The phoenix keeper, p.38
The Phoenix Keeper, page 38
Aila could have kissed this muddy bitch of a bird.
One by one, she moved the rest of her charges into the hole. Khonsu shifted atop the new occupants, but so long as Aila wasn’t trying to drag him out of his den, he didn’t protest. Luciana watched from the sidelines, silent. Only once Aila finished did she notice her companion’s mouth agape.
“Incredible,” Luciana said. “They’ll be safe here?”
“For a bit. Bix phoenixes run cooler body temperature than Silimalos, but not by much. Nice and toasty.”
Aila hoped. It was all gambles and hope at this point, but Luciana’s proud hand-squeeze offered a boost of confidence. Within his cave, Khonsu croaked, then settled his beak against his back, dozing. With the chicks safe (for now), Aila slung the empty tote over her shoulder and snuck back out of the aviary.
They’d still not seen the phoenix nabbers, but by now, Connor must have made it back to the complex. He must have seen the empty incubators, Aila vanished from her prison. Time pressed her and Luciana faster than before, hurrying toward the staff entry gate.
“Short cut?” Aila suggested, pointing to the World of Birds aviary. They could cut through the exhibit, out the door on the far side. At Luciana’s nod, Aila pulled out her keys, fingers shaking as she slid them into the lock.
Before she could pull the door open, footsteps sounded behind them. Luciana went rigid.
“Shit!” Aila scrambled for the door handle.
Then froze at the sound of a cocking gun.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Aila turned.
Facing her was the barrel of a handgun.
In the movies, the books, true heroines stood tall in times like this. Their moment to shine in the face of adversity, to turn the tables and save the day. Staring down a gun in real life, Aila experienced no such burst of courage. Only dread, released in a quivering breath as she and Luciana raised their hands.
The unlocked aviary door slipped from her grasp. So close to escape.
In the path stood Connor—truly, fuck him—and two conspirators Aila had never seen before, young men in black attire and black gloves. The one pointing a gun at her sported the goatee classic to all douchebags. The shorter had a bald spot he’d attempted to comb over with a coif of wispy hair.
Connor regarded Aila with, of all things, an annoyed expression, that I’m-so-much-better-than-you scrunch to his brow she’d come to recognize too late. His scowl flicked to Luciana.
“Hey, Luc,” Connor greeted, flat. “You working late tonight, too?”
“Don’t fucking call me that. Prick.” Luciana’s voice was a level keel, a manicured tempest of derision. Skies and seas, let Aila borrow a sliver of that confidence.
She fought to keep her wobbling legs from collapsing. And she’d thought crowds were bad. If, somehow, she got out of this scrap in one piece, Aila vowed to never complain about public speaking again.
“Where are the chicks, Aila?” Frustration painted Connor’s words. As if that was anything new.
Aila clamped her mouth shut.
“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” Connor pressed. “If you’d have gone home like you were supposed to, this would be over by now.”
“Sure,” Luciana said. “That’s why you came armed.”
“Y-yeah!” Aila added. Very smooth. “You and your…” She squinted at the unfamiliar men flanking Connor. “Friends?”
“Friends?” Connor frowned. “Associates. They reached out to me with a business proposal, and we found mutual interests. That’s all.”
That was even worse. No camaraderie? No exciting heist montage? All of this, just for the money. Just to rip away Aila’s heart.
Goatee Douchebag brandished his handgun, impatient. “Let’s move this along, please?” The weapon pointed to Aila and Luciana, but his annoyance fell on Connor.
Beside them, Balding Coif tipped back a sleeve to scowl at his watch.
“Yeah, I get it.” Connor eyed the tote bag slung over Aila’s shoulder. “Hand them over.”
Aila clutched the bag. No doubt, Connor thought her grasp a throe of defeat, one last effort to shield her phoenixes with spindly arms. She hugged the bag to her chest, the nest of towels bulky in her embrace. Beyond that, empty. Her chicks dozed in the Bix phoenix exhibit.
A moment of panic, nonetheless.
Connor didn’t realize the bag was empty. He was about to.
