Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(54)

“So if you aren’t griffins,” she said faintly, “what are you?”

“Pegasus,” Callum said, as if simply stating that his hair was red.

Joe waved a casual hand. “Sea dragon here.”

Fenrir barked. The dog stood up, shook himself…and blurred.

Edith jammed her knuckles into her mouth, biting back a shriek. She shrank back in her chair as the enormous, bristling thing padded toward her on feet the size of dinner plates, claws clicking ominously.

The creature stopped, tail drooping. Red eyes like burning coals gave her a distinctly wounded look.

“You can’t act all injured,” Rory told the monster that had been Fenrir. “What did you expect would happen, springing your full shift form on her without warning like that?”

The monster grumbled low in its throat, sinking back onto its haunches.

Rory’s mouth quirked, as though someone had said something funny. “Yes, but I’m not a hellhound.”

Edith unstuck her fist from her mouth. “H-he’s a shifter too?”

“Yeah,” Blaise said. She was perched cross-legged on the back of the battered sofa, behind Callum. “There’s a reason I told you not to let him sleep on your bed.”

Rory shot a dark glare at the hellhound. “That better have been her idea, not yours.”

Fenrir looked as innocent as a pony-sized wolf with hellfire eyes could look.

“Um.” As much as Edith tried to tell herself that he was still Fenrir—sweet, clever, loyal Fenrir—her monkey hindbrain was screaming wolf wolf run aieeeee! “Can he turn back into his real self now, please?”

“Actually, he can’t.” Wystan didn’t look round, still busy checking Callum for concussion. Cal winced as the paramedic shone a penlight into his eyes. “Or at least, he claims he can’t. He’s always in his shift form. He can tone it down enough to pass as a regular dog, but he isn’t a dog who can turn into a hellhound. Somewhere under that fur is a man. Animals can’t be shifters.”

Fenrir rumbled again, showing a hint of fang.

“You are a shifter,” Rory said firmly. “No matter what you think.”

Edith looked from one to the other. “Wait, you can understand him?”

“Yes, but not the way you think. Hellhounds talk to their pack members telepathically. We’re his pack, so we can hear him in our heads.” Rory rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. “In fact, the rest of us can talk to each other mind-to-mind too, since we’re all mythic shifters. Sorry.”

Edith was confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

Rory blew out his breath. “Because we’ve occasionally done it in your presence, to talk about things we couldn’t share with you. I know you felt excluded. I’m sorry for that.”

“It was unconscionably rude of us,” agreed Wystan. “Please accept my sincere apologies, Edith.”

“Mine too,” said Joe, his usual grin sliding away for once. “You’re our bro, Edith. We should have been straight with you from the start.”

The others nodded as well. Even Fenrir hung his head, tail curling against his belly.

Edith looked round at all their solemn, disconsolate faces. A giggle bubbled up, turning into a full-blown belly laugh. She toppled sideways, shaking with uncontrollable mirth.

Now they were all staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Understandably.

“We broke her,” Callum said.

“N-no,” she hiccupped out. “Can’t you see how funny it is? All this time, I thought it was me. I always miss things that everyone else finds obvious. But for once it’s not because I’m autistic!”

She hadn’t meant to say it. The word had just slipped out, carried on her wave of giddy relief. Her laughter caught in her throat. She froze.

Blaise started giggling. Joe joined in as well, with his loud, unrestrained whoop of exuberant joy. She found that she was smiling again too, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Oh man.” Blaise wiped her eyes, shaking her head. “Is that what you’ve been hiding from us all this time? That must have been awful for you. And all along we were keeping our real selves secret too.”

Callum’s mouth actually crooked up. She’d never seen him smile before. “Ironic.”

A warm hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up at Rory’s profile. His eyes were on the rest of the squad, but his voice was pitched for her alone.

“I told you that I needed someone whose quirks matched ours.” Heat seemed to flood out from his touch, filling her with fire. “You fit with us. We all know that. I hope that you do too.”

Fenrir crept forward. Tentatively, he laid his head in her lap, as he’d done so many times. Out of sheer habit, she scratched behind his ears. His tail wagged.

And just like that, it didn’t matter that his eyes were red flames, or that her leg instantly went numb from his weight. He was himself, and she was herself.

And they were exactly as they should be.

Rory’s hand tightened a little on her shoulder. When he spoke, though, it was to Wystan. “You haven’t told her your animal, Wys.”

Edith shook her head, grateful for the distraction from the confusion of emotion welling within her. “By this point, I’m not going to be surprised if he turns out to be a unicorn.”