by Susan Klaus
“You’re not getting off that easy,” said the man whose friends called Jake. His sounds were confusing, but Shail sensed the lack of honor. He knew a slow, horrendous death awaited him. Jake tossed Shail over his brawny shoulder and took him to the metal bird, roughly throwing him inside. The noisy bird rose and flew over several islands before it landed on a floating dwelling. Once there, Shail was tied down, and the hellish journey across the water began. The men unmercifully kicked and tormented Shail, forcing him to thrash wildly against his rope bonds. By the second light the wounds and fatigue had taken their toll. He could only softly hiss and tremble. The men stopped the abuse when they feared he would die before the taking of his wings.
Shail remembered how he had tried to will his own death, but he couldn’t focus on it. With darkness came the smell of land, and he knew his death wish would soon be answered. It was then he saw her in a dream. She stroked him and said he should hold on to this life.
Shail gazed at her in the dark room. It had been no dream. She had come for him. He mustered his strength and slid closer, placing his arm around her and covered the two of them with his extended, uninjured wing. She continued to sleep, but unconsciously snuggled against his chest. A peace settled over him, and the panic dissipated. He wouldn’t leave the cage without her.
* * *
Doc woke at daybreak. After only four hours of sleep, he was exhausted, but his anxiety over the harpy forced him from the comfortable bed. He dressed, wondering if the golden had survived the night. He walked through the familiar cottage and saw the empty couch. The Turner girl had already gone to the harpy. He carefully pushed open the bedroom door.
A soft morning light rested on her and her harpy. They slept with their arms encasing one another, and a large wing lay draped over their slender frames. The male’s boyish face rested against the lovely girl’s head, and their long flaxen hair mingled. Doc was captivated by the breathtaking pair and watched them for some time. They’re beautiful, but doomed, he sadly thought. The golden male was the most prized game animal in the galaxy. Even if he recovers, his life would be short, and the girl had no future with a harpy. The creature would only bring her misery. He questioned whether he had done the right thing by saving him, allowing the forbidden love.
The girl moved, and the harpy instinctively nuzzled her without waking. Even in sleep, they were affectionate. Better they sleep and enjoy some peace, Doc thought. He went to the kitchen and made breakfast.
After a few hours, Doc returned to the bedroom, knowing the male was overdue for an antibiotic patch. He had purposely given the harpy a mild painkiller, hoping the pain would force him to lie still and allow the surgery wound to heal. Walking past the sleeping pair, he noticed the harpy stir and sniff the air. Like all animals, the harpy’s scent and hearing were acute. His blue eyes opened, and he looked at Doc. A seething sound came from his parted lips, and he grasped the girl while a protective wing completely covered her. The harpy defiantly glared, and his low seething became a noisy hiss.
“Easy, boy. I’m not going to hurt you or her,” Doc said as the male become more rattled.
His feathers quivered with the pain and stress, but despite his injury and weakness, the harpy looked prepared to defend the girl.
“Easy now,” Doc said. “I just want to check your wound.” He moved his small medical scanner toward the harpy.
The harpy’s fist swiftly came out from the feathers and struck the scanner, sending it flying across the room. The harpy bared his teeth and snapped, moving his body over Kari. He angrily tossed his locks, and threatening hisses escaped through his teeth. He crouched into a leaping position as he glared at Doc.
“You’re a mean little cuss,” Doc grumbled, walking over and picking up his scanner.
Kari woke with the commotion and found herself under the harpy’s body. “You’re alive.”
“He’s alive, all right, and full of the devil,” Doc growled. “He keeps moving, he’ll damage all my surgerical work. Come away from him. I believe he’s trying to protect you.”
“Doc won’t hurt me, Shail,” Kari said, unclasping the harpy’s arms. When she moved off the bed, the harpy tilted his head, looking perplexed.
