Flight of the Golden Harpy (42 page)

“His collar,” Bill choked as his eyes bulged with the throttling. The handler grabbed a remote near the cage door and pressed keys.

The collar’s electrical charge, similar to Gus’s rod, hit Shail’s neck, and he let go of the chain and doubled over in the straw, pulling and clawing at the painful leather.

Seeing the subdued harpy, the handler released the shock key and freed Bill from the chain. “Are you okay, Mr. Simpson?”

Bill scrambled away from the cage, gasping. A safe distance from the cage, he placed his hands on his bent knees and tried to catch his breath. He finally stood and fingered the slice on his throat.

Shail shook his head and yanked on the hard and fast collar. The pain eased, and he rose. Looking intently at Bill, he lividly hissed and paced the cage, whipping the rattling wrist chains against the bars.

“That’s one nasty harpy,” said the handler.

“Give me the remote,” Bill said and jerked it from the handler’s hand. He stomped to the display cage and showed the harpy the remote. “You want some more shocks?” he growled.

Rather than scaring Shail, Bill’s threat had the opposite effect. He flew toward Bill and slammed into the bars. The whole cage shook from the full-force attack. Bill had been out of reach but he still jumped back with fright. Shail flung his hair and arched his wings like a hawk ready to pounce on prey. He sniffled, beckoning the man to come close again.

Bill lowered the remote and massaged his mustache. “Gus finally did something right, even though it killed him. He turned the harpy into man-killer and one nice prize.” He glanced at the handler. “Get some men out here. I want his wrist chains looped over the top bars, and secure his ankles to the lower bars. He’ll injure himself if he keeps crashing into the bars. When the spectators arrive this morning, they’ll see his full body and wings. His days of curled up in straw and being babied are over.”

From outside the cage, the range employees tightened Shail’s chains, pulling him down and disabling him on the bedding. “Get his damn sash off,” Bill ordered. “The hunters can see all this stud’s trophies.”

Shail twisted in the stretch hold while one man removed his sash and the others strung his chains over the top bars. Finishing, they left the cage and released him. Pulling his wrist chains from outside the cage, they hoisted him up like a puppet on strings, Shail was constrained to the cage center and forced to stand.

An employee came into the range and approached Bill with the media machine. “Look at today’s headlines, Mr. Simpson. The harpy article is as big as the swarm story.”

“‘Harpy Kills Hunting Range Owner and Two Others,’” Bill read out loud. “‘Gus Simpson, part owner of Simpson’s hunting range, was killed with two other employees when they entered a golden harpy’s cage and attempted to rescue its woman handler who was beaten and being sexually molested by the animal.’” Bill stopped reading and laughed. “This is great. The ladies won’t be crying for him today.”

The guards rolled Shail’s cage to the front room and opened the door to the awaiting throngs of people who came to see the murdering harpy.

*   *   *

Kari and Ted had returned to the hotel, and she spent the afternoon telling him about her adventures with the golden harpy and the discovery of the ancient ship. She left out the fact that she was a harpy who was married to Shail, and the harpies controlled the swarms. Ted was supportive and concerned for her captured golden pet.

John and Charlie came back from the hunting range, and John assured Kari that Shail would be fine once he had his freedom. There was nothing else to do, but worry and wait.

Sunday morning Kari woke to a knock on her hotel door. She opened the door, and her father stood in the threshold. “Bad news,” he said and handed her the media player.

Kari sat on her bed and read the headlines about Shail and his crazed attack on the men. “This is a lie. He might have killed the men, but he’d never rape a woman.”

John sat down next to her. “Regardless of the truth, the article is very negative about harpies. It confirms the old rumors that harpies are dangerous. It’ll take time to change public opinion.”

Kari frowned. “More time? For a hundred and fifty years the humans have killed harpies over these rumors, and the truth is, humans are the murderers and rapists.” She stood up and walked around the room. “It no longer matters what people think. Their time is up.” She smiled sarcastically. “It’s actually funny. They want to kill Shail, but, ironically, he’s the only one that can save them.”

“What are you talking about, Kari?”

“The end is almost here, so I guess it doesn’t matter if you know. The harpies can destroy the swarms, but unless their ruler gives the order, the flocks won’t attack the beetles. My sweet, young husband … he’s the ruler, Dad. You kept hunters off your land and protected his harpies. To show his gratitude, he’s had his harpies defend your estate. That’s why there’s been no swarm strikes.”

