Chapter 12
Past
20 years ago…
Go back, go back, go back.
Blaze had a lifetime of experience in ignoring his beast. He ignored it now, flying steadily against the frantic pull urging him in the opposite direction.
Rose hadn’t wanted to leave him. No matter that she wasn’t safe as long as they were together. No matter that he was the Phoenix, while her own animal had no defenses against the predators stalking them. If he’d let her, she would have stayed at his side and guarded his back to her last breath.
He’d cheated, in the end. Used her fierce, compassionate heart against her.
“Rose,” he’d told her, cupping her angry, tear-streaked face in his hands. “We know how to free the other shifters now. I have to go back.”
It had been the one argument he’d known she wouldn’t be able to counter. And she’d had to admit that she would only be a liability on this mission. She’d snuck into the warlock base once—and the mere thought of how she’d endangered herself for him still froze the blood in his veins—but this was no longer a matter of stealth and subtlety.
He wasn’t going to infiltrate the base.
He was going to destroy it utterly.
He’d thought that his beast would revel in the prospect. But strangely, the fire fought him. He had to force every wingbeat, when normally he would have been able to arrow across the sky as fast as thought.
Go back, go back, go back.
He ground his beak, his talons clenching on nothing. Our animals are wiser than us, Rose had said to him, but there was no sense in the urgent tug of his beast’s instincts. No matter how they screamed at him that he had to be at his mate’s side to protect her, his rational mind knew better.
Corbin could track him. Until the warlock was dead, he couldn’t risk being near her.
He glanced up at the sun, judging the time. By now, she should have reached the airport. Soon she would be safely away, back to her own country. A warlock could theoretically open a portal even to England—though the effort expended would drain even a powerful shifter to the point of death—but why would they? Without his betraying presence at her side, the warlocks had no way of knowing where she’d gone.
He knew it was right for them to separate. He knew it was the only way to keep her safe.
But still: Go back, go back, go back.
He’d expected to hear the wail of sirens the instant he came in sight of the base. But no alarm came. No soldiers patrolled the high, wire-topped walls; no robed figures ran to meet his assault. Even the door to the menagerie hung open, unguarded.
The base looked deserted.
Suspecting some kind of trick, he dove fast as a missile, a wave of fire billowing before him. Barracks and labs burst into flame…but no one came running out.
He swooped lower, more slowly, still alert for any attack. His eagle-sharp eyesight scanned the base, and his unease grew.
Every last vehicle was gone, leaving behind only deep ruts in the dirt road. Even that could have been a decoy, to tempt him into coming down to investigate further…but there was no fooling his psychic abilities. If there had been people present in the base—no matter how well concealed—he would have sensed the fires of their souls.
They were gone. They were all gone.
Abandoning caution, he landed outside Corbin’s private residence, a stately manor house set within formal gardens. The front door hung ajar. It creaked in the wind caused by his fiery aura, swinging further open.
He shifted back into human form, recklessly. Even that didn’t prompt an attack.
He’d never been into the mansion before. The cells, the labs, the training grounds—those were the parts of the complex that he knew. Not this, Corbin’s private domain.
His feet left blackened footprints on the marble floor as he stalked through the deserted rooms. The library still had books scattered across the shelves, but many volumes were missing. Desk drawers were pulled out, clearly having been emptied of any important contents.
Corbin had departed in a hurry. But not in a panic.
The High Magus had been able to sense him coming. He’d had time to execute an evacuation plan. Blaze has a sick certainty that there wouldn’t be a single clue left anywhere in the complex that might hint where the warlock had gone.