Un2talented (Book 3 of the Un2 Series)

“You guys ain’t gonna believe this!” Shorty called as he and Lanky began their descent into the cavern.

“That was quick!” Reese returned.

“Yeah, I thought we were going to have to chase those buggers down and pluck their asses, but the weirdest thing happened.”

“It was so weird!” Lanky agreed.

The pair arrived at the cavern floor and presented a cluster of bright crimson tailfeathers to Lenny. Shorty blew on his now empty hand and shook it. “Those things get hot!”

“So, what happened?” Leslie asked.

“Okay, so, Lanky and I exit the elevator and enter the bird room . . .”

“Aviary,” Lanky interjected.

“What?”

“Aviary. The room with the birds is called an aviary.”

Shorty rolled his eyes. “So, we enter the aviary and notice that all of the Phoecocks are gathered over to one side. I’m thinking that this is a good thing because we won’t have to hunt those suckers down one by one to pluck a butt feather or two.”

Lanky sighed and shook his head.

“What now?” Shorty replied; a bit miffed.

“Butt feather?”

“Since when are you Mister Proper Talking Guy?”

“Just continue.”

“I will, thank you very much! So, the birds are gathered together, and we don’t want to startle them, so we casually saunter over to them like we don’t even know that they’re there. The whole time we’re sauntering they’re watchin’ us.”

Shorty points two fingers at his eyes and then forward and then back at his eyes.

“This is the weird part. When we get right upon them, they’re all lined up, side by side. They all bow down and put their wings forward over their heads like they’re diving into a pool or something! They take a step back and lying there on the floor is a bouquet of tailfeathers, nice and neat, like they knew we were comin’ for ’em!”

“That’s very strange!” Reese exclaimed.

“Is it stranger than Shorty using the word ‘sauntering’?” Joey chuckled.

“I was trying to make up for the butt feathers. Quit busting my balls!” Shorty chuckled back.

“Shorty and I are working on our vocabulary, you know, so we can elevate ourselves beyond being henchmen,” Lanky added with a sense of pride in his voice.

“What happens now?” Leslie asked.

“I want each of you to take a feather and position yourselves next to an urn.”

Lenny handed out feathers to the group and they all took their places.

“When I say ‘NOW’ I want you to insert the quill of your feathers into the earth within your vessel. As soon as you do that come back over and stand near me. Nod if you understand.”

Everybody nodded.

“NOW.”

The feathers were simultaneously planted into the urns and the group returned to gather around Lenny.

“I’m glad we didn’t do that ‘1,2,3’ thing “Lanky confessed. “That never works out right. Is it on three? Is it after three?”

Gary barked in agreement.

The air filled with a static charge that pulled at the hair on any exposed body part creating a collective tingle throughout the group, including Gary whose rear leg peddled like it did when someone would scratch that one special place along his ribcage. The Phoecock plumes rippled as if caressed by a soft breeze. Golden halos formed around the rims of the vessels as the barbs on each feather spread like the opening of fingers. They reached toward the adjacent feathers moving at times like serpents and at other times like flickering flames. The barbs met and then braided together and then quickly laced upward and inward to form a lacey dome that gently undulated over the stone gazebo and the portal within it. A second surge of energy raced upward through the quills and exited through the eyes on each of the Phoecock feathers. An amber beam connected from one eye, across the portal, to the eye across from it creating a golden pentagram a dozen feet above the cavern floor.

“It’s beautiful!” Reese gasped.

“Uh, aren’t pentagrams kind of evil?” Shorty asked.

“They can be depending on the user’s intent,” Lenny explained. “Most of the ancient symbols serve both sides. In our case, the pentagram harnesses the five points of power. It links earth, wind, fire, water, and spirit to provide us with the protection we need. For us, it is a good thing. For anyone opposing us, not so much.”

As if on cue, a pair of winged creatures that looked to be equal parts pigeon and the stuff that gets caught in a kitchen sink strainer lit on the rim of the portal. They surveyed their surroundings with dull green eyes that had red pimento-like pupils. The larger of the two cocked its head and coughed up a wad of matted hair.

Gary growled.

The olive-eyed sink pigeon turned its attention to the group. It lowered its head and returned Gary’s growl sounding like a fork in a garbage disposal. It bolted towards Gary but was halted abruptly when it slammed into the Phoecock feather barrier. It screamed and rocketed upward toward the top of the dome where it encountered the amber pentagram.

A collective “WHOA!” gushed from the group as the sink pigeon disintegrated into a shower of sparks that filled the dome-like fireworks on the fourth of July.

The group turned its attention to the remaining creature. It fidgeted nervously as it glanced from person to person.

It squawked, “Um, I think I left the iron plugged in!” and jumped back into the portal.

“And that, my friends, is how a handful of feathers is going to protect our collective backsides!” Lenny asserted.