Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
An emergency at the phoenix complex.
Aila raced out of the gift shop, cursing the throngs of patrons clogging the walkways, spurred by frantic thoughts of what could have gone awry. A patron disturbance? Tanya would have called zoo security, zoo medical, a half-dozen people before Aila. An escaped animal? They had protocol for that, code phrases and chains of command. Tanya hadn’t said what was wrong, either because they had no protocol for it, or she didn’t want it overheard on the radio.
Or both. Aila’s two phoenixes were on exhibit together. She’d left Tanya monitoring them, making sure they played nice.
Rubra. Sweet, angsty Rubra. Please, please, please, she couldn’t have done this.
Then Aila heard the screeching: two warring phoenix chants. Patrons gathered at the observation window, words obscured in the din, but all ringing of alarm. Aila bypassed them and stormed into the keeper building.
Beyond the observation window, fire flashed.
“Grab a glove!” Tanya ran past, pulling a fireproof glove up to her shoulder. “Those damn birds are fighting!”
“ Fighting? ” Aila’s mouth went dry. “What happened?”
“No idea. First, they were chattering at each other. Then chaos. We’ve got to get them separated.”
Fights among animals weren’t unheard of in a zoo. Aila’s vanishing ducks pestered the periwinkle prairie geese all the time. The mirror flamingos had a stringent social hierarchy that went through infighting every season. Aila’s job was to observe. Plan. Minimize. Keep all her charges healthy and safe.
Especially if those charges had fiery tails that could melt low-grade iron.
Especially if they were supposed to be bonding with each other.
Aila grabbed a glove and yanked the stiff material up to her shoulder. Tanya entered the exhibit, Aila close behind. Singed olive leaves coated the ground, the air sharp with smoke.
Fire flashed again as the two phoenixes tumbled to the ground, legs kicking and beaks pecking feathers, tails swirling around them like a molten hurricane. The sight robbed Aila of breath—her two precious birds shrieking in distress. As they came apart, Carmesi retreated to a corner. Rubra cackled from a tree branch, too high for Aila to grab.
“You get Rubra!” she called out.
Tanya approached with caution. At the new threat, Rubra puffed her feathers and hissed, but Tanya distracted her with one hand raised. The gloved hand snuck below the branch and grabbed Rubra’s jesses, a pair of light metal cords fastened around each ankle. Rubra squawked and tried to fly off, wings thundering crimson, but Tanya held on to the jesses, gloved arm extended to keep fiery tail feathers at a distance. After a moment of futile flapping, Rubra succumbed and perched on Tanya’s glove, panting and puffed, but quiet.
Time for Carmesi.
Aila found him in a corner, a nervous cluck in his throat. Nowhere to go. That made for a dangerous situation with any animal.
Maybe Aila wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe she’d grown accustomed to Carmesi’s docile demeanor, but under such duress, she should have been more cautious. Aila came straight for him, a looming human in a monstrous glove. She grabbed one metal jess on the ground.
Carmesi lunged before she could grab the second.
With one leg controlled, the other lashed out, a talon scraping Aila’s cheek. He beat his wings in a bid to escape, a blur of red and gold walloping her arm, flicks of fiery tail feathers whipping past unprotected skin. The heat left her stinging.
Aila froze in panic, unsure whether to let go of the bird or hold on. Phoenixes were dangerous, but docile. She’d never dealt with one thrashing on her glove, an angry chant ringing in her ears. When Carmesi swished his tail at her, she shielded her face behind a raised arm, hissing as fire licked her skin.
A firm grip hit her shoulder.
Another glove grabbed Carmesi’s jesses and wrenched them out of Aila’s hand. She stumbled backward, arm stinging, eyes wide.
Luciana moved with the force of a tempest, tall and unshaken, gloved hand extended as Carmesi fluttered on her fist. Though the phoenix cried and thrashed, she stood as still as a monolith. Not a quiver. Not a crack in focus as she held that fire-lashing tail out of range.
Aila had no words for her, a woman wreathed in flame, blazing with her own surety.
