Flight (19 page)

“I never said that,” I reply quickly, “I just want to be sure about it. I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life,” he says, looking me straight in the eye. I can’t help it; I need to be close to him, to feel his warmth. I sit beside him and he leans right in to kiss me, the feeling of his lips on mine rushing through my entire body as I grasp his damp shirt, his hands wrapped firmly around my waist.

As he begins to pull me on top of him I struggle to push myself away.

“My mom’s downstairs,” I gasp, but he continues, his lips making their way down my neck and collar-bone, over my chest and down my stomach until he’s kissing my hip bone. I gasp loudly as pleasure surges through me. “Seriously, these walls are paper-thin,” I protest while I still have the willpower. He nods and kisses me again firmly on the lips.

“Come outside with me,” he says.

My mind does a 180. Ichton might have fresh air zones, but Central was one of the hardest hit areas, there’s nothing but waste above the ground here.

“I’ll die if I go out there, Asher. The radiation—” I begin.

“Piper, there’s no radiation as high as we’re going to be,” he says, flashing me that devilish grin.

How do I know I’m going to regret this? I take his hand as he leads me toward my open window and we make our way to the outside world.

As soon as we’re in the air my heart is pounding a hundred miles an hour, certain I’m going to fall to my death. I don’t think I could ever get used to this, feeling so small as we soar over stretches of vast forest and desert.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers in my ear, gripping me closely. Reluctantly I shut them, feeling the wind whipping through my air even more acutely. When I open my eyes I see that we’re high up in the sky, resting at the top of a tall, wind-ravaged skyscraper. The wind is blowing through my hair, sending it in waves behind me as I survey the scene. Asher is beside me, holding onto me tightly, his wings wrapped around me to block most of the chill, and the view in front of me causes me to gasp in awe. We’re above a massive city, lights shining from every building in different hues of yellow, orange, red and blue. It’s like a picture from the old postcards I’ve seen in museums.

“Where are we?” I ask breathlessly. He holds his arm out over the city lights proudly.

“This is my Empire,” he says, his voice somewhere in between pride and bewilderment.

“The Harpy city?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s like a replica of the old human cities before the war, the streets empty but for a few lonely strangers even though the lights are shining as brightly as ever.

“Ehvelar,” he whispers, holding me tighter as a gust of wind whips past us. I can feel my lips chapping in the piercing cold, thankful for his warmth around me.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He pushes his lips to my hair. “I wanted you to see what it’s like outside of your world, what’s outside of the tunnels and the underground. I wanted you away from Elder Corp, even just for a night, to see what else is around you,” he says, his breath tickling my ears. I turn toward him, studying the fierce blue of his eyes, the easy sway of his shaggy hair, the gentle curve of his lips. He shifts his eyes back toward the city, and I allow myself to fall into a soft silence, just the electric hum of street lights filling my ears. It’s hard because the part of me with morals is screaming
what are you doing out here? David would kill you if he were around to see this
. But another, stronger part of me is insisting that I’m doing the right thing. Do I follow my head or my heart?

“What are you thinking?” Asher whispers.

“What am I not thinking?” I reply, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m thinking about David. How it’s not fair what happened. He was always the better Hunter, the better child, the better person. It’s not fair that I’m here and he isn’t. Sometimes I wish it were the other way around,” I mutter.

“Don’t do that,” he says sharply.

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself. It’s not your fault David died, and don’t even try to tell me you shouldn’t be here, I need you here,” he says.

I take another deep breath, willing my heart to settle in my chest.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard sometimes,” I say. I can see that he’s bothered so I decide to change the subject. “Tell me about your family, what’s it like to grow up as a Harpy Prince?”

He grimaces slightly. “That’s hard to describe. I guess it was luxurious at times, gruesome at others, and at times horrifying. In the palace, there were these hunting parties that would go out for the week and round up…game,” he says.

“Game, as in deer?” I ask quietly, though I know it’s not what he means.

“No, as in human. There would sometimes be twenty, maybe more and they’d be penned up together until we were ready to feast, then they’d be slaughtered and eaten fresh in the banquet room.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick, imagining all those people just waiting for their deaths.

“See, we don’t need to eat every day like humans do. In the palace, we feasted maybe once a month, and even that was excessive. My parents liked to live lavishly; my mother especially enjoys a more macabre feasting experience,” he says.

“Is she beautiful?” I ask. I picture what she would look like; long and lean, with the same thick black hair as Asher, the same stark blue eyes.

“She’s deadly,” Asher snarls, causing me to recoil from him. “I’m sorry,” he adds, “I’m a little frustrated with my family right now.”

