Dashing Devil Omnibus 1: Books 1-3, page 5
Her heart sank when Hopewing saw that Cobolto was not alone. Iron Masher, a typically good-natured boy, waited beside Thunder Fist halfway down the next hallway. Thunder Fist was one of Cobolto’s cronies, who’d taken part in bullying Boyd before. The tension in the air was palpable, and Hopewing’s heart raced when she deciphered their plan – they meant to attack Boyd.
Before she could react to warn him, Boyd’s fighting instincts kicked in. He whirled on Cobolto and lunged at the smaller boy, striking out with surprising ferocity. The fight unfolded rapidly, a whirlwind of motion and intensity. Hopewing’s angelic instincts urged her to intervene, to shield Boyd from harm, but as she watched the battle unfold, she hesitated.
Boyd was a fighter, strong and capable. He moved with a fluid grace that she could watch for hours, each strike purposeful and efficient. There was a fire in his eyes—a determination that burned brighter than she had ever seen. As the clash continued, Hopewing’s jaw dropped in awe.
She had watched Boyd in training. She had witnessed his strength and his resilience dozens of times, but this was different. This was a fight born of desperation and pain, fueled by a need to prove himself against those who judged him unfairly. Every punch he threw, every dodge he executed, told the story of his struggle and his unyielding spirit.
Hopewing’s fingers clenched the edge of the corner she hid behind, her heart torn between wanting to support Boyd and recognizing that her unexpected aid might do him more harm than good. She scanned the unfolding chaos, searching for a pause where she might intervene and lend him her healing touch, but Boyd’s movements were too fluid and too precise. Her instincts told her that, for whatever reason, he had to do this on his own.
As the scuffle reached its crescendo, Boyd’s strength and determination prevailed. He dispatched his attackers with a speed and finesse that left Hope breathless. Cobolto’s arrogance was laid low. Iron Masher lay broken, crumpled in a heap on the ground, and Thunder Fist suffered the verbal lashing she was sure he would gladly have traded places with either of the other two for, accepting the rougher treatment they’d received in its place.
In a matter of moments, Boyd stood victorious, his chest heaving with exertion, his gaze fierce and unyielding. Hopewing’s heart twisted as she watched him straighten, his body language seamlessly shifting from combat-ready to casual. She felt rather than heard the gravelly edge in his voice, the calculated shift he’d made to unnerve his defeated opponent.
The words that followed, though laced with mockery, hit Hopewing with a pang of sadness. Boyd’s words held a bitterness that ran much deeper than surface taunts. They pierced her empathetic heart.
She recognized the source of his bitterness immediately. He was ten times the Hero as the next best in their training group, yet he was constantly told he would never be a Hero because of his Changed appearance. That no matter how hard he trained, how exceptional a warrior he forged himself into, he would forever remain unwelcome amongst those who bore the title of Hero.
Hopewing’s gaze remained on Boyd, noting the way his gaze intensified, his glower stern and unwavering. Somehow, she found it simultaneously kind and encouraging. It was a stark reminder of the complex emotions that ran beneath his fierce exterior. The aftermath of the fight had its own kind of justice, a harsh lesson for those who dared to challenge him.
Even now, after being assaulted for the simple crime of being a Changed who dared to be a Hero, he wished to better his opponents. They would one day be Heroes. Nothing would hold them back, unlike his own bitter row to hoe. Even as they hated him, he sought to make them better—if only for the sake of the civilians they would one day protect.
Boyd’s words carried the weight of authority, an undeniable expertise in combat tactics. And yet, underneath it all, Hopewing sensed his unease. Here and there she caught glimpses of the turmoil that lurked beneath his sharp observations.
She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to offer him her comfort and reassurance. Unfortunately, the walls he’d built around himself were high, thick, and nigh impenetrable. Her heart ached when she saw him struggle to maintain his composure, hiding the vulnerability he so adamantly shielded from the world. Her chest tightened when Boyd turned to leave, the disappointment in his voice almost tangible.
