Page 106

“Lower. No! To the left. My left, not your left!”

Tempest tilted her head to read it. The Wildernest Tavern. It shared a wall with the flower shop next door, and the ivy the florist had planted was already making its own decisions about where it wanted to grow. The stones of the facade were old and smooth. Small brass lamps glowed in the windows. It was perfect. She was happy for Dan.

“We can come back and stop by later if you like,” Priya said. “My uncle is waiting, though. We should hurry.”

Tempest wasn’t sure what she’d say. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before they walked on.

Dr Dvita’s office was on the second story of a Victorian house directly across the street from the famous Mudpuddle Mansion. He came out to greet them himself, a compact, round, unhurried man with reading glasses pushed up on his forehead and the morning newspaper tucked into his coat pocket. He showed them through to his exam room, where a proper parrot’s perch had been set up beside the examination table. He held out his elbow to Fortune. She must have decided she liked him, because she hopped right on.

“Now, did Priya tell you that I grew up in Primrose Court?” he asked, settling Fortune onto the perch with practiced ease. “My mother’s family was here for three generations. The squirrels have been running their monthly book club meetings in the attic of this house since before I was born.” He glanced out the window toward the bookshop. “It was such a treat, growing up next to The Mudpuddle.” He paused to look at Tempest. “Did Priya mention I was Maida Westabrook’s doctor when she was small? It’s so good to see the place thriving under her care.”

“I can’t wait to visit,” Tempest said.

“Well then, let’s have a look at this magnificent creature so you can both be on your way and grab a coffee at the bookshop cafe.”

He did not rush through his examination of Fortune. He produced calipers and a measuring tape. He used his ophthalmoscope to look into her eyes. He offered her a series of treats. The bird turned her nose up at sunflower seeds and mango but lunged hungrily at a bit of dried kipper. The doctor sucked in a breath and made a tutting noise. He noted something on her chart.

“How long have you had this bird?” he asked.

Tempest explained she wasn’t sure. She’d had Fortune since she was a small child. She believed the bird had been her mother’s before that.

“When did you first notice her feathers beginning to change?”

“A few months ago. Before the book signing. I wasn’t as worried about her then. I just thought it was a passing phase, maybe a sign of her age.”

“And was the progression gradual or sudden?”

“Gradual at first. More sudden over the last week.”

“Right.” He laid his clipboard down. “Are there any significant dates coming up soon? For either of you?”

Priya, who had been sitting silently through the exam, could no longer hold her tongue. “It’s Tempest’s birthday this week. Her thirty-third.”

“Is that so?” He looked at Tempest for confirmation. “You’ll be turning thirty-three on Samhain?”

“Yes.” Tempest nodded. She had butterflies in her stomach until the doctor clapped his hands together and smiled.

“Most auspicious. Most auspicious indeed!” He nodded, as though this confirmed something. Then he noticed Tempest shifting uncomfortably, wrapping and unwrapping the handles of her handbag around her hand.

“Show me your hands?” the doctor asked.

He sat back after examining them, folded his arms across his chest and sighed. He seemed to have reached a conclusion. They did not have to wait long to hear his verdict.

“You’ve both been bound. For a very long time, it seems. Long enough that you don’t have any memory of your life before it. I can see that in your palms. Someone bound both you and your bird, and it is coming undone now. Nothing to worry about. It’s like sutures dissolving.” He paused. “You don’t need to take any medicine or address it. The body does this work on its own eventually. Most bindings cast in childhood cannot hold past the age of magical majority. We can wait and let it finish, or we can help it along. That’s your decision to make.”

Tempest looked at Fortune on the perch. Fortune looked back. She was speechless. Fortune made a small hooting sound.

“Who would have done this to her?” Priya was aghast.

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you that. Binding is a secretive act. The practitioner rarely signs their work.”

“There must have been something terribly wrong with me,” Tempest whispered. All her life she had suspected as much. Binding, as a practice, was reserved for extreme cases. Dangerous people. Monsters.

Priya placed a fiercely protective arm around her. “Don’t be ridiculous. There has never been anything wrong with you.”

“Then why?” Tempest choked on the words. “And what happens to her?” She stared at Fortune, who was happily chomping on another dried kipper.

“Tempest, my dear.” The doctor held her hands in his leathery ones. “I cannot see any signs of anything being fundamentally wrong with you or your familiar. She is actually quite a remarkable specimen. She may be a psychopomp. I haven’t seen one in ages.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pipe, twirling the stem between two fingers.