Wildfire Sea Dragon (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew Book 3), page 20
No chains around his wrists. He wasn’t there. For the first time, he wasn’t going to be there.
But someone else was.
The hunched, ice-white shape of the wendigo faced Lupa across the clearing. Its skull-head lowered, like a buck about to charge. It took a step forward, leaving a frost-filled footprint in its wake.
“I said no!” Lupa lunged at the beast, pressing both hands to the center of its broad, shaggy chest. “Stop, Mort! As your alpha, I command you!”
The great beast’s paw froze in mid-air. The burning blue eyes regarded Lupa steadily.
Then the monster melted into a man. An older man, his gaunt face lined with grief, hair gone to frost. But his eyes were the same, pale blue, gentle and certain.
“Lupa.” The man took her shoulders, embracing her like a daughter. “We always knew it would come to this.”
The raven-haired woman shook her head fiercely, pressed against the man’s chest. “Just a little more time. Just one more day. Please, Mort.”
“We’re out of time. The queen’s getting impatient.” The wendigo named Mort gently pushed her away again, holding her at arm’s-length. He brushed Lupa’s hair away from her face, exposing the mark on her forehead. It stood out on her pale skin, livid as a fresh wound. “I know what she’s doing to you.”
Lupa tossed her head, making her hair cover the mark again. “I can take it. I’ll talk to her. Persuade her to be patient. We can still pull off plan A. The hotshot crew are here now, all of them, working the fire.”
Mort let out a pained breath of laughter. “And isn’t that ironic.”
“No, it’s destiny. Fate is on our side. The sea dragon is with them, he could still take your place. I have Wulfric shadowing the crew’s every move. All we need is a single opportunity—”
“They aren’t going to give us that. They’re onto us now. And it’s taking everything the pack’s got just to hold off the Thunderbird, now that it’s wise to us. If it gets through and burns the sacred ground before the king can rise, it’ll all be over. You know what she’d do.”
Lupa’s face paled, but her jaw set stubbornly. “It won’t come to that. I’ll make the pack stronger. I’ll go tonight, find more men, turn as many as we need. They’ll do what I tell them to. And so will you.”
“You are my alpha, but you don’t control me like you do them. And I won’t let you risk yourself for me.” The old sorrow in Mort’s face deepened. “I promised your father I’d protect you.”
Lupa started to reply, then gave a cry of pain. She bent over, her hair swinging to shadow her face. Both her hands pressed against her head as though she was having to hold her skull together.
The wendigo’s face twisted in matching, helpless agony. He hugged her again, holding her close, until her spasms passed.
This was wrong, all wrong. He was supposed to be there. There were supposed to be chains around his wrists. This wasn’t what was meant to happen.
“Lupa.” Mort bent his grey head, pressing his cheek against her sleek hair. “Little one. It’s time. Let me do this. For your father’s sake. For you.”
Lupa’s breath came in harsh, hitching sobs. Her arms tightened around him. “But you’ll be gone. If you’re a willing sacrifice, it will eat your soul instantly.”
He wouldn’t have been a willing sacrifice. He would have fought, to the last breath in his body. It was supposed to be him.
Lupa’s voice cracked, broke. “We won’t—we won’t even have time to say goodbye.”
“So we’ll say goodbye now.” Mort kissed the top of Lupa’s head, tenderly as a father tucking his child into bed. “Goodbye, little one. I love you. Never forget that.”
The hellhound alpha’s voice was barely audible. “I won’t.”
For a moment, Lupa just clung to the wendigo shifter, like a lost little girl. Then she let him go. She knelt, pressing one palm against the rich, dark soil.
“Father of Serpents.” The mark on her forehead lit up, pulsing with a sickly red light. “Blood calls to blood. The world turns, the storms fade, and the time of snakes and shadows comes once more. Rise, horned consort, the ever-hungry one, the one who gnaws at the roots of the world. Accept...accept this…”
Her voice faltered. Mort put a hand on her shoulder. His fingers tightened, squeezing, once.
