Grounded

by Constance Sharper

  “Don’t take it like that Avery, I’m not planning to dump you off.” Mason tried to defend himself but she didn’t buy it.

  “Shut up, Mason. You knew this and you still did everything to mislead me! Err...” Avery growled and stormed toward the bed. He was about to find out about the cold shoulder from a teenage girl.

  Mason let out a deep, practiced breath.

  “This is not a good time to fight.” He nearly lectured but she cut him off.

  “Fine. It’s not a fight. It’s over. Now all we have to worry about is getting out of here alive and going our separate ways.” She snapped.

  He stayed quiet for a long moment. Avery refused to glance back and see how hard her comment had landed. After a moment, she heard his quiet voice speak up one last time.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  She didn’t respond. She was too afraid her voice would break. After nearly an hour of silence, she fell asleep. Avery dreamed of fire.

  Seventeen

  Avery brushed the beads of sweat off her forehead before letting out another groan. Her day hadn’t been treating her well. Since the morning, she’d been trying to teach up Mason how to use the magic. She knew that just because they were fighting, the danger of Mikhail’s rampage didn’t take a back seat. They both needed to be alive to bicker with each other and that meant they had to train. The morning had slipped away. Half way into the afternoon, the sun beating down in Samuel’s courtyard was giving way to the shadows of looming night. That left the area hot and humid with mosquitoes, and left their patience wearing thin.

  She watched Mason pace around the courtyard’s trampled grass. He’d lost the shirt to reveal the magical tattoo-like mark on his right arm. It’d coiled up to his shoulder but wasn’t very active. Avery had once seen the progression of the Willow magic tattoo on herself. The darker and longer it appeared meant the magic had expanded and seeped in deeper. Mason’s tattoo wasn’t very dark or very long, and the progression was slow.

  “Are you okay?” She asked him reluctantly. Mixed feelings still lingered. She couldn’t stop liking Mason but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be pissed either. Dangerous combination. The interaction that ensued was stiff, awkward, and irritating.

  His mood was only as sour as hers but leave it to a harpie to blow the frustration out of proportion.

  “This is ridiculous! You’re teaching it wrong.” He growled.

  “I’m not. Maybe it’s just time you get your head out of your ass and use it.” She shot the snide comment without remorse.

  Mason kept a purposeful berth between them.

  “If you can do it, I should be able to do it better!” He pointed out blatantly. The frustration escalated rapidly. Mason added more fuel to the fire. “I’m certainly more qualified than a human who doesn’t understand anything about harpies but continues to act like she even has a clue.”

  “A human can understand enough. She can understand that harpies always think they’re right even when they aren’t. She can understand that they’re stubborn and irritating, and ignore what’s right in front of them.” She huffed.

  He glared, clearly upset. Mason suddenly moved, stepping closer until he towered right above her. Personal space abruptly gone, she stiffened but refused to back down. This close she could feel the heat radiate off him and the wiry magic of Willow curl into the air like a faint electrical current. He leaned down until their faces remained just an inch away.

  “What is right in front of me, Avery?” He asked quietly, his breath close enough to tickle her cheeks.

  Avery only grew more annoyed until her fists clenched and stomach knotted. Refusing to give in to the tears of frustration, she kept the charade up.

  “Your hand. Force the magic out of your finger tips first. Stop trying to make stuff explode. You’ve done enough of that already.”

  “Why not? Couldn’t imagine it could get any worse.” He grumbled but did as he was told and moved away from her.

  Fastening his hands around the nearest tree branch, he focused in on the bark. Avery could have shattered the wood with that much concentration but Mason had no luck. She opened her mouth, ready to offer another suggestion but never got the chance. Someone beat her to it.

  “Just give it up. It’s like watching a baby with a water gun.” The recognizable male voice rang out.

  Avery turned to find Patrick walking over the lawn. Mason went stiff behind her and Avery took the daring move to stand between them.

  “Why are you here?” She asked, transferring her bad mood onto Patrick.

  He gave her a mocking, blinding smile.

