Firefighter Dragon's Demi-God Daughter

by Brittany White

  “The demons are planning to take over the witches’ coven,” he said. “Once they gain enough power.”

  Dammit. It made no sense to her, but the demons gained power through committing criminal acts. It didn’t have to be murder. Sometimes it was theft. Sometimes it was destruction of property. It didn’t matter to them. They just needed to create enough havoc and they’d have the negative energy they needed to make them powerful enough to challenge a witches’ coven.

  3

  Jackson

  As the alarm blared, Jackson shot out of his bed. It was 4:00 a.m. and they were needed on a call.

  Even half asleep, he could go through the process they followed to respond to an emergency. They’d trained so many times that it was automatic. Soon after the alarm went off, they were on the firetruck, racing toward the fire, which was in Rockaway Beach. Jackson was always happy to help with any crisis, but he preferred to work on the fires. That was where his skills came in handy.

  As they pulled up to the building, it was clear the structure was a lost cause. It had been a warehouse before the fire struck. Now it was a smoking mess. Before the truck was even parked, Jackson and one of his colleagues were out of the truck.

  He looked around. The blaze was big, but there didn’t seem to be any onlookers, not yet. That made his job a whole lot easier. But now that they’d arrived, someone would have noticed the bright red lights, and they’d come outside.

  The residential areas were the worst. It only took one person to be awake. An exhausted mom or dad could be up rocking an infant and notice the flashing lights. Or a night shift worker would be brushing her teeth, and see the fire engine speed by. At that point, the night owl in question would text his or her neighbors and then post on the neighborhood social media page, usually including photos.

  People would begin to stream out of their houses. They would all hold up cell phones and take videos of the fiery destruction. It was damned distracting because one of the team had to spend their time guarding the rowdy crowd, who always wanted to get too close to the fire.

  But this was a commercial area, not jammed with residents, and right now, they had a little bit of privacy.

  “I’m going in,” he shouted.

  He got inside the building, and right inside the door he slipped his helmet and coat off. He could move much better without them constricting him. Fuck. Was that a heartbeat? He paused, listening. Yes. That was a heartbeat, and it was far too rapid.

  He grabbed his coat again and ran.

  On the second floor, he found the source. A man was trapped in the bathroom. “I’m coming in,” Jackson shouted. “Back up. Do not touch the door.”

  Jackson didn’t have his gloves on, but he’d worry about that later. He grabbed the door handle, which was already overheated to the point of melting. He tugged, pulling the entire door out of its frame. Pressed up against the far wall was one guy.

  He’d done everything right. He’d opened the window, he’d wet his clothes down, and he was holding his suit jacket over his head. He was curled up in a ball on the floor, breathing in the least contaminated air.

  “I’m going to pick you up,” Jackson said. Quickly, he fumbled his gloves on in case a reporter was outside the building. He grabbed the guy and flung him over his shoulder, then he took off. They made it out of the building, and sure enough, there was a journalist out front, along with a news crew. The journalist was speaking into a large microphone, and there was a camera rolling, recording everything they did.

  Thank God the ambulance had arrived and Jackson was able to drop the injured guy off with them. The guy seemed like he’d recover; he’d inhaled some smoke and had a few burns on his arms, but that was it.

  Jackson stopped again and listened. There were no other humans inside to rescue. Now Jackson could really get to work and investigate. This was not a normal fire. Something was off. Jackson knew fire—he could literally breathe it while he was in his dragon form. He could stand inside a flame, or even walk through lava. Nothing would burn him.

  But this fire wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the result of a spark from a faulty wire, or a machine that overheated. This fire had a chemical smell to it, and the color was a weird bluish-purple. Those weren’t things a human would have noticed, but Jackson did.

  His colleagues had the hoses out and were dousing the fire. They had it under control and didn’t need him at the moment. He was going in.

  Once again, he shucked his jacket and helmet. The humans needed all that heavy gear, but God, it sure was annoying. He drifted through the bottom floor first, taking deep breaths and running his hands over the smoldering ruins.

  Had someone set this fire? What was the accelerant?

  He bent down next to a desk that had once held a computer. Now it was a twisted pile of plastic and metal. There was a substance on the wall next to the spot where the thick cord had been plugged in. He ran his fingers through the gelatinous sludge. It was black like tar. Sometimes arsonists tried to make a fire look natural. But they often left clues that gave themselves away. However, Jackson had no idea what this slimy gunk was.

  The fire was cooled down enough that he could take his phone out. He snapped a photo to show to the rest of the team but didn’t send it. They never texted anything that couldn't be seen by humans because so often a fire ended up being litigated in a courtroom, either because there was a criminal charge of fraud or arson, or there was a civil claim of fraud. Or sometimes the insurance company just didn’t want to pay.

  When those cases went to court, sometimes they were called to testify, or they had to give depositions, and sometimes their records were subpoenaed. So they had to keep all their communication nice and safe for humans.

