by Bree Moore
Harper picked up a pocket of warm air and glided, wings spread, relishing the wind as it tickled through her feathers, and she realized that she didn’t feel blood on her back. Nothing hurt, and she was as near to heaven as she could get.
How high could Violet’s wards go? She squinted toward the sun. As she turned her head away, a faint glimmer of green overhead caught her eyes. It was similar to the warded barriers around the dueling circles. A bubble. How did the witch maintain so many wards? The coven probably had something to do with it, but Harper wouldn’t be surprised if the witch sucked magic from the residents of her Happy House.
Harper’s ears picked up the sound of someone yelling. Zeke waved his arms, gesturing for her to come down. She lifted her face to the sky one last time, feeling the rushing air and the warmth of the sun on her face. Then she dove.
She pulled up at the last second, eliciting a few shrieks from people in the surrounding dueling rings, and landed on her feet in front of Zeke. She folded her wings in, but stayed shifted. She was done with this game.
Zeke’s expression twisted with fury. “What was that?” He stepped up close, getting into her face. Her wings flared out, an instinctive response, and those watching gasped.
“He was straddling me. I think that’s called sexual harassment. Is that a thing here?” Harper folded her arms against her chest, heart pounding with adrenaline.
Zeke took a long sniff, then huffed it out, moving his mouth like he’d tasted something gross. “The duels are meant to train you—”
“I don’t give a damn about this training!” Harper yelled, her hands dropping to her sides and forming fists. “I have no future here, werewolf. If I choose Naturalization, my wings get chopped off. What do they do to you? Do they remove your heightened sense of smell? Do they lock you in your mutt form for life and sell you as a pet? No? Then I don’t want to hear this Naturalization crap from you!”
She took off at a run, flapping her wings until she was airborne again. Zeke hollered after her, but she ignored him, pushing until she felt the burn in her wings. She focused on putting as much distance between herself and that field of imbeciles as she could, ignoring the clench in her stomach that told her it was time to eat. She landed on the top of a tall pine, too far to even see the cabin any more. There was nothing but blue skies and pines. For a moment, Harper just breathed.
A glimmer of blue caught Harper’s eye. A blue jay in blue jeans. She wasn’t the only one cutting class, apparently. Fletcher was supposed to be a role model for Naturalization, with his deadline coming up. So what was he doing out here?
Chapter Twelve
Harper
Harper spread her wings, her movement making the tree dip beneath her. Thrusting into the air, she flapped hard to draw upward. Fletcher must have heard her panting as she caught up, because he turned his head. A friendly grin spread wide across his face as he slowed down, letting Harper fly alongside him.
“Harper! I didn’t expect to meet you up here. I mean, I hoped I might, but…” He ducked his head as if embarrassed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Harper suddenly felt uncomfortable. All she could think about were those gorgeous blue wings. She pushed the thoughts away. “Aren’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have anything until this afternoon. It’s my free period right now.”
“Do you always spend it flying?” Harper squinted at him. The brightness of the sun glinting off his feathers made it hard to see.
“Usually.” He glanced at her. “How are classes going?”
The anger Harper felt before surged up to the surface. She clenched her fists and her wings flapped hard, pushing her forward. Fletcher adjusted his pace to keep up.
“Hey, you’re upset. Is it Zeke?”
“How did you know?” The hard, sarcastic edge of Harper’s tone blocked the emotion in her chest.
“Yeah, Zeke can be tough. He’s the kind of person who cares enough to be hard.”
“It’s not like it’s all him. He’s part of it, but…” Harper trailed off, at a loss for words.
“Not everything,” Fletcher guessed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The wind rushed into her face. The ground was covered with trees, but the cabin was in sight and they would be there in moments. She shook her head in response to Fletcher, then ran a hand through her short hair. Time for another shower. It was amazing how just a few days in a place with free access to warm, running water made her want to be clean all the time. Before, she could go a week or more without showering.
“I can respect that you don’t want to talk, but I think it will make you feel better. How about if I guess what you’re so hung up about, we’ll talk? If not, we’ll keep flying.” Fletcher watched her with those icy blue eyes.
Harper avoided looking at him. “Shoot,” she said, as if she were entirely disinterested. “You only get one shot, though.”
Fletcher paused, thinking. His eyes lingered on her. She kept her head down, determined not to let him see her smile. Why did this feel like a game? He was prying into her emotions, her deepest thoughts. With Tyson, it felt like an intrusion. Somehow, with Fletcher, it felt like the kind of attention she’d craved her whole life.
Silence stretched out. Zeke’s distant howl marked the beginning of another dueling round. The arenas and their duelists were visible now, each one fighting for survival in more ways than one.
When he finally spoke, his words took Harper completely off-guard.
“You’re afraid. The more you participate in these classes, the more you get to know the residents of the camp, the more you fear that you’ll break down and succumb to the lure of living a normal, un-persecuted life as a Naturalized citizen.”
