Firefighter Phoenix (Fire & Rescue Shifters 7)

The pegasus shifter flung up both arms in triumph. “Ten points!” he declaimed to the room in general.

Rory groaned. “Conleth, why the hell can’t you three get different haircuts?”

“Ah now, where would be the fun in that?” Even though they’d all grown up together in Brighton, Conleth’s voice held a faint lilt of an Irish accent. He’d inherited his father’s lanky build and boundless energy too, though his red hair and sparkling green eyes were all Connie. “And now I’m ahead of Connor. It’s double points for fooling a griffin shifter.”

Rory shook his head, but accepted Conleth’s enthusiastic hug of greeting. “I’ve been away too long. I used to be able to tell you three apart without thinking.”

“Well, you only have to be able to spot bloody great forest fires, out there in the arse-end of America.” Conleth held him out at arm’s-length, grin widening. “No wonder your eyesight is atrophying. You were looking for Connor?”

“Cal, actually.” Rory glanced around the pub. “He is here, right?”

“Oh, he’ll have found somewhere to lurk and scowl disapprovingly. Hang on, I’ll get him for you.” Conleth tilted his head, his eyes going vague for a moment.

Rory concentrated, but could only catch the edges of the pegasus shifters’ mental conversation, like overhearing voices three rooms away. It generally took close familiarity to be able to talk telepathically to another mythic shifter when out of eyeshot. He had been away too long.

“He says he’ll join us in a moment,” Conleth reported. His mouth quirked. “And he said to tell you that he’s in uniform, so you can be sure to recognize him.”

Sure enough, the tall, red-headed figure that stepped out of the crowd a few minutes later wore charcoal-gray dress slacks and shirt, the insignia of the East Sussex Fire & Rescue Service embroidered on his sleeve. Even without that clue, Rory wouldn’t have mistaken him for either of his brothers.

Whereas Conleth slouched at ease, Callum’s back was ramrod-straight, like a soldier facing a court-martial. His face was as closed and set as his brother’s was open and affable.

Rory had been about t

o clap him on the shoulder in greeting, but the impulse withered in the face of those cold green eyes. Rather awkwardly, he offered his hand instead. “Hey Cal. Good to see you again.”

Callum’s chin dipped in a fractional nod. He made no move to shake his hand. “Conleth said you wished to speak with me.”

Cal had always been reserved, compared to his brothers…but then, a full three-ring circus was quiet compared to those two. Now, he was positively glacial. All of Rory’s instincts screamed at him that something wasn’t right with his old friend.

“I did. Do. Yes.” Concern swamped his pre-planned speech. “Cal, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

And apparently that was all Callum had to say on that topic. Rory cast a glance at Conleth, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed that his identical brother appeared to have been replaced by a robot sometime in the past eighteen months.

“So what’s on your mind, Rory?” Conleth said cheerfully. He draped an arm over Cal’s rigid shoulders. “Not going to try to tempt my brother away to the wilderness again, are you?”

“Actually, yes.” With an effort, Rory hauled himself back on track. “I’m setting up an all-shifter squad…”

Callum listened impassively as Rory went through his pitch. For all the emotion Cal showed, Rory might as well have been reciting his shopping list. In Hindi.

“I see,” was all he said when Rory wound down.

“I don’t know, Rory,” Conleth said. He was still leaning against his brother, which Cal was tolerating with the silent stoicism of a lamp-post. “Connor’s been bugging Cal to switch to smokejumping for months. I don’t think you’re going to persuade him to join a hotshot crew.”

“They’re not at all the same thing.” Rory couldn’t help his lip curling a little. “We are disciplined and efficient. Those maniacs are all reckless thrill-seekers. Uh, no insult intended to Connor.”

“It’s an accurate description,” Cal said, completely straight-faced. “My brother is right, Rory. I’m not a risk-taker.”

Rory blinked at him. “You may be in the wrong profession, then.”

“You know what I mean. Wilderness work isn’t like urban firefighting. I’ve heard Connor’s stories.”

“Connor literally jumps out of airplanes into forest fires. What we do isn’t nearly as insane.”

Cal’s eyebrows rose, ever so slightly. “So you admit that smokejumping is more dangerous?”

“Yes-“ Rory started to say—and then the penny dropped at last. “Oh, for the love of—Connor!”