  “Close your eyes if you want,” Gaze said, taking off his glasses. He tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Though I suggest you let me hold you still for this part. It’ll only be worse for you if I don’t.”

  Hope squeezed her own eyes shut. Partly out of fear of catching the edge of the basilisk shifter’s stare. Partly because she couldn’t bear to watch.

  Ivy, Ivy, Ivy! she shrieked helplessly in her mind, over and over. Her sister had to be coming, she had to be almost here, she couldn’t let this happen…IVY!

  She heard the saw blade whine. She heard the desperate clatter of hooves.

  She heard a terrible, inhuman scream.

  Hope’s eyes jerked open again at the stench of acid-burned metal—just in time to see Ivy explode through the front wall in a storm of teeth and fury. Gaze flung himself to the side, taking cover from the wyvern’s deadly breath behind the cage. An instant later, Ivy’s scorpion-barbed tail smashed into the concrete where he’d been standing.

  Hope was distracted from the battle by something hot and wet slurping against her ear. She shrieked through her gag as a huge black dog appeared out of nowhere, straddling her prone form. She beat at its gaping maw with her bound hands, futilely trying to push the animal away from her face.

  “No, it’s me, it’s me!” Suddenly it was human hands pulling away the soggy remnants of the gag rather than a dog’s slobbering jaws.

  “Betty?” Hope gasped in shock.

  Betty jerked at the chain binding Hope’s wrists, trying futilely to break it. “Hold still. I can bite through this, but I have to—”

  She broke off abruptly, pushing Hope down to the ground and covering her with her own leather-clad body. Hope hid her face in Betty’s shoulder as a shower of steel fragments blasted over them.

  “NO!” Gaze howled.

  Peeking out from under Betty, Hope saw Ivy lunge for Gaze again. The basilisk shifter dodged, his form shifting and elongating.

  The world went dark as Betty’s hands clamped over Hope’s eyes. “Hey!” she protested.

  “Don’t look!” Betty raised her voice, yelling across the room. “Ivy, Hugh, shut your eyes! He can kill instantly when he’s shifted!”

  Heart hammering, Hope could only huddle against Betty, trying to interpret the sounds coming from the battle. Snarls of anger, the crash of teeth against scales, a chilling hiss of triumph—

  Light blazed through her closed eyelids. Not the pure white light of the unicorn, but a wilder, red-orange blaze.

  “Close your eyes, basilisk,” said a voice as cold as death. “Or I will burn them from your head.”

  Instinctive panic filled Hope as heat licked at her bare shoulders. Betty tightened her grip, holding her still despite the firestorm raging all around.

  “It’s all right,” Betty whispered in her ear. “It’s the Phoenix.”

  “Aye, he has it under control,” said a different voice, in a familiar, reassuring Scottish burr. “It’s safe now, lassies. You can look.”

  “Griff?” Opening her eyes, Hope saw the griffin shifter smiling down at them both. “It is you! What are you doing here?”

  “Thank your sister and this brave lass here.” Griff nodded at Betty, who’d shifted back into hellhound form in order to bite through the handcuffs. “They told us where to come. Afraid there wasn’t time to collect a wheelchair. I’ll have to carry you for a wee bit, if you don’t mind.”

  Hope leaned on his broad shoulder, limp with relief. Behind Griff, the flames were dying down, revealing a struggling Gaze being forced to his knees by John Doe and Chase. The basilisk shifter was back in human form, a black bag over his head hiding his deadly eyes. Dai, in red dragon form, guarded the hole in the wall, growling.

  No, Hope realized, the savage snarls filling the air weren’t coming from the red dragon outside. Ivy was still in wyvern form, her green eyes savage and empty of any human thought. Her snakelike body curled possessively around the wreckage of the steel cage, half-spread wings hiding the contents from view.

  “Ivy.” Fire Commander Ash stood in front of the snarling wyvern, face calm despite the acid dripping from her jaws. The concrete floor behind him was scorched black in the shape of wide, feathered wings. “Ivy, you have to shift back. You have to let us see him.”

  The Phoenix took a step toward the wyvern. Ivy’s growl increased, li
ke a chainsaw revving up. She drew her wings closer around the cage.

  “Griff,” Hope said, tugging at his shirt. “Take me over there. I can talk to her.”

  A little half-whine, half-yelp of protest burst from Betty’s fiery throat. The animal sound turned into words as the hellhound shimmered back into human form. “Hope, no! She’s lost to her animal at the moment, it’s too dangerous!“

  “Ivy won’t ever hurt me. I’m her sister. Please, Griff. I’m the only one who can get through to her.”

