by Tamar Sloan
4
Eden
Reaching the T-intersection that will take me home, I pause for a second. The indicator clicks out the passing seconds. Now that I’m away from Noah, distance muting our connection, I think of Adam and what he said. Adam is a wonderful man. A committed father and husband. A strong Alpha.
But he knows what I won’t say, what Noah seems to be ignoring. He knows there is a ticking time bomb hanging over my relationship with his first-born son. I press my hands to my temples, watching the unmoving odometer needle, the indicator flashing siren orange, trying to pretend old insecurities aren’t starting to gain strength again. For some reason, I feel like a counter’s just been tripped.
I return my hands to the steering wheel—I’m not ready to go home. With a flick, I change the indicator and turn right. I need to be somewhere I belong.
The Soshoni Vet Centre rests on the south edge of town. A squat brick building perched in front of concrete kennels and chain link pens. I park the car in my usual spot, shaded beneath an aspen tree, and head for the door.
Emily, the vet who hired me for a part-time job within weeks of starting my voluntary placement, doesn’t look surprised to see me, despite it not being my usual day. Thursdays are usually spent with Noah. Studying, hiking the moment there is a hint of warmth, or on the couch at my place, all whispery laughs and breathless kisses. But I’ve stopped off before, on days I’m bored or overflowing with physics equations or needing an animal fix.
“Three times a day, Mrs. Penrith, and Fifi should be back to nipping Norman in no time.”
I smile at the elderly lady who pushes her Pomeranian in a pram. Fifi sits proudly in the seat, golden fur puffed out like a caramel marshmallow. Poor Norman doesn’t stand a chance.
Emily, brown hair in its perpetual ponytail, still looking tanned after a snowbound winter, practically hugs me with her smile. “This is a nice surprise. Isn’t this your day with Noah?”
I sigh, not sure how to answer that one. “He had something he needed to do.”
Emily’s smile gets a puzzled, maybe concerned, slant. “Something up?”
I look at Emily, thinking I haven’t heard her mention a guy in her life in the time I’ve been working here. “I’m hoping not.”
Emily’s smile disappears. “Relationships are tricky, huh?”
“Yeah.” I sigh again, sensing she understands. I glance away, tempted to ask, but knowing it’s none of my business.
Gaze unfocused, Emily turns to the window. “I’m probably the wrong person to give advice, though. I fell pretty hard for the last guy, but in the end, I wanted kids and he didn’t.” She looks back at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her sparkly brown eyes dim and dull.
I think of how Emily practically adopted me like any of the other wounded souls coming through this door, and images of kids and puppies rollicking on a grassy lawn come to mind. Emily was meant to have children. “I’m sorry, Emily.”
“Yeah, well, you and Noah are different, and that’s nothing you have to worry about for quite some time.” The rumble of a car engine means I don’t get to process whether her statement is true, and Emily’s smile lights up her eyes again. “Either way, I’m glad you came. We’ve had a call for another injured animal. The rangers said a hiker is bringing it in shortly.”
I think of the pika we saw last week, the beaver from last month, even the lizard that had trapped its head in a soda can yesterday. I wonder what frightened creature is on its way and whether I can help.
Emily’s brown eyes twinkle in her suntanned face. “This one’s special.”
Her smile grows, and we head out front to see a tall, broad-shouldered guy hefting a large cage out of the back seat of his car. It’s a bird? As he turns toward us, I see that it is indeed a bird, but not a run-of-the-mill feathered friend. A golden eagle watches us approach.
I turn to Emily, excitement and amazement making me smile, only to see Emily’s is gone. Instead, her face is frozen in a frown as she watches the guy walk toward us. I look back, noticing how his eyes take her in.
It couldn’t be...
He sets the cage down at our feet. “Hi, Em.”
Emily straightens, like something has shot down her spine. “Where did you find her?”
The question almost has a sharp, accusatory tone. Like she’s asking him what he’s doing here rather than inquiring after the bird’s history.
