Page 8 of Dream Weaver
I jutted my chin, then forced a curt nod. That was all Walt was getting out of me.
“Perfect,” he announced. “See you tomorrow, Cooper. Nine a.m. sharp.”
“See you tomorrow,” Rich chirped.
Cooper growled. So quietly, I doubted Rich or Walt heard.
But I did. I whipped around in time to see the stubble on his chin thicken. His eyes glowed too, no longer warm brown but brick red.
Sensing my gaze, he met my eyes, and I stared.
Shifter?
His nostrils flared, testing the air.
Shifter. Definitely.
He didn’t come out and growl,What are you?but the message was clear.
If I had a simple, one-word answer for that, I might have replied. But I didn’t, being one of those rare cases where two halves didn’t equal a whole.
I took a deep breath then turned away, shaking my head in dismay.
I had a few short weeks to handcraft twenty axes.Luckyaxes that would protect hardworking people’s lives. With a big, burly shifter — species unknown — huffing over my shoulder the whole time.
I could have screamed.
Instead, I flipped down my welder’s mask and hit the trigger of my plasma torch, releasing a torrent of fire.
Chapter Three
COOPER
The next morning, I parked in a back lot, killed the engine…and stared at the dashboard. Back at the firehouse, everyone was prepping for the season. Testing out equipment. Running drills. Bonding.
I was at Heavy Metal Sedona on a wild goose-chase.
“Have a good day, son. And remember, what you’re doing is important too.” Those were the inspiring words Rich had sent me off with.
He’d been dead serious too. So were Alice and the other veterans of the Yavapai fire squad. I hadn’t encountered as many delusional souls since I’d visited Las Vegas. They actually believed in the whole lucky ax thing.
So did the local police, who were investigating their hearts out, though they had no leads.
The rookies and other newbies took it in with a mixture of amusement and dismay.
“You think they’re serious or just pulling our legs?” Mark had whispered.
“It pains me to say this, but I think they’re serious.” Chuck sighed.
I scuffed the floor. Had I really turned down job offers from three top-notch crews to join this hocus-pocus gang?
“Maybe the lucky ax has…what’s it called?” Mark mused. “A placebo effect.”
“As long as they don’t make us do yoga…” Chuck muttered.
“Or tune in to a vortex,” Mark added.
Or assist a fiery blacksmith who doesn’t want help,I nearly chimed in. A blacksmith who’d spotted the animal in me at one glance.
