by Zoe Chant
“The space between dreams.” Zephyr, at least, was still solid and real. His hand closed over hers, tightening in reassurance. “Come on. We have to get you back.”
He started to walk, with total confidence, as though this eerie nothingness was as familiar as his own house. Blaise stumbled after him, trying not to crush his fingers. Her stomach was deeply unhappy about the lack of horizon, while her inner ear was having a violent disagreement with her feet over the question of whether or not she was falling. Blaise liked to think of herself as a no-nonsense, take-charge kind of person, but this was pushing even her limits.
She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the urgent, clashing alarm signals from her body that everything was very, very wrong. “Back where?”
“To your own dream.” Zephyr paused, cocking his head like a dog hearing a whistle, and changed direction. “Bear with me. I’m not sure how to do this.”
“Well, that’s less than reassuring,” Blaise muttered. “I thought you knew how things worked here.”
“So did I.” He cast her a rather strained smile. “Evidently not. No one’s ever come with me between dreams before. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
“Why, what’s—whoa!” Blaise staggered, as her boots abruptly crunched down onto sand. Salt wind hit her face, along with a blaze of sunshine. “Oh, thank fuck.”
“Blaise?”
Callum stood a little way off, holding a large tray of cocktails garnished with a truly ridiculous amount of fruit. Oddly, his pegasus stood at his side, solid and separate. Their two shadows overlapped, merging into one.
“How did you get to Shifting Sands?” Callum said. His pegasus snorted, stamping a hoof. “The plane’s grounded. Bad weather on the horizon.”
Zephyr glanced around the tropical beach and shook his head. “Wrong dream.”
“But I like this dream,” Blaise said plaintively. “This is a great dream. Can’t we stay here?”
Callum’s pegasus laid back its ears. It spread one flame-red wing over Callum, as though to shield him from rain, though the sky was clear. Only a few gray clouds smudged the horizon, far out to sea.
“No.” Zephyr’s grim expression was entirely at odds with the idyllic surroundings. His hair streamed back from his face, tugged by the breeze. “We have to go.”
Blaise cast a wistful look at Callum’s tray as Zephyr pulled her away. Her throat was still scratchy from smoke. “Can I at least grab a drink first?”
From the way Callum clutched his cocktails, anyone would have thought she’d asked for one of his arms. “You can’t have any. They’re for the turtles.”
“When I wake up, you and I are going to have a talk,” Blaise informed him, as the world dissolved into gray mist again. “Oh, crap. Zeph, just so I know, is it bad to throw up in someone else’s dream?”
“You aren’t truly sick,” Zephyr said absently. He was looking around again, though to Blaise’s eyes the gray fog was totally impenetrable, no direction different from any other. “Your body is still back in the physical world. Your mind is translating your soul’s discomfort into a familiar sensation, that’s all.”
“Well, my soul is going to spew if you keep bouncing us around like this. How the hell did you spend fifteen years in this godawful nightmare?”
“I told you, this isn’t a nightmare. It’s just the space between dreams. You get used to it.” Zephyr paused, frowning. “Hm. Maybe this?”
He did nothing that Blaise could see—not even take a step—but another place popped into focus. A riot of clashing smells assaulted her nose—new leaves, animal musk, wet earth. The scents were so strong she could practically taste them, coating her tongue. It should have been disgusting, but instead she found herself breathing deeper, captivated. It was like drinking a symphony; a thousand separate notes, weaving together in a complex blend of meaning and emotion.
Zephyr’s eyebrows rose as he too sniffed the air. “Well, that’s certainly interesting. But unless I’m very much mistaken, this isn’t your dream either.”
“No kidding.” Blaise stared around. “This definitely doesn’t come from my brain.”
They stood in an open meadow, a sea of wildflowers stretching out as far as the horizon. Every blossom was pale and muted, rendered in weird shades of brownish-gray. The grass was gray too, and so was the sky. Blaise grinned, getting it at last.
“Bet you ten bucks I know who’s dreaming this.” Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she blew out a sharp whistle. “Hey, Fenrir!”