“Are you OK?” Luciana asked.
Aila nodded, shaky.
“Come inside.”
With unfathomable calm, Luciana walked into the keeper room, Carmesi a torrent of red and gold on her glove.
Tanya waited inside, holding Rubra. With another phoenix in sight, the once calm bird puffed her feathers and yanked at her jesses with an angry cackle.
“Put her in the aviary,” Luciana ordered. “Make sure the screen is up. Is this counter fireproof?”
While Tanya took Rubra away, Luciana claimed a chair at the observation window and rested her gloved arm on the metal countertop. Carmesi squawked and yanked at his jesses. Luciana sat unmoved, not looking at him.
“What should we do?” Aila asked.
“Shh,” Luciana said. “Sit down. Relax.”
Aila would have an easier time leaping over the aviary. The distressed cries of her birds scraped like claws inside her head, but Luciana’s order offered no room for quarter. Like another nervous animal, Aila sat at her desk. Tanya brought her an ice pack for the burn on her arm, a minor injury.
They sat in silence. Three keepers and a crying bird whose fiery tail raked the metal countertop.
Luciana never flinched. Her posture exuded calm, an unmovable force anchoring the room. Aila wasn’t sure how to react to Luciana just sitting there. Her brain channels, once a consistent conduit of “fuck this bitch,” were turning all cross-wired, short-circuiting with images of dewy lashes and plush griffins and wreaths of flame.
“Why did you become a zookeeper?” Luciana asked, soft as a breeze.
“ Me? ” Aila fought her voice down from a squeak. “Is that important right now?”
“No. Tell me anyway. Using a calm voice.”
“Aila” and “calm” were not historically compatible concepts. She tried her best.
“I… visited the zoo when as a kid. I saw the phoenixes. I fell in love.” Her whole heart, now fluttering on Luciana’s glove. Nerves turned her words to a slurry, but Luciana told her to talk, so she talked . “They’re the most beautiful animals in the world, and we nearly lost them, they were nearly gone forever . To be a part of that, to work toward saving something so special…” Aila clutched her hands. Picked at her nails. “That, and… animals are easier than people. It’s like they understand me. They never judge me.”
Aila didn’t know if she’d managed the calm part. Or why those last words came out so earnest. Or why her heart clawed into her throat as Luciana listened, watching with dark and intent eyes.
Carmesi yanked at the glove, letting out another angry cackle.
“Why did you become a zookeeper?” Aila blurted.
Luciana flashed a surprised brow. Then a grin. “In high school, my guidance counselor had a mouse griffin in the office. Calming aura from the ear tufts, you know, useful for teenagers having emotional crises. It was adorable. I wanted one as a pet.”
Aila’s high school counselor had a mouse griffin, too. And most therapy offices she’d visited. A staple of the modern psychology field—and also cute pets.
“It was just me and my mom at home,” Luciana went on. “She was working two jobs. Said if I wanted a pet, I’d have to learn how to take care of it myself. So I did. I read every handbook, researched diets, saved all my money for the adoption fee. I named him Waffle Cone, and he was the best little mouse griffin in the world. It was amazing watching him grow, thrive. That’s when I knew I wanted to go into animal husbandry.”
Aila listened to the tale, yet another hidden piece of Luciana, enraptured.
So did Carmesi. As Luciana spoke in her calm cadence, the phoenix stopped squawking. His fluttering turned less frantic. At last, he perched quiet on her glove, panting. He cocked his head from side to side, finally registering that the world wasn’t trying to eat him.
“There you are,” Luciana said, soft as a mother’s whisper. “Worked it all out of your system?” She poked Carmesi’s beak. He gave an indignant cluck, followed by a finger nibble.
Aila’s jaw fell toward the floor. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“Keep your voice down,” Luciana chided. A semblance of normalcy. “Animals can sense your tension.”
Aila knew that. Of course she knew that. This was just a stressful situation, not conducive to recalling minor important details. She forced herself still in her chair.