“What about your father, what was he like?” I probe.

His eyes cloud over at the mention of his father, his thoughts seemingly veering off into some distant place where I’m not allowed. Even after reviewing all of those journals, Asher’s family, and his father especially, is still a mystery for me.

“He was messed up, to say the least. He’s the one who gave me the scar on my back,” he says quietly after an unbearable pause. I bite my lip, unsure of what to say.

“I used to idolize him when I was little, you know. He was always untouchable, off in his own world hunting and being the big Emperor. I don’t know, after a while I started to realize that he was just a man with his own problems, and no matter how much I needed it, he couldn’t help me. With him it was always as if he needed something more from me, and if I couldn’t provide it there would be repercussions,” he says carefully.

I sigh deeply, taking this information in. “Did you ever try to talk to him about it?” I suggest.

He turns to me and lets out a peal of laughter. “I don’t think you know Harpies that well, yet,” he snorts, but when he sees the hurt look on my face, pulls back his mirth.

“I know you,” I whisper.

“If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not like a regular Harpy.”

“What, you actually have feelings?” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh along with me.

“Actually, that’s exactly it. It was something I could never come to terms with, why I saw things so differently from everyone I knew. My father picked up on it, called me soft, told me I was a waste of skin, a waste of wings. You see, I’m not good enough to be a Harpy, but I’m not good enough to be human either, so where does that leave me?” he ponders, a sharp laugh exiting his lips.

“It makes you Asher, just you, no expectations. You can be whatever you want to be,” I say earnestly.

“You’re too good for me, Piper,” he whispers, “but I don’t know what I want. There’s still a lot of stuff I have to come to terms with, stuff I can’t really talk about just yet.”

He disappears again, lost in the pits of something far too deep for me to even try to understand.

We’re nearly at the train station when I finally ask my mom about David. I’ve been avoiding it my entire trip home, the thought of it haunting the air of the house around me.

“Mom, I need to ask you something about…him,” I say as we park at the station. She gives me an earnest look, but I can see the dread clouding her eyes. She’s not ready for this. I take a deep breath, ready to spew the speech I’ve been preparing for days.

“What is it, baby?” she asks, placing her hand on my arm in encouragement.

“Did he ever tell you anything about doing like…tests? For Elder Corp?”There. I’ve said it, now to wait for the inevitable crash.

Mom’s silent for a minute, deep in her thoughts, before she says, “Who told you that?”

“I read it in a document that I found,” I lie. God, I hate lying to my mom, but there’s no way I’m getting her even more anxious by telling her about the Corp. I’m expecting her to cry, but she just stares out the windshield. It’s starting to snow, softly, coating the outside world as cold as my heart is feeling. I don’t know why the Corp insists on snow in winter—maybe to make us feel more human.

“That
is
what killed him, those tests. I never told you. I don’t really know why. I feel responsible because I signed the damn papers for him to go through with it. The Corp promised me that nothing would go wrong, but how was I supposed to know that it would? Goddamn it!” she yells, slamming the steering wheel with her fist. I really don’t know what to say. My entire life I was raised to believe that my mother knew best, that as long as it was in her hands it would be taken care of, but I’m starting to realize that life is never that simple, that when we grow up we don’t become the all-knowing adult. We’re just as vulnerable as we were as toddlers, trying to make sense of the big world.

“It’s not your fault, Mom,” I whisper, willing myself to stay strong for her. She turns toward me, forcing a tight smile through her tears.

“You don’t always have to be strong, Piper. It’s alright to feel what you’re feeling,” she says.

“I know,” I answer, but I’m still pushing it down, the hurt, and now a rising anger that I know the truth. “I’m not going to let them get away with it,” I say, teeth clenched.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? But we all have to make peace with it at some point. As much as I’d love to see the Corp suffer for what they did to my baby, there’s no way you’ll be able to take them down,” she says.

But I’m not listening. I’m already planning on my next course of action. Because my brother died from something they put inside of him, and I will never be able to make peace with that.

I return to Ichton and my life is once again taken over by routine. I go to meetings where Tor and I systematically don’t interact even though we’re in the same room, I help the members of Valhalla sort out their found information, and at night I wait for a tiny sparrow signalling time with Asher.

A week in I schedule a meeting with Myra. I skip lunch to go to the office. The train ride to Ichton was filled with questions, and it’s finally time I get my answers. A young man is in Myra’s office when I open the door, the two of them whispering fervently over her desk.

“Uh, sorry,” I say. Neither of them moves, though both glances are fixed on me and Myra quickly plasters on a smile and for a split-second I second-guess my decision to come here. Can I trust her? Can I really trust anybody?

