Windswept (The Airborne Saga) (25 page)

             
After readying herself, she dashed for the wall and caught a high ledge. Her fingers threatened to cramp but her feet found a good foothold.

“Move Avery
,” she commanded herself.

It was hard to spot the entrance from her disadvantaged point but knowing it was at least fifty feet up, she headed
in the right direction. She only slowed her pace where the waterfall sprayed her with droplets. The rocks threatened to get slick, but at least the water had eroded clearer ridges into the side of the rock over years.

“Don’t give up. Don’t give up.” Her muscles burned. Her fingernails scraped and bled. Each step up was becoming more difficult.

              She went still upon getting close. Faintly visible was the figure of a harpie at the edge of the tunnel. He kept twisting, but his chin was tilted up looking for threats from the sky. Flattening herself against the wall, Avery resisted the urge to cry. Painful to sit still, she feared taking another step even more. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t defend herself like this. Harpies could fly and she couldn’t even budge too fast without plunging to certain agony or possible death.

             
She felt for the magic in her chest. The doctor’s words were still prominent on her mind. He told her to attempt to summon it in a different manner, but that was easier said than done. Avery tried not to allow panic to take her over, and she continued her internal pep talk. Mason needed her. He needed to be warned. And it was clear that the Guard didn’t have the tunnel blocked off.

             
With a deep breath, she acted quickly. She clenched her jaw and reached for the feeling. An ache in her chest rose and she clung to the sensation. Then she hurried. Scaling the wall had become easier and the magic clearly manifested in her chest. It finally drew the harpie’s attention, but it was too late for him. She grabbed his ankle and yanked. The magic shocked him and the harpie fell. In his place, she jumped up onto the ledge. The harpie didn’t plunge to his death but caught himself, wings open and pounding twenty something feet out from the tunnel.

             
Avery didn’t wait for him to reorient himself or return. She looked to find the tunnel seemingly empty and ran for it. The twists and turns felt like an endless maze that took an agonizing few minutes. But no one interpreted her wild dash.

             
The first rebel only caught her just as she spotted the exit of the tunnel. His claws swung and made contact too quickly for her to shift the blow. The white hot pain made her chest jolt and she grabbed at the Willow magic. Uncontrolled, it exploded outward and manifested in a spastic bolt of lightning. The harpie went down and with feet on fire, Avery jumped over him. She burst into the hall and her feet slid on the smooth floors of the capitol building. Out from the dark tunnels, the white light blinded her. She crashed into the wall before she stopped and only then saw flickers of her surroundings. The chaos was everywhere, but it was virtually silent compared to the screaming of the crowd outside. She staggered towards the balcony, but the sight of Patrick made her slow.

             
His hair had been trimmed since she’d seen him last, and feathers darkened substantially. But it was the dagger he held that caught the sunlight and her attention. His dark black eyes slid over her figure.

             
“You’re too late, Avery.”

             
She stood frozen. The whole place reeked of smoke and the air in the place was foggy. Through it and behind the massive figure of Patrick, she could see Mason on the balcony. His back faced them and his attention stayed outward. Rebel soldiers stood in the shadows and by the doors. People were moving too quickly. Avery’s head swiveled. She couldn’t see the Guard, but only the enemies at every corner.

             
Patrick reacted before she did. He rushed Avery. Swifter than the rest, she barely saw him in time. Hands out blindly, she summoned the magic. It exploded on both of them. The thunderous pop shook the room and Avery landed on her back. All breath gone from her lungs she couldn’t move. A ringing sounded in her ears. The world looked blurry.

             
“Avery!” She heard her name but it sounded muffled. Funny almost. The partial deafness though was nothing compared to the dizziness that seized her. She struggled to sit up but her muscles refused to obey her. She rolled onto her belly, only then being able to brace herself and look up. She could see Mason diving away from a dagger swipe of another rebel solider. The blade glinting in the sun made contact with his wing. Crimson splattered, but before the dagger had even been freed, Mason dove from the balcony, catching flight.

             
Avery only lost sight of them when a sudden motion stole her attention. Patrick stood above her, having recovered faster than she, but covered in soot and cracked armor. Avery hurried to brace herself, but her muscles decided to be no more than liquid and she hit the floor. Then Patrick struck downwards and Avery felt the sharp blow to her head. The world went white, but she felt no pain.

             
She saw flickers behind her eyelids. They slowly turned into images. And then Avery found herself standing somewhere in deep grass. The blinding sunlight beat down on her, the world was hot, and she swatted the sweat off her forehead. She looked to see the field in full view now. Mason stood there beside her. His hair long, his cheeks covered in dirt, and green eyes fierce. His Willow-tattooed arms had been freed from the sleeves and he held it up to the blue sky.

             
“It’s not working,” Mason spoke, but his voice sounded fuzzy. “The magic isn’t working,” he continued to complain.

             
Avery shook her head and told him that he was not doing it correctly.  The whole world flickered and she saw the field again. This time Mason and she had company. Patrick crossed the grass to join them. The harpie sported a massive smile and arrogance that radiated around him. His slacks and grey undershirt did nothing to hide his blade.

