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  I take a deep breath and enter the dark alleyway, but instead of finding the little girl, I find the guy from the other day, the one who stole from me. He leans against the brick wall, his raven hair messy against his pale skin, and his eyes are closed. I stand stock-still, just watching him breathe in and out, like he’s trying to focus deeply or push something away. His face is pained, but from here I can see the light brush of freckles across his nose, and the almost graceful way his lean body curves into the wall. I clear my throat finally to announce my presence. His eyes shoot open, but when he sees me, his lips turn upward into the slightest of smiles.

  “I knew you’d find me again, Red,” he drawls. I cross my arms in front of me and raise my eyebrows. What is it with this guy?

  “Because you just happened to lift hundreds of dollars of merchandise from me?” I reply. He chuckles lightly and runs a hand through his hair.

  “That, and other things,” he says. I exhale, letting go of the tension in my chest.

  “I take it you’ve squared it with Darcy?” I ask. His eyes flicker to me at the mention of her name.

  “How do you know Darcy?” he asks. I lean against the wall beside him, facing him, not too close, but close enough that he can’t just take off on me.

  “She’s my runner. Said you were her client, among other things,” I reply. To this he laughs loudly, and I don’t want to admit it, but his smile is infectious. Shelley’s words run through my head, Don’t get involved with another user.

  “Darcy, as it happens, is my sister, so don’t worry, things are square. I didn’t know that you were her seller, though,” he says. I raise an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

  “Well, you don’t really know me, do you?” I reply.

  “Not yet, anyway,” he says. I want to call him an arrogant bastard and go into the bar to meet Shells, but a part of me is actually enjoying his pompous banter. I never said I had good taste in men.

  “So what happens now, then?” I say. He moves closer to me until he’s right beside me, his body so close to me I can feel his breath on my neck and smell the rich musk of his cologne. He leans in toward my ear.

  “Now, Red, I’ve got to go into that bar and play a few sets,” he whispers, sending shivers down my spine.

  “You’re in the band?” I ask. He grins wickedly before walking past me and knocking on the side door.

  “Baby, I am the band,” he says. The bouncer opens the door and lets him in, and all the while I stand in the alley, still trying to catch my breath.

  All thoughts of the little girl are washed from my mind by the time I get into the bar. As usual, the lighting is dim, with cozy booths lining the exterior and an empty dance floor in front of the stage. Most of the crowd is huddled along the bar, chatting mindlessly until the show starts. I edge my way through a group of girls to get to the bar, where my regular bartender is wiping glasses. He grins when he notices me.

  “Good to see you, Piper. The usual?” he asks. I shake my head no.

  “Actually, Tony, I’m looking for Shelley. Have you seen her?” I ask. He nods and points toward a small door I’ve never noticed before. Surely enough, Shelley is standing, hip out; giggling and flipping her hair back, talking to Craig. She’s decked out in a vintage red skirt that’s too short to be legal and a creamy lace camisole. Craig has his guitar hanging over his shoulder, and instead of the plain band t-shirt and jeans I was expecting to see him in, he’s got on a crisp lavender dress shirt under a black vest.

  “Piper!” she exclaims when I reach them. I nod briefly at Craig as my best friend hugs me tightly, her breath already layered with a tinge of alcohol.

  “When do you go on?” I ask Craig. I ignore the fact that cute boy is up on stage, tuning his guitar. Craig scratches his head lightly.

  “Actually, I should already be up there. We go on in five. Shelley, see you after the show?” he says. Shelley nods, and then her eyes light up as if she’s stumbled upon some brilliant, forgotten idea.

  “Do you have time to introduce Piper to Asher?” she asks. Craig glances quickly at cute boy, who’s still focused on his guitar.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” I say, turning to Shelley, “we’re not playing matchmaker Shelley tonight, okay? You remember what happened last time.” She crinkles her nose before patting Craig lightly on the shoulder.

