Chapter 11
T he groundskeeper had kidnapped Declan.
That was all Tara could think, watching him being carried away. Their plan was to convince Colette Saunier to be a better human being, and instead, they'd gotten Declan kidnapped .
The other peacocks were being rounded up, too, with remarkable efficiency. It looked like the five or six men doing the job had a lot of practice at it. And given the cheerfully yelling children and their obvious desire to chase the big birds all over the place, it was obviously a good idea, overall. But the rest of them weren't being kidnapped ! They were actual birds! They were being secured for their safety! All Declan needed for his own safety was a few seconds out of everybody's line of sight so he could shift! And instead, this!
This had already been far more adventure than Tara had planned on for her Irish vacation, and now she had to rescue a kidnapped peacock. Her life had become unrecognizable in just a few days.
It was wonderful.
One of the peahens ran by her, straight into a keeper's net, and as it kicked and shrieked, Tara saw the answer to all her problems: the castle birds were banded on their left ankles. She hadn't noticed it before, but that would clear everything up. Declan didn't have a band, so obviously he didn't belong to the castle peacocks. Relieved, Tara followed the groundskeepers down to the peacock enclosure, which turned out to be a quite nice spot near the river. It was gated and fenced off, with a net over its considerable square footage, and there were a number of coops that would suit chickens just perfectly, if they were peacock-sized.
The last of the birds was being closed inside as Tara caught up to them, and she waved the final groundskeeper down. He was a craggy man in his fifties who looked like he'd spent a lot of time working outside in his life, and his expression as she approached bordered on hostile. "This is private property, miss."
"I know," Tara said apologetically. "I did see the signs. But—one of those peacocks you rounded up is, uh, mine." She lifted her camera. "I was taking pictures of him? He's right there." She pointed to Declan, who was more or less smooshed up against the wire fence like a kid staring into a candy store's window. Blue feathers poked through the wire, and he kept switching his head from side to side, staring at her with desperate hope. "No ankle band, see? He's not one of yours."
The groundskeeper, with the most suspicious expression Tara had ever seen on a human face, went to examine Declan's ankle, then straightened with an incredibly deep scowl. "And how did ye get this craytchur inside the grounds to take pictures, I ask ye? Sure an' nobody saw ye brangin' a paycook in through the gaytes this marnin', did they? " Every word became more thicker with accusation, until Tara was left fighting her way through the accent to understand the words.
"I…released him over the estate wall last night?" She didn't even know if the estate had walls, but the groundskeeper's suspicious glare relented just the tiniest fraction. Apparently that was plausible.
"And where's your paypurs?" the man demanded.
"My…papers? I'm visiting a friend? I don't need a visitor's visa from the United States?" Panic rose in Tara. She'd been allowed into the country. She was almost certain she didn't need a visa to visit Ireland, but she couldn't imagine what other papers she might need, either.
"For the paycook," the groundskeeper growled.
Tara nearly collapsed in relief. "Oh. Oh, right, because they're not meant to be kept as pets. The papers are back at my friend's place? I mean, it's his pet, obviously. But…" She felt a blush rising. "But, well, I mean, we didn't think we'd be noticed, you know? We thought we'd sneak the peacock in last night and I'd do my photography this morning, and then we'd lure it out just at closing with its favorite food."
"Which is what?" The groundskeeper pounced, verbally. Tara felt extremely like she'd been caught in a lie, which of course she had, and frantically tried to think of what the hell peacocks might eat.
"…bananas?"
"And where's your bananas?"
"My friend has them!"
"And where's your friend?"
Tara obviously couldn't say in the pen, and had no idea what else to say. "I don't know. Somewhere on the grounds, I guess?"
The groundskeeper showed his teeth in something resembling a smile. "Give him a ring, why don't you?"
"I—oh—I—we—I mean, I really like him, but I don't, I don't think our relationship has progressed that far?" Tara's ears were burning hot and she was actually afraid to look toward Declan even if he was a peacock.
To her utter surprise, the groundskeeper burst out laughing, although he looked as though he didn't want to. "A call, love. With your mobile. Not a bloody wedding ring."
"Oh. Oh! " Fresh panic seized her. She did have Declan's phone number, but Declan was, in fact, right there . And now, in what seemed like a great oversight, Tara realized she hadn't thought to ask what happened to his clothes or his phone or anything he had on him when he turned into a peacock. If she called him and the bird's butt started ringing or something, they would have a whole new set of problems to deal with.
A bolt of inspiration struck and Tara gave the groundskeeper the most apologetic smile she could manage, which was pretty sincere, just then. "Oh, I can't. I would, but," she waved her hands toward the sky, trying to indicate the great nebulous network of cellular access. "My service provider turns out to not work, like, at all in Ireland. I thought it would, but it just really doesn't, and I'm only here for two weeks so I thought I'd basically pretend I lived in the Before Times and try to get along without one for a while."
The groundskeeper, his grumpiness apparently having been broken by the laugh, gave a deep sigh. "Well, you'll have to provide the papers before I can let you take him out of here, love. I can see he hasn't a tag," he agreed, "but that doesn't mean he's yours legally."
"It doesn't mean he's yours legally either," Tara said, annoyed, but arguing wasn't going to get her anywhere, especially as she was fairly certain there were no papers to provide and if the authorities got involved things would get complicated in terrible ways. "All right, we'll go back into Cork and get them. Please take care of him while we're gone."
"Av carse, love."
