“You are my dream girl,” he whispered as he lay on top of her. “And yet this reality is better than any dream I’ve ever had.”
Ashling held him, her arms firmly wrapped about him as she smiled. This was perfection.
This was love.
14
“That night — the night that I set Jeremy on fire,” said Ashling, her naked body pressed to his under the cool night breeze. “I was sure that you hated me.”
“Hate you? I could never have hated you.”
“But why did you run away?”
Hawke pulled away for a moment to look into her eyes. “Because I knew then that you were like me. And I knew that I couldn’t ever tell you what I was. Not if I wanted this life of mine. But Ashling, I’m ashamed of what I did. I ran away like a stupid coward, left you suffering alone. I let you hurt instead of risking being found out. I was a stupid, foolish boy.”
“It’s all right, Hawke,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.
“It’s not,” he replied. “And if you let me I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
“Please don’t tell me that we just made love because you felt guilty.”
Hawke laughed. “We — at least I — made love with you because I would have exploded if I hadn’t. I needed you. I still need you. I will always need you. You don’t know, but I’ll show you. Over and over again, if you’ll have me.”
“I’ve never been able to admit that I need anyone,” she said. “Never.” She kissed his chest. “But to need you feels so good right now.”
“Good. Keep needing me. Because I don’t intend to leave you, ever again.”
They lay holding one another in silence for a few minutes before either spoke.
“Why didn’t he pursue us?” Ashling asked. “The Vulture, I mean. Why didn’t he fly after us?”
“I think he’s injured,” said Hawke. “Maybe when I attacked him, I wrenched something in his arm.”
“He’s the Vulture we saw flying the other day, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He is.”
“Why does he want me dead, Hawke?” Ashling asked, her voice trembling. In this moment of joy, it was the one thing that weighed on her. As long as that man existed she’d never have peace, not in Woodland Creek or anywhere. “I’ve always been an outsider, never accepted. And now it’s as though it’s gotten even worse: I’m not even considered worthy of life.”
Hawke kissed her forehead. “You’re worthy of everything,” he said. “And if anyone — or anything — tries to harm you again, I’ll kill him myself. As for why he wants you dead, I don’t know. Fear is usually the cause of any conflict. Fear of your power, fear of his lack of it. It’s the same reason that no country wants another to possess nuclear weapons; we don’t want them to have greater strength than ours.”
Hawke had taken on a new dimension, one that reminded Ashling of Ranach. He spoke as though he were older than his years, more experienced and wise. Perhaps it was the Eagle inside him that gave him the sort of confidence, the self-assurance of a man who knew whereof he spoke.
He continued. “Shifters are powerful creatures, Ashling. They don’t like to know that someone else is stronger.”
“But where did he come from? I’ve lived here all my life, and I don’t even recognize him.”
Hawke seemed to ponder the statement for a little before replying. “Interesting,” he said. “If what you say is true, then maybe he’s come to Woodland Creek to hunt you. He was looking for you.”
“Well, he should get the hell out,” said Ashling, laughing at the simplicity of the statement. If only the Vulture shifter would do so, her life would become far simpler. Perfect, even.
“Yes. Or we should get the hell out. Or both.”
“What do you mean?”
He sat up and looked at her. “You could come with me,” he said. “To New York.”
“I can’t, Hawke. For so many reasons. But the first of which is that a psycho like that would put you in danger, too. I can’t have that. I can’t risk your life, your career.”
“I can,” he said. “And I would.”
“Well, I can’t. And I won’t. I’m serious. I…adore you. So I’m not willing to see you hurt.”
“Then we’re at an impasse,” he said, pressing into her once again. “But I have you naked, and am therefore at an advantage.” He kissed her.
“You’re right; there’s nothing I wouldn’t agree to right now,” she laughed. “But you have a film to make, and I have to sort out the rest of my life, now that I understand who and what I am. I suppose it makes sense in a way — if I’m a bird whose feathers are essentially made of fire, I can’t exactly conceal myself in the secrecy of the shifter world. Maybe the Vulture has a point, after all.”
“No — but you can learn to control your power. You can hide when you need to, just as everyone does. There is no excuse for violence, based only on your being different.”
“Speaking of different,” she said, looking around, “we should probably find some clothing.”
“Allow me,” said Hawke. “Having the eyes of an Eagle is very convenient when it comes to spotting hanging laundry. Wait here, and don’t get into any scraps when I’m away. And remember: you can fly if you need to.”
“Got it. I can fly.”
In a flash he was gone, heading once again for the vast sky. Ashling watched him go, thinking how different her life had become over the last few days. She was the envy of every woman in town and somehow a reluctant threat to every shifter. A part of her wanted to return to anonymity, but a larger part felt empowered, strong. As though nothing could take her on now.
But perhaps that was what the Vulture feared in her. Too much power would be a corruption, and in risking her own identity she risked that of Hawke and of every shifter in existence.
