Chasing Thunderbird

by J. Leigh Bailey

  “Hello? Dr. Coleman?” I could just make out David’s tinny voice coming from the device in my hand.

  Clearing my throat, I pressed the phone to my ear. “Yes, David. Hi.”

  “I got your message. What do you have? Your timing couldn’t have been better. The deadline for the next issue is coming up, and we don’t have anything particularly exciting for the front page.”

  What I had to share would definitely be sensational. It was certainly front-page material.

  I could do it. All I would have to do is send the email I’d typed up. In and of itself, it wouldn’t exonerate my family, but it might act as a bit of payback. And now that I knew what I knew, I’d be able to gather the evidence I’d need to save my family’s reputation. I’ve never been a believer in an eye for an eye, but my grandpa’s time was running out. And everything my relatives had endured, every rude comment, every snicker behind cupped hands, every snub at an academic event happened because of Ford’s family.

  “Dr. Coleman?”

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sacrifice Ford’s people for my relatives’ pride. No matter how much Ford’s betrayal hurt me.

  “Sorry, David. Woolgathering.”

  “So, you said you had a big story for me?”

  “Yeah. Um… I was bird-watching at Buffalo Bill State Park. And….” I stared at Ford’s drawn face. “I saw a parrot.”

  Ford jerked, as though he’d struck himself with his own lightning.

  “A parrot?” David deadpanned.

  Ford looked… flabbergasted. I didn’t think I’d ever used the word before, not even to myself, but with his eyes bulging and mouth agape, it fit. Then he snickered.

  Shit. I’d gotten myself into this mess. I had to get myself out of it. Even if it made me the butt of all the jokes. Even if it brought ridicule upon me. Even if my colleagues would think I had lost my mind. Just following in my family’s footsteps. “Exactly. A parrot. Psittaciformes.” I spelled it out for him. “An indigo macaw, specifically. Anodorhynchus leari,” I added helpfully, spelling the scientific name too, just in case. “And, as you know, parrots, especially anodorhynchus leari, are not native to this part of Wyoming. Or, you know, to the United States. They’re from Brazil.”

  After a really long pause, David asked, “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Um… no?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Coleman. I know I shouldn’t have written the article that way, but when I found that information, it was way more interesting than the new bio teacher.”

  “Ornithology professor.”

  “Exactly. I could only spin the bird-nerd things so far. But the search for a mythical bird was so much more sensational. And there’s enough weird stuff going on around here that it resonated with the readers.”

  “No doubt.” I needed to nip this in the bud. “But to be clear, I am not searching for a mythological creature. I have no reason to believe that thunderbirds are anything other than very rare, isolated raptors.”

  David chuckled good-naturedly. “Sure. But the other is more exciting. Good joke, though. You’ve had me frantic for a story. Parrots.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe gear your articles more toward the Times and less the Enquirer.” I had to admit, I’d much rather he think I was playing some kind of bizarre practical joke than that I expected him to do an article about the out-of-place indigo macaw.

  “Right. Well, since there’s no real story here, I’d better let you go. Parrots.” With that, David disconnected the call.

  I set my phone down and stared at my laptop. The words mocked me. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to revealing everything. And it wasn’t like anyone would have believed me. Hell, I wouldn’t have believed me if I’d read an article claiming shifters not only existed, but attended college in northern Wyoming.

  I highlighted the entire document. With a quick glance over my shoulder at Ford, I hit Delete. In one keystroke, more than two thousand words—I’d been quite prolific in the early morning hours—disappeared.

  Pressure built in the air, and my ears popped before it receded again. It hit me. “Son of a bitch. It was you. All the weird shifts in air pressure and the flickering lights.”

  His cheeks pinked, and he scratched his ear. It was adorable.

  “Yeah, well, along with the whole lightning and thunder thing, I can control energy fields and air pressure. Except, around you I have to fight for that control. And sometimes I lose. Whenever you’ve noticed a change, it was a time when I slipped.”

