Page 68

Just do your part, and I’ll do mine, the brolga said imperiously.

Its attitude was annoying, but reassuring.

Maybe I should shift now, and let it take care of the whole ‘jumping out of the helicopter’ thing, she mused.

Don’t be ridiculous, another voice inside her head responded. Remember all the stupid shit you used to do when you were younger without thinking twice? Are you really going to prove to that girl that you’ve turned into a boring old fart?

Age brings wisdom, she argued with herself… but, she kind of had to agree. She’d gotten too comfortable in her… well, not her old age, she hoped. Her middle age, anyway.

She could ask Liam to find somewhere to land, but then she would have wait for him to get clearance, and then she’d have to make her way back to the trap that was waiting for her, and the thought that something might happen to Robb while she was faffing around was more than she could bear.

Bugger it. I’m going to do it.

It had been way too long since she’d felt a dose of healthy fear, and then done something incredibly stupid anyway. She kind of missed it.

Pulling off her helmet and handing it to Liam, she took a deep breath as she steeled herself, before giving Liam the thumbs-up.

Her hair whipped about her face as she unbuckled her belt, before she moved to the edge of the doorway, and did her best to ignore the thwop-thwop-thwop of the blades directly overhead.

Well, here goes nothing.

She closed her eyes for a moment… and then let herself fall.

I really had nothing to worry about. The exact opposite, in fact.

The downdraft from the blades pushed her towards the earth, and she took a moment to enjoy the sensation of freefall in her human form, an entirely different kind of adrenaline rush than flying in her brolga form. It was just the bright city below and the endless black sky above, and Tahnee a tiny, meaningless speck plummeting from one to the other.

There was a fine line between recklessness and stupidity, however, and Tahnee shifted after a few seconds, letting the brolga take over. The plummet became a glide, and the pounding of her heart became the easy freedom of the cold night air beneath her wings.

Don’t get distracted, she told herself, once the initial giddy rush had worn off. This is only step one out of about a million.

She’d been doing her best to not think about Robb during the flight down, given that there had been nothing she could do during that time – but now that his life was potentially in her hands, thoughts of him crowded her mind once more.

I don’t care whether he dumps me on the spot – I’m going to drag him out of wherever they’re keeping him, she resolved.

Not that she thought he would call things off, given that she was almost certain there had been something dodgy going on with that phone call… but she couldn’t help but be nervous. It had sounded so much like him, and they had only been together for one day. One glorious, wonderful day.

Well. She would deal with that when she got to it. Right now, she needed to go and get herself captured.

She soared over the city, knowing that if anyone spotted a brolga in downtown Melbourne it would likely cause at least a little bit of a comment. Not as much of a comment as Liam’s friend Michael and his mate Shaz had caused a year or so back, when Hargreaves had raided Michael’s den of computer-based iniquity and forced him to flee in quokka form while riding Shaz’s cassowary through the streets of Sydney – that at least had made the news.

But she still knew she had to be careful.

Swooping down into a deserted alley around the corner from the bar Robb had told her to go to, she shifted as she came in to land, her human feet gently touching the ground.

At least it wasn’t raining tonight, the sky deep and clear.

Small mercies, I guess. The only thing worse than getting captured by Hargreaves is being captured by Hargreaves when you have wet socks.

Rounding the corner, she entered the designated bar.

It was pretty ho-hum, the kind of hipster hangout that was a dime a dozen. Not fancy, but not completely shithouse, either.

Faux shithouse, Tahnee thought with what she thought would be the last bit of amusement she’d be feeling for a while. Very Melbourne.

One of the bartenders had pink hair, tattoos, and a pierced septum, while the other one had a mustache and oversized glasses, topped off by a permed mullet with a fade. They both ignored Tahnee as she looked around, trying to locate whoever was giving off the biggest I’m a Hargreaves plant vibe.

In the end, she barely even had to try. The people she was looking for couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried – or if they were sitting under a giant, flashing neon sign reading We’re the guys you’re looking for!