Flight (6 page)

“Maybe I just thought it might be nice if we could double-date sometime. He’s not all that bad, and he’s a wicked guitar player,” she says.

“And he’s incredibly egotistical, he’s related to Darcy, and we can’t forget that he
stole
from me,” I retort, trying to ignore the little smile creeping up on Shelley’s lips.

“What?” I ask finally.

“You’ve got a crush on him,” she whispers.

“What?” I repeat.

“I know you’re trying to play it cool because you always need to be so bad-ass, but maybe for the first time a guy’s gotten under Piper Madden’s skin. Stole from her without her noticing, makes her blush? Looks like I don’t even need to lift a finger,” she says.

I growl and shove her playfully.

“So how was your meeting with the white knight?” Shelley asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She means Tor. The blond, shining Tor who used to be my knight, once upon a time. I sigh before answering.

“He wanted to have dinner. Said he missed me and wanted to catch up.”

Shelley’s eyes widen like saucers. “Oh, he did not! What else did he say?” she asks, taking a long sip of her drink.

“He didn’t. I left. What was I supposed to do? I haven’t seen the guy in a year, and if you recall, we didn’t part on very good terms,” I reply.

“Trust me, he’s had ample time and opportunity to move on, if you know what I mean,” she says, voice lowered.

A slight pang resounds in my chest. Is that jealousy? I slip Shelley’s drink from her and take a big swig as she rolls her eyes. “Please do not tell me you’ve been thinking about him,” she says.

The truth is, up until this moment, I haven’t. I’d all but forgotten him in my quest to let the past go, but seeing him, being back with the Corp, it’s all brought back memories and nostalgia. I was happy with Tor, before, I remember this. It was easy, uncomplicated. Is it wrong of me to want to hold onto the one shred of the past that makes me feel normal?

“I don’t know, Shelley. This is hard for me. I don’t even know how I feel,” I say finally. My best friend stares at me for a moment before signaling the bartender.

“What you need is a drink and a good night with your best girl and good music to forget about it all,” she says. I sigh as a server brings us two fresh drinks. I hadn’t wanted to, but the idea of letting all of this go, even if just for a night, is so promising that I take the glass in earnest just as the band assembles on the stage.

Shelley’s boy Craig stands front and center, while Asher stands just to his side, guitar in hand. The crowd cheers as he strums a riff, and the familiar, chest-shaking volume of the speakers consumes me.

“Craig said he’d be singing to me all night,” Shelley yells into my ear as the rest of the musicians test out their instruments.

“Totally sweet!” I yell back. She laughs as she clinks glasses with me.

“Your sarcasm is fricking palpable, babe, but here’s to a good night!”

And then the band begins to play, and I find myself unable to focus on anything but the music pounding out through the speakers. It’s the perfect mix of everything, the lyrics tragically beautiful, the beat catchy and the guitar aching with passion. Just as he’d promised, Craig periodically glances at Shelley as he spills words about torrid romance in a decent tenor. However, I can’t seem to focus on any of the other band members. The call of the guitar brings me to Asher, whose eyes remain on me, never wavering even through difficult passages.

For the first time I understand what it’s like to have someone focused singly on me. There’s no Corp, no Harpy threat, no radiation concerns. Throughout the first set it feels like every song is just for me, my own private concert. The world fades away, all of the anxiety, the confusion, the pain, all lost in those bright blue eyes.

After the set the band takes a break, and at the bar, girls immediately swarm around them. I see Shelley clench her jaw and I raise my eyebrows.

“I’m not a jealous person,” she says, struggling to keep her voice serene. I laugh.

“Right, and Harpies don’t have wings. Come on, let’s go talk to your boy,” I say. I take her by the hand and lead her through the throng of people waiting for a drink. As expected, Craig’s eyes light up when he sees Shelley and he politely dismisses the girls crowding him to greet her. I set up shop against the cold brick wall, letting out a small smile as I watch the two flirt—all while the band’s groupies glare ferociously.

“So, Red, what did you think?” I whirl around to see Asher leaning beside me, placidly chewing on a toothpick.

