Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
From my hidden vantage, I watch the show’s intro video flash across a large screen. It’s a montage of exotic birds, swirling colors, and upbeat music that the zoo’s marketing team whipped up last week. Then the lights shift, and an announcer booms over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our brand-new Magic in Flight spectacle! Please put your hands together for our resident magician… Orion Locke… and his talented co-star… Jeb the African Grey!”
The crowd bursts into cheers, and I feel a wave of pride wash over me. Orion steps onto the stage, tall and confident, wearing a fitted black jacket, jeans, and the slightest hint of a smirk. He’s come a long way from bullet wounds and bodyguard gear. Now, with a deck of cards in one hand and a small top hat perched on a stand nearby, he cuts a striking figure. The sun glints off his dark hair, and I recall countless nights watching him practice those card tricks in secret, never imagining he’d one day perform them in front of an audience.
“All right, everybody,” Orion’s voice echoes warmly, projected by the mic clipped to his lapel. “I’m not your typical magician—but I’ve got a not-so-typical helper, too. Meet Jeb!”
On cue, Jeb flutters out from the side, perched on a little rolling stand. The crowd gasps and giggles as the African Grey greets them with a squawk, then a surprisingly clear “Hello, everyone!” He’s been practicing that line for days.
Orion’s grin widens. “Care to pick a card, Jeb?”
He fans out a deck in front of the bird, who cocks his head, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “Bah-hah-mas,” a leftover from Ranger’s tall tales, then pecks at the center card. Orion flips it to show the audience—an Ace of Hearts—and slides it back into the deck.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Orion continues, “keep your eyes on Jeb. He’s going to help me find that exact card again.”
The crowd murmurs, enthralled. In typical comedic fashion, Jeb leans forward, plucks a random card from the deck with his beak, and flings it onto the stage floor. Orion bends to pick it up, revealing… the Ace of Hearts. Applause erupts, the kids in the front row bouncing in excitement. But Jeb isn’t done—he squawks, and Orion plays along like he’s listening to the bird’s instructions.
“Oh, you want to do one more trick?” Orion says, raising an eyebrow. He lifts the top hat, which the audience can see is empty. With a flourish, he sets it on the ground, taps it thrice with a wand, then tips it over. A flurry of bright confetti rains out, revealing a small plush parrot toy that Orion swears wasn’t inside before. The crowd howls with delight. Jeb, apparently miffed at the sudden confetti storm, ruffles his feathers and says, “What the—?” in his squeaky approximation of Orion’s voice, sending the audience into hysterics.
I can’t help laughing softly from the sidelines, heart brimming with pride and warmth. We did it, I think, chest light. Orion’s so at ease in front of the crowd, and Jeb is a total ham, soaking up every ounce of attention. As the act continues, Orion transitions to illusions involving small hoops, bright silks, and Jeb’s impeccable comedic timing. At one point, Jeb “steals” Orion’s wand, flying just a foot above the stage while holding it in his beak, and the children in the front row nearly fall over with laughter.
The final trick is a showstopper: Orion pretends to vanish Jeb in a big, glittering box. Everyone gasps when Orion opens the box to reveal it empty. The stage lights dim, suspense thick in the air. Then a spotlight appears on the back of the amphitheater, illuminating Jeb perched on a technician’s booth, bobbing his head like he owns the place. The crowd explodes in cheers.
I swallow the lump in my throat, overwhelmed by the joy in the amphitheater. This is my job now—helping these amazing birds shine, entertaining and educating people, and, apparently, staging magic shows that highlight Orion’s secret talent. I can’t believe how far we’ve come.
The show wraps with a thunderous round of applause. Orion takes a bow, then nods toward Jeb, who dips his head in what looks like a respectful acknowledgment but is probably just him wanting a treat. People file out, chatting excitedly, several kids begging their parents to let them see the show again tomorrow. My heart soars.
As the last visitors trickle away, I step onto the stage from behind the curtain, crossing toward Orion. He’s gently coaxing Jeb into stepping onto his forearm, passing him off to one of our fellow trainers so Jeb can rest and get some well-earned snacks. The instant he sees me, Orion’s face lights up, eyes warm.
We meet in the middle of the stage, the amphitheater almost empty now. “That was incredible,” I say, voice trembling with excitement. “You two had them in the palm of your hand.”