“Do you know them?” Jace squinted into the morning sun, glaring just above the roof of the nest/lodge. “I don’t know any of them. They don’t think like normal…” I whispered, then sputtered to a stop as the two forms suddenly leaped from the porch in sync. And completely wingless.
Marc and Jace both gasped at the abrupt—and apparently suicidal—jump, and it took most of my self-control not to do the same thing.
Upon takeoff, one wingless bird veered left while the other veered right, fully human arms spread wide. Less than a second later, when they’d put enough distance between their artfully falling bodies, both thunderbirds seem to ripple in the air, and suddenly both sets of arms doubled in length and sprouted feathers. Just like that. What had been normal—if heavily muscled—human arms were suddenly six foot long, darkly feathered wings, in the span of less than two seconds.
Their midair Shift was the single most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Bar none. Shifting for the birds didn’t work the same way it worked for us, or presumably for the bruins. Their transformation was neither slow nor awkward, and I could see no sign that it hurt. And—obviously—they could do it in midflight.
That was the equivalent of a werecat Shifting in mid-step. Midleap, even. I couldn’t imagine undergoing such a miracle of transformation, or how different our lives might have been if it were possible, and I spared one moment to be both stunned and impressed. But then common sense took over, and I returned to a healthy state of caution.
The birds swooped toward us in sync, wingtips less than a foot apart. Marc and Jace backpedaled, and after an instant’s hesitation, I decided to stand my ground. Still, my heart beat in terrified syncopation for a moment before the birds dropped onto the ground in front of me, even as the avian-scented wind from their last powerful flap blew hair back from my face. Their feathers receded and their limbs shrank to normal size in the time it took for them to fold their huge wings at their sides.
And only once they’d landed did I realize that they were indeed naked, apparently unaffected by the bitter cold. Well, almost unaffected…
I blinked and forced my pulse to slow as Marc and Jace took up protective stances on my left and right, towering over the emissaries. For thunderbirds, these were pretty tall—only an inch or so shorter than my own five-foot-seven frame. But thunderbirds were walking—or flying—proof that size isn’t everything. Inch for inch, they were the single most ruthless predators I’d ever encountered, and they were built for both flight and fight.
Their spindly legs and narrow waists enabled them to build weight, and thus power, where it was really needed for flight—in their thick arms and powerful chests. I’d never seen pecs so well-defined, biceps and triceps so chiseled. They could have been carved from granite. As could their cold, decidedly unwelcoming expressions.
For a moment, we all stared at one another, the cats in wary amazement, the birds in outright suspicion. And when their faces gained human features, I realized I knew them by both face and name.
“Cade and Coyt, right?” I said, hoping my smile looked more confident than it felt.
“Girl-cat,” the one on the left returned in his odd, multitonal voice, nodding in imitation of an actual greeting. And considering that I didn’t know which of them was which, I couldn’t work up any irritation over the fact that they’d obviously forgotten my name. Or saw no reason to use it. “You’ve come to claim what we owe you?”“Yes. But first I want to speak to Kai. He owes us his life, and I’m calling in his personal debt first.”
Twenty-eight
“You think he’ll go for that?” Marc asked, as Cade and Coyt dropped onto the porch overhead, one right after the other.
I shrugged and turned to face them both, hunching deeper into my coat. “I give it a fifty-fifty chance of total failure. If Kai refuses to repay a debt he legitimately owes, he’ll be dishonored in front of his entire Flight. Thunderbirds always avenge their dead, honor their word, and pay their debts. Those seem to be the only laws they have.” Based on what little time I’d spent with them.
Marc frowned. “It’s that ‘legitimately owes’ part that worries me.”
“Thus the fifty-fifty shot of failure.” I stared up at the nest, watching for any sign of activity. “It all depends on whether or not I’m able to bullshit him into thinking he owes us.”
“The odds are always in your favor when bullshit’s involved.” Jace grinned, and I couldn’t help returning his smile.
