Liz
Sheppard, in his SUV with two search dogs and their handlers, followed a Humvee toward a neighborhood in the foothills. The windows were open and the warm night air drifted through the car. The island felt preternaturally quiet, empty, like a dystopian landscape in the aftermath of some great catastrophe. It reminded him of scenes from The Road, long stretches of nothing except trees and deserted homes and buildings. Now and then, one of the two search dogs in the back seat whined. No one spoke.
The Humvee stopped at the entrance to the neighborhood and Keel and half a dozen soldiers got out. Sheppard pulled in next to it and he and the dogs and their handlers exited the SUV. White noise crackled in his earbud, then Keels’ voice came through. “You all know the drill. The troops will shadow the dogs and handlers into the neighborhood. The dogs know their job, so let them take the lead.”
The dogs took off, snouts to the ground. The handlers and dogs were all equipped with GPS and Sheppard could follow their signals on his phone. He raised his binoculars and scanned the dark street for movement, anything off kilter. He rubbed his stiff neck and dropped his head back to stretch it. Long hours, not enough sleep, and constant worry about Mira, he thought. He felt it throughout his body.
Suddenly, he saw something in the sky that shouldn’t have been there. A bird with a huge wingspan, flying at about a thousand feet, a giant against the starlight. The condor, he thought, it had to be.
“Frank. You see it?”
“Shit. Yeah.”
Sheppard heard the awe in his voice. “It looks like it’s circling down in Golden Hills. About half a mile from here. Carlos and his team are just arriving. I’ll alert them and get over there.”
“If you need backup, holler. Otherwise we’ll meet you.”
2
Sheppard drove like a madman toward Golden Hills, kept the headlights off, and hoped to hell he didn’t hit a giant pothole. He no longer saw the condor.
He radioed Delgado. “I spotted the condor. It looked like she was circling down into your area.”
“I knew something had happened. Nigel started whining and pawing at the door. We’re just pulling in.”
“I’m nearly there.”
“If it’s her, if it’s really that crow, the TASERS are loaded,” Delgado said. “I’ve also got a couple syringes of morphine for her.”
“We’ll have to shoot her when she’s low or on the ground, otherwise the fall could kill her.”
“I’ll alert the others.”
Sheppard entered Golden Hills, a wealthy neighborhood with sprawling homes on properties of three or more acres. He stopped next to Delgado’s car, leaped out and ran over to him and Nigel, already straining at his leash. Delgado passed him a TASER. “O’Hara and Annie and Goot are on their way with backups.”
“Let Nigel do his thing.” Sheppard took the dog’s leash, but Nigel didn’t move. His snout moved through the air, sniffing, tracking scents, then he abruptly lunged forward, jerking the leash from Sheppard’s hand. He tore up the block and across the street toward one of the mansions set back from the road.
“I think he’s got it, Shep,” Delgado whispered.
They raced after him and approached the house on the darkest side, at the south. Nigel moved slowly, cautiously, snout to the ground, tail tucked between his legs. Sheppard didn’t reach for his leash. A side door stood open. They paused outside and when Nigel moved slowly and cautiously inside, they were right behind him.
They stepped into a utility room.
Then Nigel tore away from them, barking excitedly, and ran out into the massive living room and greeted Liz the shifter like a long-lost friend. Human again, she threw open her arms, and squealed, “Nigel!” He leaped at her, barking, licking her madly, and she laughed and got down on the floor with him.
Of course. When Mira had taken Nigel for a walk and they’d ended up at the pharmacy where Hal had taken her hostage, Liz had been with him. Nigel had met Liz then. Sheppard had heard Liz’s voice on Mira’s recording.
Right now, Liz didn’t seem aware of their presence, but maybe that had been Nigel’s intention. Delgado thumbed right, Sheppard nodded left and moved in closer, his TASER aimed at her.
“Liz,” Sheppard said.
Her head snapped up. She kept stroking Nigel but didn’t stand. “Agent Sheppard. And Detective Delgado. How foolish of you both to come here.”
“I think it’s the other way around,” Sheppard said. “Where are they?”
She laughed. “Not for you guys to know.”
