Flight (13 page)

“So, what was that whole thing about with Sandy?” I ask when we’ve tramped far enough away from the city. Grier tries to remain tough-seeming, but her face flushes a red to match the sky.

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“The way he looked at you. Is there something going on that you haven’t told me about?” I tease.

“Honestly, Madden. Sandy Atwood? Don’t sell me so short,” she mutters, but I can tell by the pitch of her voice, the change in her stance, that she’s lying.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about. He’s a great guy,” I say. We trudge along in silence, and I chuckle inwardly, wondering what really is going on.

“What about you and Tor, then? You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on there,” she says finally.

I spit in response. “There isn’t. Not anymore, at least. He’s different, changed somehow from how he used to be,” I say, not really minding that we’ve changed the subject.

“Which was?” she goads. A deep sigh escapes me as I push dead tree branches out of my way.

“Honest, charming, caring. Now he’s always fooling around on his phone or making up all of these excuses for why we can’t do our jobs properly. It’s like he’s been brainwashed,” I reply.

“Do you think he’s having a fling?” she asks.

I shake my head, no. “That’s what Shelley said too, but I don’t think so. I think there’s something else going on around here, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I was happy away from the Corp, not that I’m devastated now or anything, but the rules here are so different than in Central. It’s like everyone has their own little secret agenda,” I say.

“Things have changed around here. Myra used to train us according to the principles of the Temple, about life and meditation and control, but since this whole Harpy threat thing has happened, it isn’t the same. Tor got shipped here, everything became classified, then you, no offense, but you threw everyone for a loop.
Ace Hunter Piper Madden
, I mean you’re like a legend around here,” she says.

This time I laugh openly.

“There can never be enough inter-office gossip, I guess,” I say. But even though I try to play it off, the subject of my reputation unnerves me. Ace Hunter. It’s just another name for mass murderer. If I were part of the Temple my body would be covered with glory tattoos.

The sun goes down and we hike the rest of the way in an easy silence, both of us with too much on our minds. The stars guide our way, and even though I should be planning this mission and coming up with exit strategies, all that sticks in my mind are images of all the bodies I’ve killed piled up around me.

Just past the small Temple town, on the borderline between Corp and Harpy territory there lies a densely wooded forest cut up by large rock structures. There are caves and peaks and clear skies above, the perfect hideout for a Harpy band. We scout the location from a distance, noticing a single Harpy sentry at the top of one of the peaks. We’ll have to be practically invisible to get any closer. Even with our dark clothing, Harpy eyesight is far too advanced to bypass with simple machinery. We need a decoy.

I’m brainstorming ideas to distract the sentry without splitting up, when a loud call sounds, and the Harpy dips into the rocks through a slim crack. We wait a moment to ensure it isn’t just a position change.

“This is our chance, let’s go,” I say. Grier nods and we strife through the wooded area with practiced silence. All of the work I’ve been doing on the Temple principles pays off as we flow through the area like water. We reach the rock structure, searching for small crevices or side paths until we find a burrow of some sort, just large enough for us to crawl through. I hitch my crossbow onto my back and we slowly make our way through until we see a faint glint of light. Sure enough, at a corner of the burrow there’s a crack in the rock, providing us view of a larger cave lit up with torches and filled with Harpies.

Silence is absolutely necessary as we peek through the crack. If we’re discovered we have only one exit, and it’s not the easiest route out if we need to move fast. Grier slows her breathing until it’s barely audible, and I try the same, though as the scene beneath us unfolds, the clamour grows louder and louder. Gabriel is standing on top of some sort of pedestal while his cronies cheer him on. His wings are outstretched, and his eyes glow red with his madness.

“Brothers and Sisters, we have a special visitor tonight!” he exclaims with a cackle. The Harpies laugh and crow, some with wings folded neatly behind them, others fading into their human-looking form. The crowd cheers as a dark figure slowly emerges from the cave entrance, moving its way up onto the stage-like pedestal. My breath catches in my chest as the light illuminates the Harpy’s features. Majestic ebony wings span from his shoulders, his skin pale but luminescent and his dark hair hanging over his face, sullen and angry. It’s Asher.

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

Grier nudges me hard with her elbow, and I bite my lip to keep myself quiet. My heart is beating as my head swirls. Asher is a Harpy. Asher is a Harpy.

