Cloudy Sky: The Unlucky Thirteen

20 - Harpy's Roost

"We were hoping you knew that, actually," Leo says, his voice laden with sarcasm as he glares at Vienna, who matches his glare evenly.

"Oh, shut up, you morons," Caprice sniffs as she tries to bring the conversation back on topic, but Leilani, who hates Caprice as much as Caprice hates her, interrupts. "Don't speak like that to my sister."

Caprice treats her to a royal glare; Vienna's lips twist as if she's just swallowed a lemon as she says, "Your sister doesn't need you to protect her, in case you didn't notice. Or was it me who got thrown into a tree?"

"You might need ice for that burn," Sagittaria laughs quietly but in delight. Even I have to stifle a smirk, since uptight Vienna would never bite back like that. Not even to Leo, probably because she had no idea how unless she spent a week in close confines with us.

After scuffling a lot, after Nia sang a little more, after Sagittaria and Caprice death glared each other into oblivion, after Ari threatened Gemi's life and Nia floored him with a single kick, Leilani managed to restore order.

This is shocking, but I guess we now know that she definitely belongs in the Alpha Squad. We've walked far too much, and in an hour we're complaining and dragging our feet, but there is something that completely awakens us, slamming into the rock at an incredibly high speed, sending chunks of stone flying.

We all jump back; we've just barely begun to develop the survival instinct all of us so clearly lack. Nia trips into me and I step away, letting her fall to the ground. She shoots me a scowl and I allow myself a smirk. I can tolerate her, but I never liked her. Never will. 

"Shut up and don't move," Miasma whispers slowly and Caprice's face seems very affronted. With a contemptuous snort, Aquaria wraps her arm around Caprice's neck in a light chokehold and claps a hand to Caprice's mouth. Caprice wriggles, but she can't escape her wraithlike sister.

I glimpse something big and dark. And feathery ... is it a harpy? This looks a lot like a place a harpy would live in. I notice Miasma sighing, twisting her lips into a sour smile as the harpy rises. They are a harpy; jet–black skin veined with thin silver lines, a tall stature. A loose white linen robe hangs off the harpy's thin frame. Feathered wings, colored an obsidian–black that shines like oil in the hot sun, hang limply from their back. The face is sharp, pointed, and the short, straight hair that is chopped chin–length — it's a startling white. Amber eyes droop half–closed.

And yet there are many things wrong with this harpy. For one, the wings are missing a lot of feathers ... I can't tell if some of them are pinion feathers. And the silver veins? They're cuts bleeding silver blood.

I step back. Harpies don't have silver blood. Angels have silver blood. I turn to Vienna to see if she knows about this, and I catch a glimpse at Miasma's face, her expression doesn't change as she pulls out a knife with surprising speed and hurls it at the harpy hybrid. It buries itself into the harpy's chest; they don't have time to scream.