Page 58 of Corvus and the Broken God

“Yes, don’t you?”

“I only bought it because milk won’t keep up at the big house. It’s filled with chemicals and isn’t remotely good for you.”

“Yes, but it tastes good. And processed sugar and food-based chemicals won’t be the death of me, dear Corvus. If you had any idea of the things I’ve eaten in my life.”

“Spare me. Please. So, what’s the plan for today? Any other friends you want me to meet?”

“No, today we fly. We need to get close to the meeting place and see if we can spot our enemies. So, eat up. You will need your energy.”

“Did Hiroshi have anything helpful to tell you yesterday? You sure talked a lot.”

“Yes, about half of the summit is already here. I’d like to try to get close to them and see if we can’t prepare for whatever they have planned. Despite your theories, he hasn’t overheard anything helpful, since his spies don’t move. But we still have a few days before the summit starts.”

“Okay, what are we going as? Eagles?”

“Seagulls.”

“I knew it.” But my opinion of birds in general had been so altered since getting my first pair of wings, I didn’t truly mind.

“We’ll switch into something more dignified when we get close. But in the meantime, I’d like to take you back to the room for a few hours.”

He gave me a lecherous look, and I laughed. Now that we’d broken the seal, my new lover was insatiable. “We won’t need a few hours.”

Half an hour later, we were airborne, leaving the “Do Not Disturb” sign on our door and the sliding door unlocked. Being a seagull meant riding the sea breezes and covering miles of land without much effort. In no time, we were back at Hiroshi’s hut and shed. I knew it instantly as I caught a glimpse of his cenote, and then we were past it. One of the perks that came with my bird bodies was the ability to navigate. I had always been good with spatial mapping, usually knowing my way around wherever I went, despite getting lost in the mountains of Tennessee. But this ability was utterly different. Miles didn’t matter, nor was the fact that I was covering new ground. I knew exactly where I was in the world, and I could even picture my spot on my mental globe, confident of how to find my way back to the hotel and possibly even Tennessee. If I ever got lost again, all I would need to do is change into a bird, preferably one that migrated, and I’d quickly be back on the right track.

The air was warmer than the mountain air I was used to, and we were working toward a specific destination instead of playing in the thermals. My companion kept his thoughts to himself, but I picked up on his anxiety now and again. So far, mine had been kept in check by denial. As long as we weren’t there yet, they couldn’t hurt us.

The sun continued its daily trek and was about halfway down to the western horizon when my Monster slowed his flight, circled, and landed in a tree.

We are too far inland now to be shorebirds. Watch me and change. You’ll need human eyes to get the color right.

I changed only my eyes and watched closely as his short white feathers extended and turned dark. The pale chest feathers developed speckles as his chest expanded. Then, a heartbeat later, he transformed into a falcon.

Peregrine falcon?

Fastest birds in the sky.

Did you choose this breed on my account? To keep me safe?

No, why? But he seemed squirrely. What are you waiting for, Corvus? Is it not odd for a seagull and a falcon to sit conversing in a tree?

How often do you see two falcons conversing in a tree? Look, Benji, I haven’t known you more than a few weeks, two months now, but even I could have guessed this form as one you’d take.

What are you saying, Corvus?

I’m saying pick a different bird. One that wouldn’t look suspicious on your enemy’s tree, and preferably something more social so we can stick together if we choose to.

Are you saying you want to hang out on my branch after all?

It wasn’t easy to roll my eyes as set apart as they were, but I gave it my best try. When I looked back at him, he was already mid-change. Tightly knit feathers shot out into loose, wide plumes; his body didn’t shrink, instead growing larger. But before I could protest, we were supposed to be spying and doing our best not to be noticed, his feathers burst into a bright green splash of color. He was all green with bright blue accents on his wings and a red ring around his eye. I opened my beak in delight to see him as a parrot.

I studied his markings carefully and then attempted my own change while he tried out his vocal cords. Nearby birds answered his call, and his parrot face looked delighted. His expression was so endearing that no one would ever mistake him for the fearsome god of the Mayan underworld.

Is this better then, Corvus?

Much better.

Well, Yucatan parrots are social, and there is something else you need to know about them.