  The griffin shifter blew out his breath, but carried her over. Betty dogged his heels. When he stopped, the hellhound planted herself in between Hope and Ivy like a bodyguard. Despite everything, Hope couldn’t help feeling a warm glow in her chest as Betty squared off against the furious wyvern.

  She came to save me. She’s worried about me. Maybe she really does like me…

  But this was hardly the moment to think about such things. Hope looked past Betty to Ivy, focusing on her sister.

  “Ivy,” she said. “Ivy, it’s okay. These are friends. They’re here to help.”

  The wyvern’s snarls ground down into a low, uneasy whine. Her head still wove from side to side like a snake about to strike, but the bristling spines down her back flattened. Her spread wings quivered uncertainly.

  “You have to let them help, Ivy,” Hope said, keeping her voice as low and calm as if she was trying to soothe a distressed dog. “I know you’re just trying to protect Hugh’s secret, but he needs their help now. You have to let them see.”

  With a final agonized whimper, Ivy folded her wings at last.

  Hope’s heart gave a great bound of relief. Hugh was still in unicorn form. He stood splay-legged, sides heaving, but at least he was alive. Livid marks striped his white coat where he’d flung himself against the bars.

  Painfully, slowly, he raised his head.

  Griff swore under his breath. The shocked exclamation was echoed by Chase and John, still restraining Gaze behind them. Outside, the red dragon hissed. Ash said nothing, but his fist clenched.

  “Oh no,” Hope whispered.

  Thick white light oozed like blood from a deep cut at the base of the unicorn’s darkened horn.

  Chapter 22

  “I’m all right,” Hugh said again. Even though he was as white as a ghost in the strobing lights of the emergency vehicles, he still mustered an impressive glare. “For the last time, will you all please stop fretting?”

  Ivy tugged at his hand, trying to urge him forward. “Hugh, you have to go to the hospital. You’re hurt.”

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Hugh cast a withering look at his colleagues. “And yes, I’m fully aware of the irony. Shut up.”

  Dai and John Doe, who hadn’t said anything, exchanged glances. Ivy was pretty sure the two hulking dragon shifters were conferring telepathically about whether to bodily pick Hugh up and stuff him into the waiting ambulance.

  Hope had already left in another ambulance, Betty at her side. The hellhound had nearly bitten a paramedic who’d tried to tell her that she couldn’t ride along since she wasn’t a family member. Ivy had expected her wyvern to object, but her beast had been oddly calm about the arrangement.

  She is her treasure too, Ivy’s wyvern had muttered, albeit with a hint of grudging reluctance. We can share. We suppose.

  Ash was busy talking to the police, while Chase and Griff kept hold of Gaze. The Phoenix had called some kind of secret emergency line, so the officers who’d arrived were all shifters who knew how to deal with this sort of special case. Ivy wondered what they would do with the basilisk.

  We should have killed him, her wyvern snarled. Still could.

  Ivy shivered, pushing her inner beast back down. Gaze wasn’t her problem now. And no matter what her wyvern thought, she was glad not to have blood on her hands. After all, Hope and Hugh were all right. That was all that mattered.

  Hugh was going to be all right. She clung onto that thought, as tightly as she clung onto his hand, and tried not to think about the terrible sight of that grey, lightless horn.

  “Hugh, be reasonable,” Dai said, his soft Welsh voice soothing. He took a step toward the swaying paramedic. “Come on, you have to—“

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Heads turned across the parking lot at Hugh’s shout. Ivy stumbled, jerked off-balance as Hugh recoiled from Dai. He flattened himself against the wall as if the dragon shifter had lunged at him with every claw bared.

  Dai halted, holding up his hands in uncertain surrender. “I wasn’t going to touch you. I’m nowhere near you, Hugh.”

  Hugh’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Don’t come any closer. None of you come any closer. Stay away!”

  Dai and John both obediently backed off, though they were already well out of arms’-reach. Ivy started to pull away too, but Hugh’s fingers tightened on hers.

  “Not you.” His voice was a bare whisper, pitched for her ears alone. “You don’t hurt me. Please, Ivy. Just take me home. Brighton, not my parents’ place. I have to go home. Please.”

  There was no arguing with the raw desperation in his voice. “Okay,” Ivy said, letting go of his hand. “Wait here a sec. I’ll go talk to Ash.”