John thumbed his chin in thought. “Shail told me he protected my land, but I didn’t know what he was talking about until now. Kari, you should’ve told me this sooner. I might be able to get the Dora government to free him and stop the destruction.”

Kari sat down on the bed. “They’d never believe you, and most of the senators are bidders at the auction and want to kill him. They’d never free him. Besides, I’m not sure Shail could be convinced to save the humans now. He killed three men, proving he’s lost his harpy compassion to protect life. And why should he save people who have slaughtered his flocks for generations?”

“Kari, you know most people on Dora have never harmed a harpy.”

“That’s true, but who is the more guilty? The cruel hunter who shoots the harpy or the indifferent public that turns its backs and allows a species to go extinct. I lived on Earth and saw what apathy and greed did to nature. Dora is at the crossroads of becoming another Earth. Look at Shail. He was wild, beautiful, noble; a symbol of nature and they destroyed him. Even if he heals and decides to save the humans, he has no guarantee the hunting would end.”

“But he does have a guarantee, Kari,” John said. “He controls the swarms, the power of life and death on this planet. Once people know this, he can make any demand he wishes.”

“Dad, we can discuss this all day, but right now Shail needs to be saved. Without him, there is no hope. Dora is doomed.”

“I certainly have underestimated Shail,” said John. “He was smart to create the swarms.”

“He didn’t create them.” Kari frowned. “The loca eagles and then the harpies have always prevented the beetles from multiplying and turning into swarms. Man destroyed this balance in nature by wiping out the loca eagles on the continent and trying to exterminate the harpies. Shail simply let the beetles take their natural course sooner. He hoped the swarms would drive the humans from the planet and save his flock, but he was also saving the jungle and all of Dora from the beetle plague that would come when the harpies were gone. Of course, Shail didn’t know the beetles would turn deadly. He was upset about the loss of life.”

“Do you know how they do it, Kari, how the harpies can take out a swarm?” John asked.

“No, but I heard it’s dangerous. Some harpies will die. Now I want to get ready and go see him.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, and we’ll go together,” John said. “If Shail hadn’t been caught, his plan would have worked. He would have saved his harpies and brought mankind to its knees. That’s astonishing, given he’s so young and a harpy that was raised in the trees.”

*   *   *

Kari ascended the stairs and Charlie, John, and Ted were waiting in the lobby. They left for the hunting range in John’s roomier rented vehicle, but when they arrived, they saw a line of people wrapped around the building.

“It’ll take time to get in,” Ted said when they climbed out of the vehicle.

“Maybe not,” John said, and they followed him to the front of the line.

John approached a security guard near the entrance. “Do I have to wait with the rest of the sightseers?” He showed his bid number to the guard.

“No, sir; you and your party can go in, no charge,” said the security guard and unfastened a rope, letting them pass.

The large room was packed with people, and Kari and her group made their way toward the center of the room and display cage. Kari finally saw Shail through the shoulders and heads of the crowd. He stood chained and nude. His lowered head rested between his half-raised arms, with his face hidden by long hair.

She bit her bottom lip, seeing her mate humiliated by the noisy, sneering mob. She looked at her father. “You want him to save
them
?” she asked.

John couldn’t answer.

Bill Simpson walked through the crowded room, accompanied by security guards, unlocked the display cage, and stepped inside. “Thank you for coming to see our killer harpy,” Bill said into a microphone. “Perhaps I can get him to perform.” The audience of mostly men cheered.

John leaned toward Charlie. “Simpson doesn’t act like someone who just lost a brother.”

*   *   *

Flipping his shaggy locks from his face, Shail arched his wings when Bill entered the cage, but he focused on Gus’s shock rod in Bill’s hand. He clenched his teeth and exhaled, emitted the sizzling growl similar to a cornered king cobra.

“You’re not afraid of this stick anymore,” Bill said and touched Shail’s rib with the rod, releasing a shock.

Shail jumped with pain, but instead of backing away, he flapped his wings and lunged against his restraints toward the man. The crowd roared, entertained by Shail’s struggle to break free and attack.

