“It makes these things possible. You can Google it.” He walks toward the long wooden hen house. There’s a thick chain on the door, which he unlocks before stepping inside. I hesitate before following him, but he doesn’t stop me so I step into the darkness behind him.
It’s warm, and smells very strongly of chickens. The walls are lined with boxes for the hens to roost and nest. There are a few already snuggled into their boxes for the evening.
“Are you stronger than the average person? Faster? Can you fly?” I press for more answers. I know he isn’t human, I just want to hear him say it.
“I can do the things that I can do.” He grumbles.
“Why did you help me?”
“Because you needed help.”
“You do that kind of thing often? Help other people?” I ask, examining the chicken roosts.
“Do you ever stop asking questions, Mina?” The words come out harsh and I stop in my tracks.
“What did you want to talk about then?” I snap back.
“Sorry.” The word is muttered softly but easily. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to talking to—humans—this much.”
I notice that he didn’t say ‘other humans’. I can’t remember the last time a man offered me an apology so easily. I try to smile.
“We had an attempted break-in recently.” He continues as explanation. “It’s made me extra—terse.”
“Break-in? At a chicken rescue?” I ask and then shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Being nosy is just in my blood. My dad was a detective for years before he moved here to become a deputy. I’m just a naturally curious person.”
“No, that’s my fault.” He releases a long sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing an inch. “I want people to enjoy visiting, but I’m not sure I’ve done a good job making the rescue welcoming.”
“It could use some updating.” I admit. “Is that why you asked me to come? To get my opinion on paint chips?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your farm.”
“Dad’s old property?” I almost laugh. The run-down house I inherited could hardly be called a ‘farm’. “It’s not livable anymore.”
In the nearly ten years since I last visited him, the building became uninhabitable. Broken glass, wild animals living in the eaves, trash everywhere. I don’t know how he was living in that mess, but when he passed away a couple months ago, I was the person who inherited his dilapidated pile of dry-rotting lumber. I thought I’d fix it up, but that proved unrealistic with my current financial situation.
“With all the new faces I’ve added lately.” Eggward’s feet scratch at the ground. “I’m running out of space. I wondered if you’d consider donating the land and the building to my chicken rescue.” He finishes the sentence quickly, the words running together like he’s nervous to say them.
I swallow hard. Give away my father’s old place. The last thing truly tying me to this town, and my childhood here. “Donate it?”
“The rescue is a non-profit. It’d be a tax-deductible gift.” He explains.
“I’d love to help. But I’m barely scraping by as it is. I don’t know if—I could just give it away.” I admit. “I know it sounds selfish. I wish I could?—”
“I understand completely.” Eggward cuts me off.
“I don’t mean to be unsympathetic.” My chest squeezes.
“It’s a big favor. I know.”
A chicken at his feet makes a loud noise of protest.
He huffs loudly and turns back to face me. I can’t make out his expression in the darkness, but I can feel his gaze weighing on me, judging me.
“The thing is, I have a way that I could pay you.” A long moment of silence stretches between us. “But it wouldn’t exactly be regular money. And I’m sure a bank wouldn’t accept any kind of contract I drew up.”
“Not money? What are you going to pay me with? Sexual favors?” I joke without thinking and then wince.
He steps toward me until he’s towering over me. “Without any official documents, you’d just have to trust me. Can you trust me, Mina?”
