Filth

FAY

Two green eyes stare at me without blinking—a twinkle in them, sly and sneering.

It's an elf, a female. She's decked out like Tyke, wearing the same black commando suit splattered with mud at the knees and thighs, the muzzle of her strapped weapon peeking behind her shoulder. "Is there someone named Tyke here?" She has this southern accent, melodic and rustic.

"Tyke?" I repeat hesitantly, tying my sweatshorts in a peculiar tight knot, suddenly regretting this stupid compulsion to answer the door. Tyke is back, and I sure feel more at ease, but that was pure stupidity on my part—my social reflexes are out of control! What if she knows about Tyke's plan and is here to arrest him?

My chest thumps, sweat beading in the crease of my palms, the string of my shorts soaked as I clasp it.

The elf looks me over with a derisive slant of the face, the soles of my feet nervy, enough they tread on the spot when I detect a slight scowl.

She doesn't know me, and I can tell she hates me already, the shadow of her brow bone merging with the iris of her eye. "Tyke," her tongue coldly clicks.

"No... There's no one named Tyke here."

Barks erupt, then a growl I never heard longs at my back.

Grunting, she drops herself on the doorframe's left side, blood trickling down her boot, drenching the doormat. "Is that so?" she asks, pointing behind my back.

"Bell." Turning around, I find Tyke, a collar in his grip, the beast under wallowing to get out of it.

"Easy!" Tyke struggles as much as our dog, but finally succeeds in locking Cerberios into my bedroom. The claws tearing at the door or the barks don't stop, though.

"What's with Cerberios?"

"Doesn't like visitors."

"There's someone for you at the door," I mutter under my breath.

"I know, bug. Let me handle this." He pushes me behind him with a steady hand, and I don't resist.

As I browse her from behind Tyke's back, this stranger spurts out, "You said ten minutes. Ten minutes!" A purple tinge creeps over her cheeks.She catches my stare, and my throat tightens. "Obviously, I was expecting a thirty-minute wait, because we all know orcs can't keep their?—"

"Bell," Tyke cuts. "Come inside and stop shouting."

Her chest heaves as she scratches the side of her blueish throat aggressively before stomping in.

This Bell focuses on me again, and this time, I hold her gaze. Snarling, I show off my teeth. It was a smile, but I changed my mind at the last minute.

"Sergeant Bell Vine, by the way," she scoffs, swishing mud in the flat as she spins on her heels, handing me a dirt-covered gloved hand.

This is one of the most formal ways a female has ever introduced herself to me...

I seize it. "Fayra," I mutter as we shake hands. "But my friends call me Fay." Keep smiling, Fay.

"I'll call you Fayra, then."

If Tyke's fingers hadn't shifted up my shoulder, I would have forgotten they were wrapped around me or that he was even there. "Bell, be kind to her." Why does he have to tell her that? I don't like her, either, and my feelings won't change if she's an obnoxious piece of work with me.

"Finally, a face to the name." Her expression shifts from offensive to friendly in a second, and that's when she winks at me. What a talented actress... Even so, it won't reduce my snarl.

Then she clamps her arms around her waist and snarks up at Tyke. "I've been waiting for fifty minutes. Then, maybe I don't know... spent another thirty minutes knocking on people's door like religious folk selling witchcraft books. It was so much fun. Thanks for that, by the way." Her gaze lingers on him, eye-fucking his body. "Glad you got to change. And thanks for not offering a shower."

Tyke closes the door without forgetting to glance left to right in the corridor. Something's off. "Fay, get her some water, please. I'll get the others."

"The others?" I ask, clinging to the hand that leaves my shoulder.

He clasps the whole of my grip in a cocoon made of fingers, and my pulse lowers. "We're all gonna leave together, bug."

A normal me in a broken world would've wanted me to say, "Why? Aren't we supposed to elope?" but the world is not only broken, it's dangerously decaying, and to simply imagine leaving without Donna and Deon has adrenaline taking rounds on me.

"Why?" I glimpse at Bell, speaking aloud my low-grade thoughts in my place.

"Because I decided, sergeant." Tyke takes off, leaving me alone... with her.

I comply, flying up to a cupboard and grabbing a glass. I place it above the sink—desperately, I want to fill it with burning-hot water to scald her face as she leeches my back with her uncalled-for gaze—and fill it up with water.

"So, you're his famous fairy?" Her voice is a coalescence of something glassy and slimy, like iron shards crusted in fresh cement.

I turn to see Bell standing an inch from me, all smiles. "Nice wings, by the way." She flicks some of my pixie dust off my shoulder, freeing her sniggers. "That's a lot of magic particles we have here."