I glance down at the cage. The massive bird is perched in the center, not cowering at the back, seeking the shadows. Golden Eagles are one of the few birds of prey where the female is larger than the male and judging by its size, this one’s a female. Coarse brown plumage, dull and rough, instantly shows the poor state the bird is in. Even the tawny yellow feathers on the back of her head lack any golden glow.
The guy swallows, and I’m trapped in the tension that’s growing between these two. “I was hiking. She was on the ground when I found her. Barely moved when I picked her up.”
Emily’s frown deepens. “That’s unusual.”
“Yeah. Reckoned you’d figure it out.”
Emily’s eyes fly to the guy’s, and I consider stepping back from all this emotion. There’s been no introductions, but they don’t have to state the obvious. This is the one that stole Emily’s smile.
“Let’s get her inside, Eden.”
The minute Emily says my name my invisibility cloak disappears. The guy’s eyes spin to me, all of a sudden taking me in. I’m not sure why he studies me, but I register he’s a good-looking guy, and I wonder why so much emotion is swirling around us considering it was him that couldn’t compromise. Although his scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, I throw him a small smile, knowing sometimes we can’t change things, no matter how much we want to.
His hazel eyes narrow before turning back to Emily. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”
Emily picks up the cage and turns, no goodbye, no backward glance. Anger and hurt keep her back stiff as she takes the golden eagle into the building. I turn to follow, but the guy’s voice has me turning.
Those narrowed eyes are trained on me. “Some differences can’t be overcome.”
I feel my eyes widen, the words that aren’t supposed to be relevant to me hitting a vulnerable place in my chest. Why is he looking at me like he knows?
I spin on my heel; I haven’t spoken during this whole exchange, and I don’t have anything to say now. If I can’t believe the impossible can be possible, then what hope do I have?
Emily has already headed past the kennels, the concrete pens, to the aviary at the rear. Inside she places the cage on the floor, opens the door and steps back. When nothing happens, she comes to join me looking in. The eagle has her massive wings hanging loosely and her body crouching over her feathered legs, like she doesn’t have the energy to hold anything up.
“Poor girl,” I murmur.
“She’s underweight and in pretty poor condition, but I can’t see anything obviously wrong with her.”
“Parasites?”
“Yeah, I’ll give her a dose of wormer. It could be some viral flu, but there’s no other symptoms.” Emily holds out a piece of red meat, dropping the cold chunk into my hand. I wrinkle my nose at the feeling of flesh, the metallic smell of raw meat. “Right now we need to get some nutrition into her.”
I look at the lackluster feathers, the unblinking eyes. What’s up girl? The eagle simply stares at me, giving me nothing. Odd, I would have expected agitation, withdrawal, even aggression. Not…nothing.
I don’t have to hum anymore, that special melody that was gifted along with my eye color, my too-long second toe, and my tendency to avoid conflict just plays in my head now. I realized, all those months ago I didn’t need to give it voice when the man appeared—I never said a word and the animals came. I push away the confusion that memory always evokes, not knowing if I should feel elation that the one person with my hair and eye color showed or rejection that he left.
For now, I just br
eathe and let the melody flow through my mind as I enter the aviary. I hold the piece of meat out to the eagle, showing her. Her brown head twitches, one golden eye turning directly toward me.
“That’s a good sign,” Emily whispers behind me.
I gently reach in, slowly extending my arm. The eagle’s eye follows my movements. I think soothing thoughts, take calm regular breaths, and let the notes rise and fall. My arm creeps closer to the eagle, the raw meat dangling from my fingertips. The massive bird of prey simply takes a step away. Her lackluster feathers ruffle, and she hunkers back down on her perch.
Nothing.
I leave the meat beside her and retract my hand. The eagle doesn’t even glance at it. If anything, she seems to shrink into her solitude.
Emily crosses her arms; I can practically see her running through the vet index in her brain, searching for possible causes. I’m pretty sure every veterinary journal and text is filed up in there. The bird doesn’t twitch a feather, as if she doesn’t really care whether Emily will solve the riddle or not.
