by Jade Alters
I give a wry smile. Dane has always been like this. Even among our own kind, he was antisocial and rude. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected more from him when we’re among humans, the beings that could, and did, almost hunt our kind to extinction.
I roll my shoulders. They feel raw, reminding me of how long it has been since I last stretched my hidden wings. But it was, unfortunately, far too dangerous.
“Ready to care for the chicks?” Dane asks after a moment.
We make our way into the barn. This is the place we don’t allow anyone else to see, because it would prove, once and for all, that we weren’t as human as we pretended.
Dane and I are human phoenixes. It’s been a hard life, and our parents were killed in a raid by Hunters when we were small, forcing us to flee. Since then, we’ve never come across another human phoenix, though we know they must be out there somewhere.
However, we have come across other phoenix creatures, creatures that we had only before heard tell of in the stories our parents had once told us. Birds that could fly into the sun, if they so wished, sea animals that glowed like flame beneath the water, foxes that could sprout wings and fly. They all had one thing in common; they, like us, were born with the power of the phoenix.
It was for these creatures that my brother and I had started this farm. We wanted to protect them, and the small town of Mundaring had provided us with the perfect cover. They didn’t need much care, either; all they needed was plenty of warmth and a mixture of trail mix made up of ash and oats. When they are old enough and strong enough to survive, we let them go out into the world to live their lives, hopefully free from those that would destroy them.
I slide the barn door open. It’s very bright in here, the windows facing out every way to always catch the sun, no matter where in the sky it was. On the walls, Dane and I had installed heaters, silent for now but very useful during winter. I can hear snuffling nearby, and I smile as I kneel down, waiting as a small black nose pokes itself curiously from behind a barrel.
“Food time,” I call softly.
I’m mostly ignored. The phoenixes prefer to keep to themselves, and this is a new batch of young creatures we’re raising, so they aren’t entirely sure if we’re trustworthy yet. Once we leave, they will fall on the food with gusto.
One of the creatures, however, barely leaves our side whenever we enter the barn. My grin widens as a tiny red panda tumbles into view, snuffling on the ground before looking up at us with wide, curious eyes. At first glance, the animal looks ordinary, if out of place in Australia, where it shouldn’t be native, but Dane and I had witnessed this one bursting into flame for ourselves.
“Hungry?” I ask.
The red panda scurries forward, and she rubs her head on my outstretched hand eagerly, making me laugh. She’s definitely a sweetheart.
It doesn’t take us long to put the food down and then we bid farewell to the panda before leaving. As we close the barn door, I startle as I hear the sound of a loud clang over the road.
When I look back, Dane is giving me a severe look.
“It’s none of our business, Warwick,” he says.
“It might be nice to know more about our new neighbour,” I point out. “You know, to make sure she isn’t a plant.”
“Is there a reason someone might have found us here?” Dane asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Come on, man, I’ve been as careful as you,” I remind him. “I’m just saying that we have a lot of rare creatures in our barn, and you know it won’t take much for them to catch our trail.”
We both shudder in unison. They are the Supernaturals, a loose collective of creatures and immortals who capture and use their own kind; so much worse than any Hunter could be. Supernaturals care only about themselves and their allegiances are temporary at best. At least a Hunter, should we be caught, would offer us a quick, merciful death. Supernaturals, however, will draw it out, forcing us to do their bidding until they have no more use for us.
“It might be worth finding out who she is,” Dane grumbles. He shoots me a glare. “One visit. Just one.”
“She’s human, Dane,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m not going to stay any longer than necessary.”
Warwick
Maybe, if I had told Dane about how oddly captivating the woman’s green eyes had been, he would have had far more misgivings over allowing me to be the one to meet her. But I didn’t tell him; it had just been a momentary spell bought on by the heat and the surprise of suddenly seeing her.
I told myself this right up until the moment she opened her front door after I knocked.
“Hello?” she asks.
I’m momentarily struck dumb. The sun is just beginning to rise up behind me, and the golden rays play on her tanned skin, making her eyes gleam. She’s not wearing a hat any longer, so I can see her hair, still down and curling softly around her ears, full and healthy. She’s taller than she had looked from a distance, and her figure was lithe and strong.
“Hello,” I finally rouse myself to say. “I live across the road. I saw you had moved in yesterday.”
“The night before, actually,” she says, shrugging, her voice dismissive. “Did you know my father?”
She was the daughter of the previous owner, then. I’m suddenly incredibly curious as to why this was the very first time I’d ever seen her in all these years.
“We were acquainted,” I reply. “We live – lived – across the road from one another. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Right.” She doesn’t seem cut up about the death, though something dark flits across her face for a moment before disappearing. “Anyway, can I help you?”
“I thought I’d just come and say hello,” I say, taken aback by her coldness; her manner could give Dane’s frostiness a run for its money. “And to see if you need any help.”
She blinks, looking surprised at the offer. I look a little closer. Beyond her beautiful looks, there was something very sad about her. Her shoulders were tense and slightly hunched, and I get the impression that she’s carrying some sort of huge burden.
