by Judi Fennell
“He doesn’t need to keep up with us,” Livingston said from his regained position on the backseat. “Besides the operatives he’s been amassing, he’s able to find a meal miles away on the open ocean, so I’m sure he boned up on Rod’s scent before embarking on this mission. This damp air is only helping matters, though I’d be surprised if he did anything but report on our progress.”
“Report to whom?”
“That, my dear, is the fifty-thousand clam question. And once we know the answer to that, we’ll know the threat.”
“What threat?” She slowed down to veer around cattle that had escaped from their pasture and had decided to amble down the highway. Mr. Stromer had better check his fence line.
“If we knew why this was happening, we’d stand a chance of figuring out who’s behind it. Until last evening, I was under the impression this was a simple recovery mission.” Rod’s fist thumped the seat.
“Recovery mission? Okay, now I’m totally lost.” Val swiped a trembling hand across her forehead, brushing the hair that had adhered to the sudden perspiration. “Why don’t we just go to the nearest police station and let them handle this? Or the embassy if you really are a prince.” Or the Funny Farm for her…
“Oh, he’s a prince all right,” said Livingston. “You can count on that. As well as the fact that a lot of M—er, people are going to be upset if anything happens to him. And you.”
She pinched herself again—just to check.
Still awake.
The blare of a semi’s horn as it passed confirmed it.
She looked in the mirror. Yep, that most definitely was her. Behind the wheel of her old Sentra, barreling down a two-lane highway with Rod and a talking seagull as her passengers, toothpaste and a cup of coffee only a wish on the horizon.
Chapter 10
“Oh my, Maybelle. What should we do?” Adele did a perfect pirouette on the ledge as Valerie and The Heir ran from the apartment.
With that seagull close behind.
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, Adele.” Maybelle scanned the sky. “Do you see those cowbirds?”
“The ones over by the playground—”
“No.” She swept a wing over Adele’s head, just brushing the top feathers, then pointed her wing to the west. “Those. On the church steeple.”
Adele followed the direction. “Oh. Thoooose.” She twitched her head so her feathers would fall back into place. “What about them?”
“They work for that albatross. He’s behind this.”
“Maybelle, you have such an imagination. Cowbirds don’t work for albatrosses. They’re an entirely different class of avian.”
“I’m telling you, Adele, those cowbirds are working for him. He’s running this show and we need to do something about it. I don’t know why an albatross is gunning for The Heir, but he is not going to succeed on my watch.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop those cowbirds.” Maybelle girded herself for battle by tucking her wings tight against her sides and puffing out that plump breast she was so proud of. “And you’re going to help me.”
Adele looked a little green around the gullet. “Me?” Her chirp sounded more like a chickadee’s than a sparrow’s.
“Yes. You.”
“How in the sky am I going to stop a cowbird?” That green color deepened.
Maybelle took pity on her friend and drew her under her wing. “Come now, Adele. Didn’t we just have a discussion about males and their strutting? It’s easy. Just turn on your charm.”
Adele wasn’t so sure about that. Ever since Seymour had flown to that Big Meadow In The Sky, her charm had gone into hibernation.
High-octane silence filled the car as Val pushed the pedal to the rusting metal floorboard and sped east. She’d had to turn off the air-conditioning to get the car up to speed, but luckily, the gray skies kept the temperature down. Now if only the approaching storm would hold off until they got to wherever they were heading, they’d be fine.
She hoped. She wanted to ask Rod and Livingston exactly where “east” they were headed, but between the open windows making conversation difficult and the fact that both of them were so intent on staring at the sky, with an occasional, “Do you see anything?” she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what they were talking about.
It was all too much to process. Talking birds, claims of royalty, secret government agencies, reconnaissance missions, a throne… Throw in an inheritance, back taxes, a city developer, and it was as if her life had turned into a surrealistic version of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World—minus the hilarity of Buddy Hackett and Ethel Merman.
But a person could only be expected to take so much on faith and Rod had gone beyond the limit of crazy she was comfortable with.
“Rod,” she asked during a lull of “Do you see?”s. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? Where we’re headed? Why we’re headed? Why I’m in a car with a prince?”
Rod swung his gaze from the window. He exhaled, his chest expanding in a way guaranteed to make her forget her own name, not to mention the questions she’d asked him.
But she wasn’t going to allow herself to be distracted. Good looks and charm—and a crown—only got someone so far. Right now she needed to know she wasn’t heading toward some hostage situation or international incident.
And why. Why her? All she wanted was to collect the inheritance so she could save her store.
“This won’t be easy for you to understand, Valerie.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“He’s got a lot to tell you that you don’t know,” said Livingston, with what she would swear was sarcasm, as he ran from one side of the backseat to the other, beak skyward, “but now’s not exactly the right time for it. Albatross, remember? Just go east.”
“I remember, Livingston. That doesn’t necessarily mean I believe it. Besides, I have more important concerns on my mind.”
