Chapter Thirteen
"The harpy's aerie was located on a ledge that cut into the sheer face of a cliff," Valor continued his brother's story. "Without his wings, Dare couldn't escape."
Valor told me how the harpy had threatened to hurt someone Dare loved if he didn't share his venom with her. When he told her it was a long way back to York and the people he cared about, she said she'd find a child and bring her to the aerie. And make Dare watch while she tortured the little girl. Dare refused to let that happen. But he didn't want to give the harpy his rune and be bound to her forever. He didn't even want to give the harpy his venom, since that would make her almost impossible to kill and he was still hoping the pack might find him one day.
"So he thrust his fists into the fire and crushed his hackles against its red hot coals." Valor's voice cracked on the last three words and when I saw what it cost him to tell the story about his brother, I wished I'd never asked.
Some time after Dare had destroyed his barbs, the harpy removed his chains so he could tend the fire and prepare food and essentially be her slave. Since he couldn't fly, she didn't think he could escape from the aerie—not without falling to his death. She didn't notice that a narrow sliver of sunshine reached the ledge for a few minutes every morning one week in winter.
Unchained, Dare was able to reach the sun at the edge of the cliff one cold morning. And before the harpy realized what he was doing, he stretched out on the cave's floor and turned to stone. With his back fused to the rock and his arms crossed over his chest, the harpy couldn't get a chain or rope around him. He lay there for more than two years until the harpy died. Then he waited until the direct sunlight touched him again.
"The harpy couldn't break him away from the stone?" I questioned.
"Harpies aren't that strong." Valor answered. "Nothing's that strong."
By the time Dare returned to his living form, he'd had two years to decide what to do next. Without hesitating, he stepped from the cliff face and turned to stone. After he hit the ground on the valley below, he waited for the sun to reach him again the next day before he changed back to his living form and walked two hundred miles home.
"And when he got back to York, the ends of his hair were white," Valor said. "From all the stress of what he'd been through."
"He…can't cut the ends of his hair off?"
"The new ends turn white again in a few days," he explained.
My emotions got the better of me. "You'd better tell me the best way to fight a harpy," I said shakily.
"There aren't any harpies anymore," he pointed out gently.
"Maybe," I said, my voice catching. "Maybe not."
He slanted a look down at me and searched my face. "Don't let this harden your heart, Kenz."
I wiped my eyes and shook my head. "I'm not contemplating revenge. I'm just thinking about survival, in case anything happens."
"I won't let anything happen to you," he muttered fiercely.
"Then tell me what to do if something happens to you or your family," I insisted.
"If something happens to any of us, I don't want you involved," he growled. "A harpy could break your neck as easily as snapping a twig. I don't want you anywhere near one of those monsters."
I stared at Valor and saw the determination in his eyes. But there was concern in his shadowed gaze, too. And despite his claim that harpies no longer existed, I could tell he was worried he might be wrong. At any rate, I could see there was no way he was going to tell me anything I could use against a harpy. It was clear I'd have to get the information from someone else. I was planning on Dare being that someone else and fell asleep that night meaning to talk to him as soon as I got the chance.
I hit the snooze button after my phone alarm woke me the next morning. The early morning sunlight brightened the corners of my room and my neighbor seemed like a very distant threat with Valor sitting a few feet away. As long as the gargoyles were near, I knew I'd never be afraid of David Blocker again.
I bunched my sheets beneath my chin and watched Valor asleep on the other side of the room. Sprawled out in the upholstered chair, he looked pretty ohmygod hot—spectacular and breathtaking—like the ohmygod road that winds through the mountains from Idaho Springs to Central City. His long legs were stretched in front of the chair and his thick eyelashes fanned out on the high cut of his cheekbones while his dark hair spread beneath his head like a wash of intense midnight.
As I gazed at his perfectly molded face, I thought about the hug we'd shared last night. I wondered if it meant as much to him as it did to me. In the end, I decided he was probably just trying to console me so I'd stop pouring tears all over his shoulder.