“You’re very talented,” I reply. He tries to hide the fact that he’s smiling, but I don’t miss it. He moves his attention to my best friend with a slight head nod.

“He likes her a lot, you know,” he says. I steal a glance, taking note of the small grin on Shell’s lips as Craig whispers in her ear.

“She likes him too, obviously. But I think she really does
like
him, I haven’t seen her this giddy in a while,” I murmur in reply. He sighs deeply.

“They make it look easy, don’t they?” he half whispers.

“What?”

“You know, the whole flirting bit, finding someone, learning everything about them,” he responds. I tilt my head with a smile on my face.

“If I didn’t know you were a pompous bastard, I’d almost call you a romantic,” I say. He grins that lopsided, stupidly attractive smile.

“But you don’t really know me, do you?” he replies. I lean back against the wall and take a delicate sip from my drink.

“I guess not,” I say. He leans in toward my ear, and instead of feeling threatened or imposed on, it almost feels natural, like we’ve always been this close.

“But you want to know me, don’t you?” he whispers. I pause for a moment, studying him, his lanky swagger, his shaggy hair, the tiny admonitions that he’s not some asshole but actually carries a soul inside.

“Maybe,” I reply eventually. I’m expecting him to pull me closer or whisper more, but instead he backs away, his eyes turning dark and sullen.

“You don’t want to know me, Red. I’m not who you think I am,” he says, and then disappears into the thick crowd without another word. I’m left standing stock still, breathless from the encounter, and more confused than when I’d arrived. I look around for Shelley, but can’t find her, so I finish my drink and go home.

My legs jiggle uncontrollably in the Hunter meeting room. I’d thought to come early so I could scout everyone out as they arrived, but am dismayed to find everyone already in the large room seated comfortably with each other, drinking coffee and telling jokes. Grier is surrounded by a gaggle of female Hunters clinging to her every word, while Tor and a few other guys lean by the large windows, speaking in low tones, probably comparing battle scars or secretly checking out the girls. Nothing’s changed.

Except for the fact that I sit alone in a corner flipping through an old magazine from before the war while the rest of the team steals the occasional glance, thinking I don’t notice. I feel the light nudge of an elbow and turn to see Sandy, who pulls up a chair beside me. I don’t think I’ve ever grinned wider.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here,” I say, ignoring the almost lethal glance Grier throws my way. Sandy chuckles and takes the magazine from my hands.

“What, you’re not enjoying
50 New Tips To Make Your Man Go Crazy
?” he asks, citing the article I’d been pretending to read. I snap the mag back from him and toss it back onto the pile of old, crumpled light reading materials.

“It was more interesting than
Make Yourself Ten Pounds Thinner in Ten Minutes
,” I quip, and we laugh together. Sandy leans back in his chair, pulling a tiny laptop from his messenger bag and placing it neatly on his lap. He’s not really a Hunter, but being the head of the VR mod design team, he needs to know what we’re up against. Usually I would go to his place after these meetings to help him with the specifics, but this time I’ve got both feet in the water.

“So, you ready?” he asks. I inhale deeply before nodding.

“Money is money,” I reply. He rolls his eyes as if to say
stop pretending you don’t miss it
. Maybe he’s right.

The entire room snaps to attention as Myra Elder steps into the room, flanked by a young girl with glasses and a flashy palm-pilot, her gaze never wavering from the screen.

“At ease,” Myra says. She takes a seat at the head of the room as the rest of the team finds chairs around the long meeting table. The Director waits patiently until everyone is seated and looking up at her attentively, then she stands and holds her arm out to me.

“Let me introduce Ace Piper Madden for those of you who haven’t met her. She’ll be a part of the team from now on,” she says. I struggle to keep my eyes level and my cheeks from flushing as everyone turns their eyes to me. I send out a brief salute before turning back to Myra, who smiles knowingly at me. I resist the urge to glare. Her assistant stands and gestures for our attention.

