Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With summer came the excitement of breeding birds, but also Aila’s favorite holiday: the Movas Pepper Festival.
This was not to say Aila had the best (or any) genetic tolerance for peppers, but the pain was exhilarating. After sunset, the zoo reopened for a special night of chili-themed food and crafts. The catering department went all out: churros in chili jam, stuffed jalape?os shaped like diamondback dragons with bacon wings, cayenne-chocolate phoenix cake pops, volcanic salamander sundaes, kelpie bog punch spiked with something fruity that made Aila’s head spin if she indulged in more than a cup.
Beyond the zoo’s offerings, local restaurants set up stalls with their own concoctions. A fixture among them: the Macbhairan Pub and Tequileria, returning every year to serve classic chile relleno, plus a fusion cheesy scalloped potato relleno that generated a confused buzz, if nothing else.
Aila’s mother stayed at the restaurant to oversee dinner service. Her father lugged a grill to their zoo stall, towering behind the counter, frizzy red hair and beard wrangled within a comical number of sanitary nets, wearing the phoenix-print apron Aila bought him for his last birthday (at perhaps a size too small). He’d decorated his stall with a canopy of paper phoenix feathers. A papier maché bird perched on the cash register, tail feathers catching in the drawer every time it opened.
“What do you think?” he asked Aila. “I made it myself!”
She leaned on the counter, struggling to take it all in. “ You made it? Since when do you do papier maché?”
“Worked on it all week! My little girl and her phoenixes are famous now. Had to do something to show off!”
He beamed down at Aila the way he always had, as if she were the brightest ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Her chest warmed, not just because of the spicy potato on her plate. From the register, a lumpy phoenix stared her down with uneven eyes.
“It’s great, Dad. Some of your best work.”
While he preened, Tanya shoveled a mouthful of her chile relleno. Her eyes widened as she clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Skies and seas,” she said around the food. “What are you stuffing this with?”
Aila’s father returned a wicked grin. “Dragon tongue peppers. Got a nice kick, eh?”
“ Horrendous .” Tanya downed another bite. “You mind setting aside a plate? Teddy would be devastated if he missed this.”
Teddy had messaged their group chat that he was running late, bemoaning a rather difficult phantom cat dropped off at the Humane Society right at closing, threatening both Tanya and Aila with cold shoulders if he missed out on any good food because of it.
Aila nibbled her meal, relishing the spice on her tongue, for once enjoying the hum of the busy zoo. The festivities were centered in the zoo’s main food plaza, lively guitar music playing from the speakers, the Movasi-style stucco facades strung with little red chili lights and wreaths of fragrant sage. Patrons shifted from stall to stall, children clambering for a ride on the conservation carousel. Many wore handmade masks of zoo animals, manufactured at a glitter-strewn craft table. Another group gathered around one of the griffin show keepers, who’d brought their thunderhawk out for a public demonstration. The bird perched on a sturdy cart, eyeing small children like potential meals.
A hot summer breeze tousled Aila’s hair.
Scents of grilled peppers, sugary confections, enough to spend all the night eating.
When the griffin show keeper caught Aila’s eye, she waved. Timid, Aila waved back.
“Who you waving to?” her father asked, craning over the counter to inspect the crowd.
Aila shoved him back with ineffective stick arms. “Just some work friends.”
“ Friends? ” Her father’s face lit up. “Call them over! I’ll give them a discount!”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal? I’ve never seen you out of your exhibit longer than ten minutes!”
“ Dad! ”
Aila looked to Tanya for backup.
“He isn’t wrong.” Tanya shrugged. “I’m surprised you haven’t snagged food and run off hiding behind a bush by now.”
Aila huffed at the assault. Sure, she hadn’t made many friends growing up (zero friends, if she discounted animals). And sure, seeing her dad smile so wide left a fuzzy feeling in her ribs. No reason to make a public spectacle of it.
That was the least of Aila’s worries. Her heart stuttered at the sight of sable hair emerging from the crowd. Smokey eyes with crimson shadow. A quirk of ruby lips.
Was it hot tonight? Or just the chilis making Aila sweat?
