Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(6)

Rory bit down on an apology. Instead, he jumped down from the truck. He’d soothe his squad’s ruffled feathers—and fur—later.

Right now, he had to protect them. Whether they liked it or not.

Even at this distance, he could smell the smoke from the wildfire. Adrenaline surged through him at the familiar, bitter taste.

Turning his face to the sky, he gave himself up to his griffin.

His beast surged up from his soul, eager as ever to be released. Golden fur wrapped round him, his body shifting smoothly into his other form. With a single leap, he launched himself into the air.

Acrid smoke blew into his beak. His transparent second eyelids—just like an eagle’s—flicked automatically across to protect his sensitive eyes. He searched through the dark haze surrounding the lookout tower.

There!

He could make out strange, bright flickers in the swirling smog, like sparks of electricity crawling through a thundercloud. They illuminated a black-on-black shape, a darker shadow in the midst of the smoke. A winged silhouette, far larger than Rory’s own size.

It hovered like a vast bird of prey over a small figure on the ground. It was hard to tell from this distance, but Rory thought it was a woman, running hunched over as though carrying something.

From the way she never glanced up at the looming monster, he suspected that she couldn’t see it. Many supernatural creatures—including himself—were invisible to normal human sight. But some deep instinct must have told her that she was in danger. She was sprinting flat-out for the safety of the lookout tower, as pitch-black talons spread above her.

His griffin roared in his soul, filling him with instinctive need to protect and defend. A fierce shriek of challenge burst from his beak despite the choking smoke. Folding his wings, he arrowed toward the half-seen creature, every talon extended.

The shadowy shape rolled in mid-air, evading his attack. Rory had a brief, confused glimpse of jagged wings, midnight claws, a blank white eye burning with captive lightning—and then he was past it, plunging down through thinning cloud.

He snapped his wings open, barely managing to pull up before he hit the flat roof of the lookout tower. The tips of his golden pinions brushed against shingles as he turned to attack again.

The world went white.

RORY!

His squad’s frantic telepathic shout blasted through his mind as a hammer-blow of searing hot air knocked him across the sky. He tumbled beak over tail, completely disorientated. Only his cat-like reflexes kept him airborne at all.

With a twist that left his spine aching, he managed to right himself, a good fifty feet from the tower. Rising thermals from the smoldering ground fire steadied his wings. His ears rang as though he’d been walloped by a brick. His entire team yammered in his mind, a chaos of concern.

I’M FINE, he roared back. Stay out of this!

Sparks still snapped from the bent lightning rod rising from one corner of the lookout tower roof. It had saved his life, attracting the bolt that would otherwise have hit him dead-on. The churning clouds above the structure had gone black and dull, no longer seething with building electricity.

A chance!

This was his moment to strike, before the monster could summon the lightning again. Rory had no idea what sort of creature his unknown adversary might be, but he would bet his tail feathers that it needed time to build up a charge.

Of course, if he was wrong, his tail feathers would literally be toast.

He powered back toward the tower, cutting through the smoke like a knife. But his lion body and eagle wings were built for strength, not speed. Though he strained every muscle, his adversary was faster.

The smoke-shrouded creature spread its wings to full extent, shadowing the mountain. The massive pinions swept down with a sound like a thunderclap. Rory had to fight against a gust of wind as the creature shot upward.

*What was that?* Wystan exclaimed telepathically, echoed by a territorial snarl from Fenrir.

I have no idea. Rory slowed to a glide, watching the vast silhouette arc across the sky, trailing storm clouds. But whatever it was, at least it’s thought better about sticking around.

In the space of a few breaths, the unnatural winds around the lookout tower quieted. In their absence, the forest fire calmed as well. Thick plumes of smoke still rose from smoldering undergrowth, but at least the wind was no longer whipping flames into a frenzy and tossing embers about like confetti. A lot of the forest floor was already burned to black, all available fuel consumed by the abnormally fast blaze.

Reluctantly, Rory turned his attention away from his retreating opponent and onto the more immediate problem. Balancing on the breeze, he scanned the forest with a practiced eye, assessing the situation. To his relief, the flames hadn’t yet reached the tower.

In fact, they couldn’t reach it.

His beak dropped open in surprise. A fireline protected the structure. It was hastily dug and a bit narrow, but effective. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that one of his own crew had cut it.

He opened his mind to his squad as he swooped down. It’s safe. You can all come up here now.

How very kind of you, boss. Rory winced at Blaise’s acid tone. She was clearly smarting from his use of the alpha voice on her. What’s the situation?

Under control. He landed to inspect the fireline more closely. The flames on the far side were dying away, blocked from reaching any further fuel.

Even though the lookout tower didn’t seem to be in any immediate risk from the fire, Rory still had a sense of unease. Instinct screamed that there was something wrong here.