Page 8 of Fire Bird

“I can’t. Not now.” I push my fingers through my hair and head for the caves.

“When?” Tanner catches my elbow. “You’re doing a good job of hiding it, Sam, even from yourself but—”

I stop and brace my hands on the small of my back. When Tanner steps in front of me, I fix my gaze on his. “I can talk about Nova because I believe it’s going to be okay. I’m not faking it, Tanner. I know we’ll see her again.”

“I know,” he says, a confused frown on his face.

“But I can’t talk about Nico, and I can’t talk about my—” I can’t say the word. It disintegrates in my mouth. “I can’t talk about them because, for them, it’s not going to be okay.”

Tanner inhales slowly. He doesn’t correct me or try to comfort me. Instead, we just stand together for a while in the darkness.

6

THREE DAYS LATER

MACK

Snow grumbles at me, but I tell him to shake it off. Literally. It’s only rain, buddy.

He hates the rain. Cold weather? Yep, he can deal. He’s a polar bear, of course he can. But rain? He hates it, and I have to admit I’m not the biggest fan either. It’s already penetrating our thick pelt. By the time we get back to the lake, our fur will be sodden and murky. The color of shallow puddles and dirty dishwater.

We stop and sniff the air. For three days, we’ve been patrolling the woods for a sign, or scent, or whisper of Nova. For the third day running, we have come across nothing more than the occasional dead rabbit.

Sam emerges from a thicket nearby. As a wolf, he is remarkably similar in composition to his human self; lithe but muscular, dark fur, dark eyes.

He sniffs the air too, then looks up at us. He finds it odd that he can’t communicate with us the way he can with other weres. I tried explaining that polars are different from weres, but a vacant look filled his eyes. A look that my students used to get when what I was saying was too difficult to truly understand.

Although Sam has grown up as a werewolf, he shares so many traits with Nova that I’m starting to crave his presence. He knows little of the supernatural world beyond what he was exposed to in the club and doesn’t have the first idea how magick really works. To him, other supers have always been nothing more than shadows in the dark. Glinting eyes and writhing bodies watching him suffer for their own enjoyment.

Now, he tips his head in an eastern direction, and trots off into the undergrowth. We follow him, a lot less discretely; where Snow and I go, a very obvious trail usually follows.

Ahead, Sam has stopped. He’s sniffing the ground and glances over his shoulder to indicate we should come closer. We dip our head and examine what he’s found; another rabbit, except this one is just a skeleton. Something has eaten the rest of it.

Wolf, I tell Snow. He growls in agreement.

Sam has recognized the scent, too, and his heckles are standing on end. I don’t need to read his mind to know he’s wondering whether Ragnor has finally sent his werewolves to track us down.

The lack of activity at The Hollow over the past few days has been alarming. Each day, one of us has ventured as close as we dare and reported back. None of us have seen signs of life inside the building. In fact, Luther was so convinced Ragnor had left that he insisted this morning we should try to get inside.

“Eve’s barrier’s still in place,” Kole had growled. “Which means they’re inside. They won’t leave until the ritual is complete.”

At that point, for perhaps the hundredth time, the two of them had begun to argue about whether or not we should be doing more than just waiting. Luther thinks we should try to break in and retrieve Nova’s blood. Kole disagrees. He believes we should wait.

So far, I’ve been keeping the peace by telling Luther we will wait a little longer. But I’m starting to wonder just how long that will be. How long until we have to admit that Kole might have been wrong?

Snow huffs at me. He hates it when I think like this. His faith is as unwavering as Sam’s; as far as he’s concerned, Nova is going to come back. No question. No doubt.

Next to me, Sam nudges the rabbit with his nose, then he stops. His muscles tense, his shoulders drop into a hunting position. A low grumble leaves his jaws. Then he pounces. Just like that, he hurls himself into the bushes.

There’s a bark, then a growl, then a yelp. In two steps, we are there and pushing the branches aside. Sam tumbles out. Another wolf follows. It is on top of Sam, going for his throat, but he manages to gain the upper paw and flips their positions. He’s on top of the other wolf, jaws around its throat, when it shifts.

Our blood turns to lava in our veins. Kayla.

Nico’s mother presses herself flat to the ground. Sam releases his jaws but doesn’t take his foot from her chest. “Please,” she mutters, “don’t.”

When Sam lets her go, Snow grumbles again. He doesn’t want me to shift back; he wants to rip her head from her shoulders and drag her carcass back to the others. But I need to know why she’s here.

It takes a lot of strength to overpower him. When he’s determined like this, it’s a matter of willpower. Except, it’s like I’m battling with my own mind. It has taken a lot of practice to get to the point where I can win.