  I blinked at him. “Damn.”

  He rubbed his hand over his flushed face. “Yeah. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.”

  “And flattering.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He rocked in place for a second, then glanced around as though looking for an excuse to change the subject. His eyes fell on my laptop. “You didn’t need to do that, you know. I’d have taken the consequences.”

  “I did have to do it. I was hurt and angry and wasn’t thinking straight. I’d have regretted it if something I said or did brought undue attention to you or your friends. Or your family. And what would happen to people like Bethany if Cody College was no longer a safe place for them to learn? My pride isn’t worth that.”

  Ford wrapped his hands around my waist and drew my body against his. “Welcome to Shifter U.”

  “Shifter U?”

  He placed a kiss on my cheek, followed by one on my forehead. “Yeah, that’s what the occasionally furry—”

  “Or feathered,” I added.

  “Or feathered.” He trailed his lips to my neck, and I was compelled to tilt my head back to encourage more of that touch. “It’s what we call Cody College. Shifter U.”

  “That’s awesome. Do you have T-shirts? I think you need T-shirts.”

  “No T-shirts.” He pressed his forehead into the crook of my neck, pulling me even tighter into him. “Thank you.”

  I dragged my fingers through his hair, tugging gently when I hit the ends. “I’m a little bit in love with you,” I whispered. “I couldn’t do anything that would put you in danger.”

  “I’m glad. I’m a little in love with you too.”

  I rested my forehead against his chest. “We’ve only known each other for, like, two weeks. It’s kind of fast.”

  “A lot has happened during that two weeks.”

  “Is it too much to hope that life will get a little less exciting going forward?”

  Ford chuckled, and the vibrations of it tickled my chest. “I think that’s fair.”

  Another thought crossed my mind. “If your mind-wipe thing is just disorientation and short-term memory loss, does that mean there’s a chance that the Eternal Serpent people are going to target me and my family again?”

  Ford shrugged. “Possibly, but we’ll be ready for them. I’ve got you now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

  “My hero.” I smirked into the warmth of his neck. Then I snickered.

  “What?”

  “Tierney’s going to be pissed.”

  Ford pushed back from me far enough so I could see his scowl. “Really? We’re having this beautiful reconciliation moment, and you have to bring up Tierney?”

  “Well, you can’t be my TA anymore, so we’ll have to work that out. Get you assigned to a new advisor. And he needs to know that I know about shifters. He, and the other shifters, need to know that the Reynolds building is still a safe sanctuary. And—”

  Ford shut me up with a kiss. “Turn your mind off for a bit. We can deal with all that tomorrow. For now, let’s get back to the making up. I was enjoying that part.”

  “Oh, okay, then.” Since his kisses had the ability to strike me dumb, we did just that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I HAVE a question.”

  Two hours and much making up later, my brain came back online.

  “Of course you do.”

  We’d made love—I knew it probably sounded sappy to say it, but it had
definitely been making love, not sex—and Ford had managed to make the whole duplex shake. I’d found this place with my tongue that made him lose control of his thunder. And, holy shit, it was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. Making Ford lose control was going to be my new life’s mission now that I’d finally discovered my thunderbird. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have questions.

  “So what are you, exactly?” I snuggled close to him, pulling the bedsheet up around us. I hadn’t noticed the cold while we were otherwise occupied, but now that the heat of the moment had passed, a little extra cover came in handy. And since my comforter was still piled on my couch in the other room, I had to make do with a sheet.

  He chuckled, the movement jostling my head, which I had rested on his shoulder. “That’s a hell of a question, Simon.”

  I twined a lock of his hair around my finger and tugged, a tiny punishment for his sass. I hadn’t even known he had any kind of sassiness in him. “Come on. I think the least you can do is provide some explanations as payment for the last century and a quarter of your family making Colemans the laughingstocks of the scientific community.”

