A Flight of Broken Wings: Aeriel Trilogy #1

Chapter 95

The phone rang. "Ruban Kinoh speaking."

"Ruban! How are you? How're Hiya and Ashwin? Is he awake yet? Are you alright?" Simani's anxious voice came through the line. "Didn't I tell you to call me every few hours?"

Ruban cringed. Simani knew about Zikyang, of course. Everyone did. It would have been impossible to hide the fact that an entire forest had burned nearly to the ground overnight; or that Ruban's car had been on the site of the incident, along with the charred corpses of four Aeriels. The media had attributed all the kills to him, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it helped cover up Ashwin's role in the whole thing more easily than he had anticipated. And a curse because he had been inundated with requests for interviews and appearances from every reporter and producer in the city – not excluding the redoubtable Casia Washi, who now seemed to believe she had an exclusive copyright on any scrap of news that involved him or Ashwin.

"I'm fine, Sim. Stop worrying about me, will you? Ashwin's still out but Hiya's keeping him company with Black Beauty and whatnot. How's the investigation coming along?"

She also knew about his injury – it wasn't the sort of thing you could hide from your own partner, after all. He ached with the desire to tell her everything – about Ashwin and Reivaa and all the goddamned Aeriels and all their goddamned schemes. And it wasn't that he didn't trust her. She was one of the only people alive – apart from his uncle – whom he would trust with his life without a second thought. But knowing the truth would put Simani at risk – both from the Aeriels and from within the IAW itself – and he wouldn't allow that until he at least had an inkling of what was really going on. At the moment, nothing about this case made any sense to him, and things only got more complicated the more he thought about them. He needed more information before he could share the truth with Simani and Vikram.

Besides, if he was being honest with himself, Ruban wasn't entirely sure how to tell his partner that there was an unconscious Aeriel on his bed with a wing ripped to shreds, who had rather casually killed his own kind to save him and Hiya. He hardly knew how to process that himself.

Simani sighed. "We hardly know what we're looking for, Ruban. One of the Aeriels who attacked you at Zikyang was identified as Saekaa. It was one of Tauheen's closest lieutenants and one of the Aeriels Ashwin had said could use flare-blasts. The rest we couldn't identify. Might just be they'd never been in the system. Apart from that there was Reivaa, of course. But there was hardly enough left of her for an identification – not that she'd ever been in the system. I wish I could've seen her wings, though. Were they really like in the picture?"

"Yes, really." Ruban could feel a headache coming on, and he pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, stifling a groan. "Look, Sim, I'll call you later, alright? There're some things I need to see to–"

"Don't push yourself too much, Ruban. You should be resting right now. Your injury–"

"Is getting better, okay? I told you, Sim. Stop worrying about me. It's just a little research. I'll be fine."

"It's always just-a-little-something with you. Promise me you won't do anything reckless, Ruban. Please. And promise me you'll keep me posted. And give my love to Hiya. I'll come around the flat as soon as I can."

"I promise. And I will. See you 'round Sim."

He needed some fresh air, Ruban decided. Not to mention some fresh perspective, if he could find it. And staying cooped up in the flat certainly wasn't doing him any good. Talking to Simani had made him realise how far into his own head he had retreated. It wasn't his strong suit – introspection. Ruban knew himself well enough to know that he was a doer, not a thinker. He was far more comfortable with action than with ideas, especially ones as vague as the things that currently crowded his mind.

He walked to the sink to rinse out his cup. The limp was getting better by the day; the doctors said he'd be back to normal by the end of the week. He barely even needed painkillers anymore.

Bracken, he decided. Bracken was where he would go. Dawad was the man he needed to talk to. He would know about the subject, certainly much more than Ruban did. Perhaps he would even be able to shed some light on the mystery that was Ashwin. Plus, he was a foreigner living in Vandram on a work visa – as far away from the IAW and any sort of classified information as it was humanly possible to be. In a strange way, this made him more trustworthy than any of Ruban's compatriots at the moment.

His pulse quickened with the sense of newfound purpose. All this time, this was what he had needed – a direction, an opening. And now he had it.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said, looking in on Hiya. The girl had abandoned the book and had now shifted her attention to a Rubik's cube that looked like it was one forceful twist away from falling to pieces.

Her tongue stuck out between her teeth in singular absorption, Hiya nodded vaguely, not looking up at Ruban.

"There're some snacks in the fridge if you're hungry. I'll make lunch after I get back. And call me immediately if Ashwin shows any signs of waking up, do you understand me?"

"Uh-huh."

"This is not a joke, Hiya. And it's not optional. I mean it. You call me if he so much as breathes funny, roger that?" he said, using the slang he knew would get the girl's attention.

"Roger that!" Hiya said, looking up from her cube and nodding enthusiastically. "You'll bring cake?"

"I always bring cake."