by Zoe Chant
“The Thunderbird?” Conleth stared at Beth too. “What does that mean?”
“That she’s special,” Diana said softly. She gathered Beth into her arms again, pressing her forehead against her daughter’s. “Even more special than I thought.”
Beth rubbed her soft muzzle against Diana’s cheek, then wriggled free. She bounced over to Callum, leaping up at him. He caught her, and found himself with an armful of warm, cuddly baby rather than horse.
“Hello,” he murmured to her. “I’m sorry I went away. I won’t ever leave you again. That’s a promise.”
Beth looked up at him, her little face very serious. “Dada.”
Callum’s heart missed a beat. He stared over Beth’s head at Diana, who looked equally stunned.
“Callum,” Diana whispered. “Did she just say…?”
“Dada,” Beth announced again, firmly. She snuggled against his chest, fisting her hands in his torn shirt. “Dada.”
A flicker of movement caught Callum’s eye. Conleth was easing backward, away from them all.
“Conleth,” Callum said—and stalled.
On the long drive back to the base, Diana had told him about her conversation with his brothers. What they’d worked out, that he really was Beth’s father…
Callum wasn’t good with words at the best of times. Now, face to face with his brother again, Callum found he had no idea what to say. What he even wanted to say.
Conleth’s shoulders set, as though in preparation for a fight. “I…I’m sorry.”
Caught off-guard, Callum could only blink at his brother.
“For…” Conleth grimaced, making a vague, embarrassed gesture at himself, then Callum. “For driving you away.”
“That was my mistake. And you were only trying to do the right thing, taking responsibility for Beth. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” Conleth interrupted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching. “I meant…earlier. Much earlier. I’m sorry.”
Callum looked at him, and for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—he saw Conleth. Not a ghost from the past, or a better, more confident version of himself. Just Conleth.
His brother.
Callum went over to him. Conleth twitched a little, as though expecting a punch—and then started in surprise as Callum held Beth out to him.
“Look,” Callum said to Beth, because words came easier that way. “Can you say ‘uncle?’”
Beth beamed, reaching out for Conleth as well. “Gagabagaga!”
Conleth snorted, though his eyes were suspiciously bright. “You’d better not all start calling me that.”
“She’ll work it out.” Callum cuddled his daughter. “We all will. That’s what family does.”
“Absolutely motherloving not,” Buck said flatly.
“Oh, come on, chief,” Blaise cajoled. “It would explain so much.”
“You should at least consider the possibility,” Wystan added.
“I’ll give it all the consideration it deserves.” Buck folded his arms across his chest. “There. Done. No.”
“It was only a suggestion,” Diana said quickly, before any of the crew could continue badgering the surly Superintendent.
They were all gathered in the mess hall—the squad, Buck, Connor and Conleth. Beth had been passed around everyone at least twice, over the hours it had taken to explain what had happened. Now Beth was sound asleep on Callum’s shoulder, her head nestled against his neck.
Diana’s throat was hoarse from talking so long. She took a sip of her now-cold coffee before continuing, “I just thought, since you said that my mother and your sister were close friends, they might have had…well, more in common than we thought. Which means you might be like me.”
Buck scowled as though she’d viciously insulted his entire family. “I am not a motherloving shifter.”
“I don’t think I am either, exactly.” Diana fumbled to explain the connection she’d felt to the Thunderbird. “The horned serpent called me thunder-kin. There’s this story my mom used to tell me, about a Lakota woman who was so brave and true-hearted that a Thunderbird fell in love with her. Their children were great warriors, blessed by the storm spirits. I think my mother was telling me about my ancestors. I was too young to understand at the time, but she must have been preparing me to be claim my birthright.”
“We know now that hellhounds attacked Diana as a child,” Callum said. Under the table, his hand found hers. “At the command of the horned serpents. And later, they managed to murder her mother. You told us that your sister and her family also perished in a mysterious fire, Superintendent. That can’t be a co-incidence.”
Buck’s expression closed down, going hard and tight. His hands clenched together, knuckles whitening. He didn’t speak for a long moment.
“Wanda did drop a few hints about being in some kind of secret club,” Buck said at last in a low, defeated voice. “This ‘Storm Society’ you say the demon mentioned? It rings a bell. I thought she was just winding me up, the way big sisters do, but maybe…maybe there was something more to it.”
“I’m so sorry.” Diana wanted to reach out to him, but even shadowed by old grief, the Superintendent was still a fearsomely intimidating man. “It seems like the horned serpents made a concerted effort to wipe out their enemies, all those years ago.”
Buck rubbed his forehead, surreptitiously swiping at his eyes. When he looked up again, his glare was as fierce as ever. “Well, no overgrown dog or damn horny snake went after me. And I wasn’t some little kid they could’ve just missed. Whatever Wanda might’ve been, I’m not.”
“Maybe you are, and just don’t know it yet,” Joe suggested. “Diana didn’t realize her awesomeness right away, after all. Not until she was in imminent danger.”
“I’ve been in imminent danger more times than you’ve had hangovers,” Buck retorted. “I was a Marine. Believe me, there’s been more than once in my life when I’ve prayed for anything to come to my rescue, even if it was motherloving Tinkerbell. I still never knocked anyone on their ass by clapping my hands. Maybe it’s a girl thing.”
