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  “I’m Rory MacCormick, Wystan’s squad boss.” He had a distinctly Scottish accent, his rs rich and rolling. “Sorry for barging in on your date.”

  Out of sheer reflex, Candice shook his hand. “It’s not a date. Don’t worry, I was just leaving.”

  “But you can’t!” A tall blonde woman wearing turn out gear elbowed Rory aside. Before Candice quite knew what was happening, the woman had her hand in a two-fisted, bone-crushing grip, and was shaking it vigorously “Hi! I’m Edith. I’m Rory’s mate.”

  Candice blinked at her. She didn’t sound Australian.

  “Partner,” Rory corrected gently, his thick arm settling across Edith’s shoulders in a way that made it clear they didn’t run a small business together.

  “Right, that’s what I meant.” Edith leaned against her—boyfriend? Husband?—beaming widely. Her snub nose and freckled cheeks gave her a cute, coltish air, which was entirely belied by the strength of her grasp. Candice was starting to lose feeling in her fingertips. “Anyway, you can’t go. We won’t let you.”

  “Uh.” Candice managed to extricate her hand at last. “What?”

  “You’d be making a terrible mistake.” Edith’s tone was earnest, but her gaze slid sideways, avoiding meeting Candice’s eyes. “You’d be throwing away something wonderful. We can’t let you do that to Wystan. Or yourself.”

  Candice stared left and right. Two more firefighters—a curvy black woman and a glowering red-headed man—had moved to flank Rory and Edith. A grinning black man loomed behind them all, his towering height dwarfing even Rory. They all had their feet set and braced, as though ready to repel a charge.

  Candice turned back to Wystan. “What the hell is going on?”

  He looked, if anything, even more confused than she was. “I have no idea. Is there some sort of emergency, Rory?”

  “Apparently.” Rory cocked a tawny eyebrow in Candice’s direction. “Since, unless I’m very much mistaken, your m—ah, your date was about to storm off in a huff.”

  “Still not his date,” Candice snapped, bemusement starting to give way to annoyance. “Also, it’s none of your business.”

  “Afraid it is.” Rory shrugged one shoulder. “We’re a squad. We look out for each other. And right now, it’s pretty obvious Wystan is in dire need of help.”

  Candice’s half-formed suspicion that Wystan had put his squad mates up to this withered and died in the face of his obvious alarm. He looked as though he was now minded to run away.

  “Oh now you don’t, bronicorn.” The black man barred Wystan’s way, grinning like a wolf. He pushed Wystan back down into his seat. “Trust me, you’ll thank us for this later.”

  Wystan had gone even paler than normal. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I very much doubt that.”

  “Okay, now this is just getting weird.” Candice folded her arms, glaring around at them all. “So, what, you’re all Wystan’s wingmen? You all going to tell me how great he is, so that I’ll swoon into his arms?”

  “Nope,” said the curvy black woman next to Edith. There was a distinctly wicked gleam in her dark brown eyes. “I’m gonna tell you a story about something he did when he was twelve.”

  Wystan made a strangled noise of pure horror. “Blaise.”

  Candice hesitated.

  Then she sat down.

  “Okay.” Whatever Wystan’s colleagues had to say, it was clear he very much didn’t want her to hear it. That was good enough for her. “I’m listening.”

  The woman flipped a chair around, straddling it backwards. Rory pulled up two chairs too, holding one out for Edith. The red-haired man remained standing, a few steps from the table as though not really part of the group. He stared into the distance with the air of someone who was trying to block out irrelevant chatter in order to concentrate on something more significant.

  “Blaise Swanmay,” the woman introduced herself, taking one of Wystan’s fries. Licking her fingers, she pointed at the redhead, then at the towering black man still standing behind Wystan. “That’s Callum, and over there is Joe. We’re all hotshots on A-squad.”

  Rory also stole a handful of Wystan’s fries, passing some to Edith. ”Now, the first thing you need to know is that we all grew up together.”

  “Apart from me,” Edith interrupted.

