by Eve Langlais
“What the fuck was that for?” he snapped. Usually he and his inner beast were in perfect harmony. But on rare occasions when they didn’t see eye-to-eye, his other half could make himself a pest.
Idiot. Shouldn’t have let her go.
I didn’t have a choice.
Fight.
Fight who? ASS? That wouldn’t have gone over well.
His ’roo tried to ram his face off the steering wheel again, but he managed to keep a grip. “Stop it.”
No. You should have fought for her. Told her she’s our mate. Told her—
“I love her. Oh, fuck me, I never said it, did I?” Shown it, yes. Felt it. Yes. Even known it, but when had he ever said anything to her? All this time she assumed he’d helped her because…he was a nice guy helping a lady in distress. He never explained there was something more to it.
Love at first sight.
Instinct.
Fate.
“Bloody hell, you’re right.”
Smugness was his reply.
“I need to go after her. Find her. Tell her I love her. Wings and all. Beg her forgiveness and see if she’ll have me as her mate.”
Finally, his ’roo hopped in approval. He thrust the truck into gear and sped for home, planning what he’d have to do. Mammals weren’t welcome in the aerie unless they got special dispensation. He might have to pull some strings. Or at the very least find some way of communicating with someone on the inside.
He needed to talk to Nev.
Excited about the prospect of making things right, he never noticed the other vehicle that came out of nowhere and slammed into his truck.
17
Nev left, heart dragging more than her feet.
A part of her screamed she should stay and talk to Jeb. She could kind of see how hard it would be to admit what he was.
But, at the same time, she was so mad at him. He’d left her thinking she was an aberration. A monster even.
Didn’t once tell her she wasn’t alone.
For that she hated him. Which was why she’d left.
Boviary had come prepared. The vehicle he drove was some kind of modified Econoline van. The cargo space, which ran the entire length behind the driver’s seat, had a bench running down the middle raised high enough she could perch on it without her wings getting in the way.
The bench was hard, but it helped her to ignore Jeb, standing with a forlorn expression outside the window. Oh, that face. That sad, sad face.
She almost lost her resolve. Almost jumped out of that van to accept his apology. Then she remembered how that story ended. She’d grown up with it.
Her dad used to do that. Look all pitiful and asking for forgiveness. Once he sobered up, that was. Daddy usually meant it, too, until the next time he got wasted.
Words were fickle.
People couldn’t be trusted. Especially liars.
The van lurched into motion, and she kept staring straight ahead, ignoring the man she left behind. The ache in her heart was trepidation at what lay ahead and not because of whom she left behind.
Only once they’d put a few miles behind them did she grasp what she’d done.
Left probable safety with an absolute stranger.
Who also had wings.
A man she knew nothing about.
She stared at the back of Boviary’s head.
What have I done?
“Where are we going?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“To the aerie.”
Which didn’t mean diddly-squat to her. “What is the aerie?”
He never took his eyes from the road as he replied. “It’s where all those with wings belong. A secret place, nestled in the heart of New Zealand within a dormant volcano that has long been home to one of the first sentient flocks.”
The word flock threw her but not as much as— “By sentient, you mean…”
“People who learned how to call forth their avian side. Who have evolved to the next level.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to me? Did the Bunyip Institute shove my body into the next stage of human evolution?”
“I am not a scientist who can reply to that.”
Perhaps not, but imagining herself as having transcended to a new level was a much better thought than the one that those scientists had spliced her with mutated DNA.
“It would make sense though. If this is the next stage of human evolution—"
“Not the next one for everyone. Only some people have that kernel of possibility in them. Some more than others. Whereas some end up with a hairier outcome.”
“You’re talking about that bunny and bear and Jeb, aren’t you?”
“The mammalian faction. A populous group given they do internal gestation. Grunting out their young in barbaric fashion.”
She blinked. “How else would they give birth?”
“The truly evolved use the ovi method.”
“Which means?”
“The laying of eggs and the ritual fertilizing them.”
“Eggs as in the kind you crack and eat scrambled with milk and cheese?”
Ever realize you’d said the wrong thing as you said it?
Nev bit her lip.
Boviary stared stiffly ahead. “While the cannibalism of the non-sentient ova is allowed within our laws, it should never be used, even in a joking manner, with another of the avian race. It is considered extremely gauche.”
“F-bomb bad, eh?”
“Worse.”
“Sorry. Just a little freaked out. You keep acting like I’m some kind of bird, and yet, I’m not.”
“Your flavor is unique.”
“Flavor?” A word that really had her second-guessing her choice to get in the van with this man.
“Your scent. Are you truly that clueless?” Boviary met her gaze in the rearview mirror and tsked. “You were told nothing. Not even the most basic thing, which is scent is our version of a fingerprint. Each one is unique.”
“I don’t know if that’s cool or gross.”