  “Just checking out how the cavalry’s workin’ it up.” Patrick said, his eyes crawling over the scene.

  “You mean you’ve come to be target practice.” Mason hissed.

  Patrick had come outside in baggy slacks and a grey undershirt ripped for his harpie wings. Though he didn’t seem like he was ready for a battle, a long knife had been stashed in the back of his belt. His eyes kept steady on Mason.

  Determined to control the situation, Avery spoke up.

  “We’re supposed to be getting along. Not fighting. Not now.” The plea was a simple but firm reminder of the situation.

  “I’m just trying to help.” Patrick crooned. “And it’s not just producing the magic that you’re dealing with. It’s learning how to fight with it. And the best way to learn is to practice. It’s a friendly challenge.” Patrick said but it didn’t sound that friendly.

  “Fine. Bring it.” Mason stepped forward but Avery pressed an open hand to his hard chest keeping him in the spot.

  “How about a friendly wager, a prize for the winner?” Patrick quirked an ugly, crooked smile.

  The mood in the courtyard changed rapidly and the tension made the air grow thick. Avery did her best to stay between them but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something drew Avery’s eyes back toward the building. Adalyn had posted herself up against the second story balcony’s railing. Wings half open and long legs stretched out behind her, she leaned against the bar and stared down at them with her red lips pouted. Great, Avery thought when she noticed the girl. They couldn’t add more fuel to the fire.

  “What’s the wager?” Mason quizzed, drawing Avery’s attention back to the courtyard. Mason had sidestepped her at some point until the two male harpies stood a foot apart. Mason had a few inches on Patrick but he was also thinner and less muscular.

  “If I win,” Patrick started out, the irking smile on his face growing wider. “Then I get to take Avery on a date. A real date.”

  The next moment happened in a flurry of motion. Even though Mason jerked backwards, Avery protested first.

  “No way. I’m not a prize. I’m a person. And no way!” Her exclaimer was a bumbling streak of slurred words and her face burned hot.

  “Like I could trust you anywhere near Avery.” Mason said.

  Patrick rolled his brown eyes in an over exaggerated gesture and held his hands up innocently.

  “It’s not like I’d be taking her into a dark alley. And plus, Adalyn told me to leave her alone so I have no reason to kill her anymore. And you can deal with the safety precautions later, after I win of course.”

  Mason let out a deep growl in his throat.

  “You won’t win.” Mason insisted.

  Patrick took another step forward.

  “Then name your price,” Patrick said, “and let us settle the wager.”

  Mason’s green eyes went foggy for a moment and he turned his attention into space. Several emotions weighed on Avery during the wait for him to speak but she couldn’t reconcile them. Avery usually didn’t doubt Mason’s fighting ability. He’d fought the Band before and succeeded under fiery conditions. But the fact that he’d wager Avery didn’t go over well with her. The mix of emotions only got worse from there. Mason answered.

  “Okay, if I win... if I win then you have to stay away from Adalyn.”

  Avery double-took, unsure she
’d heard it right. While Avery’s face washed out white, Patrick’s face lit up with excitement. Bringing two long fingers up into the air, he gestured the “come on” motion. Mason obliged. He charged in a quick flurry of movement. On the offensive, Mason succeeded in landing the first blow-- a sharp popping jab on Patrick’s jaw. The wounded harpie recovered and fixed his stance. Straightening up, he launched himself at Mason.

  Wings open, the two met with another crippling blow. The explosion of motion and roaring noise sent Avery to the opposite side of the courtyard. Reaching the corner and pressing herself up against the wall, she watched the chaos of swinging strikes and tearing of talons.

  Feathers went spiraling but the fight stayed mercifully grounded. The grapple took them to the floor, Patrick going down on top. His weight was superior but Mason’s fury clearly kept him moving. Lashing out, he beat on Patrick. The jabs couldn’t catch enough momentum to do real damage and that allowed Patrick to keep the upper hand.

  “The magic.” Avery yelled before her throat could close up.