  “Yeah, but it feels like you’ve been part of the family forever,” Blaise said to her, wicked grin softening with affection. She turned back to Candice. “But the rest of us really have known each other forever. Our dads are firefighters back in England, on the same engine crew. That kind of thing leaves a close bond. So Wystan’s like my brother from another mother. And we’re the same age, so we went to school together.”

  Wystan buried his face in his hands. “Blaise, would it do any good if I begged for mercy?”

  “None whatsoever,” Blaise informed him. She held up her hands, framing Wystan in a rectangle formed of her forefingers and thumbs. “So, let me set the scene. Picture Wystan, age twelve. Hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet, mop of white hair falling into those huge green eyes, totally adorable.”

  “Bambi in human form,” Joe put in.

  Wystan raised his head to shoot his squadmate a pained look. “Thank you for that marvelously manly comparison, Joe.”

  Blaise continued, “Now not only does he look like he stepped off a Christmas card, he’s a total teacher’s pet. Straight A’s, volunteers for everything, always polite. Literally, the school poster child—his angelic little face is plastered all over the front cover of the brochure. You get the idea.”

  “Huh.” Fascinated, Candice examined Wystan, trying to see the kid he must have been. “How the heck did you survive to adulthood? I’m amazed you weren’t beaten to a pulp within two weeks.”

  “Oh, the bullies tried.” Rory’s white teeth flashed in a rather feral smile. “Once. Go on, Blaise.”

  “Please don’t,” came Wystan’s heartfelt plea.

  “So there’s Wystan.” Blaise turned her hand to point at herself. “And then there’s me. Early bloomer. Busting out everywhere, zits all over my face, just a wrecking ball of hormones. Complete ugly duckling, right?”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” Candice couldn’t imagine Blaise as anything other than totally at home in her body. The hotshot exuded confidence. “Since you evidently turned into a swan at some point.”

  Blaise’s smile flickered, just for a second. “Not quite. Well, anyway, you know how kids are. So I’m going around swathed in five layers of sweaters trying to pretend none of this is happening. Which of course makes me a prime target for our resident school assholes, despite Rory’s best efforts. The mean kids are circling around me like sharks scenting blood. And then one day in the middle of English class there’s literally blood. All over the seat of my pants.”

  Candice winced in feminine empathy. “Oh man. That happened to me once or twice in high school. Our resident assholes were utter jerks about it too.”

  Edith’s hands fluttered through the air in an odd gesture, as though even the thought of such an embarrassing nightmare made her shake with nerves. Evidently this story was new to her, too. “What did you do, Blaise?”

  “Nothing,” Blaise said. “I couldn’t. I just sat there, paralyzed with humiliation, feeling this damp spot spreading out underneath me. I knew what it was, and I knew that as soon as I stood up, everyone would see. Even if I managed to be the last one out of the classroom, there was no way I was going to be able to make it all the way to the bathroom without someone noticing, and then it would be all over the whole school. So I just sat there in silence, wishing the ground would swallow me up. And Wystan, who was sitting next to me, noticed. And he asked me what was wrong.”

  Wystan appeared to be trying to slide under the table. Joe, standing behind his chair like a police escort, fished him out again by the scruff of his neck.

  Blaise raised her eyebrows at Candice. “Imagine that one of your best friends has just confessed that she’
s got her period in the middle of class. Imagine that you’re twelve. Imagine that you’re a twelve year old boy, teacher’s pet, star student. What do you think you’d do?”

  Candice shrugged. “Blurt it out to the teacher?”

  “Wystan,” Blaise paused dramatically, “took off his shoes.”

  Candice blinked. “What?”

  “He took off his shoes,” Blaise repeated, drawing out the moment. “And undid his belt, and all his zips and buttons, so quietly that even I didn’t realize what he was doing. Until he abruptly threw off all his clothes and jumped onto the desk butt naked.”

  “Wystan?” Candice and Edith said together.

  Wystan looked like he was earnestly wishing a naked distraction would appear now. “I was twelve. I panicked.”