“Nothing’s more important than this right now, trust me.”
A talking bird? She was supposed to trust a talking bird?
“Valerie,” Rod, a voice of reason, answered. “There’s a lot you need to know, but most of it you won’t believe without proof. When we get to our destination, I promise to explain everything.”
“Does this have anything to do with my inheritance, or was that all a story to get me to come on this mission for God-knows-whatever reason?” She should have taken a closer look at those papers.
“Indirectly, yes, it does have to do with the inheritance,” Rod answered.
“Indirectly? How indirect are we talking?”
“Direct enough that if this albatross succeeds,” quipped Livingston, “you won’t be able to touch the inheritance. My guess is you won’t be able to touch much of anything.”
Words she did not find comforting.
“What if I don’t want to go to this mysterious destination of yours?” she bluffed. She was going, but only to get her inheritance. She hadn’t signed on for albatrosses, and surely she didn’t need Rod with her to claim the inheritance. “You can just tell me the lawyer’s name and I’ll contact him myself. I’m perfectly capable of getting to New Jersey without you guys. Then you can take your albatross wherever it is you want to go and none of this will affect me.”
“No can do, Valerie,” the bird said through tight lips—er, beak. Which was an interesting ability.
“Sure I can—”
“Valerie, he’s right.” Rod touched her arm again. “Once we get to the beach, The Council will administer your inheritance. It’s all been spelled out. So you’re along for the ride.”
As long as she wasn’t being taken for one…
Wait a minute.
“The beach? You mean the beach town where they’re going to meet us, right? Not the actual beach?”<
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“No, our rendezvous point is on the beach behind my brother’s home. He has… facilities there for such a meeting. Is that a problem?”
For her? Yes. Big one. “Okay, what’s going on? This isn’t funny. I’ve got taxes to worry about and you guys are taking me on a wild-goose chase.”
“Al-ba-tross, Valerie. Not a goose,” Livingston said from the backseat. “Albatross are bigger. More cunning.”
“Someone’s trying to be cunning. What? Are you guys working for the developer? I’ve already told him I’m not selling. Is this the next tactic? Trying to make me late with the taxes by getting me out of town?”
“Valerie, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rod said, all insulted.
She was insulted. “Look, I don’t like being made a fool of. I’ll find some way to come up with the tax money. I’m not selling to him, especially after he’s pulled this, and that’s final. You and your trained bird can tell your boss to take a hike. I’m turning this car around right now so you two can go find some other patsy to play your prank on.”
“Prank?” Rod almost growled the word as he grabbed the steering wheel. “I am not playing a prank on you, Valerie. I don’t play pranks. I came here to tell you about your inheritance and bring you to it.”
“On the beach.”
“Yes.”
“See? That’s where this falls apart, Rod.” She wrenched the wheel out of his grasp and turned them back the way they’d come, jamming the stick shift into the correct gear. “Even with the seagull, I was onboard with this whole thing, but next time, you should do your homework before you try something like this.”
“Something like what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine. Here’s the problem with this scenario.” She jerked her head to face him. “I can’t go to the beach.”
“Why not? It’s not that hard to get to.”
The sarcasm came from the bird, so she threw it right back at him. “Because, Livingston, I’m allergic to the ocean. Deathly allergic.”
Chapter 11
Allergic?
Rod didn’t think he’d heard correctly, but Livingston’s gaping beak told him he had.
How was he supposed to fulfill The Prophecy and claim the throne if she was allergic to the ocean?
There had to be a mistake. If she was allergic, then she couldn’t possibly be Lance’s daughter and The Council would have been wrong.
He looked at Livingston. “The gods—they’d never allow a mistake of such proportions to continue.”
“Oh no? Talk to a platypus about that,” Livingston mumbled.
Yes, the ground shook. Rod doubted Humans felt that little wiggle, but he knew what it was. And since they’d “commented” on Livingston’s platypus statement and not his, he had to be right. Which meant The Council was. Which meant she was Lance’s daughter.
He waited.
No rumble.
“Valerie, you aren’t allergic to the ocean.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
She brushed her hair off her forehead, but the curls fell back in place. “Rod, we could play this game all day, but it’s not going to prove either of us right.”
“Exactly. Which is why this conversation must wait until we’re at the ocean. Then you’ll see.”
“You mean, then I’ll puff up like a balloon, my airway will close, and I’ll keel over at your feet.”
“That won’t happen.” One reason being that he wouldn’t have feet.
“And I should believe you, why?”
“Oh, for gods’ sake,” Livingston muttered. “Humans.”
Rod echoed the sentiment, but couldn’t say it or he’d lose her for good. “Valerie, you aren’t allergic to the ocean. The farthest thing from it, actually.”
“Which is still not proving you right.”
“Exactly.” Livingston shoved his beak between their seats, his head flopping from one to the other. “So how about we turn around and continue our journey, then you two can play truth-or-dare to your hearts’ content. In case you’ve both forgotten, there’s an albatross to worry about.”
