Flight

Chapter Eighteen





I stumble home, the cracks in the sidewalks blurring as I struggle to keep my emotions at bay. But there’s only so long you can quell all that pain. Eventually it has to be set free. I’ve always been the strong one, always had to be the strong one, but I can’t do it anymore. I break down as soon as I enter my apartment. Shelley’s gone for the night, so I drag my sobbing body into the bathroom and turn on the shower, letting the water pour over me, soaking through my clothes, willing it to wash everything away. I sit down in the corner of the stall and let the water pour over my eyes and fill up my mouth. Memories of the past flash through my head, some clear, others cloudy. I can even let out a slight chuckle through my shivering teeth. It’s true what they say: the truth hurts more than lies.

I’m thoroughly drenched and numb when the shower curtain flies open. I’m so cold I don’t even have time to react, I just stare as Asher finds me, his bright eyes filled with concern.

“What are you doing here? Shit, this water’s cold, and you’re all wet. Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he says. He steps into the stall and shuts off the water, easily lifting my sopping body.

“How did you find me?” I ask as he sets me down on the linoleum floor and starts looking for towels.

“Your smell,” he calls from the cupboard in the hallway, “it travelled through the pipes.”

My smell? I lay out on the floor, willing the numbness to remain as my body warms.

“What do I smell like?” I murmur. Asher returns with some towels and wraps them around me. He sits me up and shakes me gently.

“Stay awake,” he says, “your body temperature’s too low.”

I open my eyes wide to prove that I’m not going to pass out. His body heat rubs against me and licks my skin like kittens. His hair is damp and hangs over his eyes as he adjusts me.

“You never answered. What do I smell like?” I repeat.

He raises his gaze to me and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You smell like the ocean,” he replies, “now you answer me. What are you doing here in the middle of the night in a freezing shower?” I sigh, unwilling to give in that I was wallowing.

“I needed to know something. Then I found out and I couldn’t take it. I wanted to wash it all away,” I say incoherently with teeth chattering.

Asher raises his eyebrows and lets out a chuckle. “You were snooping, then?” he says.

“I needed to know.”

Asher wraps himself tightly around me and I sigh in relief at his warmth. He inhales sharply, like he’s about to speak, then stops.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t like seeing you with him,” he says, his voice slow and coarse. He must have been watching me, and saw me having lunch with Tor.

“I can’t ignore him,” I whisper.

Asher’s eyes widen and his body tenses. “Because you love him? Because he isn’t a monster?” he quips.

“No. I don’t love him, and you’re not a monster, Asher. He’s been reporting all of my actions to Central. If he suspects anything, well, I don’t know what could happen,” I say. Letting the Harpy Prince fold himself around me is enough to warrant treason in Central’s eyes, maybe even death, and my tight-lipped conversations with Rupert won’t help anything if he finds out.

“You were gone in the morning,” I say, referencing the last time we were together. Even though my body is warm, I still let Asher hold me. I try to memorize the feeling of his touch.

“I was scared,” he whispers finally. I wiggle around to face him. His gaze is locked on the floor.

“Of me?” I ask.

He shakes his head, lips curling into a grimace. “No. Of myself. What I feel. How I feel about you. Knowing that it’s wrong, immoral, illegal. But I can’t push it away. I’m sorry.”

I bring my hand to his face, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. His skin is so smooth.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just wish—”

“Shh,” he whispers, planting his finger on my lips, “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just promise me you’ll save a dance for me at this big party of yours.”

I nod as I untangle myself from his embrace. “I promise.”

He grips my hand as I turn to leave and locks his eyes with mine.

“I’ll find you,” he says. I squeeze his hand tightly.

“I’ll be waiting.”



“You can’t be serious,” I say to Grier as she comes out of the bathroom in her apartment in the Corp building. She’s fully decked out in a black and white checkered ballroom gown, complete with a matching masque covered in feathers. Her ebony hair is twisted on top of her head and her lips are painted bright red, contrasting the gentle white strokes of pale makeup over her face. She places her hands on her hips and glares at me while I smother laughter.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks.

