The Triumphant Daughter

by Sarah Noffke

  The sound of grass tearing echoed behind her. Liv turned, expecting to see another stone levitating in the air. Instead, a bundle of weeds and sad dandelions rose, dirt clinging to their roots. They flew over until they were even with Liv’s face.

  “Is this your way of agreeing to a momentary truce?” she asked, looking around. When there was no answer, she wrapped her hand around the bouquet and feigned a smile. “Thanks.”

  She tucked the flowers into the pocket of her cape, thinking how strange her life truly was.

  The shifting of stones high up on the roof stole her attention. It was time to test Plato’s theory. It wasn’t that she doubted the cat, but standing idly by as furious gargoyles attacked her would take a bit of faith. The six beasts perched on the edge of the roof, staring down at her with a degree of menace she’d rarely seen before. It was like she’d stolen their lunch and then tossed it down the drain.

  Liv’s stomach rumbled. Now she was hungry? What horrible timing, she thought.

  If I get through this, I’ll buy myself a burger the size of my face.

  As before, the gargoyle on the closest corner of the roof opened its mouth. More than anything, Liv wanted to close her eyes. Actually, more than that, she wanted to run or teleport. Do anything but remain frozen.

  Instead, she let her hands hang loosely by her side and stared up at the gargoyle with unblinking eyes. A neat stream of orange fire soared from its mouth straight at her. She felt the blaze of heat as it neared, and for a moment considered that Plato was wrong. How would it look when the House found out she had died without putting up a fight? How would it look that she had died at the home of a strange elf? Her life flashed before her eyes, but in all the wrong ways.

  The hippies, who were still in the park, yelled various pieces of advice while they watched this scene by moonlight. “Watch out!” “No!” “Move.”

  It all happened in slow motion for Liv. Her face warmed, then it was burning hot. The fire was close. Searing her eyes. About to engulf her.

  And then it was gone.

  She blinked up, trying to make out what had happened. The gargoyle was still perched low, its mouth open, but the fire had disappeared. She gazed down at her cape, expecting to find it scorched. It wasn’t. She wasn’t burned anywhere, although the residual heat still wafted against her face even with the chilly fog moving across the lawn.

  The hippies made muffled sounds of relief at her back, but she didn’t dare turn to look at them. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the gargoyles. They’d moved out of formation and were crawling around on the roof, seemingly patrolling, their eyes darting to her every few seconds.

  Without warning, one sped off the rooftop, its stone wings flapping as it circled in the air. Liv had seen this move before and knew what happened next. Her fingers flexed beside Bellator, but she stopped herself from pulling the weapon. Instead, she kept her chin held high and didn’t flinch even when the gargoyle switched paths, diving straight at her.

  Again the hippies yelled, sounding like a bunch of overly-excited school children. Liv blocked them out, her skin perspiring as the gargoyle drew ever closer.

  “What we resist persists,” she said aloud, forcing herself to stay still even at the moment right before impact.

  The gargoyle flew straight through her like a cold breeze, landing with a thud on the wet grass behind her.

  Desperately, Liv wanted to turn around and see what it was doing, but she knew better than to turn her back on the other five gargoyles, who were watching her so intently. So far she’d withstood the test. Plato had been right. This was mind over magic.

  The gargoyles huddled together on the roof, looking like a football team deciding on their next play, then one by one, they began to dissolve, disappearing into the night air.

  Liv thought she’d finally done it when the last one disappeared. She wiggled her toes in her boots, ready to set off for the door, when something black that was much larger than the gargoyles shot up from the rooftop. Liv blinked, trying to make out the shape of the figure, not sure if it was a beast or a rippling piece of fabric. There was something so different from the gargoyles about it. It didn’t move like a monster.

  She realized what it was when it stepped into the light. It moved like a man.

  It was Adler Sinclair.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liv could hardly believe her eyes as she stared up at the pale magician standing on the third story rooftop, holding a staff. His long white beard rippled in the wind, and his treacherous eyes were screwed up with anger.

