Chapter One
Seto Kaiba was so engrossed in his computer that he failed to notice a falcon swoop onto the windowsill and stare at him beadily.
Hah! he thought with satisfaction. And with that transaction, another fifty grand to me.
The falcon turned its head quizzically so that it watched him with just one yellow eye.
Seto was feeling rather exhilarated today. KaibaCorp stocks were up by 27 percent, he had made almost one million dollars in the space of three hours, and he almost felt like going out to a fancy restaurant and ordering all the mint gelatos he could possibly eat.
He yawned and stretched, thinking, it's time for a break. The CEO pushed back his chair and stood up, quickly locking his laptop with the press of a platinum-plated computer key. The screen faded to black and the little green light switched to yellow, for standby mode.
It was then that a rather annoying tapping sound came to his attention. Seto turned around to find the source of the irritating noise, and then saw the silver falcon staring at him pointedly through the glass.
For a moment Seto just stared at it disbelievingly. The way it looked at him was almost human—- and it was plainly saying, let me in!
He shot it what he hoped was an intimidating, contemptuous look and turned his back. Seto was reaching for the doorknob when the falcon gave a deafening shriek that stabbed at his eardrums. Simultaneously, it sent a strange shiver down his spine.
Whirling around in a sudden fury, he shouted, "Shut up!"
The bird had disappeared from the sill and was gone from sight.
He stared at the window, feeling rather stupid.
Suddenly a grayish speck materialized out of the clear blue sky, hurtling toward him. It became larger but was nothing more than a blur. Now Seto realized where the bird had gone, but right now he was more worried about where it was going.
With no sign of stopping, the falcon continued to plunge straight downward, on a crash course with the window.
What the—?
There was a huge explosion as the glass shattered, and beams of blue light filled the room, blinding him. He ducked, and little shards came whistling over his head, narrowly missing him. Seto backed up quickly out of the path of the wayward glass.
When the sapphire glow had faded, his office was a mess. The larger pieces of glass had gone and bowled over the things on his desk: the penholder, a precariously stacked heap of file folders and several other miscellaneous items. The smaller splinters had embedded themselves in the walls and the carpet. A gargantuan slice of the window had sailed clear across the room and narrowly missed his head by inches, entrenching itself in the wall above him.
Whatever trace of a good mood Seto had acquired was immediately extinguished. The old sullen fire, which had been tempered down to a few lukewarm coals, was now smoldering with rage and resentment again.
Muttering under his breath, he picked his way through the sea of broken glass, over to the smashed window. The psychopath falcon had disappeared from the skyline.
He scanned the horizon, wondering in spite of himself where it had gone.
A shrill cry that came from behind him gave him a shock.
Spinning around furiously, Seto realized that the irritating bird had been sitting on the neck of his lamp the whole time, watching him in amusement.
The falcon blinked at him nonchalantly and began to groom itself.
"Get out," he growled at it.
It shook its head firmly, an alarmingly human gesture, and resumed its preening.
Seto stared at it with narrowed eyes. He wasn't one to be startled easily, but this was something entirely new. He had stared into the face of everything from gargantuan virtual fire demons to the Dark Magician and not twitched a muscle, but this was something else completely. This bird had seemingly generated a weird blue light all by itself, demolished his office single-handedly, and was now sassing him like nobody's business.
Any notion of mint gelatos quite gone from his mind, he started wrathfully toward the uncouth creature. "You'll be sorry," he snarled, taking a swipe at the falcon. It hopped nimbly aside, unruffled, and eyed him calmly.
"You might want to rethink that statement," said a cool female voice.
Seto froze, feeling numb. Was he going insane? Had that bird just spoken?
"Are you listening to me?" inquired the bird, looking at him composedly.
He stared disbelievingly at the falcon, not answering.
"Yes," said the bird, answering its (her) own question. "You are. I am sorry I had to smash your window, but I had no other alternative. I can fix it momentarily." She swiveled her golden eyes over to the mess on the floor. The jagged shards radiated the same blue light and slowly floated back into their places, like a jigsaw puzzle. Seto watched dazedly, not believing his eyes. Was he hallucinating? This just couldn't be real…
"So," continued the bird, fixing Seto once more with the yellow stare that bored into him. "You're probably wondering why a talking falcon has just smashed its way into your tower. Actually, I can't really answer that question. If I had my way, there wouldn't be any window smashing. But—" the bird paused and sighed dramatically—"There was no other choice, I'm afraid."
"What are you talking about?" Seto demanded. "You're just wasting my time, stupid bird," he muttered under his breath. He tried to cross the room to the door, but the falcon cut in smoothly, "I heard that, and I am not a stupid bird. As a matter of fact, I'm not even a bird."
"What?" He stopped and turned around. Part of him wished he could just strangle this invader, but he was curious in spite of himself.
"I am what some call an houri, some call a faerie and some call a god," said the falcon simply. "This is not my true form, but a mask to host me on earth."
Seto looked skeptically at the bird, one eyebrow raised, but he did not reply.
"You are not convinced," the bird pointed out.