And there’s something odd about her, something that draws me to her. I’m fascinated, by her appearance, about the reason she’s here, and by whatever secrets she seems to be hiding from the rest of the world. I want to know more.
She bites her lip for a moment, thinking.
“Do you know how to milk a cow?” she finally asks reluctantly. “I’ve never done it.”
Somehow, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I blink twice before grinning at her. I’m not surprised when she doesn’t smile back.
“I can show you,” I agree readily. Dane is going to absolutely kill me. “I’m Warwick, by the way.”
“I’m Luciana,” the woman says. “Let me grab my coat and we can go out.”
She slips back inside and slams the door. I fight the urge to look back toward my own house; I’ve no doubt that Dane is currently standing at the window, waiting for me to return and wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Before I can reconsider my offer, the door opens again and Luciana is standing there, now in boots, tugging her jacket over her shoulders.
“This way,” she says. “All the animals are around the back.”
“I know,” I say, hurrying to catch up to her as she starts walking. “Old Man Marty used to get me and my brother around to help him, sometimes, especially in his last months, so I’ve met them all. Do you like animals?”
“Never owned one,” she says shortly with a shrug.
I stare at her.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, confused.
She scowls at me.
“Not that it’s your business, but I inherited the property,” she says. “I came here to look at it and found the animals since dear dad couldn’t be bothered to tell me he had a damn menagerie out here, himself.”
There was a lot of bitterness in her voice. But she shakes her head and doubles her pace, forcing me to keep up with her lest I fall
behind.
As we cross the fields, I can see the animals roaming around. I’ve helped care for every single one of them. Maybe I should offer to help Luciana for a little while, since I likely know these animals far better than she does.
A voice in the back of my mind that sounds very like Dane reminds me that this is an incredibly bad idea. Luciana is human and I am not. Having a connection with the old man was different, especially since he almost seemed half way to senile. But Luciana was young and strong and, to be honest, I didn’t know if she was really telling the truth about the inheritance. For all I know, she could absolutely be faking it, getting ready to stab Dane and I in our beds in the middle of the night…
“Watch out!”
I blink and return to the present world just in time to run straight into the closed barn door.
“Fuck!” I yelp, leaping backwards and covering my nose immediately.
There’s a snort of humour and I glance over to see Luciana starting to smile. I glare at her through clumsy eyes. That hurt.
“Pay more attention next time,” she says. “Do you want me to help?”
I keep my hand firmly clamped over my nose, hiding it from view.
“No, it’s just sore,” I lie.
My nose is most definitely broken, I hit the door that hard. But there’s no way I can remove my hand and risk Luciana seeing the small flames that are currently playing out across the injured area. By the time I remove my hand, there will be just a bruise.
“Good,” Lucia says, and her smile drops, which is a shame because she looked so much prettier with it. “Be more careful.”
She opens the barn door. Instantly, I’m assaulted with the unique animal smell that our own barn has. This one is slightly different; after all, Dane and I don’t keep cows or sheep, yet there are plenty here, despite the fact that the side door is open so that they can mill around.
“So?” Luciana asks, glancing at me.
“Which cows are ready to be milked?” I ask.
She stares at me blankly.
“What the hell did your dad teach you?” I ask, stunned; how the hell could the man leave all these animals to a daughter who doesn’t have the first clue on how to care for them all?
“He didn’t teach me anything,” she snaps back with a fierce glare
I stare into her emerald eyes, drawn once more to their glitter, before I shake myself.
“Sorry,” I say. “Show me the cows and I’ll teach you.”
Appeased, Lucia takes me over to a large section of the barn where four cows are milling around. Three of them are completely normal. The fourth, however, was a Peryton.
I stop and gape.
“Where did your father find a Peryton?” I breathe, awed.
“Something his journal will hopefully answer one of these days,” Luciana sighs. “She’s calm, so you can approach the cows.”
The Peryton didn’t even look up as we neared, her wings rustling along the ground as she inspects the wall. The cows look up at us and then away, similarly disinterested.
These animals are all perfectly acclimatised to humans. Even if we weren’t people that they recognised, they still had it in their heads that we were not a threat at all. Even the Peryton, a usually skittish creature, was perfectly calm at our arrival.
“So, what do we do here?” Luciana asks, drawing my attention to the cows.
“Have any of these cows had a baby?” I ask.
“Yes, two of them,” Luciana says with a frown. “Why?”
“Cows can’t actually produce milk without giving birth first,” I explain.
“Seriously?” Luciana asks, looking utterly shocked.
“She produces milk to feed her young, mainly,” I say. “Have you been allowing that?”
“Of course,” Luciana says instantly, sounding offended. “I’m not a monster.”
I laugh.
“A lot of people take the babies from the mother so that they can get the milk,” I explain. “Come on, I’ll show you how to actually do this. Grab that bucket and stool.”
We get a length of rope and secure the cow to the stall so she wouldn’t wander off. By how intently she’s eating, however, I doubt we’ll have any problem with that at all. I look underneath, at the udder.
