Page 57 of The Timeless Vigilante

Proudly, Bermuda turned to Gen. “Aren’t magical creatures simply amazing?”

“They really are,” she replied, smiling widely.

Bermuda gave her a look of surprise. “No sarcastic reply or joke? Are you sure you’re a Beaufont?”

“I’m the first one,” she answered at once. “Alongside my father. So yes.”

“Well, I think I like you most so far,” Bermuda said, turning and striding for another set of aviaries beside this one.

Gen followed, not sure if she should be happy for this compliment or defensive of her relatives.

“Over here, we have what’s known as the hit song birds,” Bermuda said, reaching into the aviary this time, not ducking into it. When she pulled back her hand, there perched on it was a single little brown bird. It was so plain in comparison to the bright and colorful blooming cockatiel that it was a little underwhelming.

“What’s special about this magical creature?” Gen asked, looking at the tiny, plain animal and trying not to seem disappointed.

“This little bird gets more visitors from famous music producers and Hollywood superstars than any creature on the planet,” Bermuda said proudly. “I don’t think he cares for the attention, but his talent earns him it.”

“You mean the people who make the music in this time period?” Gen asked, confused by these strange references.

“Exactly,” Bermuda stated, holding up the bird. “You see, some birds sing nice melodies. Some have enchanting calls. But the hit song bird, well, every time she sings, it’s a tune that will stop thousands in their tracks. It’s so compelling that it’s a song that’s destined to be a hit.”

“So, people who make the music study this bird and take its songs for the masses?” Gen asked, trying to understand.

Bermuda shook her head. “No, they steal it. They take the hit song bird’s melody and reproduce it and make millions, never looking back. But that’s how the music industry goes. They take the inspiration from nature and call it their own. We can’t blame the lesser talented for not knowing how to make their own music. And really, if they don’t know the joy of producing art on their own, then they are truly the ones suffering.”

“Wow,” Gen mused, not sure what to make of this poetic lesson that she never expected from the giantess who once she would have feared. Her life had truly changed and definitely in ways she’d never expected and most likely for the better—if she could just understand the conundrum that was transportation, clogging up the streets.

“Wow, indeed,” Bermuda said dryly, turning and striding for yet another aviary.

Gen followed her, enjoying a soft wind that picked up, carrying her long braid around her shoulder and tickling her skin with a nice softness. When Bermuda went to open the door to the next aviary, she turned around, checking that Gen was at her back. She halted before pulling back the door, a look of surprise on her face.

“Oh, I see you’ve already found the next bird I was going to show you,” Bermuda said, pointing to Gen’s head.

She abruptly turned, thinking she was about to be attacked by some bird of prey or something. There was nothing there.

“What?” She spun around, facing the giantess again. “I don’t see anything.”

The woman sternly shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t since the wind bird is invisible, but it’s clearly beside you, kicking up that breeze you must no doubt feel.”

Just then, Gen felt something brush up against her face—like a feather. She jerked to the side, peering at nothing with annoyance. “That’s a bird? There’s an invisible bird beside my head?”

Bermuda held up her hand and the breeze disappeared. “Not anymore. It’s presently on me. But it was beside you.” She proudly looked above her arm at what appeared to be nothing. “The wind bird is responsible for changes in weather patterns, scattering seeds and ruining outside events. Its wings, which you can’t see, are quite impressive and produce a wind that people can feel for miles. It is quite the incredible bird, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s what is responsible for wind?” Gen asked, confused.

Bermuda shook her head. “It’s one of many things. Wind is also a natural phenomenon. But wind is created by people and butterflies and events and all sorts of other factors. But yes, the wind bird is one.”

“That’s fascinating,” Gen mused, amazed by all that she’d learned that day.

“Quite.” Bermuda looked up suddenly. “Oh, and look, here is another creature responsible for creating wind with its large wingspan. And isn’t he the most amazing dragon one has ever witnessed?”

Gen looked up just as Emperor glided to a smooth landing atop the roof, looking as majestic and regal as ever.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

MUSEUM MYSTERIES FROM ABOVE

Rooftop, Downtown Los Angeles, California, United States

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