Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aila expected a pleading message from Connor the next day. Maybe a heart-wrenching phone call. Or even a visit to the phoenix complex, where he begged for a second chance with a bribe of chocolate. After several weeks of pursuit on Connor’s part, a clean break seemed too much to hope for.
Yet Aila heard nothing.
No phone messages. No Connor lurking around corners at the staff office, or the aviaries, or the loading dock of the phoenix complex any of the dozen times Aila hiked out to make sure the security cameras were working. No more strangeness on the video feed after that night.
Crickets would have been preferable to the unsettling silence. Maybe she’d read Connor wrong, and he’d been eager for a way out. Maybe he was wallowing in the dragon exhibit, waiting for her guard to drop before he struck. Aila spent the rest of the week flinching every time her phone buzzed.
A suitable reaction, when an email from the IMWS director popped into her inbox.
That shouldn’t be allowed. Those kinds of heart-dropping messages ought to come with warnings, whistles. Not cheerful salutations and Hello Aila! I’m in town for a conference. Would you mind if I stop by tomorrow to check on the nest? Best, Maria.
Aila couldn’t decide whether to celebrate or faint at the first-name-basis with Director Rivera. She settled for a half-assed attempt at curling her hair (recalling as much as she could from Luciana’s demonstration, plus an online instructional video), then a thermos of coffee doused with enough sugar to leave her buzzing for the morning meeting. Needless to say, she hadn’t slept well. A dose of prescription-strength periwinkle prairie goose sleeping syrup took the edge off, but even magic couldn’t work miracles.
The lavender smell lingered in Aila’s nose. She had that going for her, at least.
Morning routine complete, she waited in the zoo entry plaza, bouncing on the balls of her boots as the first patrons wandered through the gates. Heat baked the concrete, sunbeams glaring off the bronze peacock griffin statue.
Connor ought to be working by now. That common sense didn’t stop Aila’s head swiveling like a mirror flamingo, uncomfortable with the open terrain, alert for an ambush.
Stop it, Aila. A nest full of phoenix eggs gave her plenty to worry about already.
She straightened when Director Rivera appeared at the side entry window, reserved for special zoo guests. She wore a maroon business skirt and blazer, dark hair starched into a pony-tail without a strand out of place. Self-conscious, Aila twirled a curl of auburn hair around her finger, the ends crimped where she’d held the heat on too long. Luciana did such a better job.
“Aila!” The director crossed the plaza with a smile. “So good to see you again!”
“You too, Director Rivera. Welcome back to the zoo.”
Aila offered her hand. Rivera shook it, then came in for a hug that made Aila’s brain short-circuit. The email pleasantries, she could write off as casual office fluff. But a hug? For someone who hadn’t even hatched a phoenix egg yet?
A swell of warmth hit Aila’s chest.
“Excellent. Shall we… um…” Aila cleared her throat. “Take a look at the nest?”
“Please.” Her guest beamed.
As they walked to the aviaries, Aila kept alert for any Connors hiding behind vending machines or cycad trees. When that hazard failed to appear, she cut side glances at the visiting dignitary. Most big donors and board members focused on themselves when they visited, chatty parrots in suits and pencil skirts.
Director Rivera clacked her heels with the same confidence, folded her hands behind her back in that way that suggested she had her shit fully together. Yet her eyes darted over every patron they passed. She peered into every exhibit, from the gilded swans honking on the lagoon, to the yellow-finned caimans lounging by their pools. The caiman keeper was giving a talk to a group of patrons, explaining how the creatures wore gold dust to attract mates, demonstrating how the scales were magically magnetic to gold but no other metals (yellow-finned caimans were common shop pets in jewelry stores to demonstrate quality wares, and absolutely essential to most pawn shops).
“You used to be a phoenix keeper here?” Aila asked. “Before the breeding hiatus?”
“I was!” Rivera’s smile crinkled lines around her eyes. “That was… oh my, some fifteen years ago? I miss it some days, working hands-on with the animals.”
Aila couldn’t imagine leaving them behind. “Why’d you leave, then? Not that I’m complaining! I appreciate having the job, and all.”
