Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Aila had never spent so much time cleaning the back of the kelpie exhibit.
Squelch went the mop into the bucket. Swish across the concrete floor, gathering chunks of wet horsehair and algae and jawbones from yesterday’s meal. Her cleaning solution smelled of pine, acrid to the nose and a little too familiar.
A date with a cute boy. A phoenix on the way. What more could she ask for?
When Aila’s phone alarm went off, she groaned. Time for her keeper talk.
With the enthusiasm of a slug, she dragged the goat carcass to the platform above the kelpie’s public exhibit. Onlookers awed and clapped as she lashed the meal to the hook.
“Behold”—Aila spoke in a monotone and swept a hand through the air—“the incredible, carnivorous water horse.”
She had nothing more to say. Fortunately, Maisie took over the show. The kelpie emerged from her pool like a hurricane, dragging the goat into the water amid a storm of fog and kelp fronds. The crowd cheered and snapped their photos as Aila slunk away, unnoticed. Thank the skies and seas for that.
Morning chores complete, she returned to the phoenix complex, thankful to retreat into the safety of—
“ Where have you been? ”
Tanya exploded as Aila entered, a tiger waiting to pounce, leaving her desk chair swiveling behind her. Aila froze like a startled deer.
“I was… doing my morning rounds?”
“Moping through morning rounds, more like it. You’re half an hour late getting back!”
“You time me?”
“When you’ve got a date to tell me about?” Tanya crossed her arms.
Aila dreaded the debrief. She’d texted bare details the night before, but a deeper delve seemed better in person. Aila plopped into her own desk chair, grimacing as she felt a clump of wet algae stuck to her pants.
“Sorry, Tanya. Feeling burnt out this morning.”
“No apologies.” Tanya’s tone turned annoyed. “You aren’t the only one late.”
Aila noticed the open door to the patio. An unfamiliar woman sat at the table, brown skin with cream blouse and black slacks, a recorder and notepad in front of her. Upon catching Aila’s eye, she waved. Aila froze like a startled animal once again.
“Good morning!” the reporter called. “Isabella Lopez, San Tamculo Valley News. I have an appointment to speak with Ms. Luciana Reyes, but would you happen to be Aila? The phoenix keeper? If you have a moment, I’d love to ask you a few questions.”
The recorder in her hand might as well have been a noose. Aila hopped from her chair, fleeing her eyesight.
“I’m so sorry. We’re busy at the moment. I’m sure Luciana will be here soon!” With a brittle smile, Aila ducked behind the cover of the wall, pulling Tanya with her as she dropped to a hush. “Luciana will be here soon. Right? ”
Tanya clicked her tongue. “I don’t have a GPS tracker on that woman.”
“You’re right.” Aila squinted, calculating. “That would make things much easier.”
Tanya swatted her. “We aren’t putting a tracker on a fellow zoo employee.”
Before Aila could argue the merits of the plan, Luciana burst into the room.
Or was it some strange doppelg?nger? Aila’s alarm flashed to confusion as she took in bits of hay dust marring the Queen of Perfection’s polo. Hurried strides sent her curls askew. Luciana smoothed the frizz with a hasty hand swipe, then beelined toward the patio, shooting Aila and Tanya a sharp look before snapping on a smile.
“Isabella! So good to see you. Apologies, I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”
As the women chatted outside, Aila and Tanya snuck back to their desks, a discreet vantage point to the patio. Luciana settled into a seat with ease, legs crossed at the knee. The reporter clicked on her recorder.
“Why’s she got to use our patio?” Aila complained.
“Looks more official?” Tanya shrugged. “She is our phoenix PR lady now.”
Aila groaned at that. At her shitty outing the night before. At everything. The only rescue from her reverie was a zipper whirring, a crinkle of plastic as Tanya retrieved something from her bag. Tanya scooched her chair close and set a container on Aila’s desk, revealing a massive custard tart on golden pastry, crowned with glazed berries.
“I love you,” Aila moaned.
“I know.” Tanya offered her a fork. “Now, tell me. Everything .”
Aila stuffed her face with tart. In between bites, she ran Tanya through her date in excruciating detail, not omitting a single word or facial expression. By the end, her stomach had returned to knots.
“So, there you go.” Aila poked the remnants of tart crust. “Another horrible date to add to the list. Someone ought to give me a punch card or something.”
Tanya sat beside her, tart forgotten, face puckered. “Hmph.”
“I guess I do talk about work too much.”
“Of course you talk about work,” Tanya said. “That’s your passion.”
“It’s boring.”
