Phoenix Feather (5 page)

“Thank you,” she said. “I had a really good time.”

“So did I.” Trent’s eyes dropped briefly to her mouth, but he pulled them back to meet her gaze. “See you next weekend.”

Aidan smiled and got in her car. Trent watched her pull out and drive away. Their first date had gone rather well.

***

He stood under a large sycamore tree, watching the building. It was dark and cold. He shivered as icy drops ran down his collar; some twitch in the branches above had loosed what remained of the evening drizzle. But he wouldn’t move from his cover. He had felt cold before, much more than the slow decline in temperature between September and October in the Northwest United States. He had seen winters these feeble Americans could never imagine.

A pain burned in his chest like ice, and he put his hand over his coat pocket. For all the winters he had known, the one that had taken up permanent residence in his heart was the worst. Heat didn’t soothe him. That’s why he stood there, patiently enduring the cold to find the one source of heat that would make him warm again. He had watched her. He knew her movements, her habits, the way her freckles became brighter when she laughed. The last one had been wrong, another mistake, an empty promise. This one—she could be it. She had to be. His hands ached as he flexed the gaunt muscles in his gnarled fingers.

The lights in the law office went out. She was always the last to leave, working overtime for a promotion. He watched her lock up and walk to her car, her copper hair constrained in a tight bun at the top of her head. He would have to set those fiery locks free. He finally took a step and walked silently toward her.

Chapter Four

Sounds of shouting and cheering filled the stands as the soccer teams battled it out for victory on the field. It reminded Aidan of some of the more bloody competitions of ancient civilizations. Sometimes, the competition on the field was just as underhanded. Phoebe always urged her team to play fair though, and they had won many good sportsmanship awards because of it.

Phoebe stood at the edge of the field, shouting instructions to her players as they dodged back and forth after the ball. Aidan and Chris manned the refreshment table, ready with water and Gatorade for when players swapped, and selling cookies to loyal fans. It was a clear day; the clouds and drizzles of the morning had dissipated, leaving a full view of the playing field to the sun.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Aidan said. “Normally you’re screaming my ear off at the teams.”

Chris smiled and popped a whole cookie in his mouth. “I’m busy,” he mumbled, and crumbs tumbled down his shirt.

Aidan gave him a playful shove.

“Hi.”

She looked up and saw Trent standing there. He wore blue jeans and a dark gray Washington State sweatshirt.

“Hi,” she said, slightly surprised he had come, and delighted. He was going out of his way to spend time with her. It was flattering, and disarming. Phoebe had raved how lucky Aidan was when she told her he had taken her dancing. He was interested, and Aidan was unaccustomed to his small, subtle ways of showing it.

They had touched briefly on her life history during their first date, and she had told him the line: how she had been adopted at eleven-years-old, and how she had no memory of her life before that time. It wasn’t a lie. Though the whole truth would have been that she didn’t have a life before the age of eleven. In centuries past, when she retook human form, she would return to a youthful twenty-year-old body; back then it hadn’t mattered. Now, in the age of social security numbers, she needed ID. The only way to do that was to throw herself into the childcare system, but at an age where she had enough faculties to survive should it not go well. It always passed off as a tragic tale to those around her, but Trent had offered no pity, and had respectfully moved on at her direction.

Chris nudged her elbow.

“Swallow first,” Aidan told him. “Trent, this is Chris; Chris, this is Trent.” The two men shook hands and took a male moment to evaluate each other. Aidan pretended not to notice. “Phoebe is his sister, the coach screaming over there.”

“Nice to meet you,” Trent said. “So, which team am I rooting for?”

“The Eagles, red,” Aidan answered.

“They any good?”

“Made it to Nationals last year,” Chris said.

Someone scored a goal and the stands erupted in howls.

“Thanks for coming,” Aidan said, feeling the need to be polite. She wasn’t sure yet how to reciprocate his advances, and the lack of protocol for dating and courtship in this decade left her on wobbly ground. That was one thing she found very annoying about living as a human: as soon as she learned one set of expectations for behavior, they seemed to change.

Trent glanced at the spread on the table. “Are those the cookies you baked?”

“Yeah.” Aidan smacked Chris’s hand as he reached for another one. “They’re two dollars.”

Chris cradled his stung fingers. “Charging prospective boyfriends?” he asked in mock disdain. “They’re not even baked from scratch. Nestle cookies, dough bought from the store. Aidan has no talent. I hope that doesn’t turn you off, Trent.”

“I can bake!” she said, surprised by her vehement defense.

Trent grinned. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Aidan turned toward him. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Yeah. How about I cook you dinner and you bake the dessert?”

She had heard that line before, but not in this decade. “I thought you couldn’t cook.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Aidan laughed. “You bought a gourmet meal for a firehouse rather than cook for them. I assumed it was because you couldn’t.”

“I never said I couldn’t cook, but cooking for fifteen guys and then cleaning up afterward is not nearly as fun as cooking for a beautiful woman.” He gave her a disarming smile.

Yep, she had definitely heard that line before, sometimes genuine, sometimes not. Coming from him though, she found it rather charming.

“Hmm,” Chris said. “Sounds like a gentleman.”

Trent reached up to tip an imaginary cowboy hat. “I’m from the South.”

“Uh-hmm,” Aidan mumbled in consideration.

The ref blew the whistle for half time and the table became crowded with girls pushing for drinks. Aidan and Chris had both hands full as they simply held bottles out and eager hands snatched them away. The mass retreated as quickly as it had come, eager to consume sustenance before the game resumed.

“Stop eating the cookies, Chris,” Phoebe said, and grabbed a bottle of water.