  “Utter. Pandemonium,” Blaise said with relish, while both Rory and Joe chuckled. “Wystan raced around the room, little white buns twinkling, all the while yelling stuff like ‘I am not a number! For the rebellion! Carpe diem!’ and evading all attempts to catch him. Then he streaked out the door, teacher in hot pursuit, and naturally the entire class pelted after them because this was some class-A entertainment. Half the boys were throwing off their own clothes too, just for the sheer hell of it.”

  A slow grin spread over Candice’s face. “And in the meantime, you…”

  “Wrapped Wystan’s discarded shirt around my waist, borrowed his trousers, and got myself cleaned up in the bathroom without anyone the wiser,” Blaise said with great satisfaction. “And that’s how Wystan mooned the entire school.”

  “And ended up with a suspension and four months of compulsory therapy,” Wystan said, now face-planted onto the tabletop. “Thank you so much for telling that story. It was certainly the most critical thing Candice needed to know about me at this point in time.”

  “Yes, it was.” Blaise pointed at him, angling her head to catch Candice’s eye. “By nature, this man is the most polite, proper, modest guy you will ever meet. And when someone he cares about is in trouble, he’ll do literally anything to make it better.”

  “Without a second of hesitation,” Joe added.

  “And, most importantly,” Rory finished, one big hand settling on Wystan’s shoulder, “in the most complicated, self-sacrificing, and above all idiotic way possible.”

  Candice looked at the cringing Wystan in bemusement. “If these are your friends, I’d hate to meet your enemies.”

  “They mean well.” Wystan looked around at his squad, his expression caught somewhere between fondness and utter mortification. “I think. Callum at least has my sincere thanks.”

  Candice glanced up at the red-headed man, who had yet to say a word. “You aren’t joining in this roast, or intervention, or whatever the heck this is?”

  Callum raised one shoulder in the tiniest of shrugs. His handsome face still wore that abstracted frown, as though he was trying to listen to something none of the rest of them could hear.

  “Just give Wystan a chance.” For someone who evidently didn’t talk much, Callum had an unexpectedly gorgeous voice—deep and mellow, with the faintest trace of a lilting Irish accent. “He’ll surprise you. Rory.”

  Callum didn’t say anything more, but Rory’s back stiffened. Candice’s skin prickled as the squad’s relaxed attitude evaporated, every one of them suddenly focused and alert. It was like sitting in the middle of a wolf pack that had just scented a stranger approaching.

  Edith slapped Rory’s upper arm, frowning at him. “Don’t do that. It’s rude.”

  “Do what?” Candice asked, confused.

  “Sorry.” Rory grimaced at her apologetically, though she still had no idea why. “Squad thing. Like we said, we’ve known each other a long time. Sometimes we don’t need to use words. Cal, are you sure?”

  Cal’s chin jerked down in a curt nod. For no apparent reason, his expression had shifted from preoccupied to downright grim.

  Rory blew out his breath. He reached for the radio clipped to his belt. “Then I’m sorry, Candice, but I need to steal Wystan from you for a moment. We have a problem.“

  Chapter 11

  Wystan was already was on his feet, along with the rest of the squad. Their collective tension thrummed in his mind down the pack-bond that they all shared.

  “What’s going on?” Candice had seemed to be loosening up throughout Blaise’s appalling anecdote, but now her shoulders tensed again. “Wystan?”

  “My apologies,” he said, distracted. Rory was already striding away, murmuring into the radio. The rest of the squad had fallen into step around him, huddling around to catch Buck’s words. “There may be an emergency. Please, promise me you won’t go anywhere for a minute?”

  He’d braced himself for an annoyed retort—no promises, bud—but to his surprise Candice regarded him in silence for a long moment. There was something new in her sharp eyes, a kind of thoughtfulness that hadn’t been there before the squad’s intervention. He couldn’t interpret her expression.

  “Okay,” she said at last. She toyed with her drink, swirling the water around the plastic cup. “I’ll wait.”

  He hesitated, nonplussed. “If Blaise’s tale somehow caused this change of heart, I’d like to inform you that I have dozens of equally embarrassing childhood incidents.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched up. “I’ll bet. Go on. I’ll be here.”