“Nothing. Don’t you think it’s a little over the top, though?” I point out. She shakes her head, a smile appearing on her lips.

“I’ve never been to the Elder Corp Banquet before. This is the first chance I’ve had to really dress up, so I’m going all out,” she points out. I look down at my own simple black gown and frown.

“So you think I’m dressed too simply?” I ask her. She nods and her eyes light up like a kid’s in a candy store.

“No,” I answer before she can say anything.

“Please, Piper?” she pleads, “I have a ton of outfits that would look amazing on you.”

I look at myself in the mirror again, sighing at the stark contrast between our two dresses. I groan, disgruntled, and throw my hands in the air.

“Fine. Do what you want with me,” I say. Cue the freaking movie montage music.

When I’m finished, I’m strapped into an emerald green taffeta ball gown with black lace adorning the sleeves and collar line. It’s tight in the bodice and the skirt is an enormous bubble. I turn to face the mirror, overcome by the mountains of lace.

“I look ridiculous,” I state, pulling the dress up past my knees to show the enormous heels I know I won’t be able to walk in.

“No you don’t, you look amazing!” Grier gushes from behind me. She hands me a green masque fully equipped with feathers and lace to complete the outfit. I sigh as I strap it onto my face, checking out my reflection once more. I’m surprised. With the masque on, I can’t see my features, and in the mirror there seems to be a beautiful young woman dressed for a ball. Put a smile on my face and I might even look charming.

Shelley barges in just as I’m spritzing on a bit of perfume, and gasps.

“You look fantastic,” she says.

Shells looks pretty good herself in a lavender gown covered in purple and pale yellow flowers.

“It’s Grier’s,” I say, “You’re sure I don’t look stupid?” She shakes her head vigorously and seats herself on Grier’s couch. She squeals when the other girl comes in, drinks in hand, and they complement each other profusely before getting seated, wine glasses spread around.

“What should we toast to?” Grier asks. I shake my head as they look my way. I’m already itching to get out of this dress.

“I’ll do the toast. To Grier, for kindly hosting us in her apartment; to Piper, whose expertise will make the resistance shine; and to me, for supplying the wine,” Shelley says. We clink glasses and swig back our drinks, and the smiles on my friends’ faces warm me like a hazy bubble. Grier pours herself another glass.

“Alright. No shop talk tonight, girls—tonight is about having a good time and forgetting about all the crap that we do in real life. Agreed?” she says. We both nod and clink our glasses again.

Shelley leans forward. “So, Grier, I need to ask you this. Why do you live in the Corp building?” she asks.

Grier yawns as if it’s old news. “I’ve got no parents, and it’s cheap,” she replies, then takes a generous sip. I sit silently, unsure how to follow up this statement. I know Grier well enough now that she doesn’t want and won’t take any sympathy. And though we’d agreed not to talk about our work, it seems to be the only thing on everyone’s mind.

“Your Chief from Central’s going to be there, Piper,” Grier says finally.

I groan loudly. “Don’t remind me. After all that’s happened, he’s the last person I want to see,” I say, though they don’t understand how very serious I am. How am I supposed to look my brother’s killer in the eyes?

“Just keep it up like you have been, and he won’t suspect a thing,” Shelley chimes in warmly.

But I really don’t know. We carry on, sip our wine and gab about anything until the time comes to leave. I inhale deeply and check my reflection one last time. Tonight I have to be the old Piper; close to Tor, and most of all, loyal to Rupert.

“Let’s go, or we’re going to be late!” Shelley trills out excitedly. My body’s buzzing from the wine, and even though the night’s sure to be filled with uncomfortable awkwardness, I’m kind of excited. I check myself in the mirror once more as Grier and Shelley leave before me. I want to arrive alone, so I wait a few minutes before leaving, but no sooner than I exit the apartment I’m barraged, a bag thrown over my head as I’m pushed and shoved into another room down the hall. I kick out in frustration, elbowing and punching my invisible attackers. I hear one cry out in pain and think I might have made it when everything stops and the bag is ripped from my head. After the shock of the light to my eyes adjusts, the room wobbles into place. My attackers are two goons standing behind me, one wincing slightly. It cheers me to see the other has a broken nose.