“Accept this willing sacrifice,” he said softly.
“This willing sacrifice.” Lupa closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek, but she went on, her voice gathering strength once more. “His heart awaits you, shadow-snake, eater of mountains. Come, devour, and grow strong, that you may serve your queen. On her behalf I call you by name: Unktehi, crowned serpent, mighty consort. It is time. The way is open. Rise.”
The ground split apart. Thick black smoke poured upward, taking the form of an enormous serpent. Sharp horns curved from its broad forehead. Slits opened in the inky darkness; twin chasms of burning, malevolent lava. The demon hung above Lupa and Mort, taller than the trees, old as night.
It was supposed to be him. He was supposed to look up into those hellfire eyes, see them fasten on him in bottomless hunger. See the fanged mouth open—
Lupa’s face twisted as she stared up at the towering evil she’d summoned. She scrambled to her feet, starting to fling her arms wide in front of Mort—but if she’d had a change of heart, it had come far too late.
The horned serpent struck, slamming straight into Mort’s broad chest. If it had been a physical creature, the impact would have crushed even the massive wendigo shifter into a thin smear—but he just gasped, mouth and eyes opening wide, his whole body stiffening.
The serpent poured into him like water into a cup. Crimson fire filled his pale eyes. In seconds, the shadowy creature was gone. Only Mort remained.
Or rather, his body.
Its hands twitched, flexing like claws. It let out a long, satisfied breath, looking down at itself.
“Such strength.” The hissing voice wasn’t Mort’s. “Such power.”
Tears streaked Lupa’s face. “This sacrifice pleases you, serpent-father?”
“It pleases me very much.” Ice crystals flurried through the air. Frost was forming where it stood, spreading out from its feet. Lupa shivered. “With this host, I can freeze the world. You have done well, child.”
Lupa hugged herself. Her lips were already blue with cold. “Devourer, even now my pack holds your enemy at bay. They give their lives for you. If it pleases you, will you join the fight?”
“The last Thunderbird’s feathers shall fall like snow.” The abomination’s thin lips stretched, exposing teeth that were already sharpening into fangs. “My queen shall rise again.”
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. It was supposed to be him, he was supposed to be there, HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE—
Someone was calling his name, shaking him. The vision broke, shattered. As the swirling shards evaporated like morning dew, he caught one last snatch of the demon’s triumphant, hissing voice.
“And together, we shall feast.”
“Joe! Joe!”
He bolted upright, heart hammering. For a terrifying moment, the darkness enclosing him was the demon’s inky blackness—and then his eyes adjusted to the faint dawn light. The slice of sky visible through the small window was clear and untroubled by smoke; the faint woody scent came not from towering pines, but from the familiar log walls of his own cabin.
Seven’s arms slid around his waist. She hugged him from behind, her bare skin pressed against his. He leaned back against her soft curves, her solid strength. Her soul embraced him as much as her body. Gradually, his racing pulse slowed.
Seven rested her chin on his shoulder. Her voice was soft in his ear. “That wasn’t your usual vision, was it.”
“No.” The word came out as a croak. He moistened his dry lips. “Something new.”
Her strong, calloused hands started to knead the tension out of his knotted back muscles. “I thought you didn’t get visions after sex.”
“I never have, before.” He moistened his dry lips. “Did I…did I say anything?”
“Not much. Mostly, you were just twitching. Then you started muttering something about how you were supposed to be somewhere. You seemed so concerned about it, I was worried that you were about to try to walk there in your sleep. So I woke you up.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder blade. “So you could at least put some pants on first.”
“Thanks.” He was still drenched in cold sweat, but he forced a chuckle. “Turning up bare-assed at a forest fire would be unprofessional even for me.”
“Is that what you saw? The crew’s next fire?”
“More the one that we’re already on. Or at least, the human half of the crew are there. The Kootenai wildfire.” He rubbed at his eyes. They felt as red and raw as if he really had been standing in that clearing, surrounded by the smoke of an approaching wildfire. “That’s where I have to be. I have to go right away. I know what I have to do now.”