“I think Buck’s right,” Blaise put in. “He’s been face-to-face with the Thunderbird before, remember? And it just stared at him. Admittedly in kind of a weird way, but it certainly didn’t give him any magic powers.”
“He,” Diana corrected. “The Thunderbird is a he.”
Blaise shrugged. “If you say so.”
“What did he say to you, Diana?” Wystan asked curiously.
“I can’t really put it into words.” Diana shivered, in mingled fear and joy, remembering that powerful communion. “He doesn’t think in words. Or at least, he mostly doesn’t. There was a moment, right at the end, when I thought…”
“What?” Edith said, when Diana didn’t continue.
“I thought I heard a voice,” Diana said softly. “Though the storm. Just the barest whisper. A man’s voice. He said, ’Help me.’”
Rory’s forehead creased. “What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know,” Diana replied. “But I have a hunch he wasn’t just talking about his fight with the horned serpents. When I first felt the power of the wakinyan coursing through me, it was…overwhelming. It was only thanks to Callum that I wasn’t swept away entirely.”
Callum’s fingers tightened on her hand. “Not just me.”
She squeezed back, smiling at him. “You steadied me long enough for me to find my own feet. If you hadn’t been there…well, I don’t want to think about what would have happened. But I wonder if maybe it did happen. To someone else, who didn’t have that kind of bond.”
“You think the Thunderbird might be a person?” Edith asked. “Someone stuck in the wrong shape, like Fenrir?”
Fenrir, who’d been lying silently by the door all evening, lifted his head at last. His lip wrinkled back, showing his fangs. *Not stuck. Not wrong.*
Edith looked mortified. Her hands made a short, jerky motion. “I
’m sorry—I didn’t, didn’t mean—”
“He knows you didn’t mean it like that.” Rory put an arm around his mate, shooting Fenrir a warning glance over the top of her head. “Don’t you, Fenrir?”
Fenrir’s only response was a low, surly growl. He lay back down, pointedly facing away from them all.
“Hey.” Blaise wadded up a napkin and tossed it at the hellhound, hitting him in the rump. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’d like to know that too,” Buck said, eyes narrowing. “And I’m your boss, even if I do pay you in meaty bones. According to Callum, you had Lupa pinned down. And then you let her go again, meek as a lamb. Care to explain yourself?”
Fenrir stood up, abruptly shifting into his true, huge shape. Without a word, he faded into a shadow, and was gone.
Buck made an exasperated sound. “I’ll take that as a no. Motherloving shifters.”
Joe cocked an eyebrow, casting a significant look around at the rest of the squad. “We’re all thinking the same thing, right?”
“I don’t know,” Edith said. “But I think that Lupa’s his mate.”
“Me too.” Rory sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb. “Now there’s a complication.”
Wystan looked thoughtful. “Or possibly a solution. Love is a strange and powerful force, after all.”
“Undoubtedly.” Seren’s expression was grim. “But even so, I would not wish such a mate on my worst enemy.”
Edith nodded, her hands fluttering a little. “Poor Fenrir.”
“Well, all we can do is wait until he’s ready to talk about it.” Rory sighed again. “However long that takes. I just wish he hadn’t let her go. Lupa may have lost her pack, but I doubt we’ve seen the last of her. Or the horned serpents.”
“Probably not,” Joe agreed cheerfully. He gestured round at them all. “But look on the bright side. We’re alive!”
“Despite my idiot brother’s best efforts,” Conleth muttered.
“Hey!” Connor objected. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Not you. Him.” Conleth pointed at Callum. “By the way, congratulations, Callum. For flying off and nearly getting yourself killed, you are now officially my most bone-headed brother.”
The corner of Callum’s mouth twitched up, very slightly. “Considering the competition, I’m honored.”
“Hey!”
“Oh, don’t look so wounded, currently-second-most-idiot brother mine,” Conleth said to Connor. “No doubt you’ll manage to reclaim your crown tomorrow.”
Connor rubbed his chin, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful. “Huh. There’s a challenge. What could I do?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Callum and Conleth said together, in exactly the same dry tones.
Connor let out a loud groan, as his brothers exchanged identical startled glances. “Great. Now I’m the odd one out. You two had better not start ganging up on me.”
Callum and Conleth were still eying each other, a little warily. Then, slowly—first Conleth, then Callum—they smiled.
It was only a tiny hint of connection between the brothers, but it still made Diana’s heart soar. Under the table, Callum squeezed her hand again. She knew he could feel her joy and relief, just as she could feel his quiet, tentative wonder.
Diana cleared her throat, trying for a normal, casual tone, as though what had just happened had been no big deal at all. “Well, it’s getting late. We should get Beth into bed. Did you remember to unpack the cot and put it back in your cabin, Callum?”
Callum exchanged a sly, secretive glance with Conleth. “Not exactly.”
With a final satisfied moan, Diana collapsed onto his bare chest. She lay there for a moment, limp and panting, then propped herself up on her elbows to grin at him.