Hawke was back after a few minutes with some clothes: a dress that fit her fairly well, some jeans and a t-shirt for himself. Ashling was sorry to see him cover his gorgeous body as she watched him dress.
“So,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I think we should hike to town. It’s getting light out, and you don’t want people seeing the firebird version of yourself. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave your camping gear where it is for now.”
“That’s okay. I’m hoping not to need it for the near future.”
As they walked the two held hands, discussing their hopes and dreams from childhood, and how differently things had worked out for each of them. Both agreed, though, that whatever negative experience had occurred, everything had led them to this moment, to each other. And for that reason alone, neither had anything to regret.
* * *
When Ranach opened the door he threw his arms around Ashling, who grinned in surprise and affection as she hugged him back. He was a kind man, but shows of affection like this were rare from him.
“I had a bad dream — a vision, really,” he said, his voice filled with relief, “that someone had gotten to you, my dear girl.”
“No one got to me, thanks to Hawke,” she said. The young man followed her into the silversmith’s living room, and they sat down next to one another, opposite her mentor. “Ranach, tell me why they’re after me. There has to be more to it than my shifted self.”
“Ah, yes. The Phoenix,” he said. “I saw it in my mind as I slept. Your shifted self is very beautiful, Ashling. And yes, there is more. Things that I’ve never told you, because I didn’t feel them relevant. It’s a sticky business, this.”
“What is?”
“I have never wanted to alter your perception of your parents, who loved you very much. But they, like the rest of us, were imperfect. There was your father: he was strong. Like you, he had the blood of a firebird. One day, years ago, when a young man — another shifter — tried to take him on, he grew angry.
“This was far away, and before you were born — before your parents were married, or had even met. There were quite a few shifters
around that day, and as men will do, the two sparred. Had they been regular men, a few punches would have been thrown, perhaps. And ugly words. But your father’s temper occasionally got the better of him, and on that occasion, he blew up — literally and metaphorically. Needless to say, he hurt people.”
Ashling gasped, recalling her moment years before, when she’d burned that young man. Nearly killing him.
“Some were hospitalized for their burns. The man — the one after your father — set himself on a personal quest for vengeance against him. For years he searched for him, not knowing that he’d come here, to the safety of Woodland Creek. When he discovered that your father had settled in this town, the other man arrived and found him and your mother together. He issued threats against them both, said that he and his cronies would seek revenge. Fortunately, the man didn’t know of your existence. And so your parents left you with me in order to protect you, and went into hiding. The one thing that neither could abide was the idea that you could be hurt.”
“My parents — are they still alive? Did that man ever find them?”
“I believe they have evaded him to this day, Ashling, though we are not in touch. We can’t be — it would have been too dangerous for you to know where they were, or for them to seek you out. Your father believed that the man who wished to harm him didn’t know of your existence, as did I. But it seems that word has gotten out now, and that others see you as a threat.”
“I want to find my parents,” she said. “I want to talk to them…”
“It would be a risk,” said the wizard. “Your father is considered a traitor of sorts, you see. Shifters attacking others of their kind place permanent targets upon their own backs. Perhaps soon the time will come for you to find your way to them. But for now, you must stay put.”
“But…”
“Patience, Ashling. Now that you’ve come into your own, you will find your way to them, if you so desire. But we need to confront this threat against you.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked. “Now they — he — the Vulture — knows who I am — he knows that I can fly. He’s seen it.”
Ranach scratched his chin thoughtfully, his intelligent eyes looking into the distance for a moment before he spoke again.
“It’s possible that he’s the only shifter who wishes you harm — the only one who’s convinced that you pose a threat. Take my word for it when I say that the vast majority of shifters are like Hawke, here: good people who would never look to threaten a fellow shifter. As for the Vulture, he will need to be persuaded to leave.”
Hawke had remained silent, patiently listening to the conversation as he took in the information.
“So what do we do?” said Ashling. “How do we find this man, and convince him to leave me alone?”
“We lure him. And you will have to be the bait.”
15
“No. I don’t like this one bit,” said Hawke, unable to remain silent. “Ashling, you’re not bait for some psychopath.”
“Well, I suppose we could call the cops,” she laughed, thinking the sentiment outrageous.
“The police chief is an ally to our sorts of people,” said Ranach, who stood by. “He might actually be willing to help.”
“We can’t risk it,” said Ashling. “I’m sure he’s a good man, but if he learns what Hawke is, it could ruin his acting career.”
Hawke began to protest and she held her hand up. “I’m serious,” she said. “Trust me.”
“I understand,” said Ranach. “Well, Ashling. It’s to you to decide. Are you willing to take another risk?”
She looked at her mentor and then at Hawke, the Golden Eagle. The creature who now lay sculpted in silver on her chest, close to her heart.
“I will do whatever it takes,” she said. “I want my life to begin over again, now that I understand who I am. Now that I have Hawke.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I want to find my parents. And we can’t do any of that with this man’s shadow looming over us. So tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”
“Good. So here’s what I propose: You go back to where you camped to retrieve your gear.”
