Chapter Nineteen
Secrets fill my life. I keep my knowledge from the resistance, I keep my motives from my bosses, and I keep Asher from everybody. Some of the staff go home for the winter holidays early, Shelley included, and I spend most of my time avoiding people. Number one is Tor, and number two is Myra, who I’m not ready to speak with just yet. Joining her team means telling her about Asher, and I don’t think I’m ready to risk it until I know more.
Tor comes to the Hunter lounge while I’m organizing the rest of my year-end paperwork. I turn when I hear a muffled cough to find him standing in the entrance, his eyes looking puffy and red as if he’s been crying, or maybe just doing something he knew was wrong.
“Hey,” I say quietly. I know he’s going to confront me. It was a miracle that no one seemed to have noticed my disappearance at the Banquet. Since then I’ve been avoiding Tor’s looks in the Corp halls, eating lunch underground, faking sick, and making myself do extra work. He sees through it. He has to see through it. This is it. This is when he’s going to tell me what his real motives are.
“We need to talk,” he whispers.
My heart plummets in my chest. I’ve been preparing myself for this, knowing that what I’m doing is wrong, but I still didn’t expect it to hurt like this. All this time I’ve known that Tor, who used to be everything to me, has been wronging me at every turn, but I don’t think I’ve ever had to accept it. Until now. Am I selfish for wanting Asher and misleading Tor? Or am I just cowardly, unable to sleep in the bed I made myself?
He sits down at one of the desks, sighs deeply, and looks at me, his brown eyes so pained in that instant I want to break down.
“I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me. You don’t have lunch with me, don’t talk at meetings, you can’t even look at me right now while I’m talking to you,” he says.
I bite my lower lip, force myself to look at him, feel his anger cut me down.
“I’m sorry, I’ve just been—”
“Save it,” he interrupts, “I know there’s something going on. I can sense it from you. This is just like what happened before,” he mutters.
“What?” I exclaim. I glare at him incredulously. He stands up and towers over me.
“Are you feigning amnesia again, Piper? You don’t remember all the sneaking around, lying to me, all while you were with him,” he snipes.
I look around the room frantically, tears sprouting from my eyes. I’m thinking back to a year ago, before David, when Tor and I broke up, but I can’t remember anyone else, I can’t remember anything.
“I don’t remember!” I shout, my tears turning my breathing into harsh sobs. I curl up into a ball on the small chair, my eyes wide, trying to think of anything from before. A phone call with mom, a hunt I did well on, David, Tor, Shelley. But nothing comes, only a permeating blackness and a flash of those bright blue eyes.
Tor puts a hand on my back and I brush him off—my head is spinning and my hands begin to shake from panic. Why can’t I remember anything?
“You really don’t remember?” he asks softly.
I know he’s feeling guilty, staring at me awkwardly, wanting to help me but unsure how. I shake my head violently, rocking myself, counting to ten a hundred times until my head clears.
“Do you want me to get anyone?” he asks finally as my breathing slows to a normal rate. But I don’t want to talk to anybody, or see anybody, because every single person in my life has been lying to me. I thought it was just Elder Corp, but now I can see that it’s everyone. There are details about the events of last year that are still swept under, hidden. I’m going to find out what they are, and no one is going to stand in my way.
“I want you to leave,” I whisper. I can feel the desperation oozing from him as he slowly rises from his crouched position over me. I don’t want him to leave like this, but I know it’s for his own good, to keep him safe, even after everything. I don’t even bother to tell him I know his secret, just stare at the floor as he slowly backs out of the room. After he’s gone I wipe my tears away, ready to stop crying about the past I’ve forgotten and finally find the truth.
Home. In the past it used to be the place I looked forward to being at after a hard night at work, where Mom would be reading in the living room, a plate of dinner waiting in the fridge. David and I would sneak out onto the roof, the black tunnel walls in Central almost an arm’s reach away before they built the Holo-sky, ignoring the repugnant stink of the underground waste systems. We’d talk about Hunting, wonder where Dad was, and tell each other our secrets and wishes. He might have been the only one who knew what was happening with me a year ago, and now he’s gone.
I enter my house, gagging on the smells now that I’ve been spoiled by fresh air for so long, and it’s exactly as I left it. Pictures have been torn off the walls, replaced by vague, stock calendars, the floral printed couch covering the hole my head put in the wall when David and I wrestled. It’s immaculately tidy.
“I’m home!” I call out, dropping my luggage in the front entrance. I miss the sounds of the old records Mom used to keep playing—classical and jazz used to flow through the now sickly silent rooms. I navigate the house in search of life; hoping Mom remembered I was coming home today. I’m shocked when I enter the kitchen and hear:
“Surprise!”