Long grass rustled. A familiar black shape padded out from between the long stalks. A much larger creature followed it, silent as a shadow. Two sets of eyes—one pair copper, the other filled with fire—fixed on them in curiosity.
*Fireheart,* Fenrir’s telepathic voice growled in her mind, sounding perplexed. *Come to join the hunt?*
“Just passing through.” Blaise dropped to one knee, hugging him round his furry neck. Glad as she was that he’d found his true self, she’d secretly missed this side of him. “Hey, do you always look like this in your dreams?”
*Don’t know.* Fenrir’s head tilted in consideration. Behind him, his hellhound let out a low, rumbling growl, smoke curling from its jaws. *Is this a dream?*
“Apparently. Don’t ask me to explain. I have no idea what’s going on.” Blaise side-eyed Fenrir’s hulking hellhound, which was still staring at her in a way that wasn’t entirely comforting. “Zeph? I can see Fenrir’s animal. Callum’s was separate from him too. Is that normal?”
“Yes. That’s how it seems to work here, for shifters. I suppose it’s to do with the dual nature of your—” Zephyr stopped, looking at her sharply. “Wait. Where’s your animal?”
Fenrir’s hellhound lifted its huge head, nostrils flaring. Fur bristled down its spine. It growled again, louder.
*Storm coming,* Fenrir said urgently. The wind was picking up, rippling the grass into rolling waves. *Go, Fireheart. Not safe here. Go.*
Zephyr hissed something that Blaise assumed was a curse, though she didn’t recognize the language. Without warning, the gray-brown grass became the blankness between dreams.
“Ugh.” Blaise clenched her teeth. The bile in her throat might be imaginary, but it certainly tasted real. “Zeph, I’m going to need a minute here.”
“We don’t have a minute.” Zephyr raked a hand through his windswept hair, staring around as though expecting something might lunge from the swirling fog at any moment. “This is its home. It can find me faster, here.”
“What can find you?”
Zephyr ignored the question. He focused on her again, eyes narrowing. “Your animal. That’s the key. Where is your phoenix, Blaise?”
“I told you, I have to keep it locked up. You should be glad it isn’t here.”
“But it must be somewhere.” Zephyr started to lift a hand, then hesitated. “I’m sorry. May I touch you?”
A shiver ran down her spine; part unease, part anticipation. “If it will help get us out of here, then be my guest.”
Blaise had kind of expected him to touch her forehead, since that was what people with psychic powers always did in movies. Instead, very gently, Zephyr laid two fingertips in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t feel the leap of her pulse.
“Ah,” he breathed. “Yes. I see it now.”
Blaise looked down and blinked. She could see something too; the thinnest thread of black fire, curling up from her skin to wrap around Zephyr’s wrist. He took his hand away and the line stretched, unwinding like a fishing reel, keeping them connected.
Reflexively, she touched her own throat. The churning line of energy tangled in her fingers, hot against her skin. “What is that?”
“A strand of your soul.” Zephyr turned his hand, examining the blackness encircling his wrist like a delicate bracelet. “Or rather, your phoenix’s soul. I think this is why I inadvertently brought you here. Your animal has bound us together.”
Blaise groaned, slapping herse
lf in the forehead. “Oh, fuck. It’s the damn mate bond.”
He looked up at that, eyebrows rising. “But we haven’t, ah, mated. I’m fairly certain of that.”
“Believe me, you would have noticed if we had.” Blaise tugged at the black thread, but it didn’t break. “But there’s still a connection between us. My animal recognized you. Even if neither of us ever acts on it, you’ll always be my mate. Shit. This is going to keep happening, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps it will,” Zephyr murmured. He fingered the line of energy around his wrist. “Perhaps this will be enough after all.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He let out an edged breath of laughter, like something was darkly funny about the situation. “In all likelihood, we won’t have to worry that I’ll pull you into dreams like this again. If that’s our biggest problem in the future, everything will have turned out remarkably well.”
“Okay. That’s not your first ominous, cryptic statement.” She folded her arms, fixing him with a glare. “What’s going on, Zeph?”