  He slid down the wall into a huddled sitting position, fists clenched at his temples. “Hurry.”

  Worry stabbed through her gut. She was suddenly as desperate as Hugh to get away from all the questions and concerns, the uniforms and sirens and flashing lights. Her wyvern instincts howled that she needed to carry her treasure away from all this.

  She could feel her palms going clammy with deadly venom, her wyvern rousing in response to her distress. Despite her pounding heart, she forced herself to take a moment to check that her gloves were still safely in place before hurrying over to Ash and the other firefighters.

  “I’m taking Hugh home,” she said, deliberately phrasing it as a statement rather than a request for permission. “It’ll be fastest for me to fly him back to Brighton. Griff, can you stay with Hope?”

  “Of course, lass,” Griff said, though his blond eyebrows drew down, brow furrowing. “But shouldn’t Hugh go to the hospital too? There’ll be doctors there who know how to treat shifters.”

  “He doesn’t want to,” Ivy said. “That’s good enough for me. Tell Hope I’ll come get her tomorrow, okay?”

  “No need for that. I’ll bring her and her friend back myself.” Griff glanced over at Hugh, his golden eyes betraying his deep concern. “You just look after him, aye?”

  Ash inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Do not worry about matters here, Ms. Viverna. I shall personally deal with everything that is required.”

  Ivy shifted her weight awkwardly, forcing herself to meet the Phoenix’s eyes. It was hard to look into those dark, enigmatic depths for long. He was so disconcertingly still, with an unwavering focus that made her feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

  “Thanks,” she said, awkwardly. “For, you know. Everything.”

  Her skin prickled as the penetrating power behind those dark eyes scrutinized her for a long, silent moment.

  Then the Phoenix held out his hand to her.

  “No,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “We’re here, Hugh,” Ivy whispered, hurrying to support him the instant she shifted back into human form. “We’re home.”

  Hugh didn’t respond. He’d seemed barely conscious during the flight to Brighton. Ivy had been terrified that he was about to slide off her neck at any moment. Now he stumbled like a drunk man up the road, his arm heavy across her shoulders. The fact that he was letting her take some of his weight scared her even more.

  Ivy was pretty sure that Hugh wasn’t carrying his Brighton house keys in the pockets of his crumpled and stained formalwear, so she didn’t waste time patting him down. Instead, she spat on the door lock.

  “Sorry,” she said, as her acid quickly ate away the mechanism. “Unhygienic, but it works.”

  “Just get me
inside.” His voice was low and hoarse.

  Kicking open the weakened door, Ivy steered Hugh into the dark hallway. She’d hoped that he’d gain some comfort from being back in his own territory, but he stared around blankly, as if he didn’t recognize his surroundings.

  “Door,” he rasped.

  It took some effort to force the twisted door closed again. By the time Ivy had finally bludgeoned it back into its frame, Hugh had disappeared.

  “Hugh?” she called, her pulse picking up with anxiety. She hurried down the corridor, glancing into the empty kitchen and dark lounge along the way. “Hugh?”

  She found him leaning against the door down to the basement, one hand fumbling with the latch. “Hugh, what are you doing? Do you want to shift?”

  He flinched as though she’d fired a pistol past his ear. “No. No. Just need to find somewhere quiet.”

  She blinked at him. Even to her own shifter-acute hearing, the house was dead silent. “It isn’t quiet enough here?”

  He swung his head in an emphatic arc. “Can still feel them.”

  “Who?”

  He flashed a shadow of his edged, sardonic smile, though his eyes were haunted. “Everyone.”

  Is he delirious? There was a pallor to his face and a feverish jerkiness about his movements that made her deeply uneasy. Maybe I should have forced him to the hospital.

  “Well, I can’t carry you in human form, and if you try to go down those steps in this state, you’re going to break your neck,” she said, firmly taking his arm. “Come on, Hugh. Come and lie down and…maybe you’ll feel better.”

  He let out a short, hollow laugh, but let her steer him away from the basement. There was no way she could haul his much bigger and heavier body up the stairs while in human shape, so she guided him to the couch in the living room.

  “You’re hurt,” he said suddenly, as she knelt to take off his shoes.

  Looking down, Ivy realized that her torn jacket and top had slipped, exposing her shoulder. A deep purple bruise from Gaze’s bludgeoning tail was blooming below her collarbone. The basilisk hadn’t dared to sink his fangs into her for fear of her poisonous blood, but he’d still managed to knock her around before Ash had arrived.