Winged (Prologue and First Three Chapters)
Here you go, Mr. Reed.
Prologue
September 27th, 14 years ago
They stood out in the night like hares among rabbits in a science experiment. Or it was like somebody had told you they were there, but you couldn’t quite pick them out from each other. Almost invisible, and intending to keep it that way. That was how they worked.
Of course, nothing could really hide them from the silver-haired, cloudy-eyed woman concealed behind the elm tree, as she didn’t rely on sight, merely the other four senses. She smiled to herself as she listened closely to the conversation of the last Flysongs on Earth. She had struck gold tonight: what a story for her already incredible library!
Flysongs were birds at first sight, unassuming, nondescript. But as soon as you took one look in their eyes you knew way better. Their bottomless, tawny irises could tell you the stories of their people, about the magic you never had dreamed existed, and the experience that you couldn’t gather from twenty human lifetimes. You had no problem believing the wild tales they could sing, and even the magical properties they possessed were pushovers after you had looked once in those deep, golden eyes.
The species had once populated the planet in great numbers, known to many humans but good at keeping the magic away from people who were greedy enough to use it to their own advantage. Sadly mankind’s destruction of nature had endangered them the way humans had endangered so many other animals on the globe, and there had been a small group left when an unknown force had declared a battle on them. The male Flysongs had gone to war, and the females were left behind to take care of the chicks that would soon save their kind. But even after the males had beaten back the unidentifiable power, they had returned to their small habitat to find the females and the chicks strewn across the forest floor, all dead and floating in a river of their own blood.
All too soon the males had found themselves dying out, and finally there were only two of them left. And they were dying this very night.
Realizing this, the woman behind the tree heaved a great sigh, startling the two male Flysongs on the other side of the tree.
“What was that?” the first whispered nervously. His red cardinal feathers were slowly molting, and they had given way to a bleak gray interior. The male’s name was Songbeak.
“It . . . was . . . human, Songbeak . . . nothing to . . . worry about,” wheezed out the other. His magnificent golden feathers had departed long ago, and even the gray feathers had gone, showing bare patches of hideous skin. This one’s name was Yellowbreast.
“We can never be sure, Yellowbreast,” Songbeak said cautiously. “Even the most disbelieving human can kill us still.”
Yellowbreat shook his deformed head. “There is . . . no more time . . . for vigilance, Songbeak.”
Songbeak nodded mournfully. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”
“We are . . . too weak . . . to search . . . for any more females . . . This is . . . our last chance . . . before we . . . die.”
“But on babies, Yellowbreast? We should not impose the troubles of a rishka again. Not on children. Even the humans didn’t stoop that low. Where has the dignity of our race gone? I know, I know,” Songbeak amended hastily, stopping Yellowbreast from protesting. “We have no time. But I still wish . . . that there was another way to do this.”
“As do . . . I, Songbeak, as . . . do I. But this . . . is it.”
Songbeak nodded wistfully, knowing that there really was no choice. “How long before the effects begin?”
“On . . . babies, fourteen . . . years.”
Songbeak sighed, but this time with relief. “So they will have time.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Yellowbreast let out a great wheeze, and Songbeak winced, knowing that this was their time. Wordlessly, he spread his wings, but that said enough for Yellowbreast.
“It was . . . . an honor to fly . . . with you,” Yellowbreast whispered. Songbeak nodded in return, saving his strength for his last act.
The woman behind the tree knew what they were doing as they flew to the nearest hospital, and she did not envy the recipients of the bites.
Neither did she envy the Flysongs, and she mourned them as she walked away in silence.
Chapter 1
November, Present Year
Flo Rida rang from my iHome, the only sound in the dark, abandoned house. Something about apple-bottom jeans. I wouldn’t know. My older brother Cole had thrown all of his ridiculous crappy music onto my iPod and listened to it all the time, since I couldn’t figure out how to delete it. My Celtic Woman and Enya had been overrun by T-Pain, Danity Kane, and Will.i.am.