“We’re down by one,” he said.

“We’ll make it up,” she retorted.

Chris smiled. “I know. Aidan’s got a friend to introduce you to.”

Phoebe’s face brightened and she whirled on the only other person still standing by the table. “Hi!” She held her hand out to Trent. “I’m Phoebe.”

“Trent,” he said, and shook. “You’ve got a good team there.”

“We work for it. You and Aidan joining us for pizza afterwards?”

“Uh…” He looked at Aidan, who didn’t offer a sign in any direction—she didn’t want to pressure him—and then nodded slowly. “Sure.”

Phoebe smiled and took a large swig of water. “Cheers then.” She went back to the team to give them encouragement and plays before half time was over.

Trent looked back at Aidan. She gave him a small smile and held up a plate of cookies. He took one with a nod of thanks.

“You still owe me a true dessert,” he said.

The Eagles won by one goal. Trent cheered with as much enthusiasm as a truehearted fan, which pleased Aidan. It didn’t seem as though he were putting on a show for her, but that he could truly engage in whatever environment he found himself. They, the team, and some of the players’ parents went for pizza at Round Table to celebrate a game well played. Aidan, Trent, Phoebe, and Chris shared a booth while the noisy girls took up three tables on the other end of the banquet room.

“How’d you get into coaching?” Trent asked.

“I played in high school,” Phoebe said. “One of my old teammates has a younger sister who plays now, and when they needed a replacement coach, their mom asked me.”

“Phoebe even convinced her psych professor to use her hours coaching as part of her fieldwork,” Aidan said.

Trent let out a low whistle. “I bet psychology comes in handy when dealing with a handful of hormonal athletes.”

Phoebe mumbled her agreement and added a dramatic eye roll. “It does, and I love it. You play anything?”

“Basketball.”

She grinned. “Maybe we should play sometime.”

“No,” Chris interrupted. “You’re way too competitive, and we don’t want to scare him off just yet.”

“I beg your pardon.” Aidan gave him a slight kick under the table.

Trent appeared amused. “How long have you known each other?”

“We met as undergrad freshmen,” Aidan said. “During a heist.”

Trent nearly choked on his soda. “I’m sorry?”

Aidan exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Phoebe before going into an explanation. “My dorm was on Upper Campus, and I had a night class on Lower. It was dark and late. Then this guy and girl in one of those golf cart-like maintenance vehicles pull up and ask if I want a ride.”

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” Phoebe interjected.

Aidan tried to keep her laughter under control so she could finish. “So I accept, and the next thing I know, Campus Security is running toward us, waving their flashlights and yelling at us to stop.”

“By then I had figured out my brother had not borrowed it ‘with permission,’” Phoebe said, using air quotes.

Chris shook his head and kept his eyes on his food.

“It then became a high-speed chase, as high-speed as a golf cart can get, anyway,” Aidan continued. “I’m sure we would have crashed with Phoebe hitting Chris and screaming at him, except he finally decided to stop. I think he realized he’d rather face the law than his sister.”

“Yes, indeed,” Phoebe said.

Chris put his hands up. “But I did get you back to your dorms safely.”

Aidan laughed. “Yeah, well, our friendship kind of took off from there.” She glanced over at Trent who had been chuckling throughout the story.

“Guys in college,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got some stories too.”

“Let’s hear!” Chris exclaimed.

Trent grinned and glanced at Aidan. “Maybe next time.”

Phoebe feigned a look of disappointment, but changed the subject. “What’d you study in school, Trent?”

“Business. Didn’t really have a taste for it though.”

“So you became a fireman?” she asked.

Trent laughed to himself. “Yeah. I was bored and wanted a job. As it turned out, that’s where I belonged.”

Phoebe sipped soda through a straw and glanced at Aidan. “Are you two going line dancing again?”

 
“Actually, they’re having dinner,” Chris said. “Aidan’s baking skills have been challenged.”

Phoebe cast her a not-so-covert brow waggle. Aidan felt her cheeks go warm.

“If you guys like dancing too, we should all go sometime,” Trent said. “It’s a lot of fun. Every once in a while some guys from the firehouse join me.”

Aidan relaxed and smiled. He was making an effort with her friends. He didn’t exclusively hone in on her, which other girls might be annoyed by, but Aidan had been on the “it’s just the two of us in the whole wide world” train, and she wanted something more holistic this time. Trent was interested in her life, and that included her friends. She just might have to convince Phoebe and Chris to take him up on that dancing offer.

Chris had finished his pizza, and Phoebe asked if he wanted more. “No thanks,” he said. “I’m gonna get going.”

“It’s still early,” she protested. “And you normally eat like three slices.”

Chris shrugged. “Guess I ate too many of those cookies. Besides, I have a lot of studying to do.” He kissed her forehead and waved at the rest of them. “Nice meeting you, Trent.” He held his hand out and the two shook, this time with less testosterone.

“You too.”

Phoebe slid into the middle of the booth. The three of them talked a bit more until the players began to disperse as well. Trent said goodbye, and Aidan and Phoebe walked back to the car together.

“I like him,” Phoebe said, and gave Aidan’s arm a squeeze.

Aidan grinned; she liked him too. “Want to help me find a recipe to knock his socks off?”

Phoebe beamed. “My pleasure!”

Chapter Five

Cameras clicked incessantly, documenting the scene of a woman lying behind some bushes in a local park. Her clothes were soaked after the steady rain of the night before, the bruising around her neck bright against the white pallor of her skin. Yellow police tape marked the perimeter of the crime scene. Investigators combed the area while uniformed officers took preliminary statements from bystanders at the police line.