That was when Hopewing had stepped out from her hiding place and approached him. Thunder First had the gall to request healing for his bullying friends, which she’d denied. The ward could take care of them, albeit more slowly and with the potential of certain risks and… consequences.
Hopewing maintained the right to use her Power as she chose, the same as any other Powered.
Boyd’s voice cracked with reluctance in response to her request to aid him, revealing a vulnerability that Hope had rarely witnessed. He refused to meet her gaze, his reluctance to accept her presence palpable. Her heart ached when he dismissed her attempt to reach out to him.
His words cut deeply, despite his attempts to soften them.
She just stood there, frozen in place as he turned and walked away. The ache in her chest grew with each passing moment, with the ever-increasing distance between them. As Boyd’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, Hope let her tears fall freely. She let her heartache and longing for the boy who refused to let anyone close wash over her.
With a sniffle, she turned away, wrapping her wings around herself like a protective embrace as she let her own vulnerability show. The pain of his dismissal cut deep, and it left an ache that resonated within her. She knew he had not wanted to hurt her; that however painful it was for her, he did not act maliciously.
Ultimately, she knew it was a misguided attempt to protect her. Knowing, however, didn’t help; it didn’t make the pain any less. She could only hope that someday Boyd would open up, that he would accept the love and support that was offered to him—including hers.
Feeling emotionally drained, Hopewing made her way back to the room she shared with Silver. That the two of them shared a room was a kindness the Mentors had extended to her after a close call almost left her in the hands of Powered Criminals. Boyd had been the one to come save her, who had thwarted the attempted kidnapping.
That had been the night she realized she felt more than a fond friendship for the recently Changed boy. She was so shy, however, that it still took a major effort to say more than a few words to him—let alone the things she ached to tell him. Instead, she watched him in silence. Rarely did she speak to him, though she always tried to stay close enough to be there for him should he—by some miracle—ever ask for her help.
She’d had difficulty sleeping alone after that, and her good friend Silver’s presence helped. Hopewing was permitted to add a second bed to her room, as well as to keep an additional bed in Silver’s room. Sometimes they slept in Hopewing’s room, while other nights they slept in Silver’s. Tonight they were sleeping in her room.
Her heart heavy with the burden of unspoken emotions, Hopewing entered that space. She immediately took comfort in the presence of her dearest friend.
“What happened!?” Silver asked, darting across the room to wrap Hopewing up in her arms.
The younger girl’s freely flowing tears that had only just subsided burst forth anew as she clung to her closest support. “I… it… it was Cobooolto again,” Hope sobbed into her friend’s shoulder.
“Oh, Sweetie,” Silver soothed, “I know it’s hard but that’s nothing new. I’m sure Boyd handed him his ass.”
“I… I… I-ron M-Mash-er was th… th-ere,” Hopewing sobbed, “an… an-nd Th…Thun… Thun-der Fist.”
“Oh?” Silver asked, an edge entering her voice. When she continued, her voice contained the type of confidence Hopewing had learned was forced. Few others would have recognized how it differed from Silver’s normal confidence. “That’s a tougher fight, but nothing Boyd can’t handle.”
“B… B-oyd… g-got hu-ur-urt,” Hope continued clutching at her friend, feeding off even the fake confidence she gave off.
Her sobs faded, then—just a last outpouring of what she hadn’t been able to release on the way back to her room. Silver, like Boyd, never wavered. No matter what, they did what was required of them. Hopewing did her best to emulate that strength but often failed.
“Oh, Sweetie, it’s Boyd we’re talking about. If he was still on his feet at the end of the fight, he’s okay,” Silver assured her. Then, after a moment, she added with some concern, “He was on his feet at the end of the fight, right?” She shook her head. “No, I’m sure he was.”
Hopewing nodded into Silver’s signature hair where it hung around her. Her friend’s hair was special, it wouldn’t suffer from the mistreatment of her tears. And it smelled and felt so very nice.
