Wildfire Phoenix

by Zoe Chant

  He closed his eyes, centering himself, focusing on the heat warming his palms. That was why he was here; why he had ventured into this alien world. Blaise needed him, and he would not fail her.

  Please, he said again, and felt the word swirl away, carried into the listening water. I need to see.

  The dragon dipped its head, as though considering. Its body flowed around him, in constant motion, like the ocean itself.

  The newborn salmon leaves the shallow springs, blind to the journey ahead. If it could see the long route to the sea, would it live out its life in familiar waters, stunted and afraid?

  I would risk my own life gladly, he replied. But not that of others. There is too much at stake to rely on blind faith. Please. I need to see what I should do.

  That cannot be known. The fish moves the water, even as the water moves the fish. The currents swirl and shift.

  The coils loosened, opening. Beyond the shining scales, he glimpsed the endless depths beyond.

  But most lead to the same place.

  He could feel it now, an icy riptide curling around his ankles, trying to suck him down into that lightless abyss. There were fires down there, in the darkness; burning forever, without light, without warmth.

  He kicked hard, fighting the hungry current. Even with all his strength, he could barely hold position. The surface was an impossible dream, far out of reach.

  No. The slightest breath against his cheek; a hint of sunlight and safe harbor. There is a way. But you do not have the strength to travel it alone.

  The dragon’s claws opened. Abruptly he was choking, drowning, water filling his lungs.

  Look, said the voice of the ocean, as his vision faded to black. See.

  Blaise blinked, squinting against bright summer sunlight. The three of them stood by a small barn, surrounded by dry, bleached grass. She could smell dust, and hay, and—weirdly—a faint salt tang of seawater. The whole scene was perfect in every detail, yet somehow it was like looking at a reflection in a still lake. She had the unsettling impression that everything might blur and ripple at any moment, breaking apart into shards of color.

  “Did it work?” she asked Zephyr. His hand in hers, at least, was firm and real. “Or is this a dream?”

  “Yes,” Zephyr replied, with a slight edge in his voice. Drops of water gleamed in his hair, though the rest of him was dry. “On both accounts.”

  “Wow, this is wild.” Joe paid no attention to the surroundings, instead staring at her and Zeph with an expression of utter fascination. “You guys are actually here. Are you seeing me too? Can you feel this?”

  Zephyr flinched away from the sea dragon’s finger. “Yes, so please stop poking me. It’s really not helping.”

  Blaise squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

  “For now.” He had a strained, tight look, as though battling a strong wind. “But I don’t think I can maintain this for long. Whatever we are supposed to see, we had best find it quickly.”

  Blaise looked around. “Hey, isn’t this Wystan’s place? That’s definitely his house over there. But unless he and Candice have been really busy in the past six hours, this barn doesn’t exist.”

  “Not yet,” Joe said. His eyes widened, fixing on something past her shoulder. “Oh. If anyone doesn’t want spoilers, look away now.”

  Blaise turned to see two girls hurrying toward them—or rather, toward the barn, since neither of them showed the slightest sign of being aware of their audience. One was tall and lanky, with the coltish limbs of a child hovering on the cusp of adolescence. In comparison, the other girl seemed nothing more than a wisp of dandelion seed, so tiny and slight that a puff of wind might blow her away.

  Blaise had never seen them before. But she knew their faces.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Are they—?”

  “I think so.” Joe took her elbow, drawing her out of the way of the pair. “Shh.”

  “They’re in the pony barn,” the older one was saying. In the golden sunlight, her curly hair glowed like molten copper. “Hurry up, Estelle.”

  “You’re going too fast!” The other girl was having to practically run to keep up with her companion’s much longer legs. “It’s not my fault I’m shorter!”

  The two girls hurried past, heading into the barn. Blaise exchanged glances with Zephyr and Joe, then followed along behind.

  Inside, the air was cool and shady, filled with the warm scents of hay and horses. A couple of ponies poked their heads out of their stalls, letting out inquiring snorts. None of them so much as flicked an ear at Blaise or her companions.

  “Sorry. No time for carrots right now,” the older girl murmured, stroking a pony’s nose as it nudged at her pocket. She raised her voice. “Finley? I brought Estelle.”

