by T Hearts
Spitting out the sand from her mouth, Griffin cleared her throat and addressed them both with a rasping voice.
“Call sign: Griffin, sir. Diamond rank. Mission brief: Gather intelligence upon Hasekura operations.”
The old man raised an eyebrow and looked casually across to the fiery Avio.
“Sounds like your gig, San.”
The Avio bristled, but more warily this time.
The black feathers across her face and shoulders rose and fell in waves of quick emotions that Griffin struggled to decode. She wasn’t as apparent as Nico was with his feelings, keeping her expression angrily neutral, but the nervousness was evident.
She mumbled something to herself, and then composed herself, standing up straight and tucking her wings back.
“IO mentioned you. That you came from Core.”
“This wasn’t me. I promise you.”
“If it wasn’t you then what the hell is all this?” A wing swept out across to gesture to the tower, but her arms remained staunchly folded across her chest. Griffin knew how it looked. An armed ARCDA agent in the middle of her sister’s ruined home.
“And what’s this about Hasekura setting up shop in the area? Was it them who did this?”
Griffin blinked. How much had IO told her? She hadn’t expected her to be in contact with anyone at all, much less another Avio.
“I believe so.”
“Right. Where are they then?”
“San,” the old man scolded. “Take a second to breathe and think first.”
She ignored him and took a stride towards Griffin, her wings straining with effort not to flutter and beat her.
“Tell me right now where she is or else I-”
A sound caught Griffin’s attention and he held her hand up to silence San as she aggressively began to flex her talons in threat to get her to answer.
“Car.” She said quickly, reactively looking in the direction of the sound. “Keep quiet and keep still.”
San halted and listened. Head cocking to the side like a bird. More feral than IO, but not all the way wild.
A small amount of time went by as they all listened. The car came to a rocky stop. There was the crunch of feet on the ground, a mumbled curse, and then a woman shouted up to the tower.
“Who’s there. Is someone in there?”
“Peyton! Peyton its Turtle and San.” San yelled immediately and shot outside in a blur of black and orange-red. Shaking his head the man, Turtle, followed her outside and gave a nod for Griffin to do the same.
Outside, San was holding Peyton’s hands, talking loudly and rapidly about everything that she knew to have happened. Every time she raised her voice, her forked tail feathers would flick out and her primaries strain and flex like fingers. Griffin watched them enviously.
Beside her, the old man cleared his throat, snapping her attention away from San’s wings.
“Miss Griffin was it?” He said firmly, giving her a critical look from over the tops of his sunglasses before extending his hand. “Call me Turtle.”
“Turtle?”
“It’s Sundowner’s name for me. Better than Terryl at least.” He said with a husky chuckle. He was definitely human as far as Griffin could see. Weathered leathery skin blemished with liver spots and a greyed beard. Even when they were in the dark of the shelter, he hadn’t removed his sunglasses and helmet, and despite the heat he appeared perfectly comfortable in the motorcycle leathers. He even appeared comfortable with her.
That was a bizarre feeling. All the humans she had encountered before were either very wary or mystified by her. The ones who stared quietly or got over it fast were the ones she preferred, better than the ones who poked or pulled on the feathers or asked uncomfortable questions.
She nodded and shook his hand, remembering her manners.
“Nice to meet you sir.”
“No need for the sir, just Turtle is fine.”
She smiled. Watching San again and her theatrically dramatic display of rambling, she knew she needed to have something to show this wild thing that she was trustworthy. It was doubtful that San would listen to her directly, but maybe her friend would.
Dipping back into the shelter, she went and retrieved some things from the floor and handed them to Turtle.
“I think this is IO’s phone. I found it on the floor along with some EMI cartridges.”
“EMI?”
“Electromagnetic Incapacitators.”
“This is fancy.” He admired the cartridge in the sun, as Griffin held it flat on the palm of her hand for him to see. “You really should have worn gloves before you picked any of these things up.”
“They’ve already been discharged.”
“I meant for fingerprints. You go walk around a crime scene like that, leaving your own evidence everywhere, someone is going to get the wrong idea about what went on.”
Griffin looked taken aback. What was this man? An Onyx? She liked him already though, she knew that much.
“Speaking of which. You’d best explain yourself to Sundowner over there before she goes all wildcat on you again.” He gave a nod to San who Peyton was still trying to get a word in edgeways over as well as calm her down by brushing on San’s wing arches.
“Asher called me up from Emory, said he and a few other saw big movers.” Peyton managed to get out in a half-shout between San’s frantic and disjointed rambling, “Livestock carriers using the main roads, and one coming from off-road. I went and checked, and all of those Raptors were gone.”
“Yes yes, but there’s a bigger problem! IO’s gone and she is here!” She dragged the ranger towards the doorway and jabbed her finger forth. Not wanting to be cornered in a dark place, Griffin stepped forward out into the sunlight, her hands still raised.
Peyton froze in place, staring at Griffin.
This was more like what she was used to.
