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5

JAMES

Is it wrong to be thankful for a fire?

Well, not thankful. But I came so close to spilling my secrets to Callie, closer than I've ever come to spilling them to anyone else. Neither Hank or Will are aware of the truth about me, and I plan to keep it that way. I know they'll claim to still look at me the same, but I've seen the anger in their eyes when they talk about the king and his coven. They won't forgive me if they find out I used to be part of that.

Not for the first time, guilt over my past floods through me.

"We're here," Hank says, an uneasy tinge to the words.

One look out of the window at the blaze, and I understand completely.

Fuck. Something in my stomach twists. This is not good. Not good at all.

"Is it wrong to think this is going to save us time?" Will quips as he eyes the fire in horror. It’s a harsh attempt to lighten the dread we’re all feeling, and it falls flat, as I’m sure Will already knows it will.

I look at the burning house of the mother of the king. The dowager queen, Her Royal Highness. I hope she isn’t in there, but know it’s a possibility.

"I don't think it is," I mutter, a bad feeling spreading in my gut. "This feels magical."

Neither of them answer me. There's no real need for them to. If one of us says we sense magic, the others believe him. We don't say things like that without it being true.

We jump out of the truck, pulling on our helmets and going through the motions of getting the truck ready to extinguish the fire. We've practiced this enough times to be able to do it without communicating.

I glance over to Sugar, relieved to find she's put a jacket and helmet on Callie, too. She looks adorable. The sleeves are too big for her, and they trail past her fingers.

Pulling my attention back to the job at hand, I check on Will and Hank to see if they need my assistance yet. Assured they don't, I stride over to Callie and slip an arm around her.

She jumps before recognizing me and relaxing into my arms.

Fool. I chide myself for taking her by surprise. That's not a nice thing for me to have done.

"It'll be alright," I assure her. “Stay back, and we'll have it out in a moment." I don't tell her where we are. It won't help the situation if she's stressed about whether or not we'll get the answers we need.

If I'm honest, I'm trying not to think about why that might be. I’ve been at this long enough to know the only way to get this job done is to compartmentalize until it’s over. Worrying about the people inside comes after the fire is out, especially in one as advanced as this one.

"James, you ready?" Will calls over.

I nod and pull away from Callie, regretting the helmets that stop me from kissing the concerned look from her face.

"Be safe," she squeaks.

"It'll take more than a fire to hurt me," I retort before realizing how arrogant that makes me sound. But my salamander side protects me from flames; they can't be used against me. To be honest, it's a more useful trick than shifting.

I pull on one of the hoses, aim it at the house and wait for Sugar to turn on the water. The heat from the fire bounces off my skin. It's wrong, given the disaster happening in front of us, but the heat helps refill my bank of power. Part and parcel of being a salamander. A part of the disaster gives me strength and energy.

And guilt.

Well. Technically, I’m half salamander. I can't claim the full status of most of my kind. One of the many reasons I don't spend any time with other salamanders. They wouldn't accept me even if I did want to claim my heritage.

It only takes an hour for us to get the blaze under control, but with the magic lacing the flames, I don’t think that it would have gone out without our help. From the size of the flames and the way they only attacked certain parts of the house, there’s even less doubt in my mind that this blaze was magical.

I wiped the sweat off my brow, only to hit the hard plastic of my helmet instead of my forehead. It was too easy to forget we were wearing them at times.

The house still stands in front of us, though some of the rooms appear to be reduced to nothing more than ash. I have a bad feeling about this. The dowager isn’t outside, and the most likely place she’d be is in front of me. I don’t know who’d dare attack her so blatantly. Alright, I do.

I exchange glances with Will and Hank, making sure they’re as confident that the fire is out as I am. Both are covered in black streaks of soot from head to toe. No doubt I am, too. The part of firefighting we’ve just done is always the most exhilarating, but now it’s over, the reality of the next bit sinks back in. I’ve been lucky enough that most of the fires I’ve attended weren’t fatal, but enough of them have been to prepare me for what we may find inside. Except that this time is different.

"What now?" Sugar asks as the five of us converge in a circle next to the truck.

"We need to go in and check for survivors," Hank says, not mentioning that we need to look for the Dowager's remains. We're all conscious of Callie standing by us and don't want to upset her.

With some of the house still intact, I suppose there is some small chance of survivors, but with the magical nature of it, I’m doubtful. Dread sits in the pit of my stomach, but I push it away. Emotions can get in the way of what we have to do.

"It seems unlikely anyone survived that," Will whispers, echoing my thoughts.

"Will and I will go in," I say, making the decision none of us wants to. If any hotspots flare up, we won't be injured. "Hank and Sugar can stay with Callie." As much as I want to be the one to stay and comfort Callie, I can't put the others in danger when, as far as I know, I'm the only one who can be completely unaffected by fire. Even though Will is a fire mage, I don't know the limits of his power. I don't think he does, either.

No one argues, which doesn't surprise me. No one wants to face what's inside the house, but we know we have to.