I don't move, don't smile; the glass hangs in the air, unmoving.

This girl's a troublemaker.

She doesn't even take the water; instead, she starts roving around the flat. "Glad to put a face on the lucky one he's been bashing my ears with." She struts along the couch's backrest. I observe her hand stroking the top of the cushions, and I clench my teeth to find her fouling the fabric with her filthy glove. She then flashes her sneaky eyes at me as she halts. "I've heard so much about you, you know."

"Strange," I jest back, "I have no clue who you are." Is she trying to intimidate me?

Wings leap me at her and, as I land, hit the glass against her chest, splatters of the liquid splashing on her. "Here. Water," I drawl, mimicking her accent.

Her eyes are defiant as she slowly takes the glass from my clutch, takes a few sips, then rasps, "Can't control it?"

"Control what?"

"This magic. I recognize the Evariss vibrations in it. Ain't that part of the royal bloodline?"

My ribs collapse and tense. I don't like what she's implying. They were traitors, and I'm certainly not part of that kind. She crinkles her smile like I'm going to mirror her playful expression. "Funny, I thought all the Seelie aristocracy was dead."

"Bell Vine!" Both Bell and I turn toward Donna's door, Deon fuming behind it.

"You two know each other?" Donna. She's not too happy, and by how she growled, she must be covered in a nice pelt of fur.

" Let go of me, Tyke. I need to greet someone!"

"Not before you calm down." It's too early for a fight. I cannot have another confrontation. One was enough... Bell meets my gaze again, sharing the same tired, yet conflicted eyes.

"You!" Deon shoots out of Donna's bedroom door, a look of rage etched on his face as he lunges at her. Tyke's struggling to pull his wings back, which gradually slips from his grip as they thrash.

"Remember the gargoyle we talked about when flying on Magnus? You even called him a prick, Tyke. Guess what? You're holding the wings of that very prick," Vine says, snarking at me as her fingers dance up her weapon's strap.

While Deon flounders his way out of Tyke's hold, Donna unlatches one of her masts from the wall. "Fay, get away from her!" she shouts.

I don't think twice and run for a kitchen drawer, pulling out the first knife I see—a chef's knife. At the time of purchase, its label stated that this knife is perfect for slicing, dicing, and chopping all types of vegetables... so probably even elf guts.

"Deon, she's on our side. Contain yourself." This is the first time I have seen Tyke sweat holding someone back.

"Traitor!" Deon shouts, wings bursting wide as he sets them on fire.

"Duhkal!"Tyke lets go of him, slaps his thighs, probably to cool off his hands.

I swivel my eyes to Bell, who swiftly grabs her rifle. "Missed you too, honey," she snickers.

"Fay, grab your toy and come behind me," urges Deon, who's taken the stance of a predator about to pounce.

Snatching my wand off the surface, I turn to find Bell aiming at Deon, a corner of an eye slipping toward me.

In a flash, Tyke steps in front of Deon, coughing as he clasps the left side of his ribs. "Everyone, hold on," he groans.

"Gargoyles can't lie, Tyke," grunts an especially monstrous Donna, twirling her mast in her fleecy grip like a cheerleader's parade stick.And I frown. Where is this dexterity coming from?

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Everyone halts.

Our heads bob up to the flickering.

In a pulse-like manner, the lights go on and off rapidly. The TV automatically starts.

We all focus on the screen as the national anthem plays in the background as a video clip shows a Faerhan military parade.

"The light is back," I breathe.

A dry pop is heard as the refrigerator and freezer turn on simultaneously; Bell seems to jump from it and readjusts her weapon on Deon.

"I saved your life by stopping you from getting killed." Bell's cheek is dripping with tears, her grin disturbing. "Do you know how much it cost me to keep you alive?!"

I'm stepping back because it's too early for an Elvexican soap opera. My fingers clip on something hard and cold while my back presses against the kitchen island. My mother's wand...

"Greetings, Faerhan citizens..."

Fidr? The camera zooms in on her face, the white of her eyes blending into the pale color of her skin. Her smile is sharp, her teeth sharper, and I shudder to find two upper canines I swore I hadn't seen during her last public appearance.

"What is going on?" I hear myself asking.

Fidr's white lips move, a spiky purple crystal crown on her head, shining like icicles under the sun as she moves.

When did she start wearing a crown?

"My beloved people, these are strange times. There are factions and dissidents financed by Queen Daki, which have troubled our country, but rest assured, we will remain strong in the face of adversity."

"Look at her. She's now blaming Queen Daki for the shit she's created!" roars Donna.