With that, her hair started disappearing, feathers sprouted from her head, and Nigel freaked. Barking wildly, he backed away from her, and Sheppard caught his leash and pulled him to his side and fired. The TASER hit her in the leg, but didn’t affect her at all. She made a cackling sound, part human, mostly bird. Her head was now that of a condor, beak, feathers, eyes, and all, and Delgado moved in closer and fired. His shot hit her in the back and by then, her arms and hands had been absorbed into the condor’s body and she shuddered and squealed and continued to transform.
As she was falling to the side, her wings fluttered, one of them started opening and struck a large floor lamp. The blow apparently injured the wing and Delgado had his chance. He moved in swiftly and jabbed the needle into the condor’s side and she slumped to the floor, only partially transformed.
Liz still had human shoulders, but her limbs had been absorbed completely into the front of her condor body. She still had her human hips and butt, but only one condor leg had emerged, claws fully formed. And her head was that of a condor. She looked like something in a carnie show, a 1950s horror movie, an episode of Twilight Zone.
“Jesus.” Delgado pulled out the syringe, dropped it in a nearby wastebasket, and backed rapidly away from her, as if whatever had happened to her might be contagious.
“Bizarre,” Sheppard said. “Fucking bizarre. She’s still breathing.”
“What the hell are we going to do with her?”
“Before we figure that out, I’d like to know why she was here alone. Was she looking for something? Or someone? I’m going to check out the rest of the house. We don’t know how long that morphine will last, so keep your weapon handy, Carlos.”
“Count on it. I’ll text the others.”
Sheppard moved out of the front room, Nigel trotting alongside him, and entered the huge kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink, more dishes were on the table, the counter, and the dishwasher door was open and partially stacked. Apparently Liz hadn’t been here alone. In the pool area, the hot tub was still on, water bubbling, steam rising from it. Several empty wine glasses stood on the wide edge of the tub and shards of glass littered the patio floor around it. A broken wine bottle. Or several. The screen had been torn open. The Crows had been enjoying some twenty-first-century pursuits, he thought, and something unexpected had happened.
“C’mon, Nigel, let’s check out the bedrooms.”
He sniffed through the patio, tail wagging, and darted back into the house, following a scent down the hallway. They passed one room where it looked as if Hal had let loose—just about everything had been liquified, including part of the floor, where a huge hole had opened in the middle of it. Nigel turned away from the bedrooms and sniffed his way back up the hall. In the kitchen, he stopped in front of the fridge and barked.
Sheppard open the fridge door. Nothing unusual in here, just a ton of food. Nigel barked again and stuck his snout between the fridge and the edge of the counter and Sheppard spotted Rincon’s medical bag wedged into the space. It looked as if it had slipped off the counter with some dish towels.
“Good boy, Nigel.” Sheppard opened the medical bag, revealing a variety of antibiotics and supplies that included several syringes of morphine.
A black and white cat darted in from somewhere and went up to Nigel, rubbing its head against his snout. Nigel licked it, the cat came over to Sheppard and snaked between his legs, purring loudly. Sheppard picked him up. “Where’d you come from, guy? Did you get left behind by your humans or by Hal?”
Then the cat heard voices and jumped out of his arms and darted away.
The others had arrived. In the front room, Sheppard found O’Hara moving around Liz, snapping photos of her, Gutierrez and Keel were readying a body bag, and Annie was crouched next to Liz, stroking the feathers on her skull and wings.
“She came back for this.” Sheppard held up what he’d found. “Ian’s medical bag. I think it means the injured Crow is still ailing, that Ian’s alive because he can treat the Crow, and if Ian’s alive, I think Mira is, too. We should divvy up these syringes of morphine.”
“I don’t suppose Liz told you anything before you put her out?” Annie asked.
“Only that we were making a big mistake,” Delgado replied.
“Yeah, right.”
Keel and Gutierrez drew the body bag up over Liz, but kept her head free. Keel glanced up. “This seems like the safest way to transport her.”
“To where?” O’Hara asked.