“Only boring to a person who can’t appreciate it. Can’t appreciate you .” Tanya tsked. “That boy ought to know better. Knew something was off with him.”
Aila blinked at her. “Tanya. What are you talking about? I’m the one who can’t hold a normal conversation for more than thirty seconds!”
“You manage that with me. All the time. Ought to be able to manage with a boy taking you on a date, if he had half a mind to listen.”
Tanya was kind. Too kind.
“He took me to a ridiculously fancy restaurant. Looked so worried when things started going to shit.” Aila dropped to a mutter. “Even texted this morning to say he had a nice time.”
That part in particular blew her thoughts to smithereens. No one had ever done something like that for her. No one cared enough.
“Did you text him back?” Tanya asked.
“Well, yeah, I didn’t want to be rude! I told him I had a good time, too.”
And not a word more than that. Aila wasn’t sure if she could survive another date. At the very least, she’d need a few days to bank up courage.
Tanya looked ready to strangle her. Or maybe, to strangle someone else. Even with the renovations out of the way, Aila couldn’t afford to lose her partner to manslaughter charges. They had a phoenix to prepare for.
“It’s fine,” Aila insisted. “Maybe I’ll do better next time. I’ll try not to—”
Clacking heels cut the conversation short. On the patio, Luciana shook the reporter’s hand, then led her back through the main room.
“A pleasure meeting you, Aila,” Isabella said, slowing as she passed. “I’m sure you’re very busy preparing for your new phoenix, but when you get a chance, I’d love to pick that brain of yours! Maybe once the new bird arrives?”
Aila smiled too wide, painfully aware of Luciana glaring behind the reporter’s back.
“Thanks,” Aila said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Once the bird arrives.”
She’d hoped Luciana would depart with their visitor. No such luck. As soon as the reporter left, Luciana slumped—actually slumped , something Aila had assumed that haughty posture incapable of. Luciana ran a hand through her curls, still sprinkled with hay dust.
“You missed a spot,” Aila said.
Luciana’s painted lips curled into a snarl, nails transformed to tangerine claws as she raked the tangles from her hair. “Have you got nothing better to do than sit here and judge while other people publicize your program?”
Aila’s nose wrinkled. “Have you got nothing better to do than show up late and glare at people?”
Tanya jabbed her arm. Her tone for the witch was softer. “Everything OK, Luc? You seem… distracted.”
Luciana’s fingers slipped through her hair once more, smoothing already flawless curls. “I’ve just been…” Her gaze flicked to Aila. Hardened. “Busy. I’ve got to get to a show.”
She was out the door again on hurried strides, curls bouncing back to chaos. Stretched too thin, hopping between reporters and griffin shows? Shame. Not like this was Aila’s idea.
Tanya swatted her again.
“Ow! What’s that for?”
“You could be nicer, Ailes. We’re supposed to be working together.”
Sure, and Aila’s volcanic salamander would freeze up at home. Luciana’s honey-barbed words were still rattling in her head when her phone screen lit up on the desk, the flash of a message from Connor. Aila whimpered. People were just too much sometimes.
“I’ll take you up on those ‘how to speak to cute boys without looking like an ass’ lessons you offered,” Aila told Tanya. “After work? Get some junk food, make a night of it?”
Tanya’s brows dug together. “I wish I could, Ailes. Another time. I’ve got a meeting with Director Hawthorn this week to discuss the volunteer program, still need to polish my proposal.”
Aila’s mouth made a little crinkle shape. That couldn’t be right. Tanya was always there when Aila needed her.
“But you already had a meeting,” Aila said, confused.
“I have another one. Pitching a new program takes a lot of meetings, Ailes.”
“Sure. I know that. It’s just, you haven’t mentioned anything.”
“Because we’ve been so busy with the phoenixes.”
The fleck of annoyance in Tanya’s tone silenced Aila like a slap. Panic crept up her throat, a chokehold that wouldn’t let go. It was one thing to fumble her date with Connor. Missing the mark with Tanya was another disaster entirely.
“But what about the phoenix transfer?” Aila said.
At the sight of a startled Aila, Tanya softened, a low but stern voice that sounded uncannily like what she used on her Bix phoenix—as if talking to a silly little animal who didn’t know any better. “We’ve got the building up to code. You have Luciana to do the talking. You’ve got this, Ailes. I just need a little time to work on my own project.”
Tanya collected the empty tart tin for the trash, their forks for the sink, gone into the kitchen while Aila curled up in her chair. She listened to the hum of the sink and stared at her hands. Stared at the stack of protocol binders on her desk.