  Every impulse in her screamed that she should fight. Pull Bellator and make a stand against the threatening force high above her.

  Adler raised his staff, muttering incantations that Liv couldn’t hear, and she braced herself for what would come next. Although she’d already faced fire and a gargoyle, this was against every instinct. Everything in her told her to fight. To battle what came next. To defend herself.

  She expected a bolt of lightning or a blast of fire to surge from his staff. Instead, the magician flew down to the ground, landing beside her and towering over her. Liv was used to looking up at Adler Sinclair, but not like this.

  She was defenseless, unable to speak her mind or do any of the things that usually made her feel empowered against him.

  When he spoke, his words echoed in her mind for what felt like a long time.

  “I didn’t want to kill you, but you leave me no choice,” Adler said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  Liv’s hands shook by her side. She knew what came next, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing to be done. She could only stand by powerless as her enemy struck her down.

  Adler lifted his staff and muttered a single spell. Bright light shot out of the end of his staff, directed at Liv, and it hit her in the chest, sending an ache straight to her core.

  She’d been wrong.

  This would kill her.

  She’d stood idly by, not defending herself.

  And now she was…

  The figure of Adler dissolved into a mound of debris, like the remnants of the statues churned to dust.

  Clapping woke her from her reverie. Liv almost dared to look at the park, where she suspected the hippies were still watching her, but she caught a figure standing on the porch of the old house.

  He was dressed in a three-piece black and white suit and was wearing a bowtie. His pants looked to be too short for him, showing off a bit of his stark white socks. Actually, Renswick Shoshawnawalla looked like he had just stepped out of a silent film, not just because of the way he was dressed, but in that he too was black and white, as if he’d yet to be colored.

  He stopped clapping when Liv noticed him. His black hair was cropped tightly to his head, and his mustache looked like a tiny pencil sitting below his nose. In his eyes was a brooding mischief that was both curious and disconcerting, like he was planning a trick right then.

  “Very well done, magician,” Renswick said, striding off the porch, his hands now clasped behind his back. “I was certain you’d defend yourself against your evil bad guy, but in the end, you stood brave.”

  He eyed the mound of dust thoughtfully. “Who is he to you? Your father? A mean uncle? The salesman who sold you that cape?”

  Liv glanced down at her traveling cape and grimaced. “What’s wrong with this?”

  A smile worked at his lips. “Oh, nothing. It just shrieks, ‘I’m a magician.’”

  “But I am a magician,” Liv argued.

  Renswick rocked forward on his toes and back again on his heels. “That you are. And you’ve gone to impressive lengths to get my attention, so you have it.” He held an arm out, indicating his house. “Would you like to come inside? There’s a bite in the air, and the hippies on the lawn won’t stop gawking at us.”

  Liv cast a glance at the park, where the hippies were in fact ogling them in disbelief. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.”

  Liv’s eyes darted to the small mound of d
ust on the ground behind her, supposedly the first gargoyle who had charged her, then her eyes swiveled to the pile that was Adler Sinclair.

  “How did you know to make it…well, that man?” Liv asked, pointing to where Adler had stood moments prior, looking real and whole.

  Renswick held up a finger, a clever glint in his eyes. “Oh, I knew nothing. It’s a simple security spell that works by drawing out the intruder’s worst enemies—those you most want to fight. You resisted your greatest adversary even as he was about to strike you down. Very impressive—some might say foolish—but it fulfilled the conditions of the test, and therefore I don’t see you as harmful to me.” He swept his arm toward the house again. “Shall we go in, then?”

  Liv nodded, following the elf as he strode off.

  When they stepped across the threshold, Renswick held out his hand.

  Liv was so distracted by the many overwhelming aspects of the foyer that she hardly registered the gesture.

