Page 94 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

They righted fallen chairs and picked up everything that had been knocked off the table. They gathered up the leftover snacks, packed their bags, and then headed out, all of them with some sort of indication that they were glad Max was alright, and they hoped Rory fully recovered soon.

Rory chirped at all of them, which didn’t exactly give them solid information, but it seemed like he at least recognized his own name, which was good. Max had no idea if he was dealing with the equivalent of baby Rory, and it didn’t seem reasonable to try to quiz a bird. Not tonight, at least.

Rory had told him there’d been a fire before he’d been a cardinal for ten years, hadn’t he? Max wondered now if that was a normal part of life for him, if things always ended in a fire and this… rebirth? (He felt ridiculous just having the thought, but he didn’t know what else to call it.) He worried a little that it meant he was going to be stuck with a bird for the next decade, but if that was the case, then Max would get him the best bird accessories in existence and just wait until he took his human form again.

It was very quiet once everyone left. David had offered to cast better protection spells on the shop, and Max had explained how he had better spells, but he didn’t use them while there were normal people in the shop. He typically put them up only once the D&D crew was gone. Maybe it was time to look at some spells that were a little more nuanced.

Max made a mental note that he really would need to figure out which boxes the man had been trying to obtain and take a look at what they contained. This thief was clearly the middle man, and Max didn’t want that rude man—assuming he was remembering the right person—to try again. It had been a close-enough thing today. If not for Rory, it was likely that Max would be dead right now. And while he was glad none of the others had come upstairs instead of him, he very much liked not being dead.

Not being dead meant he could spend a lot more time with Rory, and he liked that the most.

Max made sure all the spells were in full effect now that everyone else was gone, then he headed carefully upstairs, taking each step slowly and deliberately. Apparently Nōwē still thought he was in a bad way, because she didn’t try to trip him even once.

He wondered if they were ever going to have a D&D session again. Was this the sort of thing that ended a group permanently?

He wasn’t so sure that Tom was coming back, nor did he know how everyone felt about David. Max supposed that they could theoretically boot David out, but he’d been one of the founding members, and he was a big part of why they were there.

But how would they feel if Tom left? Ugh. Max didn’t like any of this.

Once he reached the landing outside his apartment, he pressed his hand against the door and used his wards to let him in, like he had when he’d changed into the Dread Pirate Roberts costume. While Rory’s magical fire hadn’t harmed him, it had taken out everything Max had been wearing or had on his person. So he was short keys, phone, and clothes.

He was very grateful he’d set up his wards for just this sort of emergency. He usually used his keys to ensure he had them on him just in case of normal people, but a moment like this reinforced the reason to have back-up plans.

He also couldn’t use his spare keys, because Rory had had those, and he suspected they’d burned like Max’s things had.

Although Rory was a shifter, so there was a chance they’d shifted with him instead. Only… Rory hadn’t really shifted. He’d burned to ash and been reborn. Somehow, Max didn’t think keys came with that. But he wouldn’t know that for sure until he could talk to Rory again—at which point it would no doubt become obvious if Rory was naked and possession-less.

Inside the apartment, Max sagged against the door as the whole day caught up with him. He had definitely not expected anything like the excitement and danger of the night—or rather, he’d expected all of it to be fictional.

He might like plenty of action and adventure in the books he read or the D&D campaigns he played, but he really didn’t need any of it in his actual life.

If he closed his eyes, he could remember what had happened, but it felt a little bit like it had happened to someone else, like Rory’s mojo hadn’t just healed his physical wounds. He remembered confusion and a pressure in his chest. He knew there’d been a red-hot wave of agony that nothing could have prepared him for… but it was gone to the dim recesses of his mind. He didn’t really remember falling, though he must have. He’d been dazed, in so much pain, trying to figure out what was going on, and hoping that none of the others would be hurt. That Rory wouldn’t be hurt.

And then Rory had been there, looking so concerned, golden eyes huge, and Max had tried to smile for him, and then…

Nothing, really, until Max had woken up feeling totally fine—certainly pain-free, naked as a jay bird, and without Rory. His second hand came up to cradle the little fluff ball who was nestled in against his neck and shoulder like it was the only place to be.

This was actually pretty normal for them… except for the part where Rory wasn’t a cardinal and had formed out of ash.

He scooped the bird into his hands and brought him up to his lips so he could press a soft kiss to all that fluff.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Max told him, voice rough. “Thank you for saving me.”

Rory chirped at him.

Max really needed Rory to get his vocal cords back.

Chapter Eighteen

Rory

Rory had never been reborn when he’d also found his mate. If he’d stopped to consider it, he wasn’t sure that he would have expected anything to be different, not really. Ideally, his mate would actually be bonded to him, and he’d have told them everything first rather than accidentally demonstrating it in the most dramatic fashion possible. It was clearly too late for that.

But from the moment Rory had been reborn into his hatchling form, he’d known that his mate was there. Rory wasn’t a baby, but he wasn’t exactly his adult self, either. Everything that made him him was reforming, and it took a little while for that to happen, even with magic.

He was more mentally aware than either a baby bird or a baby human, but he wasn’t fully grown yet. It was often quite disorienting, and there was a reason Rory stayed in bird form for a while.

But this time, when Rory had become once more, he’d realized in almost the same moment that his mate was right there. Rory hadn’t remembered much of anything in those first few moments, but mate and safety were certainties. Cuddling up against his witch had been everything he’d ever wanted, and he’d spared a moment to wish every rebirth could be like this.