  As a result, they’d developed a shorthand way of speaking, which worked for them.

  As he straightened up, Jackson froze. Something was wrong.

  He spun around. There was someone in the building, and it wasn’t one of his colleagues. He could feel another dragon shifter’s presence, and he knew all of his crew well enough to know it wasn’t any of them.

  He listened. Sure enough, he heard a heartbeat. A heartbeat that didn’t belong to a dragon. He closed his eyes and focused.

  A human could not be inside this building, not without being in severe distress. This heartbeat was calm and measured. He’d met a wolf shifter before, but whatever this was didn’t feel like a wolf either. It didn’t feel like a Fae or a vampire. It was something he’d never encountered before.

  He searched every room on the bottom floor, and then he headed upstairs. He wasn’t going to let this creature get away.

  4

  Helena

  Helena had only been in bed for an hour when she was awoken by the sound of her cell phone chiming. She had a text.

  Fire in a warehouse—Rockaway Beach. 93300 Spruce Street. Fire department en route.

  She’d set up an agreement the day before with the fire department. She’d requested to be notified about any first responder calls outside of straightforward injuries, illnesses, and accidents. If there was a fire, or a shooting, or even a stabbing, she wanted to know.

  The fire chief had not been thrilled, but he’d agreed over the phone once Helena got the mayor and the city council involved. She preferred to get the local agencies on her side and let them do her dirty work. That was far better than throwing her badge around and causing resentment before she’d even started working.

  She generally slept in her clothing. That was a lesson she’d learned as a child. She chose suits that were made from soft fabrics, but even if the fabric was rough and coarse, it would not change her habits.

  She brushed her teeth, pulled her long hair into a ponytail, and added a suit jacket over her blouse. She arrived at the location of the fire within minutes. She picked up her notebook and pen. When she really needed to think, she still preferred to write the old-fashioned way.

  She had parked her plain black car near the spot where the news van had se
t up. The area was not well-lit, and she was able to go around the back and slip inside the building easily. Not all demi-gods were immune to fire, and most of their children were not either. But she was.

  Direct flames could harm her, but the results were like those of a sunburn. It would not kill her. She’d tested it several times.

  As soon as she was inside, her stomach rebelled. It churned, to the point where she could have vomited had she eaten anything recently.

  She exhaled.

  A demon had been there.

  He was not there any longer, though; he’d been gone for hours.

  His dark presence had cast a shadow over the building. She wasn’t sure how she’d been distracted enough to miss it on the way in. She winced. She could smell him, where he’d been.

  She stepped over a fallen beam and found a desk and a melted computer. The demon had been in this very spot.

  She snapped a photo and made a few notes on her paper. Then she climbed up the stairs. They were still intact, but they creaked as she made her way up. They wouldn’t hold much longer. She’d have to get out of the building without being seen.

  But first, she was going to search all three floors. On the second floor, a flame still blazed, out of reach of the firemen. She picked her way over some fallen shelves and gasped at what was ahead of her.

  Something had moved.

  Something alive.

  Not only could a human not survive in this space, but neither could an animal. And it couldn’t be a demon. She’d know. She’d feel it.

  It could be a witch. They were crafty and duplicitous, often learning new spells that allowed them to change their form. Some could pass for human. Some could not. But all of them could cast spells.

  She dropped her pen and paper to the floor. If the witch was here, it must be in league with the demon. She would capture it, secure it, and summon Ares. He would want to take over after that.

  She centered herself. She was the granddaughter of the god of War. Battle came naturally to her. But witches were difficult to fight. They did not rely on strategy or skill or even strength. They relied on their wits, and they were sneaky. She’d fought one when she was seventeen, and keeping up with their spells had been a very difficult task. She’d been ill for weeks afterward. But none of that mattered.

  She would not allow this monster to terrorize the people of this town. She pulled her blade from her belt. She had sharpened it just the night before.

  She ran forward, ready to end this problem now.

  5

  Jackson

  On the second floor, Jackson found a stack of cardboard boxes. Inside there were several computer hard drives. He picked each one up, but they were twisted with heat. The boxes were halfway to being a pile of ash. If he picked them up, they’d disintegrate.

  He’d take the hard drives back to the station, though. If there was anything to be salvaged, one of the crew would be able to tell. They had a couple of geeks in the unit who loved tech and hardware. Maybe they’d have a clue as to why this place was a target.

  He tucked one of the hard drives into his pocket when a blur of motion caught his eye.

  He whipped his head up just in time to see a female running toward him.

  Running toward him with her arm bent at the elbow and a sharp blade in her hand.

  She was poised to strike.

  She also wasn’t human.

  This was what he’d sensed earlier. What the hell was she?

  He dropped into a half-crouch, ready to deflect her. Her blade couldn’t hurt him, but he wanted to be able to grab her and find out who she was and what she wanted.

  She moved fast, faster than he’d expected. She flew right toward him with her blade angled toward his neck.

