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“Eat,” she says, aiming her fork at my plate. A quirk of her lips means she knows I’m distracted.
I dig into my meal, and we continue to talk about the day.
Cora says, “I heard Brawn is really strong with his telekinesis.”
I huff with amusement, remembering. “The dude lifted a frigging cow!” He’s got enough control of his Gift now to lift an animal and set it down again gently. The soldiers joked that they could use his Gift to help out when they need to trailer the cattle.
“Did he really move Bessy just with his mind?” she asks.
I nod. “Turned her a hundred-eighty degrees. I never saw her tires leave the ground, but the whole rig lifted up on her shocks and she shifted inch by inch until she was pointed away from the barn.” I use the spoon beside my plate to demonstrate. “Big guy broke a sweat doing it.”
“Wow,” Cora says.
“Yeah. It was something else to see. That’s for sure.” I sip my perfectly-sweetened iced tea.
She asks what Shep and I got up to with the birds, and I tell her all about it.
“That’ll be a big help,” she concludes, and I hope she’s right.
Dinner wraps up, and everyone does their part to speed the cleanup along. Rev gathers us all in the common area for a short sermon, and then we get ready to talk strategy, like we did last night.
“Before we begin,” Rev says, “we’ve got a special guest to include.” He motions to Shep, who’s standing by the huge double doors that open to the sprawling front porch.
Shep swings open one of the doors, and there stands Bernard, looking gray and grizzled as ever. “Come in, my friend,” he says with a sweeping motion of his arm.
And then a huge-ass pelican waddles into the living room, feetslap-slap-slappingon the hardwood floors.
“Guys,” Shep says, “this is Bernard. Bernard, these are our allies and friends.”
It’s a hoot to watch the soldiers take in the sight of a four-foot-tall sea bird standing in their living room like an honored guest. They’ve seen him around the ranch, but this is the closest they’ve been to him.
“Uh—ahem.” Sarge clears his throat. He’s half sitting on the arm of a couch, but at Bernard’s introduction, he stands up and cautiously approaches. “Welcome, bird—er—Bernard. I’m Sarge.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his fatigues. My guess is he had an instinct to offer a hand for a shake but realized at the last second that a bird can’t exactly reciprocate the human greeting.
Bernard eyes Sarge, somehow seeming to look down on the big, bald man despite being the smaller of the two.
Shep moves to stand beside the bird. “He says thank you for your hospitality. Also, the carp in your pond have fungus on their scales.”
Sarge blinks, clearly unsure how to respond to a pelican’s critique of his fish.
I huff a laugh. “Thanks, buddy,” I tell Bernard. I know he can understand me as long as Shep’s nearby. “I’ll heal them tomorrow.”
Bernard blinks at me then takes up a perch on the back of the couch where Scrap and Brawn sit.
Stealth shifts in his chair. “He’s, like, housetrained, right?”
If you’ve never been on the receiving end of a pelican’s death-stare, be thankful. Stealth is not the kind of man who is easily intimidated, but at Bernard’s withering look, he swallows, and mutters an apology as if he was scolded by a schoolmarm.
A round of chuckles breaks the tension at Bernard’s entrance, and then Rev gets the strategy session underway.
Rev’s grin disappears as he spreads out a map of New Orleans on the coffee table. “Let’s talk search parties,” he says, and despite having the most beautiful distraction imaginable pressed against my side, I’m all ears. This is my friend we’re talking about. My brother. I’ll move heaven and earth to get him back. From the grip Cora has on my hand, I know she feels the same.
According to the pelican, Raptor has taken control of the warehouse district and the French Quarter. Huge walls constructed of garbage, vehicles, cement, and rebar surround his territory, and armed guards monitor those walls twenty-four seven.
Viewing the walled-off area from Bernard’s point of view, Shep describes it as dark, dank, and run-down, but in the middle is a cluster of buildings, including a massive casino and hotel complex, that are kept clean and lit up like a beacon at night. This has to be Raptor’s headquarters.
When Shep asks Bernard where a prisoner might be kept, the bird comes back with a few options based on his observations. Shep points on the map to the most likely site. It’s a historic building that I remember from a high school field trip. Over the years, it’s been a ward for tuberculosis treatment, a hospital, and an asylum. Apparently, Raptor uses it as a prison. Bernard has seen Raptor’s cronies dragging men inside kicking and screaming. Those who are dragged in never come out again.
Another possibility is St. Patrick’s Church. The early-nineteenth century building serves as home base for Raptor’s security operations. At least, that’s what we think based on Bernard’s observations of armed men going in and out of the building at all hours. There aren’t very many places in New Orleans with basements because of the water table, but the church is one of them. Bernard tells Shep there’s a community of pigeons living in catacombs beneath the sanctuary. The pigeons are fat, which according to the pelican, means they’re eating a lot of bread. In other words, there are people down there.