Right now all I wanted to do was read my InuYasha manga in peace, but Cole had put the iPod on shuffle and hidden the iHome where it was inaccessible to the lazy teenager but all too audible. This was the only time I had to read InuYasha, since Dad had banned “that inappropriate, trashy, despicable comic book” (the adjectives were OK, but comic book? There was a very defined difference between manga and comics, thank you very much!) from the house. Of course I had pried up a few floorboards in my closet floor and stashed my collection of thirty books under there, but since Dad couldn’t know that, the only time I had to read them was when he and Cole were at their church social group. And I HATE having music while I read. It’s way too distracting.
Flo Rida’s apple-bottom jeans changed over to Celtic Woman’s “The Voice”, to make me only slightly happier. I had been having incurable (well, Advil wasn’t working at least) back pains all day long, I had been given a ton of homework, I had a slight fever, and now I had crap playing as I read.
Getting up to exchange InuYasha for Timon of Athens, I opened my hideously hot pink door (I had wanted a “glamorous” room at the age of five and had been granted my wish for all eternity) to witness my iHome falling from above. I made a miraculous catch and lay on the floor, panting from the effort. Cole was a real idiot sometimes. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that my iHome may have fallen from its already precarious perch and shattered into a million pieces. I quickly turned off the iPod as “The Voice” began to transform into “Bleeding Love”. Hmmmm. Last I had heard Cole hated that song. The only thing that would have changed his mind would have been the opinion of a girl named Ali.
The perfect idea of revenge hit me instantly. Quickly I ran into Cole’s room and grabbed most of his yearbooks, from first grade to his current junior year. On the way out I snatched a thin Sharpie from the pencil cup on his nightstand. This was going to be fun.
Halfway through demonizing Ali’s fourth grade school picture, the doorbell rang. I froze instantly, then, remembering that Dad and Cole wouldn’t ring the doorbell, went downstairs to answer it. My redemption would have to wait a few minutes.
To my surprise, when I opened the door, he stood there.
Godlike as ever, with his golden hair and chocolate brown eyes, he was the only person in the ninth grade who was taller than me, and the only guy who could make my heart race ahead of its normal rate without any movement from me. My next door neighbor since before I had been born, my best friend since kindergarten.
And also my crush for as long as I’ve known him.
Which he did not happen to know. I was a big chicken once it came to confessions.
It took me longer than he probably expected to take in his expression. “Phoenix,” I asked, bemused, “what’s wrong?”
“I have something to show you,” he said hoarsely. “Something completely unbelievable and that nobody else can know about.”
“What?” I whispered, terrified. Phoenix was never without a smile, so when he was serious, it was all too obvious.
He just shook his head. “Can we go upstairs? To your room?”
“Um . . . sure,” I said cautiously. He followed me on up, murmuring to himself as he walked. I couldn’t dissect any individual words, but still I admired his deep bass tones, flowing like melted chocolate.
As we sat on the floor, Phoenix took a deep breath. “You can’t tell anyone. I trust you enough to not make you swear, but please keep the secret. I could land in some mental hospital.”
Skeptically, I replied with, “O . . . kay?”
He nodded, rocking back and forth on his knees. “I’d been having back pains all day, right? Took Tylenol, the works. But I soon realized that something was very, very wrong. And this is what.”
The last thing I expected was Phoenix to stand off and pull his shirt off. It startled me, but nothing in the world could have prepared me for when he turned around to reveal his back.
Oh, my InuYasha.
There was now meaning to Phoenix’s need of secrecy. There was so much meaning now that I would get stuck in the mental hospital if I talked about it. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and though every bit of my brain was saying it had to be a joke or unreal, I knew Phoenix wasn’t manipulating me in the slightest. He was smart but not this imaginative.
On Phoenix’s back were two identical golden feathers, one on each shoulder blade.
Chapter 2
For a moment I simply sat there, absolutely terrified. There were no words to describe fairy tales becoming reality. All that I had begun to deny the existence of was coming back to bite me on the nose.
Then I made the connection.
My untreatable back pains, the fever, being more irritable than usual. Maybe just a coincidence.
But after seeing this?
Oh. Oh. Oh.
Immediately I ripped off my shirt and raced into the bathroom, turning around to examine my shoulder blades in the mirror.
And sure enough, there were two black feathers on my back, too.