The stench of wet ash intensifies in the air the closer we walk.

"This isn't good," Will says, all of his normal levity completely disappearing.

"I don't know if that even covers it." I kick a fallen timber out of the way. "How could this happen?"

The look he shoots me says it all. I sigh.

"That's not what I meant," I correct myself. "The dowager would've had protection spells on the place. It seems unlikely that the ding managed to break through all her defenses now. The timing is too circumspect." If they already knew where she lived, then they must have been trying to get through her protective spells for years; there's no other explanation for it.

"It does seem odd. Maybe she wanted them to come?"

"Hmm." If she's in here, then the answer to that is no. But if she isn't, then perhaps it's all part of her plan.

"You don't think she let down the guard spells so we could find her, do you?" Will asks.

"It's a possibility." But it doesn't seem likely. We already knew where she was, like a lot of the other rogue witches around here. We just never had a use for the information. We never would've given it to the king.

The doorframe is still smoking when we pass through, but I pay it no mind. There are no flames, and that's what we're here for.

"I'll take the left, and you take the right?" Will suggests.

I nod. Splitting up may not be the wisest thing to do, given that the witches are hunting us, but the less time we spend in a compromised building, the better. "Yell if you need me."

The hall I turn down has barely been touched by the fire. Photographs line the wall. I glance at each of them as I pass, the curiosity about who the dowager is getting the better of me.

Something catches my eye in one of the photos, and I stop, even taking it off the wall. It's clearly old, like the photos my mom has of my childhood. In it, a young dowager stares at the camera with a wide smile on her face. But it isn't her I'm interested in. It's the woman next to her who looks like Callie with darker hair.

What's going on? Why does the dowager have this hanging in the hall of her home?

I consider taking it from the wall, but it belongs to the dowager, and I don't want to annoy her if she turns up and realizes I've touched her possessions any more than necessary.

"James!" Will's voice echoes through the house, the tone revealing what he's found, even if I can't see it yet.

I backtrack through the house and into the back room. One glance is all I need to know; this is where the fire started. Heat and magic linger in the air, and embers glow from the remains of an armchair. One that was occupied when the flames started.

"I think we have a problem," Will says. His voice is sad as he looks at the chair.

"Just a small one." The dread returns. Or uncovers itself, I’m not sure which. But with a potentially unstable house around us, I need to focus. I'm about to ask what we do next when a scream sounds from outside.

We exchange a worried glance as flames leap to Will's hand, ready to help Hank and defend Callie and Sugar, who are no doubt outside with the witches converging on them.

Our footsteps thud against the charred floor as we rush out into the night.

"How dare you?" a woman yells as she rushes at Callie.

Callie throws up her hands, but the woman, curvy with long dark hair, grabs her. "I didn't do anything," Callie insists. She's struggling against the woman's grasp on her arm.

They swing around so we can see the mysterious woman's face, and my heart sinks as she continues yelling at Callie. "She came to help you; of course, you did something."

"I don't know what you’re talking about," Callie insists, shooting a pained look at Hank, who is trying to get to her, but an invisible barrier rebuffs him.

There's only one person this woman can be. "Step away from her, Fran," I warn. I've never met her, but whispers of her relationship with the Dowager have floated through the town for years.

She lets go of Callie's arm, and relief floods through me. Maybe there's a chance we can get out of this without her causing more of a scene or hurting anyone.

"What are you doing here?" Fran demands. "You know this wasn't a natural fire. No amount of water in the world would put it out."

Well, that confirms my thoughts that it went out when it was supposed to and no sooner.

"Our jobs," Will mutters under his breath.

Sugar snorts, but I ignore her.

"We're doing what we can," I tell her evenly. "We got here as soon as we could. I'm sorry, but?—"

"Phoebe's dead," she blurts. "I know."

I swallow down the lump in my throat. Of course, she does. They had bonded, as the rumors said. I've heard stories of how painful it is when a bond-mate dies.

Without meaning to, I glance at Callie.

No. I can't think like that. Especially not with the looks she keeps throwing at Will . "Tell us what happened, Fran?" I whisper.

She sighs and runs a hand over her face. "I wasn't here. She sent me out to get cookies to go with her tea." Fat tears roll down the woman's face. My heart breaks for her, but this isn't the time to deal with her grief. We all need answers and fast. "She must have known this would happen."

"I don't think she did," I assure her. "She wanted us to bring Callie by as soon as we found her."

Fran swings around so that she's focused on Callie again.

" You ," she hisses. "Everything was always about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Callie stammers.

"If you're so good and powerful, then what are you doing here? Why are you doing nothing? You should have protected her!" Fran's tears have turned furious.

I want to do something, but without all of the information, I'm a bit stuck.

Callie's jaw straightens. "I'm sorry, Fran, is it? I don't know what you're talking about." Callie's voice shakes, but she stands her ground with a determined look on her face. She isn't going to be intimidated by anyone. A wave of affection floods through me, but I push it to the side.

