Ugly Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  Bastien threw himself in front of Reyn. I expected the fight to continue, but Baldy stopped mid-slice, as if he was afraid to take a swing at Bastien. “You can’t fight me, Silvain!” Bastien warned as Reyn dodged a slice from the sword that looked heavy but well-wielded. “We were friends at the Academy! You know I’m Untouchable!”

  “Of course I can’t fight you, but you’ve got the Lost Daughter of Avalon! You know Morgan le Fae needs her daughter back. She belongs to our kingdom, not this world. I have my orders.”

  “Then Morgan can come up here all by her little self and fight me for her. Funny how the Lost Daughter’s been missing for twenty-one years, but Morgan only just sent out her soldiers to search for her. You know she doesn’t care about the girl. You know she only wants her because she’s The Compass.” The two circled each other, making half-moves on the other to see who would lunge first. Bastien looked primed to strike, but Silvain held his sword back almost in surrender.

  The words stung me; I’d been trying not to think those very same thoughts. Why had my mother waited until now to try and find me? I understood why Bastien and Reyn were trying so hard all of a sudden. Their friend had gone missing. But I’d been lost from my mother and father my whole life. Why now?

  “You don’t want to do this,” Bastien said, a note of pleading in his voice when Silvain turned his attention to Reyn. Bastien didn’t sound afraid of getting hurt, but more wary of how badly he might have to hurt his old Academy buddy.

  Silvain gulped. “Then don’t make me do this! Give me The Compass, and I’ll leave you be.”

  “You know I can’t do that. If Morgan gets her hands on The Compass, the people don’t stand a chance. You’re fighting for the wrong team.”

  “And you’re just fighting. Same Bastien you’ve always been. Fighting on the losing side just for an excuse to use your fists.” Silvain’s puffy lips curled into a snarl. “Be glad you’ve got your Untouchable status. You don’t want to know how strong I am since taking the Queen’s Loyalty Oath.”

  Reyn was at his best when smiling, but as he looked on Silvain with utter sorrow, I sensed there wouldn’t be much optimism left after the showdown. “Be reasonable, Silvain. You know Morgan’s behind the attacks on the Duchesses.”

  Silvain shook his head in exasperation. “Why would she turn on her own sisters? You’re just like the other crazies, talking up conspiracies just so you have something to be mad about.”

  It might’ve been a valid point, but Bastien was done talking. The Musketeer knew how to use his sword, but Bastien knew how to fight dirty. He went wide with his jab on purpose so he could twist around behind Silvain and stab him with his dagger from behind. It was so quick, I barely saw the whole dance.

  I would’ve thought that’s where Silvain would be munching on concrete, but apparently these Avalonians were made of tougher stuff than the average Joe Human. Reyn lunged to stab Silvain through his stomach, but Silvain shook Bastien off of him and dove for Reyn, nicking him on the arm and drawing blood. Bastien sprang forward to help Reyn, his knife still buried in Silvain’s back, leaving him unarmed.

  I didn’t know the odds on the next college basketball game, but I could guess the odds on a fight between a kamikaze soldier with a sword and an unarmed guy who didn’t understand the terrain like a native. Bastien was in a vulnerable position now, and I wasn’t about to let that stand.

  Silvain took another swing at Reyn, but ended up slicing Bastien’s bicep. Silvain paled, as if cutting Bastien was a crime he was unwilling to commit, but cutting up Reyn was fine and dandy. It was hard to understand the politics of these people. Bastien didn’t cry out at the offense, but he let out a deadly growl as he crouched like a wrestler, ready to pounce. That was all I needed to spring into action.

  I ran toward the fight, swinging the tire iron like a baseball bat, letting loose a satisfying crack to the back of Silvain’s skull. I jerked the knife from his back on an angle, knowing I didn’t have it in me to stab a person, but that I could cause a lot of damage taking out the blade if I pulled to the left where a vital organ lay waiting. His right lung was no doubt praying I would pass over it and leave it unscathed. The tip snagged on something on its way out, and Silvain screamed as I slid Bastien’s knife across the concrete, returning the weapon to its owner.

