Wings of Stone

by Jenna Wolfhart

  How did he? How could he? He hadn’t moved from his spot. He hadn’t even touched her.

  He shrugged again. Smiled. “I get paid in more than just cash, sweetheart.”

  “You bastard,” I hissed, curling my hands into tight little fists. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  “Relax,” he said in a rumbling voice. “She might have some bruises tomorrow, but she’ll be fine.”

  He stalked across the rock face toward me. I backed up, less than an inch. My feet hovered at the edge of the cliff. His wings were spread wide on either side, curving forward to trap me in place. I had nowhere to go but down or up. And up, with him…I couldn’t let that happen.

  In the distance, I heard another set of arrows launch into the air.

  Whoever he was working with was still firing at the shifters. At my stone guardians.

  At my friends.

  Anger and fear boiled in my veins like vicious things. The emotions charged through me, a fire building that had been hiding inside me for a very long time. Eyes narrowed, fists clenched, I zeroed my anger on the shifter stalking toward me. On his beautiful but deadly wings. On his lazy, bored face.

  A face that said this was nothing to him.

  A face that didn’t care.

  That only stoked my fire into a roaring inferno.

  His hand shot out. He curled his fingers around my wrist and yanked me to his chest. I screamed. No, I roared. And I whipped my body away from him so fast that I almost moved in a blur. Jasper’s training kicked in. I bent my knees, tucked in my elbows, and slammed my knuckled fist into his stomach.

  Pure adrenaline shot from my chest, down my arm, down my knuckles, and into his body.

  And then he went flying back, stumbling over the side of the cliff.

  Not from his wings, I realized.

  But from the power of my fist.

  Part III

  AN INHERITANCE OF SWORDS

  Chapter 18

  Everyone was staring at me.

  We’d all gathered in the dining hall after the attack. All of us except for the Queen and her shadow witches, all of whom wanted to recover in their rooms. Tess was the only one out of the lot who wanted to join us in the hall.

  Sebastian, as terrible and traitorous as he was, had been right. The arrow had barely grazed Eli’s wing. A little healing salve, and he was fine. No one else was wounded, other than Tess. She sat in the chair next to mine with a frozen bag of peas pressed tightly to the back of her head.

  As far as the other side was concerned, Sebastian had vanished after I’d thrown that punch. And the volley of arrows had stopped. We’d searched the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, searched those foaming waters where he’d fallen. But, he was nowhere to be found.

  I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Kipling hurried in from the hallway, a heavy tome in his withered hands. He dropped it onto the table. Dust curled up from its ancient cover. “I read this the other day and dismissed it, but I believe we have our answer in the pages of that book.”

  I shivered, too afraid to open it.

  “Is it…bad?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Am I fae? Unseelie?”

  “It is neither bad nor good,” Kipling said. “But no, you are not fae. And truth be told, I do not know how the faeries got ahold of you.”

  Something about the tone of his voice made me grip the sides of my chair, fingernails digging into the rough wood.

  Got ahold of me. Like they took me. From the place where I really belonged.

  He flipped open a book, and there…there was an image. Of a girl who looked a lot like me.

  “This is the goddess of magic,” Kipling began. And those words alone sent a shiver down my spine. “Her name was—is—Hecate. She came to the mortal realm with a gift. The gift of magic and witchcraft. Before that time, none of that existed in this world. The tales say that she viewed humanity and was troubled, sad. She thought her gift would improve the world. The only problem was, magic only existed here as long as she remained. And she yearned to go back to her home, to her realm of gods and power. So, she had an idea. Offspring. She searched the earth for a human man she found strong and attractive, she bedded him, and together, they created a dozen children. Demigods. Strong and powerful warriors. Her protectors of magic.”

  I found myself leaning forward across the table, drinking in his every word. And, all around me, others were doing the same.

  “Unfortunately.” Kipling flipped the page. The image here made me suck in a sharp breath. Dead bodies littered the ground. “Humanity had a troublesome relationship with magic. Some feared and hated it. And others embraced it. Battles were fought. Both sides won and lost. Those who had embraced Hecate’s gift began to learn to hide their powers, dividing themselves into four covens based on the part of her gift they liked best. Sun, blood, bone, and shadow. Rallying together. Hiding together. And keeping their powers to themselves. Over time, humanity began to forget that magic was real.”

  I nodded along. Myths. Legends. Ghost stories by firelight.

  “But as the witches fled into hiding,” Kipling sucked in a breath and turned the page, “there was another group who turned their focus onto the gods. These humans learned the truth about the source of the gift, and they knew that those twelve demigods would need to die in order for magic to be erased forever. One by one, these human hunters tracked down the demigods. And, one by one, they killed them.”

  My eyes widened, a sick horror filling my gut.

  “Save for one.” The book rattled as Kipling turned another page. He pointed at the image. “Circe. She avoided detection and was not spotted again until much more recently. A year ago, I believe, when the witches of America waged war with the demons. If my sources are correct, she joined them in the fight. And she fell.”

