Page 39 of Monsters and Mocha

“That’s probably a good idea.” Simon nodded seriously. “A roof and four walls is nothing to take for granted, is what my mama says. You shouldn’t just punch them.” His eyes dropped back to Fitz’s hand, and he added in a whisper, “But I bet you could.”

“Simon!” A young, harried woman rushed down the steps of the bakery.

“Mama!” Simon called over his shoulder. “Come see this man’s hand!”

Fitz could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he braced himself for the inevitable scream that would accompany her notice of his metal limbs.

But it never came.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” The woman grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him back a few steps. She hissed at her son through her teeth, “Simon! What have I told you before about bothering strangers?”

“But Mama, he had a talking bird! And look at his hand.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, looking at Fitz with evident mortification. “I asked him to wait outside while I asked the owner about a job, but I didn’t realize he would be in anyone’s way.”

“He wasn’t a bother,” Fitz hastened to reply, feeling the need to set some of her worries at rest. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, and her expression was tight and pinched. Combined with the worn, frayed edges of her dress and the fact that she was asking about work, it was evident that she had more to worry about than her son’s manners. “He was kind enough to share some of his snack with my feathered friend.” He gestured to Raven, who once again had taken up a position on the streetlamp.

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, and she held out her hand. “I’m Mary.”

He shook her hand, thankful that the blast had taken his left hand, not his right. “Fitz Monstrego.”

Her eyes glanced over him, hovering a moment longer on his metal limbs before returning to his face. “Former military?”

His brow wrinkled. “How did you know?”

“My late husband was a soldier.” A sad smile stretched across her face. “You have a way of carrying yourselves.” She nodded toward his hand. “I’m glad they found a way to help you. John wasn’t so lucky.”

Fitz just nodded mutely, unsure of what to say.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mister Monstrego. Thank you for your patience.” Mary turned and began pulling Simon along behind her.

He opened his mouth to call after her when a large, booming explosion rattled the street. He instinctively threw himself in front of Mary and Simon, bringing all of them to the ground. His chest ached as his heart hammered with adrenaline, and it took his mind a moment to remember where he was. Simon looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What was that?”

The smell of smoke hit his nose, and screaming from across the street met his ears. Fitz leaped to his feet, moving faster than he had thought possible with his artificial limbs.

The hospital! Darby!

He sprinted down the street as fast as he could with his uneven gait. Pain shot through his chest as his heart hammered against his ribs at the sudden demand on its abilities, and Fitz was forced to slow himself to a fast walk. People were already starting to stream from the hospital’s side doors, mingling with the crowds of people spilling from businesses and homes in the neighborhood to see what all the commotion was about. Fitz, making use of his height, searched the ever-growing throng for a familiar shade of red hair.

Please, Deus, please! I don’t want to lose her.

His panic became a living, breathing thing as his search came up empty, and he could barely hear the church bells over the ringing in his ears. He pushed through the mass of people towards a door on the side of the surgical wing.

If she was in the building, she would have been in there.

“Hold on a minute, sir!” A hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked down into the bewhiskered face of a man in a fire brigade uniform. “We can’t let you go in there.”

He shook his head. “She’s still in there.”

I can’t lose her. I can’t.

Short as their time together had been, Fitz already knew he would never in his lifetime meet another woman like Darby. She had worn him down with her relentless positivity, and slowly but surely began to set up camp in his heart. She was passionate and driven in a way that entranced him, and already he could see the ways that she pushed him to be a better version of himself.

Even when he believed that version was a monster half-made of metal.

“I’m sorry. No civilians can pass the fire lines.”