“Alright then, I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other soon enough. As you know, this task force was brought together due to the new threat of Harpy insurgents. We have Intel that a member of the Family is recruiting Harpies in an effort to create an army. We don’t know how many are part of the group already, but we do know that that number is rising every day,” she says. A few mouths gape open at the mention of the Family. That being the
royal
family; the rulers of the Harpy Empire. She slides down a projector screen and flicks the lights from a remote in her palm pilot. An image flashes across the screen of a young Harpy with light auburn hair. His wings are a tapestry of tawny browns and his eyes are jet black, his mouth set in an angry chant as faceless Harpies mill around him.

“The Prince?” a female Hunter chirps. The assistant shakes her head.

“The younger brother, Gabriel. The Prince, as far as intelligence tells us, has been missing for a little under a year,” she states.

“So the Empire is threatened with anarchy,” Tor chimes in. Myra steps up once again.

“That’s right, Mr. Nelson. Thank you, Annie,” she says, dismissing the girl, who immediately buries herself back into her digital structure. “With the
inherent
missing, many of the Empire’s citizens are becoming uneasy with the possibility that if the Empress dies, there’ll be no rightful heir,” she says. This time one of Tor’s cronies jumps in.

“So why wouldn’t the younger brother take his place as heir?”

Myra shakes her head slightly, almost in a
tsk
. “The only way the heir can be overthrown is if he is killed. Harpies are almost medieval in their strictness to their ways. With the heir missing, Gabriel cannot take over the throne, though whether or not he is trying to start a new wave of revolution is yet to be known. Gabriel is harsher than even the most ruthless Harpies, with an un-relinquishing bloodlust. If he were to become Emperor, we’d be caught in a full scale war. For this reason, Gabriel cannot succeed if he wishes for the throne. Our job is to obtain more Intel on the group’s plans, and if possible, to terminate the rebellion before any wide-scale damage is done.”

The heaviness of the situation hangs in the air. No one wants a war with the Family. No one wants war, period, especially due to the constant, daily reminders of what the past war did. No one’s jumping in, offering themselves up for missions. It’s like grade school all over again, with the teacher waiting expectantly on a mill of students who will never raise their hands. I was never one of those students, and I won’t be now.

“Orders?” I ask. I ignore the stares of my colleagues as Myra smiles tightly with her eyes. She motions for her assistant Annie to take notes.

“Piper Madden and Grier Lan, you’re in charge of reconnaissance of the area. I want a complete report of our boundaries, weak spots—and of course, if you see any Harpies, you are
not
to take action. Report any sightings directly to myself or Annie,” she says.

My shoulders slump. Recon? And no action?

“And if a soldier determines reason for action?” I ask. This time, the room goes silent, with all eyes on me. It’s Tor who finally speaks up, though he keeps his voice soft.

“Piper, things are different here. We don’t shoot until we consult Director Elder,” he says.

My face reddens as Myra nods.

“It’s a policy that must be upheld above all things. Are we clear?” she asks. I nod, trying to hide my distaste. She moves on, assigning tasks to other members of the team; research, interviewing, archiving, but not a single scout. If we’ve got a possible rebellion happening here and I can’t kill a Harpy who’d like nothing better than to tear me to bits, well, I don’t even want to think about what could happen.

I spend the rest of the meeting in silence, taking in only half of what’s being said. Finally the meet is adjourned and Myra and her assistant leave. I look around the room, unsure of what my next move should be when Grier approaches me. She gives Sandy a dirty look, then gestures toward the door.

“Come on now,
Ace
, we’ve got some VR training before duties tonight, and I don’t want to take all day kicking your ass.”

I open my eyes standing in a vast field of ice and snow. The chill permeates my skin even through my gear, raising the tiniest of goose bumps. I exhale and my breath forms grey wisps in the air. I flex my fingers, allowing the motion to come naturally, letting my mind forget that the crisp air and gentle touch of snowflakes aren’t, strictly speaking, real.

Grier stands across from me, eyes closed as she breathes slowly, deeply. Inhale, exhale. She stands for minutes, unmoving as I take in the thick green of the forest surrounding us. Finally she opens her eyes. The grin on her mouth is confident, prepared.