  “Fine, then. Good luck up there!” she says. Craig blushes slightly before heading back through the door. I practically have to drag Shelley away from the stage, where the crowds are starting to mill and the murmur of conversation is growing.

  “Why do you always do this to me?” I ask as soon as I don’t need to yell. She rolls her eyes indignantly.

  “Is it so bad for me to want to introduce my best girl to a good-looking guitar player?” she asks. I sigh. She always tries to word things like this, making them seem so simple.

  “Whatever his name is. Asher? He’s the guy I ran into on the street the other day. The one who stole my merch,” I say quietly. Her eyebrows rise in surprise.

  “Asher’s your boy?” she asks. My cheeks flush accidentally, and I lower my head, hoping she doesn’t notice.

  “Don’t call him my boy. He’s not my boy,” I reply.

  “He’s a prospective boy,” she continues. I groan inwardly.

  “Do I even need to go on here? Hello? Just two days ago you were lecturing me on not getting involved with a user and here you are now trying to set me up on a date with him! Please find the logic in this for me,” I say. She puts on a pitiful pout, like I’ve insulted her.

  “Maybe I just thought it might be nice if we could double-date sometime. He’s not all that bad, and he’s a wicked guitar player,” she says.

  “And he’s incredibly egotistical, he’s related to Darcy, and we can’t forget that he stole from me,” I retort, trying to ignore the little smile creeping up on Shelley’s lips.

  “What?” I ask finally.

  “You’ve got a crush on him,” she whispers.

  “What?” I repeat.

  “I know you’re trying to play it cool because you always need to be so bad-ass, but maybe for the first time a guy’s gotten under Piper Madden’s skin. Stole from her without her noticing, makes her blush? Looks like I don’t even need to lift a finger,” she says.

  I growl and shove her playfully.

  “So how was your meeting with the white knight?” Shelley asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She means Tor. The blond, shining Tor who used to be my knight, once upon a time. I sigh before answering.

  “He wanted to have dinner. Said he missed me and wanted to catch up.”

  Shelley’s eyes widen like saucers. “Oh, he did not! What else did he say?” she asks, taking a long sip of her drink.

  “He didn’t. I left. What was I supposed to do? I haven’t seen the guy in a year, and if you recall, we didn’t part on very good terms,” I reply.

  “Trust me, he’s had ample time and opportunity to move on, if you know what I mean,” she says, voice lowered.

  A slight pang resounds in my chest. Is that jealousy? I slip Shelley’s drink from her and take a big swig as she rolls her eyes. “Please do not tell me you’ve been thinking about him,” she says.

  The truth is, up until this moment, I haven’t. I’d all but forgotten him in my quest to let the past go, but seeing him, being back with the Corp, it’s all brought back memories and nostalgia. I was happy with Tor, before, I remember this. It was easy, uncomplicated. Is it wrong of me to want to hold onto the one shred of the past that makes me feel normal?

  “I don’t know, Shelley. This is hard for me. I don’t even know how I feel,” I say finally. My best friend stares at me for a moment before signaling the bartender.

  “What you need is a drink and a good night with your best girl and good music to forget about it all,” she says. I sigh as a server brings us two fresh drinks. I hadn’t wanted to, but the idea of letting all of this go, even if just for a night, is so promising that I take the glass in
earnest just as the band assembles on the stage.

  Shelley’s boy Craig stands front and center, while Asher stands just to his side, guitar in hand. The crowd cheers as he strums a riff, and the familiar, chest-shaking volume of the speakers consumes me.

  “Craig said he’d be singing to me all night,” Shelley yells into my ear as the rest of the musicians test out their instruments.

  “Totally sweet!” I yell back. She laughs as she clinks glasses with me.

  “Your sarcasm is fricking palpable, babe, but here’s to a good night!”

  And then the band begins to play, and I find myself unable to focus on anything but the music pounding out through the speakers. It’s the perfect mix of everything, the lyrics tragically beautiful, the beat catchy and the guitar aching with passion. Just as he’d promised, Craig periodically glances at Shelley as he spills words about torrid romance in a decent tenor. However, I can’t seem to focus on any of the other band members. The call of the guitar brings me to Asher, whose eyes remain on me, never wavering even through difficult passages.