Sitting at the table with a banner reading Welcome Home, Piper! is my smiling mother and Shelley, my own little homecoming party.
“Thanks guys,” I murmur, wrapping them both into my arms, alarmed at how frail my mom has become. She pulls away, a tiny smile still on her face, and it warms my heart so much just to see her again, and smiling! Shelley motions for me to sit down.
“What’s going on? Why are you guys so happy?” I ask, realizing how ridiculous it sounds. Why shouldn’t they be happy?
“Something very fortunate happened last week, and I wanted to wait to tell you until you came home,” mom says. She looks like she’s about to bubble over with excitement.
“Go on,” I encourage.
“I received an anonymous gift, a very generous sum of money. Enough to buy a house in a fresh air zone!” she exclaims.
“Isn’t that great?” Shelley chimes in.
I sit there, dumbfounded. This doesn’t sound right to me. Anonymous gift of money? Could it be a Corp bribe? Or Asher stepping in?
“That’s great, Mom,” I say, trying to seem enthusiastic. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it seems like bribe money to me. “You have no clue where it came from?” I ask. Mom shakes her head.
“It was just an envelope stuffed with bills that was addressed to me, signed a generous benefactor,” she says.
“We need to catch up, to your room?” Shelley says, pulling me away from the table, and from my mother who’s lost in some gleeful daze. I nod, but my motion is zombie-like as we tread up the stairs to what used to be my room. It used to be our ritual to come up here and share the latest gossip, sometimes chatting late into the night about whatever. Now the thought of going to my room seems suffocating, filled with too many memories of a person I can no longer be.
Shelley closes the door and plops on my bed, her board-straight blond hair pulled behind her head in a silky ponytail.
“Your mom’s so happy,” she says as I join her. I nod absentmindedly, sitting down beside her.
“How have you been?” I ask, letting myself lie back on the bed, looking at the familiar view of the stick-on stars making constellations on my ceiling.
“I’ve been working at the Rad Lab here, trying to collect some more information. It hasn’t been easy. Central’s locked up tight. All I’ve been doing is actually making garments. Can you imagine the Rad gear I’m going to be able to design? You could actually look fashionable out there,” she says. I force a laugh. “Now, you need to tell me all about what I missed last week. How are things with Tor?” she asks. I bite my lower lip, the mention of the situation bringing back painful memories.
“Actually, we had a fight just before I left,” I say, eliciting a gasp from my best friend.
“Does he know, then?” she asks, eyes wide and paranoid.
“I don’t really know about anything anymore. Shells, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me,” I say. She nods seriously. “Was there ever another guy in my life? Like a year ago?” I ask.
She looks down at the floor, inhaling sharply. I was worried about this. I need her to tell me everything straight, so I can try to wrap my head around it.
“There was someone. You never told me much about him, not even his name, but you used to disappear all the time to be with him. It was a really weird time. You don’t remember any of it?” she asks.
I shake my head no. “How could I have been with someone when I don’t even remember it?” I wonder aloud.
“Trauma’s a tough thing, Piper. I mean, you witnessed your brother die, it only makes sense that you would have some psychological repercussions,” she answers matter-of-factly.
How can she think this is so simple? People don’t just forget entire parts of their lives. “How did I look, then?” I ask. I know I should just leave it, but I need to know.
“Happy,” she says honestly, “in love, I guess. It broke Tor’s heart though, when it all happened.”
Of course it did. I’m such a jackass. No wonder he took on Rupert’s offer.
“So what happens next?” she asks.
“We move on. Nothing’s changed,” I reply. But that’s not true. Everything’s changed. Everything I thought I knew about myself is at stake. How do you find a past you can’t remember?
“I’m always here if you need me,” Shelley whispers.
Shelley leaves and my mother is quick to retire to bed, leaving me wide awake in my room with nothing but my thoughts swirling through my mind. There are just too many unanswered questions. What exactly happened a year ago? Why are my memories so patchy? I jump when I hear a sound at my window, and scramble to check it out.
I nearly scream when I see Asher outside, wings tucked into place, standing on the roof outside of my house. I pull the window open quietly and usher him inside.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper. I cross my arms in front of my body self-consciously; I’m wearing only a small tank top and boxer shorts.
“I needed to see you. You didn’t say goodbye before you left,” he answers, his voice breathless. I look him up and down, he seems tired, his starched white shirt drenched with sweat and rain.
“Did you fly here from Ichton?” I ask.
