He stepped out of the Jeep and was immediately assaulted by a large, brown bird. The creature darted out of the shadows alongside the stairs.
AreeeceehhhhhkAreeeceehhhhhkhooonk....hooonk...hooonk.
Its wings flapping, the bird sprinted toward him, puffing up its feathers and snapping its beak, then plucked at O’Neill’s tactical pants.
What the fuck?
Samuel had an attack bird?
He stepped back, but the bird darted forward, still screeching and snapping. Only this time, it grabbed his pants and yanked repeatedly. O’Neill swung his leg, trying to dislodge the creature. Its wings still flapping, it finally released the tactical pants and fluttered to the ground, only to pop back up—still squawking, still flapping, all puffed up and agitated, its beady black eyes shining beneath the porch light.
Awackaaaronckcooo...hooonk....hooonk
Pivoting, the creature sprinted toward the garage, squawking with each step. Its body swayed, its wings held straight out on each side, its squawks and honks trailing behind it. The damn thing looked like a cartoon caricature brought to life. It was so comical it left O’Neill dumbfounded. With a last honk, the crazy thing disappeared through a partially open garage door.
“What the hell was that?” O’Neill asked Rawlings, who’d exited the vehicle and was standing by the driver’s door.
“Oh...that...” Rawlings wiped a hand down his face, which did nothing to hide his amusement. “Forgot to mention that your ex rescued a peacock a couple of days ago. Turns out peacocks are aggressively territorial. Makes it a bitch to shovel snow.”
Seriously? The bastard knew the bird was here? He knew how the beast would react to a stranger encroaching on its territory. “You couldn’t warn me?”
“Now why would I do that?” Rawlings held up his palms, his smile gleaming beneath the moonlight. “A big, strong ODNI operator like you...don’t go tellin’ me you can’t handle one littlebitty bird.” He flapped his hands. “Go on now. All your answers are beyond that door.”
O’Neill glanced toward the garage, but the bird didn’t appear for round two. A rescue peacock, huh? The news didn’t surprise him. Muriel had rescued one animal after another on theBrenahiilo—dogs, cats, goats, even pigs a time or two. Most of the animals had ended up in new homes or on Wolf’sanistaa’sporch. Rescuing strays was something the two women had in common.
It had occurred to him, more than once through the years, that he’d just been another stray in Muriel’s life. A rescue she would have passed on if he’d stuck around long enough.
Forcing his legs to move, O’Neill pushed aside the lingering bitterness and climbed the steps to the porch. You’d think with all the bird’s squawking, Muriel would have come outside to check the noise out. But as soon as he reached the door, he heard a television blaring from inside the house. The sound was loud enough to hide the bird’s temper tantrum.
His ride still hadn’t left when he rang the doorbell. Was the squid waiting to see if Muriel slammed the door in his face? Probably. Rawlings obviously intended to wait and see how the initial conversation went, rather than leaving and having to immediately return.
When no one answered his first ring, he pressed the doorbell again. This time, the door opened before the chimes faded. Only it wasn’t Muriel who stood before him. Or Olivia. Instead, a young woman wearing a bulky sweater with red, black, and green checkers and pale blue sweatpants blocked the door. Her hair was light brown and hung in a single braid. Strangely, the distinctive scent of a wolf drifted from her. Did she keep a wolf as a pet?
The youngling stood in the shadow of the door, so he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes. But she looked familiar. Although he wasn’t sure why.
His brow furrowed as he studied her guarded face. Was she a relative of Olivia’s? But Samuel’sle'ven'ahad black hair and dark eyes. This girl had neither. Indeed, there was no resemblance between the two. If they were related, wouldn’t they share at least some similarity in their features?
When she shifted in the doorway, her hair turned almost silver and her face even more guarded. He shook himself. All this staring was making her uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat. “Is Muriel here?”
She studied him for a couple of seconds, before turning to yell over her shoulder. “Mom. Someone’s at the door. They’re asking for you.”
He jolted, his head going light.Mom?This oddly familiar youngling, who looked to be Daniel’s age, called Muriel mom?
“How old are you?” The question emerged hoarse. Raspy.
The wood beneath his feet wobbled. He reached out to brace himself against the door jamb, shocked at how weak his arm felt.
“Why do you want to know?” The youngling’s shoulders drew back, and her light-colored eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“How old?” The question came out clipped. Not because he was trying to act like an asshole, but because his mouth and tongue refused to work properly.
“I’m nineteen. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Nineteen. Same age as Daniel. “You’re Daniel’s twin.” It was a statement, not a question.
It made sense. Samuel and Muriel were twins. Hell. twins ran in their family.