  “Get back!” Bastien shouted, running Silvain through the gut with his knife just as Reyn pushed me out of the way to cut a slit across Silvain’s throat, spilling blood out onto the pavement, and coating Bastien’s hands in red.

  Bastien’s face mutated from warrior to little boy in the time it took Silvain to collapse in Bastien’s arms. Bastien lowered his old school buddy to the black pavement, shushing him like a father comforting his child. Silvain choked with wide eyes on his own blood.

  “Are there others coming? How close are they?” Reyn demanded, standing over the two. We all watched with identical grim expressions as Silvain gave us a terrified nod.

  Silvain was now beyond being able to talk, and probably past the point of understanding anything but the fear and the agony that painted his scarred face. Bastien was on his knees next to his old friend, clutching his fist while Silvain struggled out a few last gurgling breaths. Then I heard Bastien whisper something that sounded like a rehearsed prayer. “‘Beyond the clouds there lies a home for the brave at heart to rest and roam. Your weapon’s sure, your body best, but now you’ve earned a warrior’s rest.’” He closed his eyes as Silvain’s last gust escaped his quivering lips. Then he went still.

  Reyn bent over and smoothed Silvain’s eyelids shut. Then he pried Bastien’s hand off his friend, so he could drag the body over by the small clearing of trees to conceal the carcass to keep it from view when the sun rose again.

  Bastien looked lost, forlorn in his grief. I couldn’t even begin to understand the pain that must come with having to kill a man you knew and had palled around school with. I dropped to my knees, and though I didn’t know Bastien all that well, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug I knew he’d never ask for. Bastien slumped into my arms, allowing me to hold him together while he tried not to fall apart in the middle of the parking lot.

  14

  Hamish’s Nutty Adventure

  Bastien had killed his friend for me. Trying to keep me safe. Me. I’d cost him a friend.

  “You were so brave,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his temple. “I’m sorry it had to go down like that.”

  Bastien didn’t answer, only let the grief wash over him in waves as I held him. When Reyn came back, Bastien was pulled up into his friend’s strong arms. Reyn gripped him in a hug that possessed more years of understanding and compassion than I could throw together on a dime. Bastien’s arms remained at his sides, permitting the hug, but not returning the affection. It wasn’t until his eyes moistened that Bastien’s hands wrapped around Reyn, squeezing as he let out a muffled shout into Reyn’s shoulder. It was beautiful and horrible to watch, so I turned my face downward as I stood, taking in their injuries and reasoning that we probably needed a needle and thread.

  I spun on my heel and went back to the office, snaking the keys to our room back off the hook when I saw the receptionist was nowhere in sight. I walked until I found the utility closet, opening it to find the maid’s cart, stocked full of the things I would need. I grabbed a few sewing kits, bottles of water, soaps, shampoos, mints and anything else I didn’t have a use for just then, but might down the road. I didn’t have the guts to turn on the light in the utility closet, so I squinted in the dark until I found a first aid kit. I swallowed my guilt at the theft and ducked out of the closet, making my way out to the guys and motioning for them to follow me back to our vacated room.

  When the door closed behind Reyn, his voice was quiet but firm. “We have to leave.”

  “I know. Let me patch you up, and we can hit the road. It won’t do to have you both lose more blood on the way.”

  Reyn pulled his shirt over his head to inspect t
he damage. There would be a few bruises by morning, but my concern was the gash on his arm. I opened the kit, pulled out the antiseptic and sorted through the bandages, guessing Reyn’s was probably not deep enough to absolutely need stitches. “We can probably get away with this, if that’s okay with you.” I held up a larger patch bandage, and he nodded.

  “As quick as we can, then.” Reyn held out his arm, hissing when the bite of the antiseptic spooked him. “Is it supposed to burn like that?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot your medicine might be different than ours. It’s cleaning out the cut so you don’t catch an infection.” I cleaned out his wound and stuck the bandage on. I’d had worse on the soccer field, so I knew he’d be okay.