  A boy emerged from a stall at the end of the row. He couldn’t have been older than eight or nine; slight and lithe, his hair braided back in cornrows. At the sight of him, Blaise swore again.

  “Blaise,” Joe hissed. “Language.”

  “What? It’s not like they can hear me. Joe, do you realize who that is?”

  “Yes.” Joe dragged both her and Zephyr deeper into the shadows. “Shut up. I’ll explain later.”

  “Thanks, Beth,” said the boy with Joe’s turquoise eyes. He turned, hunkering down, as though trying to coax some shy, wild creature from a thicket. “Rufus? Estelle’s here.”

  “Was it that jerk Archie again?” Little Estelle scowled, her sharp chin jutting out. Even though she had Wystan’s pale coloring and angular features, in that moment she looked a lot more like Candice. “I swear, if I could shift yet, I’d stab him.”

  “He didn’t mean to upset Rufus,” said the boy. “Archie’s not a mythic shifter. He couldn’t hear Rufus trying to explain that it was a no-talking day. He thought Rufus was ignoring him, so he got mad.”

  “Yeah, well, even a giant butthead should know better than to yell in someone’s face. You’re too nice, Finley. You don’t always have to take everyone’s side, you know.” Estelle punched a fist into her palm, the aggressive slant to her shoulders belying her tiny size. “Oh, just wait until I find that poop-for-brains. He’s going to be in for a world of hurt.”

  “Estelle,” Beth said reproachfully.

  “What? I’ll fix him up again afterward. Mostly.”

  “No fighting in camp.” Beth folded her arms, looking down at Estelle as though there were twenty years’ difference between their ages rather than two. “The rules apply to us too, you know.”

  Estelle considered this. “Okay. So we lure Archie down to the lake tonight, and I’ll punch him there.”

  Finley sighed. “Violence won’t solve anything. Please, Estelle. Rufus doesn’t need anyone to defend him. He’s just up in his head at the moment, and he’s having trouble coming back. This is how you can help.”

  “Oh, all right,” the small silver-haired girl said, with notable lack of enthusiasm. “But just once, it would be nice if someone needed me to kick butts.”

  Estelle sat down cross-legged next to the boy. A beam of sunlight fell across her delicate features, catching in her eyes; one leaf green, the other sky blue.

  Straightening her spine, she closed those mismatched eyes. A faint silvery radiance outlined her slender body, like a halo of moonlight. The glow crept outward, expanding to cover the other two children as well.

  Beth’s expression softened, the crease between her auburn brows smoothing. Finley took a long, quiet breath, like someone coming out of a stuffy room into fresh spring air. Even the ponies stilled, heads drooping in relaxation under the caress of that soft, glimmering light.

  Finley turned, peering into the end stall. “Rufus? It’s okay. We’re here whenever you’re ready to come out.”

  For a few minutes, nothing happened. Estelle sat motionless, eyes closed, radiating that calming glow. Beth stirred a couple of times, as though about to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Finley just crouched there, still and patient, waiting.

&nbs
p; Something poked around the edge of the stall. For a moment, Blaise couldn’t make head or tail of it—a hand ax? Some kind of miniature scythe?—but then it edged further out, and she realized it was a sharp, hooked beak.

  A young griffin slunk out of the shadows, belly pressed against the ground. It was all talons and huge gold eyes, its folded wings only half-fledged. Dappled spots patterned its soft flanks. Head down, tail twitching, it crept between Finley and Estelle, pressing against them both.

  “There you are,” Finley said softly. Keeping his eyes averted, he stroked the griffin’s feathery neck. “That’s it. You can come back now.”

  The griffin shivered. Its outline blurred, and a blond boy crouched where it had been, forehead leaning against Estelle’s shoulder. With a sigh, his stocky body relaxed.

  Estelle opened her eyes, and the glow faded away. She gave the boy a quick, hard hug, rubbing her cheek against his hair. “Hi, Rufus. Better now?”

  The boy didn’t say anything, but the other three children all cocked their heads as though listening. Finley nodded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Archie’s fine. You just gave him a scare when you shifted, that’s all.”

