Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(23)
It did not like being in the air. The sky was an unnatural domain for it, too far removed from the cold, comforting darkness under the earth. The bright blue emptiness and searing eye of the sun unnerved it.
At least the hawk’s mind was a more comfortable fit than the hare’s, being closer to its own predatory nature. It only needed to nudge the bird’s instincts—good hunting, prey there, find food—to get it to follow the shifter pack’s boxy yellow vehicle.
To Thunder Mountain.
It knew this place. Or rather, knew of it. None of its kind had laid eyes on the mountain for hundreds of years. There were forces that even they feared.
Almost, it abandoned the hunt. But it was not a dumb beast, driven only by fear and instinct. It had waited long to re-emerge into the mortal world.
It would not be driven out. If it was to be free to feast and hunt, it needed a strategy. A way to defeat those who sought to destroy it. And this prey—this fascinating, flawed, unique prey—might be the key.
For such a chance, it would risk even Thunder Mountain. It flew on cautiously, alert for any danger.
The jagged peak stood alone in the sunlight. No shadows swept through the clouds shrouding the sacred mountain.
Where were the guardians?
The world had changed greatly since it had last stalked the earth. Human dwellings infested the once-pristine wilderness in astounding numbers now. It could scent their souls, fat and placid and mouth-watering. If the guardians had truly gone…
No. It could not risk feasting yet. The lesser shifters were still here. In the before time, they had always worked for the greater powers, watching over the human herd. This could yet be a trap.
It circled high over the shifter den. Hunger gnawed at it, but it had to move slowly, cautiously. It had to observe these new guardians. Learn their habits, their weaknesses.
Learn how to destroy them.
Chapter 9
Edith huddled under her noise-cancelling headphones. They muffled the worst of the bone-saw shriek of the hotshot crew vehicle’s engine, turning it from agonizing to merely uncomfortable.
More importantly, they gave her an excuse to avoid conversation.
Even a truck this big was a tight squeeze for the whole squad, given the size of the men. She’d ended up wedged into the back row, gear piled around her feet and Fenrir’s hot, doggy weight pressed against her side. Joe, Wystan, and Callum shared the middle seats, with varying degrees of muttered grumbling and stoic resignation. She could only catch glimpses of Rory past their broad shoulders.
The squad boss rode shotgun in relative comfort, one arm draped along the open window. He kept turning his head, glancing back as though he could sense her looking at him. Every time, he flashed her a warm, private smile that made her skin tingle. Every time, Edith jerked her eyes away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in her music.
It wasn’t just the juddering, jolting ride that twisted her stomach into knots. Edith clenched her hands between her knees, sick with guilt.
I have to tell him.
She knew she should have done so already. It should have been the first words out of her mouth when Rory had made his incredible, breathtaking offer: I can’t. You don’t understand, I’m not like other people. You don’t want me.
But his words had been like a spell, transforming her into someone else. For one shining moment, she’d believed herself to be the person that he saw—someone he could want. Someone who deserved to have a place on his team.
So she’d said yes. And then sat in mute horror, as everyone beamed and congratulated her and the realization of what she’d done came crashing down on her.
She’d spent her last night in the lookout tower staring up at the familiar ceiling, her head spinning through a million different scripts, trying to find a way to come clean. But her nerve had failed her. Just thinking of how Rory would look at her made her tongue dry up in her mouth.
He would hate her. He would leave. And she’d never see him again.
She’d been a coward. She’d called up her supervisor on Rory’s satellite phone to hand in her resignation… and been almost grateful for the blast of anger in her ear. Here was an excuse she could use.
“He says I have to work out my notice period,” she’d told Rory, with Wayne still ranting down the phone.
The hotshot’s mouth had crooked in a way that wasn’t quite a smile. He’d taken the phone out of her hand, walking off with it. She hadn’t been able to hear what he said, but his shoulders had been loose and relaxed. As far as she’d been able to tell, it had been a perfectly pleasant conversation.
When Rory had handed the phone back to her, a gleam in his eye, Wayne sounded very different.
“Yes,” he’d said, in a high, peculiar tone that she’d never heard him use before. “Of course. Would two months severance pay be sufficient?”
After that, she’d felt like she was floating free of her body, merely observing as everything happened around her. Surely she couldn’t really be packing up her limited possessions. Surely she couldn’t really be heading down the tower stairs for the last time. Surely she couldn’t really be climbing into the crew truck, as though she belonged there.
She kept waiting to wake up. To be found out. But the dream kept stretching on.
And the weight of the lie grew heavier with every passing moment.