by Zoe Chant
“The wyrms have stayed aloof from the outside world for centuries, apart from some diplomatic ties with Atlantis,” Moira continued. “But after seeing how well it’s worked out for my people to abandon our isolationist policies, the wyrms are starting to make some cautious forays away from their homeland. My mother has been working with the wyrm jarls—their leaders—to find safe places for some of their people to learn how to adjust to modern life. Hence,” she waved a hand at Ragvald, “this.”
“It is a grand venture, to journey beyond the range of my people’s furthest wanderings!” Ragvald declaimed, all expansive glee once more. “When I return home, I shall carry back many fine tales of glorious victory to brighten the sunless winter!”
“Er,” Zephyr said cautiously. “You are aware that this is a summer camp, right?”
“Of course.” Ragvald wrinkled his weathered brow. “Why?”
“Just… there isn’t exactly much glory to be won around here.”
Ragvald frowned at him. “But this is a steading for young ones, yes? A place where you teach them many new skills, away from the familiar hearths of their clans? Where they may take their first tentative steps away from childhood, and into the wider world?”
“Er, yes?”
Ragvald still looked as though something was getting lost in translation. “Then what challenge could be more worthy?”
“Ragvald’s people take the education of children extremely seriously,” Moira said. “In his culture, it’s traditional for young teenagers to spend some time with a foster family, in order to build bonds between clans. It’s considered a mark of great honor to be chosen as a mentor.”
“When the fine lady Moira told me of your open position, I had expected to have to battle many warriors to prove my worth,” Ragvald said, nodding. He paused, his forehead furrowing again. “It is most strange that I did not. I still do not understand why there were no other petitioners for this post.”
“You will,” Conleth muttered. “Once the kids arrive.”
“Well, we’re very pleased to have you here, Ragvald.” Zephyr started to hold out his hand again, then thought better of it. He wasn’t sure his ribs could withstand another expression of comradeship. “Welcome to Camp Thunderbird.”
“I am honored to be allowed into your steading, jarl Zephyr of Clan Frazer-Swanmay, and swear to stand at your side against any enemy, for as long as I eat your salt and sleep under your roof.” Ragvald’s face split into a broad, white-toothed grin once more. “Now, you must think me a boorish barbarian, to come to your steading empty-handed. But behold! I have brought you many fine hearth-gifts, as befits a great jarl of your name and deeds!”
With a flourish, Ragvald pulled an ax from behind his back. It had a broad, ornately engraved blade, and was very definitely not intended for splitting firewood.
Before Zephyr could attempt to politely refuse, Ragvald thrust the weapon into his hands. It was a lot heavier than the wyrm had made it look. Zephyr came perilously close to losing a toe before he managed to get a grip on the leather-wrapped haft.
“And do not fear!” Ragvald declared happily, turning to Conleth. He produced another ax, apparently out of thin air. “I have brought one for you too, shield-brother! That we may all test our strength in joyous combat, and share much sweat and merriment!”
Zephyr had never seen Conleth look so perfectly, utterly appalled.
“Er, thank you, Ragvald,” Zephyr said, putting the ax down as politely as he could manage. “That’s very… kind. I shall treasure this gift, but I’m afraid I’ll have to keep it at home. It’s not really appropriate for children.”
“Of course. Such weapons are not for the youngsters.” Ragvald reached behind his back with both hands, and pulled out two more axes, this time notably smaller. “Do not fret. I have brought plenty of little ones, too.”
“Ragvald,” Moira said, in tones of utter despair. “Ragvald, no.”
Zephyr gingerly took the kid-sized axes, wondering where on earth Ragvald had been keeping them. The blades were blunt, at least, though this would have been more reassuring if they had not also been solid steel. “I’ll… look after these. Moira, perhaps you should show Ragvald around? And acquaint him with all the camp rules?”
“Of course,” Moira replied. “Ragvald, could you go wait in your cabin? I’ll join you in a minute.”