“It is what it is. We use smell to identify many things, including what a person is. A true professor of scent can even trace lineage down to a family flock.”
“Would they be able to tell me what I am?” Dove? Raven? She couldn’t think of many birds with her color of plumage.
“They will know what you are.”
Really? Because she wouldn’t mind knowing. “The way you talk, there’s a lot of you guys.”
“Us guys?” He gave the words a note of disdain. “The flock should not be disparaged. Nor should you ever conflate us with those mammals.” He curled his disgust around the last syllable.
“But aren’t you a mammal right now?”
“An unfortunate disguise. One day, when the phoenix rises from the ashes, we shall shed these skins and soar the skies freely as we are meant to.”
“Sounds like you have some kind of Alfred Hitchcock bird manifesto.”
“You’ll learn. In the aerie you will receive an education on the ways of the flock.”
“You’re sending me to school?”
“Given your lack of knowledge, yes.”
“But I already graduated from high school.”
“Human school. You need to learn flock history and biology.”
So long as they didn’t mind if she snickered the first time she saw a man or woman squatting over an egg to keep it warm.
“By the sounds of it, the flock is pretty large. And the, um, other guys—”
“You can call those who are not human cryptids.”
“Er, cryptids seem like they’re all over. So how is it I never heard of this before? I mean except for like the movies and stuff.”
“Because we guard the secret. We’ve been guarding it for centuries. Since mankind truly began evolving. We learned early on that acceptance wasn’t something we could count on. Humans do so love to persecute and kill that which they fear.”
“But you’re taking me to this aerie place, so I
don’t have to worry, right?”
“The aerie itself is hidden. There will be no one to scream about your appearance. Not even the passing satellites can penetrate. It is one of the few places in the world we don’t have to hide our true selves.”
It sounded too good to be true. “Won’t people still look at me weird because I can’t hide my wings?”
He shot her a brief glance. “While a partial shift is not common, it does happen. People caught in mid morph, unable to fully turn one way or the other. Happens sometimes with adolescents who don’t have full control and with the elderly, especially if dementia sets in.”
“You’re talking of people born like that. I wasn’t. I’m not supposed to be able to shift.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Because the scientists changed me.” The bitter words spilled out.
“Which is why you won’t be in trouble for not reporting to the nearest ASS agency.”
“How could I be in trouble? I never even knew you existed. Ass is supposed to be something you shake. And who was the idiot who called you guys ASS in the first place?”
It didn’t take much to offend Boviary. He stiffened. “While the acronym is only recent, our agency has been around for quite some time. We conduct operations almost daily in the service of the flocks.”
“Am I one of those operations?”
“You are.”
“How did your agency know about me?” How had he found her? She never did ask.
“When the Bunyip Institute was dismantled, all the recovered hard drives were scoured for information. Most of them were wiped. Still, we did get some trace remains of files.”
“Were you able to find out anything about me?”
“Nothing other than what we’ve discussed or I’ve seen. No records remained of the institute test subjects. Even the security videos the cameras taped are gone. Still, we did find one important thing: A signal for a tracking beacon.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It is very common for science labs to tag subjects with electronic location chips. In case they get lost.”
“Or escape,” she muttered. She peered down at herself. “Where is it? If there’s a tracking thing in my body, then I want it out.”
“I’m afraid that could be difficult. The chips are quite tiny and hard to locate once in the body.”
Nev grimaced. “Then how do we stop it from broadcasting?” Because if Boviary found her, then so could someone else.
“You’ll see,” was his cryptic reply. “I think we’re far enough now we can take care of it.”
Far enough from what? Or was that who?
Boviary pulled the van over and parked it. He hopped out and opened the doors in the back. “If you could please join me for a moment.”
He gestured. She slid down the bench and out into the blazing sun. They were in the middle of nowhere. Literally. Just hard-packed dirt with a few scraggly bushes.
“Now what?” she asked. Was this where he suddenly pulled out a cleaver and announced she was dinner? It might scare her enough to lay an egg.
Boviary reached into the van and pulled out a hard-plastic case. “If you’ll follow me away from the van.”
Because God forbid he get blood on it. More certain than ever she was going to die, she lagged behind Boviary as he put some distance between them and the vehicle.
She stopped, her nerves pulled taut. “What are you going to do?”
“We are going to disable—” He’d turned to speak to her and frowned. “What are you doing over there? You need to be closer, or this won’t work.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
Boviary’s mouth pinched. “I am not an animal.”
His look of disgust pulled her closer until she stood beside him, ready to sprint if he suddenly pulled out a gun or a knife.
Kneeling on the hard ground, Boviary opened the case. He peeled back a cloth revealing a bulbous-looking galactic blaster.
“Did you buy that at Toys ‘R’ Us?”
“Hardly. This is a supersonic electromagnetic pulse emulsifier.”
There was only one thing to ask after that mouthful. “Is it going to turn me into a puddle?”