“We need to be gentle and slow,” I tell Luciana, lowering my voice to a quiet, soothing tone. “The last thing we want is for her to kick us.”
Luciana, who was about to kneel next to me, freezes. She suddenly looks far warier about approaching the cow from behind.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassure. “Come on.”
Slowly, looking like she would rather be anywhere than here, Luciana sits down on the short, sturdy stool she found, the bucket at her feet.
“Milking a cow isn’t as easy as people make it look,” I say. “It looks like you gave her a wash this morning, so her udder is clean, which is good. Now, do you have any rubber gloves?”
“Uh…” Luciana looks around. “I think my father kept them on a shelf in here…”
After a moment, we find the shelf tucked away in the corner. The box of gloves is stashed with everything else that has been piled on there, and I hear Luciana mutter something under her breath about chaotically messy fathers.
“Put these on,” I say to her, taking a pair for myself. When we’re settled around, I wrap my hand lightly around a teat. “Alright, we have to strip it first.” Luciana goes faintly green and I roll my eyes at her. “Not what you’re thinking, city girl. We just need to give each teat a few tugs to let any dirty milk out first.”
Luciana leans forward slightly as I tug expertly on the teat and twisting my wrist, pinching the teat just enough for a small squirt of milk to splash on the barn floor. The cow shifts a little, likely at the odd sensation, but otherwise doesn’t seem to care.
“Suddenly, this seems a little gross,” Luciana says with a reluctant smile.
“Most farm work is,” I grin at her. “Better get used to that if you stay here.”
Luciana smiles slightly at that. I’m suddenly filled with the burning desire to ask her if she is going to stay. My concentration on the cow slips and I lean forward, my mouth opening.
Several things happen at once. I tug too hard on the teat, making milk spray out in a thin stream. My hand has moved as I did, and the teat is now pointing at me, and I jerk backwards at the unexpected sensation, accidentally grabbing the teat too tight. The cow moos deeply, and I know I’ve caused her some pain.
Luciana, startled, jumps to her feet and knocks the metal bucket over. This is enough for the poor cow, she kicks out, missing us both but getting the stool, which Luciana falls over with a yelp, reaching up to grab at me. But I’m still trying to wipe the milk off and, when Luciana’s hand catches my shirt and tugs, I lose my balance too.
We both go down in a flail of limbs and squawks, trying to move away from each other while, at the same time, getting ourselves more and more tangled. It’s stupid and childish, and I feel a zing of attraction shoot me as her lower body shifts against mine, unintentionally rubbing against me.
Feeling myself start to harden like an inexperienced adolescent boy, I panic and shove her away, finally freeing us from one another. We both scramble back and stare, panting.
Luciana is a mess. Hay and dirt are all through her hair and some of the milk that was on the ground made it to her shirt. My eyes are drawn to a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and I can’t help but think how attractive she is right now.
As for me, I doubt I look my best. In hindsight, I’m hoping this will probably all be very funny. Right now, however, a scowl is crossing Luciana’s face.
“What the hell was that?” she demands.
“Unfortunate,” I quip, the word spilling from my lips before my brain can tell me to stop.
It was definitely the wrong thing to say. Luciana stands and brushes herself off as much as she can, glaring.
“Thank you for your offer to help, but I think you need to go,” she
says.
Well, this is definitely a record. I’ve never actually been kicked out of a woman’s house on the first day we met. I feel like a fool, especially since everything about that accident was my fault.
“Right,” I say. “I’ll see you around.”
I turn and I’m not surprised when I hear her mutter ‘I hope not’ as I leave. That could definitely have gone better.
So much for trying to help. All I’m left with now is a neighbour that doesn’t want to see me, and a pissed off brother who will probably lecture me the moment I walk through the door.
I sigh and walk away. I’ll try and apologise to Luciana another day. For now, I need to try and placate my brother and get over my embarrassment.
Luciana
Caring for the horses
· Regular exercises are needed; if you don’t ride them, make sure they have a large enough area to roam in
· On clear days, allow them to roam in the field
· Make sure there is a good, clean supply of hay in their stalls at all times
· Keep their water clean and filled
· Speak to Kain Johns about trimming hooves every six weeks
· I’ve written the name of our horse’s dentist and doctor; check with them regarding their teeth, vaccinations and general health care as soon as you can
· Check on them daily
*For Rainbow, she must stretch her wings at least once a day in the yard. If she refuses to do so herself, you will have to help her
I sigh and close the journal, rubbing my temples. So much information. I never even knew horse hooves needed to be trimmed, and I have no idea how to tell if a horse’s teeth are normal or not.
And that’s not even beginning to talk about the damn Pegasus that had almost given me a heart attack the first time I met all the horses. My father hadn’t written anything about a special dentist or doctor for Rainbow, so maybe the numbers I’ve got already knew about them.
I slump back in my chair and look unseeingly up at the ceiling. Just how many people were actually aware of this entire thing? As far as I knew, a Pegasus and a Peryton were mythical creatures, and I had continued on in that assumption until I found them in the barn. And there’s many, many other creatures here that really shouldn’t exist.