As he approached, Aila’s thoughts raced into overdrive, at risk of smoke pouring out her ears. He’d look in the bag. He’d demand where she’d hidden the chicks, a gun pointed at her head. Between those two inevitabilities? A sliver of opportunity. One chance to act.
Connor walked in slow motion. One step. Two. His boots cracked against the pavement, soles sticky with spilled soda.
Oh no. Oh no. What should she do?
He paused in front of her, that curl of hair on his temple so obnoxiously handsome. Eyes slitted. When Aila refused to hand the bag over, he yanked it off her shoulder. As he dug into the towels, her legs jittered with the urge to run.
Scowling, Connor dug deeper into the bag.
He yanked the towels out, spilling them to the concrete. When he tipped the empty bag over, his eyes went wide, the most delicious look on that punchable face.
Well. Ought to go with instinct.
With a shrill battle cry, Aila punched Connor’s stupid nose.
A wet crunch. Two yelps. Connor doubled over, clutching his not-so-handsome-anymore face as blood seeped across his lips. Aila winced at her throbbing hand.
Punching people hurt? Why had no one ever told her?
As Connor staggered and cursed, his accomplices looked on with startled eyes. OK, but honestly? They were that surprised to see Aila put up a fight? She scowled at the insult (and her screaming knuckles).
The gun wavered, drifting sideways as Connor stumbled into its path. Aila grabbed Luciana’s hand and charged them both into the World of Birds aviary.
An excellent plan, if Aila did say so. The cherry on top came from Luciana, who had both the sense of mind and dexterity to smack the door lock closed behind them. Connor slamming into the door at full force was the second most satisfying sound Aila had heard that night, after his face crumpling.
Less satisfying: the jingle of metal as Connor ripped his keys from his belt. Curse this organized zoo and its universal aviary locks. At least Aila had a head start.
She never let go of Luciana’s hand.
The paths inside the aviary curved and intersected like the rest of the zoo, but once again, escape options were limited. Aila led Luciana off the concrete and into the cover of vegetation, wide leaves slicked with moisture from the afternoon misting, soil spongy beneath their boots. Hundreds of times, she’d trekked through the aviary plants—rooting around for Archie’s discarded toys, searching for items stolen from patrons, hiding from those same patrons—enough to know every trunk and slope as well in dark as in daylight.
Fleeing for her life, she had less experience with. Aila channeled her inner phantom cat—skies and seas, what she wouldn’t give for the ability to go incorporeal right now. Adrenaline made the shadows beneath the cecropia trees pool deeper. The vines snagging Aila’s wrists seemed alive with malice. Blinded by dense underbrush, Aila couldn’t see their pursuers.
So she had to listen.
She and Luciana paused beside a knotted fig trunk, clothes damp, shoulders pressed together in the dark. Aila strained to hear anything above her ragged breaths, the blood beating in her ears. Near the aviary entrance, her vanishing ducks quacked in alarm. Closer, the screaming mynas hopped through the canopy, following an intruder.
Aila crouched with Luciana amid the bushes, waiting to see if the interloper would pass. The aviary had two other exits. If they could find an opening, they might slip out unnoticed.
Except the thieves knew their prey were trapped. Near one door, the periwinkle prairie geese joined in irate honking. Toward another, the screaming mynas hollered with the shrieks of a middle-aged man. At the third, a squawk from Archie.
Surrounded.
Aila curled into a ball with her back against the mossy tree trunk. She’d only wanted to play with her phoenixes, only wanted to save an entire species from extinction. Was that so much to ask? Now, she wanted to hide away like she always did. She could cower here in her musky exhibit, wait for someone else to take the stage. Someone better to save the day.
But no one else was coming. Aila’s phoenixes needed her. If this was a do or die moment, she had a long list of life accomplishments she’d hoped to check off.
One of them knelt beside her.
“Hey, Luciana?” Aila whispered.
Luciana shushed her, one finger tapped over crimson lips. All that red and gold makeup since joining the phoenix program. The shades looked gorgeous on her. Most things looked gorgeous on her, but fiery colors matched a fiery personality.
“So, um…” Aila’s heart picked up speed, a hindrance to coherent words. “Would you… want to get dinner some time?”
