"Son of a bitch," Hank roared in frustration. "We have to get her back. Of course it would help if I could freakin’ move."
"Ease up, Bro," Junior said as he gave a hand signal to the Pigeons.
They drove a golf cart over and proceeded to dump Hank, Dima and myself in the back.
"Should we cover them up?" a male Pigeon inquired as he patted my head sweetly and gently pushed the bloody hair out of Dima's face.
"Yep," Junior said. "Keep ‘em covered until we get them out to my SUV in the parking lot. And let me tell you something… you sons of bitches were goddamned incredible. I have never seen such focused and direct violent bloodshed—very little wasted movement. I'd like to bring a few of you down to Georgia to do some combat training with my Pack if that might interest you."
"It most certainly does," the gal who started the whole Brad Pitt scream-peck-fest said with pride. "Most Weres discount us as beneath them because we're birds. We would be honored to visit you in Georgia."
"Anyone who discounts you is a dumbass," I muttered as the golf cart jerked forward.
"And are you a dumbass?" the Pigeon inquired as she peeked under the tarp.
"Absolutely not," I told her with a grin as the feeling in my legs slowly began to come back. "I'm a smartass."
Her laugh was musical and I decided maybe I was wrong about never wanting to see a Were Pigeon again. I certainly never wanted to be on their bad side, but their fighting technique was outstanding. I could learn something from them.
"Do you shoot?" I asked the Pigeon as her giggles died down.
"Name's Birdie," she said as she shoved her hand under the tarp, grabbed my still limp one in a firm grip and shook it.
"Essie," I said as I bit back a laugh at her moniker.
"You can laugh," she said with a put upon sigh. "Everyone else does. My Mamma was a little out there and very literal—hence the name."
"I actually like it," I told her.
It was adorable, just like her. Of course, she was also one of the most violent Weres I'd ever come across, but she was cute.
"As for shooting…" Birdie said thoughtfully. "Not really. I'd sure like to learn."
"How about I trade you some shooting lessons for some lessons on whatever the hell you just did to those Wolves?"
"Take her up on it," Junior advised my new friend as he jogged alongside the golf cart. "Essie can shoot the teats off a cow three counties over… blindfolded."
"Deal," Birdie said. "I'm always here, so you just come find me when you're ready."
"You live here at the zoo?" I asked.
"Yep. Got everything we need right here."
"Do you guys own the zoo?"
"You could say that," she said with a wink and a grin. "Kinda depends on who's in office, but we own most of the real estate in the Midwest."
"For real?" I asked impressed.
I never knew Weres were such shrewd businesspeople.
"For real," Birdie said. "Now take care and don't get killed. I don't make new friends too often, so when I do I like to keep ‘em."
"Will do," I promised with a grin.
"Thank you for defending us today," Hank said as he gingerly rolled up on his side. "We're indebted to you."
"Ahhh, it was fun. Haven't been in a smackdown in at least two weeks. Call it even," Birdie said as she slapped a wobbly Hank on the back.
"Much obliged," Junior said gratefully as he helped transfer us to his SUV. "I'll be in touch about Georgia."
"We'll be waiting!" Birdie yelled as we pulled away.
About a hundred or so Pigeons waved goodbye as we slowly rolled through the parking lot and onto Lakeshore Drive. I shook my head and grinned as Dima gaped at the Were Pigeons. She had missed the whole thing. She was never going to believe it, but that was not my problem. I was just happy to be alive.
Now we had to go after Angela.
***
"You have got to be kidding me," I shouted as Junior approached me with a needle the size of an arm.
"Goddamn it Junior, why did you have to show her the needle? You know how she feels about getting stabbed," Hank grumbled as he held me still.
Dima sat in silence on the far side of the room and watched in horror.
We'd made it back to Dwayne's in record time since Junior drove like a bat out of hell on speed. Junior had quickly created an anti-serum for the poison the Wolves had injected into our bodies. I'd wisely shut my eyes while Junior worked on Hank and stupidly opened them as he came to work on me.
"Wait," Dima said with a confused shake of her head and the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "You can rip the head off of a Dragon, but you're a weenie when it comes to getting a shot?"
"Dude," I shouted. "That is not a shot. That is a freakin' pole with a point. And I am not a weenie."
"Actually, you are," Junior said logically.
"No, I'm not."
"Are," he said with a smirk.
"Do you want your nuts lodged in your esophagus?" I inquired politely as Hank swallowed a bark of laughter.
"Is that a trick question?" Junior asked with narrowed eyes.
"Nope."
"Since I plan to father ten to twenty-four kids with Sandy Moongie, I'd like to keep my nuts in my underpants," Junior said as he took three steps closer to me. "Essie, shut your damn eyes."