Chapter Twenty
I return to Ichton and my life is once again taken over by routine. I go to meetings where Tor and I systematically don’t interact even though we’re in the same room, I help the members of Valhalla sort out their found information, and at night I wait for a tiny sparrow signalling time with Asher.
A week in I schedule a meeting with Myra. I skip lunch to go to the office. The train ride to Ichton was filled with questions, and it’s finally time I get my answers. A young man is in Myra’s office when I open the door, the two of them whispering fervently over her desk.
“Uh, sorry,” I say. Neither of them moves, though both glances are fixed on me and Myra quickly plasters on a smile and for a split-second I second-guess my decision to come here. Can I trust her? Can I really trust anybody?
“Jake and I were just finishing up. What can I do for you, Miss Madden?” she asks cheerfully.
The man takes this as his cue to leave. He smiles at me on his way out but I ignore him, waiting until the door’s closed behind him to speak.
“I want to work for you,” I say immediately. Myra’s eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise.
“I was hoping you would. You’d be an excellent addition to our team,” she says carefully, then gestures for me to sit down. She pauses. “But how can I know to trust you?” she asks pensively.
“How can I know to trust you?” I counter.
“Has everything I’ve told you not been true? I’ve never lied to you, Piper, which is more than I can say for your beloved Corporation. You’ve only begun to scratch the surface,” she says, almost vehemently.
“What about the Royals? Would you ever have told me about Asher and Darcy if I hadn’t found out first?” I say, exasperated. Myra lets out a small sigh, looking like she’s contemplating what to tell me.
“I couldn’t tell you about them, Piper, because you could have run off to Rupert and told him, and we would have had a very sticky mess on our hands. You do know there are those of us who don’t wish to fight with the Harpies,” she says.
I press my fingers to my temples, massaging hard as I try to process information. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that it’s possible for co-habitation, and there are those who are willing to pursue that opposed to war,” she says steadily.
“And you’re one of those people?” I ask. I don’t need an answer; I know she’ll say yes. This was why her husband was murdered, because he wanted a more accepting society. And yet, it doesn’t seem all that horrifying to me; a world with peace between Harpy, Hunter and human. I have a stake in this world. I wouldn’t have to hide my feelings in shame.
“How big is the movement already?”
Myra smiles at me knowingly, knowing she’s got me right where she wants me. “A few hundred Hunters and quite a large base of Harpies. Jake, the man who was just here, is one of the organizers of a rebel base in the forest. If you come aboard, you need to realize that there’s no going back. It’s going to be a dangerous fight, with a large possibility of death. But I believe that if we win, it’ll be the beginning of a new era. We can say goodbye to the tyranny of the Corporation and start anew.”
Her eyes light up as she speaks, and as she briefs me on how far the rebel movement has already spread, I know somehow that this is the right choice, and the only way I’ll ever be able to avenge David. It’s also the only way that Asher and I can ever be together, but I keep that thought burrowed in my mind. I make a decision once and for all, my final decision, and nod my head in the affirmative.
“I just have one stipulation,” I say before I hand my life over to the cause.
“Name it,” Myra replies.
“I want a raise.”
She chuckles lightly and waves me away.
“Done.”
I eat lunch alone in a noodle house in the streets, the milling crowds of residents rushing by me in a blur of motion. Shelley’s still in Central finishing her recon duties and Sandy’s got some big thing planned with Grier, but I don’t mind. I need some time to ruminate. One thing does bother me though; Asher hasn’t contacted me. Usually I’d have heard from him by now, but when we last met he looked deflated, and I can’t help but think that something must have happened to him in Ehvelar. I clear up my table when I’m finished picking at the last few bits of baby corn on my plate and make my way toward our place.
When I hit the top of the building’s stairs I hear voices inside. Stopping quickly, I try to limit my breathing, listening in through the door. Immediately I identify Darcy’s voice, shrill and angry.
“Asher, the point is that you missed the largest Royal function of the year. What do you think our people are thinking right now? If the future Emperor can just flake out on the Yule ceremony, what other duties will he ignore? Where the hell were you, anyway?”
“What I do on my own time is none of your business,” Asher quips angrily. I can imagine his eyes glaring sharply at his sister.
“Oh, do not start acting all self-important with me. I am your SISTER, and also a member of the Royal family. You owe it to me to start talking to me. What’s been going on with you? You’re never home, and you spend half of your time up here reading and staring at the goddamned stars! Everyone’s worried about you, Ash,” Darcy replies. There’s a loud bang, like Asher has punched his fist through the wall.