Luciana gawked. Surprise, anger, joy, all beautiful on that face. Unfair, really.
“Excuse me?” Luciana hissed with such force, Aila imagined the decibels she was being spared, thanks to their current peril. “We’re hiding in a bush from armed intruders trying to steal your phoenixes, and you’re asking me on a date?”
“Yeah, well, you see…” Aila flinched at a rustle of leaves above them. A flutter of wings. Just one of the cinnamon birds, inspecting the kerfuffle. She steeled her nerves and pressed on. “I’m not all that great at this dating thing.”
“Really,” Luciana said, flat. “Skies and seas, I never would have guessed.”
“Usually, I bumble my way into messing things up.”
“Aila, this isn’t the best time to—”
“But I like you. I think I… really like you. I don’t know how we lucked into getting you for the phoenix program, but I’m so happy we did.”
Luciana paused at that. Annoyance twitched her brow, but the expression softened as she squeezed Aila’s hand, grungy with sweat and mud. None of that mattered. Aila focused on the warmth of Luciana’s skin, that sweet of mango.
“So I have to ask,” Aila said. “Usually, I psych myself out. I get terrified of all the things that could go wrong. This time, I want to be different. I want to have the courage to at least ask you on a date, and I figure I better do it now, just in case… I don’t get to ask later.”
In case the worst happened. Aila shuddered to think, but planning for worst contingencies ranked high among her skills. Years of rejection had her bracing for Luciana’s response, the possibility of refusal. Now would be a perfect time for backtracking. What better excuse than dire peril to snuff a budding relationship that was a mistake from the start?
“First of all,” Luciana said with that mix of haughty and annoyed. “How dare you talk like that. Second of all… I’d love to go on a date.”
Aila blinked. “With… me?”
Luciana swatted her. “Who else? About time you asked me. Dork.”
The mynas squawked overhead, moving through the trees as Connor and his conspirators combed the aviary. Aila’s knuckles throbbed, and a growing chill on her ass suggested she’d sat in something moist.
None of that stopped her heart from soaring.
“Once we get out of here,” Aila said. “Once the phoenixes are safe. A proper date? Outside the zoo?”
“Wow. Splurging for me already?” Luciana’s smirk turned Aila to putty. “You have a restaurant in mind? Or would you prefer something quieter?”
“Oh, thank the skies and seas—quiet, please.” Aila could work her way back up to proper social interaction. After tonight, she’d be lucky to pry herself out of blanket cocoons for a month. She chewed her lip, working up the greatest courage yet. “We could… um… relax at my place? I’ve got a carbuncle who gives excellent cuddles. And I make a passable chicken parmesan.”
“The selling points. Incredible.” Luciana pressed a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Sounds perfect. I’ll bring dessert?”
“You’re on.”
In the dark of the aviary, damp with mud and surrounded by doom, Aila kissed Luciana.
Soft lips stirred embers in her belly, a moment of desperation and unshakable calm. She could imagine it, couldn’t she? A night alone with Luciana, drowning in the depthless dark of her eyes. She ran her fingers through the tight roots of Luciana’s ponytail and imagined the curls unbound, falling against her cheeks.
Maybe Luciana would wear a dress. Skies and seas, Aila might perish.
Then Aila’s hand was on her waist, measuring the flawless curve. She could imagine more. Bare skin, hot beneath her fingers. Soft thighs. Soft everything, lulling her into oblivion.
All they had to do was make it through tonight. Aila clung to that promise, willing it to give her courage for her next plan.
“Get out of the zoo,” Aila whispered against Luciana’s mouth. “Get help.”
Luciana frowned. “Right. That’s our plan.”
“Your plan. I’ll make the distraction.”
Aila leapt up and ran before Luciana could grab her.
The hiss of her name through Luciana’s lips struck just as hard.
Brave? Debatable. Foolish? Most likely. As much as Aila wanted to shrivel like a worm in the mud, one of them needed to escape, and the aviary was a trap. If she could drag one of their pursuers away from a door, Luciana could get out. Help might arrive in time to save her phoenix chicks from being tossed in a box and smuggled across the world.
