Astas

DEON

Definitely a 'yes!' moment when I realized the "To Never Forget" war museum had been abandoned.

Clattering and crunching glass echoes behind us, and I turn my head to find thieves leaping into a corner store's shattered window.

Sparkling particles downpour on us, and I slant my head toward the source. The girl's emitting pixie dust like a broken diffuser. "Come here, princess." I stretch my wing and fold it over Fayra, inviting her closer.

According to the weather forecast, it's supposed to be eighty-four degrees, basically a day full of sunshine. But as I snap my finger for a flame, we can all guess it ain't the case. I cough, carbon monoxide bitching about my lungs. With my feet sunk in muck, I'm hunched, making my hands dance along a metallic chain belting the museum doors in search of a thick lock.

"You sure we should be doing this?" Next to me, small tennis shoes pace on the spot. Fay's wheezing softly, chest puffing in and out. A corner of my lip goes up. This is the cutest fire blower I have seen to date.

"Trust me, we want some accessories at this stage. A little upgrading, doll. Like a fighting video game, just changing gear and leveling up. Nothing to worry about."

I find the lock and give it a nice tug.

"Hold on to my hand." I push the door enough for a slim crack. Before us, a dark narrow alley with monster weapons encased in glass on either side. Fidr's smart, making a profit out of the vanquished, exhibiting the arsenal of the fallen, displaying their defeat... crushing their pride.

Fay's eyes catch mine as I look down at her. The girl's struggling to breathe.

I kneel in front of her, a slight tremble in my breath. Truth is, Tyke's potential wrath is eating at my brain cells. "Fay, what is it?"

"Little asthma. Nothing to worry about." She cracks a smile, which hurts because it's just a facade.

"Is it manageable?"

She nods, and I hope this little lie meets her expectations because I don't have a paper bag on me.

"My weapon is in locker 566, in the storage down the hall, left door."

"How do you know that?" she asks as we jog down the carpeted path.

"Had a drink with a sweet archivist, gave her some, and voila."

Fay chuckles, and I relax for the first time today.

The place's been sacked. There have been others before us, and that's not good news. I look up and notice the sky-high windows that line the room's ceiling have been smashed. So much for contemporary glass window designs.

I hope Artas is still there...

Having reached the far end, I open the archives door and scan the room. It's a stuffy room that smells of mold and mothballs, and it's even darker than in the hall. I shut my eyes, redirecting energy to my horns, which flare up like two torches. Broken, yes. Still working? Absolutely! One might be no bigger than a keratin stump hiding in my mass of hair, and the other standing just about half its size; the tingles of heat on my skull and the flames pitting between my strands tell me they still make the cut. They even bring a smile to my lips upon the orange glow they cast on Fay's skin. It's always nice to shed a little light on the visuals. Especially that one. As for the rest of my surroundings, I'm trying to look at things with a cup half-full as I put a color on the stinky, sticky stuff I just stepped on. Brown.

"Didn't know you could do that?" Fay squeaks.

I flick my tongue at her, the stud on it at the forefront of my teeth. "I can do many things."

She snorts, blushes, and then simply lets her chuckle run free. Her anxiety is rampant—I know mine undoubtedly is. I wanna get out of this place now that I caught the scent of piss emanating from behind two shelving units across from us. Squatters tend to be territorial, and getting pinked with a kitchen knife isn't on my to-do list for today.

I tug Fay's hand, rolling down this labyrinth.

Feet unable to keep up, Fay's wings burr behind me. "What if we get caught?" Caught?

"We won't." We're not important. Thought I was once as a warrior guarding the Delphie gates...

This place resembles a cave of nerdy thieves, chockful of shelves cramped into endless rows, cluttered with parchments, horns?—

I stop, the stone floor wincing as my feet slide. "Hold up, doll." Instinctively, I yank Fay against me and fold my hand over her eyes.

Bile rises in my stomach. On our left, orc skulls, thousands of them, stacked one next to the others till the corridor darkens infernally, and I can't see the end of this nightmare. I squint at this crappy display, reading the tags affixed to the tusks. Archivists have labeled them with location and dates. Nothing but Fidr's hunting trophies. The sick fuck.

