Windswept (The Airborne Saga)

by Constance Sharper

  The oxygen seemed to leave the room. Avery felt dizzy now and fanned at her throat. She didn’t look for Mason’s reaction because the doctor continued.

  “In that situation, you would need to seek medical help. You will need to be resuscitated. What doctors can really do otherwise is close to naught. Considering the time from the start of the decline to the finish is a few days at most, consideration and preparation is necessary.”

  “Brilliant,” Avery said without even thinking. Her hands sought out the desk beside her and she dropped onto it. Her knees were feeling weak now.

  This time Avery did look for Mason’s reaction but knew he managed to put on a mask of steel.

  “Okay. And until we feel such symptoms, we should be in relatively no danger?”

  “That is correct.” The doctor nodded.

  “Wait, wait,” Avery interjected quickly. “Are you legitimately telling us the only thing we’re going to do is die? Why would we accept that?”

  The doctor gave her such a cold look, it seemed he might edge up doom’s date.

  “I was brought here for my honesty after all.”

  “I’m still surprised you would be so blunt about the Prince. Maybe the one person in the world you’re charged for keeping alive!” Avery didn’t know what possessed her to drop that card but she knew the sudden anger came from fear. Mason’s hand suddenly reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

  “He’s right, Avery. We need to know what we’re dealing with. Lying won’t help us deal with anything.” His tone walked a careful balance between comforting and deathly serious. “He just said that right now we are fine. And right now we have time to deal with this. So we will.”

  “Okay, then where are we starting with that exactly?” They had already tried everything. They’d been looking researching everything for a long time.

  “Please excuse us,” Mason asked of the doctor. The old harpie didn’t give him the death glare but picked up his brown briefcase and shuffled for the door.

  The room grew quiet again and Avery didn’t budge. Extremely engrossed in the beige rug and iron feet of the desk, she focused on anything but Mason.

  “I’m sorry, Avery,” Mason said. “I know you didn’t need to hear it quite so bluntly. But you are the first, you have it the worst, so you needed to know the most.”

  “That’s okay,” She said, but it wasn’t. She was in desperate need of some reassurance, but Mason stood so far away. He seemed uncomfortable.

  “Mason, we’ll deal. We always have.”

  “It’s not like it used to be Avery. Can’t you see that?”

  She let out a breath. They’d had death sentences before. But watching Mason give into it now, she felt more hopeless than before.

  “I have so many things to deal with already. This is just…” He stopped himself.

  “Is this about the articles? The news?”

  Her question finally made something in Mason’s eyes soften, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

  “No. The press will do what it likes. I have a speech tomorrow to give in front of my entire kingdom. I have a lover who might die at anytime because of a magic I don’t know how to fix. And I have the council badgering me about my rule every step of the way—but I can’t even get help because I can’t tell them any part of our problems.” He let out a breath, but tension still kept his body stiff.

  “You’re obviously freaking out. Just calm down. Come with me, we can spend the day together and you’ll forget about it.”

  “Forget about it? My speech is tomorrow afternoon, Avery. You don’t understand anything about court. Just go back to your room. I’ll speak with you later.”

  He didn’t give her an opportunity to protest or even feel the hurt that followed. Mason left the room, a cloud of anxiety and anger in his wake.

  Seventeen

  “Avery calm down! Please breathe!” Leela’s voice pleaded on the other line. “I don’t understand what’s going on and you’re talking way too fast.”

  Avery obeyed only long enough to take a single breath and readjust the phone against her ear. She paced the confines of her room until the rug had been beaten in with a distinctive circle. Still night, the room stewed in darkness and shadows with only the barest moonlight slipping in through the blinds.

  “I’m sorry,” Avery virtually whined. She wiped under her eyes but found nothing except a thin layer of sweat. “Did you at least understand the part about the royal ball?”

  She’d given the girl a fairly quick rehash of months in court life during a panicked predawn call. Avery couldn’t sleep and every minute in the bed made her more anxious. She’d finally thrown the twisted covers off her and dialed her friend in a frenzy. Leela answered on the first ring but sleep still ridden in her voice, Leela clearly hadn’t been keeping up.

  “Yeah, I got that. And you say everyone’s being bitches and spreading rumors. Avery, have you ever watched any television shows from the fifteen-hundreds? It was like that then too.”

  “Well, I’m sorry Leela. I’m no fan of being singled out here. I can’t win. No one likes me. Just last night I couldn’t get dinner at the café I always go to because the owner was afraid that I might bring his business a bad impression.” She swatted at her cheeks again. This time the moisture was more prominent.

  “Okay, breathe… You can’t take this personally, just like Leon said. They’re all trying to push their unwed daughters on Mason so it wouldn’t matter who you were, just that you are in their way. So they can’t like you.” Leela went to logic immediately.

  “Yeah, just what I need on top of everyone looking at me like I grew another head. Oh and avoiding me like I have the plague. So used to humans now, everyone says, but only half the world acts like it.” Old ways versus new ways. Avery was done entertaining the thought.