Later . That's when I'll have time to explore how I feel towards her. Later.

A bitter laugh bursts from Fran's mouth, pulling me back to what's happening and away from my errant thoughts. "No one cares she's dead, do they?" It's almost a scream. Magic crackles around Fran's hands. I recognize the sparks. She wants to let loose. That amount of power could bring the stars from the sky.

I want to tell Callie to move behind one of us, but I don't think that's the best idea right now.

"Of course I care," Callie yells back. "Anyone dying is sad. But I don't know what's going on here."

"Argh!" It's too much for Fran, and bright shards of lightning rip through the sky, crashing down around her, too close to Callie for comfort. Callie squeals and ducks, covering her head with her hands.

"Hank, Sugar!" I shout, hoping the two of them get the message to pull Callie out of the way and get things back under control. I gesture to Will to go around Fran's left side. If we can become the points of a square, we may be able to contain her magic.

That's a big if .

More lightning cracks down. Callie shrieks and jumps back.

"Oh no." The words are so quiet, I'm almost not sure I heard them, but then Callie disappears into a pile of clothing. A ginger cat streaks away from the pile. I sigh loudly, but part of me is relieved. At least if she's in cat form, she can get away unharmed, even if it does bring up more questions than answers overall. There's no doubt in my mind that she can't control her shifts.

As much as I want to run after her, I know we won't be able to find her. We have to hope she has enough control to get the cat to take her back to the firehouse.

But for now, we need to focus on getting Fran's magic under control. I have no idea if Sugar will be able to do the magic we need, but it shouldn't matter so long as Hank told her to get into position while I watched Callie-cat run away.

We can do this.

The lightning grows more and more uncontrollable. I've heard of this happening to witches who experience extreme grief, but it's rare. And it almost always ends with them dying. We can't have that. Fran knows something that'll help Callie, and we don't want to lose that knowledge. We need to contain it and fast.

And save her life. No one should die like this.

Everything passes in a blur, with the four of us dodging bolts of electricity as Fran sobs in the middle of us.

I bring flames to my hands and send them out to Will and Hank on either side of me. Their magic binds with mine. It's only after a few moments that I sense an icy coldness to the magic. That's new. And then it hits me.

Sugar .

One glance atthe woman on the opposite side of me reveals I'm right, as sparkling white magic comes from both of her hands. It doesn't surprise me. Most shifters can do magic. Even I can, and I'm not a full-blooded witch.

I step inward, as do the others, closing around Fran and containing her magic. I hope this doesn't hurt her. But that hardly matters now. We have no choice anymore. This is the only way we have to get control of the situation.

The woman between us sobs more, each cry going straight through my heart and almost destroying me. Will I feel that way if something happens to Callie? That's not something I should be thinking about. Not yet. We barely know her.

All four of us are within touching distance. I nod once, and we place our hands on Fran's shoulders. Our magic snaps into place, and the lightning stops. I breathe a sigh of relief. No one is at risk from the errant bolts of magic now it’s bound inside Fran. The bind won’t last forever, but it should last long enough for some of her grief to pass.

“Fran?” I say her name, but she doesn’t respond.

“You know Callie didn’t do this, right? She doesn’t have powers. She didn’t know who the dowager was. We brought her with us to keep her safe.”

Her eyes close, and a tear slips down her face. “I know.”

My chest aches. “We’re so sorry.”

Will shifts uncomfortably. “She was a good woman.”

Fran doesn’t react. She just stands with her eyes closed with tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m not sure if there’s anything we can salvage from the house,” Hanks says, “but if there’s something you need, we could look.”

She still says nothing.

"We'll take you back to the Firehouse and make sure you're safe," he adds.

"Callie has a spare room," Will muses. "It'll be best to go there. Nobody knows where she lives yet."

I nod, but Fran doesn't answer.

Sugar sighs dramatically. "I'll go get the things she'll need. You get her into the truck," she insists.

We all know she doesn’t mean clothes. A lot of witches had tools they’d inherited from family or otherwise held a special meaning to them, and leaving them in an unattended and easily accessible house would be careless of her. And there’s the advantage that something from there may help comfort Fran when she comes out of her current state.

"You can't go in there; it might still be on fire," I warn her.

She laughs. "Remember the bit where I told you I'm a dragon?" She raises an eyebrow.

I want to smack my hand against my forehead. How had I not put two and two together before?

Sugar didn't wait for me to come to this conclusion and is already striding towards the house.

"It's probably a job for a woman anyway," Will mutters.

I snort. He's got that right. I'd have no idea what Fran will need now that her home has been destroyed. It feels rude to snoop around their home, and a woman doing it is far less intrusive. But I can get Fran into the truck. I bend down and scoop her into my arms. She barely moves, her sobs softening into a constant stream of tears.

My heart breaks all over again.

With one last glance at the house, I head back to the truck. This is going to make things a lot more complicated. And not because we've lost Callie again.

However, that isn't going to help anything.