With a cheerful parting wave, Ragvald ducked outside. Moira shut the door behind him, and then collapsed against it, banging the back of her skull gently against the wood.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s hard enough to find a knight willing to come here as my bodyguard, let alone as a counselor. Ragvald was the only person who volunteered. He does mean well. And despite appearances, he can be trusted. He’s done a lot of babysitting down in Atlantis, and his references are excellent. He won’t let a child come to harm.”
“I can’t fault his enthusiasm, at least,” Zephyr said. “You will make sure to, ah, address the cultural differences before the kids get here?”
Moira straightened, her mouth firming. “You have my word of honor. I’ll—”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost in a deafening crash from outside, followed by a loud, cheerful: “No need for alarm! I will fix it!”
Moira’s expression slid into resigned dread. Flinging Zephyr an apologetic glance, she hurried out, lifting her voice as she left. “Ragvald? Ragvald, no, not with that—!”
Zephyr considered following to find out what was going on, and decided that he was better off not knowing. Adding the My-First-Axes to the growing pile of weaponry on the desk, he sank back into his chair.
“Look at it this way,” he said to Conleth. “Estelle’s going to love him.”
“What a terrifying thought.” Conleth nudged an ax handle away from his keyboard, with the expression of someone forced to fondle fresh dog feces. “You do realize that man is a walking lawsuit.”
“Moira trusts him, and I trust her judgment. Anyway, it’s not like we have a lot of options. Unless you’d like to find two last minute counselors?”
“Looks like I’ll be adding ‘ax throwing’ to the activity schedule,” Conleth said, in tones of deepest gloom. “Zephyr, I’m doing my best, but it’s bloody hard to recruit shifter counselors at the best of times. It’s not like I can advertise openly online. We need to discuss contingency plans.”
“I am not telling any of our kids that they can’t come to camp after all,” Zephyr said. “Look, I know you’ve always refused in the past, but—”
“Not an option,” Conleth said, biting off each word. He went back to his typing, his tight face underlit by the glow of the laptop screen. “Someone’s got to keep this show on the road.”
“You know I appreciate how hard you work, and everything you do for the camp. But if it comes down to the wire, I’ll need another counselor more than a business manager.”
“Then it appears I’m extremely motivated to find a counselor,” Conleth snapped, not taking his eyes off the screen. “We all have our own strengths, Zephyr. You stick to yours, and I’ll stick to mine.”
Zephyr sighed, but let the subject drop. He’d learned over the years that there was no arguing with Conleth when he’d made his mind up. Even when he was—as he was now—utterly wrong.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to think of other options. An idea crept into his mind. It was unlikely—bordering on ludicrous—but once it was there, he couldn’t dismiss it.
“Conleth,” he said, slowly. “What if we relaxed our criteria a little?”
Conleth looked at him sharply. “You mean hire a non-shifter?”
“Not someone who didn’t know about shifters, obviously. But yes. If it was someone who we could prove was absolutely trustworthy—”
Conleth was already shaking his head. “It won’t fly, Zephyr. Most of the parents only send their kids here for the summer because we assure them of complete safety and secrecy. Hellfire, our biggest investors are t
he Goldens, and you know what they’re like about humans. If they got wind that there was a mundane on site—let alone actually working with the kids—they’d not only pull out, they’d badmouth us to every other wealthy dragon clan this side of the Atlantic. We’d lose half our funding and all of our reputation, and that’s if they didn’t sue our balls off.”
Zephyr rubbed his forehead, grimacing. “I know, I know. Not an option.”
“Not even a little.” Conleth paused, then added, “And besides, you’d never talk him into it.”
“Superintendent!”
Buck broke off the conversation, but didn’t look around. It took Blaise a second to realize why he was staring at her expectantly.
“Shit, I keep forgetting.” She belatedly turned, and discovered the entirety of A-squad grinning at her from across the parking lot. “What?”
“Nothing.” Rory held out a hand to Joe. “Pay up.”
With a mournful air, Joe pulled out his wallet. “I was sure he’d react first.”
