Christine Feehan: Air Bound

It was the first time Airiana could really defend her mother. She had tried, but no one had listened to her. Her sisters were listening. They believed her. She could feel it, see their understanding on their faces. After her mother’s death, with the help of these women in the room with her, she had learned to have fun just as her mother wanted.

“Why would they lie about her? Why would they smear her name and act as if she was capable of betraying her country when she wasn’t? What was the point?”

“Perhaps they thought it would make you more loyal to them,” Blythe ventured.

“It had the opposite effect,” Airiana said. “I detested them. I wanted out of their program but I had no relatives, nowhere to go and no one to advocate for me.”

“And you blamed yourself for your mother’s death,” Lissa added.

Airiana nodded, tears burning behind her eyes. “I know intellectually I’m not to blame. Debra and the rest of you did a good job convincing me, but that child, that teenager, she believes that if she’d stayed home and never went to school, never was crazy smart, her mother would still be alive.”

“Your mother made the decision for you to go to that school, Airiana,” Blythe said gently. “A seven-year-old could not make such a choice. You both needed the money to make ends meet, and I suspect your mother was already beginning her downward spiral into alcoholism.”

“Her mind wouldn’t stay quiet.” Airiana found herself defending her mother. “Alcohol was her only relief.”

“That’s the child talking,” Lissa said. “You know that.”

Airiana nodded, a little appalled that she still blurted out a defense for her mother, even when she knew better. “I know Marina should have gotten help, but she didn’t, she turned to alcohol instead. Still, if I’d gone home several times a week instead of just weekends, she might have tried harder for me. She didn’t start really drinking until I was already into my teens. I didn’t even ask to go home more often because the more uncomfortable it got there, the easier it was to bury myself in my work. If I’d just noticed how hard it was on Marina and was even a little bit more compassionate . . .”

“You were a child, Airiana. A teenager with a mind that was demanding more knowledge every moment of the day,” Blythe said.

“Now, looking back, I never said anything to my teachers about what my mother was doing because I was afraid they would keep me from seeing her—but they must have known. Right? They wouldn’t have me working on the kinds of things I was without continually vetting my mother.”

“Which is why you believe there was some kind of conspiracy and your own government murdered your mother,” Lissa said.

Airiana nodded, biting at her fingernail. “I know it sounds insane. Maybe I think too much. I rarely sleep that well and I told you, my mind works on problems all the time. My mother’s murder never added up for me. Even if a foreign agent came in contact with her—and how would they know I was at that top secret school—wouldn’t it make more sense to wait for me to come home and then grab me? I would have told them anything they wanted to know to protect her.”

Lexi nodded in understanding, tears welling up. “We do anything we can to protect the people we love.”

Airiana put her hand gently over Lexi’s. “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“I’m upset for you, Airiana,” Lexi insisted. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense to murder your mother over money for your work when they could just as easily have grabbed you.”

“So what happened?” Blythe said. “With your project?”

“I wasn’t finished, not nearly finished. They took me back to the school and essentially I was ‘locked down’ for my own protection. They didn’t let me see anyone other than a psychiatrist they brought in. I didn’t talk to her. I stopped working, and everyone was upset and in an uproar. The psychiatrist tried to tell me throwing myself back into my work would be good for me, but I told her I couldn’t think, that the trauma of finding my mother like that had done something to my mind. I just couldn’t cope.

“At first they thought I was being stubborn, you know, a teen trying to outwit them, but in the end, after endless cajoling, threats and talks, they gave up. I don’t know if they were convinced I really no longer could do the work, or if I just was too much trouble, but they released me just before my twentieth birthday.”

“And we found you,” Lissa said with great satisfaction. “You and Lexi are our little sisters and we’ll protect both of you. This is a safe place.”

Their farm had always felt safe—until now. Airiana hugged herself tightly. Fear clawed at her belly and bit at her throat until it swelled and she felt as if she was choking. She needed to get to work, to smell the compost and feel the morning fog on her face just to block out the feeling of trepidation growing in her.

There was no real way to convey the feeling of danger to the others. They believed no one in their government would commit such a horrendous act—torturing and murdering a woman so they could keep the daughter isolated and alone, working on a project that could change the world.

In spite of the excellent counseling she received, there was no way to ever get the sight of her mother lying on her bedroom floor covered in blood from her mind. That image was stamped there for all time and no one had ever been caught. As far as she knew, the investigation had been dropped once she was back at the school. She’d asked numerous times, but they simply told her that Marina had been selling information and it was best Airiana not be involved for her own safety.

“Do you think the murder of your mother had anything to do with the murder of Damon’s assistant?” Lissa asked.

Blythe shot her a look that told her to back off, but Airiana was grateful to Lissa. At least someone wanted to try to piece together the puzzle with her even though it might hurt. She knew Blythe wanted to protect her emotions, but Airiana wanted to know who had killed her mother and why.

“As far as I know, Damon’s assistant died nearly two years ago. My mother’s death occurred a good six years before that. Nearly seven. So how could they be related?” Airiana asked aloud, but her brain was already working. Click. Click. She could feel and hear the pieces of the puzzle being put together.

Why would Damon Wilder suddenly want to talk to her? There could only be one reason. He had been given her project all those years ago to work on. That was the only answer. He had come to her school once. He must have been one of the people who had knowledge of what she was working on. She had refused to continue with her project, and the government wasn’t about to let something that promising go by the wayside. Damon had to have been given her work.

She closed her eyes. Her project had been worth killing for. Worth torturing other human beings over. She had created it, or rather the beginnings of it, and most likely Damon—and maybe a few others—had finished her work . . . or . . .

She bit her lip hard. Or maybe they couldn’t finish it and Damon wanted to talk to her about it. Why else would he suddenly be interested in her after two years of knowing she was living close by? Had he come to Sea Haven because he’d known? Now her mind was really going crazy with the possibilities.

“Airiana?” Blythe said her name gently, calling her back to them. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to talk to him, or to anyone else, about anything having to do with what I used to do. It isn’t that I’m unhappy because I didn’t have a childhood, I wanted to be there. I loved learning. I loved what I was doing. But I know that whatever my brain was conceiving turned from something good to something horrific.”