Page 23 of Echoes in the Void

DOLION

The world flashed around us once, then again. Long enough for the bar to come into view, blood that wasn’t mine to splatter my hands mixed with a fine coating of ash, for Tifa and Ash to shout at each other, and the world to disappear again.

I stood in a darkened hall, breathing in dust and stale air outside a locked door while my fallen star ranted and raved on the other side in a tiny room. Sebastian would heal on his own. She’d checked on him briefly, made sure he wouldn’t die, before she ran. And hid away from the world for failing him, and herself.

Tifa was scared. Just as I had been at the graveyard, but that didn’t mean any of us blamed Ash for what had happened. That was on the demoness alone and maybe us for turning our backs on her when we knew better.

And now we wore the scars of her wrath. Or at least, one of us did.

“Steorra.” I knocked softly after a minute. “Please let me in.”

The ranting stopped. “You said she was a risk tome. Not to him.”

“She was always a risk to all of us. To everyone.” I rested my knuckles against her door. “Please, will you unlock this?”

She fell silent. A flash beneath the doorway and a smattering of ash across my bare toes—still pink, though some of the paint had begun to wear away—and she arrived next to me. Her sunset orange dress hung in tatters. The edges were singed, the center smeared in blood and sins that didn't belong to her.

I held out my arms and she fell into my embrace, sobbing. “I am sorry I didn't protect you better,” I whispered, taking her to the ground with me, where she curled into my lap, trembling and shaking.

Heat seared me, her tears boiling my skin. It was warning enough to bring on my change. My skin hardened to my stone form a second before the world whitened out again. I sank back into the darkness that I’d remained in for so long, taking refuge in my stone state, not knowing if she stayed with me or not, letting my Steorra burn herself out against my gargoyle form.

I retained my stone form for far longer than I would have normally, unsure how long she would need, but when I returned to her, my fallen star shivered in my cold embrace, her body coated in ash that smeared her all over. Around us, in a shattered radius, the third floor of the convent bore burn marks in a circle that rippled right across the hallway and up the walls.

Time didn’t pass the same way for me in my tone form as it did for her. I didn't know how long she had burned for, alone, but I held her as she shivered and shook and cried, until she finally opened her eyes and stared up at me, all of her heart break right there to see.

“He could have died, and I could have saved him. All because I. Was. Fucking. Flirting. With. You.” A great sob tore through her throat. She coughed into her hands, bending at the waist with the force of her grief.

I caught her chin, winding my body around hers. “But he is immortal, ma Steorra, and he did not die. No blade of the demoness’ can end his life.” Other things might, but not that. Not so simple. Anitta liked to play with her toys before she ruined them, but Ash didn’t need to know that right now.

“I should have fried her. Like I said.” More sniffles arose as I stroked her hair and sighed.

“And hurt everyone in the vicinity in the process. Which is why you did not flash fry the bitch.” I waited.

Her lips twitched against my chest. “Did you—” She cleared her throat. “Did you just use modern slang?”

“I did. Do not expect to hear it again any time soon, Steorra.” I laughed softly. “Now, may I clean you, please? You are… dusty.” I patted her rump. A puff of ash filled the air.

“That was all you, stone man, not me.” Her muffled laughter came from the realm of my armpit.

“If you say so, Steorra. Are there washrooms in this place?”

She let me carry her into the staff bathroom along the hallway, leaving her scorch mark well behind.

“I hope the staff don’t come up here ever again. They already think this hallway is haunted as all hell,” she muttered, rubbing her cheek against my chest.

“I’m sure with your flashing lights and flame and smoke and ash, there is little chance you haven’t assisted the mouth at some point. Steorra,” I murmured, placing her under the old faucet and turning on the water. “Is this how it works?”

Jets of rusty water poured over her body as she shrieked like a banshee. “Fuck, that’s cold! Off! Off!” Ash clawed at me, pulling herself out of the russet colored puddle that mixed with the soot covering her body. The colors melded in a red and black spiral as she pulled her ruined dress off her body and tossed it away.

“Ahh—” I stared at the other faucet. “This one?”

Ash grumped at me curtly. Water streamed down her face, her hair hanging in damp strands across her cheeks. “Step away from the shower, Dolion. Your rights have been revoked. Wait. Have you not been showering since you arrived? Filthy gargoyle,” she berated me under her breath.

“Sebastian has a spa tub with a mix tap,” I offered helpfully.

“Amixertap,” she corrected me.

“Yes. One of those.” I nodded, smiling. “It’s much easier.” I mimed pulling the single silver bar outward and quoted the vampire who more than likely had not healed by now and quoted him, complete with the little finger actions he favored. “‘Set and forget’.”

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