  Rory and the others had moved far enough away to be out of earshot from Candice or any of the other humans in the immediate area. Wystan hurried after them, though he made sure to keep Candice in view out of the corner of his eye.

  “…Callum’s sure?” Buck was saying over the radio as Wystan joined them.

  “Positive,” Rory said. “It’s the Thunderbird. It’s right on the limit of his range at the moment.”

  “Not anymore,” Callum added. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on his pegasus talent for sensing living creatures. “It’s coming in fast. Heading straight for us.”

  “Well, isn’t that just the cherry on this cow pie,” Buck growled. “Never seen our feathered friend this far from its home territory before. If that cursed thing started this fire in the first place, I swear I will serve it up for Thanksgiving dinner with a side of motherloving mashed potatoes. Well. Time for you to get to work, A-squad. We can’t have that thing hammering any lightning down into this dry tinderbox of a fire camp.”

  “We’re on it,” Rory said, his jaw setting. “We’ll get in the air, meet it head-on. We won’t let it start any fires.”

  “Do better than that,” Buck said, sounding grim. “Take it out for good this time. Buck out.”

  “I thought that thing only hung around Montana,” Blaise said as Rory clicked the radio off. “What the hell is it doing all the way out here in California?”

  Everyone else looked stumped, but Wystan’s mind was racing. “Every time we’ve seen the Thunderbird, it was hunting that demonic snake creature. That might be why it’s here now.”

  “You think there might be more of those monsters?” Joe said. “Oh, joy.”

  “Callum, can you sense anything?” Rory asked the pegasus shifter.

  Callum shook his head. The pegasus shifter’s expression was as cool as always, but his jaw clenched, betraying his frustration. “Just the Thunderbird. I think. Hard to tell through all these people.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything, though,” Blaise said. “When that creature was possessing animals, it just seemed like a normal rabbit or hawk to your senses, didn’t it Cal?”

  Callum nodded, looking unhappy. “I couldn’t even tell when it was possessing Rory.”

  “If there is one of those monsters around,” Joe said, “I bet I know what it’s after.”

  They all exchanged glances.

  “The baby unicorn,” Edith said, voicing what they were all thinking. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “The demon went after me because it wanted my powers,” Rory said. He’d gone a little
pale under his tan, the traumatic experience clearly still fresh in his mind. Edith took his hand, squeezing it. “When it was in me, I could feel how hungry it was, how delicious our souls seemed to it. A real unicorn would be irresistible to one of those creatures.”

  “I agree, but let’s not ignore the possibility that the Thunderbird could be after the unicorn,” Blaise said. “Maybe it doesn’t like any supernatural creatures. It certainly doesn’t like us. Remember how it tried to roast us all?”

  Rory shook himself free from his memories, squaring his shoulders. “No matter the Thunderbird’s motives, we can’t let it start any fires. Joe, Blaise, Cal, with me. We’re going to intercept it.”

  “I’m coming too,” Edith said firmly. “You needed me last time.”

  Rory touched her face, his golden eyes warm. “I always need you.” His tone turned business-like again. “Wystan, you and Fenrir stay here. Guard the unicorn.”

  And our mate, his own unicorn put in. It was agitated, pacing back and forth in his mind, horn lowered and ready.

  “Of course,” Wystan said, to both Rory and his own animal. “I’ll shift and guard the trailer in unicorn form. That way no one will see me and ask awkward questions about why I’m hanging around.”

  “Good plan.” Rory gave him a distracted smile. “Tell Fenrir what’s going on, and stay alert. Let’s go, team.”

  The squad followed Rory, heading for a shadowed, private area behind a nearby supply trailer in order to shift. Ordinary humans couldn’t see mythic shifters in their animal forms, but they did tend to notice when people vanished into thin air.

  Candice was still sitting at the table, watching him across the dining area with that impenetrable expression. He hadn’t the faintest idea what she was making of all of this, but he had a sinking suspicion that it wasn’t helping his case.

  “Are you being called away?” she asked as he returned.