Tara walked away, aware of the groundskeeper's eyes on her, and thought: this is a disaster. Even if these fictional papers existed, she didn't know where Declan lived. She didn't know how to get ahold of any of his friends, who might be able to help her. It wasn't like the names Seamus and Brian were going to narrow things down very much in the country of Ireland, or even just the city of Cork. There was absolutely nowhere she could turn, and Declan couldn't very well shift into human and let himself out of the peacock enclosure. Not without risking everything. She needed someone who already knew the truth about shifters, and who was in a sufficiently high position of authority that they could get her and Declan both out of this mess.
" Oh ." She barely whispered the word as an idea came together around the edges of her mind, so fragile she didn't dare think about it directly for fear of scaring it away. Instead she put on a burst of speed, moving well away from the suspicious groundskeeper and the peacock enclosure. The path she was on bent down toward the river, which was perfect. Its burbling might help hide her conversations from prying ears. Still without quite letting herself think about it, she looked up the name of the director for the Shamrock Safari Wildlife Park, and then, hands shaking, put in a call to the park's main line.
"Yes, hello? Hi, I'm looking for Director Maureen Kelly? My name is Tara Lynch, and—no," she said to the brisk-voiced Irish woman who'd answered. "I don't have any connection to the director. But this is very important. It's about…" Tara fumbled for a phrase that might get the urgency across without spilling any secrets. "It's about a peacock I saw at the wildlife park this week. Could you tell her…"
Oh, this was a risk. Tara's stomach swam with nerves. "Could you tell her that it shifted my view on a few things, and that it's very, very important I speak to her?"
"The director is a very busy woman," the woman on the phone said impatiently, but sighed. "Please hold. I'll see if she has a moment to speak with you."
"Thank you! Thank you so much, I—" Hold music came on and Tara squirmed with agitation, trying desperately to think what she would do if this didn't work, and what she should say to make sure it did, if it could. After a moment the brisk woman came back on, told her she was being transferred, and sent her through to a new line ringing.
It picked up on the second ring. "This is Director Moira Kelly. How can I help you, Ms. Lynch?"
"Director Kelly. Thank you." Tara thought she was going to pass out from worry. "Director, I, I, I—" It turned out trying to confess to a stranger that she'd met a man who could turn into a peacock was extremely difficult. If Kelly didn't know about shifters, Tara knew she would be exposing a huge secret, if the director even believed her at all.
"I assume," Director Kelly said into Tara's stutters, "that this newly shifted viewpoint of yours has something to do with the unusual bond between humans and animals at the Shamrock Safari park. If your concern is that I may not share your perception of that extraordinary connection, please let me assure you that my own perspective on that topic was shifted a long, long time ago."
"Oh thank God. " It was all in code words, but Tara was ninety-five percent certain Director Kelly was telling her she did know about shifters. "Okay, thank God, because I need your help. Or the friend who shifted my perception needs your help. I—Director Kelly, is it safe for me to be direct about this? Because I don't know how to tell you what's wrong otherwise."
Kelly gave an enormous sigh. "Do you have a secure vone app on your phone?"
"Vone…?"
"Video phone," Kelly said patiently. "Do you have an encrypted, non-billionaire-owned vone app?"
"I—oh. Yes."
"Call me on that," Kelly said, and hung up.
Tara stared at her phone a few seconds, then sighed and called the main number again. "Hi. This is Tara Lynch. I just spoke with you, and I'm supposed to call Director Kelly back, but she hung up without giving me her number and because you transferred me to her, I don't have it in my phone."
The woman on the other end gave an amused snort and connected Tara directly. Kelly picked up, said, "I meant call me on my mobile, not my desk phone."
"I'd love to if you would just give me your number."
A very long pause preceded Kelly's, "Oh." Then she rattled off the number, which Tara punched into her phone's keypad, and called the park director back on the 'vone' app. She kind of liked that term. It covered all the bases, instead of trying to remember which video phone program was used by which company.
Kelly's face came up on the screen—she was square-jawed, with short, greying hair, and her attention was like a laser focusing on Tara. "You can be direct, Ms. Lynch."
Well, if she couldn't be, she was screwed anyway, so Tara blurted, "My friend Declan is a peacock shifter and got himself caught in the Blarney Castle's peacock enclosure and they won't let me take him out again because I don't have papers proving he's an authorized pet and not a trafficked animal and he said there were a lot of shifters at your wildlife park so you were the only person I could think of who might help."
Director Kelly's eyebrows rose slowly, until they'd gone as high as they could go, and stayed there as Tara finished her rushed explanation. "That," she said after a considerable pause, "was very, very smart of you, Ms. Lynch. I can, in fact, provide exactly the kind of paperwork you require. I'll send it directly to the castle estate within the hour. It'll be Declan McCarthy, then?"
"Yes, but how did you know that?"
"Because Declan was the one dancing around you like a fool a few days ago at the park," Kelly said with a smile. "I don't run a nanny state here, Ms. Lynch, but we do have to keep a close eye on our shifters, whether they're visitors or permanent guests at Anavee Island, so I noticed."
"Thank goodness," Tara said, heartfelt. "I don't know his home address or anything, so?—"
"Don't worry," Kelly said gently. "This is part of what I do. They'll have the paperwork shortly. But please do tell Declan to be more careful in the future."
"I will," Tara said, but as they hung up, she wondered how he was supposed to be more careful, when they were trying to trap a thief.