And I know Fay caught a glimpse of it by the tears dampening my palm.

"It's the past. Let's move on." Quite a foolish line from me, but I don't know what else to say. "Lockers must be at the far end. Come on." I goad her forth, keeping my hand flush on her eyes.

"You don't need to do that."

"I do. It's for me. You're my teddy."

Between two hiccups, she chuckles a little. Okay. We're doing well. All good.

Our morbid march comes to an end, and the famous lockers appear. Some have been wrenched open, the doors bent; some have been ripped away, now scattered on the ground.

Orcs...

"Deon..."

"Don't be scared. People are simply taking back what was once theirs."

I drop her hand, rushing along the standing units, eyes sweeping over the tags, trying to find my Astas's number.

489.

Blood tingles, hair lifts, heart pumps. Astas's a fine piece—an old friend, a testimony of my past accomplishments, the other thread of my life.

510.

566. My shoes creak as I halt.

I swallow and rub my sweaty hands together. My locker is shut, and fuck, am I dancing inside.She's here.

I hinge my nails into the side crack of the cupboard and force it open, a wince of rust accompanying the motion.

Astas...

I look her up from her tail, runes of my divine patrons running around her long smooth silver limb up to the lethal sharpness of her tip. As if she were a breathing thing, I gently fold my fingers over her leathered grip, the print shaped from years of holding her.

"That's a beautiful spear, Deon."

"Ain't she?" I beam over her awe-struck face. Cute.

"What have you done for it to be stored here?"

I block my gaze on Astas. Swallow. Take two breaths.

Then I turn to Fay, full of smiles. I always smile.

My pulse quickens, words drying up on my tongue.

She's looking at me with an inquisitive eye. Which side are you on, doll? Brainwashed like the others?

"I used to be a Keeper. I stood at the Heavens' gates, warding off darkness." The highest honors of gargoyle kind...

Her eyes widen with a shudder.

I keep on smiling. "Got kicked out for smuggling tailbrine via the Hermes sky route."

"You were getting high in the Heavens!?"

I wink at her. "When the saints tell you to not respond to the cries, even when the world below you is burning, it gets to you."

"What happened next?"

"Another time, princess." Two feet forth, and she tugs on my tail. Cheeky girl.

"Tell me. I need to know."

Alright then... "Within seconds of me taking in what was happening, thousands of us were flung off the ramparts by a light that could only come from our makers. We plummeted. With our wings unable to force back the winds pushing against us, we crashed into a war-torn Orcana."

"You were thrown out because you sinned?"

As I squeeze Astas, I shove my gaze to the floor, silver crimping in my clasp. "Sinning, girl, is watching, within seconds, half of my horde being struck by fae magic and nothing could be done about it."

When I lift my eyes back on Fay, she's pale.

Still, her curiosity is not done with me, and we need to go. "What happened after?" I detect a quiver on her lower lip as she asks.

"My runes awoke." A groan escapes my smile, emotions thumping in my chest.

I hit Astas's tip on the floor and lean, my head diving toward hers. "I strengthened my grip on my spear and began eliminating the source of the killings." My nose tip a needle's eye from hers, I whisper, "And every blood I shed was worth it."

Fay doesn't bulge, doesn't blink, doesn't fret. Instead, she lowers her lip and murmurs what sounds like a command, "Help me find Tyke's."

Pulling myself upright, I smirk to notice she's standing on the right side of the line. I had my doubts. I wasn't pushy about it. I mean, she's a fae, right? A civilian with the highest rank, with full authority over other monsters. Nothing prevents her from selling me short...

Yet, here she is, asking for her boyfriend's weapon.

"You know his locker number?"

"2677."

My head twitches a little, my grin expanding. I wasn't expecting her to spit out that number so fast. "My turn now. How do you know that?"

"Dug a bit. You wouldn't believe the files I had access to. Pretty amazing ones, if you ask." Fay's lips pucker impishly, one eye creasing as if she has dirt on me, still that tear falling discreetly down her cheek...

"Stuff about me?" The fae cop had access to data other monsters didn't—just like all fae cops.

"Maybe." She hugs her wand, and I side-eye her, a bit on edge with her holding this weapon of mass destruction. I should tell her!