“Hit him again!” yelled a man in the crowd.

Bill nodded to his employees who stood outside the cage. They pulled the chains and hoisted Shail off the floor. He wildly tossed his body and flapped his wings in the vulnerable and frightening hold. He gasped for air because his own body weight crushed his lungs. When extending his wings, he felt slight relief from the suffocating torture. His heart raced and beads of sweat ran down his body as he learned firsthand why harpies were hung before the slaughter. Like drowning, the hanging position depleted his oxygen. Terrified, Shail quickly used up all his strength and resistance. He thrashed on the chains, but soon gave up. Tossing his head back, he panted in the foreboding trance of harpy fatalism.

Bill prodded his ribs, and Shail squirmed on the chains, ready to accept any handling and butchery. “Now, gentlemen, isn’t this stud the perfect trophy?” he asked and displayed the harpy’s sex organs, normally hidden by straight blond hair. “He’s aggressive, nicely hung, and has no feather damage. His wings are the pale yellow of a young male.” Bill gave his wing muscle a mild shock, and Shail fluttered and completely fanned out his wings through and beyond the bars. There were murmurs through the crowd.

Bill reached over and patted Shail’s sweaty body. “Yes, this little stud’s wing length is sixteen-ten, nearly full grown.” Bill mumbled to an employee outside the cage, “This golden is the same as a brown; fades fast when it can’t breathe.”

With Bill’s words, Shail snapped out of his stupor. He lifted his head, folded in his wings, and hissed in between gulps for air.

Bill glared at Shail, who purposely tried to suffocate himself. Taking the rod, he stung Shail, forcing him to elongate his wings, but it had an adverse effect.

Shail went berserk and bashed his wings against the bars with enough force to break bone.

John shoved people out of his way to get to the cage. Reaching the ropes that held the crowd back, he climbed over them. Two guards grabbed his arms and held him. “What the hell are you doing, Simpson?” he yelled to the man in the cage. “He’s smothering and breaking his wings. Cut him down!”

Bill backed to the cage door and nodded to the men, holding the harpy’s chains. “Sorry, gentlemen,” Bill said to the crowd. “The show’s over.”

The men lowered Shail to the cage floor. Gaining his footing, he sprang at Bill, but the chains held him short of reaching the man. He twisted his body, whacking his wing at Bill. The long flight feathers slapped Bill’s face, and he clambered out the cage and slammed the door.

The packed room of people clapped and howled. Bill pushed back his hair and straightened his suit before approaching John. “Happy, Mr. Turner?”

John jerked free of the guards’ hold and scowled. “No, I’m not happy,” he growled. “If you plan on more torture for the harpy, let me know. I won’t waste my time bidding on a damaged and broken-down animal.”

Bill lifted the rod. “Don’t worry, Mr. Turner. It’d take more than a few mild shocks to break that harpy.” Bill lowered his collar and exposed his cut and bruised throat. “After the harpy killed my brother last night, he nearly got me with his chains. Whoever wins him will have the hunt of a lifetime. Good day, Mr. Turner.”

Simpson left the crammed room, and the guards escorted John back behind the ropes. He stared up at Kari’s mate and saw the meek harpy had changed overnight. Shail savagely jerked on his bonds, flung his hair back and forth, and tousled his feathers. Every muscle quivered with tension and was poised to strike. His wide, edgy eyes shifted constantly at the men. He panted, each breath releasing a deadly shushing between his clenched teeth. The once-calm and stately harpy was gone, replaced with a treacherous creature bent on slaying. Even John would be reluctant to face him.

John noticed that Shail’s wild, piercing stare began to vanish, and he focused on the one thing in the room that could quiet his rage. He took several deep breaths, lowered his head, and his arched wings drooped. He swallowed and sniffled. John turned and saw that Shail sadly gazed at his little female who had traveled a stormy continent filled with deadly swarms and stood among the hunters to save him. Wiping the sweat and moisture from his eyes with his arm, Shail worriedly looked back up at Kari, and John knew they were speaking to one another with silent harpy talk. After a few minutes, Shail pawed the straw with his foot and placed his head against his bound arms, his flowing hair hiding his face.

Security guards ushered the people out, and John moved through the crowd toward Kari. They left the building together. “What did he say?” John asked her as they walked to the vehicle.