“Okay,” she said. “I have to say, it would be nice if Conleth didn’t live on the other side of the Atlantic. It’s great having a handy uncle to look after Beth overnight.”
Callum chuckled, pushing his fingers through her tangled hair. He kissed her, luxuriating in her soft mouth, the little hum of pleasure she made, everything about her.
She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hands ran over his bare shoulders, sending fresh heat through him despite their just-finished lovemaking.
“Mmmm,” Diana purred. She shifted her hips, deliciously. “You didn’t tell me shifters had superhuman stamina as well as strength.”
He nuzzled down the soft line of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Would you like a demonstration?”
She giggled, but tugged him back up again by his hair. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“There’s no need. I’m fine.” Thanks to Wystan’s unicorn friend Sunrise and her healing abilities, he didn’t even have bruises now. “Anyway, I am resting. I’m flat on my back.”
“Well, even if you aren’t tired, I am.” She rolled off him, stretching with a yawn. “And we have to get up early tomorrow. There’s a lot to do.”
With a grudging sigh, Callum desisted despite his rising interest. He spooned around her, folding her in his arms. “I know. I’ll need your help to make a list.”
“You and your lists,” Diana said fondly. “You know, it makes me wonder…”
She fell quiet. Something about the feel of the mate bond made Callum lift his head, studying her as best he could in the dimness.
“You’re thinking about something.” He brushed her hair back from her face, trying to interpret her expression. “What is it?”
“Nothing bad, I promise. It’s just…” She rolled in his arms so that she was facing him, nose to nose. “Callum, have you ever considered whether you might have ADD?”
He stiffened a little—this time, not in the good way. Even with the new, tentative bridges he’d started building with his brothers, he still had a knee-jerk reaction to being compared to them.
“You’ve seen Connor off his meds,” he said. “You really think I’m like him?”
“That’s not what I said. ADD, not ADHD. Attention deficit disorder, without the hyperactive part.” Diana touched his face tentatively, laying her palm against his cheek. “I had a friend at school who had it. For a long time, teachers just thought she was quiet and dreamy. They were always scolding her for being off in a world of her own. They didn’t realize for ages that her grades were so bad because she couldn’t focus, not because she didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t get bad grades.”
“No.” Diana’s thumb caressed his jaw. Her eyes were deep and warm and gentle. “You found ways to cope. But Callum, I’ve seen how hard you work to stay on top of everything. Most people don’t have to do that. Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t have to either.”
Callum reflexively started to shake his head…and then stilled, seeing himself through her eyes. The mate bond showed him exactly how she felt, how much she loved him. Just as he was, quirks and all.
She was his mate. She knew him.
Perhaps better than he knew himself.
Diana kissed him, very gently. “Think about it, okay?”
“I will.” He drew her closer. “I…already have, sometimes, if I’m honest. But I never wanted to admit that I might have more than skin-deep similarities to Connor and Conleth. Not even to myself.”
“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re different.” Diana kissed him again, more deeply. “Especially not me.”
He closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness of her mouth. His mate, his incredible, perfect mate. All his, as he was hers.
“I’ll talk to Conleth,” he said, when their lips had parted again. “About the meds he takes, the ones for shifters. If…if there’s anything that could help me focus, help me to not get distracted by the lives I can sense, I want to try. I’m going to have to spend more time in cities, after all. We need to take Beth back to Brighton, to see my parents. We might end up spending off-season there.”
Diana sighed, her expression turning more serious. “We still have so much to work
out, don’t we? Where we’re going to live, what I’m going to do while you’re away during fire season, how to fight the horned serpents…”
“Yes.” Callum kissed her again, cutting her off. He rolled onto her, pinning her underneath him, as her legs opened in welcome. “And we will. But not now.”
Epilogue
It was bizarre.
He was standing in a crowded room, in a crowded pub, in a crowded city…and yet, it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of the lives all around. He could just…not pay attention to them.
He could choose not to pay attention to them.
Conleth was watching him with a knowing air. “It’s like suddenly acquiring a superpower, isn’t it?”
“One that it turns out everyone else had all along,” Callum said ruefully. “I should have done this years ago.”
“True,” Conleth agreed. “Still, at least by waiting this long to get treatment, you got to go straight onto a known, shifter-appropriate formulation rather than suffering through every side-effect under the sun while the doctors tried to work out the right drug combination.”
Callum shook his head, still astonished at how easy it had all been. “Are there any side-effects I should know about?”
“Not really. Just make sure you stay off the booze. One secret baby is quite enough.” Conleth raised his glass of mulled apple juice in a toast that was only slightly sarcastic. “Welcome to the Stone-Cold Sober Club. Membership, two.”
Callum clinked his glass against Conleth’s. “The benefits are worth the price of admission.”
Conleth snorted as he drained his drink. “Now if only we could persuade Connor of that.”
Callum sipped his own warm, spicy apple juice more slowly, still watching the crowd. Before, he’d always avoided the annual private party at the Full Moon pub in Brighton. Being crammed into a small space with so many shifters, with colored lights twinkling and carols playing and the air filled with the scents of pine and beer and gingerbread…he would have been frozen in misery, not knowing which way to turn.