My phone started beeping again, reminding me I had to get up and go to school. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed from the room so I wouldn't wake Valor or any of the other gargoyles in the house. I crept downstairs to the bathroom on the main level and stepped inside to take a shower. And when I walked out of the bathroom, Dare was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, waiting for me.
I rubbed a towel over my wet hair. "Have you been assigned to me for the day?" I asked with a defeated sigh. I might have known I couldn't sneak around without waking at least one of the gargoyles. Their hearing was just too good.
Dare averted his eyes and rolled his shoulders. "No," he answered. "I just thought maybe…"
"Maybe what?" I asked as I threw the towel over the back of a barstool and breezed past him to pour myself a bowl of cereal.
"You mentioned that you might be able to take someone to school with you, and I thought…"
He was so hesitant, I could see that my security wasn't the issue this time. For whatever reason, he just wanted to go to school with me. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea, since it would give me a chance to ask him about harpies. "Get rid of that knife hanging from your belt and have some cereal," I told him as I pointed my spoon at the box of corn flakes. "We have to get out of here in ten minutes."
Dare grabbed a bowl and filled it. "You're sure it won't be a problem?"
I gave him an appraising look. He looked more like a senior than a sophomore. But fortunately, Whitney's mom works in attendance. "I don't think it will be a problem," I told him.
It was no trouble at all getting a school pass for Dare. The women in the attendance office were falling all over themselves trying to be helpful. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat and charmed everyone's socks off with his unusual accent and his extreme good looks.
I watched as he signed the form they gave him and was surprised when he marked his rune with a few swift strokes. Nobody else seemed to notice. I suppose it didn't look much different than a short, scrawled signature.
"Name?" Whitney's mom asked as she turned the paper around on the counter and gave it a quick glance.
"Dare," he answered.
"Last name?"
As if he hadn't expected the question, Dare looked at me for help.
I hadn't expected it either. "Greystone," I answered off the top of my head.
"Dare Greystone," Mrs. Anders repeated. "Nice name."
I almost said thank you and only stopped myself just in time.
When we stepped into the hall, the ladies back in attendance were still talking about Dare's accent. I grinned up at him, grabbed his arm and dragged him off to my first class where he caused quite a sensation. In his long black trench coat, he pretty much looked like a rock star and all the girls stared at him with blatant interest.
Unfortunately, the first class was Algebra and Dare was lost. But he did better the next period, which was history. We were discussing the Napoleonic wars and Dare had some strong opinions on the le petit caporal. Mrs. Bennett was pretty impressed with his knowledge. She probably got the impression that British schools were better than American ones. You wouldn't necessarily think so if you met some of my cousins.
When the lunch bell rang, we joined Mim and Whitney at a picnic table behind the school. I'd hoped Dare
would join in our conversation and show Mim he wasn't a complete jerk but he didn't say much. He sat with his forearms resting on his knees and tossed French fries at the ravens.
The birds that hang around school are huge. They live pretty well on student leftovers. They took the fries and hid them under the bushes close to the wall then piled stones on top of them. Ravens aren't dumb. They were probably saving the food for the weekend when school was out. Either that or they were planning a big party.
After lunch, I had an hour of band then P.E. was my last class of the day. Dare took off his coat and joined in the coed volleyball game. He did remarkably well for someone who'd never played before. The girls were all in raptures as they eyed the damp T-shirt that clung to his lean physique. The guys were less thrilled.
He ignored everyone as thoroughly as he'd ignored Mim and Whitney at lunch.
"Do you just not like my friends?" I asked Dare as we pulled out of the sophomore parking lot at the end of the day.
"I like them fine," he answered as if he was surprised by my question.
"Well, you don't act as if you like them."
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give that impression. I was distracted at lunch. School…wasn't exactly what I expected."
