Flight of the Golden Harpy by Susan Klaus Page B

talk.”
    *   *   *
    After supper, Charlie excused himself. He walked outside and the dogs greeted him. He wanted no part of the coming conversation between father and daughter. Would they be honest? He loved John and Kari, but knew their hearts and differences. Though Kari hadn’t admitted it, she still carried a torch for the golden. Ten long years on Earth hadn’t extinguished the flame, and the harpy sought her in dreams, proving he still longed for her. Such a bonding would be disastrous.
    Before long, John would figure out his daughter was still devoted to the harpy, and then he’d kill it, ending the threat to Kari. The fragile father and daughter relationship would forever be destroyed. They were too headstrong in their convictions with no middle ground.
    Charlie foresaw the coming conflict, and all his advice to John and Kari would fall on deaf ears. He was an old man caught in the middle. He walked through the meadow under a star-filled night. The two wolfhounds walked alongside, wagging their tails.
    *   *   *
    John and Kari settled in the living room. John poured a glass of wine and offered it to Kari, but she declined. “You don’t like wine?” he asked. “Didn’t they teach you the finer things in life on Earth?”
    “Is it a finer thing? You seem to drink more than I remember.”
    John seated himself across from her and took a sip. “I suppose I do, but it helps me relax.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’d like to clear the air tonight.”
    “I’ve been thinking all day about our morning conversation. It’s understandable why you hate the harpies.”
    “I’m as much to blame as the harpy that went after your mother. When I saw him put his hands on her, I was filled with rage. I wasn’t thinking. Normally, I’d have set the gun to stun, and your mother would still be with us. I’ll take this guilt to my grave.”
    “Dad, it was just a terrible accident.”
    He gulped the last of the wine and stood up. “It was no accident that harpy tried to take your mother.”
    “Why do you think he wanted her?”
    “To force her to bare his offspring,” he grumbled, and poured another glass. “Those goddamn harpies.”
    “Is that what other women have said when they were taken by a harpy?” she asked quietly.
    “Other women?” he said, puzzled. “Most women are never seen again. The few that have been rescued can’t speak—their minds are gone. They usually commit suicide.”
    “Maybe they’re like men, and there are good and bad harpies.”
    “Kari, they’re not like men. They’re wild animals. It’s like saying there are good poisonous snakes and bad ones. They’re all poisonous, all bad, all dangerous.”
    “But the golden who saved me,” she argued. “You were even grateful to him.”
    “I knew he’d come up. You were a child, Kari, and he was too immature for breeding. His wing length proved he was a teenager and pretty naïve. I still can’t believe that nervy young rooster ruffled his feathers and confronted my men even after a round was fired at him.” He massaged his chin. “He probably saved you and risked his neck since he planned to take you later. It might have been a big mistake, protecting him from hunters all these years.”
    Kari grew nervous and changed the subject from the golden. “I heard in Hampton that no women have been kidnapped in a long time.”
    “That’s Hampton. The harpies have been exterminated in the east. But this is the outback, and there are plenty of flocks.” He gazed at her with a sudden realization. “You’re trying to come up with excuses to defend these creatures.”
    “I’m trying to understand,” she said. “The golden kept me alive. It doesn’t make sense he’d hurt me.”
    “He’d hurt you, Kari. That son-of-a-bitch would put you in his nest in a tall tree where you couldn’t escape and then rape you over and over until you lost your mind and were pregnant. You’d be a vegetable, producing his male