It lingers in my mind like a broken record, playing again and again. He stands tall with his wings outstretched, but holds none of the dark bravado of Gabriel. He looks like he doesn’t want to be here.

“Yes, my friends. Finally here, the lost
Prince
of us all. My brother has deemed us high enough to grace us with his presence,” Gabriel shouts. The Harpies boo and cackle until Asher holds up a hand to make them stop. He breathes deeply, silent as he surveys the room. Finally the crowd becomes restless and his brother nudges him to speak.

“I am not your prince,” he says.

The room is suddenly silent, and I gasp too loudly. Grier doesn’t notice, nor does anyone else; everyone’s eyes are focused on Asher.

Gabriel is glaring at his brother, his wings quivering in anger. “What are you talking about?” he whispers angrily.

Asher just shakes his head, letting his wings shrink into his back, cringing with the pain of it, and turning into the lanky Asher I’ve come to know.

“You have all betrayed your Empire. You follow a false God after impossible ideas. Your battle is not with the humans or the Hunters. Your battle is with yourselves, and yet you follow a madman in the pursuit of more destruction. I am not your prince. As long as you continue in this charade, you are no longer Harpies of Ehvelar!” he exclaims. The room remains silent, with only the occasional murmur travelling throughout the room.

Gabriel’s eyebrows furrow and he stands in front of Asher. “Do you not hear this? You’re not the ones betraying your Empire, he is! As Harpies, we must stand together and become what is destined of us! We are the superior race of this world. We can withstand the radiation that kills the weak humans and Hunters. We will not allow the Corporation to push us into oblivion! We will stand up and take the world that belongs to us!” he shouts. This time the crowd cheers; at first in patches, and then in an enormous roar. Asher slinks to the background, watching his people with what appears as horror. I’ve seen enough. I gesture to Grier to go back.

We crawl through the tunnel, the wail of the Harpies following us through to the small exit. We stand and breathe deeply once we’ve exited the tunnel, but we are not alone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” A familiar voice sounds. I whip around to see Darcy, my long-time runner, with tawny wings outstretched behind her, her green eyes glowing in the dark. I grip the handle on one of my knives while Grier keeps a ready hand on her pistol.

“Leaving. If you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth shut and let us go,” I whisper violently.

Darcy just grins, flexing her hands, her slender fingers growing into long, sharp talons. “I think not. It’s because of you that this is happening. The Ten was the only thing keeping Asher strong, and now that he no longer has it, he’s turned into a meagre weakling. Our Empire needs its rightful heir to survive, and you’ve stripped that away.”

She lunges at me, but I’m ready, I grab onto her arm and swing her past me, throwing my clenched fist into her face until I feel the bones of her nose crumble and crush. She growls and swings her talons around, clipping my side and ripping gashes through my suit and skin. I cringe and double over, watching with dismay as her nose quickly repairs itself and she goes for Grier.

“Don’t kill her,” I say as my partner dekes to the side, just missing Darcy’s blow, grabs her by the hair and knees her hard in the gut. Darcy’s eyes widen and she coughs, blood splattering onto the ground. Quickly I reach for the tranquilizer syringe I’ve got strung on my belt and jab Darcy in the neck before she can react. Her body goes limp and I eye Grier.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she says with a nod. We don’t worry about how much noise we make, and run until we’re safe on Corporation turf once more.

I barge into Myra’s office once I’m back in the Corp building. I told Grier to get some rest, that we’ll sort it out in the morning, but I need more information; now. As I suspected, the old woman is sitting at her desk looking over some paperwork. She whips her head up when the door swings open, startled as I storm over to her desk.

“Did something happen?” she asks, eyes wide. I look down at my hands and realize they’re speckled with blood and scrapes. I shake them off and pace back and forth in front of her, trying to find words to explain what’s happening to me.

“We saw the Prince,” I say finally. Myra’s eyebrows shoot up, but she says nothing, waiting for me to continue. “The pack is looking to wage war against us, but the Prince is hesitant. There’s some sort of civil movement going on and I think Gabriel’s going to win them over,” I say. Myra nods and jots down a few notes, calm as can be.

“I thought something like this would happen,” she murmurs. I scratch my head violently, ready to pull out my hair.

“How can you be so damned calm about all of this?” I sputter.

