Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
This was a disaster. An unqualified tragedy. Proof that romance was an overblown sham.
Oh, and also Aila’s phoenixes were fighting.
She dropped her phone to the counter, ignoring Connor’s latest text message. Like a coward, she’d spent another two weeks avoiding him. At least she had an excuse. For two weeks, every minute of free time had gone toward convincing Rubra to tolerate Carmesi’s presence.
Not going well.
Aila slumped with her head in her hands and elbows propped on the counter, staring out the observation window into the phoenix exhibit. She’d tried letting them acclimate in the side-by-side aviaries, but Rubra cackled like a mad bird whenever she could see the intruder. Next, Aila tried setting Carmesi outside in his carrier while Rubra was on exhibit, but Rubra dropped olive branches onto the box until it was hidden from sight. For her last, most aggressive attempt, Aila released both birds out on exhibit at once, monitored to make sure they didn’t attack each other.
Rubra perched in one corner of the aviary, feathers puffed. Carmesi crouched on the opposite side, trying to hide in a corner. Whenever he dared move, Rubra chirped in agitation.
“Rubraaaa,” Aila moaned, channeling the heartbreak of a parent whose child refused to play well with others. In this case, the fate of a species depended on that stubborn child. She dropped her head to the cold metal countertop, listening to the rhythmic crunch and tap of Tanya chopping food in the kitchen.
Luciana was late. Again.
As if angst over Connor and uncooperative phoenixes weren’t already turning Aila’s hair grayer in the bathroom mirror each morning, that griffin show witch insisted on breathing down her neck. We have another request for an interview, Aila. You need to get these phoenixes comfortable with each other, Aila. Like the solution was as simple as flailing her arms over a candlelit ritual circle.
Aila had a couple of scented candles at home, birthday gifts from her mother. Cranberry spice. Vanilla latte. Not exactly cult materials.
For the third time that week, Luciana had demanded Aila meet her at the phoenix complex. For the third time that week, she didn’t have the decency to show up on time. Some PR specialist. When the door finally opened, Aila swiveled in her chair with a weaponized scowl, prepared to give Luciana a piece of her mind.
Connor stood in the doorway. Aila deflated like a popped balloon.
“Oh. Hello,” she squeaked, not unlike their early meetings.
Skies and seas, he was as handsome as ever, especially with that concerned furrow to his brow. The languid curl of hair against his temple. Focus, Aila. Be strong.
“Morning, Aila. Do you have a minute?”
In the kitchen, Tanya’s chopping came to an abrupt halt. She appeared in the doorway with eyes narrowed and knife brandished. Connor reacted with fitting alarm.
“What do you want, Connor?” Tanya demanded. “We’re busy over here.”
“Yeah, Aila’s told me, very busy with the introduction.” He moved to the observation window. “How are the phoenixes?”
The trepidation in his voice snared Aila all over again. Even by her socially diminished standards, she’d been awful to him since their date. And she’d always had a weakness for poor animals with pleading eyes.
“It’s all right, Tanya,” Aila said. “I’ve got a minute. At least until Luciana shows up.”
Tanya gave her a sympathetic look. Raised her knife. Aila wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that meant, but she appreciated the support. She returned to a slump on the counter.
“The phoenixes are awful.”
With Tanya back in the kitchen, Connor pulled up a chair. “Still fighting?”
Aila nodded.
“I’m sorry, Aila. I’m sure you’re doing everything you can.”
“And then some! IMWS, the Jewelport keepers, even Garumano called to give me advice. None of it works.” She extended pleading hands to her bickering birds on the other side of the glass. “Rubra’s having none of it. And Carmesi is fucking terrified of her.”
Connor laughed. “If I was courting someone with a fire tail, I’d be pretty intimidated.”
Despite two very shitty weeks, Aila chuckled. What was she doing? She was supposed to be aloof, distant. He wasn’t supposed to make her laugh so easy.
“Even worse,” she said, “Luciana’s insisting I get a new live camera set up.” She waggled her hands, imitating Luciana’s haughty tone. “ Stop being a stick in the mud, Aila. The live camera is crucial to our publicity. What’s the point of having phoenixes if you won’t show them off? ”
That was the kinder version of the tirade Aila had to stomach no less than ten times in the past two weeks.
“So what’s the problem?” Connor asked. “A live camera sounds like a great idea.”
Not him, too. “What are the viewers going to watch, Connor?” She gestured to Rubra puffed on her perch, Carmesi cowering beneath a branch.
“Any phoenix camera is bound to be popular.” He smiled, slow and encouraging and far too dangerous for Aila’s heart. “And once the pair come around to each other? All the better.”
As if Aila hadn’t heard that line from Luciana already. That was only half the issue.
