I look over at Astileu, now regretting ever making fun of him and calling him Tuxie. His voice is quiet as he finishes telling me what happened.
“But,” I start, confused, “if all that happened, shouldn’t you have some scars or something?”
Astileu swallows, then sighs. “You’re only seeing my healed human form. I’m hiding my true image,” he whispers, not meeting my eyes. I can practically feel his shame, and it honestly just hurts.
I’m quiet for a moment, waiting to see if he will say anything else. After a long silence, I lean my head back against the wall we’re sitting against, drawing my knees up to my chest. “So what does Astileu mean?”
“Oh, um, it’s very ancient, even though I’m a young demon, and the true meaning has been forgotten. But it does have some relation to Astileu, Romania. That village is shaped like a coffin. Only fitting,” he snorts.
“Well, better than my name,” I sigh. “Sebastian Herring. Kids used to call me ‘The Bastard Herring.’”
Astileu snorts under his breath. I smile for the first time since someone has ever laughed at the nickname.
“So, since I can’t really pronounce Astileu, can I call you... Leo?”
Astileu snaps his gaze to mine quickly. He looks surprised. “Leo?”
I shrug. “Or, um, you know, I can just call you Ast—“
“No, no, I like Leo.” He smiles hesitantly at me. His canines are the right length, which makes me feel relieved, although his bottom teeth are slightly crooked. It’s kind of cute.
“But I’m calling you Bastard.”
I nearly choke. “Um, no thanks,” I laugh weakly.
Leo cocks an eyebrow. “Bastard. Bast for short?”
I swallow. “Fine.”
He grins like a little kid and gets up off the floor, my hoodie sleeves falling over his hands. He really is small.
“Bed?”
I accept his hand, scared he’s going to crumple under my weight, but he’s way stronger than he looks. The forges, I guess.
“Yeah. Good night, Leo.” I head towards my room, glancing back as he smirks and sits on the couch.
“Night, Bastard.”
• • •
We leave the next morning. Leo says he knows of an angel in Los Angeles. I have my doubts, but I follow him. He says if things go correctly, we will have found the angel, done the deed I ask for, gotten home, and Leo will be back in Hell by tonight. Leo still doesn’t know I’m going to ask for the angel to heal his own wings, so he’ll be free, and I’m planning on keeping things that way until we get there. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling he wouldn’t take me if he knew. I know that sounds crazy, but I decide to stick to the mental advice.
So this is how I find myself driving along crammed highway lanes, a demon in my passenger seat, and Zane whining in the backseat. I decided to bring him along at the last second. Leo hates it, I know, but I feel more comfortable with a dog than without one.
“This is a despairing trip.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing and glance at Leo. “What makes you say that?”
He doesn’t answer, and I can tell something is wrong by the way he’s shifting around in his seat, clenching his fists and grinding his jaw. Zayn is a bigger mess than ever. It takes me a few minutes to work up the courage, but I finally speak.
“Leo. Is something wrong? You seem like something is hurting you.”
The demon swallows several times. I watch in confusion, realizing he’s scared to say anything.
“Uh, never mind, it’s not a big deal.” I turn back to the road, waiting for a moment for a car in front of me.
“I’m exhausted,” Leo finally bursts out.
I look at him, a bit exasperated. “Then sleep, you idiot. I don’t care.”
He watches me uncomfortably, and I see slight tears in his eyes before he catches my gaze and ducks his head. I’m nervous, not knowing what to say, but I plow ahead anyways.
“Why can’t you sleep?”
Leo doesn’t look up. “You remember how I said this isn’t my true form? How I’m holding back the scars and wounds?” His voice seems slightly choked.
I try to speak carefully. Trying to be safe, I swallow and say, “Yeah.” Smooth.
“It’s exhausting. I’m spending energy trying to hold this, and it’s just shameful. I can’t even hold my form without almost collapsing.” I can hear the strain in his voice as he says it.
I feel around the steering wheel for a moment. Zayn is quiet for the first time during this trip. “Just let it go, then. Don’t try to... look different, or whatever.”
Leo scoffs, looking out the window. “You don’t want to see that, trust me.”
“Why do you care what I think? I’d rather see you, not whatever you’re pulling together, anyways.”
There’s no answer, so I look straight ahead and gaze down the line of cars in front of me. I realize we’re close to Los Angeles, barely an hour from the city. We’ll find the angel and restore Leo’s wings, then I’ll go home, and Leo... I blink. Shit, where is Leo going to go home to?
Zayn starts whining, and I hear his form shuffling even closer to the door. “Zayn, bud, calm down,” I mutter, glancing up into the rearview mirror. He’s staring at Leo again. I sigh and look over myself.
I yell and slam on the brakes, jerking the car to the side of the road, breathing heavily. Zayn howls as I stumble out of my seat, rushing over to the passenger seat. Throwing open the door, I pause, staring at Leo. He’s slumped in his seat, staring at me tiredly, his hands blackened and scarred, his entire body covered with raw scars and bleeding wounds. His eye... I cover my mouth, trying not to gag. I realize now why he was holding back. His entire face is matted with dried blood, some fresh. I swallow several times as he stares at me in anguish.
The horror slams into me again, and I shut his door and hurry back over to my seat, immediately swerving the car back into traffic.
“I said you be disgusted,” Leo whispers, his voice cracking and his eyes closed. Pain is written all over his face.
Shaking my head, I manage to push out a “No.” I swallow again. “I’m not disgusted, but you need help, Leo. I’m going to get you to a doctor, or— or something—“
“Sebastian, you don’t understand. These don’t heal. They’re not like most wounds, okay?”
I look over, terrified. “What about an angel?”
He coughs, and his lip splits, more blood welling. “Technically, an angel would be able to heal this. But an angel wouldn’t listen to me. An angel wouldn’t heal me.”
I can smell the metallic tang of blood, and I feel nauseous. I grip the steering wheel even harder. “Well, this one hasn’t met me.”