“OH MY INUYASHA! HOW?! HOW CAN THIS BE?!” I screamed, feeling the feathers on my back. “It’s impossible! It’s a trick! This stuff doesn’t exist! Not in this world!”
I ranted a few more minutes, stomping my feet, pulling my hair, the whole shebang. I didn’t register Phoenix’s expression till after I had calmed down a bit. “Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry.” I hastily picked up my Team Edward shirt from the floor and carefully put it back on over the feathers.
Oops. Phoenix and I were close, but it was still, well, a little awkward if he saw me stomping around in nothing but my jeans and my bra.
And really, the last person I wanted seeing my bra was Phoenix.
I guess I looked more humiliated than I had meant to, because Phoenix chuckled and pushed my hair back. “It’s OK, Raven. I don’t blame you. I’d be running and checking had our places been reversed.”
“Well, what’re we going to do?” I practically shrieked. “We can’t let people see these! We’d be put in a zoo!”
“No, we can’t,” he said reasonably. All of a sudden he was the calm one and I the . . . the freaked out one who had no idea what to do. Of course, that was usually where I was. Things felt a little more normal now, despite the bizarre circumstances. “There is hope, though, because of the what-if presented to us. If these things go away in time, then we need never worry about it again. If they stay, then it’ll be a little more difficult, but manageable. However, if they multiply . . . “
“Then we’re screwed,” I finished, flopping back down onto the floor and burying my face in my hands.
He sat down next to me. “Well . . . yeah, then we’re screwed.”
I half-smiled at his bluntness, but then my iHome caught my eye. “Holy crap! Phoenix . . . .”
He looked at the clock. “I’m guessing Cole and your dad are coming back?”
“In, like, three minutes.”
“Uh-oh.”
I began pushing him down the stairs and quickly opened the door for him. “C’mon. The last thing I want is for you to die a very painful death for being up in my room.”
He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t know how you do it, Raven.”
“What?” I questioned, befuddled.
“Still worry about others when it’s your own hide you should be saving.”
I blushed, 1) because he was the sweetest guy in the world, and 2) the only reason he thought so was because he was the only one to receive that treatment. “Thanks. Now get out.”
As soon as he had left, I sank to the floor against the front door, groaning loudly and rubbing my temples. I barely had any friends already (and only one of them goes to my school: Phoenix. I really don’t mind that much. I’m solitary by nature.). The last thing I needed was more kids telling me that I was a freak, and not only that, an outcast from the human race.
I mean, I go through the halls hearing kids whispering, “Oh, that’s the girl who listens to Celtic Woman. Isn’t that the one whose mom died last summer? Look at those ridiculous pants. Who does she think she is, talking to Phoenix Ryder?”
OK, I do kind of bring it on myself, but it’d be nice if they learned to accept me.
It’s just that I look and act the part of a freak. I have long, blue-black hair that falls to the middle of my back, pallid skin that makes me look rather unhealthy, particularly since it doesn’t react well to pimples, manga-huge eyes (which aren’t that attractive on human faces, especially if they’re gold, a particular little inheritance from my mother), and a rather beaky nose, which goes totally out of proportion with my small, awkward build. And, well, no one really does listen to Enya that much, or reads InuYasha (which is a real shame), or wears jeans that have paint splatters and little sayings and doodles on them (from my paintings and days when I get bored in class and find a pen in my hand), or paints every day instead of bothering with a social life. They all hate me anyway, so why even try to make friends?
Even my name labels me as an outcast: Arellica Jeanette Vanderbilt. What a mouthful. Luckily no one calls me that. I’m Raven to everyone, due to my hair color. And I guess I look a little like a bird anyway.
At least I’m not alone on the name front. Phoenix’s full name is Raoul Evan Ryder, and no one can really figure out where Phoenix came from anyway.
Tentatively, I reached up to my back and stroked a feather. It was extremely sensitive, quivering under my hand. I winced.
The sound of the door unlocking made me jump, and I flew upstairs. If Cole and Dad saw me down here, they would, once again, make the ridiculous assumption that I was raiding their precious little stash of movie candy. Honestly, sometimes they were so dense they couldn’t even pass for men, let alone monkeys. Like I would touch their disgusting Hot Tamales and Snickers bars when I had found Mom’s old hoard of Lindor chocolate under her bed. That was what I ate, because when it comes to candy, I only eat the best.
