Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Aila peeked around a corner.
The path to the aviaries lay quiet. In the height of the Movasi summer, the sun-baked walkways held their warmth well past sunset, heat radiating against her boots. An army of crickets serenaded from plant beds and underneath vending machines. This could have been a normal night: her staying late after work, a tranquil zoo that seemed hers alone.
It wasn’t.
Somewhere down the dark and twisting paths, two phoenix thieves still lurked, hunting Aila and her chicks. So far, her plan to run distraction had worked out better than anticipated (barring, of course, nearly being shot and/or eaten by a kelpie). But what about Luciana? Had she escaped while Aila kept their assailants busy?
The answer came faster than Aila wanted: a shout from across the zoo.
Aila ran. She should have stayed stealthy, should have kept her eyes keen for Connor or his remaining accomplice, but all that sensible nonsense fled when she heard that shout. Luciana’s shout, the velvet timbre unmistakable even at a distance. As Aila ran, yelling sounded ahead. A door banged.
The commotion led her into the Renkailan section. At that, Aila’s panic fizzled like over-shaken soda. Luciana was supposed to get out, get help. Sure, their brief farewell hadn’t been enough time to say all those directions, but Aila thought the specifics had been implied. Why, then, had Luciana run in this direction, away from the zoo’s staff gate?
She must be in trouble. Someone must have spotted her.
Aila kept running.
Ahead, the monolith of the griffin show amphitheater loomed, shadows deep in the concrete alcoves and twisting vines. Fitting. Aila had sought safety on the familiar ground of a carnivorous horse lair. It stood to reason Luciana would flee here under duress, her kingdom of barns and show corridors. Hopefully, familiarity would give her an edge against pursuers.
Aila, on the other hand…
She sprinted around a corner and slammed into Connor.
Rancid. Dragon. Spit.
Aila yelped as he grabbed her. The smell of pine turned sickly. Toned arms became a thing of ire. For all the times she’d caught him lurking around corners, she’d never appraised it as an actual skill, much less one that would spell her doom. While she flailed and cursed, Connor lifted her by the waist, leaving her legs kicking air.
“Give it a rest, Aila! You’ve caused enough trouble already.”
Still annoyed. Still condescending. As if all she could ever be was a bumbling idiot.
Aila twisted in his arms and bit him.
As Connor shouted, she lurched from his grip and hit the ground running. To where? Another circuit of the zoo, hoping he’d follow? Behind the stage to find another place to hide?
Her ears perked at a distant rumble. A beat of wings.
Please let that be real, not a figment of her adrenaline-rattled brain.
Aila’s boots thudded concrete. Next came grass, the squishy lawn of the griffin show. In a last push, she sprinted into the open, boxed in by the empty maw of amphitheater seats and the curve of the stage. She hadn’t covered half the distance before Connor tackled her. They tumbled to the grass, wet against Aila’s knees, stinging her scraped palms.
She kicked, but Connor dropped his weight on top of her, pinning Aila to the ground.
“Where are the chicks?” he demanded.
Aila spit toward his face. Not the best angle. Half of the mucous glob ended up on her cheek, the other half sprawled across grass.
“They’re just birds, Aila! How are they worth all this?”
“Just… birds? Just birds? ”
Of all the things he’d said—all the veiled boredom and passive insults—nothing had ever struck such rage into Aila’s chest. Let Connor insult her. Let him complain about her talking too much, or her unhealthy work habits, or her inability to appreciate snobby restaurants.
Not her birds. Never her birds.
“They’re my phoenixes,” Aila sputtered, spitting out grass that lodged in her teeth. “You’re not taking them!”
Connor’s weight shifted atop her, a stupid slump to accompany that stupid sigh. “Fine. You want more incentive? I’ll cut you in on the deal. Ten percent market cost per bird. You hand them over, I make you fucking rich, then we never have to speak of this again.”
“ Are you out of your mind? ”
“Ten percent is more than generous, Aila.”
That was it. That was the moment Aila truly understood how, despite faking smiles and pretending to be her friend, Connor hadn’t bothered to learn a single thing about her. Shouldn’t that have made her sad? Defeated? Like she ought to curl up and never risk dangling her heart on a string again?