“It’s not bull,” Marc insisted. “We could have killed him when we caught him. Probably should have, considering how little information he actually gave us. So by their way of thinking, Kai owes us his life.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” The door overhead squealed open again, and Cade and Coyt stepped to the edge of the porch, this time followed by a third, slightly smaller form. Kai. It had to be.
Cade and Coyt leaped off the porch in opposite directions—evidently standard operating procedure for jumping from tall buildings—and when they were far enough away to avoid collision, the third bird followed, already sprouting feathers all over his rapidly lengthening arms.
The two larger birds landed directly in front of us with bold, heavy thumps, and seconds later their companion dropped to the ground a few feet behind them, showing off an odd combination of a bird’s upper body and a human’s lower half. His face Shifted as he stomped toward us, his curved, pointed beak melting into his face as his feathers retreated like magic. Or at least like movie-magic.
Cade and Coyt stepped aside as Kai approached, wings spread aggressively, bare human feet evidently unbothered by the rough, cold gravel.
“What debt do you claim from me?” he demanded, his weird, dual-tone voice scraping down my inner chalkboard. Kai’s black eyes flashed in anger, but I got the distinct impression that part of that was to cover up…embarrassment? Yeah. Something in his bearing—overkill on the menacing posture?—told me he was humiliated at having been called out by a trio of werecats claiming he owed an as-yet-unpaid debt.
Good. Maybe this’ll work, after all….
“It’s really not complicated. We spared your life, ergo, you owe us.” I crossed my arms over my chest, neglecting my frozen fingers in favor of the most confident look I could muster.
His jaw clenched visibly, beady black eyes narrowing. “I was ready and willing to die honorably, as a prisoner of war.”
I huffed, showcasing legitimate skepticism. “Yet, here you stand. A fully healed, functional member of society.” Wherein society was defined as a Flight of giant, ruthless, cannibalistic birds of prey.
Kai’s arms suddenly sprouted long, dark brown feathers, and his hands arced into wickedly curved talons, three digits in front, and a fully opposable, needle-sharp thumb-digit. “Only because you wouldn’t kill me.”
I grinned and tossed my hair over one shoulder. “Which brings us back to the part where you owe us.”
“I owe you nothing but a lesson in honor.” He stepped forward threateningly, puffing up like an angry rooster. Marc and Jace bristled at my sides, prepared to fight if necessary. “I was perfectly willing to die for my Flight,” Kai insisted, and I forced my racing pulse to calm.
“You didn’t sound too willing to die for your cause when you were begging me not to leave you alone in the deep, dark basement, walled in by the earth itself. To leave a window open so you could see your precious sky. And what did I do? I opened that window. We not only spared your life, we gave you comfort. And water, and shelter. Do you provide similar accommodations to prisoners of war?”
He opened his mouth to protest, and I interrupted before he could, remembering how well they’d treated Kaci when she was their hostage. “Without previous negotiations, or the hope of some reward in return?”
The thunderbird’s eyes narrowed. “Are you not here in search of just such a reward?”
My eyebrows rose. “Clever, aren’t you? And again, we’re back to the fact that you owe us. Are you going to quibble like a spoiled child, or are you going to stand up like a man—er, bird—and settle the debt you’ve incurred?”
Kai seemed to deflate a bit, but didn’t unclench his jaw. He glanced from side to side, and though I couldn’t read much in either of the other birds’ expressions, evidently Kai could. He huffed, then turned back to me, spine straight and stiff.
“I will not dishonor my Flight by shirking my duty. You granted me some small measure of comfort when I was at your mercy, therefore I owe you some small manner of gratitude.”
Uh-oh. “Small manner of gratitude” didn’t sound quite big enough to cover what we needed.
“You don’t sound very grateful. We saved your life.”
“No.” Kai shook his head firmly, jaw set. “You merely refrained from taking it. Those are two entirely different things. What do you want?”
“We need you to do some reconnaissance. A simple flyby over our ranch. All you have to do is count the cars and tell us how many men you see hanging around the property.”
Kai shook his head without a moment’s hesitation. “Not even if you fed me your firstborn, still wet and screaming.”