“And what about protecting the phoenixes from poachers? IMWS thinks the poachers at Jewelport must have watched the live camera to keep tabs on the birds, waited until the female immolated so they could grab the chicks.”
Connor looked away from her, out the window, a scrunch to his mouth. “Maybe. But, Aila, you don’t think anyone would try that again? Those thieves probably counted themselves lucky to get away so clean the first time.”
Aila wished she could believe that. She wished her recurring nightmare hadn’t become waking up to a news broadcast, Rubra missing and her exhibit trashed. No one seemed to agree with her. Luciana wanted the spotlight a camera would bring to the zoo. IMWS supported the idea, hoping to smooth over the bad publicity of the phoenix nabbing.
Now, Connor.
Hard to push back against him. The way he smiled. The way his brow furrowed as Aila shared her concerns. Why hadn’t their date gone this smoothly? Maybe that night was a fluke, a misunderstanding. She ought to give him another chance.
“So, Aila,” he said. “I know you’ve been busy, and I don’t want to get in the way. But maybe we could grab lunch sometime? Right here at the zoo, nothing fancy. Just something to give you a moment to breathe?”
Aila’s thoughts scrambled for excuses, but none came out. A quiet lunch sounded… nice. Talking to him again sounded nice. Memories of that frustrating evening faded under scrutiny, too hard to remember while he was smiling at her now.
Despite Aila’s avoidance, Connor had kept after her for weeks. That ought to count for something? No one had ever pursued Aila before. No one had ever made her feel wanted.
Before she could open her mouth, the door burst open.
Luciana entered with brisk strides, commanding the room in an instant. Eyes like smoky quartz darted over the observation window, the chopping from the kitchen, the counter where Aila and Connor sat too close to one another.
“Oh, hey, Luc,” Connor greeted, and skies and seas forbid if the tension in his voice didn’t make Aila adore him more. “How are you—”
“Out,” Luciana ordered. “We’ve got important business to discuss.”
So important, she’d arrived twenty minutes late. Aila resisted an eye roll.
Connor didn’t. He leaned closer to Aila. A brush of his thumb against her hand sent her heart spinning. “Let me know about lunch?”
He left. The glare he shared with Luciana was like two mountain ranges colliding, ridges steep as the north Movas Plateau. Aila couldn’t decide whether to be intimidated or enamored.
Luciana pulled out her phone, gilded nails clacking the screen. She’d always been the kind of person whose hair stayed curled even during the frizziest rainstorms. Who’d remove her gaudy hoop earrings while drawing blood tests from scarp griffins in their training clinic, then pop the jewelry back in for a stroll to the coffee shop, flanked by her adoring fans.
Aila savored some small victory seeing Luciana’s hair pulled into a tight tail, curls limp, oily at the roots. Her gold-dusted eyeshadow was only stunning, not flawless. Her black polo was peppered with barn straw. Dark circles framed her eyes.
Still trying to do too much, running a griffin show and a phoenix PR campaign? Oh, how even the mighty fell. Except this fall could take Aila with her.
“I’ve gotten two more interview requests,” Luciana said, staring at her phone. “The Chaparral Bulletin , local. And a bigger request from the Movasi National News.”
Aila groaned. She’d taken three years to deliver a keeper talk in front of a crowd without fainting. What did these reporters expect out of her in front of a camera?
“Sounds great. I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own.”
Luciana looked up, armed with a menacing eyebrow. The woman glared like a cockatrice, like she could turn the world to stone. Maybe that was what Aila needed—to become a statue for the next century, free of interview requests and dating angst. A hundred years from now, when someone invented an antidote to cockatrice glares, she could snap back into existence with no one left to disappoint.
“You want me to handle all these interviews?” Luciana said.
“That’s what you were hired for, wasn’t it?” Miss Fancy Pants PR Director ought to be loving all the attention. She always had.
“I’m here to help,” Luciana said. “Not to be the sole face of your program.”
“ My program would be better off without me freezing up on camera. Or is that what you’re hoping to see?”
In the pit of her mind, Aila heard that honeyed laugh, saw Luciana seated in the back of their outreach classroom while Aila trembled on the stage. Her hands clenched as the older, angrier version of Luciana glared her down.
“You’re the head keeper for this exhibit, you dork. I can only field so many requests on your behalf. The reporters want to hear from you . Their audiences want to hear from you . At least once.” Her nails glistened, an accusing point to the window. “Or did you think you’d get a phoenix transferred here and never have to show it off?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed”—Aila waved a less elegant noodle arm toward the exhibit—“there’s nothing to show off. Not while our phoenix pair refuse to come within twenty feet of each other. So how about I focus on doing my job and getting these birds acclimated, before the whole program goes up in flames?”
Aila’s dreams with it. Her career.