“I’m never home because I can’t be around our insane brother, and I come up here to get away from you and your prying. I don’t want to talk, so you might as well leave now to save yourself some disappointment.” Oh, shit. And here I am with my ear to the only exit.
“You haven’t hunted, brother. I can smell it on you. You’re going to drive yourself insane. What did our father always warn you—”
“Shut up,” Ash says, lowering his voice, “there’s someone outside the door.”
My heart starts racing as my mind struggles to make an excuse for why I’m here. The sound of footsteps toward the door rings ominously in my ears. If I try to run down the stairs they’ll still see me, and it’ll look like I really was eavesdropping. I can’t say I’m here to see Ash, I’m not even supposed to be in contact with him let alone meeting him up here. Instead I elect to play the situation and knock on the door firmly.
“Get out of here, I’ll handle it,” Asher whispers. I hear the tearing rip of wings and wait for the creak of the window opening.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Darcy hisses, and then it’s silent.
Asher comes to the door.
“Do you think she’ll be suspicious?” I ask. He takes a last look at the empty window, shrugs and shuts the door gently.
“Probably not, but I don’t think she would suspect anything beyond an after dinner booty-call.”
I shrivel up my nose in distaste as Ash grins widely. “What? That isn’t what this is?”
I punch him jokingly in the arm, knowing that even the hardest of my punches would barely leave a mark. He growls and lifts me up from my feet, carrying me over to the couch as I squeal in protest. We plop on the cushy sofa together and he nuzzles his face into my neck, kissing me until it tickles. I kick my feet in the air and right myself, kissing him deeply on the lips, the warmth of his hands on mine making all of my anxiety fade away.
“So, what went on with Darcy earlier?” I ask Ash after we’ve reacquainted ourselves. It’s already dark outside, the winter chill biting, even indoors.
“She’s upset with me. We have this winter feast thing back in Ehvelar, and I’m supposed to take the first taste, being that I’m the Crown Prince. When I didn’t show, I guess she thought I was looking down on my duties or something. I think both she and Gabriel are jealous that I was born first. Honestly, if I could give up the crown, I would, but in my world the Crown Prince inherits unless he dies. You see the conundrum,” he replies.
“You’d really want to give it up?”
He nods slowly. “There’s a lot more to being the Emperor of the Harpies than just royal duties. There’s…this thing,” he says, then stops, looking away from me. Anger flashes behind his eyes, and confusion.
“What is it?” I coax, rubbing his back gently. He winces, and I realize his scar’s bleeding again, the faint outline of the serpentine figure weeping through his shirt. “Does it have to do with how you got this?” I ask.
He nods again and takes my hand firmly. “It all has to do with power. That’s what Harpies live for, is power. The Emperor of Ehvelar must have the ultimate power. But there are a lot of…side effects,” he says.
I want to punch him right now for being so cryptic. “You can trust me,” I say gently, “just start from the beginning.”
He sighs deeply before continuing. “I got this scar from my father. He had an identical one and so has every inherent from the beginning of the monarchy. It’s a symbol of the ultimate power. A long time ago one of my ancestors discovered these tokens called nagaraja, or snake pearls. Basically they drain the entire life force of another being, and you can use them to infuse that power into another being. I’ve been getting power like this put into me since I was a kid. My father left on a hunt, and every time he came home he had another round of lives to weld onto me. That’s why the scar on my back doesn’t heal, even though every other wound will seal up in seconds,” he finishes.
Speechless, I pull up the back of his shirt, placing the scar in my direct view. Up close it’s incredibly intricate, the gentle coils of the serpent etched into his back still fresh, like it was just carved. I trace my fingers around it, feeling its throbbing heat from the base of his tailbone up to the top of his left shoulder, where two punctures make glaring eyes.
“What kind of power?” I ask slowly.
“Strength and speed beyond anything you’ve ever seen. I’m a weapon created by my father. I’m just a tool to him, don’t you see? He never once cared for me other than for his own means. God, I didn’t even know about it all until this weekend. Gabriel cornered me as soon as he saw me and told me. How he knew about it is something I’ll never know. He’s getting more and more dangerous,” he says.
I ignore the part about Gabriel. My days are filled with talk of Harpy rebels, I revert instead to the scar. “What do you mean? You never really knew why you had the scar?”
He shakes his head furiously. “I always suspected it was from him. I can’t really remember much, it’s like a dream. I know he’d bring me into the study and there would be a lot of pain, and, how do I say this? It’s like I can feel the emotions of the souls he put into me. When the infusion happens, it’s like I become part of these people, or they become a part of me. Who am I?” he chokes, beginning to sob. I hurriedly take his head in my arms, cradling him gently.
