ParaWars Uprising

by Caitlin Greer

  A seraph plummets past us, locked in struggle with what looks like a harpy.

  “Axel.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Kendry.”

  I shake my head. “Yes, I do. I just need to know who to shoot.”

  He sets down my ammo, and helps me set up in the small parapet while he talks. “The gargoyles that went with Grittanus are still wearing his favorite black uniform. The rest of us are wearing whatever we want. You’ve got a scope, you’ll be able to tell the difference. The seraphim and nephilim are ours, as are the dragons. So are the gryphons & phoenixes. The rocs are split. If you see one attacking one of ours, have at it. Be careful of the quetzalcoatls—”

  “Wait, the what?”

  “Big winged snakes. Mexican. And watch out for the jubjub birds. The jabberwocks are ours though.”

  A scream above us interrupts him. I let off a shot before I’m even sure what I’m shooting at. It explodes in a shower of metal feathers.

  “I hope that wasn’t one of the good guys,” I say, as Axel pulls his sheltering wings away.

  “No. Not a good guy.” I enjoy the smile tugging at his mouth. “Watch out for the djinn, and obviously the demons.”

  “Djinn? Really?”

  He opens his mouth to answer, but pulls me down instead, as something rockets past us. “Shoot at anything that looks like it doesn’t mean you well.”

  Hunting horns call out in the distance, echoing between the mountains around us. They stir something in me, some memory I can’t place but know I should be able to. I shake my head, and stroke my trigger as a harpy dives at us. I don’t know what Buc put in these bullets, but there’s not a whole lot left of the harpy after it hits. I turn back to Axel, but he’s staring off below us.

  “What is it?”

  He points, and I lift the rifle so I can use its scope. “Your father. He’s called out the Wild Hunt.”

  Sleek white hounds pour out of the castle gate. I can’t see from here, but somehow I know they have red eyes, and razor sharp teeth. Riding in the midst of them is my father. Herne, the Master of the Hunt, his stag head tossing as he rides the coal-black stallion beneath him. I shudder as the pack drives into the enemy paras. There’s a primal fear that rolls through me at the sight.

  A stone hand pushes the scope away from my eyes. “Look away, Kendry. You don’t want to see that.”

  I nod, and take a deep breath to clear my head. “Let’s do this,” I say, wishing it sounded twice as hard-core as it comes out. But Axel smiles anyway.

  “Like I said before. Keep them off me,” I whisper, as I lay my rifle on the wall.

  It doesn’t take long for them to notice me. A few well-placed shots, and they start looking for the source. Pretty soon, I’m too busy shooting to think, because they’re coming after me. My first clip lands at my feet as Axel tackles the winged demon diving for me. A second comes before I can reload, but the 9mm Buc handed me has his special ammo too. The demon goes down while I’m grinning, staring into the box of extra ammo. All tidily preloaded into banana clips.

  It’s hard not to love that man. Minotaur. Whatever. Both of them. Buc and Sam are definitely getting something good for Christmas. If we make it to Christmas, anyway.

  Axel’s demon flies over my head. My 9mm finishes him, and then the rifle is back up, and taking aim. A harpy goes down in one shot. The djinn takes two. Another for the roc about to shred one of the pegasi. I lose track after that. I line up the shots, stroke the trigger. Reload. Repeat. Try to make every shot count.

  The sun starts to sink.

  I target the creatures carrying boulders. Axel was right, they have been dropping them on the castle roof, trying to break through. I manage to drop a few on them, instead.

  I’m swapping out my fourth clip when a shrill shriek cuts the air. It’s deafening, and brings my headache roaring back. The sky is starting to darken. I’m scanning everywhere I can while my hand reaches for the next clip. But whatever it is, I don’t see it.

  The shriek comes again, making me fumble the clip. It clatters on the stone beside me, but I barely hear it. I feel like there’s something wrong with my head.

  “Kendry!”

  Another shriek, disturbingly shrill. It drowns out Axel’s voice. It’s everything I can do not to set my rifle down and cover my ears. And then I see it.