The thought of Mom still sent a pang through my heart, but over the last year and a half I had learned to just move on through my life. It was no use to keep mourning her. Dad couldn’t understand that. But I had learned it long ago. The more vulnerable you appear, the more they’ll want to hurt you. So I bore it with dignity, even though I can’t go a day without remembering her.
My mom was diagnosed with leukemia only two years after I was born. She went into chemotherapy more times than I can remember, losing the beautiful mahogany hair I had seen in her wedding picture and still getting no better. It seemed like every time she came home it took only a couple weeks before she collapsed again and needed treatment. The hospital became more of her home than the house, and I didn’t grow up with her like I should have. I guess that’s partly why I’m able to hide my sorrow, but also why it still hurts. She finally died last summer, when it took too much of her energy to stay alive.
I shook my head as I quickly returned Cole’s yearbooks to their shelves. The thought of Mom was too overwhelming after all that had happened tonight.
Immediately I stored my InuYasha in my closet and picked up Timon of Athens, trying to read it, but my Shakespeare reading requires a ton of concentration. So I merely scanned the pages, waiting for Dad to come up and check on me. I was doing my best to appear cool and calm, but my hands were shaking.
My bedroom door creaked open, and Dad’s black head poked in. As usual, there was no smile on his face, but he was all right with going on with his life. “Hey, Raven, honey. How was your evening?”
‘Nice,” I said, my nonchalant tone sounding convincing. I was a practiced liar after having to hide my InuYasha. “I read some Shakespeare and made that spinach ravioli for dinner. There’s still a few of those left if you want them.”
“Thanks,” he said wearily, coming down and sitting beside me. “It’s so quiet, Raven.”
I looked at him quizzically, unsure what he meant.
He hesitated, but went on. “If she were alive, Raven, the house would be full of laughter. No one would be able to keep the smile off their face.”
I sighed. “I know. I miss her too.”
“She’s not here, Raven, not anymore,” he said, his usually strong voice breaking. “She’s just not here!” Unexpectedly, tears began to pour down his face. This was not normal.
“It’s OK, Dad,” I whispered uncertainly. “We’ll get through this together.”
But he continued on, completely inconsolable. “Why, Marina? Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t this world good enough? Why couldn’t you have stayed with me?” he wailed. He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
I was frightened. Dad’s behavior wasn’t like this. He didn’t break. The only time I had ever seen him cry was Mom’s final words to him. Those were long past, and he had come a long way. “Cole?” I called, needing someone else for this.
Footsteps came down the hallway, the sound clashing with Dad’s sobs. “You went somewhere I can’t follow, Marina! Why? You weren’t supposed to! You had me! You had Cole! You had Raven! But you left! Marina, come back to me!” He was turning hysterical, and I felt that way too.
“Dad!” I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. “Dad! It’s OK! Come on!” Cole appeared at the doorway, anxiety apparent on his face. No, more than anxiety . . . he was as scared as I was.
Dad, however, turned to me, his expression changing, but this was even more terrifying than the old one. His grief-stricken face was giving way to a manic smile. “Marina! You came back to me!”
I inhaled sharply and stood up, backing away. This was even more terrifying than the preceding rant. “No. I’m Arellica Jeanette Vanderbilt, Dad. I’m not your wife. I’m your daughter.”
Anger and sorrow returned to his eyes. “Then there is little of a life here.” And with that he flew downstairs.
Chapter 3
“Come on, Cole!” I screamed, a little late. He was already running down after Dad. I skipped every two steps, but Cole’s yell made me go even faster.
I found them in the kitchen, Cole frozen like a statue. I was immobilized too, for in Dad’s hand was a steak knife, and it was poised above his jugular.
“Now, Marina,” he hissed, the insane smile lighting up his face, “we can be together once more.”
“NO!” I screeched, propelling myself with as much force as I had. This was not going to happen. I tackled Dad with more strength than I was used to having, knocked the knife out of his hand, and made sure his head hit the floor hard. He needed the knockout.