“Let’s try this again,” Doc said, approaching the bed. Instead of standing his ground, the harpy retreated, scurrying across the bed. He defensively coiled up and seethed. “This is impossible,” Doc said. “He’s too wild to be handled.”
Kari went to Shail and stroked the soft hair on the shivering harpy. “He’s very scared.” She cupped Shail’s chin. “Doc saved your life. You must let him treat you.” She looked up at Doc. “Do you think he understands me?”
“Obviously not,” Doc said and watched the harpy. Like a trapped animal looking for an escape, the harpy nervously seethed as his alert eyes shifted from the man to the screen window. Doc rubbed his beard. “If I force him into corner, he’ll fight me out of fear or he’ll make a dash for the window and smash the screen. But maybe he’ll fall for an old hunting trick. It supposedly can calm a frantic harpy.” He left the bedroom.
Kari sat on the edge of the bed and watched Shail. Despite his human features, he behaved like a feral animal. His wide terrified eyes hastily scanned the room while he shook and panted. None of her soothing words and touches would tame him. Every inch of him was tense and displayed an unwillingness to yield.
She took his hand. “Shail, you’re going to be all right.” He swallowed hard and gazed at her, his watery eyes showing distress.
Doc walked into the bedroom with a large butcher knife. “You want this?” He raised the blade over the harpy.
“What are you doing to him?” Kari screamed.
“Trust me,” Doc said.
The golden sniffed the knife and turned toward Kari with a look of profound longing. He glanced back at Doc and shivered, then tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Doc moved in, grabbed the harpy’s hair, and held his head back. The harpy shuddered, but didn’t resist.
“Pretty good trick,” Doc said, putting down the knife. “I always wondered if it really worked.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Doc frowned. “For such a harpy lover, you sure don’t know much about these creatures. Come around here and hold his hair. He’ll think I still got him. Keep his throat exposed, and I’ll make his exam quick.” Doc placed two patches under the harpy’s wings and scanned his wound. Removing the old bandage, he treated the injury with antibiotics and sprayed on a sealant bandage. “Watch what I’m doing. You may have to do this next time.”
After a few minutes, Doc had finished. He grabbed the harpy’s hair and motioned Kari away. “Good boy,” he said, releasing the hair and petting his head. The harpy opened his eyes and stared up in bewilderment. “Can’t blame him for being trouble. Those hunters gave him a rough time.”
The harpy slid across the bed and pulled in his limbs, covering his body with feathers.
Kari scratched her head. “Why did he let you treat him?”
“He expected me to cut his throat,” Doc said. “Hunters say that mortally wounded harpies perform this ritual, toss their head back and go dead still. Some men believe harpies just give up because they’re spineless, but your golden is no coward. He was fixing to jump me. Healthy, he’d be a hell of a handful.”
The harpy cocked his head at Doc.
“He’s a curious little fellow. Can’t figure out why I spared him.” Doc chuckled and stood. “I’m having another cup of coffee and watching the news. There’s a sedative patch on his back, and he’ll go down in about ten minutes, but you better stay with him. He was eyeing the window. He’s strong enough to break the screen and climb out. It’s amazing how fast he recovered.” Doc left for the kitchen.
Kari sat on the bed, but the harpy ignored her and watched the door.
“Not all men are bad, Shail.” She stroked his head and the harpy relaxed, uncoiling his body.
* * *
Shail realized the man w
asn’t coming back, so he focused on the female. He reached up and caressed the side of her face, running his thumb over her moist lips. She didn’t reject his advance, so he leaned closer and kissed her mouth while gently forcing her to recline. Uncertain if he would survive the hunters or his wounds, he had no time for harpy courtship. He crawled on her, assuming the breeding position, and stimulated her with soft kisses and his manipulating hands.
Like their dreams, her affection was mutual. She longed to hold him, to have him. He nipped at her neck and pushed up the gown, exposing her small, nude body. Massaging her breast, he suckled like an infant while his firm erection throbbed between her legs, moistening and penetrating. Every part of him worked to inflame her desire to accept his seed and bear his offspring.