Although Seto didn't use it often, the word duh would have been very appropriate for this situation.
"Look," he said roughly. "I don't really care who you are and what you're trying to prove, just get out of my office!"
The falcon didn't move.
"No," it said calmly.
Seto sat back down in his chair helplessly and put his head in his hands. This was too much… All he wanted was a mint gelato; he didn't want to have to reason with dumb talking birds…
He looked up and got the shock of his life. Sitting on the lamp (the lamp?) where a falcon had been moments before was a girl. She had raven-black hair that was pulled into two tight braids, well-tanned skin, and radiant golden eyes that shone like twin suns. She was looking at Seto solemnly, her hands clasped around her knees.
Seto stood up so fast that his chair rocketed to the wall behind him and crashed. The girl didn't even twitch at the livid, merciless expression on his face. She seemed to be a statue, sitting there silently and unmoving.
Come to think of it, the lamp was not even bending under her weight. What was wrong with this person?
"Get—out—or —I'll—"
"Or you'll what?" she asked coolly, speaking in the falcon's voice. Seto took a step backward and nearly impaled himself on his chair. To add insult to injury, the girl nimbly leapt from the lamp to his desktop, landing so lightly that the pencil holder didn't even rattle, and said, "Are you all right?"
Turning red with rage and embarrassment, he muttered through clenched teeth, "Fine." He stood up, wishing he could melt through the floor and forget about this whole screwed incident.
The girl, still somber, gave him a piercing stare, while Seto thought murderous thoughts, his fists clenched.
"Am I scaring you?" she said curiously. "There's no reason to be scared of girls, you know. Would you rather I turned back into a falcon?"
"Yes, and go far away," snarled Seto.
"I'm sorry, but I can't," she said politely, sitting on the edge of his desk.
"And why not?" Seto shot back.
"This isn't a coincidence," continued the girl in that maddeningly serene voice, swinging her legs back and forth. "I was sent here."
"By who?"
The girl resumed her annoying staring routine and did not answer.
"Okay okay, I won't ask," Seto said, beginning to be interested. "Um… could you turn back into a falcon again? …Please?" The word sounded funny coming from him, probably because he usually refrained from using such trivial things as manners.
The girl gave him a half-weary, half-long-suffering look and slowly transformed. At first it looked as if she was dissolving in a mist of golden sparks, but she merely shrank. Then the mist disappeared and a silver falcon was looking up at him from the desk.
"Every time I do that, it takes away some of my power, you know," she said. "I can't be switching every time you feel like it."
"Well, too bad," Seto replied rather nastily, beginning to feel like he was in control again and liking the feeling of superiority. "You should have known that I didn't like girls before you did transform." He leaned over and set his chair back upright again, and then grabbed the doorknob. "Now if you'll excuse me, I am going out to lunch. Do not mess up my office."
The falcon laughed meanly at the look on his face. "Don't get anything messy?" she said cruelly. "Well you don't have to worry about that, because I'm coming with you." And with that, she glided off the desk and landed on his arm.
"Augh! Get off my arm!" he shouted. "Give me a break," he said, when the falcon gave him a beseeching look. "I am not going out into public with a falcon on my shoulder." He made falcon sound like midden.
"But I want to come," she begged, sounding like a two-year-old. "I want to see the city, and I'm hungry, and I'm thirsty—"
"All right, all right," Seto said exasperatedly. "Just— keep quiet and fly above me, all right? And don't land on my arm again, because it hurts."
"Well, too bad," the bird mimicked impertinently. "Let's go."
They set off into the hall, the falcon sneaking along above him, gliding near the ceiling. Seto strode importantly over to his secretary's desk, where she was cataloguing something on the computer. She had mousy brown hair in a flyaway ponytail and round glasses. He set a piece of paper on her desk. "I'm going out," he said brusquely, and walked away.
The secretary, whose name was Meryl Renzawa, delicately picked up the slip of paper.
I have transferred one million dollars into the KaibaCorp funds. I will be out the rest of the day. You may take the day off.
Delighted, Meryl gathered her things and was out the door in five seconds flat.
She pelted down the stairs, her heart beating fast. He had written it in his own hand, not on the computer! Did that mean anything?
Meryl stopped on a landing and leaned against the railing. She sighed. Of course it didn't. Even if it did mean something, Meryl would be too scared to speak to Mr. Kaiba anyhow.
She set her satchel down on the floor and took a hand mirror out of her purse. Meryl hurriedly fixed her hair into a better ponytail— no matter what she did to it; her hair seemed to act alive; it would jump right out of her ponytail so that it looked as if she hadn't brushed it in a week.
Finally satisfied, Meryl stowed the mirror away, grabbed her satchel, and continued the long trip down the stairs.
In ten minutes she was squinting up at the bright sun, on the sidewalk in front of KaibaCorp. Her flat was only three blocks away from the giant building, so she walked. Plus, it saved money.
Hopefully she looked around for any sign of Mr. Kaiba. Her heart sank, and she knew that he took the elevator; she wouldn't meet him here anyway.
At least I have a day off! she thought, and started off to her apartment.