A Shadow of Wings by Linda Gayle

losing his temper earlier. The older trice had been both teacher and friend to him since Cam had first left the basilica. In fact, Tash might even be his father. There was no way to tell. “Not many have spent as long in human form as you, either. It might explain your aberrant affection for them.”
    Was that what they’d think of his attraction to Dylan? That it was unnatural? Of course it was. And so would Dylan, if he knew Cam’s true form, which he must never. Cam poured the water into the coffee, mopping up the spill with a dishtowel when he stirred too hard. When he thought about last night, it seemed like an impossible dream. 
    “I like people,” he said. “I can’t believe the brothers would object to that. Doesn’t it help if we don’t see them as enemies?”
    “Perhaps, but you can never trust them, not fully. Thanks.” Tash took the coffee, and Cam wished he’d focus on it and not on him so much. He’d always felt as if his teacher could see right through him. “Above all, don’t forget that you aren’t one of them. I can tell you one thing”—he set down his cup and stretched his arms up and back over his head—“I can’t wait to be out of this bloody human body. It’s been years, and I feel like I’m wearing a suit two sizes too small for me.” 
    When Tash closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the gold chain around his throat—the charm that bound him—the shadow of his soul spread about him, and Cam could see the strong thrust of Tash’s wings and the glow of a golden crown above his head. Only a cockatrice could see another trice’s soul, and even then rarely, only when the creature was off guard or perhaps agitated. Then the human guise weakened, and the true beast beneath shone through.
    It dissipated when Tash opened his eyes again and, with a heavy sigh, spooned sugar into his coffee. Mentoring, which required this form, was considered an honor, but it was also a burdensome task. For a trice to stay in his human body for so long drove most of them to the limits of their endurance. 
    Except for Cam. He’d never admitted it to his mentor, but he felt more at home in his man’s shape than he did in scales and feathers. The day the brothers had placed the charm about his throat, confining him to this body, however temporarily, had been like an awakening.
    Worried Tash would read his thoughts in his eyes, he said, “Do you want anything to eat?” while he pulled down cereal and a bowl for himself.
    “What, not going to ask anything else about my trip? Don’t you want to know what else Arum had to say?” He waved his spoon in Cam’s general direction. “You must be itching to be out of that soft flesh too. And you’ve gotten to mating age.”
    “I…I’m not interested in that yet. I feel like I have some other purpose.”
    “Funny you should say that, because Arum said something similar. When I told him of the calling, he thought we should wait to bring you back to the basilica. Leave you out in the world, see what comes of it.”
    Cam’s relief was short-lived when Tash continued. “There’s been an increase in weasel activity in Costa Rica. Arum said he’d meet with the council and recommend you be sent there after a fashion. He feels your calling might help you root out nests and put down swarms.”
    “I don’t want to go to Costa Rica,” Cam bit out before he could stop himself. He took a deep breath when Tash glowered at him. “I like it here. I feel like I still have much to learn.”
    “Like what?” Tash waved an arm toward the window overlooking the street. “This area is spiritually depressed, and God knows there’s no treasure. There’s nothing for us to do. That’s why I felt safe leaving you while I went back to Rome.” He leaned his weight on one elbow, his expression intent. “Well, Costa Rica’s only conjecture at this point. And anyhow, there’s other news as well. Arum told me this year’s clutch had only three eggs. Three, when