“No, Shail,” she moaned. “This is happening too fast.”
Shail stopped and lifted his head. To force himself on an unwilling female could cause her rejection of his fledgling. Though her sound conveyed doubt, her thoughts said she was his and wished no other male. He had to be sure. He buried his face in her hair and made his penis lightly pulse up and down, fueling her sexual craving. His partly extended wings fluttered with excitement. Detecting her building climax, he shut out the searing pain from his weak and battered body and mustered his remaining strength. His breath quickened as his teeth clutched her neck, preparing to consummate the mating. She totally accepted him.
Unlike a man who mated for pleasure, he was an animal who procreated to ensure his bloodline and willingly endured any hardship to complete this goal. Neither love nor passion played a role in the bonding. He was driven by despair and fear—fear he might not survive the captivity. As the last golden male and reigning monarch of the harpies, he lacked an heir and was obligated to produce a future ruler and protector of his flock. He had waited ten raining seasons for the chosen female’s return, but their time for bonding had run out.
Sensing her welling up and the tremendous rush in her head, he positioned his penis for total invasion and to complete his own climax. He suddenly felt dizzy and frantically shook his head, but the off-balance and numbing feeling wouldn’t leave. Frightened and confused, he sniffled at her and laid his head on her breasts, hoping to recover. Moments away from completing the breeding, his own body betrayed him. He closed his drowsy eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Kari lay beneath the slumbering harpy for some time, knowing the sedative patch had taken effect and knocked him out cold. She gently pushed the lightweight male off her and sat up. The control, the spell he had over her faded, and she uneasily stared at Shail. With one kiss, he had seduced her in less than ten minutes. All of Charlie’s and her father’s warnings came thundering back. Was this the rape men spoke of? She covered her mouth with her hand. The full gravity of the incident sunk in. If the bonding had been completed, would she have lost her mind or her life?
Kari stared at the silky blond hair strands that drifted over his long eyelashes, his small nose, and full lips. Though a mature male, his alluring looks were childlike. “You didn’t rape me. I let you,” she said quietly, hoping to be convinced of his innocence, but the haunting question remained, could she resist him?
She wasn’t even sure what Shail was. He looked mostly human, but his mind and nature was wild animal. She still loved him, but felt her love was tainted with distrust. Even hurt and frail, he had nearly taken her. What would she do when he recovered? Would he obey her wish not to bond? It came down to a choice. Should she choose her own safety or his?
I can’t abandon him, she thought. He can’t fly, and he’s too weak and injured to last long in the jungle. “I have to stay with him regardless of what my father says.” She leaned over and kissed his lips. Her heart fluttered and goose bumps covered her body. The desire to crawl into his arms and cuddle him was overwhelming. Even unconscious, he was a magnet, drawing her to him. She quickly stood and backed away from the bed. “I won’t kiss you again.”
She went to the bathroom, stripped off the flimsy medical gown, and dressed in her clothes. Maybe Doc had some of her answers. Last night he had laughed off Charlie’s notion of a harpy spell.
* * *
Doc sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and Kari joined him. “Want some?” he offered.
“Yes, please,” she said, sitting down. She leaned against the table, wearily placing her hands against her forehead.
“You look upset,” Doc said, pouring the coffee into her cup.
“I am,” she said. “I’m in love with that harpy, but I hardly know or understand him.”
“Don’t feel alone,” he said. “Nobody knows the harpies. They’re Dora’s greatest mystery, but I think they’re more like us than people are willing to admit. I want to show you something.” He opened a drawer and rummaged through it, producing a tattered picture. “My grandfather gave this to me. Said it was taken one hundred and twenty years ago, when Dora was a new colony. The motion is broken, but you can see the images.” He handed the photo to her.
Kari looked at three smiling men standing under a large tree. Two harpies hung by their wrists from a branch and waited to be stripped and slaughtered. The picture was obviously a trophy hunt. “It’s awful.”