He nods. “Things aren’t exactly going well with my family right now. I opted to spend the holiday away from them,” he replies. We stand there for a moment, silently staring at each other before he sits down on my bed. My bed, complete with purple frilly comforter and ratty stuffed animals. I’m still so lost in everything, I don’t know what to say.
“Are you okay?” he asks finally.
“Just really confused about everything; including us. Are you really sure we should be doing this?” I ask. I don’t know why I say it. I haven’t even thought it. His eyes flash with hurt.
“I think it’s a little past that now. If you want to call it off, we can,” he mutters.
“I never said that,” I reply quickly, “I just want to be sure about it. I want you to be sure about it.”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life,” he says, looking me straight in the eye. I can’t help it; I need to be close to him, to feel his warmth. I sit beside him and he leans right in to kiss me, the feeling of his lips on mine rushing through my entire body as I grasp his damp shirt, his hands wrapped firmly around my waist.
As he begins to pull me on top of him I struggle to push myself away.
“My mom’s downstairs,” I gasp, but he continues, his lips making their way down my neck and collar-bone, over my chest and down my stomach until he’s kissing my hip bone. I gasp loudly as pleasure surges through me. “Seriously, these walls are paper-thin,” I protest while I still have the willpower. He nods and kisses me again firmly on the lips.
“Come outside with me,” he says.
My mind does a 180. Ichton might have fresh air zones, but Central was one of the hardest hit areas, there’s nothing but waste above the ground here.
“I’ll die if I go out there, Asher. The radiation—” I begin.
“Piper, there’s no radiation as high as we’re going to be,” he says, flashing me that devilish grin.
How do I know I’m going to regret this? I take his hand as he leads me toward my open window and we make our way to the outside world.
As soon as we’re in the air my heart is pounding a hundred miles an hour, certain I’m going to fall to my death. I don’t think I could ever get used to this, feeling so small as we soar over stretches of vast forest and desert.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers in my ear, gripping me closely. Reluctantly I shut them, feeling the wind whipping through my air even more acutely. When I open my eyes I see that we’re high up in the sky, resting at the top of a tall, wind-ravaged skyscraper. The wind is blowing through my hair, sending it in waves behind me as I survey the scene. Asher is beside me, holding onto me tightly, his wings wrapped around me to block most of the chill, and the view in front of me causes me to gasp in awe. We’re above a massive city, lights shining from every building in different hues of yellow, orange, red and blue. It’s like a picture from the old postcards I’ve seen in museums.
“Where are we?” I ask breathlessly. He holds his arm out over the city lights proudly.
“This is my Empire,” he says, his voice somewhere in between pride and bewilderment.
“The Harpy city?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s like a replica of the old human cities before the war, the streets empty but for a few lonely strangers even though the lights are shining as brightly as ever.
“Ehvelar,” he whispers, holding me tighter as a gust of wind whips past us. I can feel my lips chapping in the piercing cold, thankful for his warmth around me.
“Why did you bring me here?”
He pushes his lips to my hair. “I wanted you to see what it’s like outside of your world, what’s outside of the tunnels and the underground. I wanted you away from Elder Corp, even just for a night, to see what else is around you,” he says, his breath tickling my ears. I turn toward him, studying the fierce blue of his eyes, the easy sway of his shaggy hair, the gentle curve of his lips. He shifts his eyes back toward the city, and I allow myself to fall into a soft silence, just the electric hum of street lights filling my ears. It’s hard because the part of me with morals is screaming what are you doing out here? David would kill you if he were around to see this. But another, stronger part of me is insisting that I’m doing the right thing. Do I follow my head or my heart?
“What are you thinking?” Asher whispers.
“What am I not thinking?” I reply, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m thinking about David. How it’s not fair what happened. He was always the better Hunter, the better child, the better person. It’s not fair that I’m here and he isn’t. Sometimes I wish it were the other way around,” I mutter.
“Don’t do that,” he says sharply.
“Do what?”
“Blame yourself. It’s not your fault David died, and don’t even try to tell me you shouldn’t be here, I need you here,” he says.
I take another deep breath, willing my heart to settle in my chest.
“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard sometimes,” I say. I can see that he’s bothered so I decide to change the subject. “Tell me about your family, what’s it like to grow up as a Harpy Prince?”
He grimaces slightly. “That’s hard to describe. I guess it was luxurious at times, gruesome at others, and at times horrifying. In the palace, there were these hunting parties that would go out for the week and round up…game,” he says.
“Game, as in deer?” I ask quietly, though I know it’s not what he means.