Harper looked up slowly, her eyes connecting with Fletcher’s clear blue gaze.
“It is tempting, isn’t it? As unappealing and unacceptable as the price to pay is, some part of you longs for the day when you can stop running, stop hiding, and just be you.”
“But I can’t be me without…” Harper gestured to her soaring wings and the sky above.
Fletcher nodded, as if he understood. But he didn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t agree to have his wings chopped off.
“I used to think the same way. And then I realized that if I was in a freak accident and lost my legs, or an arm, or something like that, I would still be me. It just changes my appearance, but not the core of who I am.”
“How do you know? You’ve never experienced it. What if you come back from that operation and you’re not you?”
Fletcher cocked his head to one side. “I guess I’ve come to a place where I don’t believe that would happen. I’ve accepted the outcome will be whatever it will be. I have family who have been through it too, which helps. You don’t have that though, do you?”
“No.” Harper thought about Quinn. He would never support Naturalization. Never. They were going to find their parents and a secret place to live out the rest of their lives. Maybe in another country.
When Harper didn’t reply, Fletcher cleared his throat. “I could be that for you.”
“What?”
“I mean, I could write to you. Support you in your journey, you know? Once I go through it, I’ll leave camp soon after, but I could get permission to call. To visit, even. My family doesn’t live far. It might help just to have someone who understands completely the decision that you’re facing.”
Harper licked her lips. He didn’t know that she wasn’t even considering Naturalization. Would he be so friendly if he did? “You don’t know me.”
“I’ve wrestled with similar thoughts and feelings. A year ago I was right where you are, thinking there was no way I could do it. I wouldn’t have made it without my parents and my sister being there for me.”
They flew in silence. Fletcher dropped down and glided in a lazy circle. Harper watched him, her wings relaxing into a steady rhythm.
The d
ueling round ended as they landed on the ground. Groans and cheers echoed across the field. The others left the arenas, some of them turning human and others staying in their shifter forms. Beckett bounded across the field as a three-legged wolf, tongue lolling out. He looked ridiculously happy, more like a dog than a wolf.
“I’ve got a class now, but I’d like to join you for dinner. Would that be okay?” He grinned.
Had he asked Harper out on the paranormal camp-resident version of a date? She followed him out of the circle and off the field. In five minutes of conversation, this guy had drilled into the core of her feelings, even got her to talk about them. Harper found that she did want to spend more time with him.
“I’d like that.”
“Cool. See you later.” He waved and jogged off, wings disappearing into his back as he headed toward the forest. What class did he have there?
Harper went into the cabin, wings still out, where she got a lot of looks. Her wings were jet-black and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to stare at them? The thought filled her with pride, and she gripped the edge of one wing, running her fingers through the feathers as she let the crowd carry her toward the smell of food.
She found an empty seat at the kitchen island and sat down on the high bar stool. Ian stirred some colorful vegetable dish that smelled amazing. Harper was tempted to eat it, but she knew her stomach would rebel later. It didn’t do well with that much fiber, she had learned. Another stir-fry sizzled in a giant wok beside it. Beef? It smelled different. Maybe venison. Beckett grinned at Harper’s side, waiting in line for his food.
“Hungry?” He asked.
Harper opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off when someone bumped her wings, nearly throwing her off balance. The guy grumbled an apology, but Harper caught the finger he gave her behind his back as he walked away. Beckett growled at them under his breath.
“I see you’re as talkative, as ever.” Beckett’s expression and tone were good-natured. Harper calmed her nerves and tried a smile. He picked up a bowl.
Anita, on lunch duty today, handed Harper a steaming bowl of meat stir-fry with rice sprinkled on top. Harper’s mouth watered. She had to wait for a fork, but as soon as the utensil was in her hand she dug in, chewing past the heat to get something in her stomach. Beckett took the seat next to Harper, handing her a glass of water as she panted. She chugged the cool liquid with relief.
“Famished, apparently.” He smiled again.
Harper took a few more bites, slowing down as her stomach felt less pinchy. “Why do they feed us so well?” she blurted out.
Beckett raised his eyebrows. “Not what you expected?”
“Nuh-uh.” Harper said, chewing the savory meat.
“It’s because they’re afraid of us.” Ian’s quiet voice caught her attention amidst the chatter of the kitchen. He had finished serving up bowls of vegetables and rice to the hungry residents and had his own bowl now. He took a seat next to Becket on the end of the counter.
“What do you mean?” Harper asked, forgetting the next bite on her fork. A chunk of meat fell back into the bowl.
“What damage do you think a large group of half-starved paranormal teens and adults could do if they rebelled and broke out of camp?” Beckett asked. “Ian’s right. They’ve got to keep us fed, fat, and happy. Well, at least two of the three, I guess. I’m not sure the majority of us are thrilled with the regulations and limitations we have to put up with. You know, being tracked everywhere we go, warded against leaving, and then dealing with high-security surveillance and death as a punishment for any misstep once we pass Naturalization.” He shook his head. “If they didn’t feed us on top of all of that, well, I’d be the first to rip the throat out of whatever hunter they put in my way of getting out.”