Since she’d come back to get Rincon’s medical bag, Sheppard thought, then presumably Hal and the others knew this. When she didn’t show up, it was likely they would come here to find her. So it made sense to move Liz elsewhere and set up a trap for the Crows in this house. But what kind of trap? If the Crows were killed, he might never find out where Mira and Rincon were being held.
“I think the safest thing is to move her to the bureau’s cell block with Hull and Eden,” Sheppard said.
Keel grinned. “Ha. What horror Rudy will go through, having one of these crows in the cell block.”
Sheppard went on. “Once we’ve moved her, how about if you post an update to the Gazette site, Jon, that one of the crows has been captured and the police are open to negotiating an exchange. If they’re interested, they should email you since you’ve already included your address in earlier posts.”
“Wow,” O’Hara exclaimed. “I like it.”
“Where would this exchange take place?” Annie asked.
“We would work that out,” Delgado said. “Yeah, let’s try it.”
“I’m in,” Keel said. “Goot?”
“In.”
“C’mon,” Annie burst out. “Mom and Ian aren’t sitting around hoping to be saved and liberated. You can be damn sure they’ve got a plan. Or maybe they’ve already pulled it off and are free.”
“Unless they’re trying to beat them from within. But even if they’re free now, it would be all the more reason for Hal to try to negotiate an exchange.” Sheppard glanced around, no one disagreed. “Let’s get Liz moved.”
3
“Is there any chicken soup in this apartment?” Rincon asked.
Mira suspected he was thinking the same thing she was, that the absence of his medical bag might present them with an unexpected opportunity and that the crow’s ignorance of this century might be used against them. Might, of course, was the operative word.
Her erratic ability and Cam’s talent for profound camouflage could be powerful weapons. But first, they had to outwit Hal and his Crows. The ignorance weapon.
“I saw some soup in the pantry earlier.” Along with a zillion other cans, all of the center’s hurricane supplies, Mira thought.
“He’s still hot,” Cam said, touching his hand to Squirt’s forehead.
Squirt sipped at his glass of Gatorade. “Not as hot as before. The fever’s going down. I think the drugs are working.”
Rincon shook his head. “You shouldn’t even have a fever by now. The chicken soup will help fortify you.”
Trixie opened the pantry door and whistled softly. “Wow, I’ve never seen so much stuff jammed into a closet like this. Lotta cans in here. We didn’t have cans in the dome. Where’s the chicken soup, hostage bitch?”
“Third shelf down, I think that’s where I saw it.”
“Show me.”
Mira pushed back from the table, went over to the pantry, found half a dozen cans of chicken soup, set them on the counter next to Trixie. “There you go. Soup for all of us.”
“We busted a bunch of these in the market. What a mess that left. So what do I do with them?”
Did she really ask that? “Heat them up in a saucepan.”
Trixie returned to the counter, got out two large saucepans, filled them with water, turned on a pair of burners. She set the six unopened cans in the pots. Mira and Rincon exchanged a quick glance.
“While the soup’s getting warm, we’ll wait for Liz to get back here with Dr. Rincon’s medical bag,” Hal said.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Red asked. “I really need to pee.”
“And I’d like to shower,” Trixie said.
Two more down? “Up the hall,” Mira replied. “Off the bedroom.”
Trixie glanced toward the pitch-black hall. “Uh-uh. Too damn black.”
“The power for that part of the apartment has been turned off. I’ll get it.” Mira walked with them to the kitchen doorway, opened the wall panel, and flicked on the switch that controlled the lights at the back of the apartment. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Trixie nodded. “I hate the dark. Once, the Normals stuck me in a dark place for weeks.”
“Well, there’s plenty of light back there now,” Mira said.
As Red and Trixie vanished around the corner and into the hall, Mira quickly glanced back at the other three, all of them engaged in something. She quietly shut the hallway door and turned the lock in the knob. It might buy them fifteen seconds before Trixie tore the door off the hinges or Red set fire to it.
Three down and three to go. Nico, Squirt, Hal.
Nico wouldn’t be a problem unless he rendered himself and the others invisible. Squirt wasn’t physically capable of much of anything right now. Hal was the problem. Hal had been the problem from the beginning.