“Don’t you think he’ll know we’re trying to ensnare him?” said Hawke. “It seems pretty obvious.”
“I don’t know,” said Ranach. “He’s not the most rational creature in the world, remember. He may just see Ashling as overly-confident; she’s a Phoenix now, after all.”
“True. But he brought a knife last time — what if this time he brings a gun?”
“Hawke Turner, remember who you are. An Eagle, gifted with eyes that can see to every corner of the cosmos. Your body has the speed of a fastball. You will be at him faster than he can aim any gun. And Ashling has defences that she’s not yet even aware of. Though something tells me she won’t need them.”
“I hope so,” Hawke said.
“Whatever happens, I will be close by,” said Ranach, putting a hand on Ashling’s shoulder. “You are like a daughter to me — the child I never had. I would not let harm come to you. All your life I’ve tried to protect you. But now it’s time that you learned what you’re made of. Are you ready?”
She looked him in the eye, smiling affectionately. Wherever her parents were, as much as she loved them, she couldn’t feel more warmth for anyone than she felt for the old wizard in that moment.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Good. Let’s go.”
* * *
Ashling followed the trail that she’d hiked days before. Though Hawke, in Eagle form, flew overhead, there would be no exploring the sky for her today. She was too conspicuous, too much like a fiery comet shooting through the air above, and there was no concealing herself from prying eyes.
In addition to that, though, she wanted the strange assailant to see her as potentially vulnerable; not entirely in control of her powers. A human with a human’s flesh. But as she walked she held out her hands, occasionally initiating a spark or a small flame. At times, she even managed to create the small fireballs which hovered above her hand, ready to be used as projectiles. Ashling had discovered weaponry, and it was her own invention. Even better than a unicorn’s horn.
Though she hoped never to have to use it.
She’d gone, over the course of days, from being an abnormal, insecure thing to something supernatural, superhuman, even. But her flight with Hawke had been the first experience of this new strength, and she hadn’t enjoyed the benefit of training, of learning all that she could accomplish.
And so there was fear as she walked alone, Ranach somewhere unseen, but not too far off, his location carefully hidden. Hawke’s keen eyes were no doubt fixed solidly on her from his vantage point above the treetops. But even with his speed, he would not be able to beat a flying bullet, or even a knife thrown at a good clip. It would be up to her to take on this man. But, if she were successful, her life could begin again; a renewal could occur at last for her. A rebirth as someone else; the woman she’d always been fated to become. The woman she’d always wished she could be.
Stopping for a moment, she threw a fireball at a fallen tree trunk, which erupted in a sea of flame. With her mind Ashling doused it quickly, putting it out as instantly as it had started. So, I’m able to extinguish fire as well as create it, she thought. I’m not the destroyer that I’d always supposed.
The hike to her makeshift campsite seemed to take forever; longer, even than the first time, when she’d been escaping town and running away from Hawke. This time, she walked towards a possible ambush and possible death. Fate, leading her closer to a confrontation which would test her new skills, her strength and her resolve.
And with her, the two men she cared about most in the world. If anything happened to them, she would be devastated. But she knew also that she should focus on herself for now — the man had no beef with Hawke or Ranach. Only with her, and at last she was beginning to understand why. She wondered how many others out there wanted her taken down, stripp
ed of life.
As she neared her campsite among the old house’s ruins, she felt herself tense, shoulders tightening, eyes and ears alert. Deep, nerve-wracking anticipation. But something else ate at her as well. As though another sense were kicking in; an instinct had lain dormant before she’d come fully into her powers.
She could smell him on the air, feel him near, that man who wanted her gone. The shifter who couldn’t hunt her so well — no doubt he would be better at it if she were made of rotting flesh. His interest was only in the dead and those he could destroy.
He didn’t belong in Woodland Creek as she did.
As she did. She belonged.
For once, she had a home, and it all made sense. The magic of the place, its strange forces which had worked at her all her life. The powers that Ranach had concealed from her. Hawke. And others, whom she would one day learn to recognize as her own kind. Somehow it was a relief. Though she might be walking into a trap willingly, though this man might snuff her life out, she finally understood who she was. There were no doubt others in her home town who’d known all her life, who’d watched her protectively. Who’d sympathized with her plight.
If only I shifted into a ground squirrel, she thought. No one would feel a need to snuff me out.
At last she saw the ruins, surrounded here and there by the odd flash of colour: her camping gear, lying about on the ground, the tent still erect, pegged into the soil. She walked slowly, attempting not to step on dry twigs or mounds of fallen leaves, to conceal her steps. But she wasn’t so graceful as a cat or as her flying form, and proceeding in silence felt like an impossibility.
The good news was that she didn’t see him: maybe he was gone, having seen what she could do, and knowing that the Golden Eagle was protecting her. Maybe the Vulture had left for good.
But again it came to her: a warning; instinct, telling her that he was nearby, that he wished her harm. That he awaited her. In an instant she knew.
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