Stared at the flashing notification on her phone. Aila groaned and opened the message from Connor.
Glad you had a good time! You free again next week?
She weighed the blank reply box, fingers hovering over the keys. Aila typed out a polite refusal. Deleted it. Typed a longer paragraph about how their first date felt off. Deleted that . Connor was so nice. So handsome. She was the weird one, too frazzle-brained from everything else to enjoy their dinner.
I’ll get back to you. Have to check my schedule. So busy!
She hit Send . An ellipsis popped up on Connor’s end, the reply immediate.
Let me know :)
Aila dropped her phone to the desk, and her head with it. She was just nervous about screwing up with Connor. Riled up by Luciana. Worried she’d upset Tanya. Her thoughts would be clearer once the phoenix arrived.
At least she had that to look forward to.
The time came at the start of spring.
Another careful calculation (i.e. more paperwork) by IMWS. Phoenixes bred during the heat of summer, timing their chick hatching to the warmest months. A spring introduction would land close to the start of breeding season, maximizing Rubra’s receptiveness to a new aviary mate while allowing time for the pair to bond.
Connor asked Aila on another couple of dates. She declined and deflected, the phoenix preparations a convenient excuse, indecision hanging over her like a guillotine.
But on that morning, nothing in the world could bring her spirits down.
A clear sky blanketed the aviaries, sun turning the glass to crystal. No visitors yet. Just Archie’s whooping calls within his forest, fast and deep like Aila’s anxious heartbeat as she waited at the loading dock of the phoenix complex. A truck backed to their doorstep. The couriers donned heat-resistant gloves and carried a large metal box inside.
“Right in here!”
Aila’s fingers shook as she punched in the code to the back aviary. They’d added a screened partition down the center, separating the quarters in two while the phoenixes acclimated to one another. Aila bounced on her feet as the couriers set the box on the floor.
Her heart shouldn’t beat this fast. She made herself pause, breathe. Hard to do, past the smile splitting her cheeks.
Heels clacked the linoleum as Maria Rivera inspected the endeavor. Once the couriers left, she gave Aila a smile and a squeeze on the shoulder before opening the lock on the box, sliding away a metal transport plate to reveal a mesh door.
“Would you like to do the honors?” the director asked.
Happily. And with too many jitters.
Aila opened the door to the crate, a brush of warm air hitting her hand, a scuffle of feet on the padded interior. Not wanting to startle their new resident, Aila backed out of the aviary, then joined Rivera peering through the bars.
A ruby head poked out. Tentative steps drummed the concrete, head cocking in every direction to inspect the new room.
Carmesi, the male phoenix, was a gorgeous bird. Smaller than Rubra (as male phoenixes tended to be), and in contrast to her solid crimson neck and breast feathers, his were scalloped in metallic gold. As he emerged from his carrier, his long tail lifted off the ground, red and gold plumes coated in flame.
Rubra was going to love him.
Though the screen prevented the phoenixes from seeing each other, Rubra perched in her half of the aviary with head tilted, aware of something amiss. She clucked, sharp and inquisitive.
Carmesi pecked his box. A docile temperament, even more than Rubra. Aila met him once during a tour of the Jewelport Zoo a month ago, a whirlwind of protocol demonstrations and interviews with the keepers that left her head spinning. Carmesi had been the highlight of the trip, perched on a keeper’s glove without a care in the world, cheeks puffed and eyes dozed as everyone lauded what a pleasant phoenix he was to work with.
Now, he was here. Aila beamed at her old poster on the wall, the curling yellow paper and faded ink of the phoenix print. Eight-year-old Aila would be squealing with delight. Adult Aila was barely more professional.
“You can remove the visual screen while keeping them separated?” Rivera asked.
Aila nodded. The design had been crucial to their inspection.
“Let’s give it a try,” the director said. “To gauge their receptiveness.”
Still in a dream, Aila slid out a panel of the screen, leaving a metal mesh the phoenixes could see through. Rubra hopped to the closest perch, peering into the other aviary. At the sound, Carmesi lifted his crest feathers. Aila returned to a bounce, eager to see how they’d react.
Rubra puffed her breast and let out the most heinous sound Aila had ever heard.
The angry cackle reverberated throughout the aviary, throughout the building. To accompany her vocal onslaught, Rubra raised every single feather, a monstrosity of crimson and flame, looking as large and intimidating as possible as she bobbed on her perch. Carmesi flattened his feathers and skittered back into his crate.
Rivera frowned. Aila showed her shock more openly, mouth agape, hands clutched.
“Oh no,” she whispered.