Chapter 12 Lady Hawk #2
Alright. Her facial features did not lie.
"Alright, Bess told me to tell you that she skipped no steps, even measured out the beans, and made it super fast," Taylor said appearing at her side again.
He was holding a new pinkish-coral colored to-go cup with the black cat logo on it, which looked adorable in his large hand.
"Though when I thanked her I'm pretty sure she growled at me.
This is safe, right?" He held the cup looking at it in concern.
"She knows not to poison the customers unless I tell her to," Eloise replied.
The very serious woman across from her was watching them and he nodded toward her. "Afternoon, Carol. How's the paper?"
"Detective," she said in greeting. "It's going well. Always something here to report on," she said with a smile that couldn't be defined as friendly.
"Excellent," he said and nodded his head behind him which Eloise took to mean let's get out of here.
"Great meeting you, Carol," she said getting another thin-lipped tight smile from her before going back to her peck-peck-pecking the keyboard.
As they walked away, putting enough safe distance between them and the patio, Eloise said softly, "Please tell me that pointy-face Carol does not work for a journalistic medium."
"Pointy-face? And she does. She was the one who wrote the article about Kyle Sandman for The Salem Settler."
"Dammit," she exclaimed under her breath.
"She's mostly harmless."
"Really?"
"No. She's nosy as hell and kind of a pain in the ass especially when it comes to anything remotely considered unusual here."
"Which would apply to me because I live in The Lost Souls House. Man, and I told her I saw Ursula naked."
He gave her an amused look mixed with shock. "What? How did that even come up in such a short time because Bess made this really fast." He held up the cup inspecting it. "And why did she measure the beans? Is that an actual thing?"
She sighed. "Just try it," she said with a wave of her hand, frustrated that she had sat with a journalist who clearly didn't have the best intentions where she or her friends were concerned, but glad she didn't have more time to ruin their reputation further.
She heard him curse softly. "That's good. Why is this so good?" His voice was cautious and she smelled suspicion mixed with warm milk and espresso.
She gave him a serious wide-eyed look and said, "Magic."
They both paused walking. He gave her a narrow-eyed look of doubt and then she smirked making them both laugh.
They were laughing and the air was that perfect spring mixture that was cool with a hint of warm sunshine, when out of nowhere a whooshing sound brought a splash of that cool air into her face and a heavy weight pressed down her left shoulder and she froze wide-eyed.
When she looked at Taylor, he was also staring at whatever was on her shoulder with a look of pure shock and awe.
"Okay, do not move," he said calmly.
She could read his face as it went into police mode trying to solve a problem, and the smell of old books, ancient magic, and a hint of grass rubbed between fingers filled her senses.
She slowly moved her head to see a pair of black eyes rimmed in sunflower yellow staring into her.
What she became immediately worried about was the black, hooked beak that looked like it could tear into her without effort.
"There's a large bird on my shoulder," she said, trying not to move, even pushing the words out of her still mouth like a ventriloquist.
"There is a Cooper's Hawk sitting on your shoulder," he agreed, his voice calm.
"I am so glad you identified exactly what kind of large bird, but ornithology is not my main concern right now," she said, the words squeezed through too tight a space.
She saw him out of the corner of her eye pull out his phone slowly, his eyes not moving from her or the bird. "I am impressed you found the word 'ornithology' while in this odd, and frankly terrifying situation," he remarked and her peripheral vision saw his fingers lightly move over his phone.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a whisper. The bird tilted his or her head, keeping its laser eyes on hers. The feet, which she knew would have talons for hunting were thankfully not digging into her, but she dared not move.
"I'm looking up what to do," he whispered back.
"Good, yeah. I'm sure there is a plethora of information for this situation," she said sarcastically.
"What do you suggest I do?"
"Know any Disney Princesses?"
"My niece is basically one. Cute as a button and always wearing those fluffy dresses. Also, a great dancer, and I would know because I do a lot of dancing when I go to my sister's house."
"Dammit, that's cute," she exclaimed softly.
"Maybe find a mouse? You'd like a nice, tasty mouse, wouldn't you, honey?
" She cooed at the bird. The bird tilted its head again and let out a short 'kik' that sounded like a dog's squeaky toy and she clenched her muscles trying not to move from the surprise of it.
