Page 10 of The Hound and the Peacock

Cass warbled, voicing her displeasure at the insult. She was not an ugly type of bird. Clearly. She was also well over their guessed weight, but she wasn’t about to correct them there.

She feigned getting up again, before tumbling into the wall. She landed in a huff of feathers. There would be no award for best actress, but she tried. If only Frick and Frack would help a girl out…

The silence stretched on before the one captor whined, “You know I have a bad back.”

“You do not!”

Cass wished she’d escaped earlier. It would be less annoying than listening to them bicker like hens. She rolled her eyes, even though it wouldn’t be seen. It felt better than doing nothing. If she were still human, she would have ripped them to shreds with sarcasm by now. Not being able to talk was frustrating. She often used her words as a weapon.

“Let’s just take the bag off. What can she do? She’s a bird.”

Cass didn’t like being brushed off like that. Not for being a woman, not for the way she dressed or did her makeup, and certainly not for being a peafowl. She would make sure these two never underestimated her again. She’d cut them to ribbons with her talons the first chance she got. For now, she’d settle for them taking the damn bag off her head so she could view her surroundings.

“All right. But you know Sandy doesn’t like it when we go against her orders.” There was a whack. “Ow! What’cha hit me for?”

“She doesn’t like you using her name.”

“Who she gonna tell?”

The other man laughed. It was a cruel noise that instantly sent a cold shiver down Cass’ feathered back. “You’re right. Once she’s done with this hen, she won’t be able to say a thing.” He cackled.

Sounded to Cass like this Sandyhaddone something to the seagull shifters. Cass wasn’t equipped to find out what today. If she had a team listening in on a wire, maybe. But working solo. Hell no. She needed to fly the coop, and fast.

One man removed her hood. She blinked, adjusting to the bright lights. His long, tangled beard tumbled down his chest, touching the top three buttons of his flannel shirt. Crumbs were stuck in it. Cass wanted to ask for the sack back to block the view.

“Come out now. Nice and easy.”

She dug her talons into the metal floor of the vehicle. They scraped out a high-pitched screech. It wasn’t necessary, but it was fun. The men cringed at the sound. Cass would have smiled if her beak allowed it.

She twirled around and hopped out of the back of the van. Her feet slid in the dust that coated the floor. Rough cuts of wooden beams lay around. Sawdust was sprinkled in piles like tiny, yellow snowdrifts. All the saws that would have been in the mill were gone, like everything of value had been taken when the place closed. The warped wood was left behind like bones from an ancient carcass.

Metal cages lined the walls. Large-diameter wooden dowels pierced the chain-link. The make-shift bird enclosures were stacked on top of each other. No avian creatures nestled inside. Were they in the process of starting their operation at this location? Or were they packing up to move on to the next one?

She’d seen enough of these makeshift labs to know the horrors that went on here. Some freak with an ego decides to splice together different shifter abilities? The results were always horrendous. Many ex-experiments were left with difficulty functioning and the inability to shift into a fully human form. Forced to be exiled to a facility like FUCN’A for the rest of their lives, hiding from the rest of the world. She’d witnessed shifters disfigured badly. And not in the way she was after her crash. These ones ended up with horns jutting from their human faces or teeth so large they couldn’t shut their mouths. It churned her stomach to think of it.

And it pissed her off to think that someone felt they had the right to do this to others.

The rope around her wings and body had loosened around her. She puffed up her feathers when they grabbed her, allowing her bonds to remain baggy. Cass could shake them at any time. What she was waiting for was the right moment.

But what if Frick and Frack ushered her into one of these cages? Then it was game over. She’d have to fly off into the sunset before that.

“What if she shifts?” the shorter man she’d nicknamed Frack asked. His bushy eyebrows merged into one, an expression of worry.

“She won’t.” Frick barked a laugh. “You don’t want us to see your beautiful human body, do you?” He ran a finger over the short, soft feathers of her face.

She bit him. Hard. Her beak snapped shut like a mouse trap, and the metallic taste of blood coated her thin tongue. Cass fought the urge to let go, to spit out his nasty flavor—he was as bitter and foul on the inside as out.

He bellowed. Frack’s beady eyes went wide in shock, unsure how to help his partner in crime. Frick raised a fist to hit her. Instead of accepting the blow, she released his mangled digit. Shaking loose of the rope, Cass expanded her mighty wingspan, knocking both men back. Shame on them for thinking she was a helpless bird.

As the men bumbled around, trying to keep their balance, Cass looked up. Long metal rafters spanned the building. With a running hop, she flapped her wings, taking to the air. She couldn’t fly long distances, but inside a warehouse, she’d do just fine.

The beam jutted out close to the ceiling but not too close. Cass hunkered down as she landed. The metal of the girder was just wide enough for her massive talons. She roosted quite comfortably. Frick and Frack continued to stumble. One tripped over the other and landed on his ass. Cass swallowed a chuckle.

“Screw what Sandy wants. We’re going to roast you on a spit!” Frick howled, saliva flying from his mouth and smattering his shabby beard.

You have to catch me first.Cass clucked. Whether or not they could understand her dismissive tone, she didn’t care.This must be how a cat feels, stalking its prey.

Peafowl were naturally omnivorous, meaning they ate meat, insects, and plants, but Cass didn’t play with her food. Eating other shifters was murder, and she wasn’t about to make an exception, even if one of the men below shifted into a tasty critter, like a snake, which was on her usual bird menu.

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