His sudden blood-thirstiness shocked Harper. Her fork dropped back into her bowl.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said. “Wait, did you say we’re being tracked?” If there was anything worse than being here, it was the possibility that even if she managed to escape it would be for nothing when they caught her because of some tech she didn’t know about.
“It happens during the warding. You might not have noticed. Warding is already super uncomfortable. They implant a tracker under the skin in your back, usually. Some say it’s on your neck, close to your brain stem so you can’t remove it, but I’ve felt some of my friend’s in their shoulders.”
Harper reached her arm back as far as she could reach, rubbing the smooth skin of her back. “I don’t feel anything.”
“They could have put it somewhere different. Your wing placement might have made a normal implantation impossible,” Ian suggested.
Harper dropped her hand to her side, fingering the primary feathers on the lower edge of her wing, then she looked between the two of them. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Three years,” Beckett said.
“Nine months,” Ian followed.
Harper wanted to ask about Naturalization and how close they were to getting out, but it seemed rude. She bit her lip instead and bent her head back over her bowl.
After lunch, her schedule said to meet Lilith in the apothecary. She stood in front of the double doors, mouth dry, food sitting heavy in her stomach as she recalled what had happened the last time she was in this room.
Harper pushed on the door. It swung inward before she put much effort into it, and Lilith stood there, smiling her perfect white smile. She gestured for Harper to come in. Harper stepped through the doorway, keeping her wings tucked tight. The door closed.
“Your wings are beautiful.”
Harper shuffled her wings against her back. It was odd to receive a compliment after hiding them for so long. Something like pride flooded her chest. “Thank you.”
“How has your first day of classes been? Made any friends?” Lilith asked.
“Hard to make friends when you’re debating paranormal rights and dueling with your fellow students.”
Lilith noted something on a chart that sat on the table in front of her. “Yes, James—Mr. Petrov—tells me you have a way with words. And that your ideas are…progressive. Zeke wasn’t as thrilled with your performance.” Her eyes scanned across the page in front of her.
“What did he say?” Harper tried to peer over Lilith’s shoulder.
Lilith slid another paper over the chart with a swift motion. “It’s not important just now. We’re here to talk about something quite different.”
“Okay…we’re not going to talk about plants, are we?” Harper asked, thinking back to the word Remedies written on my schedule.
“No. We’re going to talk about this.” Lilith reached up to the shelf with the large record books Harper had noticed before. She didn’t catch the year before Lilith set it down on the table and flipped through to a certain page. She turned the book toward Harper, pointing at an entry.
“They were here.” Lilith stared at Harper, but Harper didn’t look up from the names in the book. The names of her parents.
Mick King. Sarah King.
Scrawled in the margins of the book with spidery writing were the words Raven born with a question mark afterward.
“Who wrote that?” Harper asked, pointing.
“Violet did. Fourteen years ago.”
Harper gripped the table with her hands, eyes locked onto the page. They were here.
“Fourteen years ago…that was before the Reveal. Before this was a camp.”
Lilith tucked her hair back on one side. “No, the camp was here. Violet ran a refuge for paranormals. It was illegal back then. She legalized it later when the Hunters came for those living here. What I’m wondering is why your parents were here.”
“You don’t know?”
“They were here for a single day, Harper, and weren’t exactly forthcoming. They kept to themselves, rested, ate, and flew on. They were headed north, that’s all I know. And this.” She tapped the page again, pointing at th
ose scrawled words. “Do you know anything about your heritage?”
Harper frowned. Her parents had disappeared when she was little. Quinn said they’d left on a trip, not meaning to be gone more than a week. They lived with a family friend during that time. When their parents didn’t return, they became wards of the state.
Harper coughed at the emotion that came up. “I couldn’t tell you anything about where they came from. I grew up in Oregon. It’s the only place I’ve ever known, and Quinn is my only family.”
Lilith’s eyebrows draw together in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that, Harper. It’s as I expected, however, and why it’s crucial that I speak with you. You are a rare species, and I mean that very respectfully.”
“What do you mean?”
Lilith closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. Harper had to withhold the urge to jump up and grab it from her hands, to open back to that page and see their names. Her parents. Harper had hated them, been angry with them, claimed she didn’t care if she saw them again, but she had always come back to wanting to make sure. Make sure they hadn’t left on purpose. Make sure they weren’t still alive somewhere. What if they were?
“Have you ever heard the lore of the Raven?” Harper’s blank look must have served as answer enough. “Raven was a sacred being to many Native American people. Mischievous, creative, trickster. Some believe he created men and women to spite the other gods. He grew fond of them and wanted to protect them. So he created other people. Your people.” Lilith paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.
“So, you think, because of my wings, that I’m related to a god?” Harper scoffed. “I don’t have any god-like powers, Lilith. I bleed like anyone, I could die like anyone.”