Her appearance always caught people off-guard whenever they first met her. Once, a tutor of hers had told her what his first impression of her was; chimerical. Unreal. A creature that was distinctly not what it appeared to be. Humans expected to see humans, and what they got unsettled them.
She didn’t know what Peyton thought of the indigo-haired, feathered but un-winged savage with hawk eyes and scars across her face, but the perturbed look in her eye let her know that she was aware that what she was looking at wasn’t human.
Swallowing and pulling her shoulders back, Griffin was proud at how fast she pushed down her immediate instinct to be calm and collected.
“I take it, you were the one who shot that guy.” Said Peyton firmly and pointedly.
“Which one?”
“The cowboy.”
“Again. Which one?”
Peyton’s eyes went wide for a second, but she kept her calm. A smile tugged at the corner of Griffin’s mouth.
“So, did you have some part in this?” She was being patient, but it was very quickly turning to alarm as her eyes flicked between Griffin, Turtle, and San, and then to the wrecked radio tower.
Griffin shook her head. “Unfortunately, this may have been your friend IO’s fault for attacking those men, and then flying off here immediately.”
“That’s bullshit!” San snarled, wings flicking a tornado of dust up with a single sharp beat. “She would never-”
“No, San. IO did attack some men yesterday.” Peyton sighed, much to San’s abject anger. “Why are you up here though?”
Griffin rolled her shoulders back, wings drawing in tight within her mind’s eye. There was no reason to lie and cover anything up. San was angry enough as it was, she didn’t need to have her talons in her throat.
“I have been following these people for a while now, investigating them. No big operation, just a holding pen for some of the critters they’ve stolen. They’re pretty organised for a bunch of guys who have no idea what they’re doing. A hundred or so workers and a few mercs.”
“So, they’ve been- the mystery ostriches!” She clapped her
hands together, “That’s where they came from. How did we not know about this sooner though?”
“Because it’s only been very recent. At most a month.”
San did not look impressed and puffed up fiercely, putting herself between the humans and Griffin.
“Well if you know where they are and what they’ve got, you’ve got to go save her!”
Griffin snorted. “Sure. Of course.”
“You have to!”
“Me and what army?”
“You said you were a Diamond! This is what Diamonds do right? Call up your reinforcements and save her! Now!”
The dark feathers down Griffin’s spine bristled. This girl was as demanding and aggressive as some of her superiors. She didn’t need to be ordered about by a feral child.
“Diamonds only do that stuff if they’re contracted to, so pay me first, Sunshine.”
San tensed. She was about to pounce upon her once again until Turtle softly stroked the arch of San’s wings, soothing her with soft words.
“Sundowner, calm.”
“She did this Turtle!”
“San. This situation is far too complicated to put the blame on one person.” Turtle said diplomatically, pulling her back and gently squeezing her shoulders. “From what you’ve told me about your little sis, she’s a tough girl. She’s as strong as I am old. Isn’t that what you told me one time?”
“Yes but-”
“We’ll figure it out and we’ll free her. Wont we, Miss Griffin.”
The stern look he gave her reminded her of Mykonos. Authoritative, directive without being aggressive, but also deeply caring about those under his command.
“Your confidence is staggering.” Griffin huffed. “Why would you believe-”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, and if that were you – trapped and caged - wouldn’t you want someone to save you too?”
The old man might as well have put a shotgun to her gut and pulled the trigger.
All alone in the windowless box of cold concrete- her knuckles raw from pounding on the door- only glad that it was so dark that she couldn’t see them bleeding- too scared to call for help, too scared to scream -no one is coming, no one is coming, you should have done as you were told- they’re all gone and you’re all ours-
She shuddered at the memory. Chilled and horrified that it had caught her so off guard.
Did he know something about her? Was he a muser? Unlikely, but it still it unnerved Griffin how close his words cut and she shoved the memories and terrifying silencing powerlessness back into their own dark cage.
Amethyst training snapped in. Protect and investigate, those were the priorities. The Major didn’t want her dealing with the ranch on her own, however, there was nothing in her brief that said that she couldn’t accept help from others.
“Alright.” She said without wating so much as a beat. “I may have an idea.”
Turtle looked pleasantly surprised. “That was fast.”
“There is one condition however.” Griffin raised her hand before San began to speak. “If you want to help your sister, you need to listen and do exactly as I say.”
Chapter 14
Would this work? Maybe. Would she be able to get the job done without San interfering? Probably not, despite her many orders and warnings for her to not make any appearance at all. The lieutenant would absolutely rip her to shreds if he found out she was compromising her position like this, that was the only thing she was dead certain of.
Although she had known Turtle for only a few hours, she was certain that he loved San like a father and would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant siphoning out half the tank of gas out of his bike and allowing a stranger to take both it and his leathers out for a walk into the desert.
She admired Turtle’s conviction, but that didn’t stop her from cursing him for the sweat and stink of stale cigarette smoke that came with the oversized leathers and helmet, or for the idea to start pushing the bike two miles from the ranch.