“Scalloped potato relleno?” Luciana approached the stall, brow cocked at the chalkboard menu. Like Aila and the other keepers, she still wore her zoo uniform. The night turned her hair to ink, loose curls glistening beneath string lights tacked along the canopy.
Aila’s favorite festival. Without question.
“That’s right!” Aila’s father said, a couple of decibels too loud. “A Macbhairan family creation. You’ve never tasted anything like it.”
Both her parents had more extrovert energy in one breath than Aila could muster in a month. She shrank at the counter. “Oh, hey, Dad? I don’t think you’ve met. This is Luciana, our PR Director for the phoenix program.”
Her father’s eyes widened at the name. Aila cursed herself for telling any of these betrayers her secret.
“Luciana, you say?” He shared a look with Tanya that made Aila want to shrivel into dust. “Food’s on the house for any friend of Aila’s!”
“That’s very kind,” Luciana said, “but you don’t need to—”
He shoved a plate of potato relleno into her hands before she could say no. Had to be faster than that in the Macbhairan household. True to form, Luciana accepted with a gracious smile and dug a fork into the cheesy concoction.
She took a bite with perfect, aching poise, the daintiest flick of her tongue to clean the fork. When Aila stared too long, Tanya shot her two scandalous brows. Aila heeled her foot.
“That’s fierce .” Luciana’s brow furrowed. “Dragon tongue peppers?”
“The lady knows her spice!” Aila’s father clapped an approving hand on the counter. “You like it?”
“You have any hot sauce?”
“Good woman!”
Aila’s father offered a bottle of homemade hot sauce. Luciana poured it over her food, then took another bite, relishing the heat that would have burnt Aila to a crisp.
She was burning up already. Tanya’s egging looks weren’t helping.
“Got your email, Tanya,” Luciana said around another dainty mouthful. “Count griffin show in for your volunteer pilot. We could always use some extra hands.”
“You’re a peach, Luc,” Tanya returned, smirking ever wider. “A real asset to the zoo. To all of us, really.”
“Happy to help.” Luciana wiped her fingers clean with a napkin, leaving every crimson nail flawless. She turned to Aila. “Ready for the demonstration?”
Skies and seas, Aila better be. Too many people around for her to melt in public.
After finishing their food, Aila and Luciana hiked to the phoenix complex. The paths beyond the festival plaza were quiet, scents of chilis replaced by mango on the night breeze.
Rubra stayed snug on her nest, but at Aila’s whistle, Carmesi landed on her glove, greeting his humans with a cluck. Luciana led them out. Aila matched her in stride and, she hoped, borrowed confidence. Couldn’t wimp out now. Especially since this was her idea. The proposal bowled Luciana over when Aila suggested it, paired with every “ are you sure, Aila? ” under the sun. The challenge made her all the more determined to see it through.
They returned to the plaza.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Luciana announced. “Thank you for joining us at the zoo this beautiful evening. We have a special guest tonight who’d love to say hello.”
At Luciana’s signal, Aila raised her fist with Carmesi. The crowd turned. Gasped. A wave of patrons surged for a closer look, but Luciana’s griffin show colleagues were ready, spread out to maintain a safe buffer.
A chill raked through Aila as dozens of eyes latched onto her. Her throat turned dry. Her legs wavered.
But she kept standing—just like during the interview. Dozens of eyes weighed her down, but brightest of all, her father leaning out of his stall. Her favorite fire bird and her favorite festival, a perfect match. A perfect chance to share her phoenixes beyond their aviary.
“Our male Silimalo phoenix, Carmesi.” Luciana’s voice soared above the plaza, even without a microphone. “Don’t worry, his partner is taking good care of their eggs as we speak. Female phoenixes handle all the incubation until they immolate, then Carmesi will take over once the chicks hatch. In the meantime, what better way to spice up tonight’s festivities than with the hottest bird in the zoo?”
Luciana held out her glove.
At the signal, Aila tilted her fist, prompting Carmesi to leap into the air. He flew the gap between them, wings like liquid sunset, tail dripping fire across the pavement. When he alighted on Luciana’s arm, she held him up for the crowd.
