Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(61)

There were crows and magpies and other songbirds, sparrows and chickadees, not just the raptors, which were what she had thought would potentially be attracted to her. When a barn owl hopped up onto her knee and twisted his head around to look at her, she chuckled in delight. “And what’s your name?”

It made a tiny sound, but, in her mind, he had answered her.

“How can you be called Rubiks?” she asked with a tiny laugh. “You’re mostly one color—brown. A Rubik’s Cube is full of colors.”

This time there was no answer. But he continued to fix his gaze on her. She stared at them all in wonder. And finally she turned to the three men in the middle of the living room, shock and bewilderment on their faces. The two new arrivals were just as big as Eagle and just as dumbfounded. She’d loved it when Panther opened his mouth and flashed his gold tooth. But right now, none of the men were smiling. They stared at her like she’d grown two heads right in front of them.

“I guess you want me to explain?” she asked in a small voice.

Eagle stared at her. “Can you explain this?”

“I don’t know that I can. But this happened to me when I was a child. I forgot until now. But I would go outside, and the birds would come to me. I’d play on the swing, and the birds would collect around me. They’d land on my shoulders, on my hands, on my legs. If I had a glass with water, they’d sit on the glass, and, if there was a table, they would perch beside me.”

“What did your family think?”

“Honestly I think they thought I was crazy. Among the other kids, I was a fascination, and some of them really looked up to me.” She gave a lopsided smile. “My brothers on the other hand, I think they were jealous. The youngest one, Liam, would chase away the birds. But I don’t think he did so to protect me. It was more because he didn’t want the evidence that I could do something he couldn’t.”

Eagle crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze going from bird to bird.

She stood and walked closer to him, the owl now on her palm. “Liam was always angry.” She extended her arm with the little owl on it. He hopped onto Eagle’s forearm and nestled up against his sweater.

Eagle froze. “I handle birds all day long,” he said. “And most of them don’t want to be touched.” He nodded toward the little owl. “What did you do to him?”

“I told him that you were a friend,” she said gently. “And that you wouldn’t hurt him.”

She turned her gaze to the two huge men standing behind Eagle. Panther stared at her in fascination.

Tiger, on the other hand, stared at her in shock. “Dear God, can you talk to animals too?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. It’s not like I use words though. For whatever reason, I’ve always had an affinity for feathers. Maybe that’s what I had with Hadrid.”

“Who’s Hadrid?” Panther asked.

Rather than answering, she let Eagle give the explanations. She walked around the room, gently stroking and greeting each of the birds that had come in. And then, unable to stop herself, she walked to the front door and stepped back out.

Hundreds of birds flew near the fence, on the rooftop, and the deck. She cried out in joy. A part of her world had finally come back. A sense of remembrance, a sense of homecoming she’d never thought to have again. She’d searched long and wide for a connection with another bird like she’d had with Hadrid. And here was one of those events in her childhood, so connected to Hadrid that it had been commonplace, and yet, since she’d lost him, she’d lost these experiences, these connections too.

She called out to them, her voice imitating, picking up the different sounds as she cooed and cawed, sending cries into the air. More and more birds arrived. She turned and danced in a circle with her arms wide. Her head back, she let out an odd sound from deep within her gut. Sounds she’d heard many times before but not in the last twenty years. When she finally fell silent, she let her eyes drift closed, and just stood there, feeling the love, feeling the connection. Long bottled up emotions welled up, bringing tears to her eyes.

A small bird landed on her arm, walking up to her shoulder where it hunkered down and cuddled close. When it trilled in her ear, the tears dripped down her cheeks. Gillian. The little saw-whet own had found her again.

When she opened her eyes again, the men stood in front of her. She stared up at Eagle, knowing he could see the tears coursing down her cheeks, and she whispered, “There’s such a bond, a sense of love and connection with these birds that, as a child, it was way stronger than my connection to my mother. Or my father. And definitely not with my brothers. As if I was hatched and not born. As if I was meant to be a bird myself. And yet God made a mistake and plunked me way down in this awkward human form.”

Eagle’s gaze shifted to her shoulder.

She smiled. “The little owl is Gillian. She lived with me at my cabin,” Through the tears, her smile deepened as she added, “Isn’t that wonderful?”

He looked at her and nodded. “It’s just too unbelievable.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I do know. When I was a child, this is what I had. They were my friends. They were my confidants. In so many ways, they were my family. Nobody else understood me. Nobody understood a damn thing. But I always knew when somebody was being mean to a bird. I always knew when someone was coming because the birds would let me know. I would hear their wings as they flew. When a tree rustled, I could tell what bird it was. I didn’t know the names, certainly didn’t know all the proper terms, but I could tell their colors, their size, if they were ones I had seen before many times, or if they were new,” she added, her voice soft. “I never went to school in Ireland. Maybe because I wasn’t allowed to. Because they didn’t think I’d fit in.”