Firefighter Unicorn (Fire & Rescue Shifters 6)

“Hope,” he said, very softly. “I’m sorry.”

She thought for a moment that he was refusing, and her heart gave a weird lurch of combined terror and triumph—yes, hold out, I can take it, oh God this can’t be happening—but then he stepped back into the center of the cage. His form shimmered.

No! she wanted to shout, as he shifted. And then, when she saw what he was: Oh, no.

The unicorn’s silver light shone through the cage, striping the concrete floor with stark black shadows. The enclosure had been plenty big enough for a man, but the steel bars pressed cruelly into that gleaming white hide.

The great muscles bunched. Sparks flew as silver hooves struck steel, and Hope caught her breath. Surely no mere cage could contain all that shining power, surely the walls would buckle and fall away under the force of his kicks…

But there just wasn’t any room. No matter how the unicorn twisted, he didn’t have space to lash out with his full strength. He couldn’t even turn his head. The long silver horn stuck out the front of the cage, trapped between the bars.

“Oh, you beauty,” Gaze breathed.

The unicorn bared his teeth, ears flattening as Gaze reached for him. One of the huge hooves stamped, shaking the floor. His horn rattled against the bars of the cage…but the unicorn couldn’t pull back as the basilisk shifter ran a possessive hand down the spiraling, gleaming length.

“Eternal life,” Gaze whispered. “Or as good as eternal. I shall restore myself to youth and health again and again. Everything I’ve built so far will be insignificant compared to the power I will hold.”

Forgotten, Hope flopped to her side. She writhed her upper body, dragging her limp legs over the concrete regardless of how the rough surface abraded her skin. If she could get close enough, she could bite Gaze in the ankle, or drag him down, or, or something. Anything.

Anything to stop what she was certain was going to happen next.

“Close your eyes if you want,” Gaze said, taking off his glasses. He tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Though I suggest you let me hold you still for this part. It’ll only be worse for you if I don’t.”

Hope squeezed her own eyes shut. Partly out of fear of catching the edge of the basilisk shifter’s stare. Partly because she couldn’t bear to watch.

Ivy, Ivy, Ivy! she shrieked helplessly in her mind, over and over. Her sister had to be coming, she had to be almost here, she couldn’t let this happen…IVY!

She heard the saw blade whine. She heard the desperate clatter of hooves.

She heard a terrible, inhuman scream.

Hope’s eyes jerked open again at the stench of acid-burned metal—just in time to see Ivy explode through the front wall in a storm of teeth and fury. Gaze flung himself to the side, taking cover from the wyvern’s deadly breath behind the cage. An instant later, Ivy’s scorpion-barbed tail smashed into the concrete where he’d been standing.

Hope was distracted from the battle by something hot and wet slurping against her ear. She shrieked through her gag as a huge black dog appeared out of nowhere, straddling her prone form. She beat at its gaping maw with her bound hands, futilely trying to push the animal away from her face.

“No, it’s me, it’s me!” Suddenly it was human hands pulling away the soggy remnants of the gag rather than a dog’s slobbering jaws.

“Betty?” Hope gasped in shock.

Betty jerked at the chain binding Hope’s wrists, trying futilely to break it. “Hold still. I can bite through this, but I have to—”

She broke off abruptly, pushing Hope down to the ground and covering her with her own leather-clad body. Hope hid her face in Betty’s shoulder as a shower of steel fragments blasted over them.

“NO!” Gaze howled.

Peeking out from under Betty, Hope saw Ivy lunge for Gaze again. The basilisk shifter dodged, his form shifting and elongating.

The world went dark as Betty’s hands clamped over Hope’s eyes. “Hey!” she protested.

“Don’t look!” Betty raised her voice, yelling across the room. “Ivy, Hugh, shut your eyes! He can kill instantly when he’s shifted!”

Heart hammering, Hope could only huddle against Betty, trying to interpret the sounds coming from the battle. Snarls of anger, the crash of teeth against scales, a chilling hiss of triumph—

Light blazed through her closed eyelids. Not the pure white light of the unicorn, but a wilder, red-orange blaze.

“Close your eyes, basilisk,” said a voice as cold as death. “Or I will burn them from your head.”

Instinctive panic filled Hope as heat licked at her bare shoulders. Betty tightened her grip, holding her still despite the firestorm raging all around.