Fire Reborn (Shifting Fire Book 1) Page 7

  But this wasn’t a dream, and Marclan’s heavy arm suddenly felt suffocating as she shrugged it off and turned to face the dragon shifters.

  “What do we do now?”

  Apparently, the three dragon shifters really seemed to care about her.

  Well, two did. One seemed to tolerate her.

  This thought circled around in her mind as she sat in the small cottage. Daromir had said that the only people who could go through the wards were people who meant her no harm, and sure enough, all three brothers had stepped into the cottage without any trouble whatsoever.

  It was quite possibly the most perplexing issue to come into Katra’s life, phoenix shifter status notwithstanding.

  The little cottage itself was, simply put, completely quaint, and also completely not what she was expecting from the extravagant and quixotic Daromir. He was odd and quirky and anything but ordinary, so seeing the interior of the tiny cottage decorated with a few, small pieces of handmade furniture and not a single decorative vase or painting or mirror was downright bizarre. She would even go so far as to say there was no way this place could have really been Daromir’s. It just didn’t fit.

  But she really liked the small sofa she was currently curled up in, with a mug of tea steaming away in her hands. It was Marclan who had put the kettle on the gas stove to boil, not even asking if she wanted any tea, simply taking the initiative as soon as his eyes fell on the kettle beside the stove. He had then begun shifting around in cupboards until he found a box of loose leaf jasmine tea, the same tea that was currently wafting its soothing scent into Katra’s nose, easing her addled mind.

  “I think the first order of business is to find out as much as we can about Alekter. He’s clearly not the person he made himself out to be, but damn if he isn’t a fucking fantastic actor.” Kaster’s gruff voice filled the space abruptly, and Katra glanced up at him from her cup of tea as he paced the short length of the cottage, arms crossed and head down in concentration.

  Or perhaps irritation. It was hard to tell.

  “What does he look like?” Katra asked curiously.

  “A crazy old kook.” Finley responded dryly. “But, you know—one in his late 20’s.”

  Kaster reached into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone, swiping his finger over the screen and then tapping quickly. “I’ll put a line out to some of our connections. Since there were other people after her, then who knows how many people heard about the hit he put out. Someone might have more information on him.”

  Were there still more people out there wanting to bring her in to this mysterious Alekter? She really hoped that Daromir’s wards he placed on the cottage lived up to their owner’s reputation.

  “You know…it would really help to know just what kind of shifter you are.” Kaster’s rough voice was aimed at her.

  She felt her hackles rise as her gaze fell on his, though she refused to back down to the silent accusation resting there. “And how would that help?”

  “What if he’s looking for a certain kind of shifter? Maybe he’s searching for someone in particular, not just a thief, but a type of shifter that he needs for something. From the way Daromir was talking, this Alekter has some very bad plans, and it seems like you’re directly tied in with those plans. The only reason I can see for that would be due to the type of shifter you are.”

  Katra crossed her arms tightly over her chest, not only as a sure-fire way of making clear that she was not offering up that information any time soon, but also as a silent mockery of Kaster, who’s arms were crossed in much the same way. It was a ‘two can play at this game’ gesture, and she was able to see its obvious effectiveness from the increasing intensity in Kaster’s gaze as it briefly flicked down to her arms before moving back up to her eyes.

  “You don’t need to know anything about me.”

  It was clear in Kaster’s eyes that he felt her demeanor was a challenge as the muscles in his biceps bulged, and if it were possible, he seemed to grow even taller right before her eyes. It was a clear intimidation tactic, though not one that would work on her.

  Marclan must have seen it as well, because he took that moment to step between Kaster and Katra, both hands up and facing outwards towards the two in a placating manner. He was quite obviously the peacemaker of the group as he glanced back and forth between Kaster and Katra with undisguised anxiety written on his face. “Look. We’ll see what we can dig up with the information we have and go from there. Let’s just wait and see what comes up. Okay?” His eyes were glued on Kaster now, as if he were fully aware that the dragon shifter was the one who needed the most calming.

  Katra was completely fine with that way of thinking. Let them think she was harmless.

  The attempt at peacekeeping seemed to ruffle Kaster’s proverbial feathers even more, and his heated glare turned on Marclan. “Always trying to make things better, aren’t you? Ever since we were kids, trying to fix everything. Thought you would have learned by now that you can’t make it all better. None of us can.” With that, he stomped out of the cottage, off to gods only knew where.

  The look on Marclan’s face was almost enough to break Katra’s heart, if it weren’t already broken in pieces at her feet, and she watched with growing sympathy as he quietly made his way to the back of the cottage, where a small back door led out to the jagged cliffs. His entrance was considerably less dramatic than Kaster’s, almost as if he were afraid to disturb anyone by leaving.

  It could not have been clearer to her at that moment that Marclan the dragon shifter was gifted with a heart too big for this world.

  “So, um…if you don’t mind my prying…I’m guessing your mom is gone too.”

  Katra jumped, almost spilling some of the tea in her handmade mug, and she peered over at Finley in surprise as he stood at the end of the sofa. Every time her focus would zero-in on one of the shifters, it was like the rest of the world fell away, like it ceased to exist for just that one moment in time.