Luciana should have snapped back like an orchid viper, a gorgeous creature armed with fangs and venom. Instead, her fingers went to her temple. She breathed out. For a second, Aila thought she heard that breath hitch. What in the widest skies and seas was this act?
“I’ll take care of the interviews.” Luciana’s words came quick. Crisp. She stuffed her phone back into a pocket. “How about the live camera? Have you made a decision?”
Aila turned to a puddle in her chair. If one more person nagged her about this camera, she’d scream.
“I already told you. We don’t need one.”
“Don’t need one? Or you don’t want one?”
“How is that any different?”
Luciana’s hands clenched and unclenched, claws at her sides. Somehow, that made her less scary. Angry animals, Aila could deal with.
“The zoo wants that camera, Aila.” Her voice rose. “IMWS wants that camera. The visitors want that camera.”
“I care about the birds. Not them.”
“Then get your head out of your ass and stop pretending these are separate issues!”
In the kitchen, the chopping stopped. Tanya spied around the doorframe, shooting mental knives at Luciana’s back. A silent look to Aila. For once, Aila didn’t take the way out. Her chair spun as she stood.
“The phoenixes are supposed to be our focus. Not some pimped-up production for news cameras and live chats.”
Luciana scoffed. “Do you have any idea how much zoo visitation has increased since that male phoenix got transferred? Of course not. You haven’t been to a staff meeting in months, holed up here like a cavern eagle.”
“What do I care about zoo visitation?” More crowds. More litter. More people tapping on Rubra’s glass and flashing photos when she needed to focus on romance. “I care about the phoenixes!”
“It’s the same thing, Aila! All the money for your renovations.” Luciana swept an arm over the pretty linoleum, the orange walls. “All from zoo admission fees. Those visitors are funding your phoenixes.”
Aila balked, eyes on the ground. “Sure. Some of it. Even without that, IMWS would have given us a grant to—”
“Where does IMWS get its funds? Ten percent zoo revenue from the partnership program. Another seventy percent donations. And who’s donating, Aila? The people who visit a zoo and get inspired by seeing a Silimalo phoenix in person. The people all over the world watching a live camera of a bird sitting on a nest. The Jewelport live cam had the highest revenue generation of any IMWS publicity project in the past five years.”
Aila’s mouth clamped shut. Of course zoo visitation funded their conservation programs. Maybe she hadn’t known the exact numbers. Horns and fangs, was it that much?
Not the point. All this fanfare, all this pomp and showboating. Aila couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand that they needed it, that she was expected to wave her phoenixes around like theater props to convince people they deserved to keep existing.
“Look,” Luciana said, as condescending as if she were addressing a child. “I know you’re shit at this, OK? But if you care about those birds, at some point you need to suck up your own pride and start reaching out to people.”
Oh, no.
Oh, she did not just say that.
On a less grumpy day? Aila might have cowered. Retreated. Fallen mute into the corner where Luciana always pushed her. Today, she was mad at her phoenixes. Anxious over Connor. Now here came Luciana, the most convenient punching bag.
“Oh,” Aila snapped, “and you would know all about sucking up your pride and reaching out to people?”
Luciana’s pretty nose wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Look at me, I’m Miss Perfect Luciana.” Aila waggled her unpainted nails, batted imaginary earrings. “Tyrant of the griffin show. Best phoenix publicist in the world even though I’ve only been at it a few weeks. Doesn’t matter, because I’ll do everything myself, even if that means I can’t be on time for an appointment to save my life!”
Luciana’s lips curled into a snarl. “That’s not the point. You’ll only get better at talking to people if you practice.”
Just practice.
Just try harder.
Just be a different person.
As if Aila hadn’t heard all that a thousand times. As if she hadn’t tried a thousand times to be normal . Her heart raced at the mere thought of an audience filled with judging faces. Of words stalling, scratchy, in her throat.
“You think I haven’t tried!” Something sharp pricked her eyes, but Aila refused to cry in front of her . “I’ve spent my whole life trying! But not all of us can talk to people like it’s nothing. Not all of us are born perfect and successful like you.”
Luciana reeled. “I never said I was perfect .”
“No? You just act like it! Prancing around here as if everything is easy.” Aila smacked a hand to her chest. “It isn’t easy for me, Luciana. So let me do what I’m good at and focus on the phoenixes.”
“You can do both! Just one interview. That’s all.”
“Why? So you can laugh at me again when I mess up?”
The room went fuzzy—too much blood to Aila’s head, too many memories clawing at her stomach. That stage in their outreach classroom. Her legs shaking, words refusing to form. An arc of chairs in front of her, the instructor with a quizzical look behind her clipboard, the other students watching with mortified fascination, not a single one willing to help.
