"Today? You're going to be in the park all day?" he asked, worried. "You are going to leave food out, right?"
"I'm not going to be gone more than a few hours. You just ate. You won't starve."
"Are you sure you won't be gone long? You don't think the weather will change? Feels like a weather change to me. What if you get trapped and I have no food? I might have to go for the bird --"
"You know what would happen to you if you harmed a single feather on Shakespeare, right?" I stared him straight in the face.
"I really don't think I want to know," Cato conceded.
"Good answer."
"Nevertheless --"
"I'll leave some food out. Dry."
"You are most kind."
I got up and went inside to prepare for my day with the Professional. I shoved everything I needed into my weather-worn shoulder bag. I fixed my hair again. I even felt fairly competent when someone knocked gently on the door.
A shame Cato tripped me as I headed toward the front door; I hit a book case, hitting a stack of magazines onto the floor. They hit and scattered around my feet.
"Sorry," Cato apologized, though he plainly didn't mean it. I could hear him snicker.
"You are risking the food," I answered, and swept the books back into place with a touch of magic.
I opened the door and had my first look at David Carter. For some reason, he didn't strike me as a David. Maybe he should have been someone with a more exotic name. He could have walked in off a beach in Southern California: tan, with long windblown brown hair and bright grass-green eyes.
I blinked. So did he. I don't know what he'd expected, but I know he wasn't my image of a world class photographer with a reputation as impressive as his.
"David Carter?" I asked, hoping I wasn't wrong.
He smiled, looking nervous. "Yes. You must be Katlyn Borders?"
"Kat." I offered my hand. We shook; good hands, long fingered and fine-skinned. He had a camera bag/backpack slung over his shoulder. I'd have to be careful. Magic, cameras, film . . . not a good combination.
"Come in. Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you. I left Loveland far too early this morning." He followed me inside, glancing around the place. I took a moment to throw a protective shield around the camera bag so any magic in the area wouldn't affect the equipment inside. I'd still have to be careful if he took anything out.
I saw him nod as though he approved of the house. "Nice place. What a great cat. What's his name?"
"Cato," I said. Cato did his innocent act, pacing in the kitchen to remind me of my promise to feed him again.
"I bet this is a wonderful area to live in. Expensive, though, right?"
"Pretty much." I tried not to feel guilty. This place came from my family, and belonged to the clan long before any human settled at Estes Park. We went through the pretense of selling sometimes, and had the place rebuilt a couple years ago, but I didn't have to pay for the place.
I don't need money. I write because I enjoy telling people about the park and the mountains. I also enjoy doing something that doesn't take any magic and I am able to share with humans on a level where we all connect.
I went to the kitchen to get David a cup of coffee. Cato followed me.
"Try to trip me again, cat -- you'll be out hunting food with Pawford."
"I'm trying to remind you of your obligations," Cato answered.
David laughed. "That's funny. He meowed just like he's talking to you."
"Oh, he is," I said. "I'm sure he has a lot to say, too."
"Good thing you can't understand him," David replied. He took the cup from my hand.
I hoped I didn't turn red or anything. He seemed like a really nice guy and I did not want to act like a total loon.
Cato glanced from me to him and back again. He shook his head. "Uh oh. I know that look. If you're going to get involved with this one, please try to be a little more discreet than you were the last time. I was mortified to walk in on the two of you doing it --"
I almost batted him on the head, which would have been a bad thing to do with David there. "Let me get him some food so he shuts up." I forced a smile.
"He does seem a nice, talkative cat." David leaned down, scratching Cato behind the ears and down the neck.
"Okay," Cato mumbled, standing still as he began purring. "You can keep this one. And I don't care what you do with him."
"Well, you're easily won over." Lucky for me the words didn't sound odd. I sometimes forgot myself. It's hard when you can understand cats and birds but others can't. In the fae lands, they at least know what's going on. I've drawn a few odd looks on this side.
I gave the cat more food. I even found another treat from the fridge for him to keep him busy and away from me for a few minutes. David and I went out to the dining room table and sat down to discuss business while we sipped our coffee.
"I thought we'd take a nice, easy hike today." I hadn't been certain if the photographer would be in shape for a long, difficult trek, but I could see David wouldn't have any trouble on the trails. "That will let you get acclimatized to the elevations while we get some idea of the type of pictures you want to take."
"The publisher mostly wants animals," he said. "Wild Walks Magazine loves those kinds of things."
"Yeah, I've written for them a couple times. I'm not a photographer, though, and they've used stock pictures most of the time."
"I'll do my best to do your work justice."
I blushed this time. I know I did. He sipped his coffee.
"Excuse me, Kat," Cato called from the kitchen. "Might I have some of the nice milk? I believe it's almost out of date."
"Fine, fine," I said. David glanced at me. "He wants milk. Ummm . . . I almost always give him some milk in the morning."
"You shouldn't lie to the human," Cato replied.
"If you want the milk, you better stop now."
David laughed. "He does have you trained!"
I did my best not to stalk back out to the kitchen. Cato kept his distance. I got out the milk and poured him some in his dish. He glanced at me and quickly bowed his head.