Hal and Nico slapped together bulging sandwiches slathered in both mustard and ketchup. Hal glanced over at Rincon. “Is that Gatorade stuff, like, from an alligator?”
Rincon chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It’s a drink with electrolytes in it—minerals with an electric charge. It’ll be good for Nico.”
“It better not be a trick, old man.” Hal’s voice promised repercussions.
“Google it,” Rincon told him.
Hal did and nodded. “Not a trick.”
“Food smells fantastic, Hal,” Squirt said, then folded his arms on the table and rested his head against them.
“Soup first for you. It’ll help.” Rincon went over to the stove and fiddled with the controls. “It shouldn’t be taking this long.”
“We need plates for the sandwiches,” Nico said. “And bowls, right? Or do we eat out of the cans?”
“I’ll get the bowls,” Cam said. “I’m taller. I can reach them.”
“Pass them over,” Mira said. “I’ll set the table.”
Hal glanced back at her, suspicion nested in his eyes. “All of a sudden you’re compliant, Mira?”
“I’m famished,” she replied.
Hal had left his cell on the table and as Mira set out the bowls and silverware, she noticed it was still unlocked, a generic photo of a sunset as the screen saver. Touch settings, phone and find his number. The thought seemed random and stupid when she could just as easily pocket the phone. But she paid attention. Squirt was still resting his head in his arms and Nico and Hal were fussing with the food, their backs turned to her, so she touched settings, quickly scrolled down to phone, and memorized his number. 305-362-7804.
In that brief touch, an impression came to her of Hal with a female Crow, a brunette whom he loved. Wind, Red’s sister. She moved away from his cell and finished setting the table. “Who’s Wind?”
Hal glanced back at her and when he spoke, his tone was sharp, defensive. “None of your goddamn business.”
Red reappeared, which meant the lock on the hallway door didn’t work, Mira thought. “Wind’s my sister,” Red said. “She didn’t make it. But that’s not psychic. You heard all that outside, when Cam looked like Wind.” She laughed. “You’re no more psychic than I am, Mira.”
“Hey, my fingers don’t spit fire. That makes you more psychic than me, Red.”
Looking indignant, Red snapped. “I evolved like this. You developed your ability. That’s the big difference between us.”
Yeah? Really?
The water in the saucepan started to boil. Mira looked over at Rincon and he tilted his head toward the door, his expression screaming, As soon as the cans of soup explode, run like hell.
Cam moved to the fridge and opened it, the door a barrier between him and the stove, and looked back at Mira and Rincon. He gave a quick nod. Her heart hammered. Do what you have to.
When the six cans blew apart simultaneously, chicken noodle soup exploded against the ceiling, the stove, the walls, and in the faces of both Red and Hal. He yelped and danced around, swiping frantically at his eyes. She squealed and rubbed at her eyes. Mira grabbed the closest chair and swung it at Hal. It smacked him in the back and he fell sideways, screaming, “My eyes, my eyes!” He slammed to the floor and went still.
Mira swung again and the chair struck Red in the shoulder and she cried out and stumbled forward. Another swing of the chair brought her down.
Before Nico could spin around, Rincon swung a chair at the back of his knees. He gasped, his legs crumpled, and his head slammed against the sink and cabinet as he went down, knocking him out.
Noodles and bits of chicken that clung to the ceiling started dropping. Squirt tried to get up from the table, but was still so weak his feet slid through puddles of soup. Cam locked his arm around the kid’s neck and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“Fast!” Rincon hissed. “Before Trixie shows up.”
The three of them ran for the door. Mira worried that any second now Trixie would come barreling after them or that Hal hadn’t been knocked out completely and was already rousing himself from the floor. But they made it through the front gate of the dolphin center and into the road. The Crows’ SUV was parked off to the side of the building, so they raced away from it, into the trees, and turned south toward downtown Tango and Rincon’s office.
Distantly, she heard the mournful songs of the two remaining dolphins that Annie had cared for. Had they gone back for their dead friend? In her head, she could see Hal liquifying that dolphin as it was in midair. Its terrible squeals of agony would echo within her forever.
Next time, fucker.