It was my turn to be surprised. "What did you expect?"
A slash of color burned along his cheekbones. "I didn't realize that everyone could already read and write."
"Oh," I said as the meaning of his words sank in.
"I was quite keen to go to school with you so that I could start learning."
"You…can't read?"
"No," he replied wistfully. "The alphabet has changed a lot in the last eight hundred years. I could read a little back in my time but there wasn't much to read. That was before the printing press and books."
"Really?" I murmured. I should have realized the gargoyles wouldn't be able to read. But they were so familiar with my century that it was easy to forget they'd been in the dark for eight hundred years.
"About two centuries ago, we had a large family living in our house. The father read Dickens aloud to his children. Great Expectations. Tale of Two Cities. A Christmas Carol. I was hoping to read them myself, one day."
I couldn't help but feel sorry for Dare. I could tell he was discouraged about being so far behind in his education. And I could see he desperately wanted to learn. Most of all, I felt bad for accusing him of being unfriendly, especially when I realized he couldn't say all that much to Mim and Whitney since he had to keep his history a secret. "I'm sorry I suggested you didn't like my friends."
"It wouldn't do me any good if I did like them," he sighed. He turned his head and looked out the side window.
I cut a quick glance at him. "I can teach you to read."
"It's not just that." He stared down at the deep scars that ripped across his knuckles. "What can I offer them compared to Victor and the others? Without wings, I'm no use to anybody, much less girls like Mim and Whitney. And the girls will be meeting the rest of the pack tomorrow night."
I figured it was time to get tough with the moody gargoyle. "Here's a news flash, Dare. Mim and Whitney don't know any guys with wings. Not one. So they aren't going to miss your wings. In fact, they're gonna think it's totally bizarre if they ever find out you're supposed to have them!"
His mouth curved downward into a masculine sulk and he turned his face toward the window again.
I hit the brake and the Jeep fishtailed to a halt on the gravel road. Before the dust settled, I pulled the handbrake, got out of the car and walked around to the passenger-side door.
"What?" he growled as I opened the door.
I held up the car keys. "Learn to drive and you won't need to fly."
His lips tipped slightly upward. If it was a smile, it was the first one I'd seen on his handsome face. It was pretty thin, but it was a start.
I gave him a few instructions and we were off. Dare was a natural when it came to driving. I could tell he'd been watching me, and he knew almost exactly what to do before I said anything. He steered the car back home, up the driveway and right into the garage.
"Good work," I told him.
"Thanks," he responded quietly, but there was more life in his gold-flecked eyes than I'd seen up until then. "It was…nice of you to give me a lesson."
"Do you want to do something nice for me in return?" I asked, all innocent-like.
He slid me a wary look from the corner of his eye.
I felt a little guilty because I knew Valor didn't want me to know what I was about to ask. But I asked anyhow. I was just careful to keep my voice low so the gargoyles in the house wouldn't hear us. "Tell me how to fight a harpy."
Dare rubbed his hand over his mouth and eyed me as if he was reluctant to start. "You know there probably aren't any more harpies, right?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." I stubbornly repeated the words I'd said to Valor the night before. "Either way, I want to be prepared."
He gave me another thin smile. "You aren't going to go picking a fight if you do find one, are you?"
"Of course not," I mumbled, feeling a little bit silly. I guess I probably sounded like an idiot by suggesting I might be able to take on a harpy. "But if I wake up one morning and discover you guys are missing, I'm gonna come looking for you."
He watched me a long moment. "I believe you would."
"Hey," I said. "I'm a member of the pack now and I protect my own."
With a soft chuckle, Dare started his explanation. "The best way to get rid of a harpy is to take a sledge hammer to her. Harpies aren't indestructible like gargoyles. The stone they're made of is common rock and can be broken. But that doesn't make them easy to kill. Harpies can remain motionless on the side of a building for eons, but if they see you coming after them, they'll peel away from the building and fight. They're big and they're strong. Although they can't turn to flesh and blood like we can, they can move while in their rock form. And they don't have to wait for the sun to touch them."