  “Fine.” He brushed a kiss across my forehead. “So you want to know what I am.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I know you’re a thunderbird shape-shifter, but is it like Bethany, who is an eagle and a human? Are there actual non-shape-shifting thunderbirds out there? Like the raptors I’ve been chasing for years? But then where do the thunder and lightning and energy fields come from? Do those traits mean you’re closer to the mythological, capital-T Thunderbirds? The manifestations of the sky and storm?”

  He huffed out a laugh, which bounced my head again. “Breathe. I get it.” He ran his hand along my side, the play of fingers over my ribs almost enough to distract me from my interrogation.

  I rubbed my forehead against his shoulder, pausing briefly to nip at the soft skin at his throat. A groan escaped him, and he arched his neck as though seeking more contact. I obliged before ordering him back on track.

  “It’s a little complicated,” he warned.

  “I’m smart. I can keep up.”

  “As far as I know, there are no mundane, naturally occurring, non-shape-shifting thunderbirds. The only thunderbirds who exist are like me. In fact, they’re all relatives.”

  “So when you said you weren’t like other shifters—”

  “It’s exactly what I meant. My family is descended from the Thunderbird.”

  “What? How does that work?” I propped myself onto my elbow so I could see his face. “I mean, there are so many stories from different tribes. You’re connected to all of them?”

  “Sort of. But not really.”

  I tugged his hair in warning. “That was clear as mud.”

  “The thing is, there was just one.”

  “One what?”

  “One Thunderbird.”

  I huffed out a breath. “You’re going to have to help me out here. I may be smart, but I suspect you’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

  “The Thunderbird of legend was a single entity. He was part of all Nations but belonged to none of them. All the stories from the different tribes were about the same being. They changed over time, depending on who was telling the story and when, which is why there are so many Thunderbird legends. Ultimately there was a single, quintessential Thunderbird.”

  “And you’re descended from it? Him?” What was the proper pronoun for a spiritual entity with legendary godlike powers?

  “Yeah. He was, like, the archetype. Or maybe prototype is a better word. We come from him, in his image, with some of his powers. But we’re not a perfect copy. Kind of like how a model car is almost, but not quite, the same as the real deal. It looks the same, has some of the same movements, but is much smaller in scale, without the power.”

  I took a moment for that to sink in. “I get it. I think.” I grinned at him. “That’s so cool. My boyfriend being descended from a myth.”

  He shot me a look made up of one part surprise and two parts pleasure. “Boyfriend?”

  I cleared my throat. “Um, yeah. I mean, if you want—”

  He rolled onto his back, pulling me along until I lay draped over his chest like a quilt. “I want.” He pulled my head down, catching my mouth in a blistering kiss that had my body tightening in response. Too sated from two hours of making up to be more than a little tempted, I folded my hands on his chest, using them as a chin rest.

  And since Ford seemed to be in sharing frame of mind, I decided to take full advantage. “So, is the Thunderbird connection the reason you said you were ‘mostly Sioux’? If he was of all Nations, but not specific to any one, does that mean you are too?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. My family is pretty isolated, and we moved around a lot. We didn’t spend much time with any one tribe. We didn’t spend much time with anyone not family, for that matter.”

  “But you tell people you’re Sioux?”

  “I stayed in South Dakota during most of my high school years. I spent a lot of time among the Oglala Sioux.”

  I didn’t know much about the Sioux Nation. “You’ll have to tell me about your time with them at some point.”

  “Sure.”

  We lay there in comfortable silence for a while. I don’t know what he was doing, but I was mostly basking in the moment. Good sex and answered questions. There wasn’t much better. Except: “So the model-car metaphor. Would that particular model car be a Ford Thunderbird?”

  Ford nudged me off him, groaning. He grabbed a pillow, using it to cover his face.

  “I can’t believe it just hit me. That is the greatest thing ever.” My grin was so wide, it was probably visible from space. “It’s awesome.”

