“Rowan,” I whisper, looking around the quiet space. His perch is empty.
“Rowan!” I call again, but there’s no reply.
I search until I find the owl door in my office, directly behind an empty cardboard box that looks like it was scooted aside.
He must have left.
I glance outside. The rain has slowed, but it’s still pattering against the windows.
Worried, I remember what I told him about making himself scarce. He didn’t think I wanted him to go out in the storm, did he?
Uncomfortable, I cross my arms, chilled. The air up here is cold, and the space doesn’t feel so cozy anymore.
Though guilt eats at me, I assure myself Rowan will be okay out there. It’s not like he hasn’t had years of practice at being a bird.
But as I make my way down the stairs, I glance out the window again, into the graying evening and the water that’s puddling on the cobblestone streets.
He will be okay…won’t he?
Chapter 11
When is the Last Time You Visited a Vet?
When I let myself into the house, I find a damp, disgruntled owl preening himself on his living room perch. Relief hits me hard…which makes me a bit testy.
“I was worried about you,” I say without so much as a hello. “Why would you take off like that?”
Chester runs up to greet me, his entire body wagging with his plumed tail. I scoop him up and then frown, realizing he’s nearly as wet as Rowan.
The owl peers at me. “Since when do I have to check in with you before I go somewhere?”
“Since…since it started raining. And you said your feathers aren’t designed for wet weather. I was concerned.”
“You didn’t look concerned when you ordered me out of the room.”
“You know I can’t have an owl in the tea shop. The health department will shut me down!”
“I’mnotan owl.”
And this time when he says it, he sounds angry—angry, frustrated, and so, so tired.
We have to figure out how to change him back. Somehow.
My anger ebbs, replaced with unease. “I need to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad.”
“What?” he snaps.
So much for that.
I brace myself. “Have you seen a vet since you changed?”
“Avet?”
“I just don’t want you keeling over of some owl illness before we can change you back into a man.” I cringe. “What if you come down with the bird flu?”
“We're not having this conversation.” He flies into the kitchen, apparently done with me.
Naturally, I follow him. “I’ve been charged with your well-being.”