Emily’s arms unfold on a deep inhalation then fall to her sides as the frustrated breath puffs out. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on her and see.”
From inside the building a bell jingles, signaling someone has just entered reception. Emily glances at her watch. “That must be my five o’clock. You joining me?”
Emily knows it’s a rhetorical question. I sit in on any consults I can, watching and learning, learning and helping. She’s a wonderful vet to see in action, calm and gentle with the animals, warm and friendly with the humans, accurate and efficient with her treatment. The guy knew what he was doing when he brought the eagle here, despite the ulterior motive.
We enter through the rear door, pass through the surgery, and into the reception area. Emily goes through first, hand extended in welcome for her next appointment. I paste a smile on my face then freeze.
Bianca rises from her chair, along with a woman with matching platinum hair, which they simultaneously flick over their shoulders. I’m guessing the woman with the cat carrier in her hand is her mother. The mother of the girl from my psychology class, the one who barely disguises her desire to sink her claws into Noah. The one who poorly conceals what she thinks of me.
Great.
A guttural hissing slips from the bars of the cage; Bianca leans down and whispers into its depths. She slips a finger through the metal bars, only to pull it back quickly when a white paw swats at it.
“Naughty, Fantasia.”
Fantasia?
“Come on through, Mrs. Farrer.”
“Ah, Emily, lovely to see you.”
Bianca takes the cage with Fantasia and follows her mother into the examination room to my left. Within two steps she sees me, standing still by the door.
“Oh, hi, Eden.” A false smile lights up her face as her free hand comes to her hair, brushing it forward to rest on her shoulder. “I didn’t know you helped out here.”
“Hi, Bianca. Yeah, I work here most afternoons.” I don’t know why I make a point of that, but I do, and I even do a little hair flick of my own when I say the word ‘work.’
Bianca whisks past me, placing the carrier on the metal bench in the center of the room. A wail, one that would compete with an ambulance, howls around the room. It seems Fantasia has a pretty good idea what is coming up.
Bianca’s mother stands back from the cage. “He’s just here for his annual shots, Emily.”
Fantasia is a he?
“We have a show coming up later this month. We’re hoping to make it a trifecta this season.”
Bianca steps forward, opening the cage. She peers into the back, cooing and whispering. Her head jerks back, her chin sucking into her neck, her hands pulling into her chest, when the wailing becomes hissing and spitting.
I hope he doesn’t act like that with the judges.
Bianca straightens and fixes her hair. She turns to Emily with an isn’t-this-your-job look. Emily just smiles her I’ve-got-this smile, and I know what is coming next.
“Eden, could you hold him for me?”
A teeny, tiny frown creases Bianca’s blonde brows. I don’t think she expected me to do anything but observe. Although this time, I was quite happy to watch.
“Eden?” Emily looks up; I don’t think she’s ever had to ask twice.
I really, really don’t want to. “Sure.”
I step up next to Emily, who moves over to the stainless-steel bench holding drawers of medical paraphernalia. She opens one to get the syringe, another to get a needle.
I step over to the carrier, bending at the knees to look inside. A white Persian, frosted fur spiked along an arched back, thick ivory tail speared into the roof of the carrier, tense white body scrunched into the back of the cage, hisses at me. Fantasia’s mouth is pulled back to show pointed angry teeth, his eyes are wide open and a little feral.
Bianca isn’t frowning anymore, she’s actually smiling a little. “He’s not too keen on strangers.”
From what I can see, he’s not too keen on humans.
Bianca watches me as I look back at Fantasia. I no longer want to have the little hair flicking competition; I just want to step back and blend into the cream walls. Because I’m not sure which is worse, proving her right and getting scratched, or proving her wrong. And publicly and irreversibly showing her I am the odd one out.
Fantasia lets out another grumbling hiss-growl, grabbing my heart. I know that helping him is my priority. I bend back down, blocking Bianca out.
It’s okay Fantasia. It’s going to be fine.