“You weren’t kidding when you said she was tough, boss,” one of them grunts. In front of me stands someone who I assume is their boss. Sleeved in a perfect three-piece suit, imitation alligator shoes that must have cost a fortune and casually puffing his cigar, Rupert Elder narrows his eyes at me. Beside him is his assistant Charlene, wearing a gown shaped like a skirted suit, and chic, pointed glasses.

“Hello, Piper,” he drawls, smoke lingering from his mouth.

“Rupert,” I say with a nod. Without thinking I fix my dress, making sure there are no rips or tears in Grier’s gown. I can barely look him in the eyes. All I can think about is how much I want to strangle him right now. The image of my hands around his neck is too tempting.

“You haven’t been conferencing with me much lately,” he says. Charlene is already furiously typing notes into her palm-screen.

“Is that the reason you had your monkeys here drag me into a private room?” I ask with a sneer. The one with the broken nose kicks me in the back of the knee, making me wince. Rupert softens, putting out his cigar and raising out his arms in a truce.

“Now, now, pet. I’ve simply been worried about you. I get very little correspondence from this end and I never know if you’re truly okay,” he says.

“I’m fine,” I reply stoically. This time he doesn’t play nice. His eyes burn over with anger and he rushes toward me, wrapping an ape-like hand about my neck and slamming me into the wall. He puts his nose to my nose, and the stink of his cigar makes me gag.

“You listen to me, you little bitch. I hear one word that you’re in with my sister and I’ll have you killed faster than you can count to ten. Tor tells me every little detail, including who you’ve been friendly with. You’re either on my side, or your head is mine. Do you understand?” he growls.

I hold strong, not letting his threats get to me. “You’ve got it, boss,” I manage to squeeze out. He lets go of me, shakes the tension from his hand and allows a quaint smile to return to his face.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? You swore your Hunter oaths to me. I made you. Don’t you remember?” he says. He chuckles, his gruff voice sinister as he summons his minions to follow him out the door, leaving me alone and panting in the room, with frustrated tears in my eyes and nowhere left to turn.



I enter the ballroom and I try to forget. I try to forget, but I don’t know whether it’s the dancers spinning around me or my own mind doing the twirling. I force myself to notice the beauty in the roman-esque pillars and how they’re wrapped in vines and tiny, twinkling lights. I see the symphonic band filled with strings and brass, playing a love song so ancient many have forgotten its name. I see normal people laughing, rejoicing, and I want so badly to be among them, but now I know that can never happen. I`ve trapped myself; caused my own death.

Tor finds me standing against the wall, watching the dancers whirl around, trying to find my bearings in the dizzying twilight fete. He looks handsome in a simple black tux with matching masque, his blond hair combed and gelled back, his eyes bright between the two holes.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he says, bowing gracefully before me. Inside I feel flat, but I know that I’m being watched from every angle, so I fan myself with a fake oriental paper fan and flutter my eyelashes playfully. It’s hard not to let him know that I know his secret, but I guess it comes with the job. Playing a role was never a difficult task.

“And you look quite handsome, sir,” I reply, adding a gentile southern accent. He grins widely and pulls me over to him and to the dance floor where an upbeat, brassy song has just started to play. The music washes over me as I let go of everything that’s happened over the last few weeks and allow myself to just exist. There’s no way I’m going to be able to pull any of this off if I keep worrying about whether or not I’m going to survive the night. Tor keeps his hands wrapped around my hips as we jump and spin among the other revellers, crashing into each other and laughing, drunk on wine or the last dregs of whiskey found. For a while I feel like a normal person with a good-looking date and without a worry in the world, and then I see him.

He’s leaning against a pillar, staring at me with a smirk on his lips. His tux is made of the finest silk, his masque finely crafted in a deep plum colour and his ebony hair retaining its usual sloppy, spiky style. His gaze hits me like a herd of rushing bulls and I’m pulled from my carefree dancing back into the real world where Harpy princes exist in the underground, colleagues are paid to spy on you and Directors carry secret vendettas. I look apologetically at Tor, who resumes his dancing and shows me the small flask he has in his pocket with a wink. In a flash I’ve lost the will to keep on with this charade. If I keep pretending, will it one day be my reality?