  I memorized The Jabberwocky for my drama audition one year. All it says about the jubjub bird is to beware it. I can see why. Its eyes rise up from below my rampart, burning bright above a beak so sharp it could put a samurai sword to shame. One stroke of powerful wings brings it above me, hovering. The beak so-sharp-it-gleams opens, and I know I should find the clip I dropped, know I should shoot. But the sound comes again, and I cringe, frozen.

  Axel tackles me as the jubjub lunges. We hit the stone with my ears still ringing, and the whole rampart shakes. He pauses long enough to make sure I’m okay, and then he’s up, dodging the jubjub’s slashing beak. The thing is enormous. I can’t tell what color it is, because it shifts, blending in and out of the fading daylight. I can’t really even get a good look at it, which is weird, because I can’t take my eyes off it.

  Axel finds an opening, and dives. His fists batter the giant bird’s head. He seems immune to its shriek, which has me paralyzed. I keep trying to shake it off, with no luck.

  The jubjub manages to escape Axel’s hold, throwing him off into the air. My hand finds the trigger of my 9mm as its eyes center on me again, its mouth opening for another shriek. I manage to let off a few shots before it deafens me again, but they only seem to make it angry. And then Axel is back, pounding on the back of its head, twisting at it.

  Shrieking in rage, the jubjub bird throws its wings left and right, around, over, and into me. Claws dig into the ramparts, crowding me almost out of room, and options are few. Against the wall seems better than the open air, but end up trapped, unable to escape the flailing wings. Turns out its feathers are as sharp as the beak and claws.

  The pain is good, though. It breaks the siren spell of fear and anxiety projected by the jubjub’s shrill cries. It wakes me up.

  Two things come into sharp focus. The bird’s not going down, even as strong as Axel is. And the sun is about to disappear, which means Axel is about to become a lot more vulnerable, thanks to the already risen moon. The jubjub’s sharp feathers and talons and beak will shred his flesh faster than a blender.

  The jubjub screams again as it catches sight of me. It lunges forward, blade-like beak snapping at me. The stone below me is guaranteed to bruise later, but it’s far preferable to losing an arm, or even my head. The small parapet becomes a lot smaller as the jubjub stabs its beak after me again and again. I roll around, desperate to avoid it, while the sun creeps lower and lower. The moon’s already high. Time is running out.

  Axel’s voice cuts through the jubjub’s noise, rising in his own scream. I look up at him, arms wrapped around the bird’s razor-feathered neck, the stone muscles in his arms and neck bulging, wings fully extended and beating hard as he drags the head away from me.

  “Dammit, Kendry, shoot it!”

  Where the hell is my rifle?

  The jubjub fights hard, wings everywhere, feet everywhere. There’s not enough room for its struggles and for me, and with the flying feathers of death and stomping claws and crumbling stone, I can’t find my damn rifle.

  “Kendryyyy!”

  His voice is straining with desperation, and I’m getting frantic. And then I see it. Caught between the jubjub’s frenzied steps and the rampart under it. I glance at the mountains fighting for dominance over the sun.

  No time.

  Wing sweeps, I duck low. Claws rise, fall, and rise again. I watch, take a breath, and roll. Grab the rifle. Claws fall again, too close, knocking me off balance. I fall, pulling it into a roll at the last minute. Grab the clip I dropped trying to load it before. The claws miss me again. The wingtip doesn’t. I don’t feel the cut, just the hot blood running down my arm. And t
he stone below me as I tumble into it.

  The sun flashes its last light.

  My back hits the hard stone.

  Axel screams, wordless, straining.

  But the rifle is in my hands. I jam the clip in. My finger strokes the trigger, once, twice, and again.

  First two shots hit the body. Axel lets go when I shoot, his wings carrying him away. The jubjub thrashes. The third shot goes stray, and the beak zones in on me.

  One more time on the trigger, from my back. Can’t miss the target looming large in my view. Buc’s special ammo rips into Lewis Carroll’s nightmare vision, through the mouth and into the head. The shifting and changing colors of the jubjub expand and scatter.

  It rains crystalline feather daggers.