“Can’t hear you,” Buck said, gazing across the base with an expression of utter serenity. “I’m retired.”
Blaise folded her arms, glaring at her smirking friends. “If you’re having trouble finding something to do, there’s a whole rack of Pulaskis that need sharpening.”
“I told you this would backfire,” Wystan murmured to Joe.
Rory tossed Blaise a mock salute. “On it, chief. Come on, squad. You heard the boss.”
“I still want to know why you had to be our squad leader this year,” Joe said to Rory as he passed the griffin shifter a twenty-dollar bill. “I liked the seasons when you stayed at home and Edith took over.”
“We tossed a coin for it.” Edith put an arm around her mate’s waist. “He lost.”
“You just wait until next year,” Blaise told her. “Tanner’s talking about taking early retirement as well. Going to be a vacancy for another squad boss.”
“I’ll think about it.” Edith leaned her head against Rory’s shoulder. “But at least for this year, I’ll enjoy being just a regular crew member once again. Just like old times.”
“Let’s hope it’s not quite like old times,” Callum said dryly.
“Sea grant that we continue to face nothing more dangerous than wildfires,” Seren agreed. “But whatever comes, we shall handle it.”
Fenrir rumbled a low, contented growl. “Is good to have the pack united once more.”
“The job sharing worked well, but it is nice to all be back together at last.” Rory frowned, a line appearing between his brows. “Though I have to admit, I’m a little worried about Rufus. He’s still so young.”
Edith squeezed him. “He’ll be fine. He’s been begging to be allowed to spend the summer at Cub Camp since he was three. Leonie will look after him when we’re working away.”
“And Zephyr,” Blaise said. She grinned. “If anything, it’s him you should be worried about. All four of the kids turned up on our doorstep at the crack of dawn this morning, bright-eyed and raring to go.”
Wystan winced. “My sincere apologies. I’ll speak to Estelle.”
“Eh, no need,” Blaise said, privately thinking that it wouldn’t have the slightest effect, anyway. “Zephyr will handle them.”
“Superintendent?” Tanner called across the parking lot. “We’ve got a visitor. Says he wants to see you.”
Blaise cast a glance at Buck, her eyebrows raising. “You expecting someone?”
He shook his head. “Nothing to do with me. Retired, remember?”
“On my way!” she yelled back at the B-squad boss. “Hang on, Buck. I’d better go find out what’s going on.”
“No need,” said a new and wholly unexpected voice. Ash emerged from between the parked crew vehicles, a slight smile on his lined face. “I did not mean to interrupt, Superintendent.”
“Dad!” She hugged him, and screw the fact that half a dozen crew members were still bustling around in the background, unloading their stuff from their cars. “What are you doing here?”
“Just a passing visit to congratulate you again on your promotion.” His arms tightened before releasing her. “Since I happened to be in the area.”
Blaise squinted at him. “I thought you and Mom were in Seattle, visiting her cousins.”
“It is not so very far.” Ash’s expression stayed solemn, but his eyes gleamed. “As a phoenix flies.”
She gave him a suspicious look, which he returned blandly. She’d always suspected that he wasn’t being entirely honest about how much of his power had returned. Not that she could blame him for that. These days, she got the polite messages and coded offers from Shifter Affairs and other secretive shifter organizations. It was amazing how many people thought all their problems could be solved with a quick blast of fire.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a couple of Tanner’s new bear recruits goggling at Ash as they unloaded their truck. One of them nudged the other.
“Who’s the old guy over there with Buck and the boss?” Blaise heard him whisper.
“Don’t you know anything?” his colleague answered in tones of withering scorn. “That’s the Phoenix’s father.”
Ash had overheard too. The corner of his mouth crooked up.
“I have been called many things in my life,” he murmured. “But that one, I think, will always be my favorite. Hello, Buck. I was not expecting to find you here.”
“Just stopping by.” Buck touched the Thunder Mountain Hotshots sign which marked the entrance to the base, running his fingertips lightly over the wood as though petting an animal goodbye. “Force of habit, I suppose. But I should get going.”