“He w-was on his f-feet.” A slight smile teased the corner of her lips as she continued, “he extracted d-desserts for a w-week from the three of them.”
“See?” Silver laughed softly. “That’s our Boyd. He probably looked at it as good training. Now, come here and sit down. Let me get you some tissues and a washcloth.”
Silver guided her to sit on the lower of their bunk beds, the one Hopewing normally used. Silver’s Power made getting in and out of the top bunk much easier, as Hope’s wings weren’t all that useful in enclosed spaces like the room. Silver fussed over the younger girl for a moment, cleaning her up and settling her tumultuous emotions.
Excitement had started to build within Hopewing, as she did have something good to report to her friend. It had been more than a year since either of them had extracted more than a dismissive, if polite, acknowledgement that Boyd knew they still existed. Hopewing had extracted sixty-nine whole words from him—many of which were strung together in complete sentences.
That was a conversation.
Hopewing had managed to have a conversation with Boyd that wasn’t in or directly related to training. He’d even met her eyes, if only for a brief moment. And he had allowed her to touch him, to heal him. That was a first—something he’d not permitted since he began to pull away from them shortly after his Change.
“I healed him,” Hopewing announced, letting a smile quirk her lips.
Silver paused in her steps, halfway back from depositing the washcloth in their hamper by the closet. “And… and we talked.”
A series of complex emotions shone through Silver’s eyes over the course of the next few seconds. Hopewing noted excitement, curiosity, joy, envy, and jealousy. All could easily be identified, if you’d studied Silver as much as Hopewing had.
“What did you talk about?” Silver asked in a small voice.
Hopewing’s excitement faltered, but she recounted the conversation that was the cause of her tears even more than the brief and desperate fight had been. She managed to maintain herself this time, swallowing her sadness and stopping the tears from starting anew at the recounting.
Silver sat on Hopewing’s bed beside her, pushing a cool hand under Hope’s sometimes stuffy wings to rub her back, soothing her fears and easing the re-telling. While she had managed to converse with him, it hadn’t been the most pleasant encounter. Ultimately, it had ended as another in a long series of rejections.
Silver, for some reason, was beaming at her, her friend’s bright blue eyes sparkled.
“You did so well, Sweetie. I know it must have been hard, but you reached him—at least a little.” Her friend’s smile turned fragile as she continued, ultimately crumbling and breaking before she dejectedly concluded, “Which is more than I’ve managed.”
Hopewing reached over and hugged her friend, wrapping her wings up around them both. “He’s always so on guard with you…” she tried to explain away the discrepancy.
“No, it’s that he… I don’t know… he relaxes around you? He can’t resist you?”
Hopewing could hear the frustration threatening to spill over in her friend’s voice.
“He’s just different when you are there; that’s why I bring you with me every time I try to talk to him. Remember? We figured that out forever ago. Maybe you should have been the one approaching him, on your own, this whole time.”
“I couldn’t…” Hope had to restrain a gasp at the very idea.
She couldn’t approach Boyd by herself, all alone. It wasn’t that she was worried he might hurt or do something untoward to her, she just couldn’t handle the anxiety even thinking about it produced. What if she said the wrong thing?
She might drive him away for good and that was the one thing she couldn’t bear. It was always so difficult for her to speak in his presence; she was forever afraid of saying something that might embarrass her. Every time she opened her mouth, she ran the risk of glowing words pouring from her mouth in a blurted slurry of praise. It had happened a few times when they’d been children, and while he hadn’t reacted cruelly then, the awkwardness she felt was horrendously, unbearably embarrassing.
Silver leaned back in the hug to meet Hopewing’s deep blue eyes with her own, lighter blue set. “You already did.” She smiled and Hopewing could tell it wasn’t forced in the slightest; it was a true and honest smile. “Tonight, Sweetie, you approached and talked to him all on your own.”
