Flight (16 page)

“We’ve been waiting for you, to tell you the truth. We’ve set everything up to lead you in this direction. Why else would we leave confidential documents in your kitchen? Why do you think I supplied you with Ten? Your hatred for the Corp could spark the flame of revolution, Piper,” he says.

I’m a little bit flabbergasted as I piece together the details in my head. Then I laugh, that confused kind of laugh where I don’t know whether it’s funny or sad or frightening.

“We still need to handle the mole situation,” Grier interrupts mildly.

“I think I’ve got a lead on who it might be,” I reply. She gives me a look that says
go on
.

“Tor. It has to be Tor. Who else has contact with Central? I got a call from Rupert after the hunt. He knew about it, Grier. Of course he didn’t know the details and I told him it was a bust, but he
knew
. That can only mean that someone in the room at the time of the meeting had to be the one to inform him.”

Sandy nods carefully.

“He’s been the main suspect, besides you. We knew Rupert would get to you, but didn’t know whether you would follow through. The problem is that we need proof, and he keeps up a pretty good image around here,” he says.

“But he and Piper have a history, right? We could work that to our advantage,” Grier chimes in.

“Give me some time to work with him, alright? Things have been a little strained between us and it would seem a little suspicious if I suddenly wanted to be close like we once were,” I say.

Sandy nods in agreement. “That’s probably the best solution. I’ll leave you with that, then, and at our next meeting we’ll update the situation. Our meetings are kind of impromptu, but you’ll be informed the time and place.”

“Perfect,” I say. I haven’t even had a chance to order a cup of coffee, but if I want to get cracking on this, the sooner the better. “Oh, and don’t tell Myra anything. I’d like to inform her myself.”

Both of them nod a small salute and I resist the urge to make a comment about their intimacy. I leave them at the table, hatching the beginnings of plans in my mind. Sandy calls out to me just before I leave.

“And Piper? Welcome to Valhalla.”

As suspected, Tor’s in the Corp lounge, scrawling through items on his Comp screen. It’s the first time I’ve seen anyone use that kind of technology since coming here. He smiles when he sees me.

“I thought you had the day off today,” he says.

I gesture to the folder of papers I have tucked under my arm. “Just catching up on some paperwork,” I reply.

He eyes my folder like it’s forbidden fruit as I sit down at the next desk over. He waits while I pull out my files before he asks the question I’ve been waiting for.

“Do you have the report from the last mission? I’d like to take a look at it,” he remarks casually. I shake my head.

“Already filed and sealed with Myra,” I say.

This causes Tor’s eyes to cast downward, but he corrects his expression quickly. “That’s too bad. Don’t you think it a bit strange, here? Myra’s definitely got a different way of thinking than back home. I can’t imagine Rupert keeping mission notes from other team members,” he says.

That’s what you think
, I say to myself. “I don’t know what to think. All I’m focused on is making sure no one gets hurt,” I respond.

“That’s you. Always working. Between you and me, can you tell me the details of the mission? You know I only want to know enough to keep everything running smoothly,” he says.

If I didn’t suspect him, maybe I’d perceive this comment differently, but now it’s like a red flag whipping in the wind.

“It was a dud, Tor. We found nothing to go off of,” I say with a sigh. Tor kicks his boots lightly on the chair beneath him.

“That’s what Rupert said you told him. I just thought you must have found something after all of the activity reports.”

My heart thumps wildly.
That’s what Rupert said you told him
. I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We would have followed up if we’d found anything. Besides, what the hell are you doing talking with Rupert about me?” I retort. It’s difficult to control the anger seeping from my voice. Tor displays tell-tale signs of his guilt. His cheeks flush, and sweat drips from his brow as he stammers, trying to find a legitimate excuse, I’m guessing. He stops completely for a minute, then reaches for my hand, which I forcefully yank away.

“We’re all just worried about you, that’s all. Piper, after everything that happened you were lucky to be alive. I don’t know all the details, but whatever got a hold of…him was monstrous. A person can’t just get over that without trauma. And I know you, I know how you deal with things. You run and pretend it didn’t happen, but it did, and after you took off… Hell, I didn’t know whether or not you were even alive. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I should have been there for you in the beginning and I wasn’t. It kills me every day,” he spills.

I pinch myself, ignoring the pain in my sinuses as I avoid tears. But there’s an obvious flaw in his story. David wasn’t attacked by a Harpy or some kind of monster. It was me. I was the one who did it. Is this the story the Corp has been throwing around? To save me, or to save themselves? I force myself to lay a hand on Tor’s shoulder.

“Tor, trust me, I’m okay. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not running, I’m not going anywhere. Every day thoughts of the past become thinner, like air. You didn’t have to be there in the beginning, we were already over—”

“—I could have helped you. I can’t help but feel like you’ve been avoiding me since you came here, and I don’t blame you at all, but I want to apologize for not being there when you needed me the most.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to do. I don’t know where the lies end and the truth begins, but even through it all, I believe him when he says this. All I can do for now is invite him into my arms, stroking his back as he sobs tears saved from a year ago, just whispering,

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

He takes me out for lunch at a deli near the Corp building, and for a while it’s just like old times. We laugh and remember the past, but every time his phone buzzes, I’m sharply reminded that he’s not my Tor anymore. He’s morphed into something else. He catches me staring off.

“Piper,” he says. I jump slightly and focus back on him, wishing as he looks at me that we could be friends again, that it hadn’t turned out this way. “The Elder Corp Annual Banquet is coming up. It’s going to be here in Ichton this year.” The Banquet is a masked affair of lavish dress, food, and dancing. Even the memory of it makes me smile in spite of myself.