It wasn't a sound of warning and gave her the impression of the bird being friendly.
The bird's white and brown spotted chest was beautiful, and if she were braver, she'd reach out to feel the soft feathers.
Something told her this hunting bird didn't land on her shoulder randomly.
"Find a mouse?" Taylor's voice broke into her thoughts. "That's horrible advice. Okay, this says that hawks can be aggressive toward humans but typically only when their nest or food source is being threatened. Have you touched a hawk's nest recently? Taken an egg?"
"Taken an..." she pulled in a slow breath as she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again.
Still, the bird stared at her. "No, I have not taken a hawk's egg, detective.
" Then the hawk lifted one leg and again she held her breath and let out a chant of, "Ohmygod ohmygod," in a low pitch, but then she stopped as she saw something curled in the hawk's talon.
Four bony claws tipped with razor-sharp black talons that matched its beak held something out and the hawk dipped its head, waiting.
She slid her eyes to where Taylor was watching, his blue eyes homed in on where the hawk was holding out its foot. She looked back at the hawk and got the distinct impression that it was becoming impatient so she lifted her own hand, very slowly, with a flat and nonaggressive palm facing upward.
"What are you doing?" his whisper held a frantic note.
"I don't know," she whisper-yelled back. But then the hawk nodded once in apparent encouragement.
"Good," he encouraged in a whisper. "Nice and slow."
The hawk then opened its claws, releasing something silver into her hand where it plopped.
One more 'kik kik' sound and then the hawk pushed off of her shoulder, causing her body to dip down and then it was in the air, swooping gracefully with its long tail and wide wings catching the sunshine wind as it flew off.
She turned toward Taylor and they silently stood there, both unmoving, taking in the moment as if they had been visited by a visage of something holy. And it felt that way, like she had been touched by the earth's blessing. And still, that strange and ancient smell lingered.
"That was..."
"Awesome," she said exuberantly. "A hawk just landed on my shoulder and gave me jewelry. Maybe I'm a Disney princess."
"Can you sing?"
"I mean, I'm not giving Ariel a run for her money, but I can hit notes."
He gave her a look then reached for her hand clutching what the hawk had left her.
As he gently peeled her fingers open, his touch warm and honest, they looked at the small, silver heart sitting in her palm.
It didn't look new, but also not antiquated.
She turned it over to find a scrolling "C" etched into the silver.
"Do you think the Hawk's name starts with a "c"?" she asked.
"I feel like you're kidding, but since we're still getting to know each other, I'm going to answer that. No. I do not think the hawk's name starts with a "c", nor do I think the hawk has a name."
She smiled and turned the heart over in her hand. It looked well-worn and loved. The tiny marking of .925 was barely legible but denoted that it was made of silver. "Alright, I guess I'll take this home and find a chain to put it on."
"You're going to wear it?"
She gave him an incredulous look. "If a fearsome, marvelous creature swooped out of nowhere and left you a charm, you're telling me you wouldn't wear it? That is bad bird friend etiquette."
"This is the first time I've ever thought about it. Give me a second," he said as they continued walking. He drank more of his latte and looked down at the cup. "Seriously, this is the best latte I have ever had. And I don't like lattes."
"No? Let me guess," she tapped her chin with the pad of her index finger thoughtfully. "Americano. Black. A nip of maple syrup in the fall when you're feeling fancy."
"Okay, first of all, that's creepy. Second," he took another drink before he continued, "it's important for a man to feel fancy sometimes."
She laughed and told him about the beans, where she sourced them from.
He asked questions about her cafe in Florida and what had gotten her into making coffee.
She gave him the simple, half-truth answer; she'd always had a particular sense of smell that gave her an edge to taste.
She could cook and bake fairly well. She knew certain tricks; exactly how much vanilla to add to ensure the flavor highlighted the pastry but didn't overwhelm the tastebuds or what skills in the kitchen could elevate a simple recipe making someone feel like they were precisely where they should be as they ate it.
Food had always been a kind of magic to her. Just the right ingredients and a person could feel taken care of.
The full truth involved digging into memories she spent a good amount of time avoiding.