  Judah stood watch, peeking out the curtain to make sure Silvain was the only one who’d followed us. His fingers were quivering on the maroon material, and I could tell that whatever LARPing expectations he’d had for this journey, he wasn’t prepared for seeing an acid-deformed man get stabbed by two otherworldians, and bashed over the head by his BFF. He’d seen me in fights before, but he always looked away. He’d never had the stomach for it, which was probably a good thing. I’d had my locker vandalized too many times with the meanest graffiti, that I’d lost the ability to turn away from a fight that was aimed in my direction.

  I decided right then and there that I wanted more for Judah. He wouldn’t be crossing over into Faîte. No, he would stay here and have a nice summer. He’d sort things out with Jill. He’d paint and geek about graphic design. He wasn’t meant for bashing people over the head. I wished I wasn’t, but that seemed to be the mud I was stuck in. At least Silvain hadn’t spray-painted “Retard” on my favorite hoodie while I was in gym class. I still remember the feel of Shannon McJeski’s nose breaking beneath the wrath of my emotional fists when that whole mess went down. That was back in junior high. I was calmer now, after years of yoga and self-defense classes with Lane. I knew to pick my battles. Now I only fought back when acid-torn men came out and tried to snatch me up. Progress.

  Bastien’s cut was far deeper than Reyn’s, and still seeped a few drops through his ruined shirt. He didn’t look at me as Reyn and I helped him work his flannel off his shoulders, nor did he say anything when I gently tugged the white t-shirt beneath over his head. I gasped when I took in the damage done long before he’d found me. I couldn’t even focus on the wonder that was the hard body of the seasoned warrior shirtless, so many were his scars. There were angry slashes across his chest in patterns of three, looking like claw marks from a vicious animal. He looked like he was a creation who’d been opened up and sewn back together badly, and too many times to count. Bastien had scars on his forearms that stretched in a wave over his shoulders. There were a few that looked as if someone had tried to tear off his collarbone. I forgot all about his grumpy jokes and saw only the terrifying figure that made me want to run and gawk simultaneously. He had thorny tattoo swirls that attempted to cover over some of the worst of his scarring, but it was clear that Bastien’s body had been through just plain too much.

  My fingers traced over a particularly deep scar that looked like it had been sewn on the fly across his heart. His intake of breath told me he wasn’t used to having his bare skin touched. It took me a minute, but I steeled myself and looked up into his caramel eyes, whispering, “Ouch” to him in lieu of something that might actually help.

  Bastien caught my wrist and turned his head slightly from side to side, telling me with a hard expression not to ask questions, not to pity him, and not to linger on his pain. My heart thudded unnaturally, and though I wanted to listen to him tell me about each scar, I knew he wasn’t going to talk. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I turned to his bicep. He didn’t hiss through the sting of the antiseptic. He didn’t flinch at the stitches I’d only ever done on animals and myself before. He didn’t look at me once while I wrapped the bandage on his arm, preferring to remain lost in his grief over killing his friend.

  I took a chance and moved into his body space, coiling one arm around his waist. I knew Reyn was watching from the doorway of the bathroom, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be there for Bastien, to shoulder some of the burden he was intent on carrying in silence. His palm lifted to rest on the small of my back, participating in the hug as much as his gruff demeanor would permit.

  I pressed my ear to the scar over his heart, confirming the steady metronome of the organ. It was still there, buried beneath the fights that seemed to keep finding him. He was an acerbic butthole, for sure, but he’d let me hold his hand while I slept. Perhaps I didn’t need to hear the gong-gong-gong of his heart to know it existed.

  He dropped his hand and stepped back, unwilling to look at me. It wasn’t until I tried to work his t-shirt back over his head that he snapped back to life. “I got it. Jeez. Go mother someone else.”

  I took a step back, bumping into Reyn, who wore a matching frown to mine. “Sorry. You just looked a little out of it.”

  He shoved his arms through the holes and rolled the material down his torso, covering the scars. There was a hint of self-consciousness that made him turn surly, like he hadn’t wanted me to see his body. He had that same cagey way about him that I’d worn in the locker room when girls would gawk at me while I changed to get a better look at my hump. I didn’t want to be just the ugly girl to people, and judging by Bastien’s self-protective glower, I could tell he saw himself as the ugly boy because of his scars.