“Jake and I were just finishing up. What can I do for you, Miss Madden?” she asks cheerfully.

The man takes this as his cue to leave. He smiles at me on his way out but I ignore him, waiting until the door’s closed behind him to speak.

“I want to work for you,” I say immediately. Myra’s eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise.

“I was hoping you would. You’d be an excellent addition to our team,” she says carefully, then gestures for me to sit down. She pauses. “But how can I know to trust you?” she asks pensively.

“How can I know to trust you?” I counter.

“Has everything I’ve told you not been true? I’ve never lied to you, Piper, which is more than I can say for your beloved Corporation. You’ve only begun to scratch the surface,” she says, almost vehemently.

“What about the Royals? Would you ever have told me about Asher and Darcy if I hadn’t found out first?” I say, exasperated. Myra lets out a small sigh, looking like she’s contemplating what to tell me.

“I couldn’t tell you about them, Piper, because you could have run off to Rupert and told him, and we would have had a very sticky mess on our hands. You do know there are those of us who don’t wish to fight with the Harpies,” she says.

I press my fingers to my temples, massaging hard as I try to process information. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that it’s possible for co-habitation, and there are those who are willing to pursue that opposed to war,” she says steadily.

“And you’re one of those people?” I ask. I don’t need an answer; I know she’ll say yes. This was why her husband was murdered, because he wanted a more accepting society. And yet, it doesn’t seem all that horrifying to me; a world with peace between Harpy, Hunter and human. I have a stake in this world. I wouldn’t have to hide my feelings in shame.

“How big is the movement already?”

Myra smiles at me knowingly, knowing she’s got me right where she wants me. “A few hundred Hunters and quite a large base of Harpies. Jake, the man who was just here, is one of the organizers of a rebel base in the forest. If you come aboard, you need to realize that there’s no going back. It’s going to be a dangerous fight, with a large possibility of death. But I believe that if we win, it’ll be the beginning of a new era. We can say goodbye to the tyranny of the Corporation and start anew.”

Her eyes light up as she speaks, and as she briefs me on how far the rebel movement has already spread, I know somehow that this is the right choice, and the only way I’ll ever be able to avenge David. It’s also the only way that Asher and I can ever be together, but I keep that thought burrowed in my mind. I make a decision once and for all, my final decision, and nod my head in the affirmative.

“I just have one stipulation,” I say before I hand my life over to the cause.

“Name it,” Myra replies.

“I want a raise.”

She chuckles lightly and waves me away.

“Done.”

I eat lunch alone in a noodle house in the streets, the milling crowds of residents rushing by me in a blur of motion. Shelley’s still in Central finishing her recon duties and Sandy’s got some big thing planned with Grier, but I don’t mind. I need some time to ruminate. One thing does bother me though; Asher hasn’t contacted me. Usually I’d have heard from him by now, but when we last met he looked deflated, and I can’t help but think that something must have happened to him in Ehvelar. I clear up my table when I’m finished picking at the last few bits of baby corn on my plate and make my way toward our place.

When I hit the top of the building’s stairs I hear voices inside. Stopping quickly, I try to limit my breathing, listening in through the door. Immediately I identify Darcy’s voice, shrill and angry.

“Asher, the point is that you missed the largest Royal function of the year. What do you think our people are thinking right now? If the future Emperor can just flake out on the Yule ceremony, what other duties will he ignore? Where the hell were you, anyway?”

“What I do on my own time is none of your business,” Asher quips angrily. I can imagine his eyes glaring sharply at his sister.

“Oh, do not start acting all self-important with me. I am your SISTER, and also a member of the Royal family. You owe it to me to start talking to me. What’s been going on with you? You’re never home, and you spend half of your time up here reading and staring at the goddamned stars! Everyone’s worried about you, Ash,” Darcy replies. There’s a loud bang, like Asher has punched his fist through the wall.

“I’m never home because I can’t be around our insane brother, and I come up here to get away from you and your prying. I don’t want to talk, so you might as well leave now to save yourself some disappointment.” Oh, shit. And here I am with my ear to the only exit.

“You haven’t hunted, brother. I can smell it on you. You’re going to drive yourself insane. What did our father always warn you—”

“Shut up,” Ash says, lowering his voice, “there’s someone outside the door.”

My heart starts racing as my mind struggles to make an excuse for why I’m here. The sound of footsteps toward the door rings ominously in my ears. If I try to run down the stairs they’ll still see me, and it’ll look like I really was eavesdropping. I can’t say I’m here to see Ash, I’m not even supposed to be in contact with him let alone meeting him up here. Instead I elect to play the situation and knock on the door firmly.

