“For the last time, he's not my boyfriend!” Era's knuckles turned white as she gripped her walking stick tightly.
“Of course not,” Mason replied, “he's just a boy you spend half the day with. Maybe if we put on the play, he could be the Romeo to your Juliet. I'm sure the two of you would have excellent chemistry.”
Even as she felt her face heating from his teasing, Era groaned in frustration. “I don't like Devlin that way, okay?”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much!”
As Mason continued to laugh at her discomfort, the door to the library flew open. At first, he didn't notice. But Era's head immediately snapped toward the silhouette in the doorway, her heart pounding. Why did the library suddenly smell like smoke?
“Can I help you?” she asked, nearly stammering.
The figure gave no reply.
* * *
Devlin
As he wheeled toward the gray roofs of the old zoo, Devlin cried out in frustration. Ribbons of smoke twined upward from the valley, too thick and dark to be that of the fireplace he'd seen in the library.
He was too late.
Before despair could get the better of him, he forced himself to think. He couldn't stop his father, but it didn't mean there weren't survivors to help. Pinning his wings back, Devlin dove through the fierce winter winds, the cold no worse than that of the air cushioned between his feathers. He was an ice phoenix. He did not yield to winter.
Just as he would not yield to his father any longer.
As he landed, he saw it: the orange and yellow flames licking the top of the library. All those old books were no better than tinder now. He cursed to himself as he halted before the door. Ciril had blocked it with a heap of heavy scrap metal. Devlin would need hands for this task.
As he summoned his human form back to the fore, tightness formed in his throat. The only reason to block this door was if someone was inside.
The moment his wings became fingers again, Devlin heaved at the metal, yanking it back just far enough to reach the next piece, not caring when a jagged edge sliced into his skin. Blood trailed into the packed snow as he worked, the smoke turning black as night as it billowed higher.
In the distance, he heard human voices shouting. Was there a fire in one of the other buildings? Devlin tried to shut out their yells. He couldn't afford to split his attention.
When a path to the door appeared at last, Devlin reached out before snapping his hand back with a hiss. The metal handle had burned his palm. Wrapping both the injured hand and door handle in ice, he pulled again, his fingers slipping as ice became water, then singing with pain as they felt the pervasive touch of heat. Still, Devlin yanked on the door. It didn't budge.
Ciril had soldered it shut.
Closing his eyes, Devlin searched his fragmented memories for the right spell. Only now, as he grasped for answers, did Devlin realize how little Ciril had taught him. All Devlin knew was how to influence weather, to gather massive storms that would devastate the surviving humans.
Summoning all his power, he wreathed the door in ice, pouring more energy into it as though orchestrating a cold front, until even the fire within was no match. His head was beginning to spin.
When he could not make the door any colder, Devlin kicked with all his might.
The door shattered as fire exploded into the open air.
Devlin tumbled backward as smoke and flames shot out. He coughed, rolling forward onto his hands and knees. As the smoke poured into the frosty air, he saw them: two prostrate forms, collapsed just on the other side of the door. They'd tried to get out before the smoke overwhelmed them.
As Devlin crawled forward, his jacket caught on the shards of scrap metal. He had to reach them. But the heat was too intense for this human-like form of his.
Faster than he'd ever shifted before, he returned to his phoenix form. Summoning a barrier of ice crystals and snow around him, Devlin dove forward into the burning building, his wings compressed to keep his trajectory as low as possible.
He could barely see anything now. He aimed his claws for the shadows below him, seizing clothing. It wasn't enough to gain purchase. Devlin tried again, this time grabbing hold of cloth and flesh together. He beat his wings, aware of the rebound of the flames that would chase him. What if he could not save them both?
He dropped the first body just beyond the door, then dove back in.
The second shadow was lighter. His heart plummeted. What if it's Era?
Devlin flew like a diving falcon, his wings pressed tight as he darted through the door a final time. Only when he set this lighter human down, a little further from the burning library this time, did he dare to look.
Era, the girl who'd climbed the ridge in a blizzard to light the supply team's way home, lay motionless in the snow. As he landed beside her, Devlin used his beak to roll her onto her back. He turned away from her only long enough to do the same for the librarian, dragging Mason further from the flames and smoke still billowing through the open door.
The librarian's jacket bulged strangely. Devlin had the sneaking suspicion Mason had stuffed his clothing full of books, as if he would be able to save them. He couldn't even save himself.
As his lungs took in the clean, cold air, a shudder worked through Mason's chest, followed by a wracking cough. The librarian's eyes flew open as he coughed more violently, gasping for breath. Hope seizing him, Devlin turned toward Era, expecting her to do the same.
A scream pierced the cold air.
“Another one! There's another one!”
That busybody Mar stood up the slope, one hand tight on the guide ropes and the other pointing accusingly at him. Of course she would be here, even now. With a cry, the ice phoenix beat his wings, his vision blurring as the humans approached.
They held bricks and stones in their hands, raised as if to lob them. One of them was the chef who had given him extra food every morning since his return from the supply run.
Humans. His father was right—they were the wickedest creatures the Earth had ever produced. Why couldn't they see he'd helped Era and Mason? Did they think two unconscious mortals had made their way out of a burning building by themselves?
His vision continuing to haze, Devlin took to the sky. He tried to push the people of the Habitats from his mind and focus on the task at hand: stopping Ciril.
As he flew over the remnants of the zoo, he wound around the pluming smoke pouring from the gathering house. The surviving humans assembled by the man-made lake, dark specks in a snowy landscape.