“Yes, but look closely at those harpies.”
Kari studied the picture. “They don’t look like present-day harpies. They have more hair on their bodies and look similar to loca eagles.”
“Exactly, and they have tails. Do you know why the first settlers named them harpies?”
“Not really, but I know ‘harpy’ is a Greek word meaning ‘to snatch.’ Harpies were noisy flying monsters, usually female, in ancient Greek mythology.”
“It’s documented that our harpies once chattered,” Doc said, “but how did present-day harpies change from their ancestors and became mute, sleek males?”
Kari shrugged.
“The male harpies stole the colony women and mingled the races. Your golden has human blood. That’s why the blood transfusion worked last night. I’m betting that something happened to the harpy females—a disease, a genetic defect that caused only male fledglings to be born—whatever it was, it wiped out their females, forcing these shy males to enter settlements and risk death to steal a woman. For over a hundred years we’ve been searching for a female harpy. Some people think the females are stashed on the islands or in the forbidding mountains, but I don’t believe they exist. In my retirement I’ve been studying the harpies, hoping to prove my theory.”
“If harpies are part human, they shouldn’t be hunted like wild game.”
“It’s politics, my dear,” Doc said. “Do we pass laws and protect a species that steals our women or let the hunters wipe out this threat? If the people knew the harpies were winged men, would the hunting be sport or murder? By the time it’s figured out, the harpies will be gone. More and more hunters come to Dora and invade the islands, the last harpy sanctuary. I bet your harpy is the last golden. As a boy, I’d fish the coast and watch the traveling brown flocks, led by a dominant golden male. Those days are over. Besides your boy, I haven’t seen or heard of another golden in twenty years, and that golden was killed by your father.”
“The one that tried to steal my mother,” Kari said. “I guess the golden harpies are valuable because they’re so rare.”
“Rare, but they’re also more aggressive than browns. Your harpy is living proof. A captured brown dies from fright and shock on the first day, and it won’t have the nerve to strike my scanner like your golden. Hunters prize a challenging animal. What surprises me is that idiot Jake managed to bring your golden down.”
“Jake said they had wounded a fledgling, and the golden flew down and attacked a guy named Hank and broke his arm.”
“What a little spitfire.” Doc chuckled. “Wish I could’ve seen those surprised boys. So, how did you get the harpy from Jake?”
“I traded my new terrain vehicle.”
“I said that Jake is an idiot,” Doc said. “H
e based the harpy’s price on old taxidermy wings found in the Terrance antique shops, but these days a live golden would bring a fortune. Have you decided where you’re going to take him? He’ll need quiet rest and antibiotics for ten days, and you’re right about John. If your father found a golden with his daughter, he wouldn’t think twice about killing it.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Dad stopped the harpy hunting on the estate. Maybe it’s the safest place.”
“John may lift the ban when he learns you got the harpy,” Doc said, “and it won’t be long, with Carol running her mouth. John and every hunter from here to Terrance will hear about your broken-winged pet. It’ll be like a treasure hunt for gold. They’ll be looking for your helpless golden that can’t fly off.”
“I have a place in mind, and I’ll leave tonight,” she said. “Shail may also tell me of a safe place.”
“Tell you?” Doc asked.
“Harpies don’t speak or make sound, but I can somehow understand their thoughts. A brown harpy told me that Shail needed me. I didn’t figure out his message until I found Shail with the hunters.”
Doc raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of anyone communicating with harpies.”
“I was told by a vet at the Hampton Zoo that harpies trust me and use their sixth sense to relate to me. The vet is also studying the harpies and hopes to save them from extinction. The Dora government is funding his research.”
“The government!” said Doc. “That sounds fishy. It’s our senators who promote the harpy hunting. They recently passed legislation to add a bounty on harpy wings. If the governor signs it, the bounty will raise the price of wings, bringing more hunters to Dora.”