And Luciana. The class star, Luciana, sitting in the back row. How had Aila ever looked up to this woman? Idolized her. How had she thought they might be…?
Aila could have shouted at her. Could have burst into tears.
Except now, standing in the phoenix complex, Luciana’s eyes went wide. She paled as if she’d seen a phantom.
“You… remember that?” she whispered.
Aila warred against her tears. One slipped out anyway. She swiped it with the back of a hand.
“Of course I remember! I was terrified, embarrassed, and what did you do? You laughed at me. Was I that funny to you? That pitiful? Have I always been?”
Luciana shook her head. “That’s not—”
“And then you had the nerve to come around the next day and abandon me for our group project?”
That snapped some fire back into the witch. “Why would you say that?”
“What? You remember how much fun it was to laugh at my expense, but ditching me as dead weight is bland enough to slip your memory? We were supposed to work together. I was looking forward to it!” Despite everything, that was the truth. How pitiful. “Everyone’s favorite, Luciana. Then you ran to the professor to get reassigned. Am I that insufferable to you? Is that what you think of me?”
It shouldn’t have mattered. Aila survived college. She landed her dream job. What did it matter, having the approval of someone like Luciana?
“What I think of you?” Luciana snapped. “How about what you think of me ? Since the moment we started working together, you’ve treated me like some conceited, self-absorbed bitch. Is that all I am to you?”
“You could have given me a chance, rather than abandoning me!”
“I didn’t abandon anybody!”
Luciana had tears in her eyes.
Aila did a double take. Those flawless lashes. Those warm brown cheeks. They weren’t made for crying. Too haughty, too proud. The tears glinted like a rim of crystal, a sparkle against black eyeliner and golden shadow, a perfect accent, yet perfectly out of place.
“You think I backed out on you?” Even wounded, even trembling, Luciana’s voice boomed. “My best friend had just lost her dad. I spent a month with her sobbing her eyes out on my shoulder, watching her hardly eat. I asked to get reassigned to her group so I could look after her. Make sure she finished the assignment so she wouldn’t have to drop out. The first in her family to get into college.” Luciana sniffed, wiping her eyes with the spite of a woman waging war. “What would her dad have thought if I let her quit when she was so close?”
Aila’s words stalled on her tongue.
Her own tears dried, her surprise too numbing. In an instant, a decade of angst-hewn mental pathways bucked their borders, straining beneath this new information.
She’d never thought…
She’d never heard…
“Luciana. I—”
“It’s not always about you , Aila. Other people have problems, too.”
Luciana wiped her eyes one last time. Her breath came deep, the shake gone by the exhale. She didn’t look at Aila again. Her boots thudded the linoleum as she swung open the door, a sliver of midday sun swallowing her silhouette as she disappeared outside.
Aila stood rooted. Mouth gaping. Brain processing.
“Well… shit,” Tanya offered from the kitchen.
Aila swayed until her desk chair caught her. The slow spin matched the tumbling in her head. Luciana. Proud, perfect Luciana. “Did she just… cry in front of us?”
“Sure did,” Tanya said.
Tears Aila had seen before, at the griffin barn. Inconceivable. Too human.
“And she said… all that about her friend. I never knew.” How could Aila not have known? Luciana’s life was always on stage, poised and successful. On the surface. Distracted by her own inadequacies, Aila never bothered wondering what else might lurk underneath.
Should she have?
“Ailes.” Tanya clicked her tongue. “Are you still on about that group project years ago? Sometimes, you’ve got to let little things go. Bad for your blood pressure.”
“Did you know? When you two were on barn duty together?”
Tanya’s eyes dropped to the floor. “No. Luc, she… doesn’t talk about herself much, you know? I never pried.”
Aila dug hands into her hair. What did it matter? Luciana had laughed at her. Stuck her nose up at her. Treated her like a bug in her path at every opportunity. What difference did it make if the witch had a secret heart buried beneath the make-up and hair gloss?
Except this time, Aila was the one who’d made assumptions, said nasty things. She’d treated Luciana like a plague, fueled by an anger she’d bottled up for years. Part of it, unfounded. Aila had never imagined Luciana might have another reason for abandoning her. Too easy to assume it was Aila’s fault. To take things personally.
She couldn’t leave things this way.
Aila groaned. “Shit. I have to go apologize, don’t I?”
“You’re going to do what ?” Tanya’s brow shot up.
Aila stood. “Can you keep an eye on the phoenixes?”
“Well, sure.”
“Super. I’ll be right back.” Assuming she didn’t keel over from embarrassment in the process.
Aila plunged out the door, into the glaring sunlight, off to apologize to her mortal enemy. Worst decision she’d ever made? Possibly.
After several weeks of bad decisions, she hoped the only way left to go was up.