Asher waits patiently as I make my way over, stumbling over drunken girls and couples pushed together cheek to cheek. When I reach him, he pulls me close to him, breathing gently into my ear.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he whispers, sending chills up my spine. The smell of his skin clouds my thoughts; my focus is only on him now, his hands wrapped around my waist, his lips gently touching my neck.

“What are you doing?” I choke, forcing myself to keep my distance from him. He grins again, the blue of his eyes nearly glowing from under his masque.

“You promised,” he says simply. A slower song begins to play and he pulls me toward the dance floor, twirling me around with experienced ease.

“You probably saved my life the other day,” I say quietly, allowing myself to rest my head on his strong shoulder.

“I couldn’t let you kill yourself in that shower, Piper. I don’t want you to ever be in pain,” he whispers, his gaze focused on the crowd around us, not daring to look at me.

“I’m not so innocent, you know,” I reply. The way his arms fold around me feels so right, it makes me want to cry, to hold him tighter and let out all of my troubles onto him.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, feeling his hands tighten their grip. Somehow I know that he knows the bind I’m in, that he can sense from me exactly how I’m feeling, and exactly what’s at stake.

“How much are you willing to risk?” he asks, lips brushing my earlobes.

I pull his face around to look at me, searching his eyes and only seeing a profound sadness within them. What would I be willing to risk to continue this? Flashes of my life pass before me: my mom, Tor, Shelly, Elder Corp, David. David, the part of my life that made me whole, the part that’s gone now. Would I take a risk with the chance of filling it? Letting myself be whole again? I look at Asher seriously.

“Everything,” I whisper.



We leave the ballroom separately. I rush over to tell Tor I’m not feeling well, the threat of my lie weighing heavily on my chest, but he appears to be so inebriated he doesn’t care. I glance over at Rupert before leaving, but he’s got Grier on the dance floor and his face lights up at her charm; silently I thank her. I exit the underground, taking one of the public access routes to go up top instead of through the Corp building. Once I’m outside, the fresh air fills my lungs anew and I feel like whooping. I run to our spot, the abandoned building, and when I open the door he’s already there, his tuxedo jacket draped over the couch, his masque still perched over his nose. He quickly closes the gap between us, running his hands over my shoulders, my neck, drawing stilted gasps from deep within me. I reach up to pull his masque off, revealing the face I’ve come to know so well.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern.

“More than anything,” I reply, knowing it to be the truth. He pulls my own masque off my face, searching my eyes. I let my hands feel his shoulders, rub gently over his back, the rough feeling of the scar under my fingers. He tucks his face into my neck, kissing my collar bone gently, moving his way up to my earlobes.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I reply, dying for him to keep kissing me, to let me kiss him.

“Come with me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me toward the window.

“Where?” I ask breathlessly, cursing the width of the stupid dress as I struggle to walk quickly. He focuses for a minute, eyes closed, and I hear the tearing rip of skin as his wings protrude from his back.

“Fly with me,” he says.

I want to say no, sure that if I step out there I’ll die a horrific and painful death, but the eager look on his face persuades me to trust him. I unzip the heavy dress and let it fall around my ankles, leaving me only in a pale green slip. He pulls me over to the window, the cool evening breeze pulling my hair out of its elaborate up do and floating around my shoulders. Without a word he wraps his arms around me and jumps.

We plummet toward the ground, heading for certain death, when his wings spread out, evening our speed into a gentle glide. I cling to his body as his wings pull us higher and higher, until we’re above the clouds, soaring under the moon.

“This is amazing,” I shout, laughing out loud as we duck and spin through the air, like we’re dancing with the stars.

“I wanted to show you what I see,” he replies. He stops us so we’re in one place, his wings flapping to keep us up. I don’t hesitate. I bring a hand up to his cheek, rubbing his soft skin, and he leans forward and kisses me. I press back with an intensity I’ve never felt before, and as we kiss he dives toward the ground, and I’m not scared in the least.





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