Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(44)

“Well, I’d like to get to know you better.” Twirl, twirl, concentrate on soft-silk-slip and scalp-tug-tingle. She managed to lever her lips into a smile. “You’re a squad boss, after all, one of the most important men on the crew. How many seasons have you worked?”

She breathed out a silent prayer of thanks as he took the bait at last. She didn’t bother to listen to his answer. She nodded and looked impressed and made the occasional encouraging little noise, and Seth did all the rest. She was bored out of her skull, but at least he wasn’t needling her any more.

In fact, he seemed to be loosening up. His smile grew broader and bolder the longer he monologued. A couple of times he even brushed against her shoulder or arm, as casually as if they were close friends. Edith tolerated it with gritted teeth, trying not to give any hint of distaste. That would have been terribly rude, and Rory had been very clear that no one should provoke Seth.

Rory, she thought as Seth’s knee bumped against hers yet again, you had better appreciate this.





Chapter 20





“Huh.” Rory nudged the dead hawk with the toe of his boot. “Is it just me, or was that weirdly anticlimactic?”

There was no doubt that it was the right animal. The cursed thing had led him and Callum on a dizzying chase through the sky, evading every attack no matter how they’d tried to pin it between them. It had ducked through ravines and made clever fake feints with an intelligence that no normal hawk possessed.

And then, just when it was almost between his claws at last, it had swooped down low, taking cover under the tree canopy…and apparently dropped dead of its own accord.

“Are you sure you didn’t get it?” he asked Fenrir.

The hellhound’s tongue was lolling out nearly to his knees, his black sides heaving. He’d followed them on the ground, ready to catch the creature if it sought cover. Wish could claim this kill, Birdcat. But found it like this. Dead meat.

Rory gingerly poked the sad pile of feathers again. His griffin was radiating smugness, pleased by the successful hunt, but he didn’t share its satisfaction.

He’d been trying to capture the animal, not kill it. It wasn’t just a matter of hoping to learn more about it, and its connection—if any—to the lightning-creature. No matter how suspiciously it had been acting over the past week, it hadn’t actually done anything to them, after all.

“Maybe it hit a tree during that last dive,” he said, feeling guilty.

Callum hunkered down next to the body. He turned the hawk over with his bare hands without the slightest hint of hesitation. His face showed only cool curiosity as he manipulated the limp head.

“Neck’s not broken,” he reported. “But there’s blood on the beak.”

“Not mine.” The hawk had snapped at him a few times, when he’d come within reach, but hadn’t managed to mark him. “It didn’t get you, did it?”

Callum shook his head. He bent closer over the hawk, his eyes narrowing even further. “Odd. Look at this.”

A rustle in the undergrowth interrupted them. They all tensed, but it was only Blaise and Joe, pushing their way through the bushes. They were both out of breath and grumpy-looking.

“Good. You got it.” Blaise pulled her clammy t-shirt away from her stomach, flapping it to cool down. “Did you have to chase that thing through every damn bramble-patch on this stupid mountain?”

“We didn’t exactly get it.” Rory raised an eyebrow at her. “And you could have flown, you know.”

“I couldn’t have.” Joe scrubbed a hand through his curly blue-black hair, bits of leaf and twig showering down on his broad shoulders. “Next time you decide to chase something, Rory, please make it a fish. Or a beautiful woman. Something that plays to my strengths.”

“I hope there won’t be a next time,” Rory said. “Though I have a nagging instinct this isn’t over yet. That was too easy.”

Blaise shot him a dark look, still panting. “Speak for yourself.”

Fenrir, who’d been sniffing at the dead bird, suddenly jerked his head up. He sprang away, erupting into ear-splitting barks. Callum instantly shifted into his pegasus form, his spread wings accidentally bowling over Blaise and clipping Joe round the ear.

Rory reached for his griffin, ready to shift himself. “What is it?”

Fenrir danced stiff-legged at the base of a tree. Squirrel!

Rory sighed, letting his animal sink back. “Not again. Is there anything important about this squirrel, Fenrir?”

Yes. Fenrir sank back to his haunches, quivering with eagerness. His blazing eyes stared intently up into the leaves. Is squirrel.

Blaise rolled to her feet, dusting off the seat of her pants. “What is it with you and the squirrels, Fen?”

“One day I’m going to have to eat one just to find out what all the fuss is about.” Joe rubbed the side of his head where Cal had whacked him. He cast an aggrieved glare at the pegasus. “You’re lucky I didn’t shift on reflex. I’d be scraping you off the grass with a shovel.”

Callum shrank back into human form, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

The squirrel retreated further up the tree, climbing rather slowly. One leg dragged as though injured. Apart from that, it seemed to be a perfectly normal squirrel.