Or freezing in a hole. Hopefully, Khonsu didn’t mind the company.
Three aviary doors to choose from. As the splinters of a plan came together in Aila’s head, she sprinted toward the door where Archie croaked in the canopy. Maybe luck would cut her a break, and she’d run into Connor again. Getting to punch that stupid face a second time wouldn’t be the worst outcome.
Luck was not so kind.
Aila skidded around a curve in the path, boots slick on damp concrete. Ahead of her, Mr. Balding Coif guarded the door. He yanked the gun from his belt and pointed at her.
“Hold it! Hands up!”
Aila froze and did as he said. Not the sharpest plan she’d ever had, but all she needed was a little time. She hoped.
Above her, leaves rustled. Archie called out an inquisitive wheeze.
Balding Coif blinked at her, baffled by the lackluster escape attempt—a little rude, but Aila wasn’t about to call him out on it. He approached on wary steps, gun level with her chest. The shiny metal caught a sliver of moonlight, lighting up like quicksilver in the dark.
Come on, come on, come on…
A squawk was his only warning.
Archie hit his target like a gray bullet. A phantom in the night. A fearless archibird with his beady black eyes locked on one of the biggest, shiniest objects to ever enter his aviary.
Maybe Aila wasn’t out of luck yet.
The gunman cried out, flinching as gray wings beat the air in front of him. Valiant Archie, eyes always too big for his claws, grasped the gun in his feet, then tried to fly off with it. This endeavor failed, owing to the oversight of said object being grasped by an adult man with more weight than an archibird. Thwarted but not defeated, Archie hollered and puffed his crest to full height. Then came the onslaught: pecked fingers, fluttering wings, ear-piercing shrieks. The gunman cursed and swatted at his attacker.
If only Archie was that easy to deter, Aila would have fielded a lot fewer guest complaints over the years.
She seized her opportunity. With the gunman pointing his barrel to the ground as he attempted to rip Archie off his arm, Aila lurched forward. Arm strength, she had none, but raw body weight was enough to shove Balding Coif off balance and tumbling through the vegetation of the adjacent slope.
Archie landed on a branch, a couple of feathers ruffled, but looking more annoyed than harmed. What a good bird. Deserving of all the mango slices and shiny buttons later.
For now, Aila’s exit stood unguarded.
She smashed the lock open and stumbled out of the aviary, making sure to bang the door behind her. The sound echoed through the glass dome, enough to alert the other thieves that she was on the move. Escaping. Better run after her, and don’t spare any mind for the hot griffin keeper who was, hopefully, hidden away until her opportunity came.
The crash of bushes and curses behind Aila told her at least one of her assailants took the bait. She glanced back to see Balding Coif lurching out of the aviary several paces behind her. Aila set her boots to the concrete and sprinted.
Escape, she wasn’t sure of. Her goal was to lead him away.
Past the smoothie shack and its judgmental mannequin parrots. Over a bed of ornamental shrubs. Through the junction to the kelpie exhibit. Aila steered the other direction, circling around the World of Birds aviary, hoping to loop her pursuer along for as long as possible. She could branch sideways at the dragon aviaries, or take a detour into the Renkailan section.
Instead, a figure charged into the path ahead, gun in hand. Douchebag Goatee. He spotted Aila and set toward her at a sprint.
She yelped and backtracked down the kelpie path.
Not good. Not good. Balding Coif was still somewhere behind her, and now Douchebag Goatee was closing fast from the other side. Boxed in. If Connor caught her from a third direction, she’d have nowhere to go.
Aila already had nowhere to go, the beat of footsteps closing too fast behind her.
“Stop running!” he shouted.
Aila might have to. Her meager muscles weren’t made for cardio. Huffing and exhausted, desperation drove her to a tight turn off the path and into the closest shelter.
The kelpie exhibit.
In the moment, the safety of the keeper corridors seemed irresistible. Aila had always been able to hide from the world here, her personal sanctuary. Not until the door shut did she realize her mistake.
Ahead of her, the corridor branched on one side into the kitchen, the other leading downstairs to the kelpie tank. Only one way in or out.
