Windswept (The Airborne Saga) (10 page)

“Yea
h, everyone’s still afraid of him being loose and all. I heard Samuel’s compound had burned down and just assumed…”

“Burned down? Samuel’s compound had been blown to pieces sweetie. That was the strongest bomb I’ve ever seen to level a place that size. But as for Patrick—most criminals don’t run around with no benefit to themselves
,” Perry explained as she offered Avery a few slices of jam and bread.

Maybe Adalyn and Patrick had just gotten into a big fight. There was nothing like domestic violence and blowing down buildings to make a point. But Patrick hadn’t wanted Adalyn dead—he’d said that. Why would he blow the place to shreds? Or why would she?

              But it was what Perry said next that Avery never saw coming.

             
“There was a witness—a survivor. She’d know what happened even if she didn’t do it—not a big talker though, I suppose. She is locked up right now down by the police station.  I’m sure that’s why Prince Mason and Councilman Stern have their feathers in a bunch. Rushing over to see us in Portland—psh. They knew we’d back Jericho’s bloodline anyways. So yes, I know Prince Mason isn’t here on the political campaign.”

             
“Wait, who is the survivor?” Avery suddenly ignored her food and stood from the table.

             
“Oh, come now, have you not heard? The harpie they found beaten half way to death and covered in earth and ash? You may know her as a criminal, but she’s royalty really. Her name is Eva.”

Eight

              “Strawberry or chocolate? Milk or dark? And frosted?”

             
Perry got her delicious reputation for something, but somehow Avery didn’t enjoy answering twenty questions when her mind focused on other things. Her flour-coated hands hovered above whatever bowl of mix she was supposed to be spinning. Perry was across the room at the oven, visual attention thankfully deterred at the moment.

             
Avery continued to wonder why Eva had been found in Portland. Why had she been tied up in the entire mix? Though the pair had met before, they hardly should have been considered friends. In fact, Eva had expressed her curiosity and disgust about Patrick in the past. But Avery could only come to one conclusion about the entire thing. Patrick had joined the Band. An escaped convict, the Band would be proper if not inviting. Eva confronted Adalyn in Portland—as the Band had done to her father Samuel in the past—but Adalyn escaped in the struggle. Adalyn came to warn Avery about the band but Patrick had stopped her, saved her, because he felt like he owed the woman something.

             
It was so simple. It was the world according to Occam’s razor. But then Avery couldn’t quit thinking about why Mason had attempted to hide this from her or protect her so bloody much. She felt like she needed to know.

             
“I’ll give you strawberries anyways. Wonderful aphrodisiac,” Perry randomly chirped.

             
Torn from her thought process, Avery’s head shot up.

             
“What?”  Avery zoned back in when she heard the words.

             
“Sweetie, now we all know. Rooming with our Prince? I just wish they’d suck up the flustering over the Prince and make the announcement official.”

             
Avery’s head spun all over again.

             
“Wait, what?” she repeated more forcefully this time. Avery technically understood what Perry was getting at. But that wasn’t the issue that she focused on. “Should I even be asking who is considered we all? And what announcement?”

             
“First, mix.” Perry returned to Avery’s side of the kitchen and clinked the bowl with a wooden spoon. “And you of all people should be telling me about the announcement. You and Mason. Official.”

             
Something told Avery that Perry wasn’t just referring to the boyfriend relationship. She swallowed thickly and bought a moment by finishing the dough in front of her. When done, she threw it onto the counter like directed and began breaking up the pieces. Avery spoke after she finished one row of her creation.

             
“I don’t think there’s really an announcement to be made. And quite frankly, I’m not sure why anyone thinks Mason and I were...” Sleeping together? They were just sleeping. She couldn’t quite mention that either. Face flushing, Avery was about ready for the entire conversation to be over.

             
“I know what this is about. And I wish you wouldn’t concern yourself with old fashioned harpies. We’re a mixed society to begin with. Why people look down on human mates is just idiotic. And they shouldn’t expect anything else from Jericho’s line. Of all the pure-breeds, he’s always been the most open to humans.”

             
Avery saw her opening for a distraction and snagged it like a pro.

             
“You mean there are different types of harpies?”

             
“There aren’t exactly classes if you will. We’re not registered with ID cards or anything silly now, darling. There are just some harpies that are more pure-breed. This really makes up anyone who has been royal in our past. They’re harpie harpie harpie as far back as we can go. Now others have had one or two humans in our lines.