“I wish I had time to explain.” He held out a hand to her. “I think I can find your animal now. Please, Blaise. I need you to trust me.”
She took his hand, reluctantly. “When we wake up, I’m going to have a lot of questions.”
He smiled at her, sadly. “I know. I hope I’ll be able to answer. One last step, Blaise.”
She stepped forward—
Into fire.
Chapter 11
“No!”
The dream had barely started taking shape around them. Zephyr didn’t have a chance to get more than the briefest impression—sirens, strobing lights, a sky full of smoke—before Blaise’s violent psychic rejection threw them both back into gray clouds.
“Nope,” Blaise announced. She dropped his hand, backing away. “Absolutely not. Screw that.”
From the glimpse he’d caught, he couldn’t blame her for being unenthusiastic about the prospect of returning to that dream. If he’d had time, he would have tried to change it for her—but the clouds were swirling now, thinning. He was down to minutes at best.
“You have to go back, Blaise,” he said urgently. “That’s your dream. Your animal is waiting for you there. Can’t you feel it?”
“Of course I can!” She clenched her fists, shoulders bunching. “That’s why I’m damn well staying here!”
Her breath came in shallow pants. He was fairly certain she’d take a swing at him if he tried to pull her through to her own dream again. She wasn’t just frightened. Underneath the aggression and bravado, she was terrified.
“Oh,” he breathed, understanding at last. “Oh, Blaise. You have nightmares too.”
“Yeah, and given the choice, I’d rather not sit through my stupid brain showing yet another replay of Blaise: The Absolute Worst.” Her words and tone were flippant, but the whites showed all around her eyes, betraying her panic. “I mean, you’d think my subconscious would be able to find some new material, what with all the crazy shit from the past few years. It could at least throw in a nice relaxing nightmare about fighting demons in my underwear or something. You know, just for a change of pace.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a cautious step toward her. “I wish I could banish your nightmare, or at least endure it with you, but I can’t. We’re out of time. I’m so sorry, Blaise, but you have to go.”
“Sure, but not there.” She attempted a grin, which looked more like a trapped animal baring its teeth. “Hey, just drop me off at Callum’s beach, okay? Now that looked fun. Sun, sand, alcoholic turtles. What more could anyone want?”
“I can’t. That’s not where you belong.”
“No, but at least it wasn’t on fucking fire!”
Zephyr took her face between his hands. She didn’t pull away. He could feel the trembling tension in her body.
“Blaise.” For the last time, he looked into her eyes, wishing there was time to say all that he wanted to tell her. “I know you are frightened. But I also know that you are strong, incredibly strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s why I’m asking you to do this. I need you to be strong now, for both of us. Because I am scared. I am so, so scared that I won’t be able to control what is coming. I’m terrified that I might hurt you again. That’s why I need you to go back, away from here, away from me. Right now.”
She went absolutely still. Her eyes focused on him, the glassy fear clearing to reveal sudden comprehension, and feral determination.
“No,” he said, heart lurching. “Blaise, no—”
And that was as far as he got, before the storm swept over them.
The fog of dreams shredded in shrieking winds, revealing the endless sky beyond. Storm clouds boiled and seethed, blotting out the stars. Lightning flashed, a bright heart within the dark mass of the looming thunderhead.
Blaise yelled, grabbing at him as the storm closed over them like a fist. He pulled her close against his chest, trying to shield her with his own body. They clung to each other as the wind roared around them—yet it didn’t so much as ruffle their hair.
“Go!” Zephyr shouted, in the calm at the eye of the storm. He could still see the narrow trail of black fire that led back to her own dream; her link to her animal, trapped in her slumbering body. He tried to shove Blaise down that tenuous path. “Go, Blaise! You have to let me go!”
“Like hell!” She gripped his arm, shifter-strong fingers digging into his flesh like talons. He would have bruises when he woke up. If he woke up. “Damn it, Zeph, you weren’t even going to tell me?”
There was no chance to explain that he’d been trying to protect her. Thunder roared, drowning out the world. Trapped lightning boiled in the depths of the storm, snapping in frustrated arcs. Searching for a conduit; searching for a path from sky to earth. Searching for him.