"Okay, okay. I'll behave."
"That's better."
I don't mind talking to cats and birds. Just the same, I do enjoy a discussion with humans or fae sometimes.
I gathered a couple Danish rolls and came back to the table. David smiled in appreciation. We sipped coffee while we ate rolls, and talked business, mostly. He didn't know much about the writing side, and I knew nothing about photography. We both shared an interest in drawing. I suspected he was far better than me. He talked about shapes, colors and light. I hadn't thought of them as separate things in a picture.
He began to show me his equipment. I quickly damped down on my powers, though I didn't mind this time. I loved seeing his excitement for the work.
"You have a lot of cameras." I nodded to the three camera bodies he placed on the table.
He smiled and sat a larger camera on the table with an odd gentleness. "This is a medium format Hasselblad. I could have bought a car with the money I spent on this camera and it's worth every cent."
"It's lovely."
"Here --" He started to hand the camera to me.
"Oh, no, no, no. Cameras and I don't get along. I'll admire it from across the table, thank you."
I'd have to be careful of the cameras, PDA and the cell phone he carried. People can rarely get reception on the phones anywhere near me. Lucky for me, they mostly blame the location or the weather.
"You must really love photography." I watched his face. You can tell a lot about a person by how they react.
He looked at the cameras the way a mother cat watched her new kittens. He even reached out brushing his hand over the top of the Hasselblad and the three others.
"Yeah, I do," he admitted with an oddly wistful sound. He turned my way with a start, as though I caught him at some terrible admission. "This is the work I want to do. I want to capture the world and sh
are those views with all the people who cannot come to these lovely places."
"Sounds wonderful," I answered.
"A lot of people don't understand. My parents want me to get a real job --"
"Even now?" I asked. "You make a lot of money at photography."
"Yeah, well my father is a farmer in Iowa. So were his father and his grandfather." He stopped, giving a quick shrug. "Photography isn't the kind of work he can understand, and money isn't a factor. How about your family? They approve of your work?"
They didn't know about the writing. "As long as I stay out of trouble, they're happy."
He laughed, as though the idea of me in trouble amused him. I didn't think I wanted to take the conversation any farther, especially since the kind of trouble I got into wasn't something I could explain to a human. Lucky for me, he began to pack away his camera equipment. At least I saw how he got those great arm muscles. Those cameras must have weighed a good amount. I could also see an array of lenses and who knew what else in the backpack as well. He appeared anxious to get going.
"I'm ready to leave if you are." I started gathering plates and cups. "We can get a good idea of what you might want today, take a short hike, then come back and make plans. I know part of what I'm going to write about but I want to tailor the rest of the work to the pictures you get. This is going to be a cooperative project."
"Sounds good," he agreed. "I think this is going to work nicely for both of us."
"I assume you have a rented car?" I asked as I dropped the dishes in the sink.
"Yes."
"We'll take my car. I know how it handles on mountain roads and we don't have to worry about any scratches."
"Sounds great. I pay for the gas though. I'm on the expense sheet."
"Fair enough." I suspected I was going to enjoy this assignment. I had only worked with one other photographer, a woman who had been self-absorbed. She'd done excellent photos but she wasn't the most pleasant human I'd ever met.
I generally like humans. Maybe I even feel closer to them than to fae sometimes because of the magic -- the fact I don't have as much as most of my family. No one outwardly judges a fae by how much power they hold, but it's still a fact, hanging there between us.
Humans judge me for who I am and what I do. I'm usually easy to get along with, if a bit eccentric.
David stepped into the living room, glancing toward the loft where I have several bookcases, a futon, and a view the gods would have envied, with huge windows on both ends of the house. Maybe we'd go there to talk business after our trip to the park.
"Dim vanities of dreams by night!" Shakespeare suddenly shouted, startling him. He'd obviously not noticed the bird on his perch in the corner.
"Sorry. I should have mentioned Shakespeare. He's apt to quote poetry at any moment."
"African Gray?" He asked going closer. "I've heard they're smart birds."
"Yes, well, most of them," I answered. Shakespeare gave me a look that could have killed. I almost expected him to say something. Instead he shuffled around on his perch for a moment and turned back to David as he carefully approached the bird. He let David brush his fingers over the top of his head.
I didn't move for fear of unsettling the parrot. He was . . . well, flighty is a good term. It wasn't only his inability to talk parrot which showed he had problems. He started at every wind, and sometimes even the magic I used set him off.
He let David pet him and even rubbed against David's hand.
"There are crackers in the drawer to your right, if you want to give him one," I offered.
David opened the drawer -- the one with the claw marks. Shakespeare knew where I kept the treats, though he hadn't gotten the knack of pulling against the latch.
He probably thought opening the drawer was magic. Odd thought.
"Well, isn't this interesting?" Cato said, sitting beside me.
I almost answered, but settled for a nod instead. I leaned on the doorframe and watched while David broke off a piece of cracker for to the bird. Shakespeare took it nicely, ate and bobbed his head several times, obviously wanting more.