  “Serves him right,” Estelle said fiercely. “I hope you made him crap his pants, Rufus.”

  The blond boy’s face was still hidden, but Blaise heard him huff out a near-silent laugh. He uncurled at last, though he kept his head bowed, eyes turned down. He was big for his age, even taller than Beth, and already broader in the shoulder.

  Blaise had to swallow hard. The boy was the spitting image of Rory at the same age, though there was more of Edith in the closed, careful way he carried himself. It was so much like seeing a ghost from the past, she almost expected her own younger self to appear.

  “That’s true,” Finley said, as though Rufus had made a comment. “But you look scary.”

  Estelle heaved a longing sigh. “I wish I looked scary.”

  “You’re already terrifying,” Beth said dryly. “Come on, Rufus. Let’s go find Uncle Zeph. We have to report this.”

  Uncle Zeph?

  Blaise’s breath caught. She glanced at Zephyr, and found him staring back at her, dark eyes wide.

  Rufus twitched, his shaggy mane of golden hair falling across his face. He shook his head, the slightest of motions.

  “Everyone knows that.” Finley bumped his shoulder against the other boy’s. “But Archie needs help. He still thinks that everyone is just like him. He needs to learn better, or he’ll become a huge problem.”

  “He’s already a huge asshole,” Estelle muttered.

  “Estelle!” Beth fixed the younger girl with a scandalized glare. “We have to set a good example at all times. You’ll never make junior councilor with that mouth.”

  Estelle stuck out her tongue. “Like I care. You’re the one desperate for a stupid badge.”

  “We really should tell Zephyr,” Finley said to Rufus. “Look, how about if I talk to him? I don’t even have to mention you, if you don’t want me to. You’re not the first person to have issues with Archie.”

  Rufus’s tense body language eased a little. He didn’t nod, but Finley smiled.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Leave it with me. Don’t worry, Uncle Zeph will know how to handle this. He always does.”

  “Guys!” Beth’s head snapped round. For one lurching moment Blaise thought that the girl had somehow detected them—but Beth was staring at a blank wall. “The crew’s back!”

  “Really?” Estelle’s face lit up too. She scrabbled to her feet. “But they were meant to be away all week!”

  “I just sensed them turning onto the track.” Delight dissolved Beth’s air of carefully cultivated maturity, making her look as young as the others. “They must have got that fire contained faster than expected.”

  “Mom.” Rufus’s voice was a hoarse, rusty whisper. His face stayed still and grave, but his hands fluttered like birds’ wings; a quick, joyous flight. “Dad?”

  Beth tilted her head, her green eyes unfocusing for a moment. “Yes, it’s the whole crew. They’re heading for the base.”

  “Beth, find Flash!” Estelle was already darting for the door. “Let’s bribe her to teleport us up there right away. Come on, Finley!”

  “You go on ahead,” the boy replied. “There’s something I need to do first. I’ll meet you there.”

  The other children didn’t waste time trying to persuade him. They tumbled out of the barn in a tight pack, racing off down the path. Finley waited until their excited voices had faded away.

  “It’s okay.” The boy turned, looking directly at the three of them. “You can come out now.”

  Caught off guard, Blaise could only gape at him. From Zephyr’s sharp intake of breath, he hadn’t expected this either. Joe, however, was already stepping out of the shadows.

  “Hi, kid,” Joe said softly.

  Finley beamed, showing triangular, sharp-edged teeth. “Hi, Dad.”

  At the sight of that sharkish smile, Joe broke into a wide grin as well. “You’ve got your grown-up teeth now.”

  “Yes,” Finley said, with great satisfaction. “Just like Mom’s. How big am I when you are?”

  Joe held up his hands, shaping a volume in the air. “Bigger than last time, but you still haven’t been born.”

  Blaise stared from Finley to Joe. “You two have done this before?”

  “The dream is fighting me,” Zephyr said through gritted teeth. His hand crushed Blaise’s, as though something was trying to rip her out of his grip. “Past and future aren’t supposed to cross like this. I can’t hold it for much longer.”