The director laughed. “I can assure you, scrubbing aviaries is kinder to young knees.” She patted her leg, a stiffness to her gait. “Moving on to administration is a normal part of professional growth. At this rate? I’m sure you’ll be on to bigger things before too long.”
Aila’s nose wrinkled. “I like what I do now.” The polite way of saying she couldn’t imagine doing anything else, much less—she shuddered— administration .
“Of course you enjoy what you do.” Rivera turned tender, the tone Aila’s mother had used when her child brought home crayon drawings of phoenixes from school. “I expect you’ll do much more excellent work here in San Tamculo. But who’s going to be the next Aila? One of our most important jobs is making way for the next generation. And we need keeper experience at IMWS, people who know the animals best because they’ve worked with them.”
Aila wasn’t prepared for this dilemma. She’d dreamed about breeding phoenixes since she was eight years old. What came after that? A second nest. Then a few more. Moving farther into the future, things turned fuzzy.
Their arrival at the phoenix complex rescued Aila from her existential crisis. Director Rivera walked to the observation window, giving Aila time to pile binders in her arms, then spread them along the counter.
“All right. Here we’ve got”—Aila pointed to each item—“egg measurement data. Nest temperatures and exhibit climate. Diet supplements. Lay date probability scenarios.”
The director nodded without looking at the paperwork. She leaned toward the window, craning to see Rubra on her nest platform, Carmesi preening beside her. “How is Rubra handling the incubation?”
“Um…” Aila flipped open another binder and dragged a finger down a table. “Her weight has gone down a little, but still in a healthy range. Appetite is fine.”
“She and Carmesi are getting along well?”
“I don’t… have any data on that. But we’ve kept up our behavioral monitoring shifts. And we’ve recorded the expected pairing behaviors.”
“And the eggs. Gorgeous, aren’t they?”
“The measurements fall within healthy parameters for lay weight and length—”
“Aila, relax.” Rivera laid a hand on her shoulder. Smiled. “This isn’t an inspection.”
“Excuse me?”
Why else would an IMWS director pop in for a surprise visit, if not to check on their prized investment? To make sure Aila wasn’t screwing things up? The email had kept her awake most of the night, running through lists of whether her protocol binders were up to date, how their egg measurements compared with program standards.
“You’ve done an exceptional job with the phoenixes already,” Rivera said. “Getting them to breed within the first year ? Skies and seas, we have established programs that would struggle to achieve such a feat after a transfer. The Renkailan program has been trying for years without success. Such unpredictable birds, you know.”
Another test. It had to be.
“Sure,” Aila said. “But I’ve still got to get the eggs to hatch. And take care of the chicks after that. I know there’s a lot of work left, but I’ll do my best to prove you were right to choose San Tamculo for the transfer.”
That they were right to choose Aila.
She didn’t expect the director’s eyes to widen.
“Aila, we’re already pleased with our decision to transfer Carmesi here. You’ve more than proven yourself up to the challenge. Why, just earlier this week at our regional conference? Director Garumano was talking about the nest with such enthusiasm, I could have sworn his mustache would fall off.”
“But—”
“We’re here to support you, Aila. It’s a difficult transition, seeing administrators as anything other than boogeymen. Skies know I went through that struggle, when I first stepped into the program. But please, think of us as colleagues. We’re all working for the phoenixes.”
Aila’s thoughts went blank. A power outage. A swift reset back to factory standards.
Colleagues. A couple years ago, Aila could barely work up the courage to speak to Director Rivera.
To Maria .
Now here they stood, on even linoleum, a pair of phoenix nerds admiring their birds.
“Was it hard,” Aila asked, quieter than intended, “shutting down the program?”
Director Rivera had moved on to IMWS just four years before the last successful phoenix nest at San Tamculo. She’d been part of the committee that transferred Rubra when the previous pair passed away of old age. She’d denied the male transfer request.
“The hardest decision I’ve ever made,” Maria said, equally soft. “Impossible, it seemed. Rubra, we pushed through easy enough, couldn’t let an exhibit go to waste. But when the male transfer application came in, I agonized over it for a month, ran every genetic pairing, evaluated every active breeding program. San Tamculo simply wasn’t the best fit.” She took in a long breath, hands folded in that mostly composed way at her waist. “Sometimes, we have to make those hard decisions, the ones that are best for the birds.”