"That's a good sign," I said, pleased with the reaction. "He's an unsettled bird. The park rangers took four days to find him after some people drove to the highest point of the park before they set the bird free to be in the wilds."
David's eyebrows rose. "This bird. Free in the snowy mountains? Didn't the name African Grey mean anything to them?"
"Apparently not." I came over to pet Shakespeare as well, glad to see the bird so calm.
"Rendered me mad and deaf and blind!" Shakespeare shouted and fluffed his chest feathers as he spread his wings.
"He does this often?" David asked.
"Yes. And rarely the same quote twice."
"Incredible! I'd heard African Greys can be extremely smart, but I think this might even be exceptional. What could possess people to throw out such a bird?"
I watched while David gave him the last of the crackers. "Who knows what the owners thought, though having Shakespeare for four months with the odd poetry, I'm tempted to think he drove them crazy."
Shakespeare reached over and bit me on the finger. Hard.
I yelped and headed for the bathroom to get my hand cleaned and stop the bleeding. I trusted David would be careful having seen what the bird could do.
Cato followed me and jumped onto the counter. "That bird is a menace, you know," he said.
"He's troubled."
"So are most mass murders and dogs. That doesn't mean you should take them into your house." He shook his head in a very human-like gesture. I thought he might be spending far too much time with me. "There's something just not right about him."
"I know." I patted him on the head. "Shakespeare stays."
I could have used magic to heal the wound if David hadn't seen it. I settled for a magical bandage to dull the pain and stop the bleeding. I didn't want to spend the day wincing at everything I did.
David had finished feeding the bird. He stood by the plate glass window at the front of the house.
"Finger all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine." I waved the bandaged finger.
"Lovely view." He nodded to the window. "I bet this is exquisite at nightfall."
"Nightfall, dawn, bright summer days and the middle of winter," I answered. He smiled and grabbed his pack. I found my bag and slung it across my shoulder, giving a last nod to Cato and Shakespeare.
Once outside, I heard the frantic twitters of far too many small birds, still gathered somewhere out behind the house. They grew suddenly louder. I hoped we got away before they came to talk to me.
I rely on magic to keep the place safe, but David would expect me to lock up. I foraged around in my purse. I didn't actually find the right key so I pretended to lock the door while I tested out the wards -- just light ones I kept in place because they didn't take much power. I had stronger ones in place, but I had never needed to power them up. The little ones were easy and David didn't even notice.
The morning tasted of pine and wood smoke from some place down the hill. A nuthatch swept past me, twittering.
"Big wings, big wings, fly, fly, fly!"
I waved the bird away as I followed David down the rock-lined path to where his fancy Subaru sat side-by-side with my car, which runs mostly on magic. I sometimes pretend to fill the gas tank, just for show. The pieces of the car were all hand-formed by my cousin, who took considerable pains to make everything seem real. Why go to so much trouble rather than buying one off a lot? Because a real car worked with technology so any fae using it -- including me -- would have to damp down natural powers or risk everything failing. Catastrophically in some cases. This way I could run around town like a human without being powerless. Besides, cutting off our natural powers isn't easy or practical for long stretches of time.
The car is also equipped with magic shields so non-fae can ride with me and not have their fancy watches and PDAs die on them. The baffles made putting
the photography equipment in the back safe from the car and from me.
As we reached the car, a couple more nuthatches swept past me, panic growing in their frantic cries. I waved them on, but as I opened the driver side door a flock of nuthatches flew into the air, at least a hundred of them, twittering in panic as they took off down the hillside.
David turned to me, surprised.
"Birdfeeders behind the house," I hastily explained which was, at least, partially true.
"Ah." He opened his door.
Before we could get into the car more birds rose into the air, the din of their yells growing louder. A few lifted over the house, and then more, then hundreds -- surely not a thousand! Most were nuthatches -- still screaming about big wings -- though I saw several other small birds caught in the panicked swarm as it literally covered the sky above my home. For a heartbeat they blocked out the sun before the birds turned toward town flying to the west.
I watched in shock and dismay, and finally turned back to David.
"Must cost you a fortune in bird food," he said.
Chapter Three
The astonishing flight of the birds had unsettled me. Even I wasn't used to this kind of odd behavior. I stared the way they'd flown for a dozen heartbeats before I got into the car, barely noting as David got a tripod from his vehicle. My hands trembled. I hoped he didn't notice.
"How long have you lived here?" he asked as he slid in and pulled the seatbelt into place, reminding me to do the same. Oh yes, and start the car. Good plan.
"About five years," I said, trying to keep some sound of normality in my voice. I glanced at the house. Cato, who had come out the magical cat door, looked around as though he'd just missed the chance of a lifetime. Oddly, Pawford, Abbie and Trouble weren't around. They'd even left some of the food behind. Cato checked the plates out then walked away, obviously stuffed.
I pulled out of the driveway and turned the car down the narrow winding road that ended at my place. The street sign at the first corner said we were on Fairy Tale Lane. Yeah, my people have been here for a long time.
"This is a nice place to live," I said, knowing I'd been too quiet. "I don't ever want to move. I love the town and the park, though some people find both too touristy."
Kat Among The Pigeons Page 2