  Kipling laced his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and gave a nod. Like that explained everything.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “I mean, you’re not saying I’m Circe, are you?”

  “No, of course not.” He shook his head and let out a kind laugh. “That would be ridiculous. Not only is she dead, but she was born centuries ago. No, my dear. I believe that Circe found herself a mate. As recently as twenty-two years ago. And I believe they had a child together.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and gripped my chair tighter. “Twenty-two years ago. You’re not saying—”

  He nodded and flipped several pages back to the image of Hecate. “You are the silver-haired girl, Rowena Mortensen. You are the daughter of magic. The granddaughter of Hecate, goddess of witchcraft. You, my dear, are a demigod. The only one left of your kind.”

  “That’s why they’re trying to kill me,” I breathed, the truth thudding through my mind. “The prophecy…it’s true. With Circe dead…”

  “You are the last protector of magic we have.”

  Chapter 19

  I was speechless. Absolutely, one-hundred percent speechless.

  And, it seemed, so was everyone else in the room.

  “Rowena, can we speak privately?” Kipling asked as he stood and tucked the book underneath his arm. With a nod, I followed him out of the hall. Every step, I felt their eyes on me. The gargoyle shifters who had just discovered I was some kind of…some kind of goddess.

  That word did not feel as if it could apply to me at all.

  Kipling led me all the way across a courtyard and into the Scriptorium where he gestured for me to take a seat next to Eli’s desk while he settled into the chair beside mine. He steepled his fingers and regarded me quietly.

  Did he want me to say something? Did he want some kind of reaction? Because I was still numb from the realization of exactly who—and what—I was.

  “I don’t know if this is something you’ve considered, Rowena,” he began in a soft, kind voice that soothed some of the frayed edges around my heart. “I know that it’s all been a bit much. One thing after another for awhile now.”

 
; I swallowed hard and nodded.

  “But, Rowena, I want to make sure that you understand the severity of the situation.” He sighed, a half-smile drawn across his face. “You know that this city is dying—or is already dead. All those statues out there. You know what they are, yes?”

  I nodded, memory flicking back to Alaric’s shimmering stone face. “Yes, I know. At one point in time, they were shifters like Jasper and Eli.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “The most recent of them became unable to shift only six months ago.”

  My heart jolted in my chest. “Alaric. We’ve…we’ve actually met. Kind of.”

  “So, you understand the severity of the situation. I’m telling you this because I want to make sure you know what might happen if we do nothing to stop this. If magic truly does die, the number of gargoyle shifters in this world will go from five to zero. They will all become permanent stone.”

  A gaping hole yawned below me at the thought. It was the very same thing I’d been worrying over the past several days. The winged powerful men were so vibrant, so alive. I couldn’t imagine them stuck in stone for the rest of eternity. But Kipling was right. If magic died, so would they.

  But it was more than that.

  “Do you think the current state of this city has anything to do with me? And anything to do with the deaths of all the demigods?”

  “You've been kept hidden away all your life,” he said. “Your powers have been dulled. I don't think it’s a coincidence that the shifters have lost their magic during this time.”

  A new steely resolve settled over me. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  “There’s a sword,” he continued, as if he’d been ready and waiting for me to say the word. “It’s one Hecate left behind. Apparently, it should give you strength in your powers. All those years taking the poison has dulled you. I believe that’s why you weren’t able to tap into your power until your emotions were so strong. But if you find the sword, you should become the demigod you are. And maybe, just maybe, the City of Wings will become alive again.”

  He pressed the book into my lap, open to an image of the weapon.

  I nodded, recognizing it in an instant. “I know where it is.”

  “Absolutely not.” Jasper clenched his jaw and threw his arms across his chest in a huff. “No way. Not happening, Ro.”

  “I will go without you,” I said quietly, watching him stalk from one end of the hall to the next. “But I would rather you were there by my side.”

  “No fucking way,” he snapped.

  “Marcus?” I turned toward my original savior. Out of them all, he was the one most likely to carry me out of this place, no questions asked.

  “Ah.” He winced. “I don’t know, love. This seems like a bad call.”

  I huffed. “Fine. Eli. You’ll take me, won’t you? The brawn might not see the need for this, but the brains will.”

  “Ro, my wing is wounded. Besides, I think we need to do more research before we—”

  “I’ll take you, Rowena,” said a quiet voice from the corner. I jerked up my head, surprised. Silas had been so broody, so quiet. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. But now he, out of all of them, was offering to help me.

  “For fuck’s sake, Silas,” Jasper snapped. “You can’t honestly believe it’s a good idea to fly Rowena into the middle of London and drop her into a castle that will be crawling with hunters, policemen, and goddess knows what else?”

  “I think it’s a terrible idea,” Silas said. “But I also agree that she needs to do it. If she can learn to tap into her powers, not only will she be able to protect herself, but she’ll be able to protect magic, too.”

  “We can protect her,” Jasper growled.

  “You won’t be able to protect me forever,” I said in a quiet voice, thinking of Alaric’s frozen stone form. “There may come a time when you’re not there to help me. I need to be able to control my powers. Harness them. Bring magic back into this world. And I can’t stay trapped in this place for the rest of my life.”