The woman barely looks up. “Oh, no, it’s quite the opposite, but I’ve established a level of control over the emotions that confront me,” she replies. An exasperated sigh leaps out of me and I force myself to sit down, breathing deeply while my leg shakes nervously. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she says, raising her gaze to meet mine. They’re filled with concern and curiosity. I hate that she looks at me like I’m some sort of puzzle for her to figure out. But that’s not the task at hand right now. Right now, I need to know about Asher.

“The Prince… I know him,” I state firmly.

“You know him?” Myra repeats.

“And his sister, I know her too. They live here, in Ichton. The Royal fricking family is living right below our feet,” I continue. But Myra doesn’t give me the shocked reaction I’m looking for, instead just nods quietly.

“Piper, before we continue anything you need to be made aware of a few things. Before I can have a conversation with you, I need to make sure that you’re trustworthy. Do you understand?” she says.

I narrow my eyes. “No, I don’t think I do. Enlighten me,” I reply.

She gives me that infuriating, knowing smile. “I’ve known for some time now that there’s a mole within our branch of the Corporation. A mole leaking confidential information to Central. Before we continue, I need to know whether or not you are the one giving information to Rupert,” she says.

I bite my lip. I should come clean, let her know about the President’s suspicions, but it doesn’t quite add up. I’ve had no information to give him, so how could I possibly leak anything?

“I speak with Rupert from time to time, but up until now I’ve had no information to pass on, though he does ask. Why is it important that he not know? I mean, he’s the President, he’s your
brother
,” I say.

Myra chuckles with contempt, her eyes gleaming with more life than I’ve ever seen in her. “My brother. There’s a lot that you don’t know about our dear President, Piper, but I’ll save that information for another time. If what you say is true and you haven’t reported anything to Rupert, then I will believe you, but I need to be able to trust you from this point forth. Can you give me that guarantee?” she asks.

Momentarily I feel like saying no, like calling Rupert and telling him about the Harpies and getting the entire thing taken care of in the only way I’ve ever known. But then I think about Asher. I should detest him, be disgusted with him, but I can’t. I’ve never known a Harpy before, and now that I do, the thought of killing him makes me squirm inside.

“You have my confidence,” I respond. I keep my voice low and professional. I’ll buy into this contract, even if it is only the means to an end, to find out more about what exactly is happening here.

“You’ve made the right choice. Now I’ll tell you what I know, and what only few know here. Asher and Darcy—yes, I know them—live in Ichton under my protection. About a year ago I came into possession of Asher after he’d had a run in with another Hunter sect. He was wounded severely with a scar that will never heal, but he was
alive
. How could a Harpy survive a full-scale Hunter attack? We decided to form a treaty with Ciar, the Harpy Queen, so we could have time to research this anomaly and try to stop it. For all we knew the Harpies were planning an attack. Was it really so wrong of me to do this?” She says this last part almost to herself.

I’m flabbergasted. Is it possible that Asher could be immune to Hunter blood? Even if I wanted to kill him, I wouldn’t be able to.

“How?” I muster.

“Our theories right now are circling around a vaccine. We think their scientists have discovered an antibody and are giving it to important members of the Harpy circle. We want to stop this at all costs. If the Harpies have a vaccine, then they’re essentially immortal. They could control the world,” she finishes.

The heaviness of the idea hangs over me. If Harpies took over, every Hunter would likely be killed and humans would become playthings for them. They could even have human farms if they wanted. The thought is beginning to make me sick.

“What do I do now?” I ask finally. Even though the more serious aspect of war keeps running through my mind, so do my thoughts of Asher, of his lips, his hands on me. A Harpy’s hands on me, and yet I can’t hate him. Myra seems to sense some of this and purses her lips into what could be a smile or a grimace.

“From a professional point of view, I’d advise you to avoid seeing him at all. But from a woman’s point of view, I say talk to him. Don’t let the boundaries of the Corp society bind you,” she says. I look at her in shock. How did she so easily see through me?

“But it’s wrong,” I whisper furiously. Myra shakes her head wistfully and places her hand over her heart.

“If it feels right in
here
, then it’s right, and that’s all you need to know,” she replies. A tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away quickly. I wonder if she’s thinking about her late husband, and for the first time I feel for this woman in front of me; a woman who runs an operation she doesn’t even believe in for the people who killed the love of her life.