  Damn. She was going for the kill shot, without even asking who he was. As soon as she was within reach, he sprang forward and grabbed her mid-jump. He got his arms around her waist and held on. She was strong, but not as strong as he was.

  She wrenched her arm free, the one that was holding the knife, and she jabbed her wrist toward him with a downward slashing motion. The sharp part of the blade caught him right in the ribs.

  It had sliced through his shirt, and through his skin.

  Stunned, he let go of her.

  She lost her grip on the knife, and it hit the floor with a dull thud.

  He yanked up his t-shirt to see the gash along his skin. “You cut me.”

  Steel would not damage his skin. This was an enchanted instrument. Someone had spelled the blade.

  She leapt away from him. Her dark eyes were wild in the flickering firelight. She pressed her back against a wooden support beam, one that hadn’t collapsed yet.

  He pressed his hand over the wound. No one had ever hurt him before, not like this.

  Not too long ago, he’d met a group of dragon shifters who’d survived fights with witches. They’d used spells and curses and enchantments, and they’d wiped out entire clans. Some of the shifters he’d met had a sort of hunted look about them. They’d been chased by a coven for their entire lives. They’d lost everything and had to start over in Texas.

  Here in Oregon, they hadn’t known such things existed.

  There were good witches, but they seemed rare. His cousin’s friend Niall was married to one. But she seemed to be the exception rather than the rule.

  The clan elders had heard stories about witches, but they’d never met any. As soon as his cousin Garrett had introduced Jackson to his friends from Ireland, Jackson had gone straight to the clan council and told them everything he’d learned from the dragon shifters his cousin had met.

  The council from his clan were an informal bunch. The shifters didn’t really care much for rules, so they didn’t have a strict set of rules or a governing body. Just a group who met regularly and organized events for them. They were a family, and they acted like one.

  And Jackson had taken his place in the clan for granted. He’d always assumed they’d be there for him to return home to. After hearing about the devastation that had happened to clans in England, his perspective changed. He could lose them.

  And he’d do anything in his power to keep that from happening.

  This female was dangerous. Not just to him, but to his entire clan. Fuck. She could come after his clan and his crew. He had to warn them.

  But first, he had to incapacitate her.

  “You’re a witch,” he said.

  Across from him, she panted. “I am not a witch.”

  Her accent did not register with him. There was a hint of something European. Jackson didn’t know any other languages, but that didn’t matter right then. He patted his pocket, searching for his cell phone. He needed to call his crew. They needed to know there was a threat.

  They were out there now, oblivious to the threat. They would be joking and laughing as they extinguished the flames. No lives were in danger, and the building was a loss. It was a stress-free job for the crew, or so they thought.

  They would be caught off guard if they were attacked.

  He fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket with one hand.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Do not call anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I am not a witch.” She said the word with distaste, like it offended her that he’d think she could be a witch at all.

  “Then what are you?”

  “I’m human.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter what I am,” she said.

  “You tried to kill me.”

  She nodded. Her tan skin glowed in the light of the fire. “I did. I acted rashly. I didn't get enough intel. It’s clear to me now that you are not what I thought.”

  “What did you think I was?” he asked.

  “A demon.”

  “A demon.” Was this conversation really happening? Was she serious? He had missed the existence of other supernatural beings for most of his life until recently.

  He’
d never really thought about it, which had been pretty stupid of him. After all, he wasn’t human. He’d thought there were humans and dragon shifters. But the world was a much bigger place than he’d imagined. He’d met a wolf shifter now, and a Fae, and one witch who wasn’t evil. A long time ago, he’d even met a vampire.

  And now she was telling him demons existed.

  “What about angels? Are they real too?” he asked. He got a closer look at her. She wore a business casual pantsuit, and it fit her just right. She looked like a cute little pixie. It was probably a big mistake to think of her that way though.

  “I don’t know. I have never met one.”

  Still clutching his side, he put his other hand on his face. “So you tried to kill me because you thought I was a demon.” He winced as he straightened all the way up. “What made you change your mind?”

  “You’re still alive.”

  “I’m still alive? You mean that one little cut could kill a demon? It hurts like a bitch but it barely bled.”

  “It might not have killed a demon, but it would have hurt it more”

  “How?”

  “It would have pierced his skin and poisoned his blood.”

  “Is the blade cursed?” Jackson asked. He looked at the woman, whatever she was. She was very pretty. Her face was delicate with feminine features. She had full pink lips and high cheekbones, and her looks belied the true strength she carried in her petite body.

  “Yes. By a witch,” she said.

  “So you do know witches.”

  “I do not know them personally. But people I know do. You cannot tell anyone about me.” Her voice dropped down low. “Please.”

  “Why not? I have to warn them. I have to warn my clan and my crew.”

  “I understand,” she said. “You can tell them demons exist. Just don’t mention me.”

  “You came blazing in here and tried to kill me. Now you want me to keep secrets. Tell me why. Give me something here.”