  The fight wasn’t looking like a harmless struggle anymore. Mason already had open and bleeding gashes over his knuckles and his forehead. The sticky crimson had caked his face and grew worse by the minute. Patrick’s wounds were unclear and though he held the right side of his body up at an awkward angle, it didn’t slow the attack down. With Mason pinned down, he slammed elbows downward. The half grip Mason held on the harpie would slip soon and if it did, Patrick could land a lethal blow.

  Luckily Mason finally reacted. He latched onto Patrick’s shoulders. The magic surfaced as a blue cackling shot of electricity. The magic had an immediate effect. Patrick let out a gasp and wrenched backwards. His advantage broken, Mason was able to throw him off. They both tumbled apart and rolled to their feet. Mason’s hands were out and his palms were open. Avery knew the stance. He’d figured it out. She let out a breath of relief. He could do this.

  Patrick stood with a berth between them and swatted the blood off of his cheek. The magic had clearly given him a shock but he didn’t look ready to give up.

  Eyes alert and lips tilted upward, he readied himself to go again.

  Mason saw this too and when Patrick charged, he was ready. Patrick attempted a sideswipe but Mason dodged. He kicked at Patrick’s back and made contact. Patrick stumbled forward into the oak tree. His talons dug into the bark, and when he whirled, he’d ripped off a large chunk of wood. He threw the wood hard except it missed Mason by three feet.

  Avery screamed, narrowly ducking in time to avoid the wayward branch. The wood went skirting over her head and cracked on the compound’s wall. Her heart had jumped to her chest but she was otherwise unharmed. Glancing up, she sought out the battle again only to find that Mason’s eyes had connected with hers. Her scream had earned his full attention—too much attention. That single moment of hesitation sent the situation into a downward spiral. Patrick came at Mason from behind. By the time his presence was apparent, it was already too late.

  Patrick threw Mason to the ground, digging his nail into the portion of back between Mason’s wings. Mason’s face hit the dirt and he was immobilized. The second happened so fast, no one reacted for a moment.

  “Looks like I won.” Patrick finally yelled, triumphant. His hands still lingered above Mason’s neck, an unspoken gesture that he could kill Mason with one blow. Patrick had stopped but in the real world, Mason would be dead.

  The realization was stunning and Avery’s blood ran cold. Only after a full minute when Mason had stood and dusted himself off did the other implications ever sink in. Her hazel eyes flickered up to Patrick only to find the harpie staring back her way. His eyes glinted with clear amusement. Avery’s stomach did a flip and suddenly feeling ill, Avery backed towards the door. Mason had lost. That meant Avery was the prize end of the divvy.

  “No way.” She shook her head immediately. “Not happening.”

  “Sorry girlie. That was the deal. Next time don’t underestimate my determination.”

  “Not fair! Mason was distracted. That’s the only reason you had the drop on him!” Avery’s voice spiked and her panic rose—mostly because she knew Patrick was probably right.

  The harpie boy continued on.

  “Not my fault. That’s the way the real world works. And look, I might have saved him. He won’t do that when he’s in a real fight now.” Patrick had lurched up a few steps until he stood close to Avery.

  “You tried to kill me once! This is an excuse to try it again.”

  “Oh boo hoo. I told you once I liked you.” Patrick said but even Avery knew that meant he only lusted over her. “And I didn’t want to hurt you either but I was doing a favor for Adalyn. Things changed. So not doing it anymore.”

  The mention of the harpie woman’s name sent Avery’s attention back to the balcony where Adalyn had been perched. She was gone.

  Avery let out a pent up breath. She could keep arguing but she didn’t see it going anywhere. She certainly wasn’t accompanying Patrick on the date tonight. He was covered in dirt and caked in blood.

  Reluctantly holding in anymore protests, she nodded vaguely. “Fine, go.” She said and shooed him off with a flick of her wrist. Patrick blew a kiss into the air

  and shot her one last smirk.

