I closed my eyes as the earth abandoned my feet, and several seconds later, the other ferry-bird grabbed my ankles.
Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook…
I didn’t exhale in relief until the weather-worn wooden porch boards came into sight beneath me. One bird dropped my ankles, and my shoulders were wrenched mercilessly when my body swung free beneath me. Then the other bird let me go, and I crashed to my knees on the porch, eye to eye with a sizable knothole, through which I could see the ground, two hundred feet below.
Heart racing, I lurched to my feet and scrambled away from the edge, pressing my back against the side of the building, irrationally afraid of being blown off the porch by the gust of wind beneath the approaching thunderbirds’ wings.
A minute later, Jace landed where I’d fallen, and I helped him up. “You okay?”
“Hell, no.” He actually wobbled on his feet and clung to me, his face whiter than a sun-bleached Texas sidewalk. “There’s a reason cats don’t have wings.”
“Yeah, but at least we always land on our feet.”
“Then why did I land on my ass?”
I didn’t have an answer for that one, so I just pulled him against the wall while we waited for Marc.
Marc’s arrival was no better, and clearly no less traumatic. “Never. Again,” were his only words, as we followed Kai into the nest. I could not have agreed more.
Inside, my gaze was drawn upward, though I’d seen it all before. Twice. It was still impressive, in a how-many-ways-are-there-to-die kind of way. Most of the first floor was taken up by a large, open living space, scattered with worn but comfy-looking chairs and couches, all piled high with old, faded pillows, like little mininests. Along three sides of the room were several closed doors leading to other rooms, and directly across from the entrance stood the staircase.
There was no ceiling. The room was open all the way to the roof, six stories up, and along the way, platforms and long, thick beams jutted from the walls, each occupied with one or more birds in various stages of mid-Shift. And they all stared down at us.
The second and third floors were arranged like hotel rooms ringing a large, open lobby. Most of the doors were closed, and in the far corner I could see the room where Kaci and I had woken up on our previous trip.
“Kai!” We all whirled at the sharp, disharmonic screech, and I flinched as Kai soared over our heads in response to the summons. He landed in front of a nude elderly female thunderbird with a human face and long white hair.
“I’ve granted them an audience, to absolve myself of debt and uphold the honor of my word.”
The old bird turned from Kai to face us. “Come forward and state your business, then be gone. We want no contact with your species beyond removing ourselves from your debt.”
“Fair enough.” I wasn’t exactly tickled to be there, either. “Is anyone among you willing go on a reconnaissance mission for us?”
“Will this mission absolve us of our debt to you?” a softer but equally creepy dual-tone voice asked, and I turned to find a dark-haired mostly human man waiting for my answer.
“Not alone, no. This mission is simple and safe—hardly worth Wren’s life.” At a shuffling sound behind me, I turned to see the toddler safe in her mother’s arms. I smiled at them both, then continued. “I have something else in mind to erase that debt. This recon is…separate.” I hesitated, reluctant to say the next part, but I was out of options. “A favor, of sorts. Which I will gladly repay.”
“No. You are of no use to us,” the old crone half shrieked. “Now we are done. You will go.” With that, she turned her back and spread her wings, preparing to take to the air. We had been dismissed.
Twenty-nine
“Wait!” I shouted, and the crone lowered her wings, then pivoted slowly to face me again, cocking her head in that weird avian manner. Like she was curious, but not in a good way. Curious like a child examining a dying bug. “Don’t you want to see justice done?” I demanded, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at me now, and that the only two sets of eyes that didn’t look hostile were both feline. “If you do this, Calvin Malone will pay for what he did to you!”
The old woman stepped closer, and vague shuffling movements began all around us. Talons scraped the floor with each step. Feathers made a soft, eerie rustling sound. Several beaks snapped together in menacing, hollow clacks. The birds were closing in. Gathering to watch the show, with us at the center of their circle. We were prey, surrounded by several dozen full-grown thunderbirds.
And in that moment, Kai’s promise of a safe return trip no longer seemed so ironclad. Would he still honor our deal if they told us to leave, and we refused?
“We’ve had justice for Finn.” The male bird crossed still-human arms over his bare chest. “You brought us his killer, and we feasted on every edible part of his body.” At his words, the inarticulate din around us grew stronger, like the birds were all fidgeting in anticipation, and my pulse raced uncontrollably. “We have no further business with you until you claim the debt we still owe. And we have no further business with Calvin Malone at all.”
“But he lied to you. He used you! He nearly robbed Finn of justice and he certainly made fools of you all!” I couldn’t understand their ambivalence. How could they not be burning to see Malone pay?
The male bird drew closer, and as I watched, the slightest ripple crawled over the skin on his crossed forearms, as if feathers wanted to sprout there, but he was holding them back. Along with his temper? Did that work the same way the partial Shift did for us? The angrier a bird got, the more likely to burst into feathers and claws?
Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook…
I didn’t exhale in relief until the weather-worn wooden porch boards came into sight beneath me. One bird dropped my ankles, and my shoulders were wrenched mercilessly when my body swung free beneath me. Then the other bird let me go, and I crashed to my knees on the porch, eye to eye with a sizable knothole, through which I could see the ground, two hundred feet below.
Heart racing, I lurched to my feet and scrambled away from the edge, pressing my back against the side of the building, irrationally afraid of being blown off the porch by the gust of wind beneath the approaching thunderbirds’ wings.
A minute later, Jace landed where I’d fallen, and I helped him up. “You okay?”
“Hell, no.” He actually wobbled on his feet and clung to me, his face whiter than a sun-bleached Texas sidewalk. “There’s a reason cats don’t have wings.”
“Yeah, but at least we always land on our feet.”
“Then why did I land on my ass?”
I didn’t have an answer for that one, so I just pulled him against the wall while we waited for Marc.
Marc’s arrival was no better, and clearly no less traumatic. “Never. Again,” were his only words, as we followed Kai into the nest. I could not have agreed more.
Inside, my gaze was drawn upward, though I’d seen it all before. Twice. It was still impressive, in a how-many-ways-are-there-to-die kind of way. Most of the first floor was taken up by a large, open living space, scattered with worn but comfy-looking chairs and couches, all piled high with old, faded pillows, like little mininests. Along three sides of the room were several closed doors leading to other rooms, and directly across from the entrance stood the staircase.
There was no ceiling. The room was open all the way to the roof, six stories up, and along the way, platforms and long, thick beams jutted from the walls, each occupied with one or more birds in various stages of mid-Shift. And they all stared down at us.
The second and third floors were arranged like hotel rooms ringing a large, open lobby. Most of the doors were closed, and in the far corner I could see the room where Kaci and I had woken up on our previous trip.
“Kai!” We all whirled at the sharp, disharmonic screech, and I flinched as Kai soared over our heads in response to the summons. He landed in front of a nude elderly female thunderbird with a human face and long white hair.
“I’ve granted them an audience, to absolve myself of debt and uphold the honor of my word.”
The old bird turned from Kai to face us. “Come forward and state your business, then be gone. We want no contact with your species beyond removing ourselves from your debt.”
“Fair enough.” I wasn’t exactly tickled to be there, either. “Is anyone among you willing go on a reconnaissance mission for us?”
“Will this mission absolve us of our debt to you?” a softer but equally creepy dual-tone voice asked, and I turned to find a dark-haired mostly human man waiting for my answer.
“Not alone, no. This mission is simple and safe—hardly worth Wren’s life.” At a shuffling sound behind me, I turned to see the toddler safe in her mother’s arms. I smiled at them both, then continued. “I have something else in mind to erase that debt. This recon is…separate.” I hesitated, reluctant to say the next part, but I was out of options. “A favor, of sorts. Which I will gladly repay.”
“No. You are of no use to us,” the old crone half shrieked. “Now we are done. You will go.” With that, she turned her back and spread her wings, preparing to take to the air. We had been dismissed.
Twenty-nine
“Wait!” I shouted, and the crone lowered her wings, then pivoted slowly to face me again, cocking her head in that weird avian manner. Like she was curious, but not in a good way. Curious like a child examining a dying bug. “Don’t you want to see justice done?” I demanded, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at me now, and that the only two sets of eyes that didn’t look hostile were both feline. “If you do this, Calvin Malone will pay for what he did to you!”
The old woman stepped closer, and vague shuffling movements began all around us. Talons scraped the floor with each step. Feathers made a soft, eerie rustling sound. Several beaks snapped together in menacing, hollow clacks. The birds were closing in. Gathering to watch the show, with us at the center of their circle. We were prey, surrounded by several dozen full-grown thunderbirds.
And in that moment, Kai’s promise of a safe return trip no longer seemed so ironclad. Would he still honor our deal if they told us to leave, and we refused?
“We’ve had justice for Finn.” The male bird crossed still-human arms over his bare chest. “You brought us his killer, and we feasted on every edible part of his body.” At his words, the inarticulate din around us grew stronger, like the birds were all fidgeting in anticipation, and my pulse raced uncontrollably. “We have no further business with you until you claim the debt we still owe. And we have no further business with Calvin Malone at all.”
“But he lied to you. He used you! He nearly robbed Finn of justice and he certainly made fools of you all!” I couldn’t understand their ambivalence. How could they not be burning to see Malone pay?
The male bird drew closer, and as I watched, the slightest ripple crawled over the skin on his crossed forearms, as if feathers wanted to sprout there, but he was holding them back. Along with his temper? Did that work the same way the partial Shift did for us? The angrier a bird got, the more likely to burst into feathers and claws?