"As you might have read in the press a little while ago, I have a surprise for you. Well, the project for a massive magic center in Faermont has now been completed and is ready for public disclosure."Fidr pauses, a purple tongue sliding across her lower lip as it widens in a full grin. "I hope you like it."

The cackle that follows turns my blood to ice, and my knife drops with a clank.

"Indeed, to bring peace to Faerhan once and for all, I have decided to remove all magic from Faerhan monsters. Some of you might have noticed that you have been chipped for a magic census recently. This tiny device in your skin shall free you. Monster magic is worth sacrificing for the greater good. There will be a time when you will thank me for it."

I turn to Tyke, Deon, and Donna. "This is not Fidr. This can't be!"

They all seem to take deep breaths, as if I were a liar or delusional. "It can't be!" It cannot!

"A little warning, though. You might feel tingles and some may even experience death. But this is the sacrifice I am willing for my people to pay for the price of peace." Fidr's chest heaves, nostrils flaring as her smile remains unmoved. "I have other good news to share. Two of my former court members have been arrested and sentenced to death. Faerhan can finally have closure." She braces a hand across her blazoned chest, her face steepening but not her eyes.

Lips below slide into a disturbing smirk. "Harmony and Loyalty."

The frame changes from Fidr to...

"Fay! Close your eyes!" No matter how strong Tyke shouts or how his scent wraps around me as he holds me, I cannot forget what I saw...

He lifts me in his arms, thundering, "Let's go. Now!" I've never heard Tyke raise his voice before, never.

In a matter of a second, everyone's rushing about. Deon racing to his spear. Tyke keeps spinning on his heels, allowing me to grasp Donna, at the window, shouting, "There's something in the sky!"

"Deon, open Fay's door. My dog is inside!"

Everything is moving fast. I barely catch a glimpse of Tyke seizing his ax, as an instant later, his feet frantically move to the door, my vision swirling from the building's corridor to the living room to the corridor.

I watch my world collapse.

Listen to the cries, hushed breaths, barks, the panic.

Glimpses. Images spinning. Gasps. And I try piecing everything together as much as I can.

Inside, Deon patters to the windowsill where Donna is hunched over the edge. "The Helbenixon residence is surrounded by an entire squad of military personnel! This is some evacuation, right?"

Tyke's head whips at them, hand dropping right in front of his hammer as he's about to seize it. It wraps over my head as if scared it could fall.

His boots continue to grind against the threshold as he paces in and out of the flat, thoughts seemingly disjointed. "Get your stuff and get out."

Tyke's grip firms as he spins us to face a frenzy of wings and fur pushing from the window. "This is all my fault," he whispers quickly.

"Yep." My breath becomes shallow upon realizing Vine picked up Tyke's faint voice. "That is, if you're right about panicking." Her foot glides forward before giving in slightly as she places herself in the middle of the room. "Guys, calm down."

In response, Donna stomps toward Vine, her snarl halting an inch from her face. "Military is storming inside the building, elf!"

"It's just an evacuation assistance. We should wait for them. They will bring us to safety."

Donna runs to her bedroom as her snout snaps, "Even I have more common sense than a SWAT member!"

"Bell, insightful reflection," spits Deon while heeling Donna. "Why don't you stay behind and tell us about it when you're dead."

Within seconds of the two leaving, Vine aims a strange grin at Tyke. "That's what you get when you listen to your dick, captain."

I expect Tyke to retort. Instead, his head lowers for a murmur, "I'm sorry, Fay."

His chin, gentling against my forehead, triggers me to weep. "You need a reason to be sorry." And I clutch his neck, clinging hard as my face grovels against his throat.

But even that is robbed from me. The warmth of Tyke's breathing leaves as his head turns toward a duet of scuttling feet coming our way.

Holding two backpacks in his grip and Astas in the other, Deon pours his stern face over me and blows, "We're ready, bro."

Tyke's jaws clench. "Roof. Now."

My legs tingle until I cannot feel them anymore. I'm buried in a fast-beating chest, this one rumbling, "Faster!"

No matter what is happening around me, I just can't get the images out of my head... or of Fidr's cackling laughter...

Hanging corpses.

Wings of a Tree Fairy...

Blood dripping down her graceful legs...

My father...

Bodies of my everything swinging in the void...

"Pup, bring whatever meat you have." Tyke is worried; I can hear it in his voice. Animal. Defensive.

His arms tighten around my bones and time seems to still.

Mother... Her last words..."I cherish your life more than my own... You are the root of my root and what has always made my flowers bloom. I knew from the moment I looked at you that you were my heart's heart. Ensure your safety, no matter what. Promise me."

Foundations of who I am...

Broken.