Hopewing gasped, hands pulling away from her friend’s shoulders to cover her mouth. She had, hadn’t she! It was another first.
She hadn’t even considered that fact when she was doing it. He had needed healing and so much more that he wouldn’t allow himself, so she had just walked up and offered it. He’d rejected her, but she hadn’t embarrassed herself. Not really. She’d even managed to keep her tears somewhat in check until he had left.
She wouldn’t have wanted someone to have overheard the encounter, but that didn’t make the private interaction embarrassing in and of itself.
“See? If you could do it once, you can do it again,” Silver continued. “It wasn’t that hard, was it? I mean, I know he made you cry and I’m so sorry for that, but…”
“No, you’re right. I did it.” Hopewing smiled, the expression settling into place much more firmly.
“So…?” Silver’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe you should try to approach him on your own from now on.”
Hopewing felt her smile fade. She couldn’t do that. “No, that’s not how it’s supposed to go.” She denied the suggestion with a shake of her head.
“How is it supposed to go, Sweetie?” Silver asked, raising one of her slightly darker metallic silver eyebrows.
“We’re all supposed to be together… again… just like it used to be,” Hopewing stated.
“Yeah, well, this might be how we get to that.” Silver continued to hold the smile that did not reach her eyes. “If you can get him to open up, even a little, maybe it will be enough that he’ll let me in, too.”
“It won’t go that way.” Hopewing shook her head firmly. “You said so yourself. If he ever lets someone in, he will latch on to them just like he did Mind Witch. They will become his everything just as quickly as she did.”
“Exactly,” Silver insisted. “If he attaches himself to you, that will let me get closer because I doubt you would let him leave me behind.”
Silver had that look in her eye that Hopewing hated most of all. It was the look she got when she was accepting something she did not want to, if only because it was the best path toward her goal. Her friend may have been willing to sacrifice her emotional wellbeing for the sake of the boy they both cared about, but Hope wasn’t willing to let her.
Sure, if—miracle of miracles—Boyd was to truly let her in, it might allow them all to be together again. But Hopewing would see the pain in Silver’s eyes every single day. For a boy, their Boyd was shockingly good at reading others’ emotions—which was ironic, given how much he denied his own emotional needs. She had no doubt that he would see it, too.
“The pain you would feel over Boyd being with another when you so clearly want to be with him would be a crack in the foundation of whatever the two of us built together.” Hopewing would deny Silver the disastrous damage that would inevitably do—to both of them.
The words suddenly burst forth, as if from a damn. “Boyd would almost certainly try to pull away from you—if only to avoid hurting you even more. And I would be stuck switching back and forth between the two of you.”
“How would it be any different if I got through to him first and he clung to me?” Silver’s skepticism was evident in her tone. “You’ve already admitted you have feelings for him.”
“Yes, but he’s blind to them.” Hopewing smiled sadly. “If he ends up with you, then he would probably never even notice me. We could be friends, and I’d get over those feeling before he did notice and my feelings became a wedge between us.”
“But then you’d just suffer, quietly…” Silver’s voice trailed off sadly, her words and tone finally matching the sadness and disappointment her eyes had contained this whole time. Her face dropped into a frown.
“It would still be better than what he’s going through,” Hopewing shrugged a single shoulder.
“Only barely,” Silver scoffed. “It might even be worse on an emotional level. Obviously, it would not be as bad in several ways as his stupid stoicism, but that would still be torture…” Her voice faded off again before she slapped the bed with one hand and groaned.
“Uggh! It’s not fair! Why aren’t there two of him?” Silvie finished her tirade with a little laugh.
Hopewing joined in with a somewhat anemic laugh of her own. “Hehe, if only we could share him, like we do a dessert.” They’d always shared their desserts; it was too bad they couldn’t share everything like that.
Silver went rigid in the loosely maintained hug they’d continued through the conversation, as they lent each other support. She blinked several times, opening her lids a little more each time until she was staring wide-eyed into Hopewing’s questioning gaze.
