Chapter 12 #4
As I paused and set down the carrier, I suddenly realized why my shoulders were knotted with tension: this would be my first time trying to capture an animal without the benefit of magic, and I didn’t know if I could do it.
Tentatively, I reached out for the smaller wards around the village—“my little friends,” I had always called them, never expecting they would be conscripted in this way, and for good reason.
Compared to the deep well of power my ancient roses had provided, this felt like trying to siphon off a puddle.
But maybe it was just enough, or maybe the crow was half-tame, because he didn’t move until I was practically on top of him.
By the time he thought to hop away, my hands were firmly holding down his wings.
He stared at me with one beady eye, and I saw myself reflected there, windblown and ragged, the skin beneath my eyes tinted blue.
“I call him Shadow,” the woman on the porch said as I tucked him into the carrier. “Will you let me know how he’s doing?”
“Sure, if you’d like to pick up the phone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You can just leave a message; I’ll hear it.”
“All right. I would like to bring him back here for his release, though.”
Shadow cawed anxiously from inside the carrier, and the woman turned away from me suddenly, blinking hard. “Yes, please do.”
I left the wild little yard, closing the gate behind me.
I wished I could say something to comfort her—that thanks to her own tiny sanctuary, Shadow wouldn’t have to battle the weakness and dehydration that plagued most injured birds that came into my care, and I was confident he’d be back in her yard in a matter of weeks. But the words stuck in my throat.
When I went down the driveway, there was a police car parked on the other side of the road, and Broder was staring at me through the window. I fought the urge to smile.
Good, I thought. If you’re here, you’re not poking around my gate trying to get in.
I ignored him, opening the back of the truck and working the carrier into the track that held it steady. As I closed the doors and went around to the driver’s side, I heard his window roll down, and I braced myself.
“What you got there, Tess?”
“Just a crow.”
“Ah. Dirty birds.”
“Yeah, I guess. Pretty stinky, pretty messy.”
“Gotta be taxing. You ever get tired of it?”
“Of cleaning up bird shit? Sure. But it’s part of the job.”
“Guess it’s probably better than dealing with the really dangerous animals.”
“Not really a consideration for me, Chief. The last dangerous animal I had to deal with was that bear stuck in the Walmart dumpster, and that was three years ago.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been talking to a couple of the board members, and they’re not sure they agree with your assessment.”
The village board was the closest thing I had to direct supervision as an animal control officer.
They were all in their eighties, and even without the influence of my magic, they probably would’ve struggled to remember my existence, but they wrote the checks.
I sent them hard copies of my annual reports and showed up to the occasional meeting, but for the most part, I stayed out of their way and they stayed out of mine.
I turned to face him, and met his gaze with my own hard stare. “Let me guess—you told them that fawn, who weighs less than the mayor’s dog, viciously attacked you and you barely made it out alive, and now she’s coming to eat them all in their beds.”
His face, already barely holding its mask of politeness, creased into irritation.
His arm shifted with the motion of shouldering open the door.
I grabbed hold of the magic—with so little to work with, there could be no more soft, smothering blankets, no gentle, silken ropes—and yanked it around his will like a garrote.
Broder made a surprised noise, as if he’d felt the sensation physically, and sagged back into his seat.
A beat of silence passed as sweat rolled down his temple.
He rolled up his window without another word and drove off, but that gave me no comfort.
I didn’t have the strength to influence him for more than a few minutes at a time, and certainly not at a distance; he would keep trying to undermine me until he had the fawn’s head.
The momentary sense of calm purpose I’d felt after catching the crow had disappeared, and I found my hands shaking as I got into the car.
The exchange had thrown into clear relief that I was risking my job for the sake of the fawn.
The board had no control over my wildlife rehabilitation license—that was the purview of the state’s Department of Environmental Conservation—but I didn’t doubt Broder would start trying to pull strings there too.
Was it worth it? Every logical notion said no, that it was better to sacrifice one for the good of the many.
I would have never argued that point in the past, but I found myself fighting it now.
Broder didn’t really believe the fawn was dangerous, because he didn’t know about the bandages on Sarah’s fingers or the teeth marks in my own hand; all he had to go on was his own ripped sleeve and unmarred skin.
He wanted me to capitulate for the sake of it.
Too bad, I thought grimly. I’m not going to.