Blood of the Fallen

Chapter 1: Axe

I hate getting shot.

I had taken a stray bullet to my right arm a few patrols ago. Supernatural creatures, we call them myths, are still commons. Their lives are enhanced, or burdened, with supernatural features.

Would you believe guardians are occasionally called to settle disputes between myths who cling to old rivalries? I used to hate being a Keeper in gang territory. Luckily for us, we were moved out of the War Zone district - it's an inside joke - and left the warring myths to be calmed down by some other guardian pack. As of September, we officially deal with mad myths only, not myths who turn back to their common roots and familiar pains.

My eyes focus on my hair and I bit my lip hard, eyes narrowing. Why won't this curl-

I scowl, "Fuck me," as I pull my hand away from my hair. I shake out my right arm, wincing as the familiar pain resurfaces. My eyes go to my hair just to see one curl falling out of place, flopping over. It lays between my eyebrows like a wet noodle. It's a good thing I'm patient.

"Axe?"

I look away from the mirror to find my best friend, blond, blue-eyed, and lean Isaac St. Clair peeking in on me. Isaac can wear everything but sweats. He smiles at me, fully dressed in the Keeper getup: the (usually) black jacket and blue jeans.

The jeans are made of Skin (what Ty, my leader, calls werewolf skin) and they fit like ordinary jeans. The jackets fit well, too, despite the thin but tough werewolf skin on the outside. Both the jeans and jackets are lined on the inside with werewolf fur to help us stay warm during battle as we lose blood. The Skin jacket resembles a leather jacket more than your casual jackets made of cotton. A Keeper would literally freeze to death in those. Cotton is useless when it comes to going on patrols.

"What's up?" I ask as I grab the gelled curl and shove him in place with the rest. I reach for the blow dryer and arch an eyebrow at Isaac.

He's second tallest of us all, beaten only by Ty, and he leans against the doorframe while I aim the hot air on the curls above my forehead. His fair blond, platinum-streaked, hair covers his eyebrows and almost shields his clear, pale blue eyes. I don't know how he can deal with his hair in his face like that. He is rubbing the lenses of his glasses clean with a small chunk of his shirt. He almost never wears them. Being marked with pure moonshine enhances eyesight and it takes a while for it to wear off after a patrol. We had been on call a few days ago, so it's been long enough for Isaac's eyesight to go bad again.

I cut the dryer off, wincing at the heat, and touch the gelled curls. They're in place. I look over at Isaac. "What's up, Clair?" I ask as I unplug the blow dryer and place it on the counter.

Isaac shrugs. "I hear Lucy's going to be there. Harper told me."

His words stop me cold. I gaze at him as I process this. Luciana Snow, one of my childhood best friends, has been gone since she was nine. She left for Common World after Alex died. Alexia was my older sister and she had been appointed to be the leader of our group after Cynthia Lentwood, Lucy's godmother, retired from Keeper life in 2003. In 2007, we were attacked by werewolves on the way to throw Cynthia a surprise dinner and for the only time in my life, we were completely unprepared to take them out.

Alexia died that night and the group struggled to stay together for the next three years before finally splitting in 2010. Lucy's parents realized they could only stomach one of their children being a Keeper, and they decided that Lucy had to move in to Common World with Cynthia the year before the group split up.

"What for?" I ask, turning back to the mirror to stare through it. My hair is the least of my concerns now. "Is she . . . ?" I trail off, unable to complete the thought. My stomach churns, almost overpowering the urge to smile. Part of me doesn't even want to consider it.

"I don't know." Isaac murmurs. "The marks are fading again, making her remember things. At least, that's what Cynthia is telling us."

"Figures." I say. "Cynthia should have used pure moonshine. Weak moonshine is, well, weak."

"If I was supposed to keep someone from knowing about werewolves and whatnot, I would use pure moonshine, too." Isaac says. I glance at him to see him pull away from the door frame to cross his arms. His eyes lazily drift over to me and he shrugs. "I guess she hoped that Lucy would know the truth one day."

I tuck my hands into my pockets and turn to Isaac. "Do you think she'll ever tell Lucy about us?"

Isaac opens his mouth to speak when I hear Constance's voice calling us into the living room. Isaac turns to go and I follow him into the living room....