             
“Just checking out how the cavalry’s workin’ it up,” he said, but his voice sounded strange too.

             
Then he proposed it. Since Mikhail was coming for them, they would battle for practice. Avery fell back. The scene played out before her, and Mason and Patrick fought. Patrick was teasing Avery, the slick smile on his face used many times before. Mason huffed, his cheeks reddening. But they fought anyways. Mason landed a strike and laughed. Patrick won and laughed harder. Mason still managed to wobble home that night. She’d mopped up his bruises even though she was upset. She held his black-and-blue hands and combined the warmth of their skin. They had stayed there together. Even though they were going to die.

             
A sudden agony in Avery’s forehead made her eyes snap open. She didn’t see the field or the two male harpies. She saw rusted iron bars and dew collecting on the brick ceiling. Every aching joint awake now, she stirred from her position and sat up. Her head ached, but mind finally clear, she still barely understood what she saw. The place outside the bars looked like some hellish underground pit with the sulfur smell to match. Only dim lanterns in the corner lit the place, casting shadows on any exit.

             
Footsteps drew her attention and Avery had to double take to see Patrick. In some ways he seemed much like he always did, but dark paint covered his face and baggy tattered clothes hid his figure.

“I’m very disappointed it’d come to this.” He spoke first.

Finding her voice, though graveling, Avery crawled towards the bars and answered.

“What are you doing?” It was a dumb question in the whole scheme of things but it captured more th
an just the current situation. Patrick was once their ally. Patrick had fought alongside them and helped them. What was the difference today? That Mason had become Prince, something he’d been destined for his entire life? Patrick apparently refused to give her the revelation she sought.

“I’m sure you’ve gathered.”

“You’re trying to kill Mason. And me,” she said instead. And that was if he hadn’t already succeeded with the first part. Her stomach flipped considering Mason’s danger but she kept her mouth shut so Patrick kept talking.

“Well, technically you and then Mason. I knew you’d be trouble. I knew you’d be there to defend him with that bloody Willow magic. And I knew you would succeed where Mason did not.”
He shook his head. “You are the one keeping Mason alive. Always have been. And that’s why this is so unavoidable. I couldn’t let you live, if I was supposed to get to him. It’s nothing personal. I was actually quite fond of you, you know.”

“Liar,
” she spat at him.

Patrick’s fingers hovered in the air like he’d considered reaching out and touching her face but resisted.

“I don’t ascend to be a saint, girlie. But I saved who I could.”

“You saved Adalyn.”

“Yeah, Adalyn... The first thing she tried to do was warn you and ruin all of my plans. I chased her all around Alaska just to stop her and that was tough. I couldn’t stop her from warning Eva in Portland. I swear that woman is too feisty to keep under wraps.” His eyes drifted to the left for a moment too long.

“She warned Eva too?” Avery then remembered how busted up the female harpie had been. It explained why the harpie had been with Adalyn at Samuel’s compound.

“Mason’s whole bloodline. No point in wiping out one if the other still lives.” He made a mad gesture.

“Why do you need to do that? What do you want?” She tried to plead with him. It didn’t make sense. His motivations had no reasoning
, for the man could have killed both Eva and Mason before they confronted Mikhail. But he never did.

“Business. That’s all it is.”

“Killing the Prince? There’s nothing in the world worth doing that!” Anger flailed and with it so did the magic. Patrick took a quick step backwards.

“I’m sorry, Avery, but I will not see you again.” His voice dropped, faint and calculated.

“You’re going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly stab you now
, can I? Not without that magic making a grab for me. Exactly the reason my accomplice had to go after Mason—although I’m upset he failed. As easy and successful as it’d be if I stabbed you with my own hand, that magic would infest me. Assuming I could ever disappear into the world again, I’ve seen what it’s doing to Eva. I saw what it did to Mikhail. I know everyone tells me to wait until it kills you but I can’t risk you finding a cure and living. I need you dead now, but I have a better way to do it.”

He produ
ced something from his pocket. A nestle of wires, only the stink of gunpowder tipped her off.

“No way.” She gasped when he perched it on floor just out of her reach. Her blood started drumming in her ears. The last few words he said were drowned out.

He’d blow the whole place. She’d die in pieces.

“Goodbye.” Patrick did a gentle wave as he disappeared into the shadows. The bomb twitched to life with a beep. Her countdown had begun.

Avery thrashed against the unrelenting bars. She tried to wedge out of the tight corners. She reached for the bomb. Her fingers barely grazed the sharp edges. Avery dropped onto her backside. Samuel’s destroyed homemade absolute sense now. Patrick had attempted the same with Eva but the harpie woman had survived it.

Avery’s panic had transformed into something quiet and still. She knew she wouldn’t be breaking through the bars. Behind her was some rocky mass and the entire underground cellar she was in would probably collapse. He’d planned it well, better than last time. And Eva could use the magic better than she could. Though it’d returned to her in her time of need, it was spastic. She couldn’t channel it
, and it only blew up in her, and Patrick’s faces.