“Shh,” I whisper, stroking his hair. He wraps his arms around me, gripping me tightly.
“I’m so sorry. Sometimes it’s too much for me to…feel,” he whispers.
Of course it is. Harpies don’t have the emotional regulation that humans do. I’m trying to imagine what it’s like to be barraged by feelings you’ve never known your entire life. Even the thought is almost agonizingly painful.
“Were any of the souls infused into you human?” I ask suddenly. I mean, it makes sense, really. If there were only Harpy souls, he wouldn’t feel all of those human feelings.
“What?” he asks, looking up at me.
I let him go, standing up to illustrate my point. “I mean, what if some of the souls your dad stole were human souls? Wouldn’t that make you feel human emotions?” I ask. He looks perplexed, but nods slowly.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t have any way of knowing that though, it’s not like daddy dearest kept a list of everyone he ever killed. Or maybe he did. I guess I could look,” he says.
“It’d be a start anyway. Does Myra know about any of this?”
“Not unless my mother told her, but I don’t see that happening. Why would she let the leader of a Hunter sect know that her son’s a weapon?”
“I guess not,” I reply. Yet another secret to keep. When will they stop piling up?
There are so many pieces to this puzzle, and yet I still can’t put them together; Myra’s revolt, Harpy vaccines, David’s drug, and now this. All I really want is the truth.
“Piper, there’s something else,” Ash says.
I turn to look at him expectantly, but his eyes cloud over, replaced by something dark, menacing.
“It’s nothing. I’m just really glad you’re in my life.”
I tuck myself into his arms, letting him hold me tightly, but I can’t escape the nagging feeling that he’s still hiding something from me, something huge.
Shelley’s in the kitchen waiting for me when I get home. It’s well after dark.
“Hey, you’re home!” I exclaim. I’m waiting for her to give me news on her remaining days in Central and whether or not she managed to get any information, but she keeps her gazed fixed on the table, her fingers tapping.
“It’s late. Where were you tonight?” she asks.
I try to keep calm instead of panicking as I come up with a viable response. “Just running over some training at the Corp,” I lie, taking a seat across from her. She laughs under her breath, and when she does look at me, her eyes are filled with an emotion I’ve never seen in her: distrust.
“Really? Because I’ve been with Sandy and Grier most of the night going over the new information, so unless you’ve figured out how to run a VR mod yourself, I’d rethink your story,” she spits.
I bite my lip, staring blankly at her. She’s caught me. I’m done, I have nothing to say in my defence. “I wasn’t training,” I say finally. Shelley nods, gaze flittering about the room. Her eyes are red like she’s about to cry. I don’t know what else to say.
“Where were you, then?” she repeats.
“I—I can’t tell you,” I reply. My own voice is quivering now as my best friend’s legs begin to shake with anger.
“How am I—How are we supposed to trust you when you are constantly running off and lying about where you are and what you’re doing?” she says.
“Shelley, come on, you know me—” I start, but she slams her hand on the table, silencing me.
“Do I know you, really? Because the last time I checked, we never kept secrets from each other. You expect me to just trust you with anything and everything without a care in the world, but guess what? Trust isn’t something you can just automatically retain. You have to earn it. And lately, you’ve been so spaced out when you are here that I don’t even know what to do with you. This is just like what happened before. You started getting quiet, then you started disappearing without telling anyone. You can tell me, Piper. What’s going on with you?” she says.
I feel like I’ve been blasted with shrapnel, but instead of feeling offended, heat rises in my cheeks. How dare she bring up something I can’t even remember?
“There is nothing going on. Shit, Shelley, give me some slack. My brother died!”
“This is going to sound insensitive, Piper, but you need to hear it. Yes, David did die, but that was over a year ago. You need to get over it and move on with your life. You’re driving yourself crazy,” she says, trying to grab my hand.
I push her away, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m trying to move on! I’ve been trying so hard just to find some fricking closure on all this, but it doesn’t help when my best friend doesn’t even support me!”
“Because you never tell me what’s going on! It’s not like I’m just some random person here, you always used to tell me everything, Piper. I honestly don’t know what’s changed. But I think you need to start being honest with yourself, first. I’m tired of the secrecy all the time. Come find me when you’re ready to start being honest with me again.” She stands up and angrily stomps toward the door.
I look around me, at the posters and documents on the walls, the slander and scandal and the infiltration, and for once I’m angry, maddened by this world and the people in it, by the expectations and the depressing, lowly reality that follows. I stand up, sending my chair flying backward, and I tear every single piece of paper off the wall until I’m sitting alone on the floor, surrounded by the headlines that only illustrate how very little control of my life I have.