"Naughty girl." I cup her face, feigning a tease, my thumb lightly rubbing her tear away.

"Be safe. Nothing prior to your arrest is mentioned. I guess they erased your victim's list in exchange for your service to Faerhan..."

Fay looks like a kid: worried, following, observing, trying to just fit in. She is like all of us. Truth is, we're all still growing up...

I have to tell her. Someone has to. It's a matter of time before she triggers this thing, and I don't want to be the one who takes the hit. "Fay, this wand you're holding. It's?—"

"I know. It's stupid. But just let me pretend it's real. Gives me something I don't have." Fay drops her head, and it feels as if I just walked into the wrong room.

"And what could that be, princess?" My pretense is obscene, a little guilt settling in my stomach.

"Nothing. It's..." She lifts her gorgeous eyes back to me. "Let me just pretend it's real, okay?"

"Sure. No issue with that." I wink, stress like acid melting my insides. Tyke! Yes... Let Tyke tell her. I'll give him the info, and he'll get to deal with this hot potato.

"Let's find Tyke's toy." Sure will alleviate his spirits before I break it down to him. Nothing much. Just short stories about vampires, Fay's solo flights, breaking into government properties, Fay's wand... I scud past this lengthy hall of endless units for locker 2677. It's parkour time, but without monkey bars, rushing, slowing down, reading numbers, running again, picking off at the trail of light. I said five minutes, and I feel like we're already ten minutes behind schedule.

Ah, here we go.

Fay's talons are on me, just as eager as I am to find what Tyke had under the hood. "Found it?" Fay tiptoes, her wings flapping crazily behind her.

"Think I have." I scratch my chin. Sure is a wide locker...

I wedge Artas's tip into the thin crack, exerting all my strength on her as I push sideways, grunting like a beast for the door to give way.

The metal board bends, unhinges, and falls with a clank.

A blonde's head pops into my frame of vision, wings swishing at my face.

I know what she's thinking. Not 'How are we going to transport this massive ax' but 'Who's gonna carry the hammer it's resting on?'

Well, fuck.

"Seems Tyke likes his meat soft and minced."

"He does," she says.

The ax's honed edge is blackened—oxidation doesn't cause that, but old blood, yes.

"A couple of giant-sized butcher tools are exactly what I'm after. I've been lax at the gym lately, so I need to work on my cardio."

I reach for my back, Astas in my hand, and slip her into my top's neck hole. I keep sliding her, the cool of her silver gliding down my spine and falling under the waistband of my pants. I give a little thrust for the tip to tear through my jeans at thigh level. I could strap her on my back, but I don't have a harness, so this'll have to do.

"That's one weapon secured."

"You'll never be able to lift off the ground." She encourages me, not.

"You know very well I'm used to lifting something much heavier." I wave my eyebrows at her, keeping my chuckle down.

Fay, on the other hand, sets hers free. Ah, joy.

I sway slightly to this big axe in my arms while looping my tail around the hammer's grip. I let the latter drag on the floor, my tail incapable of lifting this intimidating anvil.

Fay flutters up and drops a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you."

Assess.

Breathe.

Take it all in.

"Let's fly, princess."

Several minutes ago, Fae dropped her phone on purpose, and I'm not sure what I saw. Talk about what my ears caught when she lifted her eyes on me and said, "Tyke told me to get rid of it. He's coming back tomorrow..."

Aside from the fact that I'm grateful to hear Tyke is done with his mission, I cannot help but struggle to make sense of it all. And it bothers me. Wand. Phone. Now, she's making a rubber band slap against her wrist, repeatedly. Always thought it was a weird-looking bracelet, but I'm not going to ask for more. On the other hand, I think it's time Tyke and I had a word.

We cross a scrim of gray clouds to find a heavily burning GoldFea Sacks tower. And although goosebumps pick up all over my body at the thought of Donna, a part of me is ecstatic at the prospect of landing. I am feeling the effects of the hammer—definitely not a heart warmer.

"Deon, watch out!" There is a tight grip on my arms as Fay spins us. But then her little hands leave me, and I see red.

"Keriloscopa!"

A witch cloaked in black from head-to-toe points at me, holding me under a spell of paralysis or something to that effect.