Cole remained motionless for a moment. “Watch him,” I murmured, picking up the phone. “I need to make the call.” He nodded curtly.
I punched in the numbers I had only dialed once in my life before, when Mom had collapsed again with only me there.
The cool female voice answered. “911 Emergency Center, please state your crisis.”
“My dad’s gone insane,” I said softly. “Send an ambulance as fast as you can.”
Sirens wailed near us, and I let out a minute sigh. Help was here. They knocked on the door, and Cole let the paramedics in, telling them the story in a low monotone. I was glad he was able to, for I knew that it was too much for me to even open my mouth.
How had an ordinary Thursday evening turned into such a nightmare?
I sat there in shock as they loaded Dad onto a stretcher and carried him outside. This . . . it just couldn’t be real. Yet I knew it was as Dad moaned in his daze, “Marina! Don’t go!”
I had to get away from here. I stepped outside and tapped Cole on the shoulder. “I’m going for a walk. I won’t go far,” I murmured. He nodded, preoccupied.
I began to meander through the hectic disarray of the ambulance and paramedics, stepping nimbly despite my absent mind. Not even glancing back at the horror behind me, I started down the steep decline of the avenue.
There was just no way it could all be happening, and yet it was all too real for my fragile reality. Once again I touched the feather on my left shoulder blade, knowing full well it wasn’t going away any time soon. This was too much.
I tasted salt and realized, unsurprised, that I was crying. I seemed to do that every time I was overwhelmed. The tears did nothing to ease my confusion and pain, and I just let them fall, soaking the hair that was hanging across my face. My mom was dead. My dad looked well on his way to a mental hospital. And the feathers. Oh, InuYasha, the feathers. Was it not enough to have my parents going the same direction? Nope. Obviously reality had no limits after all.
“Raven!”
I had been expecting that voice, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before he found me. After all, the ambulance was in front of his house, too.
I heard his running feet, and I mumbled, “Hello, Phoenix.”
He caught me up in a tight hug. I didn’t respond; only let myself be held as the tears still came. “Oh, Raven,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be OK. It’s gonna be all right. We can make it through this. We can do it. Come on.”
I didn’t register the words. I just let it all loose, sobs rocking my already delicate chest. He let me soak his t-shirt, only hugging me tighter and saying more words of comfort in my ear.
These were the times when I loved him the most, and the times where I knew all too well that he never could know. I was very sure that if I told him, I would lose all of what I was getting now. And this was more important to me than anything: his friendship.
So I let myself cry and be hugged and felt sorry for. After all, it was the least anyone could do on a night like this.
After five minutes of this, I remembered Cole. He didn’t have anyone to comfort him, and he needed me. Reluctantly I broke away from Phoenix and began trudging back up the street in the general direction of my house. I really didn’t know I was going anywhere, but at least I processed it was somewhere I knew.
The ambulance created a glowing path, and I followed that. Cole hugged me briefly, his face full of worry, and I hugged him back as the ambulance drove away. “He has to be OK, Cole,” I murmured. “It’s gotta have a happy ending.”
He didn’t respond, and I got the bad feeling that he didn’t agree.
I wandered up to my room again, my head spinning. I was so unfocused and exhausted that I fell on the stairs, a dull pain suddenly stabbing my lip. It didn’t bother me, and I fell across my bed, sure that I could sleep like Rip Van Winkle if I was given the choice.
Rip Van Winkle. Man, I envied the guy. Luckiest fairytale character ever. Outlived all his problems, and he did it how? Sleeping it out. I wished I could do that in my unconscious mind. I wouldn’t mind a bit.
I totally wouldn’t have taken Sleeping Beauty’s place for anything. She had to wake up and find all of the people of her castle still there. What a pain.
When I awoke in the morning, I was aware of three things.
One, I felt terrible. My head hurt, my eyes refused to stay open, my nose was stuffed up, and the back pains from yesterday were even worse. I had also fallen asleep in my clothes, which is my least favorite thing in the world. Pajamas are a wonderful invention. I hadn’t brushed my teeth either, so my mouth felt gross.
Two, last night had been the worst night of my life, or it had at least made the top three. That part needed no extra explaining.
Three, the feathers on my back had gone from one on each shoulder blade to seven.