  That left only Mason and Avery in the courtyard. Mason had since stood and straightened out his feathers. But his green eyes wouldn’t immediately meet hers. Avery wasn’t sure she wanted him to either. Looking at him now, all Avery could do was remember what he’d said about Adalyn. The hint of fuming anger rising in her stomach, she clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.

  She couldn’t bring herself to say a word to him. So she didn’t. Avery turned and walked inside, leaving the courtyard in stiff silence.

  Eighteen

  Avery walked forward blindly. She only wanted to put as much distance between herself and Mason as possible. She’d passed their room and weaved though the floral decorated hall. She stopped at the last room and rattled the doorknob to open the door. Inside the overhead lights were off and the majority of the room was cast into shadows, but Avery recognized it.

  She’d arrived at the library in which they’d been before, back when they’d found Jericho’s journal missing. Her eyes slid over the cushy red chairs, and she’d decided to stay in the silent room just when her phone ring jingled.

  Wrenching her phone out of her pocket, she checked the number on the front blue screen. Avery recognized the blocky digits instantly, but unsure of what to expect, she took a moment to answer.

  “Yea- yes? Nate?” She cleared her throat and wiped at her burning eyes when she pressed the warm metal device to her ear.

  “Avery?” Nate’s voice answered but the tone was indiscernible.

  “What’s up?” She quizzed immediately. “Is everything okay?”

  She had left the boy with a seemingly impossible task, but she didn’t expect it to go wrong so quickly. Pulse quickening, she anxiously waited for Nate’s reply.

  “So I got Leela out of the house. Out of the school. And I definitely got her on the plane.” He said but his voice still wasn’t reassuring.

  Avery twisted the phone in her hands and urged him on.

  “So is everything good?”

  “She’s heading to Portland.” Nate said shortly and Avery hissed.

  “Portland? As in Portland Oregon? As in the one Portland I told you not to go to?” She asked but didn’t want to believe it.

  Nate confirmed the fears in the same frustrated, hopeless voice.

  “Hey, this isn’t my fault. She found out where you were and jumped on a plane to go there! How was I supposed to even see that coming?” He blurted. “She left overnight and she could be anywhere by now. It was you, Avery, who told me Leela wouldn’t get hurt in all this!”

  The seething panic on his side was clear but Avery certainly couldn’t reassure him. Pacing over the tan carpet, she shook her head.

  “Portland’
s a big city. I don’t think she could show up on my doorstep.” Avery rationalized aloud but that train of thought didn’t help either. At least if Leela was here, they could protect her. Out there, she could run across Mikhail and be killed.

  Avery cursed her luck and blurted a shaky goodbye to Nate. Talking would do no good now, Avery decided. She needed help. Her eyes shot up to find the nearest exit. There was a door on the opposite side of the room, next to the only lamp that illuminated with a yellow glow. Avery stuffed the phone into her pocket and hurried for the exit. Just as she passed the lamp, something caught her attention. In the reclining chair rested Samuel. His knuckle propped up his chin but his eyes were closed and his chest rose with slow, rhythmic breaths.

  “Samuel,” She called him, suddenly desperate for the wise old harpie’s help.

  He didn’t stir at first so Avery crossed the room, up to his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Samuel suddenly snapped to life. Launching forward, he wielded a rusty blade. Avery dodged backwards, slamming into the coffee table and sprawling toward the ground in an explosion of movement. Samuel stopped after Avery fell. The knife in his hand lingered and his hazel eyes stared downward. Abruptly, he dropped the blade and fell back into his seat. Raking his trembling hands through his hair, he shook his head in an erratic motion.

  “I’m sorry child.” He cried, “I’m sorry.”

  Avery, struggling to regain her composure and get her heart out of her stomach, propped herself up.

  “Are you okay?” She asked.

  Avery had known she startled him but the violent outburst wasn’t warranted. The old harpie seemed disturbed by it too. He took a few long minutes to regain control of himself. Hazel eyes drilled into the floor, the lines on his face suddenly seemed all too apparent. Cheeks hollow and shadows under his eyes heavy, he let out a gasping whine.