Rod hadn’t forgotten. And that, more than anything else, determined what he was about to do. He had to convince her. She had to want to go with him, and he wasn’t about to spend the next day or so arguing with her.
Rod pulled the diamond decanter from his pocket and stood it on the dashboard.
“Uh, Rod?” Livingston’s beak dropped open again. “What… what do you think you’re doing?”
Valerie looked between the two of them then glanced at the bottle.
The car slowed a little. Just a little, but enough to tell him he’d gotten her attention.
“What’s that?” Her blue eyes rounded when she looked at him.
Livingston gulped. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
No, he wasn’t sure. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but a High Councilman did need to react to situations beyond his control and this, surely, had to qualify as one of them.
“It’s a diamond.”
“You had that in your pocket? What’s in the other one, rubies?”
Rod pulled out a stack of currency. “Not rubies.”
“Uh, Valerie?” Livingston had a chuckle in his voice. “You want to turn around now?”
“Hold on.” She wasn’t doing this while she was driving. The surprise alone could make her have an accident. She veered onto the shoulder of the road as a few raindrops bounced onto the windshield.
“Oh come on! Don’t stop! Turn around! We need to get going!” Livingston screeched.
She really didn’t like that sound.
“Livingston, I’m not risking my life for this.” She reached out for the diamond. “May I?”
Rod swept his hand toward it. “Be my guest.”
It was heavy, heavier than she would have thought, with perfectly formed facets colored by the amber liquid inside.
“Diamonds don’t contain liquid.” Which he’d have to know that she’d know, so where was he going with this?
“This diamond does, Valerie,” the bird answered, replacing Sarcasm with Smug in his repertoire.
“It’s rare,” Rod said, un-smugly. Nicely. The bird should take lessons. “It’s called The Pollux Diamond and was formed this way naturally. There’s only ever been one other like it—”
“The Castor Diamond,” Livingston interrupted, hopping up and down in the middle of the backseat. “Get it? Castor and Pollux? Twins who went on to become constellations?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I know my Greek mythology, Livingston.”
“Oh it’s not mythology—”
“Livingston, let’s stay on topic, shall we?”
If Rod weren’t royalty, he was giving a darn good impression with that haughty tone and look-down-his-nose glare at the bird.
“This diamond is yours, Valerie, if you—”
“What?” Livingston screeched. Again. “That’s not hers. It’s not anywhere even close to being hers. It belongs in The Vault. It was only given to you—”
“Exactly. It was given to me. And when we return, I’ll be in the position of doing with it what I want, so, yes, Valerie, consider this diamond yours if you come to the beach with us.”
“What about my inheritance?”
“That’s real, Valerie. I’m not lying to you, but even if you don’t believe me, you’ll have that diamond for your troubles. Is that enough incentive to come with us?”
Val didn’t know what to think. If that thing was a diamond, then, yes, inheritance or not, she’d be able to save Mom’s shop. And hell, with it, she wouldn’t have to touch one red cent of “Dad’s” money, which made it all the more attractive. “But people don’t carry rare, bottle-like diamonds
in their pockets.”
“She needs more proof, Rod.” Livingston stretched his wings across the back. “And make it snappy, if you would. That albatross is still on our tail.”
“Right. Here you go, Valerie. Proof that this journey is not a waste of your time, nor am I playing a prank on you.” Rod dragged the diamond along the top of the windshield. It screeched—though not as annoyingly as Livingston—and left a nasty gash in the glass.
Diamonds could cut glass.
Holy mackerel. “Whoa. It really is a diamond.” She would have liked to keep the awed desperation from her voice, but here was the answer to her troubles and she wasn’t blasé enough to pretend it wasn’t.
“Told you.” Livingston did an encore presentation of Smug. “Now can we please get back to outrunning JR?”
Okay, she was onboard for the rest of the trip. “Fine, but I need to make a phone call. I’m assuming you won’t have any objections to that, Livingston?” She didn’t wait for his acceptance but was subjected to him turning his beak to the side so that red dot “stared” at her and sighing so heavily that she could guess what he’d had for breakfast.
“I have to let Tricia know I’m gone so she can reschedule a few appointments and let the electrician in today.” Not to mention, one didn’t hop in a car with a virtual stranger—and his talking bird—and thousands, if not millions, of dollars worth of diamond, as well as a stack of hundreds, and head east without a word or a phone call to anyone.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just let’s get going already, will you?”
“Hold that thought and hand me my bag.”
“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Let’s just—oh, shit!” Livingston hopped through the seats and jumped onto the stick shift, his feathers hitting Val in the face.
“Incoming!” he screeched in all his seagull glory. “Turn us around! Get this thing moving! Now!”
The “oh shit” screech was effective. Val fumbled with the clutch after Rod plucked the bird out of the way. Jamming the stick shift into first, she tore back onto the road with a spray of gravel, grinding the gears as she forced the transmission into a quick shift to second.