  Finley squinted past Joe, his turquoise eyes not quite focusing on them. “There’s someone with you, dad. But I can’t make them out.”

  “Blaise and Zephyr.” Joe gestured them both forward. “They came with me this time. Zephyr—uh, Uncle Zeph is guiding my dream. I don’t think I’d be here, otherwise.”

  “Oh, right. That explains things.” Finley’s expression cleared, his gaze sharpening. He looked straight at Blaise. “Yes. I can see you now.”

  Shifters can size each other up, she’d told Zephyr once. Now, she looked into Finley’s eyes and saw the truth behind that slight, unassuming exterior.

  All the breath left her lungs. She’d only ever met three shifters with that level of raw, primal power. One was her father. The second, Joe’s mom, the Pearl Empress.

  And the third…

  “Hi, Aunt Blaise,” said the boy with the vast, ancient predator in his soul. He cocked his head. “You look different.”

  “Yeah, well.” How the hell could her throat be dry when she wasn’t even really here? “I guess I must be older, by your time. Probably got a few more scrapes on my paintwork, so to speak.”

  “No, it’s more than that.” Finley frowned, his gaze moving to Zephyr. “You look strange too, Uncle Zeph. Oh! I know what it is! You two aren’t mated yet, right?”

  Her relief was so great, her vision blurred. No—the room blurred. It was as though someone had thrown a stone into a still pond, shattering a reflection. The boy and the barn and the ponies fractured into glittering fragments.

  “I can’t hold it,” Zephyr gritted out as the scene rippled, colors starting to bleed away into gray. “I have to let go.”

  “Just a second longer!” Blaise raised her voice, straining to make out Finley’s wavering form through the thickening fog. “Finley! When you know us, Zeph and I are mated?”

  “Yes.” The boy’s voice sounded faint, like he was disappearing into the distance. “That’s how everything happens. How it has to happen.”

  “Blaise!” Zephyr lurched, as though buffeted by storm winds. “This future is fragile, we can’t risk breaking it!”

  “I have to know!” She held him up, desperately trying to make out Finley’s wavering form through the thickening fog. “Finley! And it all works out? I’m strong enough to control my animal?”

  Just for a heartbeat, the mist
s cleared. Finley looked back at her from the future, his innocent, ancient eyes puzzled.

  “Of course.” His fading voice followed her down, into gray, and darker gray, and black. “You’re stronger than anyone. You’re the Phoenix.”

  Chapter 20

  “What about Blaise?” Seren asked, over a morose breakfast the following morning. “Does she share your interpretation of the vision?”

  “I don’t know,” Zephyr replied. He’d woken to find cold, empty space next to him in bed. “I haven’t seen her either. She must have left while the rest of us were still sleeping.”

  Joe winced. “Uh-oh. That’s not a good sign.”

  “Blaise has a tendency to take the pessimistic view even at the best of times,” Seren agreed. “Perhaps you should go after her, Zephyr.”

  He stared down into his coffee. “I don’t think she wants to be around me right now.”

  Joe opened his mouth—probably to make some encouraging remark—but had to pause as a couple of firefighters from C-squad went past their table, engrossed in their own conversation. From the snatch Zephyr overheard, they were debating which bars to hit later that night. Just regular people going about their everyday lives, blissfully untroubled by premonitions of the future. Zephyr envied them.

  “Look, bro,” Joe said, when their human crew mates were safely out of earshot once more. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it does no good whatsoever to tie yourself up in knots over visions. Yeah, when I see things, it always turns out to be for a reason. But it’s almost never for the reason I think it is.”

  “Sometimes the worst nightmare turns out to be a mere shadow across your path,” Seren said, her expression even more solemn than usual. “Joe was tormented for years by visions of me. But every step he took to try to evade that fate only brought us closer to that point. He was not shown the battle in order to flee from it, but so that we could both be prepared to fight.”

  “I know.” Zephyr had heard the story several times, from both parties involved (Seren’s version was a lot briefer than Joe’s, and featured far fewer descriptions of shining teeth and lissome fins). “But that was different. Joe was supposed to see those visions. I forced this one, even though I was warned against trying to see the future. And now we know why.”