The cheers rumbled Aila’s chest, terrifying at first. So many eyes, so many voices, so many cameras trained on every move. Beneath that, a new feeling. She had to dig deep to find it, buried under years of closed exteriors and scurrying into corners. Excitement. Pride. All these people, thrilled to see her phoenix.
Aila wanted to show them how beautiful he was.
She extended her hand. Carmesi pushed off Luciana’s glove, a languid arc back to Aila. When he landed on her fist, warm air beat off his wings, soft against her cheeks. The flame of his tail lit a golden halo on concrete. She’d carried phoenixes in and out of aviaries hundreds of times, but never flown one like this.
Free. Simply for the spectacle of being. The sight took her breath away.
She tilted her arm and sent Carmesi flying again. The crowd swayed with each passing.
“Silimalo phoenixes are one of the most critically endangered species at our zoo,” Luciana said between flights. “Once, you could see these beautiful birds throughout the western Sili-malo coast. Today, no wild birds remain. Breeding programs like ours are crucial to keeping this species alive, and you can help. This month, the Movasi legislature is considering a new law that would place harsher penalties for the sale and possession of protected magical creatures and their products. You can contact your local representative and tell them you support these measures to defend our phoenixes.”
The crowd hung on every word.
So did Aila, a flutter in her belly thanks to more than the beautiful bird on her glove.
She’d always assumed Luciana’s smile was plastered on, an act to coddle praise from the public. Maybe sometimes, it was. But now? Each time Carmesi lit on Luciana’s hand, her smile was a beacon, her eyes engulfed in phoenix light.
After the flight demonstration, Aila brought Carmesi to the edge of the plaza. He sat on her glove with a pleased puff while Luciana stood nearby, curating questions and most of the public’s attention—aside from Aila’s father lumbering by to snap a hundred photos.
“ Dad ,” she hissed.
“Just one more for your mother. Look at you, out in public with your bird!”
“Who’s watching the stall?”
“Tanya, of course!”
“Tanya can’t be trusted with grills, Dad.”
Once Aila’s father ceased his pestering, Luciana took the spotlight. She moved from patron to patron on airy steps, kind and patient with every question, smiles blooming in her wake like flowers following the sun. Aila was happy to step aside, catch her breath while Luciana worked her outreach magic.
Until a little girl pushed to the front of the crowd.
She emerged in messy pigtails, scuffed sneakers, overalls dirty with grass stains and craft table glitter. Tiny hands clasped a handmade mask, red with finger paint and decorated with a beak and feathers.
“Hello, little lady.” Luciana crouched down to her level. “Do you have a question about our phoenix?”
The girl didn’t answer. Her mouth hung open, eyes glittering with reflected flame off Carmesi’s tail. At a nudge from her mother, she inched closer.
“Hi, Miss Keeper?” Her words stumbled with child embarrassment.
The question wasn’t for Luciana. She looked up at Aila.
“Y-yes?” Aila said, slow to catch her tongue. “What’s your question?”
“I was wondering… you know… How can I become a phoenix keeper like you?”
The world around Aila stood still.
A thousand eyes could have been boring into her, but she felt the weight of only two, wide and brown and uncertain. The little girl swiveled with hands twined at her waist, pigtails swinging like pendulums, clattering the phoenix hair ties at each end. She couldn’t be much older than eight.
What would Aila have wanted to hear when she was eight years old? The weight of responsibility threatened to wobble her legs out from under her. Luciana was so much better at this. What if Aila said the wrong thing? In seconds, she flew through a dozen potential replies.
Overthinking. Always overthinking.
Aila looked to Carmesi, regal on her glove. She crouched in front of the girl, lighting her astonished face in phoenix glow.
“You have to care a lot about your animals,” Aila said.
The girl nodded.
“And you have to work hard. Do you like science classes in school?”
“Of course!”
“Good!” Aila matched her enthusiasm, the words coming easier. “A good zookeeper is a good scientist, so learn as much as you can. If you’d like, you can learn even more in college.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “College… for zookeepers ?”
“Sure! Luciana and I both went to zookeeper college. What’s your favorite animal?”
After a moment of staring at her feet, the little girl pointed to Carmesi.
Aila smiled so wide, it hurt. “Hey. That’s my favorite, too.”