  For the first time I understand what it’s like to have someone focused singly on me. There’s no Corp, no Harpy threat, no radiation concerns. Throughout the first set it feels like every song is just for me, my own private concert. The world fades away, all of the anxiety, the confusion, the pain, all lost in those bright blue eyes.

  After the set the band takes a break, and at the bar, girls immediately swarm around them. I see Shelley clench her jaw and I raise my eyebrows.

  “I’m not a jealous person,” she says, struggling to keep her voice serene. I laugh.

  “Right, and Harpies don’t have wings. Come on, let’s go talk to your boy,” I say. I take her by the hand and lead her through the throng of people waiting for a drink. As expected, Craig’s eyes light up when he sees Shelley and he politely dismisses the girls crowding him to greet her. I set up shop against the cold brick wall, letting out a small smile as I watch the two flirt—all while the band’s groupies glare ferociously.

  “So, Red, what did you think?” I whirl around to see Asher leaning beside me, placidly chewing on a toothpick.

  “You’re very talented,” I reply. He tries to hide the fact that he’s smiling, but I don’t miss it. He moves his attention to my best friend with a slight head nod.

  “He likes her a lot, you know,” he says. I steal a glance, taking note of the small grin on Shell’s lips as Craig whispers in her ear.

  “She likes him too, obviously. But I think she really does like him, I haven’t seen her this giddy in a while,” I murmur in reply. He sighs deeply.

  “They make it look easy, don’t they?” he half whispers.

  “What?”

  “You know, the whole flirting bit, finding someone, learning everything about them,” he responds. I tilt my head with a smile on my face.

  “If I didn’t know you were a pompous bastard, I’d almost call you a romantic,” I say. He grins that lopsided, stupidly attractive smile.

  “But you don’t really know me, do you?” he replies. I lean back against the wall and take a delicate sip from my drink.

  “I guess not,” I say. He leans in toward my ear, and instead of feeling threatened or imposed on, it almost feels natural, like we’ve always been this close.

  “But you want to know me, don’t you?” he whispers. I pause for a moment, studying him, his lanky swagger, his shaggy hair, the tiny admonitions that he’s not some asshole but actually carries a soul inside.

  “Maybe,” I reply eventually. I’m expecting him to pull me closer or whisper more, but instead he backs away, his eyes turning dark and sullen.

  “You don’t want to know me, Red. I’m not who you think I am,” he says, and then disappears into the thick crowd without another word. I’m left standing stock still, breathless from the encounter, and more confused than when I’d arrived. I look around for Shelley, but can’t find her, so I finish my drink and go home.

  Chapter Seven

  My legs jiggle uncontrollably in the Hunter meeting room. I’d thought to come early so I could scout everyone out as they arrived, but am dismayed to find everyone already in the large room seated comfortably with each other, drinking coffee and telling jokes. Grier is surrounded by a gaggle of female Hunters clinging to her every word, while Tor and a few other guys lean by the large windows, speaking in low tones, probably comparing battle scars or secretly checking out the girls. Nothing’s changed.

  Except for the fact that I sit alone in a corner flipping through an old magazine from before the war while the rest of the team steals the occasional glance, thinking I don’t notice. I feel the light nudge of an elbow and turn to see Sandy, who pulls up a chair beside me. I don’t think I’ve ever grinned wider.

  “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here,” I say, ignoring the almost lethal glance Grier throws my way. Sandy chuckles and takes the magazine from my hands.

  “What, you’re not enjoying 50 New Tips To Make Your Man Go Crazy?” he asks, citing the article I’d been pretending to read. I snap the mag back from him and toss it back onto the pile of old, crumpled light reading materials.