  “I’ll take your cape, Ms…”

  With her mouth hanging open, Liv eyed the stuffed crow that sat on the banister of the staircase. It had an uncanny resemblance to the one in the Chamber of the Tree, but Liv reasoned that all crows looked alike.

  Hanging on the walls were several large oil paintings. Much like Renswick, they were done in black and white, as if the painter didn’t have any colors on his palette. The entry was filled with strange gothic-inspired items, such as a grandfather clock with many detailed carvings around the face, a coat rack with no coats, and an umbrella stand without any umbrellas.

  Coming back to herself, Liv nodded, taking off her cape. “Ms. Beaufont,” she supplied. “However, you can call me ‘Liv.’”

  Renswick lifted a sharp black eyebrow as he took her cape. “You are the daughter of Guinevere Beaufont, then?”

  Liv knew that her mother had been a Warrior for a long time, supposedly meeting many magical creatures, and yet it always surprised her when she met someone who had known her. It was like she was somehow preserved through their knowledge of her, meaning she was somehow still alive.

  “You knew my mother?” Liv asked.

  Renswick shook his head. “I have heard of her. You know how people often say someone’s reputation precedes them?”

  Liv nodded.

  “Well, that phrase was invented for people like your mother, from what I’ve heard,” Renswick said, thoughtfully hanging up her cape and directing her down a long hallway.

  The corridor was filled with more black and white paintings of an elfin woman wearing Victorian dresses or horseback riding across a pasture or standing beside a man who looked exactly like Renswick.

  “What did my mother’s reputation say about her?” Liv dared to ask.

  “That she was deadly and ruthless, and absolutely breathtaking in the moonlight,” Renswick stated, coming around in front of Liv when he’d led them to an elegant sitting room. He smiled a little. “And that was what her enemies said. Those who liked her said she was brave and just, and incredibly beautiful.”

  Liv forced herself to look around the sitting room, feeling a tender ache erupt in the pit of her stomach. There was no color. The chairs were black, the marble floors white, and the walls a mixture of both.

  “Since the hour is late and you’re on duty, do you mind if I offer you nothing?” Renswick asked, motioning for her to take a seat. “I have various bourbons, but I think Warriors prefer to keep their wits about them, is that correct?”

  Liv nodded, noticing a decanter stationed by a side window. “I’m fine, Mr. Shoshawnawalla. I won’t take up much of your time.”

  “Please call me Renswick,” he offered. “And you passed my tests, so by my own rules, you are welcome to stay as long as you like.” He laughed, taking a seat on one of the chairs. “Actually, you’re the first to get through my security in a very, very long time. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest who didn’t end up dead.”

  Liv tried to laugh with him, but it came out more like a sharp cough. “Right, yeah, that was a pretty gnarly security system. Care to explain?”

  “I don’t like people,” Renswick said simply.

  “I sensed that, but that was a pretty elaborate system you came up with.”

  “I just figured that enemies or self-preserving hippies will fight my obstacles,” Renswick explained. “But the brave and righteous will persevere using reason. Oh, it is the best gift any of the best possess.”

  “Your intellect makes sense. I’m just grateful I figured it out before the poltergeist finished me off,” Liv stated.

  Renswick clapped his hands together with a delighted grin. “Oh, Todd is simply wonderful, isn’t he? He hates people too. At first I didn’t need a security system, but then he’d take a holiday, and I’d have to fend for myself. That was when I decided I needed something that was more around the clock.”

  “Todd?” Liv asked. “That’s his name? I think we made a truce.”

  Renswick chuckled darkly. “Oh, that’s cute. I’d hate to be you when you leave here.”

  “Ummm…can I portal out of here?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t, but I’ve got a helmet if you’d like to borrow it. I will require that you return it, which will probably not be worth the effort since you’ll need it to get away from Todd the second time.”

  Liv stared at the ornate coffee table, considering this strange situation. “I think I’m good, but thanks.”

