Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,179

call. Light flared between us, the white and black bands weaving together in a soft, sparkling glow as it washed over Gaspard’s prone form. A mental sigh of utter relief rang through our minds as his pain scattered, banished by the power we called. I met Ryder’s shocked gaze. “Help me help him,” I pleaded quietly. Ryder stared into my eyes, and I pushed along our mental link as Gaspard’s relief flowed through us. “Help him sleep,” I whispered around the glass in my throat. Each of my mates leaned forward and placed a hand on Gaspard, uniting us all one final time. Our magic surged over him, not like the painful death they had attempted to force on him, but rather like a peaceful, gentle wave with his family surrounding him. Damien sent favorite memories of the past to his grandfather—sweet, silent movies of them playing catch when Damien was little, of Gaspard swinging him up on his shoulders as he taught him what it was like to fly, of Gaspard clasping Damien on the back of the neck as they walked through the woods when he was a teenager, obviously imparting one of those important pieces of wisdom he was known for. Memory after memory soothingly cascaded into his mind as Gaspard drew a last, ragged breath, his blue eyes closing and a smile turning up his lips.

Don’t forget me, my beautiful grandchildren. I love you all. Strength, pride, and courage washed through us as his soul left his body, brushing past us in his final farewell.

A sharp, keening cry echoed over the now silent training yard as Damien’s Gargoyle released his despair, his wings exploding through his shirt. Pain racked us all as we leaned into him, our bodies shaking Grandpa’s with our convulsive and unchecked tears. I wasn’t sure which of us spoke, the words being pulled directly from our souls and echoing to our bones.

“Goodbye, Grandpa.”

Forty-Four

Theo

An aura of mourning and fear hung heavily in the air as I strode through the halls of the lodge toward my office. Damien and Nix were nearly inconsolable, wrapped around each other in their grief. My Kraken let out his own keening cry, wishing he could shift and mourn Gaspard in the way of our kind, but this grief was not solely mine.

I needed action, purpose, and logic, or I would be as lost as my mate and my brothers. Gaspard’s death had highlighted the fact that even here, our safety could not be guaranteed. While I had always known it, logically at least, the sense of security I’d held here made me careless. We were in a war. Information was as much of a currency as the money in my wallet, especially sensitive information. My office held information that the Council had been after for years—potentially generations, if my bets were well placed.

The last thing we needed was for the Council to get their hands on the secrets of Nix’s powers. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t broken everything down fully. For all I knew, my conclusions would be enough of a launching point for them to begin the island trials all over again. That didn’t even begin to touch my theories regarding the hybrid children, amongst other things that were all sketched out in my notes.

All of my work could be recreated in the future, should I—and our family—survive the war that was coming. If we were overcome, however, I would be pointing a neon arrow directly where the Council wanted it, but it was still going to hurt to destroy it all... I brushed aside that errant thought, adjusting my glasses with a sigh.

I slid the key into the lock on my door, my mind still racing. After I had destroyed this information, I’d have to head down and work on Ryder’s notes. His were never neatly organized, but I should be able to… The thought trailed off as I turned the key. There was no resistance—the lock wasn’t secured.

My Kraken hissed in my head, pushing forward to lend me strength as I eased the door open. I didn’t want to call out to Damien, not with how he was feeling, unless I had absolutely no choice. I wasn’t dumb enough to allow myself to have my head kicked in. More aware now, I could hear a rustling coming from the back of my office, as if a multitude of papers were being shuffled. A low curse had my Kraken roaring, desperate to punish whoever had