Not even twenty minutes in shed begun to sweat, with her feathers becoming damp and sticky right down to her cropped tailfeathers.
Perfect.
Sweaty stinking feathers. Just what she needed. And she was sure that the sweat starting to drip down her forehead would wash away the makeup she had put on to cover up the worst of her scars.
Even better.
Walking in with a melting face, stinking like a goat, her hair loose to cover the feathered ear-tufts and struggling to see anything from beneath a pair of thick sunglasses that were meant to hide the distinctive inhuman yellow-blue starburst of her eyes, it would be a wonder if they didn’t try shooting her on sight.
At least out here she didn’t have to put up with San’s howling.
No sooner had she crossed the threshold into the driveway of the ranch than there was an armed man walking quickly towards her, having seen her approaching the gate from a newly erected watchtower. One of the mercenaries who had been so close to catching her tail in recent days. The arm guards, stab proof vest under desert camouflage khakis, and heavy-duty boots would have made her as hot as she was under all of Turtle’s leathers.
The muscles in her back tensed; the ghost of her wings within her mind’s eye tightening and drawing in close against her.
“Hey! Hi there! Can you help me? Please?” She called out to the man, huffing as she pushed the bike along.
Watching her with suspicion, his finger was already on the trigger. She didn’t expect anything less from a mercenary, though she didn’t count on the unnatural mottled bronze colour of his eyes with diamond shaped pupils being the thing which outed him and his true nature.
A Preternatural.
He looked her up and down as he approached her. A few of his freckles darkening then fading strangely as the sunlight fell on his tanned skin. Even strands of his long dark hair shifted hues ever so slightly. Camouflage skin, many Preternaturals and Reptile based synths had this ability, it wasn’t uncommon but it was strange to see in person. It was at least a trait that could help narrow down what origin base he was; likely a SIRIUS or maybe even an aesthetically male-looking GEMINI or VELA origin.
“You’re trespassing.”
“Not intentionally, I assure you.” She chuckled, brushing her indigo hair with an exhausted and semi-heat struck smile, “I don’t suppose you have any gas in them barns. I think I’m way off from anywhere civilised, and I’d rather not be vulture food any time soon.”
The man gave a little amused snort and loosened his finger off the trigger. A familiar tickle irritated the back of her head.
A muser too?
Great. Just great.
Calmly, she itched the back of her head, knowing that even humans could feel the tingle when the active thoughts of their minds were being observed, and immediately she threw up her defences, thinking only of a map of the US and trying to visualise where she was on it. It was a basic defence against musers who relied on active thoughts, though the hardest part was trying not to think about the thing you didn’t want them to know.
“Why are you out here?” He asked calmly, “You on a road trip or something like that?”
“Yeah something like that.”
“Where are you heading to then?”
“I’m doing this national park road trip, and just finished up in Big Bend, now I’m on my way to Guadalupe Mountains and then to Carlsbad. Well…I was until I ran out of gas.” She slapped the tank loudly, “I was hoping to get to Ter…. wait what’s it called…. Terlinguist? Terraling?”
“Terlingua.”
“That’s the one. It was on my map here.” She pulled out the huge paper folds that Turtle had given her with a genuine struggle. The Preter looked like he was trying extremely hard not to laugh and stepped in closer to give her a hand, neatening out the folds and watching her as she tried to find where they were.
“This place.” She said finally. The Preter chuckled and tapped the map.
“I hate to b
reak it to you, but you’re on the wrong road.”
“Sunnova-” She groaned and let the bike begin to fall. The Preter darted forward and caught it for her.
She attempted to help, glancing a look to the back of his neck, knowing this would be where his Synth ID was, and glad that he had cut his hair short at the nape.
M:11.13:CE was all that she could see on the little ID code that was tattooed there. There was only one Preternatural origin that began with CE which was the code for CETUS.
‘Shit!’
CETUS originating Preters were meant to have been decommissioned and euthanised, and those remaining were never allowed outside of ARCDA perimeters for an entire catalogue of reasons. The Major would have entirely changed the assignment had she known about this, making his capture a priority.
This was bad.
So bad she wanted to scream.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” She said, letting the stress tighten her throat. She hated that even after years of training herself to keep calm, the slightest sting of fear threatened to silence her though in this situation she was grateful for it. Tears prickled her eyes and she took the sunglasses off to rub them, then let out a stifled sob. “Now my mascara’s all smudged.”
The Preter took a small step back, uneasy with her distress.
His skin flickered with a strangely rosette pattern, before fading away back to neutral. He likely wasn’t even aware that he was doing it. With slow and deliberate movements, he checked that the gun had the safety on before he swung it round on the strap to put it behind him, holding his hands up.
“It’ll be okay.” He said gently, approaching her cautiously, “I can help. We’ll find you some gas and set you on the right road.”
“Thankyou. Good to know that even in a dang desert you can find a friend.”
“Friend?” Pleasant surprise flickered across his face for a second then he laughed. “You mustn’t have many reliable friends then.”
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
“If you want to add to that list of friends, call me Xavier.”