“Luciana. That was… amazing. How? ”
Luciana brushed a knuckle down Carmesi’s breast feathers, cautious movements, judging his reaction. “We handle our show birds a lot more often than you do. Have to stay calm when one gets unruly, help them feel safe again. You think this was a tantrum? Try dealing with a green-plumed dragon when they get grumpy.”
Right. Horns and fangs, Aila knew that , too. Not something she had personal experience with, but as her brain permitted access once more, she dredged up what she’d read about similar techniques for acclimating animals. So much more… artful to watch a first-hand demonstration. Luciana eased Carmesi closer to her on the counter, rewarding him with a cheek scratch. He was a changed bird, relaxed and uttering affectionate clucks in his throat.
Now if they could get Rubra to relax the same.
“Do you think…?” No, that was a stupid idea. Aila had read every approved phoenix pairing technique published in the last two decades, and none documented an approach like this.
“What do I think?” Luciana said, soft enough to not disturb Carmesi. And to send Aila’s heart for a spin.
She swallowed. For once, let her have a little courage.
“Do you think I could try bringing Rubra back out here?” Aila asked. “Now that Carmesi’s calmed down?”
Surprise parted Luciana’s lips. Then, the soft curve of a smile. Delicate. Beautiful.
“Can you be calm for me, Aila?”
Aila could have been a lot of things for her in that moment, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She nodded.
“It’s worth a try,” Luciana said.
Aila didn’t want to. Today had been disastrous enough, all thanks to her decision to put the phoenixes out together. What if they fought again? What if one of them got hurt? The weight of possible failures crashed down like an avalanche.
She couldn’t let it bury her. Luciana was right. The only way she’d get this breeding program running was to get her ass in gear and keep working, even if everything went awry.
“Whatever she does,” Luciana said, “stay calm. Don’t feed her your nervous energy.”
“Calm” was a relative term. Aila wrangled her nerves as she slipped a glove back on, walked to the aviary, and tapped the code into the lock. Rubra hopped onto her hand without hesitation, as well-mannered as ever.
The moment Rubra saw Carmesi, she puffed like a balloon. Aila tensed.
“Calm,” Luciana urged, her voice honey. “Sit down with her.”
Aila sat at her desk, phoenix propped as far as possible from any flammable paperwork (not going through that again). Rubra clucked and pranced on her glove, staring Carmesi down. Across the room, Luciana sat with perfect poise, unmoved by the phoenix’s wrath.
Aila followed her lead. One breath in, another one out. She faced away from Rubra’s angry dance, focusing on the pattern of linoleum tile beneath her boots. On the sun-dappled olive leaves beyond the observation window. On the glint of light across Luciana’s curls.
A smile lifted Luciana’s lips. Such a tiny thing, that curve of maroon pulling a dimple against one cheek, almost too subtle to notice. But Luciana wasn’t looking at Carmesi. Or Rubra.
She was looking at Aila.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Aila demanded.
Luciana’s grin vanished. “Like what?”
“All… weird .”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were!”
“Aila, keep your voice down. For the birds.”
Aila scrunched her nose but kept silent. Luciana was the expert.
After several heart-thudding minutes, Rubra’s clucks petered out. When at last the phoenix fell silent, she tipped an indignant look around the room. Then to her keeper. Aila forced herself to stay calm, amazed as Rubra’s feathers relaxed. Though the bird kept a glare on Carmesi, she settled to a normal perch on Aila’s glove.
The room fell quiet. Like magic. Aila didn’t dare move, lest the spell shatter.
Luciana was first, a satisfied nod as she stood with Carmesi. “A good start for today. Keep them apart for now. We can try for longer next time.”
Her boots clacked linoleum as she returned Carmesi to his aviary. Tanya and Aila locked flabbergasted gazes. Luciana plucked her oversized griffin plush off the counter.
“Thanks again for the griffin,” she said. “See you tomorrow. Losers.”
She strode out the door.
The latch clacked shut. In the silence, Rubra ruffled her feathers and began to preen, as if she hadn’t engaged in mortal conflict that afternoon.
“What was that ?” Tanya demanded.
“Amazing,” was all Aila could whisper.