  Oh shit.

  I tuck into a ball on my side, hoping to minimize the damage, hoping the daggers might miss, or at least miss anything important. Instead, they miss altogether, impossibly, because Axel is there, wings wrapped around us both.

  The sun’s last light fades.

  Above me, Axel’s body shifts from stone to flesh, in burning coals trailing across his skin. I unfold my body, and he wraps himself around me. For a handful of heartbeats, that’s all I want.

  To breathe in the safety of his arms.

  Hunting horns sound in the distance, calling us back. My father’s horns, and the baying of his hounds. Axel lifts himself up, pulling me to my feet. Around us lie the scattered remains of the jubjub, feathers that still shimmer with a not-here-ness, a hardness neither metallic nor crystalline, but somewhere paranormally in between.

  “Step careful,” he whispers.

  The skies around us are clearing as darkness descends. Below, the Wild Hunt returns, streaming back into the castle like baying white ants. Two phoenixes blaze a trail of fire through the enemy’s camps.

  “What happens now?”

  Axel’s eyes are far away. “The night-going paras will take over the fight. We need to get you inside, and fast.”

  “What do you mean? Why?”

  His eyes are darting from side to side, watching. “I mean you’re bleeding, and far too many of the creatures that hunt the night will be attracted by that. You don’t want to meet them,” he added. “Not the ones fighting us.”

  I know he’s right, and I can feel the fatigue seeping back in. But as soon as I push away from him and grab my rifle, I miss the closeness of the moment. Still, I smile at my rifle. Mine, because Buc’s not getting this baby back. But I think he knew that. I sling it over my shoulder and go for the ammo box, but Axel is already there, box in hand. He seems suddenly awkward again, and so do I. I don’t know where we stand, anymore.

  He leads me back to the room with no windows, dark but for the light of a single candle someone was kind enough to light. I unload the weapons Buc gave me without a word. It’s so strange, going from imminent danger and possible (even likely) death, to this uncomfortable silence. My head is all in a tailspin, thanks to the all-too-familiar and very annoying exhaustion that’s been my companion way too much of late. But we won today, I think. And I fought. I did something. That’s important—to me, at least.

  “Axel—”

  “I’ll be outside. Get some rest.” His back is to me.

  “I’d rather you stayed…” I reach out for him, my fingertips touching his back.

  “I can’t,” he whispers.

  I am way too tired to do this. “Dammit Axel! Fine. Leave, then. Get out.” The tears running down my face are hot, matching my temper. I’m sick of this, sick of being worried over, sick of not being good enough. Sick of being treated like fine china.

  Sick of the sudden distance between us, and sick of not understanding it. “Go to hell, for all I care.”

  His hand freezes on the doorknob. I can see his jaw working again. “I’m sorry, Kendry. I told you. This isn’t the time.”

  “Why not? And what does that even mean?”

  “It means I can’t. It means we’re in the middle of a war, and you’re the prime target. It means,” he leans on the word like he’s clinging to it, “that what I want doesn’t matter, because all that matters is keeping you safe.”

  “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

  “Dammit all to hell, Kendry!” He spins, and his darker-than-night black eyes burn with anger. “Protecting you is my job!”

  “So I’m just a job, then. Tell me, do you kiss all your jobs? Is that how this guardianship thing works?”

  He roars. I know I’m pushing buttons. I don’t care. I’m over this whole hot/cold/whatever thing. Either he’s my friend, or he’s my guardian, or he wants more, but I can’t keep bouncing between the three.

  “You know you’re more to me than just a job!”

  “Do I?” I’m really getting up steam. “One minute you’re hot, the next you’re cold. You give me the best freaking kiss a girl could ask for, and then you won’t even look at me! How the hell am I supposed to know anything?”

  “You’re supposed to know, because, because… Mo anam don diabhal!”

  I don’t know what his last words mean, and I don’t care. Because whatever it means, he’s kissing me again. His arms lock tight around me as his lips crush down on my own, and it’s like we’re right back in the storm. I can’t get enough of him.