“No, but it will disable the tracker and scramble any electronics within fifteen yards.”
Which explained why they’d moved away from the vehicle.
“Arms out to your side,” he instructed. “Don’t move. This might hurt a bit.” He aimed, and a green light went on as the alien pistol emitted a high-pitched squeal.
Her body didn’t react at first, and she almost relaxed. Then the burning pain hit in her thigh.
18
The cell Jeb woke in was a barren one. Then again, it could have had all kinds of luxuries—a mattress, carpeting, television, fridge—and it wouldn’t have changed the fact he was a prisoner.
What the heck happened? His last recollection was driving back home, moping about how he’d fucked things up with Nev. Then wham.
Someone rammed him. But he’d obviously not been seriously injured because he found himself in a cell. Alive.
Standing from the cot, he stretched his limbs, feeling stiff and a little sore. Not unusual given the accident.
“Hallloooo,” he called out, still hoping he’d been stuck in here by human authorities. However, his reply came in the form of a gurgle from the cell across from him. A lump rose, the coiled serpent growing, its human arms sticking out from its sides. But that was the only humanity left. The eyes were pure viper, yellow and slitted. A forked tongue flicked as it stared at Jeb.
“Du-u-u-de.” He stretched the word. “What happened to you?”
The reply was a hiss.
“Not the talkative type, are you?” he said.
Hiss.
“He can’t talk anymore, and I doubt he even understands,” another voice croaked from farther up.
Jeb approached the bars but hesitated before touching them, remembering the last cell he’d come in contact with.
“Are the bars electrified?”
“Yup. And the place is wired for sleeping gas, too, if things get rowdy. Gotta keep the animals in line.”
“Who are you?” Jeb asked, still straining to see, but the speaker stood just out of sight.
“I am a man who was fooled by a pretty face.” As the voice lost its raspy edge, something about it seemed familiar.
“How long you been in that cage?”
“How long since your attack on the institute?”
“You were there?”
A chuckle rumbled. “I was the one in charge of the evacuation. The one who was too slow, apparently.”
The meaning of the words made him frown. “Am I speaking to Kole?”
“In the fur.”
“But why are you in a cell? I thought you were in charge.”
“I am. Was. However, as I said, circumstances intervened and made it impossible for me to remain in control.”
“What happened?”
“I failed one time too many, and this is my punishment.”
“If you ask me, you deserve more for what you did.”
“You might be right, in which case perhaps this is fitting punishment.”
Hearing a rustle, Jeb peered best as he could in the direction of the voice. It wasn’t a great angle, but enough he could see in the next cell over and across from him. See the fuzzy mammal with a curling mustache and…wings?
“Why the hell would you experiment on yourself?”
“I didn’t.”
Before Jeb could ask who had, he heard the clacking of heels as someone approached. The perfume scent of a woman coasting ahead on the air currents. Not just any woman.
She came to a stop in front of his cell, red lipstick, red dress.
And still with the wild, auburn hair.
Jeb gaped. “Mum?”
19
The aerie was as beautiful as Boviary proclaimed. A city chiseled out of the sides of the volcano, terrac
ed to provide platforms, some holding lush gardens. Others paced with stone and set with comfortable seating. Some had nothing but T-shaped perches. Because not everyone liked to sit on their butts.
This was a place for the birds.
Which, in her past life, she would have mocked. Ogled. Probably cracked a few jokes about nests and birdseed.
Before she would have.
Now, the aerie felt like home. It provided peace and relaxation.
In the aerie, no one looked oddly at Nev. Her wings were considered normal. Heck, her wings were the only reason they allowed her in. Her wings meant immediate acceptance, no matter how she’d gotten them.
She would admit, though, that, despite the fact she had feathers, it took a little getting used to seeing giant birds walking around. She quickly learned not to hum the theme to Sesame Street around them, ask them if they’d seen Snuffleupagus, or do the chicken dance. Not everyone appreciated her sense of comedy. Many were humorless asses. Real asses, not the Avian Soaring Security kind.
The agents who questioned her wanted to know everything. She ended up telling her story a few times. Underwent some tests with doctors. Even had one of their special sniffers out to figure out what bird of a feather she was.
So far, they had no idea.
While her wings made her belong, her lack of a proper flock to call her own made her an outsider. She appreciated the kindness Boviary and the others showed her, bringing her somewhere where she could be safe and free, but she wanted to escape. Not because she didn’t like the aerie, she did. I miss Jeb.
Missed him like she’d never missed anything in her life. Which she didn’t understand.
In the past, she’d always been able to walk away from stuff. Left folks she met with nary a second thought. She didn’t form attachments. Didn’t think she was capable of caring for anyone but herself.
Until him.
Jeb left a hole in her life, one that ached for his smile, that yearned for his laugh, that craved his touch.
Maybe she should have listened to him. Forgiven him. Maybe they could have made things work.