  She shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds, not quite willing to answer.

  “Our mother is gone, too. She died when I was 12. Our father died at the same time.”

  Her discomfort increased. She’d never had any experience with comforting someone who’d lost a loved one, being that she’d never been around anyone long enough to get to that point, but she felt as though she was supposed to say something to make him…feel better? She wasn’t even sure if he actually felt bad at the moment, considering his loss had happened so long ago.

  “Yeah. She died when I was 7.” If she couldn’t comfort, she could at least state the facts.

  Finley nodded, not in agreement, but understanding. “That’s young. Do you remember her well?”

  Katra took a deep, shaky breath before shaking her head. “No. It’s more like…bits and pieces. I remember her in certain moments. And I remember the kind of woman she was. Strong. Forceful. Where my dad was quiet and contemplative, my mother was vibrant and lively. She was a southern woman, and she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do. She was very territorial, like her lioness, but mostly only with people, not things. There was never anyone as fierce as her.” She felt a welling sense of pride at being able to describe how amazing her mother was.

  Finley remained quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “About your father…”

  “Um…yeah?” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was comfortable talking about her father yet, and even though she’d just gone into as more detail about her mother than she’d ever thought herself capable of doing, the loss of her father was too fresh in her heart and mind, and Finley was still a complete stranger. What right did a complete stranger have to share in her recent loss?

  Although, technically, due to her lifestyle, everyone was a complete stranger.

  “Was he a historian? I saw a lot of historical volumes back at that cabin you were at when we first found you. Some of those…some were first editions, hundreds of years old.” Finley moved to s
it at the other end of the sofa as he spoke.

  Ah. This was something she could happily talk about.

  “Yes. He was a historian, specifically a supernatural historian. He knew pretty much everything about everything. He knew all the details of every war—his favorite was the War of Elves back in the late 1400’s, when the dark elves and light elves battled over the Blessed Realm—and he could tell you every single little event that led up to them. His favorite thing to study though was rare and extinct supernatural races, which is really difficult, you know, since there is so little information about them. All he really had to work with was myths and legends, stories passed down from person to person. You wouldn’t believe how many people he’s interviewed in his lifetime. He’s traveled the world to track down as many stories as he can, from Tibet to Lithuania to Burundi to Peru to Somalia to Russia. He’s been to every landmass multiple times. But…most of that was before I was born. When I came along, he stopped. I mean, granted, he cut back a lot on his traveling when he met and married my mother, but…with me, he stopped altogether. He never stopped reading, though, and over his life he had acquired many friends around the world who would send him historical volumes when they were able to. I remember this one time, he received a package in the mail, and when he opened it—dear gods, you’d think someone was killing him with how loud he was yelling. My mom freaked out and knocked over a chair running into the kitchen. She just about killed him when she realized it was just a few parchments about hellhounds. I mean, they were really, really old parchments—might have even been written on papyrus for all I know and looked like they were going to crumble into dust at any second—but still…she wasn’t pleased.” Katra smiled and chuckled softly at the memory as she glanced over at Finley.

  The expression on his face was one she recognized instantly, because she had seen it on her father’s face more than a few times. It was complete and total fascination.

  Finley was a history fanatic.

  “You’re a total history nut, aren’t you?” She couldn’t help the slow grin that crept up her face as she watched him blink in surprise and quickly shut down any and all expression. “No, no—it’s too late for that. I’ve seen that look a million times every time my dad would read about history, or even just talk about history. You totally get off on it, don’t you?”

  He looked completely aghast. “Well, now, I wouldn’t say I ‘get off on it’…”

  Katra’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “Oh yeah? So tell me—if you had to choose between a girl and any one of my dad’s historical volumes, what would you choose?”

  His mouth opened and closed before his eyebrows drew together in frustration.

  “Yeah-huh. That’s what I thought. It’s okay. We all gotta be in love with something.”

  Finley sighed with half-hearted irritation. “Yeah, well…don’t tell the ladies in on that little bit of information, okay?”

  Leaning forward, she lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey Finley.”

  He leaned forward as well and dropped his voice to the same level as hers. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t even know any ladies to tell it to.”

  His head fell back as he guffawed loudly, and his hand smacked against her thigh once, causing her to jump in surprise. “You’re quite the girl, you know that? Just make sure, if you ever do happen to fall into acquaintanceship with a lady, that you don’t tell her.”

  “Cross my heart.” She made the motion of crossing her heart as she spoke. “But if you want my opinion? Eh, well—I’m gonna give it to you whether you want it or not. In my opinion, it shouldn’t matter. The right girl won’t give a flying fuck if you’re cuckoo for history. In fact, the right lady will love that about you. Buuuut, then again, it kinda sounds like you’re not really looking for that type of lady. Am I right, Mr. Player?” She quirked a sarcastic grin in his direction, thoroughly enjoying this rare opportunity to joke with and tease someone as if…well, as if they were friends.

  He placed his hand over his heart in feigned insult. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a gentleman, thank you kindly.”