“Why in Ichton?” I ask. Every Banquet I can remember has been held in one of the grand halls in Central. Why move it here?

“Rupert thinks the Clan will move in on Ichton if all the Hunters are in Central,” he replies. I nod in response. It’s a good plan to avoid infiltration by Harpies. It’s also a good plan for Rupert and his team to get in here and do some snooping around. Tor eyes me suddenly, and his cheeks turn rosy. I raise an eyebrow in question.

“I don’t have a date for it. Do you want to go with me?” he asks. I think of all of the Banquets we’ve been to together, sneaking off into the back halls, the one time we came already too drunk and were asked to leave. The memory makes me smile, but I know that all of that is firmly rooted in the past.

“As friends?” I say. I don’t know if I imagine his expression turning sour or not, but in an instant he’s flashing that old smile.

“Friends,” he says with a nod.

We always meet at night. He leaves a tiny drawing of sparrows on my windowsill to let me know he wants to meet up. I keep them all in a box under my bed, some on paper, some scribbled on the backs of napkins and take-out menus; each one is beautiful and unique and just for me. Usually we run through findings; documents, reports and the like, but sometimes when we have nothing we sit and talk and look at the stars. He’s become my secret, the one thing I haven’t told anyone else about.

Tonight Asher’s waiting for me when I reach our place, a pile of papers lying on the floor at his feet. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is messy and more all over the place than usual.

“You’re late,” he says as I rush in and crouch on my knees beside him.

“Sorry, I had to get rid of Shelley before I could leave,” I say apologetically. Even Shelley doesn’t know where I go late at night. It’s easier for me to leave when she’s out to avoid any questioning. “Is everything okay?” I ask. There are pronounced bags under his eyes, and his skin is sickly pallid. He waves it off.

“Family stuff, don’t worry about it. Anyway I did some recon work over the weekend and managed to find these tucked away in a book at home,” he says, pointing to the disastrous pile of papers at his feet.

“What are they?” I ask. He runs a hand through his messy hair, like he’s probably been doing all evening.

“They look like reports or journal entries my father wrote. It’s his scrawl. I’ve gone over them hundreds of times and they still don’t make sense
to me,” he says gruffly. I grab a few papers and scan through them. This section looks like an in-depth account of a trek deep into a cave in the mountains. I can make out something about pearls and ultimate power. The rest is mostly gibberish, like he was drunk when he wrote it.

“What do you think it means?” I say, placing the papers back on the floor. I take another good look at Asher. He looks terrible.

“I didn’t see him much when I was a child. He’s gone now. I don’t know how or when. But there’s one thing I remember about him. He always used to go on about power, how one day it would be mine, and then I’d know what life is. But I can’t link it together. He was completely mad, that much I do remember,” he says. His eyelids droop slightly and his head bobs momentarily before he forces himself awake.

“Did you sleep at all?” I ask. Wait, do Harpies even sleep?

“It’s been a few weeks. I don’t need to sleep much. My cells do most of the regeneration when I’m awake,” he replies, stifling a yawn.

“I really don’t know what to make of this. None of it makes sense,” I admit.

He sighs, disgruntled. “I was hoping there’d be a lead in here somewhere, but I’m still grasping at straws.”

I pat his arm gently before bringing my hand back quickly, keeping my vow of not letting myself get too close to him, but he does nothing, just looks at the ground, eyes red and tired looking.

“You need to sleep,” I say seriously, standing up and brushing off my pants.

“Wait,” he says as I’m about to leave. He stands behind me and reaches his hand out to touch mine, turning me around to face him.

I can feel my heart beating rapidly from the feel of his skin, smoother than anything I’ve ever felt. His eyes are dark and haunted as they search my own.

“Please stay,” he whispers, “I need…some company tonight, just to keep the demons at bay.”

I nod silently, following him back to the couch, if only just to sit with him for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, “I don’t know what I want right now, just for you to stay a little longer.” We sit close, and I bore him with stories of the tunnels and of David and tell him about how I walked in on Sandy and Grier. Before long his eyelids droop and he drifts off to sleep, his head dropping onto my shoulder. I push over so he can lie comfortably, and from my end of the couch, I notice there’s blood on his shirt, weeping through the back from his scar that never heals.

I’m not sure how long I stay up there before I fall asleep; his head perched in my lap.

I drift in and out of sleep. My dreams are vivid, so vivid I lose my ability to discern between fantasy and reality. I’m in my childhood house, and everything is as it used to be, with photos of me and David on the walls, shrouded by the atrocious wallpaper that my mother refused to replace. The Holo-sun is shining through the windows, casting its light on the dinner china we scrounged from a pawn shop, reflecting the light stripes of our old couch. Even the smell of mom’s cooking wafts through the air.

“There you are!” a small voice sounds, and in front of me is the little girl in pigtails. She wears a purple corduroy overall set and giggles playfully, as if we’re playing a game of tag.

“Who are you?” I ask. She rolls her eyes at me, her smile displaying her uneven baby teeth and the gap of one lost tooth in the front.

“You’re almost there, silly. Don’t give up now,” she replies.

“Almost where?”

“You know where. Don’t be afraid, it’ll all make sense soon,” she says. I close my eyes firmly, but when I open them she’s still there, rocking slightly on her ankles as she eyes me sideways. “You’re going to be alright. Just keep going, okay?” she asks. I nod, not knowing what else to do, and she scampers off to the kitchen and out of my sight.