"Gargoyle, your horns are pricey on the black market!"

"Let him go!"

Fay needs to get out of here.

"Don't worry, small fly. You're next," crackles the wretch, keeping an arm arrowed at me as she whirls around us.

I'm stuck in a levitating bubble, electricity buzzing across my limbs. The shocks are so violent that liquid, hot and thin, flows from my nostrils to my lips. I want to tell Fay to dive down as fast as she can, but I cannot unclench my jaws.

Bang!

The witch gasps, spewing blood from her mouth.

The spell falls as she sways on her broom, hunching low over it.

Backing out of the way, she kicks the air and flees.

My wings are unresponsive, and I drop. No one panics since I'm allowing it. My brain's just fried, and as far as multitasking goes, I'm incapable of it. It defies wings, vision, and bearings. There's just too much information to process at this time.

Streams of clouds pass by me.

''Deon!"

It's okay. I just need some time to get my wits together.

Small hands fumble over my arms, then leave for a few seconds before fingers hinge solidly at my shoulders. "Wake up!"

Shake my head.

Blink hard.

Grunt even harder. Heck, I latch my wings wide and hold Fay close to me."Ready, girl?"

"For wh?—"

My wings fold flat against my back, propelling us toward gravity so we can intercept Tyke's bulky gear taking a free dive toward Third Ave.

I groan like an animal as I take hold of the hammer with one hand. Proud of that one!

I'm on a dopamine rush, wings flapping recklessly. At the same time, my tail stretches to the max as it loops around Tyke's ax's handle, realigning every vertebra. Guess who's gonna cancel their chiropractor appointment... And then, I just thrust and thrust, climbing as high as possible until the air thins.

I halt and hover, sweating profusely. Big intakes. Inhale, exhale...

I bring Fay to my left side, freeing my chest for what looks like a wager. "All good, darling?"

"Just glad I skipped lunch," she whimpers, her face buried in my arm.

"Might not be the best time to suggest pizza for dinner, then," I grunt as I dare to insert this hammer's handle behind my holster's chest strap, the silver head snuggled against my gun, tripling my overall body mass.

I wipe the blood from my nose with a shoulder nudge, pull Fayra to my chest, and tuck my chin down. Peeking under me and the hammer's head, a shaky crown of blonde hair, an arm trembling against the length of my body.

My hand goes for Fayra's, the curve of a gun snug in her grip. The bird took the shot!

Between us, her wand, smeared in blood, cuts into her other grip.

"She didn't want to let you go."

"Give me the gun, doll." I gently fold my fingers over hers and take it.

I toss the thing into the ether, reflecting on today's variety of rain. In ordinary circumstances, I should feel uneasy. The body of a gargoyle splatted on the pavement, for instance. But there's so much crime that everything goes unnoticed.

I cling to her, Tyke's shadow creeping up my spine. It could've been her. "Since when do you own a gun?" My voice against her temple is soft, though inside my mind, it's a riot of questions. Good aim? Nice shot? Brave girl? Why in the actual fuck did you point a gun at me? The bullet grazed my cheek so much I felt it whistle in my ear!

"Tyke's," she mutters, her spasm flowing across us. "Thought you were dead..."

"I ain't dead yet," I whisper. "I'm an undying sod. Hard to get rid of me."

"Smoke was coming out of you!"

"Not the first time, though normally, I'm in front of a movie, a drink in hand..." I study her scowling eyes. Maybe not the best time to crack a joke.

I run my hand through her disheveled hair a few times. I'm bad at saying thank you. It's a blocking mechanism, really. Tried coping, but my dignity always ends up suffering at the end of the day. Then again, there is no shame in admitting she saved my life. "I owe you one, Fay."

"Can we head dow?—"

"Wow, hold on, princess." The adrenaline that kicked in has her fainting as it leaves her. Or maybe my stupid ass flew us too high!

With an arm tight around her waist, I grab the magic object sliding between us and dive.

While speeding down, I can't keep my eyes off this shiny little guy.

In fact, I'm not a fan of it. It might look fancy with a red diamond-shaped stone perched on its head, but it doesn't change the fact that it's the most dangerous object to date.

Why are you in the hands of this fae...