  “I hate my parents.” The words were muffled by the pillow, but there was no missing the plaintive whine.

  I tugged the pillow away. “Seriously. I can’t believe your parents would do that. Is it a family name?”

  “No. My dad was just oblivious. He liked the name and never made the connection.”

  I snuggled closer to him, wrapping my arm across his chest. “Well, I like it,” I declared, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

  He slid his own arm along my ribs again and pulled me even tighter into his side. “Of course you do.”

  Epilogue

  “WHERE are we going?”

  I pushed my grandfather’s wheelchair into the back garden of the assisted-living complex. Since it was spring break, I’d been able to make it back to Illinois for the first time since I’d moved to Wyoming. The April sun shone warmly on the paved path, but I’d bundled Grandpa into a fairly heavy jacket. I’d noticed that even in his rooms, which were kept at a pretty warm temperature, he’d worn a thick sweatshirt. It might have been because he was chilled, or it might have been for my benefit. It was the Cody College hoodie I’d sent him for his birthday in March.

  He was a bare husk of the man I remembered from my youth. Once he’d been vibrant and strong, carrying a little extra weight around the belly. Now he was all bones and tissue-thin skin. But the smile he gave me when I walked into the room was exactly the same. It was the one that conveyed love, affection, and pride.

  “We’re going on an adventure.”

  “You springing me from this joint?”

  “You wish. I’ve got something to show you. You can’t ask any questions, though. There’s something you need to see.”

  The paving stones gave way to soggy grass. “Loretta’s gonna be pissed if we track mud through the halls.”

  “I think you’re sweet on Ms. Loretta,” I teased. I put my back into keeping the wheelchair moving forward.

  This little show-and-tell experiment had seemed like a good idea last week, but I hadn’t counted on the April showers, and their impact on the lawn. I guessed I should have been glad the assisted-living facility backed against a state park.

  I’d scoped the place out earlier and knew that the small clearing we’d reached would provide the best view
for the show, while at the same time conceal us from the watchful eyes of the facility’s employees.

  I situated Grandpa in the right direction and levered the wheelchair’s brakes into place. “Remember, no questions.” I squatted next to him and pointed toward the skyline. “Look.”

  Thunder boomed in the distance. Showoff.

  With a whoosh of sound, a huge black bird crested the tree line. The feathers were so dark, the glow of the sun was absorbed into rather than reflected off them. It had the narrow sternum and powerful wings of a condor, the head and neck of a golden eagle, and strange, paddle-like feathers flowing behind the tail feathers. A complete hodgepodge of features that didn’t match any known species of bird.

  Grandpa gasped as the bird approached. He lifted a shaky hand as though he could touch the distant creature. “It’s real.”

  The bird banked left, flying closer. It swooped low, low enough my grandfather could see the blazing platinum-and-ice eyes. Then it angled upward again. With every powerful thrust of those magnificent wings, thunder rumbled in the distance. I don’t think Grandpa heard. But he never took his rapt gaze off my boyfriend.

  We sat there almost an hour, watching Ford dance in the tumultuous spring air currents. I pretended not to see the tracks of tears run down my grandfather’s cheeks. Or the whispered “it’s real” that came every two minutes, as regular as Old Faithful. The joy on Grandpa’s face filled me with such gratitude, it was all I could do not to let my own tears fall. That Ford would do this for my grandfather—for me—caused love to blossom in my chest, deeper and stronger than before. Even though we’d taken what precautions we could, showing up in daylight was a risk. He already had his cousins Nicky and Derrick scouring the internet for any sighting rumors.

  I’d met Ford’s father last month. He was one scary dude, and I got a preview of what Ford would be like in thirty years. Mr. Whitney had glowered at me, threatened me with dire consequences if I ever revealed in any way—from merest rumor to publication in a scientific journal—the existence of his people. Then he slapped me on the back, shook my hand, and welcomed me to the family.