Her hands stilled. “But you must wait for your new bodyguard to arrive.”
He’d had a lifetime of practice at appearing cheerful and carefree. He drew on all of that now, to hide his cold realization even from the mate bond. He turned, flashing Seven a bright, cheerful grin.
“Don’t worry.” He kissed her, swift and certain, and started to get dressed. “I’m not going to need a bodyguard.”
Chapter 27
“I wish you were coming with us,” Edith said unhappily.
Seven passed her the final box of supplies to load into the back of the crew vehicle. “As do I. But when I insisted on staying by Joe’s side, his gift showed him nothing but disaster ahead. Now, at last, it seems there is a path to victory.”
“Which doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Buck said from the driver’s seat. He scowled at her through the open side window. “The way I see it, you staying behind just means I’m down a solid crew member for no good reason. Joe’s really sure about this?”
Seven looked across the car park at Joe’s tall, distant form. He was over by the mess hall, apparently talking to—or at—the Thunderbird. He had his back to her, but she could still read his emotions down the mate bond as clearly as if they stood face to face.
“Yes,” she said. Joe’s hard, unshakable certainty sat in her soul like a rock. “He is very sure.”
Buck hmphed. “Motherloving shifter hocus-pocus. I still trust all this about as much as a magazine horoscope. At least I can wipe my ass with one of those.” He leaned on the car horn, raising his voice. “Come on, you slackers! Are you shifters or slugs? Get a move on!”
Seven stepped back to allow the rest of the squad room to pile into the vehicle. Edith surprised her with a brief, bone-cracking hug, releasing her again before Seven had figured out how to respond. Rory gave her a more professional handshake, but his golden eyes were just as regretful.
“If you change your mind, there will always a place on the squad for you,” he told her.
“Excuse me, who’s crew is this, mine or yours?” Buck snapped. He fixed Seven with a ferocious glare. “Though there is a place for you here, if you ever come to your senses. You’re a damn useful person to have around in a pinch, Seven. And a motherloving hard worker. If all sharks are like you, then I’ll gladly hire half a dozen more.”
Her throat closed, unexpectedly. It was more praise than she’d ever heard from Lord Azure.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “That means…that means a great deal to me.”
Blaise and Wystan both had murmured farewells for her, along with a squeeze on her arm. Even Callum gave her an awkward, unexpectedly sweet smile that transformed his usually grim face.
“Will miss you,” he mumbled as he slipped past and climbed into the waiting vehicle. “Was nice having someone quiet around here.”
Fenrir’s cold nose poked her thigh. *Should run with us, Deep Bitch. Pack hunts with pack.*
“Not this time.” She knelt to look into the hellhound’s copper eyes, hiding her face from the others. “Guard him well for me, Fenrir. Guard them all.”
*Will. Always.* Fenrir’s broad pink tongue gently licked the tear from her cheek. *Once pack, always pack, Deep Bitch.*
Buck honked the horn again. “This motherloving bus is leaving, Joe! Stop chatting up that bird and get your long scaly ass in the truck. Unless your crystal ball has changed its mind?”
Joe jogged over. The Thunderbird watched him go. Its blank white stare was as enigmatic as always, but there was a thoughtful stillness to its stance.
Buck looked from the Thunderbird to Joe with narrowed eyes. “What was all that about?”
“Just checking that the big guy is ready to do his part,” Joe replied. “Chief, can I get one last moment with Seven?”
“Depends on what you’re planning to do with it,” the Superintendent grumbled. “Fine. But make it quick. The Kootenai fire isn’t going to contain itself.”
Buck put the crew vehicle in gear. Gravel crunched under the tires as the transport inched forward a few feet, leaving her alone with Joe.