  At the word trapped, several of the shifters flinched.

  It had been the wrong word to use, but it’d also been the right one.

  Jasper scowled. “The sword is in Dreadford. Which is currently squatting right next to Buckingham Palace.”

  “We’ll go at night, when there are shadows. Tess will help me get in and out undetected. Silas will just take me far enough to get outside of the protective circle around this city. We can take the rest from there.”

  Silas pursed his lips, but he didn’t argue. None of them did.

  Silas had followed through on his part of the plan. He’d flown us to a tiny island halfway across the sea, and Tess had used her travelling spell to get us the rest of the way to London. He’d been quiet and broody when he’d dropped us off. But, he always was.

  As we’d turned away from him, he’d caught my wrist in his hand, and he’d given me such a piercing look that it felt as though it stripped me bare. And then he’d opened his mouth, shut it again, before launching from the ground on those powerful wings.

  I knew he hated what I was doing. But I was partially doing it for him. To save the shifters, I needed to save myself.

  London was, to put it mildly, nothing like I’d ever seen before. Tall buildings crowding in on every side. Lights. So many lights. Everywhere I turned there were lights. And cars and trucks and buses, whizzing by at impossible speeds.

  Tess ducked into a shadowy doorframe, grabbed my arm, and travelled us to a cluster of trees. Up ahead, I saw the majestic building of Buckingham Palace. And just behind it, where the Buckingham Palace Gardens should be…sat the dreary stone walls of Dreadford Castle.

  It was so surreal.

  I’d never seen Buckingham Palace—not in person, at least—and my gut just knew that this was all wrong. It even felt wrong. Like a strange shimmer in the air.

  Magic.

  “We’re getting into tricky territory now,” Tess said quietly. “We obviously don’t want to accidentally raise some kind of alarm and make people think we’re plotting an assassination of the Queen of England.”

  “That would not be ideal.”

  “There are a lot of spotlights,” she said, pointing. “And a lot of guards. I’m assuming there are various other alarms we could trip, but I’m not exactly an expert on their security systems.”

  If only.

  “Okay, I’m going to travel us closer to Dreadford. Don’t step anywhere once we get there. Hang on.”

  A moment later, we were crouching under a bush in the Gardens. Directly in front of us was Dreadford Castle’s drawbridge. They’d left it down, the easier to come and go, I supposed. And up, up, up were the twin towers on either side. There were several Queen’s Guards stationed up there.

  With a quick breath, Tess squeezed my arm, and a blur of shadows and mist went by. And then we were inside the castle, inside the Queen’s quarters. And the scent of it. Of stone and mildew, it brought back a rush of memories that made my stomach ache.

  It smelled like home.

  But it would never be my home again.

  “There it is,” she said, voice edged in awe.

  And I looked up at the sword that had been so close to me all these years. If only I had known, I could have taken it then. I could have been growing my powers. I could have been practicing, testing, learning. And maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t be so close to defeat now.

  I curled my hand around the gold-encased handle, and it sung to me. My veins filled with bright white heat, and the hair around my shoulders began to lift into the air. It was fierce wind, it was bitter night, it was the churning sea, and the rumble of the ground.

  And it was part of me.

  “Holy shit.” Tess whistled. “I think that settles it then. You’re definitely the daughter of Circe.”

  I just hoped that would be enough.

  “Alright, let’s get out of here before any of those guards see us.” She wrapped her hand
around my arm, and—

  And nothing happened.

  With a frown, she furrowed her eyebrows and grunted. Again, nothing happened.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  She let go of my arm. “Hang on a second. Let me check something.”

  A moment later, she was gone. And then just as quickly, her body shimmered in before me.

  “Right.” She frowned. “We’ve got a problem. It seems I’m not able to travel with the sword.”

  A yawning pit of despair opened up beneath me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s the whole reason we came. It’s the only way I can master who I am. Without it…I’m helpless. I can’t fix my powers. I can’t fix the city. The gargoyles will be doomed, Tess. Doomed.”

  “Calm down.” She squeezed my shoulders and dropped her forehead to mine. “I know, Ro. I know.”

  Ro. What Eli and Jasper liked to call me. Something about hearing it now made the panic ease in my gut.

  “We’ll just have to walk out of here with it.” Her smile was strained, but I knew she meant every word.

  “There are Queen’s Guards everywhere.”

  “Luckily, I’m a shadow witch.” She curled her fingers, and a cloud of darkness hugged her body, making her blend in with the night. “I’ll do my best to keep us hidden.”

  Chapter 20

  Shadows clung to every inch of my body, whispering dark thoughts into my head. I brushed them aside and kept moving. Inching, really. Tess was worried that if I didn’t stick to her like glue, I might step too far outside of her field of magic. And right into the light of the full moon.

  We made it through the Great Hall and across the courtyard without any issue. Closer and closer to the drawbridge, our feet squishing in the mud. When we finally reached the wall of the tower, I loosed a tightly-held breath but strengthened my grip on the heavy sword.