I can feel Fantasia’s anger, his indignation, but underneath I feel his anxiety and confusion. He knows this cream room with its shiny bench means two things. Fear and pain. For the second time, the melody swirls through my head, filling me with music and peace.
I don’t blame you. This wouldn’t be my favorite place either.
Fantasia’s lips come down over his pearly teeth. He looks like he is weighing his options. The music continues to flow through my mind, calming and reassuring the two of us.
Why don’t we get this over and done with, then you can take your humans home?
When a white ball of fur launches at me, Bianca doesn’t even pretend to hide her smile. A smile that quickly slackens into an open-mouthed stare when Fantasia lands in my arms and just sits there. Not moving, certainly not purring, but not scratching my eyes out either. I can feel his fluttering pulse, and I know his agitation is just beneath the surface. All the others see is a wide-eyed ball of fluff sitting in my arms.
He hisses at Emily.
Bianca stands back just watching. Please don’t come over. I don’t want to see if Fantasia will hiss or welcome Bianca. I could never explain why her cat would choose me over her at this moment. But Bianca doesn’t move, and I keep up the soothing music in my mind.
Emily steps forward, and Fantasia tenses. I hold him a little tighter, a reassuring hug, one that means I’m not likely to have to chase him around the room. With the efficiency of someone who has done this a thousand times, the needle is in and out of Fantasia’s shoulder before he has a chance to sheath his claws.
Good job, boy.
I put him back in his carrier, and Fantasia takes his white furred body to the back and sits down, his back to me. He throws me an indignant glare over his shoulder.
“Well, that was better than last year,” says Mrs. Farrer.
Emily disposes of the syringe, then washes her hands. “Yes, it’s nice to have my eyes intact.”
Bianca says nothing, and I don’t look to see where her gaze is.
Emily leads Mrs. Farrer to the reception desk, giving me a grateful smile over her shoulder. “Thanks, Eden.”
“Sure. Lucky snap, huh?”
Emily gives me a puzzled look as I’m looking for a quick, silent retreat.
Bianca hangs back, bursting my hopeful bubble. “So, where’s Noah?”
“He’s at home, I’d say.” I grit my t
eeth. We do spend some time apart. Like when he has to be a Were…
Bianca titters an artificial giggle. “It’s just that you two are joined at the hip.” She flicks her hand at me. “Does Mitch mind that Noah has found a new twin?”
I would never come between Noah and his family. “No, we love double dating.” Artificial sweetener drips from my tone.
Bianca narrows her eyes at me for a hateful second before spinning on her heel, blonde hair billowing in an artful arc, and leaving the room.
Any sense of victory evaporates in an instant. Why does everything have to be a reminder that I don’t belong? I’m certainly not Were, and it seems I’m not entirely human either. Now the one girl who sees me as competition has witnessed my inexplicable oddities.
I head outside to have one last look at the golden eagle. She hasn’t moved, the meat remains on the perch, and she doesn’t seem to care that I am standing there watching her. Wild animals don’t like to be watched, it usually makes them nervous. But this girl simply stares at nothing, feeling nothing, doing nothing. I frown as I turn back to the building; this bird has something seriously wrong with her. But until we figure it out, we can’t help her.
I’m just getting in the car when my phone tweets, telling me I have a message.
What time tonight?
I smile, from my toes to my head, from my heart to my soul. Our Thursday night is still happening. Noah has chosen to come.
Thirty minutes?
Can’t wait. Got heaps to tell you.
Hope, and the order for a pizza and a cheesecake, swirl through my mind.
5
Noah
The Channons are keen to get their leader voted in, because it’s only three days later that I’m driving to the Glade. Mitch and Tara have gone ahead, Tara trying to look calm and composed like a future Alpha should. But the tips of her shoes bobbing up and down as her toes compulsively flex says otherwise. She’s done that since we were kids. It was cute when we were eight and she stood by watching Mitch prove he could hammer a nail blindfolded. Hopefully, it will be less obvious when she’s standing in front of the Channons.