Maria turned to Aila, the somber notes vanishing as she donned her warmest smile yet. “I’m delighted to see a healthy phoenix pair back at San Tamculo. And even more delighted to see them under the care of such a compassionate keeper.”
That fleck of warmth crept back into Aila’s chest. It couldn’t be… pride? Proud of her birds. Proud of her work.
Proud of her people.
“I couldn’t have done it alone. Tanya, the Bix phoenix keeper? She’s been with me every step of the way. Luciana’s been a goddess on the publicity front. So many other keepers pitched in to get the breeding complex renovated.”
“Of course.” Maria beamed. “Teams always make us the most successful, all our different talents applied to the same goal. I’m so glad you’re building a strong team here. Hopefully, that will mean many more successes to come.”
Aila joined Maria at the observation window. Morning sun slanted through the aviary, casting dappled shadows through olive leaves.
“You came here just to see them?” Aila asked.
Maria smiled wider. Her eyes never left the phoenixes. “They’re incredible, aren’t they?”
United in that sentiment, Aila relaxed (apart from the buzz of caffeine). “What was the exhibit like, when you worked here?”
“Less vibrant.” Maria smirked at the orange walls. “Though I’d call this an improvement. My phoenixes were Carnella and Pyrio. Beautiful birds. When I let them out in the morning, Carnella would hang upside down from her favorite branch and make this delightful trill…”
Aila fell quiet, content to listen to Maria’s stories. With this much passion? Maybe hers wasn’t a bad path to follow—administration and all. Aila could get a few successful breeding seasons under her belt. Publish some husbandry studies. Maybe even get involved with the IMWS effort to reintroduce phoenixes to their native range.
That was years down the line. For now, Aila enjoyed her birds and the company of a colleague who understood how special they were.
By the time Aila returned Maria to the zoo exit—and survived a goodbye hug that sent her pride rocketing—her stomach snarled for lunch. Even more so, when she returned to the phoenix complex and smelled fried food.
“That you, Ailes?” Tanya’s head poked in from the patio.
“Nope. I’m a merlion in disguise.” Aila waggled her arms like flippers.
“Ha! Sassy Aila’s back. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“It better be waffle fries, because I’m—”
Aila yelped as the patio door flew open. Her mother attacked in a bolt of red hair and cinnamon-laced cardigan, wrapping Aila into a hug. She hadn’t expected a family visit, her crushed ribs unprepared for the assault.
“Hi, Mom,” Aila greeted through smushed cheeks. “Didn’t know you’d be stopping by today. Is everything all right?”
“O’ course!” her mother returned in a sing-song cadence. “Since when do I be needing an excuse to pop in on my favorite daughter?”
“I’m your only daughter. And I… can’t… breathe.”
From the doorway, Tanya chuckled. “I got waffle fries, too.”
Parental visits to the zoo weren’t uncommon, particularly when new food items arrived at the restaurants, or baby animals in the exhibits. To show up unannounced (and without scheduling into Aila’s social obligations calendar at least one week in advance) rang suspicious. Betrayed by her rumbling stomach, Aila let it slide. They returned to the patio, where she plopped down at the table behind a plate of waffle fries piled high with coleslaw and spicy chicken. Her mouth watered before she had a fork in hand.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Aila’s mother sat beside her. “Me popping in unannounced and all. Tanya called, said my little girl could use a pick-me-up.”
“Oh yeah?” Aila said around a mouth stuffed with chicken. “That’s really sweet, Mom. But my meeting this morning went better than expected! Director Rivera—Maria, I think I’m allowed to use her first name now, so weird—anyway, she loved seeing the phoenixes. And she’s super cool! Can you believe they used to let kids roast marshmallows over phoenix tails during summer camp?”
“Did they? What a right treat! So glad you two are getting along.”
“But we’re here”—Tanya skewered a forkful of fries—“for the bigger thing.”
Aila paused, food halfway to her mouth. “Bigger?”
A trap. She knew it.
Her mother laid a hand on her arm. “Break-ups are hard, sweetie. But we’re here for you, whatever you need.”
