eyes flicking to something over Darcy’s head. Darcy turned and found Rory and Wystan staring fixedly at Seren. They both twitched, as though she’d caught them making rude gestures behind her back.
“Husband,” Seren said, after a beat. She bent in a shallow bow, her fluid grace making the archaic gesture seem natural. “It is my honor to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Darcy hesitated, unable to contain her curiosity. “You’re both shifters too, right? What do you turn into?”
Joe grinned down at her. And then, without warning, there was a lot more Joe grinning down at her.
Darcy made a strangled noise, leaping away—and found herself behind a wall of black fur. Fenrir growled up at the towering dragon, eyes burning angry red. Even in hellhound form, he was only a fraction of the dragon’s size—yet it shrank back, horned head lowering submissively. If an enormous, fanged, reptilian face could be said to have an expression, the dragon’s was definitely contrite.
“Joe.” Seren slapped the dragon’s scaled foreleg. “You know you shouldn’t do that without warning.”
“No, that’s okay.” Darcy stared up at the dragon, her initial shock giving way to awe. “I did ask. Wow. Never thought I’d meet an actual dragon.”
The blue-green ruff around the creature’s neck lifted a little, shimmering with iridescent colors. It turned its neck, like a bird preening itself. Then the vast shape shimmered, blurring back into human form.
“Sea dragon, actually,” Joe said cheerfully. He winked at her. “And if you think I’m awesome, you should see Seren. She’s a shark. Go on, Seren. Show her.”
“Perhaps later,” Seren said, while Darcy was still puzzling over how that could possibly work. “We cannot monopolize all Darcy’s attention, Joe. The others are eager to greet her as well.”
Joe, who’d been starting to pout, perked up again. “Oh, right! Come and meet everyone, Darcy!”
He seized her wrist, turquoise eyes alight with enthusiasm. Darcy, bemused, let herself be towed along behind him as he bounced back toward the compound.
The hotshot base wasn’t quite as she’d imagined. Not that she’d had much to go on, but she’d vaguely pictured something gray and military, all concrete and chain-link fences.
This place, however, looked more like a summer camp. Little log cabins dotted a broad clearing, arranged so that each had some privacy from its neighbors. Rough-cut tree trunks circled a sizeable firepit, with ranks of picnic tables nearby. Everything was still and peaceful, blanketed in soft white snowdrifts.
Two bigger buildings stood at the edge of the car park. Joe dragged her toward the larger of them, his huge boots breaking a path for her through the thick snow.
“She’s here!” he yelled, shouldering the door open and barging in. “She’s here at last!”
“Yes,” said a handsome red-haired man from a bench. He had a toddler on his knee, and a somewhat pained expression. “We know.”
“I think people in the next state know by now.” A curvy black woman threw an exasperated glance at Joe as she came forward, offering Darcy her hand. “Hi. I’m Blaise. Sorry for Joe’s welcome.”
“You should be sorry,” Joe informed Blaise. He turned to Darcy, a look of exaggerated woe flashing across his mobile face. “I wanted to do this properly, but the rest of the crew vetoed the confetti. Spoilsports.”
“Believe me, I feel thoroughly welcomed,” Darcy said, shaking Blaise’s hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted with such enthusiasm. Though I’m still not quite sure why you’re all so eager to meet me. I don’t turn into a magical creature, after all.”
Blaise grinned. She had exquisite features, emphasized by her close-cropped hairstyle. There was, however, nothing delicate about the strength in her grip. “That makes you a novelty around here.”
“Let me finish the introductions,” Rory said, entering the room with the Wystan and Edith on his heels. He gestured at a blonde woman, and then the couple with the baby. “This is Candice, and over there are Callum and Diana. The little one is Beth.”
Darcy shook hands with them all—even Beth, who giggled and squeezed her finger with a chubby, slightly sticky hand. “Are you all firefighters?”
“God no,” said the blonde woman that Rory had introduced as Candice. She gestured at the old burn scars on her face. “One close encounter with fire was quite enough for me. I run a horse ranch just down the road from here. Wystan’s my husband.”
“Her very fortunate husband.” Wystan put an arm around his wife’s waist, gazing at her with quiet pride. His hand slipped down to cradle her small, round baby bump. “Exceedingly fortunate.”
“And