  “A gentleman who’s conquests number in the upper hundreds?”

  His eyes narrowed to glare at her. “Hey, now. First of all, I do not ‘conquest’. I am not a conquistador. I just happen to enjoy women’s company, and they enjoy mine. And also—low hundreds, thank you kindly.”

  It was Katra’s turn to laugh, something that sounded strange and slightly off to her, seeing as how it was not an act she engaged in frequently. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” She wiped a few tears of laughter from her eyes.

  They were silent for a moment after that as she sipped her quickly cooling tea and stared out the window at the cloudy, grey sky overhead. It was a beautiful place, no doubt of that, and she could easily see herself living the rest of her days in a place like this, quietly minding her own business and reading books, or perhaps learning to garden. Maybe she could even read books that teach you how to garden. It sounded fantastic.

  And highly unlikely.

  “I guess your father’s underlying knowledge of rare and extinct supernaturals was pretty useful when you guys discovered you were a phoenix shifter, huh?”

  Chapter 5

  The cup of jasmine tea slipped from Katra’s hands, and by the time it hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces, she already had one of her .45’s in her hands that she’d pulled from where they were tucked into the back of her jeans. She pointed the lethal weapon at Finley as she moved as far into the corner of the couch as she could, already mapping out the fastest way out of the small cottage as she watched him with barely veiled aggression.

  “Whoa, whoa! What the hell?” Finley’s hands were raised in surrender as he stared at Katra in shock, clearly not expecting this reaction from her. He watched her warily, his gaze flicking between her eyes and the firearm held inches from his face.

  “How do you know?” Katra’s voice was hard and unforgiving as she glared at the dragon shifter. Was this why he’d talked to her like they were friends? Was he trying to steal her trust so he could easily turn around and betray her?

  “At the cabin—when we first found you—Marclan threw a paralyzing spell at you. The guys were two busy focusing on your dad, but…I saw your fire magic. I saw it eat through the spell like it was a snack. It was truly amazing—you’re truly amazing—and I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt you. I said that when I shifted, and it’s true now, as much as it was then. I’m a historian, remember? I know how dangerous your power can be in the wrong hands. I know that a phoenix shifter’s magic can eat through any magic short of divine or demonic magic. There is no way I would let that kind of power fall into the hands of someone like Alekter. And, to be frank, I kinda like you. I’d actually feel pretty bad if something happened to you.” He slowly lowered his hands as he watched Katra’s expression shift slowly from aggression to wary apprehension as she contemplated his words. “I’m not going back on my promise, Katra. I will never, ever cause you harm. If you want, I won’t even tell the guys.”

  Slowly, Katra lowered the gun. She continued to stare into Finley’s honest, ocean-deep eyes, and she felt herself unwillingly being pulled into acceptance. There was no telling why, but she truly believed every word this shifter was telling her, even though a lifetime of running and hiding was trying to argue with her. Her heart and soul were saying it was okay. He was okay.

  She had to be losing her mind.

  “Don’t tell the guys. Not yet. Especially not Kaster.”

  Finley chuckled softly. “I get it. I know he seems kind of…rough. He’s not a bad guy, I promise. It’s all a front. An annoying, frustrating front, but a front nonetheless. He’s a good guy who’s trying to help us survive. We don’t…we don’t have anyone other than each other. It’s been that way since we were teenagers. He’s been the one who’s had to take care of us, even at such a young age, and it’s made him fe
el like he has to be harsh and indifferent, but the truth of the matter is that he’s anything but indifferent. But I won’t tell them. Although I’d like to hope that you will one day.”

  It was a stretch to think that she would ever reveal anything so intimate and dangerous as her shifter animal to Kaster, but since she felt a kind of friendship blossoming between herself and Finley, she decided to at least humor him as she nodded.

  It wasn’t a promise, per se, but it was as close to one as she was willing to give at the moment.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been able to escape detection for this long, though. I mean, I’m sitting right next to you, and I still can’t tell what kind of shifter you are. How is that possible? No, wait, don’t tell me—let me guess. Daromir. He worked some kind of magical bamboozle on you to keep you hidden from the supernatural world, didn’t he? He seems like the kind of guy who can pull that shit off. Sorcerer, right?”

  Katra was acutely aware of the runes on her back, almost as if they had come to life as soon as Finley mentioned them, but her primary focus was elsewhere. “I’m sorry, did you just say magical bam—"

  “What the hell happened here?” Kaster’s deep voice boomed through the cottage, startling Katra into lifting her gun again, only this time in his direction. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch as his gaze fell on the weapon, and he only lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “Apparently, this particular gun was used by William Brechter, the famous vampire hunter from the 1920’s. I still can’t believe it, and I’m really hoping I might be able to convince her to let me buy it. This is a real, ivory-inlaid handle here, man. Can you even imagine how many vampires were taken down by this gun? This is freaking priceless.” Finley’s smooth, cultured voice rolled over the lie like he was talking about the weather—or, in this case, like he was talking about history, with that same excitement and fascination he’d had when she was talking about her father’s love for history. Even though she knew everything he said was a lie, she almost believed it was the truth. He was just that good.