“You sure?” Blaise felt a weird reluctance to see him go. It would make her own promotion too real, somehow. “You could stick around a bit longer, watch some of the training exercises.”
“You don’t need me cluttering up the place.” Giving the sign a last pat, Buck tucked his hand into his pocket. “I’ll leave you to catch up with your dad.”
“Actually, I was about to ask if I could get a lift into town,” Ash said smoothly. “A long flight is tiring, and it would be inappropriate for me to loiter at this facility until the end of the day. If you do not already have plans, perhaps you would join me for lunch?”
Now Blaise understood the real reason for this unscheduled visit, and her heart swelled with gratitude. Both she and Zephyr had been worried about how Buck would handle this transition. Sure, he was only a few years off mandatory retirement anyway, but she’d always assumed he’d have to be dragged out of his office kicking and screaming. His announcement a few months ago had come as a complete shock, and she still had no idea what—if anything—he planned to do next.
“Motherloving shifters,” Buck grumbled. “Just when you think you’ve escaped, they start following you around. Harder to get rid of than bedbugs. Still, I suppose I can fit it into my busy social schedule. Come on, we should both get out of Blaise’s hair.”
“Feel free to drop by anytime.” Blaise had a mad impulse to give Buck a hug, which she squelched on the grounds that he didn’t need his day to get any worse. She cleared her throat. “And thank you. For everything.”
“You too.” Buck gave her a stiff nod. “I’d wish you luck, but you won’t need it. Keep those motherloving shifters in line, Superintendent.”
The pair headed for Buck’s car. Blaise watched as it pulled away, poised to wave, but Buck didn’t look back.
Her vision blurred. Damn it. The last thing she needed on her first day as Superintendent was to cry in front of the crew.
Blinking hard, she strode briskly to the—to her office. Once safely hidden inside, she took a deep breath, looking around. There were the familiar box files of records, still haphazardly over-spilling the shelves. There was the big, scuffed desk, the top stained with overlapping rings. Buck had always been careless with his coffee mugs. His empty chair stared at her in mute accusation.
Blaise found her gaze drifting to the
other, smaller chair, set across the desk from Buck’s. That was where crew members sat—usually in sweating discomfort—if they had the misfortune to be summoned into the Superintendent’s office.
She pulled it out from the desk, sitting down. As her butt connected with the worn fabric, something crinkled in the back pocket of her jeans. Frowning, she stood up again, reached round, and pulled out a note.
I know you are ready for this. Trust me. Trust yourself.
Burn bright, my Phoenix.
~ Z
P.S. And watch out for people passing notes in class. You know where that leads…
Blaise let out an amused breath of laughter. Folding up the note, she slipped it back into her pocket. She looked at Buck’s chair again.
“Okay,” she said out loud. She cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this.”
Going round the desk, she gingerly lowered herself into the chair. Worn leather creaked underneath her, quickly warming with her body heat.
It felt… comfortable. Cautiously, she leaned back. The chair adjusted to her weight, as easily as if it had been made for her. She was a good deal shorter than Buck, yet her feet rested on the floor rather than dangling.
He adjusted it for me before he left.
“I’ll take care of them, Superintendent,” she said to his absence, her eyes stinging again. “Promise.”
*BLAISE!*
The telepathic shout went off in her head like a bomb. She leaped to her feet, knocking the chair over.
“Dad,” she whispered, and then, much louder, in a mental roar: *EVERYONE, WITH ME, NOW!*
They were already running up as she burst out into the sunshine. “Blaise,” Rory began. “What—?”
“No time!” She cast a cursory glance around, making sure that none of the human crew members were watching. “Something’s wrong. Callum, find my dad!”
Without waiting for a response, she shifted, hurtling into the sky. Rory and Callum followed, with Edith and Wystan clinging to their backs. Seren rose too, carrying Joe. Below, Fenrir followed the pack on foot, shimmering out of sight like a fading shadow.