  “It was more interesting than Make Yourself Ten Pounds Thinner in Ten Minutes,” I quip, and we laugh together. Sandy leans back in his chair, pulling a tiny laptop from his messenger bag and placing it neatly on his lap. He’s not really a Hunter, but being the head of the VR mod design team, he needs to know what we’re up against. Usually I would go to his place after these meetings to help him with the specifics, but this time I’ve got both feet in the water.

  “So, you ready?” he asks. I inhale deeply before nodding.

  “Money is money,” I reply. He rolls his eyes as if to say stop pretending you don’t miss it. Maybe he’s right.

  The entire room snaps to attention as Myra Elder steps into the room, flanked by a young girl with glasses and a flashy palm-pilot, her gaze never wavering from the screen.

  “At ease,” Myra says. She takes a seat at the head of the room as the rest of the team finds chairs around the long meeting table. The Director waits patiently until everyone is seated and looking up at her attentively, then she stands and holds her arm out to me.

  “Let me introduce Ace Piper Madden for those of you who haven’t met her. She’ll be a part of the team from now on,” she says. I struggle to keep my eyes level and my cheeks from flushing as everyone turns their eyes to me. I send out a brief salute before turning back to Myra, who smiles knowingly at me. I resist the urge to glare. Her assistant stands and gestures for our attention.

  “Alright then, I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other soon enough. As you know, this task force was brought together due to the new threat of Harpy insurgents. We have Intel that a member of the Family is recruiting Harpies in an effort to create an army. We don’t know how many are part of the group already, but we do know that that number is rising every day,” she says. A few mouths gape open at the mention of the Family. That being the royal family; the rulers of the Harpy Empire. She slides down a projector screen and flicks the lights from a remote in her palm pilot. An image flashes across the screen of a young Harpy with light auburn hair. His wings are a tapestry of tawny browns and his eyes are jet black, his mouth set in an angry chant as faceless Harpies mill around him.

  “The Prince?” a female Hunter chirps. The assistant shakes her head.

  “The younger brother, Gabriel. The Prince, as far as intelligence tells us, has been missing for a little under a year,” she states.

  “So the Empire is threatened with anarchy,” Tor chimes in. Myra steps up once again.

  “That’s right, Mr. Nelson. Thank you, Annie,” she says, dismissing the girl, who immediately buries herself back into her digital structure. “With the inherent missing, many of the Empire’s citizens are becoming uneasy with the possibility that if the Empress dies, there’ll be no rightful heir,” she says. This time one of Tor’s cronies jumps in.

&nbs
p; “So why wouldn’t the younger brother take his place as heir?”

  Myra shakes her head slightly, almost in a tsk. “The only way the heir can be overthrown is if he is killed. Harpies are almost medieval in their strictness to their ways. With the heir missing, Gabriel cannot take over the throne, though whether or not he is trying to start a new wave of revolution is yet to be known. Gabriel is harsher than even the most ruthless Harpies, with an un-relinquishing bloodlust. If he were to become Emperor, we’d be caught in a full scale war. For this reason, Gabriel cannot succeed if he wishes for the throne. Our job is to obtain more Intel on the group’s plans, and if possible, to terminate the rebellion before any wide-scale damage is done.”

  The heaviness of the situation hangs in the air. No one wants a war with the Family. No one wants war, period, especially due to the constant, daily reminders of what the past war did. No one’s jumping in, offering themselves up for missions. It’s like grade school all over again, with the teacher waiting expectantly on a mill of students who will never raise their hands. I was never one of those students, and I won’t be now.

  “Orders?” I ask. I ignore the stares of my colleagues as Myra smiles tightly with her eyes. She motions for her assistant Annie to take notes.

  “Piper Madden and Grier Lan, you’re in charge of reconnaissance of the area. I want a complete report of our boundaries, weak spots—and of course, if you see any Harpies, you are not to take action. Report any sightings directly to myself or Annie,” she says.

  My shoulders slump. Recon? And no action?

  “And if a soldier determines reason for action?” I ask. This time, the room goes silent, with all eyes on me. It’s Tor who finally speaks up, though he keeps his voice soft.