             
“For most people, you could never tell by looking at them. But it is apparent in some. Pure-breeds are always tall, lean, and thin. Wider wing mast. Then the ones mixed with humans began to lose those qualities over generations.”

             
Perry didn’t need to finish for Avery to instantly know what she’d meant. Avery had seen it all along but never put the differences in harpies’ sizes into context before. The bulky muscular harpies seemed nothing like Mason and his thin, light physique. Those bulky harpies though had always been the most dangerous, the harpies to fight with, and they didn’t break as easily. Put frankly, they seemed like the better choice when it came down to survival of a species. But she didn’t need to be told how bloodline context worked—the same here as any other society.

             
“I’m sorry,” Avery said before she could shut up. Perry was obviously one of the human breed, smaller and built more like a real person than a beanpole.

             
“Hush, honey. Nothing to be sorry about and no more than I have to be for my kind always being so haughty to humans after all. Just don’t believe for a second you can’t marry Mason and have children that are just as worthy of the title harpie as anyone else’s offspring are.”

             
And it was right back to that. This time Avery didn’t recover as quickly. Hand’s going stiff, she dropped the dough and headed straight for the door. Marriage? Babies? Babies with wings? Only succeeding in making herself sicker, she threw the door open and went straight for the first clearing off of the pavement. Her feet stopped her before she inched toward a crevasse that marked the end of harpie infrastructure on this side of the mountain. Though not massive in size, it dropped into a surprisingly jagged deformity in the mountain—probably harpie made. But unused and empty, it was just a hole now worthy of an unsightly death. Or vomiting into over the thought of winged babies.

             
“Ms. Zane,” a voice called out just as she got out the first dry heave. Hand to her gut, she threw her hair back and mustered a closed-lip smile. Stern paced over to her in no time at all.

             
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes sizing her up and down. Hoping she hadn’t turned as utterly green as she felt, she politely nodded.

             
“Well, good. I’m sorry I was short earlier. Mason shouldn’t make the habit of disappearing without a word to anyone. I’ve now gathered that he’d left to retrieve you.”

             
There didn’t seem to be a responsible answer to that so Avery didn’t bother giving one.

             
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

             
“Yes, while I had always intended to support you, Ms. Zane, I must point out that I cannot approve this kind of behavior. My main job here is to cater to Mason’s every need and I control any undue influences in his life.”

             
The abrupt change in atmospheres between the bakery and the outside left Avery in an awkward state of flux. Was Stern another person assuming she was going to marry Mason and be popping out kids so soon? Did harpies not know what college meant to a human? Standing at his full height with eyes cast downward to even see her, Stern did nothing but radiate authority. She didn’t bring that up now.

             
“What do you want me to do?” she tried instead.

             
“I need you to work with me. And unfortunately, outside of Portland, I cannot have you shacking up with our Prince. You’ll need your own quarters until further notice. And we’ll need to introduce you to the public in a proper way before you make any outside appearances with our Prince. This may take much time on its own.”

             
Now Avery was beginning to get the feeling of being locked in the attic as the reject human. Unsettling to say the least, she stole a glance past him at the rest of the world. Mason wasn’t appearing on any white horse to get her out of this conversation but Perry had popped her head out of the shop. She watched from a distance but apparently wouldn’t approach with an official here. It at least gave Avery some opening.

             
“I think my biscuits are burning, sir. If you don’t mind.” If she could get out of this conversation, she could consult Mason and get a real feel on what was up. He wouldn’t let them do this. He hadn’t let them yet.

             
“Of course.” Stern managed to stiffen his already rigid posture. “As long as I have your word that you will work with me.”

             
“I’ll try,” she gave him.

             
“And just one more question, Ms. Zane. In all seriousness.”

             
Attention completely fixated on the harpie again, she waited until he spoke. When he did he said, “I don’t understand you. I do not like that fact.”

             
“I’m sorry?” She didn’t know what to say to that. And Stern continued to stare her down, now his eyes clearly calculating.

             
“I barely know who you are. You’ve encountered our kind for years now, but I hardly understand you still. You carry some type of magic that no one can figure out or stop. And you’re motivations. Your actions...”

             
The air going stale, Avery struggled to find a good gulp of air. The subconscious of her mind knew exactly what he was thinking over. The death of Mikhail. The death of Samuel. What Avery had to do with it. For the most part, she’d never spoken to other harpies outside of Mason and he was the only one who’d truly understood her background.