Even waffle fries couldn’t stave off cruel reality. Aila wilted, her temporary high from Maria’s visit replaced by that knot in her stomach when she thought of Connor, the guilt she felt for leading him on.
“I appreciate it.” She poked her food. “But could we… maybe… not talk about that?”
Her mother shared a long look with Tanya. “Of course, sweetie. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We just worry. You tend to keep things to yourself.”
Harsh, but true. Aila’s tears belonged in the safety of her apartment, a pact between her and her ice cream cartons.
“I know I do. And I agree, break-ups suck . But…” Aila took another bite of chicken. “I think I did the right thing. I had to stand up for myself.”
Hello, confidence, where did you come from? The entire situation sucked, and Aila was nowhere close to finishing her current anxiety spiral, but the surety of her words surprised her. Tanya and her mother looked on with raised eyebrows, smiles that drew the warmth back into Aila’s chest.
“It’s so good to hear you say that,” her mother said. “It’s not easy to do what’s best for ourselves. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Aila dropped her eyes to the table, fidgety beneath the gooey attention.
“And you look lovely as well.” Her mother ran a hand through Aila’s curls. “You did your hair?”
“Oh. Yeah. You like it?”
“I love it!”
Aila blushed. “Luciana taught me.”
Tanya’s squint threatened to turn Aila redder than her spicy chicken.
“Luciana?” Her mother frowned. “Where have I heard that name?”
“She’s one of the keepers here. At the griffin show.” Horns and fangs, Aila talked too fast. Tanya kept staring, as if scrutinizing her beneath a microscope. “In fact, while you’re visiting, you should go see the show. It’s really popular.”
“Oh, Luciana!” Her mother snapped her fingers. “That crush of yours from college?”
Aila prayed for a meteor to strike her down. Perhaps an errant tree branch to sweep her off the patio. Of course she’d been dumb enough to admit to a crush back then. The doubt and inferiority, she’d kept closer to her chest.
“Yeah. Her.” Aila stuffed a waffle fry into her mouth. “But, you know…” Another. “That was a long time ago.”
“Oh?” Her mother’s voice lilted. “I don’t hear you mention many colleagues other than Tanya. You enjoy working with her?”
Deny. Flee. These were Aila’s defense mechanisms.
But what had that ever gotten her? Maybe it was the boost of confidence from Maria’s visit. Maybe it was the nervous adrenaline of cutting ties with Connor. Maybe Aila had lost her mind.
“Well, I… might still have a little crush on her. I think.”
The world came to a standstill. What. Had. Aila. Just. Said? Out loud , of all things? To speak something so blunt and vulnerable into existence left a spike of panic in her chest. It felt raw. It felt terrifying.
It felt… freeing.
Tanya shot both fists into the air. “I fucking knew it!” she shouted, loud enough they’d probably get complaints from a couple of parents at the exhibit by the end of the day.
Aila shrank in her chair. Her cheeks burned like phoenix fire. “It’s nothing! Just a dumb crush. Who knows if she even feels the same way? Probably not. No big deal.”
“Oh, Aila.” Her mother beamed, digging dimples into her cheeks. “If it makes you happy, nothing to be ashamed of! Life’s for dreaming big and taking chances.”
“To be fair,” Tanya added, “gorgeous women are a damn scary chance.”
“Gorgeous, is she?” Her mother smirked. “You’ll have to bring her by the stall at the Pepper Festival in a couple weeks. I’m sure your pa would be beside himself to meet her.”
“Yeah, Aila.” Tanya’s grin was wicked. “I’m sure your parents would love to meet her.”
Curse them both. While Tanya and her mother gossiped about dating prospects, Aila crumpled in her chair and skewered more food, attempting to bury her blush behind waffle fries.
“So?” Her mother leaned in. “Are you gonna tell her how you feel?”
A dream. A nightmare. The mere prospect threatened to split Aila’s stomach open with butterflies, jittering her fingers, until she could barely—
Breathe.
One deep breath, and with it, a calming memory of mango shampoo. Of dark eyes glinting in sunlight, until there was nothing else left in the world.
“I… guess I’ll have to,” Aila said.