  Some shifting on the other line indicated that Leela had gotten up from bed and repositioned somewhere else. Her voice perked up. “Again, nothing personal, Avery. I don’t think that’s what’s really bothering you. You can take gossip, always been better at it than me. So it’s Mason. What’s he doing?”

  Avery bit her lip until it turned white. Both a smile and a frown pulled at her face. Leela knew her too well and it was actually painful.

  “Nothing is wrong with Mason. I mean not really. I just never see him as often anymore. And when I do, I feel like we can’t even openly talk to each other. He gets upset when I’m involved with anything— from Adalyn to the magic. He says he’s trying to protect me but I feel like I’m just being kept out. And he’s so stressed out. He nearly snapped at me yesterday.”

  Avery didn’t feel like delving into the details. A bitter feeling still sat with her even though Mason’s coldness hadn’t necessarily been targeted at her.

  “I don’t know what in particular, but if he’s trying to protect you, then maybe he’s just seeing things you don’t see. Seeing reasons, good reasons, to keep you out of it.”

  “Yeah, he certainly thinks so,” Avery whined again. She just needed one person to take her side. One person to legitimize her as not being crazy. Or maybe she just wanted to do what she wanted to do and not feel guilty about it. A noise outside stole her attention and Avery lowered the phone. A dark feeling seizing her, she whispered a hasty goodbye to Leela before dropping the phone on the bed.

  The noise had been distinct, close by, and certainly no coincidence. After staying up all night, she’d become accustomed to the sounds of this hall and no one truly walked by this room. Avery sucked in a breath and forced her feet to move. She pressed her ear close to the wood and grasped the cold knob.

  Avery heard the noise again, but this time it was more distinct. It was crying. She cracked open the door without another thought. The harpie rushed in so quickly that Avery sprung backwards. The door slammed shut behind them and sealed the room.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Evelyn had collapsed against the floor. Hair messed up beyond recognition and makeup smeared
into black circles, Avery didn’t even recognize her for a moment.

  “I’m so sorry.” She kept repeating the phrase in a hoarse voice.

  “What’s going on?” Avery finally snapped out of the shock and joined the woman on the floor. She couldn’t say her nerves had lessened any to see the woman in her room. As far as she’d known, Evelyn had quit talking to her. What spurred the sudden reappearance scared Avery. She tried to remember what they spoke about last, what Evelyn was going on about, but her brain didn’t work and the woman kept sobbing.

  “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t stop myself and then your guard was gone, so I came,” Evelyn whispered.

  Avery glanced towards the door. Leon had been missing. Probably better things to do this close to Mason’s speech, but that didn’t make her happy. Avery took a moment to ready herself.

  “Okay, then tell me. Why? Why not?” Avery urged.

  “Last time I saw you, you asked me if I knew anything about Adalyn.” With Avery’s nodding, Evelyn continued even more slowly. “I’ve heard of Adalyn. But I know of Patrick Smith.”

  Avery let out a long breath. The room was quiet just as outside her window was silence, an odd union of anticipation among everyone on the island. It made Avery take a quick moment to size up the room again. The hallway had been empty, but the air vents still blew loudly and open. Unsure of the acoustics, Avery joined her in whispers.

  “What of him?”

  “They know where he is. Did you know that?” Evelyn asked.

  Avery took a moment to absorb the words this time. Evelyn’s dreary face told a bigger story than she was speaking.

  “They have files on him. In their office. They kept an eye on him. Tabs on him because he’s not a normal assassin. He’s the best of the best. He can get past any security. He can go anywhere.”

  “Why would he want to? Even if he could get to me, why would he want to?” Avery demanded louder than she should have. Her words returned to her off the corners and the walls. She shut her mouth with a snap.

  “I don’t know. If you must know, find out for yourself,” Evelyn added the last part a bit bitterly. “Their files are just on the other side of the hall.”

  Avery’s breath hitched in her chest. The room felt dangerously hot and for all of the vent’s blowing, it felt like no air passed through. Avery remained on her haunches while her mind knew exactly what the woman meant. She’d been in the police station before, almost a year ago when she was trying to evade the guard herself. And she knew exactly how to sneak in, but it was foolish the first time and would be even more dangerous the next.

  “You’re insane.”

  “You wanted to know. I told you. And I’ve endangered my life to do it. Tell me now. Do you know him? Patrick. The murderer of great men.”

  Avery pictured Patrick as she’d seen him last. The harpie of a stockier build but equally tall and powerful. While he could visibly be a force to reckon with, he’d never worn anything but a cocky smile. That was until she’d seen him in the forest. He’d seized Adalyn with the command of general. It didn’t seem like the Patrick she had known. But she hadn’t really known him. Avery pictured him instead from the stories, from his picture on the most wanted flyers, and in the clearing where he stole Adalyn away. She thought of all the Alaskans he’d murdered while chasing Adalyn down and approaching Avery. She didn’t have to picture him now, the feeling in the pit of her stomach was enough to know that was the real Patrick.