"A sledge hammer?" I mused doubtfully. That would be heavy. I wasn't sure I could do much more than pick one up.
Dare gave another low laugh. "They're easier to kill with a long knife but you have to slide the blade between the stony plates on their bodies. And that isn't easy to pull off, either," he pointed out. "At least it wasn't easy back in my time because harpies tended to hunt in gangs and single out a lone gargoyle then attack him together. When that happened, a gargoyle wouldn't stand much chance of getting in a blow."
"They sound horrible," I muttered. "Ganging up on you guys like that."
He nodded. "Gargoyles soon learned to form packs and avoided traveling alone."
I thought this over. The whole pack thing was more than just a social grouping. It was a strategy to improve the gargoyles' chances of survival.
"Once the harpy is dead, she returns to stone forever," he continued.
I wondered how many of the ugly sculptures I'd seen in Oxford were dead harpies…and how many were still alive. "Then she can be broken up?" I asked.
"She could be broken up after she was dead but it isn't strictly necessary. After she's dead, she'll never rise to harm another living thing."
"Anything else?" I asked, determined to learn as much about harpies as possible.
"Bright light bothers their eyes."
"Really?"
"And they hate music."
Well, there you go. Any creature that hates music has nothing good in them. "All music?"
"All music," he confirmed. "A harpy wouldn't even like the Beatles."
I hadn't known Dare was a Beatles fan. He and my mother would get along like gangbusters. "Anything else?" I asked.
The passenger door opened suddenly and I jumped at the deep click of sound. I'd been so focused on my conversation with Dare that I hadn't seen Valor approach the car. I thought he might envy his brother getting driving lessons but the look he shot at me was pure gratitude. "Were you driving?" he asked his
brother enthusiastically.
"First lesson," Dare admitted with a grin.
"How'd he do?" Valor questioned me.
"The guy's a natural," I proclaimed as I grabbed my backpack and jumped down to the garage floor.
Valor put his arm around his brother's shoulders then reached for my hand as he hauled us back to the house. We found the rest of the pack in the living room, busy working on a set of bows.
"Did you…find some yew trees?" I asked Valor incredulously.
"I spotted some when we flew over the park last night. We hiked over there today and gathered some wood."
"That's great," I said as I dumped my school stuff behind the couch. For several moments, I watched the guys shave away thin curls of wood with their knives. I could see they'd eventually need some sandpaper so I went out to the garage and found some for them. They thought it was brilliant.
"What would you have used in place of sandpaper?" I called out from the kitchen where I was working on my Sir Walter Raleigh head. I had glued a cheap black wig to the back of a mask and I was stuffing it full of tissue paper.
"Stone," Victor answered. "Probably sandstone, come to think of it. Or a metal file if we could afford one."
It was hard to imagine a time when metal was in short supply. Gold, yes. Plain old steel, not so much. I glued some bright turquoise marbles into the mask's eye sockets and rearranged the dark hair.
"What do you think?" I asked the guys after I'd crammed the head inside the plastic jar.
Victor slid a grin toward the others. "It looks familiar, somehow. What do you think, Havoc?"
Havoc rubbed his chin and pretended to study the head in the jar. "It does look familiar, especially around the eyes. I can't quite place the face, though."
Everyone turned and looked at Valor. "Personally, I can't see the likeness," he declared without cracking a smile.
Grinning, I set my plastic jar on the kitchen counter and headed for the computer in the family room. I got online and ordered the stuff the guys would need for bowstrings. I didn't want them skinning any cats although Havoc assured me that bowstrings weren't made of catgut or any other animal intestines. He insisted that bowstrings were made from plant fiber and they were completely vegetarian.
Whatever. I ordered the nylon just to be safe.
Valor (A Greystone Novel) Page 14