No.
Aila wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She wouldn’t give him that power over her when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
“You think this is all about money? You slimy piece of dragon shit. Those phoenixes are priceless! I will never tell you where they are. You’ll have to turn this entire zoo upside down, and even then, good fucking luck.”
Connor twisted Aila’s arm, a sharp pain at the joint. She bit back a whimper.
“You’re in no spot to negotiate, Aila.”
Fair. An understatement, even. Aila was nothing but pasty limbs and weaponized awkwardness, though neither seemed an advantage in this situation. No matter how she wriggled, Connor’s weight kept her pinned.
Fortunately, Aila only had to play the warm-up act.
Connor flinched when a defrosted mouse splatted his cheek, the fur still wet enough to stick to his skin. He grimaced and peeled it off.
“The fuck is this?”
His only warning was a wingbeat. A flash of gemstone green and blue feathers.
A gust of air buffeted Aila as a peacock griffin toppled Connor off her. Ranbir pinned his target to the grass beneath dull talons, dark eyes wide in focus, wings splayed and tail iridescent even without the glare of amphitheater lights.
Upon his back perched Luciana.
An icon. A queen upon her throne, never one to miss a cue. She sat behind the griffin’s wings, hands wreathed in feathers, a mane of black curls having broken free of their tail to drape her shoulders. The glare she leveled at Connor could have knocked the venom out of a basilisk.
He screeched when the griffin’s beak snapped down at him. An ass, to the end. Gentle as a kitten, Ranbir gobbled the mouse off Connor, then pecked every inch of him, searching for additional treats beneath his shirt, armpits, within the messed coif of his hair.
“Get this thing off me!” Connor shouted.
Luciana dismounted, humoring Connor with the brush of a scowl.
“Aila! Are you all right?”
She rushed to help Aila to her feet. Beyond grass cuts and a sore shoulder, Aila appeared unscathed. She gripped Luciana by the arms, holding her close, drinking her in.
“That was… incredible ! You rode a peacock griffin?”
Luciana dropped her eyes beneath a veil of lashes, adorably bashful. “I did. The act we’ve been working on, you know.”
“An act? That was amazing! Please tell me you get to tackle a member of the audience in the real show, because that would be memorable .”
“Oh no, that’s just Ranbir. He can get… excited.”
Connor grunted as he ripped himself out of the griffin’s talons. While Ranbir inspected him with a curious head tilt, Connor shifted onto his knees.
“You two and your stupid birds,” he panted. “Who do you think…?”
Luciana reached into a bag at her waist, reeled back her arm, then tossed a second mouse, smacking Connor on the forehead. Ranbir lunged, pinning him with another yelp.
“We’ve got to work on that,” Luciana observed, already digging into her satchel for another mouse. “Unpleasant trait. Useful tonight, though.”
Gorgeous, both of them. Aila cupped Luciana’s cheeks and scoured her from head to toe, searching for any sign of injury.
“Are you OK? I heard yelling!”
“Fine, fine. A little frazzled.” Luciana gave a nervous laugh. “They gave me a run.”
She wasn’t hurt. That gave Aila full rein to whip out a puppy-dog scowl. “You were supposed to escape!”
“And leave you behind? Don’t be ridiculous!” Ah, that familiar chiding tone.
“I was being resourceful , not ridiculous, thanks. Where’s the last thief?”
“Last I saw, he was—”
A click .
Aila hated that she recognized the sound now.
Douchebag Goatee stood at the edge of the lawn, gun drawn, appraising Connor’s struggle beneath a peacock griffin. He pointed his weapon at Luciana. Unless another secret griffin waited in the wings, this appeared to be a problem.
“Call that thing off him,” the thief ordered.
“Took you long enough!” Connor spat. “Just shoot the damn thing!”
“Don’t you dare!” Luciana stepped in front of Ranbir, one hand digging into her satchel. The only person Aila knew who’d take on an armed intruder with nothing more than defrosted mice, but damn if that wasn’t attractive. Attractive, yet in this moment, terrifying.