  I should’ve known he’d bite. Most wounded animals did. “I told you to get in the car and lock the doors, didn’t I? I didn’t need your help murdering my friend. That one’s useless, but at least he listens.” He motioned in Judah’s direction.

  “Are you serious? I think the thing you’re searching for is ‘thank you, Rosie.’ You’re welcome, Bastien. You’re welcome for not leaving you to die on the pavement. And don’t you dare run Judah down in front of me.”

  “I killed Silvain because of you! Don’t you get that? If not for you, he’d still be alive. And I don’t need your help for anything other than finding Roland. That’s your one use. Not hitting people on the head. Not stabbing my friend in the back. Find Roland. That’s it.”

  I blinked, stepping back as if his words had grown a hand and shoved me. “Look, I didn’t mean for your friend to come after me. I’m sorry, okay?”

  Reyn tucked me behind him as he moved back into the small space, glaring at Bastien while I set to cleaning up the tools from the counter with shaking hands. “You want to blame someone? Blame Morgan le Fae. Blame the oath her battalion took to serve her until death. Don’t tear up the girl just because she saw your scars. You did the same thing to Rachelle when she saw them. You yelled so loudly, she cried for a week.”

  “Who’s Rachelle?” I asked stupidly.

  “My sister,” Reyn answered at the same time Bastien said, “My fiancée.”

  My head snapped up to Bastien, shocked at this new information that colored my minuscule attraction to him in a new off-limits light. “You’re engaged?”

  “I’m a whole lot of things that have nothing to do with you. Be The Compass. That’s your one job. Not mothering me. Not hitting my friends in the head. Find stuff, that’s all.”

  “You need to go cool off, brother. It’s enough.” Reyn pointed his finger toward the door imperiously, one hand on my arm to keep me distanced from the anger.

  Bastien seethed at Reyn while I finished gathering everything up and all but ran back to the car, Judah in tow. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tear Bastien a new one. I wanted to strangle him so he’d stop being such a pill and just deal. But I knew that some people just couldn’t change, and it was hopeless to try and make them see reason. It may sound like a silly straw to let break the camel’s back, but a camel can only take so much. Judging by how easily Reyn pinned Bastien’s verbal swings, I guessed this was too frequent an occurrence for me to try my hand at combatting.

  Judah was my soothing balm. “Don’t listen to him, Ro. He�
�s a jerk who’s pissed about losing his friend. You did the right thing, helping like you did. I wish I’d thought to do that.”

  I let Judah’s pat on my back serve as the hole I wished I could crawl into so I could have a minute to recuperate. “Thanks. Let’s just get this over with.” We walked out together, hand in hand. I shoved the contraband into the trunk, and then made my way to the driver’s seat.

  “I don’t think so, Hot Mama. You drove across who knows how many states. My turn.” Judah was firm, and though I wanted to argue, part of me knew I had no reason to. If I could catch a few more hours of sleep in the back, that wasn’t something to sneeze at.

  “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Pimp Daddy.” I slid into the back, finding my coffee at the perfect temperature. “Here. You’ll need this more than I do.” Now I wouldn’t stay awake for hours, mulling over how my mom wanted to find me so she could use me, and the guys rescuing me from her only wanted the same thing. I was a tool, nothing more. I’d worked so hard to be more. I studied more than anyone when I’d lived in the dorms. I passed on parties and staying out late with the guys so I could earn a degree. Now I was missing my finals, which would cancel my scholarship for sure. I might still pass most of my classes, thank goodness, but it would be a hard road next year.

  If I made it back. If they let me come back.

  I looked out the window to Bastien, whose head was bowed over the bushes where Silvain rested. Reyn looked like he was saying a prayer over his body or something. “Judah, can you see if there’s a phone charger up there? My battery’s pretty low.”

  “Sure.” Judah fished around in the glove box and found a car charger that matched my phone’s model. “There we go.” He plugged in the device so I could call the one voice I used to trust above all else. The one who’d lied to me about pretty much everything.