Un2talented (Book 3 of the Un2 Series)

The doorway at the end of the hallway was ajar and closing slowly suggesting that Lenny and the hoodie guy had just passed through them.

“The aviary I told you about is through those,” Cadence pointed at the doors. The pair sped up to catch the door before it closed.

“Cool! I’ll get to see those peacocky things!” Dorian huffed as he tried to keep up with Cadence.

A burst of warmth washed the two as they entered the room. They saw Lenny turn down a hallway beyond the foliage of the oasis. The Pheacocks had scattered and were slowing their trot as the commotion passed.

“Can I wait for you here? I want to see the birds,” Dorian moved toward the bench amongst the greenery.

“Promise that you will just sit and observe the birds,” Cadence begged.

Dorian crossed his heart and raised his right hand. “I promise.”

Cadence hesitantly left Dorian behind, hoping he would stay true to his word.

The small flock of crimson fowl returned to their strutting about the aviary. One of the larger birds circled the perimeter of the greenspace dragging its massive train of tail feathers across the polished stone flooring. A warm glow emanated from beneath it reminding Dorian of the neon-lit undercarriages of the low-riders that bounced through town on street rod nights each summer. Dorian crouched down and chirped “Hello!” to the animal in what he thought Pheacock-talk might sound like. The bird turned toward Dorian, lowered his head, and hissed. Whatever Dorian had said must have been highly offensive. The Pheacock charged, its body rocking vigorously from side to side in a very menacing waddle. Dorian tried to rise quickly but lost his balance and fell backward. He covered his head with his arms and prepared for an onslaught of feathers and beak.

A wave of movement broke across the tall grasses that rimmed the oasis behind Dorian. A mass of black fur leaped between him and the incoming attacker. The big red bird tried to halt and retreat but could not counteract the commitment that it had already given to the attack. The black beast’s momentum, combined with the slick stone floor, propelled it headlong into the Pheacock. The two collided with a combined yelp-honk that sounded like someone stomped on a bagpipe. The bird flailed his wings and fish-flopped about until he righted himself and scurried away. The dog turned to face Dorian. Its tail swayed gently from side to side.

“Gary? How did you get here? Is Leslie with you?” Dorian worked his way back into a squatting position. Gary walked to greet him. He tucked his head beneath Dorian’s outstretched hand. As the two made contact the hair on Dorian’s forearm grew dense and thick. The phenomenon continued to spread toward his shoulder. He quickly pulled his hand away, but not before hearing Gary say, “Man, am I glad to see you!”

Dorian stared back in amazement. Gary grumbled and whimpered quietly. The hair growth on Dorian’s arm receded.

“Did you say something?” Dorian asked, not knowing whether he wanted to hear an answer.

Gary barked quietly. Dorian heard only a bark.

“That’s a relief!” He thought.

Gary sat and looked at Dorian with his head cocked and his best puppy dog eyes. It was a move Gary used whenever he wanted a pat on the head or a belly rub. Dorian instinctively reached out. As soon as they connected a fresh growth of fur shot up Dorian’s arm and he most undoubtedly heard Gary say, “Leslie’s in trouble, and I need your help!”

Dorian continued to hold his hand on Gary’s head. Fur spread quickly across his shoulders and up his neck. He heard a crackling and felt his ears rise to points. A tingling spun around the center of his face as his nose pushed outward and began to form a snout.

“If you’ve got more to say make it quick!” he barked at Gary.

“They’re holding him in an underground grotto . . .”

Dorian’s hand slipped off of Gary’s head as his palm grew pads and his fingers pulled back to complete the paw. The break-in contact halted the transformation. The echo of distant footfalls grew louder signaling someone was headed for the aviary. Dorian jumped up and ran to the walnut doors, pulling one open.

“Gary, go through these doors and straight down the hallway. The door at the other end leads to the parking area. Wait for us by the car!” Dorian pointed frantically. Gary ran in the opposite direction, disappearing into the tall grass.

“What are you doing?” Dorian yelled.

Gary bounded from the greenery carrying a neatly wrapped bundle of denim in his mouth. He shot past Dorian and headed toward the kitchen and hopefully out the door and to the car.