“We arrived too late for it to matter,” a soft voice said from behind him. “I regret that, Midas. I truly do.”
When he turned, he found Ayla Clairmont standing nude at the apex of her pack, who had kept their fur.
“She was an exceptional woman,” she continued, “and we owed her a debt of gratitude for what she did for the warg community.” She lowered her head. “She will be missed.”
“Thank you,” he said, his throat tight with fervent hope these condolences meant nothing, that Hadley was alive and waiting for him to toss that rope and haul her to safety.
The Clairmont pack left the way they had come, and Ayla paused to kiss the cheek of the old man who had hung back to wait his turn.
“She would have been here sooner if I had listened,” Garou confessed. “I have fighters, and the numbers are on my side. She came to me for help in order to end this plague on our people, and I haggled with her.” He spread his hands. “It’s in my nature, but that doesn’t make it right.” He nodded toward the pit. “Hadley was an exceptional young woman. Linus chose her well. I am sorry for your loss.” He scratched the weathered skin over his heart. “Losing a mate changes a man. I hope you weather it better than I did all those years ago.”
“Thank you,” he said again, glossing over the fact Hadley would have dismantled his corrupt empire, brick by brick, given time.
Garou took his Loups and began the long walk back to the city. Wargs his age were tough, but he was old, and it showed in the way the beta kept flush to his side. Walking out as a man, with no way to defend himself, was a show of power. A statement that he held his people in check through his will alone. But the enforcers required to keep the more eager wargs back hinted that change might be coming to their hierarchy sooner rather than later.
“You’re lucky,” Remy said once they were alone. “You keep your clothes when you shift.” A shudder rippled through her shoulders. “That guy has to flash his prunes every time he changes forms.”
Despite it all, Midas huffed out a quiet laugh. “Wargs are more in tune with nature than us.”
“Plenty of folks love nature without walking around balls-out in it.”
More laughter spilled out of him, a welcome release, and that’s when her motive for playing nice with him registered. Remy was doing for him what Hadley would have done in her place, proving Hadley had been right about her.
The sirens, deafening in their proximity, drew Midas’s attention toward the ambulance and fire trucks he hoped were manned with paranormals of one flavor or another so he didn’t have to work up the energy to explain this. But when Bishop waved him over, he somehow found the strength to move.
“Water will disrupt her ward,” the fireman was saying, “but it’s the easier fix.”
“How about the safest fix,” Midas growled. “She could be boiled alive.”
“We’ve got a salamander on the squad,” he said, eyeing Midas warily. “He can climb down, assess the risk. We’re going to do our best to get her out of there without a scratch.”
The rumble in his chest was constant, and he couldn’t form words around it.
“She’s only got so much air in that bubble,” Bishop said under his breath. “One way or another, we have to move in the next half hour.”
“Send in the salamander,” Midas grated out, his ruined voice garbled. “Check her status.”
The fireman raised a hand, and a boy with three chin hairs to his name sprinted over. “Do what you do.”
The teen saluted him then burst into flames on the spot, burning down until a lizard the size of a cat stood on his boots. Its red skin shimmered as if fire lived in its veins, but its yellow eyes were sharp and determined as it skittered off to the pit.
“Dangerous,” Bishop murmured then faced the fireman. “What made you recruit him?”
“Aubrey started volunteering at our old station when he was twelve. He was fascinated by fire, obsessed with it, and his foster mother worried. We put him to work sweeping, cleaning the trucks, helping cook.” The man shook his head. “We knew he was a special kid, but we had no clue how remarkable until he hit puberty.” Deep lines bracketed his mouth. “He combusted in his sleep one night and burned down his foster parents’ house, with them in it.”
“That’s how it goes,” Bishop lamented. “The awakening. He had no choice in the matter.”
“That’s what we told him.”
“I take it he didn’t listen?”
“They were the closest thing he had to parents. He still grieves for them.” The fireman grabbed his clothes and shook out the ash as if this were routine. “We gave him a permanent bunk after that and let him live at the station. We put him to work to show him he can make a difference.”
“You’re a good man,” Midas managed. “You gave him a shot at having a normal life.”
No foster family would touch Aubrey after that, not knowing he was a juvenile salamander capable of incinerating anything or anyone that got him mad. With a teen chockful of hormones, anger was a given. He had to learn control, or he would be exiled to one of the deserts since killing them was nearly impossible.
“It was a group effort,” he grunted. “We all wanted him to succeed. Now he’s a full-fledged member of the crew.”
While they waited, the captain wandered back to his people to check in with them about dousing the fires. Bishop watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“They’re a pride of lion shifters,” he decided. “Given how many lizards get eaten by housecats, it’s an odd fit for them