“You ready?” she mouths. I nod, clenching my fists. No weapons in this fight, we’d agreed. She rushes toward me and I follow suit, keeping my focus on the speed of her run, the bend in her knees. We reach one another and she ducks immediately, sweeping her leg beneath me. At the last moment I jump in the air, flipping upside down with arms ready to grasp her, but she deftly dodges me, barely allowing me to land before throwing an onslaught of quick punches.
I block and deke, but every jab I throw her way is avoided like water parting, smooth and fluid. A grin sprouts on her face as we parry.

“You’re not going to hit me like that,” she says.

She’s right. My tactics are useless against her defence, but her hits are easy to see, easily block-able.

“I don’t see you doing any damage,” I retort, teeth clenched. I see her face tighten. “What, you angry?” I taunt. She pushes me away from her and starts combining her moves, punches and kicks with decided force but little accuracy. I laugh aloud as I block each punch, sidle from each kick. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration. She’s thinking too hard.

I block a kick with my hip and catch her foot with mine, twisting and knocking her off balance. Her eyes widen as I heave my shoulder into her. She tries to melt away using the same mechanism as before, but her mind is scattered. Quickly I lace my arms under hers and about her neck, holding her tight in a classic, but effective submission pose. For a moment she struggles and tries to kick at me, but when I tighten my grip, she goes limp.

Snow falls around us in a lazy, unhurried glide.

“Out!” Grier calls, and the grey sky and pine trees flicker away. I let go of her as soon as my vision returns. She doesn’t look at me, but starts peeling off her gear angrily, cheeks flushed.

“You’ll need to show me that defence stance. It’s effective,” I say.

She throws her head up and glares. “Why do you mock me?” she spits.

I look to Sandy, who’s running the mod, for help, but he just shrugs. Figures.

“I’m not mocking you. It’s a really good technique. You just need to be able to let it go. You don’t fight with your brain, you use instinct and feel,” I continue.

She laughs sardonically. “Please. I don’t need advice from you. Everyone here sings you praises like you’re some kind of prodigy.
Ace Hunter Piper Madden
. You don’t even have any loyalty to the Corporation that’s fed and clothed you for years. Why would I take advice from you, traitor?”

The word hangs in the air and anger flushes within me, maybe even hatred. There are a hundred things I could say right now, but I don’t. I count backwards slowly from ten until Sandy awkwardly pipes up.

“Grier, there’s a reason Piper has so many fans. She’s been training since she was just—”

“Oh, fuck off, Sandy!” she yells. She rips off the last electrode from her temple and storms out of the room. I look at Sandy, eyebrows raised.

“She hates me,” I say.

Sandy’s face is hopeless as he shrugs. “No she doesn’t,” he replies. I almost want to laugh as his voice squeaks. Always a terrible liar. Now disconnected, I lope up to the mezzanine and take a seat in one of the cushy wheel-born chairs. I want to stay cheerful, but it’s hard.

“No one really wants me here,” I say after a period of silence. Sandy
tsks
as he continues to type script into his computer.

“Where’s the tough girl I always see in you? Don’t let Grier get you down—you know she’s just jealous,” he replies. I sigh and spin myself in a slow circle.

“I’ve been here two days, Sandy, and I don’t even feel remotely part of the team. Even Tor with his sweet talk to get me here has been short with me,” I whine. Sandy stops typing and looks at me.

“So quit,” he says, nearly a whisper. I furrow my brows at him.

“I’m not a quitter,” I say. He turns back to his vid-screen.

“Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and do the work you were born to do. I know you and the Corp have issues, but you being here isn’t about Rupert or Myra or David.” I inhale sharply at his name, but Sandy continues, “You’re here because you’re a good Hunter. You’re here to save people. Don’t forget that.” I swallow hard, realizing he’s right. I’m better than this.

“You should start a business with this, you know,” I say, forcing a wry smile.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, then turns back to his computer, booting up the training program.

“I’ve gone through the coding a few times, trying to improve on it, but I’m having trouble with the Harpy. It’s hard to envision something you’ve never seen before,” he admits. I pull my chair closer to him, peering at the screen. It still looks like gibberish.

“You should come on a hunt sometime,” I suggest.

“And get killed? No, thank you. I’m perfectly content in my nice, safe lab. I do need some more specifics, though. I thought it would be useful to run the program with an aroused Harpy and one in its natural environment.”