“Get out of here, I’ll handle it,” Asher whispers. I hear the tearing rip of wings and wait for the creak of the window opening.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Darcy hisses, and then it’s silent.

Asher comes to the door.

“Do you think she’ll be suspicious?” I ask. He takes a last look at the empty window, shrugs and shuts the door gently.

“Probably not, but I don’t think she would suspect anything beyond an after dinner booty-call.”

I shrivel up my nose in distaste as Ash grins widely. “What? That isn’t what this is?”

I punch him jokingly in the arm, knowing that even the hardest of my punches would barely leave a mark. He growls and lifts me up from my feet, carrying me over to the couch as I squeal in protest. We plop on the cushy sofa together and he nuzzles his face into my neck, kissing me until it tickles. I kick my feet in the air and right myself, kissing him deeply on the lips, the warmth of his hands on mine making all of my anxiety fade away.

“So, what went on with Darcy earlier?” I ask Ash after we’ve reacquainted ourselves. It’s already dark outside, the winter chill biting, even indoors.

“She’s upset with me. We have this winter feast thing back in Ehvelar, and I’m supposed to take the first taste, being that I’m the Crown Prince. When I didn’t show, I guess she thought I was looking down on my duties or something. I think both she and Gabriel are jealous that I was born first. Honestly, if I could give up the crown, I would, but in my world the Crown Prince inherits unless he dies. You see the conundrum,” he replies.

“You’d really want to give it up?”

He nods slowly. “There’s a lot more to being the Emperor of the Harpies than just royal duties. There’s…this thing,” he says, then stops, looking away from me. Anger flashes behind his eyes, and confusion.

“What is it?” I coax, rubbing his back gently. He winces, and I realize his scar’s bleeding again, the faint outline of the serpentine figure weeping through his shirt. “Does it have to do with how you got this?” I ask.

He nods again and takes my hand firmly. “It all has to do with power. That’s what Harpies live for, is power. The Emperor of Ehvelar must have the ultimate power. But there are a lot of…side effects,” he says.

I want to punch him right now for being so cryptic. “You can trust me,” I say gently, “just start from the beginning.”

He sighs deeply before continuing. “I got this scar from my father. He had an identical one and so has every inherent from the beginning of the monarchy. It’s a symbol of the ultimate power. A long time ago one of my ancestors discovered these tokens called nagaraja, or snake pearls. Basically they drain the entire life force of another being, and you can use them to infuse that power into another being. I’ve been getting power like this put into me since I was a kid. My father left on a hunt, and every time he came home he had another round of lives to weld onto me. That’s why the scar on my back doesn’t heal, even though every other wound will seal up in seconds,” he finishes.

Speechless, I pull up the back of his shirt, placing the scar in my direct view. Up close it’s incredibly intricate, the gentle coils of the serpent etched into his back still fresh, like it was just carved. I trace my fingers around it, feeling its throbbing heat from the base of his tailbone up to the top of his left shoulder, where two punctures make glaring eyes.

“What kind of power?” I ask slowly.

“Strength and speed beyond anything you’ve ever seen. I’m a weapon created by my father. I’m just a tool to him, don’t you see? He never once cared for me other than for his own means. God, I didn’t even know about it all until this weekend. Gabriel cornered me as soon as he saw me and told me. How he knew about it is something I’ll never know. He’s getting more and more dangerous,” he says.

I ignore the part about Gabriel. My days are filled with talk of Harpy rebels, I revert instead to the scar. “What do you mean? You never really knew why you had the scar?”

He shakes his head furiously. “I always suspected it was from him. I can’t really remember much, it’s like a dream. I know he’d bring me into the study and there would be a lot of pain, and, how do I say this? It’s like I can feel the emotions of the souls he put into me. When the infusion happens, it’s like I become part of these people, or they become a part of me. Who am I?” he chokes, beginning to sob. I hurriedly take his head in my arms, cradling him gently.

“Shh,” I whisper, stroking his hair. He wraps his arms around me, gripping me tightly.

“I’m so sorry. Sometimes it’s too much for me to…feel,” he whispers.

Of course it is. Harpies don’t have the emotional regulation that humans do. I’m trying to imagine what it’s like to be barraged by feelings you’ve never known your entire life. Even the thought is almost agonizingly painful.

“Were any of the souls infused into you human?” I ask suddenly. I mean, it makes sense, really. If there were only Harpy souls, he wouldn’t feel all of those human feelings.