“No, as in human. There would sometimes be twenty, maybe more and they’d be penned up together until we were ready to feast, then they’d be slaughtered and eaten fresh in the banquet room.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick, imagining all those people just waiting for their deaths.
“See, we don’t need to eat every day like humans do. In the palace, we feasted maybe once a month, and even that was excessive. My parents liked to live lavishly; my mother especially enjoys a more macabre feasting experience,” he says.
“Is she beautiful?” I ask. I picture what she would look like; long and lean, with the same thick black hair as Asher, the same stark blue eyes.
“She’s deadly,” Asher snarls, causing me to recoil from him. “I’m sorry,” he adds, “I’m a little frustrated with my family right now.”
“What about your father, what was he like?” I probe.
His eyes cloud over at the mention of his father, his thoughts seemingly veering off into some distant place where I’m not allowed. Even after reviewing all of those journals, Asher’s family, and his father especially, is still a mystery for me.
“He was messed up, to say the least. He’s the one who gave me the scar on my back,” he says quietly after an unbearable pause. I bite my lip, unsure of what to say.
“I used to idolize him when I was little, you know. He was always untouchable, off in his own world hunting and being the big Emperor. I don’t know, after a while I started to realize that he was just a man with his own problems, and no matter how much I needed it, he couldn’t help me. With him it was always as if he needed something more from me, and if I couldn’t provide it there would be repercussions,” he says carefully.
I sigh deeply, taking this information in. “Did you ever try to talk to him about it?” I suggest.
He turns to me and lets out a peal of laughter. “I don’t think you know Harpies that well, yet,” he snorts, but when he sees the hurt look on my face, pulls back his mirth.
“I know you,” I whisper.
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not like a regular Harpy.”
“What, you actually have feelings?” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh along with me.
“Actually, that’s exactly it. It was something I could never come to terms with, why I saw things so differently from everyone I knew. My father picked up on it, called me soft, told me I was a waste of skin, a waste of wings. You see, I’m not good enough to be a Harpy, but I’m not good enough to be human either, so where does that leave me?” he ponders, a sharp laugh exiting his lips.
“It makes you Asher, just you, no expectations. You can be whatever you want to be,” I say earnestly.
“You’re too good for me, Piper,” he whispers, “but I don’t know what I want. There’s still a lot of stuff I have to come to terms with, stuff I can’t really talk about just yet.”
He disappears again, lost in the pits of something far too deep for me to even try to understand.
We’re nearly at the train station when I finally ask my mom about David. I’ve been avoiding it my entire trip home, the thought of it haunting the air of the house around me.
“Mom, I need to ask you something about…him,” I say as we park at the station. She gives me an earnest look, but I can see the dread clouding her eyes. She’s not ready for this. I take a deep breath, ready to spew the speech I’ve been preparing for days.
“What is it, baby?” she asks, placing her hand on my arm in encouragement.
“Did he ever tell you anything about doing like…tests? For Elder Corp?”There. I’ve said it, now to wait for the inevitable crash.
Mom’s silent for a minute, deep in her thoughts, before she says, “Who told you that?”
“I read it in a document that I found,” I lie. God, I hate lying to my mom, but there’s no way I’m getting her even more anxious by telling her about the Corp. I’m expecting her to cry, but she just stares out the windshield. It’s starting to snow, softly, coating the outside world as cold as my heart is feeling. I don’t know why the Corp insists on snow in winter—maybe to make us feel more human.
“That is what killed him, those tests. I never told you. I don’t really know why. I feel responsible because I signed the damn papers for him to go through with it. The Corp promised me that nothing would go wrong, but how was I supposed to know that it would? Goddamn it!” she yells, slamming the steering wheel with her fist. I really don’t know what to say. My entire life I was raised to believe that my mother knew best, that as long as it was in her hands it would be taken care of, but I’m starting to realize that life is never that simple, that when we grow up we don’t become the all-knowing adult. We’re just as vulnerable as we were as toddlers, trying to make sense of the big world.
“It’s not your fault, Mom,” I whisper, willing myself to stay strong for her. She turns toward me, forcing a tight smile through her tears.
“You don’t always have to be strong, Piper. It’s alright to feel what you’re feeling,” she says.
“I know,” I answer, but I’m still pushing it down, the hurt, and now a rising anger that I know the truth. “I’m not going to let them get away with it,” I say, teeth clenched.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? But we all have to make peace with it at some point. As much as I’d love to see the Corp suffer for what they did to my baby, there’s no way you’ll be able to take them down,” she says.
But I’m not listening. I’m already planning on my next course of action. Because my brother died from something they put inside of him, and I will never be able to make peace with that.