Unamused, the thief cocked his gun.
Several more clicked behind him.
An unexpected sound. And puzzling. The thief looked equally baffled as he glanced over his shoulder.
Boots thudded into the amphitheater. A flash of lights and radio chatter. Aila blinked, not trusting her eyes: a squad of five dressed in dark blue San Tamculo PD uniforms, badges glinting silver, guns trained on the intruder.
“Police! Put the gun on the ground! Hands above your head!”
Aila’s heart skipped, unable to comprehend. Unable to believe. She and Luciana hung back with wide eyes as the officers advanced. When the cursing thief dropped his gun to the grass and raised his hands, two policemen restrained him. Another pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
Three thieves down.
None left.
Aila’s relief threatened to melt her onto the lawn.
“The police!” She snagged Luciana’s arm, words dripping disbelief, hands trembling with adrenaline. It was over. Help at last meant this nightmare was over . “Luciana, the police are here ! Who called the police?”
She tilted up an expectant look, anticipating another miracle by this woman.
Luciana shook her head. “I tried. The signal’s still out.”
“Then who—”
“ Aila! ”
The voice sent a jolt through Aila’s spine, tears into her eyes. With the thief subdued, Tanya burst through the line of police officers, batting aside their protests as she sprinted to Aila and lifted her into a giant, leg-swinging hug. Aila clasped her friend’s shoulders, already sobbing into her neck.
“Tanya!” She sniffed, horrendous. Tanya had seen worse. “What are you doing here?”
“You sounded like you were in trouble!” Tanya said with a click of her tongue.
“So you called the police ?”
“Girlie.” Tanya took Aila’s cheeks in firm hands. “Aren’t I always telling you the importance of trusting your instincts?”
Aila could have crumpled. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too, Ailes.”
Their teary reunion was cut short as the police circled them, guns holstered, some curious looks at the dead mouse Luciana still brandished like a weapon.
“Good evening, ladies,” one of the officers greeted. “We received a report of a disturbance?”
“He’s trying to steal the Silimalo phoenixes!” Aila shouted too fast, pointing to the Goatee Douchebag glaring up from the lawn.
“He’s working with them.” Luciana pointed behind them, where Connor languished beneath a frisky peacock griffin.
“There’s a third one!” Aila said. “Trapped in the kelpie exhibit!”
“Trapped in the… where ?” Luciana shot her a startled look.
“It’s OK. Maisie didn’t eat him. I mean, she might have, but she seemed about as confused about it as I was.”
“All right, all right.” The flustered officer made a calming hand gesture. “We’ll take care of all that right away. You’re fortunate no one was hurt. Once you’ve had a chance to settle down, we’ll need a statement from each of you about what happened.”
Aila was already racing out of the amphitheater.
“Right, right!” she called back. “Statement, sure. We’ll tell you everything. Just let me take care of something real fast!”
A few shouts at her back entreated her to wait. Nothing could stop her.
She ran all the way to the Bix phoenix exhibit. With cramping legs, rasping breath, she pushed through the door and scrambled up the embankment. Papyrus reeds snagged her hair. Mud squelched beneath her nails. At the hole, she heaved her shoulder against the metal grate and pushed it as far as it would go.
Khonsu greeted her with a croak. He hadn’t moved from his roost in the back of the hole, his cheeks puffed in annoyance at having been disturbed a second time in one night.
His breast feathers ruffled. A peep sounded within the down, followed by the poke of a tiny, wobbling head. Aila dug her hands into the pocket of warmth, ignoring Khonsu’s protests as she plucked the young phoenixes out from under him. As the full clutch nestled in her arms, their smoldering feathers singed her skin. She didn’t care.
Aila laughed, the sound dancing through the aviary.
The door slammed open a second time. At the base of the hill stood a worried Tanya and Luciana, flanked by two bewildered police officers.
“Aila!” Luciana called up. “How are they?”
“Fine!” Aila called back, tears of joy in her eyes as she stroked the hot down of her baby phoenixes. “They’re all fine.”