  “Yeah. We’ve met before.”

  Evelyn’s hand went up swiftly, a single finger pointed toward the west.

  “I’ll give you your opening. This is your only shot.”

  The harpie woman stood and swiftly exited, leaving Avery scrambling to follow. She dropped the robe and threw on jeans. Tying her hair back in a knot, she slid on shoes, and then hurried out into the hall. Avery slid to a stop the second she reached the grand hall. It was empty. The lights hadn’t remained on bright enough to eclipse the entire room. There were supposed to be guards. Where had they gone?

  She heard Evelyn cry out from another floor. Footsteps rushed in that direction and it became clear that this distraction was Avery’s cover.

  The capitol building was a virtual maze with the same white walls and tiled ceilings. The doors were never adorned with any numbers or lettering. The fact that her feet led her back to that room was not just a miracle but a testament to her memory. After checking that the visual area was clear, she pressed her ear up against the door. Upon hearing nothing, she twisted the knob and peeked inside. Miraculously it seemed the place remained empty. She stepped inside and did an entire checkup on the interior. Her lead stomach dropped another inch, but it took a few moments for her to realize why. She’d snuck into a place she’d been before—Samuel’s old office and study. It’d been almost a year that passed and at least three months since Samuel had died in Portland. The room had once been vast and extravagant. Bookshelves lined the wall, maps and rustic antiques fit everywhere else. His beautiful wooden desk had once been stacked with papers. With life.

  It didn’t strike her immediately what had changed besides the thick layer of dust that sat on top of everything. But upon closer inspection, she could see the phantom shadows where things that had once sat so long as to indent the world around it had been taken away. The desk had been completely removed and with it, all recent signs of life.

  “Stop it, Avery,” she warned herself in a whisper. Now was not the time to be sentimental about a man she barely knew, even if that man had saved her life two times. Shuffling over, she found the vent in the corner. The metal grate had never been fixed from before and sat askew on its hinges. If anyone had noticed it, they had not been concerned with fixing it.

  It came loose with a gentle tug and she set it aside. Slipping inside the vent was more difficult than before, but once her last limb was in, she hurried. Shuffling, she continued through the cold and loud vent.

  Avery reached her destination after a few agonizing and rough moments. The memory came to her before she peered outside the nearest open vent. This was once Eva’s interrogation room. But more importantly, this was also the harpie version of the police station. Or at least where they’d keep their files.

  Avery’s plan rapidly started to fall apart at that moment. She’d be able to squeeze out of the next vent over, but that didn’t stop her from running into anyone while she was actually in the station. She didn’t have any idea where the files were either. The wind roared in the vents too loudly for her to even clearly hear people nearby.

  Squinting, she looked out towards the light. The room was practically invisible, but no shadows underneath moved in the fluorescents. Before she lost her nerve, she worked on the vent. It gave with some effort and she sucked in a breath. Contracting her body as much as she could, she stuck her head out.

  “Jerry!” A voice shouted and made her freeze. Muscles tense and heart thundering, she rushed to locate the noise. The small room was empty. The voice shouted again, from behind one of the doors. “We need reinforcements out front. The bloody press is getting worse!”

  Doors slammed and there was silence. Once Avery remembered how to breathe again, she pushed herself out of the vent. She immediately appreciated the new space for her limbs to stretch out but didn’t hesitate. Systematically scanning the room, she found it empty of anything that could constitute a file. But it had to be nearby. There were two doors. Picking the one farthest from the voices, she listened, and then slipped inside.

  By a stroke of luck, this one seemed better off. Cabinets lined the corners. A desk sat in the middle stacked with manila folders and the whole place reeked of coffee and mold. She headed for the desk first. If Patrick would be of concern, his files should be at the top of the desk. She pushed the papers apart, not caring to cover her tracks. The papers fluttered to the floor. They had scrawled handwriting. Maps. Signatures and indistinct symbols.

  A full minute and nothing came through. She d
ropped her fists in frustration. The folders on the desk collapsed. Finally something caught her eye. But it wasn’t Patrick’s name.

  “Eva.” Avery slid the file out and smoothed it open.

  Her picture was fixated to the side, but covered with yellow sticky notes and spilled ink. She finally saw the top sheet affixed to the right of the folder. It depicted a map and the description ‘Suspect located. Unable to apprehend at this time.’

  “They found her.” Avery gasped. The map was the coast of California. Though it wasn’t labeled with any human cities, she knew its location instantly. San Diego. The sound of rustling outside the building made her shut her file. She shifted her attention to the cabinets. Finding them in alphabetical order, she shifted quickly to the Smith. Patrick’s name wasn’t hidden. A wave of exhilaration coming over her, she pulled it free. That’s when the voice called her out.