“Don’t fight it.” He locked eyes with Blaise, willing her to listen to him. “Whatever you do, don’t try to stand in its way. You have to let it take me.”
She was stronger than him in the waking world, but this was his realm. With a twist of his mind, he ripped himself free from her. Before she could try to stop him, he launched himself into the void.
Just as he had fifteen years ago, he fell.
The line of black fire that connected him to Blaise streamed behind him as he plummeted. He could feel it stretching, fraying in the ferocious winds. When the lightning struck, it would surely snap.
So be it.
In his heart of hearts, he had known that he would not be able to return. At least he’d had this brief time in the light of day; at least he had spoken with his uncle and seen his nightmare end at last. At least he had met Blaise, and felt the heat of her touch. That memory would warm him, in the cold heart of the storm.
The storm clouds split, spreading into jagged wings. Vast talons opened. Lightning formed blazing eyes, fixing on him.
Yes, Wakinyan. Zephyr tipped back his head. He opened his arms, embracing the wind, making himself a lightning rod for all that terrible, dispassionate power. Strike through me. I am your path.
“Zephyr!”
Something hit him, hard as a striking eagle, knocking him aside as lightning split the air. Blinded by white light, Zephyr felt a hand close around his wrist, right over the ring of black fire. Her touch seared through him, heat without pain, like holy fire.
Cold dread seized his heart. “Blaise, no! Don’t!”
Blaise ignored him, still holding fast. The bond between them blazed up, fire without light, as black as her wings. Lit by lightning, she was an angel of midnight, facing the storm without fear.
“Mine!” Blaise howled at the Thunderbird, her beating wings dwarfed by its vast pinions. “I won’t let you take him! My mate!”
The Thunderbird should not have even noticed the tiny scrap of human defiance opposing it. A storm paid no attention to human wants, or needs, or prayers.
Yet the great head turned, blank white eyes fixing on Blaise. Captive lightning flickered
in its eyes. All around, the storm clouds thinned, starlight showing through gaps.
The Thunderbird beat its wings, lifting higher into the no-sky between dreams. As it rose, its burning stare fixed on Zephyr once more. Thunder rolled through his mind—
—And Zephyr awoke.
The Thunderbird’s final words echoed through his skull, like a slowly fading dream. For a moment, he could only blink at the ceiling, his confused mind trying to work out why it wasn’t storm clouds.
“Blaise,” he breathed. “Blaise!”
Her touch still burned on his wrist. Zephyr hurtled out of bed, ignoring his uncle’s groggy, confused query. He shot down the stairs three at a time, bursting out into the pale light of early dawn.
“Blaise!” he shouted, not caring who heard. He broke into a dead sprint, heading for her cabin, his heart in his mouth. “Blaise!”
She met him halfway, barefoot, a phone pressed to her ear. He nearly grabbed for her in relief, before remembering that would only make things worse. Every instinct cried out to hold her, but he made himself take a step back.
“Are you all right?” he asked urgently. “Is he all right? Your father?”
She gestured him to shut up, still listening to her phone. Zephyr held his breath, fingernails digging into his palms. The memory of her midnight wings filled his mind. They had been black, black as the space between stars, not a hint of fire. But still—
Blaise closed her eyes, the taut terror fading from her face. She drew in a shaking breath.
“Never mind,” she said into her phone. “It’s nothing. I’ll explain later. Love you.”
All the air rushed out of him in explosive relief. “He’s okay?”
Blaise nodded, clicking off her phone. “Didn’t even notice anything, apparently. Guess I didn’t draw on the Phoenix’s power after all. Thank God. I was sure I had.”
“Whatever you did, it got the Thunderbird’s attention.” Zephyr tried to rake a hand through his hair, only to encounter the bristling strangeness of his short cut. “I don’t understand. The Thunderbird’s overriding purpose is to oppose the horned serpents. It needs a conduit to this world in order to do that. It shouldn’t have been able to let me go, not even for a little while.”