  “You know what, just this once, I’ll call him off of you,” Renswick said with a genuine smile. “You appear to have your hands full and you did make it past the gargoyles.”

  “Thanks,” Liv said.

  “So, you came here to ask for an exilar? A depour? A trixie mixie?”

  Liv’s brow scrunched up in confusion. “No, but what’s a trixie mixie?”

  Renswick wagged a finger at her. “If you don’t know, then I can’t tell you.”

  “Right,” Liv said, wondering if she’d accidentally strolled into an insane asylum. “I’m here because I’ve heard you’re an expert on demons.”

  The pleasant smile on Renswick’s face disappeared. “Oh, I should have known.” He stood abruptly, clapping his hand at his side. “Please follow me.”

  The elf disappeared through the sitting room door.

  Liv stood and ran after him. “Where are we going?”

  “Well, I was under the impression that you were polite company, but I realize that was an incorrect assumption.”

  “Wait, you thought I came here to ask about tree gnomes and such?” Liv asked, following him up a staircase that seemed to keep going, although she was sure they’d gone up two flights and there were more in sight.

  “Naturally,” he stated. “Most Warriors who have paid me a visit only care about the trivial.”

  “And you’re surprised I’m asking about demons?” she asked.

  He looked over his shoulder, his hand gliding over the staircase rail. “I’m surprised, but not astonished. I figured this day would come soon. Who told you, the dwarves? The centaur? Please tell me the blood children aren’t blabbing?”

  “It was the brownies,” she admitted, wondering what blood children were.

  He paused, giving her a proud look. “Brownies? You got the information out of a brownie? Oh, Ms. Beaufont, you’re doing something right, aren’t you?”

  “Or something very wrong,” she replied.

  Renswick halted after five stories, directing her to the only room on the floor. “Please go in, and don’t make yourself comfortable.”

  Liv did as she was told, although she found the tile on this floor sticky, making each step more difficult than the last.

  When she entered the open room, she was surprised to find her first bit of color in the house—black, white and too much red. She nearly whipped out Bellator at the sight of the many demons in the room until she realized they were taxidermies.

  Liv shivered at the sight before her. It was a library, and so much more
. There were many demons complete with horns stationed around the room, as well as many cases displaying different artifacts. With her mouth wide open, she stared around at the strangeness, waiting for Renswick to speak. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction to the room.

  “It’s taken me the better part of a century to construct this,” he offered after a long silence.

  “Why?” she asked simply in response.

  He shrugged and strode into the room, appreciating the many volumes on the wall. “Why does anyone study the devil?”

  “Because they are corrupt?” Liv offered.

  He chuckled, holding a single finger in the air. “Or they want to heal the world of corruption.”

  That sounded similar to what Mortimer had said when she’d asked.

  “The crow in the Chamber of the Tree serves a very important purpose,” he said.

  Liv blinked, wondering how he knew about it. No one but those in the House should know about the crow, and really only the Seven.

  “Yes, I know,” he said as if she’d voiced a complaint. “You see, most regard the tiger as the most important part because he represents good. But what happens when you ignore evil?”

  Liv didn’t answer mostly because she didn’t have one.

  “When you ignore evil, you open yourself to it,” he answered for her. Renswick held his arms out wide. “I’ve spent an entire mortal’s life’s worth of years cataloging demons because I don’t want to be susceptible to them. That’s called constant vigilance. That’s called guarding the crow, rather than cherishing the tiger.”

  Liv thought back to the mausoleum, trying to piece together everything she’d learned and seen. “Your wife, Delilah—was she killed by a demon?”

  Renswick’s arms clapped to his chest, offense springing to his face. “Where is Todd when I need him?”

  Liv’s hand went to Bellator, but she resisted. Instead, she drew on a strange strength and boldness she hadn’t even known she had. “Delilah? Please tell me.”

  Renswick drew in a breath, collapsing on a long black couch. “You’re right. She was bitten by a demon.”