  My arms are pinned to my body, but I don’t care. I care about how his chest presses against mine, about how his mouth is firm and insistent. Devouring. His tongue pulses against mine like he can’t get enough, either. Like he’s drowning, and I’m oxygen.

  And when he finally pulls back, it’s like he’s restraining the jubjub bird all over again. Like the effort to hold himself back takes everything he has. But now I’m the one gasping for air, even as he rests his forehead against my own.

  “I…” He moves slowly, his vice grip on me gradually releasing, until it’s nothing but his hands on my arms. I still can’t find my breath, I’m so sure he’s going to bolt. But he doesn’t. His touch, shockingly gentle after his assaulting kiss, slides up my arms, thumbs running over the cuts from the jubjub’s wings. They sting. I can feel them bleeding a little. One hand rises to trace a cut I didn’t know I had on my face, under the cheekbone. His black eyes are endless pools of emotion, staring deep into mine.

  “One thousand, six hundred and thirteen years. That’s how long I’ve existed. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, beliefs change again, and again, and over again. Seen magic and mystery overrun by science and technology, and curiosity fade slowly from the world.”

  His hands continue to move along my arms, and his eyes never leave mine. But his accent has thickened again, and I finally pinpoint it. It’s Irish.

  “I’ve seen too many wars to count—human wars, para wars. Throughout all of it, we’ve remained hidden. The world around us changed, but never us, never the gargouille, the guardians.”

  I’m frozen by his words, by the intensity in his eyes. And honestly, I’m a little scared to know where he’s going.

  “We guide, we guard, and we go on, always the same. My kind are gan teorainn agus shíoraí. Endless and eternal. We do not love, we do not reveal ourselves. We do not die. All my life, I’ve known these truths. And then I meet you. You, who destroy every preconception I ever had about love and life. Your fire and devotion make my head spin and turn me inside out.

  “I am the worst person to be your guardian, Kendry. I can’t stand to see you hurt. To see you in danger,” he continues, his voice a hoarse whisper, and his eyes shutting tight. “I can’t be around you, because all I can think about is how badly I want you.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell him I’ve been a little in love with him since the day he first dropped into my clearing. So I don’t say anything. Instead, I run my hands up his chest and kiss him slowly. He doesn’t move, he hardly breathes as my lips touch his, as I dip the tip of my tongue in his mouth, as my teeth pull at his bottom lip. It isn’t until my fingers tangle in his hair t
hat he moves. And then he moves with me, lips and tongues and hands, and I don’t want to stop. I don’t want him to stop.

  But he does, quickly pulling me away.

  “Kendry…”

  I can’t help it. I whimper at the need in his voice, the gravelly, desperate way he says my name. “Axel, please… Please don’t stop…”

  He groans, like he’s in pain. “If I don’t stop now, it won’t end until we’re in that bed and I’m buried inside you.”

  My grip on him tightens. “Good.”

  And that one word is like throwing gasoline on a flame.

  For a moment, for half a breath, he pauses, but then he’s caught fire with me. My skin burns at his touch, my fingers burn to touch him. Flesh and blood. I can feel his heart racing, keeping time with my own. My hands slide under his shirt, eager for him. The shirt’s gone in a blink. Our kisses are frenzied, drinking at each other’s breath. I have a flash of memory, his muscles bulging and straining as he pulls the jubjub away from me. Those same muscles twitch under my hands now, long and strong and able.

  I want more of him. I want his skin on mine. And it’s like he’s reading my mind, because both of us reach for my shirt, yanking it off me, and he’s pulling me impossibly close. His big hands slide up and down the skin of my back. His tongue caresses my mouth. My body is pure electricity under his touch, and I am incurably addicted.

  Somehow, we find the bed. I don’t remember moving, I just know that I was standing, and now I’m not. His weight settles on me, heavy, but exactly right. His lips leave mine to travel down my jaw and neck. I’m like a live wire as he kisses my collarbone and shoulders, and keeps moving lower. His hands hold my sides, above my hips, thumbs digging into me, pushing me down. My own hands tangle in his hair, holding him to me.