For a moment, he only gazed at her, as intently as though he was trying to memorize her face. His own was set and solemn, his turquoise eyes deep and dark. He wore his battered firefighter gear as if it was a knight’s armor. He looked like some ancient warrior-prophet on the eve of battle. He looked like a prince. He didn’t look like himself at all.
Then, without a word, he opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace, his salt-sea scent wrapping around her, and he was still Joe, her Joe, her mate. She closed her eyes, pressing herself against his hard chest, feeling the soft, steady thump of his heart.
“Promise me you won’t take any risks,” she said.
His hands tightened on her back. “Like I said, the hellhound pack are too scared and weak to come after me again. All I have to do is stick with the squad, and I’ll be perfectly safe.”
The mate-bond was as steady in her soul as his heartbeat was under her cheek. He was telling the truth, she knew he was telling the truth…and yet she felt as though she was floating on the surface of the ocean, surrounded by sparkling light, unfathomable depths gaping below.
“Seven.” Joe leaned back a little, enough so she could look up into his eyes. “I promise you, this is going to work. I know exactly how to stop the demon. All the squad has to do is hold off the pack long enough for the Thunderbird to get through and set fire to it.”
“Then why can’t I be there?”
“Because it’s not your destiny.” He smoothed one of her braids back from her face. “I’m sorry, Seven. But this is the way it has to be.”
“But only for now,” she said, clutching at hope. “After—after all this is over, I can return to your side. We’ll be together again soon.”
His hand hesitated on her cheek. The faintest tremble went through the mate bond, like the distant ripple of some great sea beast stirring in dark, lightless depths.
“Seven.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You belong in Atlantis. That’s where your future lies. You have to be there, where you can take care of my family for me.”
“Your mother has all the knights of the sea at her command. She hardly needs me at her side.”
“But I need you there.” His voice hardened, in a way that she’d never heard before. “Seven, you gave me your oath. You have to stay in Atlantis. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. I can’t live like this any longer, constantly terrified of the future, of what could happen to you. You can’t come back to the squad. You’d only be in the way. You said it yourself, you can’t even shift on land.”
She had said it herself…and yet it still hurt to hear him say it. She released him, resorting to traditional etiquette to hide her sudden odd sense of betrayal. She gave him a formal bow, fist to heart. “May the sea guide you to victory, my prince.”
His expression didn’t so much as flicker, but she felt a strange reflection of her own pain down the mate bond, as though her words had stabbed him just as deeply. He echoed her salute, clumsily, with entirely the wrong degree of respect given the vast difference between their ranks.
“It already has,” he said. “Seven…”
He trailed off, words evidently failing him for once. He kissed her instead, long and deep and lingering. She stretched up to him, answering him in the same silent language.
All too soon, he pulled back. “I love you.”
Every instinct screamed to hold on to him, to never let him go—but she had sworn an oath. She made herself step back. “I love you too.”
He hesitated, one hand reaching out as though he too felt that urge to cling to each other. Then he let his arm drop again. Never taking his eyes off her, he walked backward until he reached the waiting crew transport.
“Joe!” she called after him as he swung himself inside. “Stay safe!”
He leaned out the window, flashing her a strange, brittle smile. “I love you,” he said again.
That was her last sight of him—hanging out of the window, smile dropping away, craning his neck to keep her in sight as long as possible as the transport rattled away.
And then he was gone.
Chapter 28
The first day on a big fire was always an exercise in organized chaos. Navigating the impromptu tent-city of fire crews and first responders; finding a spot amidst all the other interagency hotshot vehicles; reunions with crews they’d worked with before, introductions to others; unpacking and organizing the gear while the Superintendent and squad bosses liaised with Incident Command to work out the best plan of attack. And all in the acrid smog of an active wildfire, barely a few miles away.
With all the constant turnover of tired firefighters returning from the lines and fresh squads heading out, it should have been a piece of cake to slip away unnoticed. And it would have been, if not for one thing.
Or rather, one person.
“Bro,” he snapped. “I’m a big boy now. I can go to the toilet on my own. You don’t have to hold my hand.”
