Scales: Book 1 of the Fate and Fire Series

by Amity Green

  Ezra’s words waltzed ironically back into my mind. “Boygoyle and girlgoyle.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You tried to talk him out of keeping me.”

  “You tried to run off,” he countered. He didn’t respond with I was wrong, or even I didn’t know you then.

  I would not accept the assumption that he didn’t want me there. Peter had done too much

  to show me the contrary. I was there. Time for ticker tape and cotton candy.

  The laundry machines hummed a discordant conversation, sloshing and tumbling.

  “The thing with Kai ….” He sighed. “He’s just one of the reasons you were told to stay in the store.”

  “Well it’s not exactly that easy, Peter,” I snapped. “I feel so confined here. I need to run and think. I love London and I’m finally here. Of course I want to get out of the store sometimes. And I met him before all these things happened to me.” I sighed and rubbed my rough forehead.

  Peter stepped toward me. I backed up and he kept coming. My wings slapped flat on the wall. Our bodies met, triggering our human forms to be seen, his soft skin a contradiction to the hardened force driving him. His grey eyes sparked. “Let’s get one thing lined out.” Our faces were centimeters away, hot breath pouring across my skin. One of his hands cupped my jaw, tilting it upward. I focused slowly on his eyes, then his lips. He crushed me close and more sensitive skin collided. I held my breath.

  “You will not see Kai. Not even if you are on fire, will you ask his assistance.” He tilted his head, lining us up perfectly, searching my face. Anticipation jumped in my stomach.

  The buzzer on Ezra’s dryer sent an electrified alarm through the confines of the laundry room so loud I jumped, feeling the top of my head bump against Peter’s nose. It was the most nerve-wracking sound I’ve ever been subjected to.

  “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry, Peter!” I grabbed both sides of his head so I could examine his face. “Are you okay?”

  The separation of our bodies triggered our gargoyle forms. Peter’s tail twitched on the floor and I bounced on my haunches, still gripping his head. He was bent over so far he might fall on top of me.

  “I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his snout. “Let go of my head,” he growled.

  “Sorry.” I released my grip and walked to a dryer that was stopped. I jerked the door open a little too hard. Our work shirts spilled to the floor before I could catch them with my tail, knees and one hand. The boney tips of my wings cracked down against the tile floor. “Crap.”

  “You need to come to me when you need to get out of here.”

  I didn’t look at him.

  “I’ll take you out for a little flight as soon as we’re done with our clothes.”

  “That would be great.” I had to admit, it was the best change of subject I’d ever heard.“Good. Mayhap we won’t fly into any buildings this time.”

  “Mayhap, indeed.”

  * * *

  We soared for hours above London. We played tag. We held clawed hands and did loops in the sky under a cloud-covered moon. The playful demeanor I loved about him remained, but it was held in check underneath a new, regal dimension. When he flew, Peter owned the sky. I barely had to pump my wings when we held on to one another. He flew with such strength he pulled me with him effortlessly. He tugged me into spiraling summersaults that made me giggle and scream with excitement. He pulled me close, and flew with me mere inches below him, staring into my eyes as we glided on the heavy, wet air. I longed to be closer to him but I knew if our bodies even touched a little bit, we’d return to human form and plummet. Scaly as it was, at least we could hold hands and still have wings. A light drizzle began to fall, coating us with moisture. I drifted below him, shielded from gentle rain by the massive umbrella of his charcoal wings.

  Peter gleamed as if he was made of polished onyx in the damp atmosphere of night. He was sleek and powerful when he flew. An obsidian demigod of the night sky. I was charmed beyond my comprehension. He became everything to me in our world above the city.

  Chapter 15

  I slowed at the red post box, dropped two more postcards and kept running, almost without missing a beat. I been mailing the cards ritually for the last two weeks. It was a connection I could have with Brea and Professor Douglas. I considered using one of the matching red phone booths to call but the thought of lying to either of them via post and verbally put a quick stop to the idea. I could be a coward and tell a big fib indirectly. So the postcards were going out more frequently. It wasn’t so bad. I found the most amazing shots of London on those cards. The beautiful images outweighed the ugly little white lies I told on the backs. Or so I continued to tell myself.

  I ran more during the mornings than I ever had at night at the Home, and I could tell from the way my clothes fit. I used to have a little extra curve here and there, especially along my hips. The remaining, slightly chubby, youthful appearance was leaving me. My human body had become lean and toned. My feet felt light and I ran faster every day. My expanded route covered more ground.

  Ezra was waiting for me at the back door when I came through the alley. It had been weeks since I’d seen him, the last time being when the new gargoyle ran away. Deep down I’d known he was aware I left the store. It was time to pay the figurative piper for my dance of freedom.

  Oddly enough, he didn’t look mad.

  “How was your outing?” He opened the door for me and we went inside.

  “It was good.” I worked hard not to betray the anxiety in my stomach. Ezra would always make me nervous. He was a thief that smiled while he stole me blind. “Where have you been?” Switching the spotlight to him probably wasn’t going to work, but I might as well have tried.

  “Business,” he said.

  I didn’t question that at all. Ezra straddling a broomstick, flying off into the night briefcase in hand, silhouetted against a yellow moon flashed through my mind. I gave an unwilling snort.

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  I ignored it.

  The stairs to my room beckoned from out of reach, maybe 15 feet away that may as well have been a mile. The urge to bolt was held in check by my well-instilled manners. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in trouble. But Ezra was no nun. Not even as easy-going as one of the most cantankerous ones at the Home.

  “I just want to go to my room, shower and come down to work for the day.” Despite the cool air, a coat of sweat glistened on my skin. I didn’t smell all that great.

  “You’ve been doing a great job here, dear girl. Peter has told me good things.”

  “You’ve talked with Peter?” Peter hadn’t mentioned it. He didn’t feel a need to check in with me, apparently.

  “We chat weekly, if not more frequently. He keeps charge well in my absence.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t thought of Peter as being in charge. I offered nothing, lest I say something the two hadn’t discussed, and the conversation was pushing me further into isolation. I stepped toward the stairs.

  He followed. “Have you had anymore contact with Kai, Tessa?”

  “Not since the last time I saw him in the alley. It’s been a couple weeks.” I wondered if he knew everything I told Peter. It figured.

  “Good. There is something you need to be aware of. The mornings are getting shorter, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. I set an alarm on my iPod while I run to give myself time to get back here and get a shower.”

  “You’re a good girl. Very responsible.”

  “Have you found that girl that changed and ran off?” Speaking of responsibility ….

  “Not a trace of her. But not to worry yourself over her. You just keep up the good work around the store.” He stopped walking. We’d made it to the stairwell.

  “Will you be around the store later?” I took the first step, hoping he would leave the store and take the nervous edge off my day.

  “I’ve got to run, I’m afraid. Duty calls. Be well, Tessa. And
stay close to the store. The morning outings are fine and expected. But please stay close to Peter.”

  “Of course, Ezra.”

  “And far, far away from Kai.”

  I stopped midstride to look at him when he said that last request. He was already walking away. Kai must have done something seriously wrong to make both Peter and Ezra warn me about him. I thought jealously motivated Peter, but Ezra was a different matter entirely. Kai made my skin crawl. He was beautiful, true, but the nastiness in him outweighed his physical appearance and made me see him in a different light. Neither Peter nor Ezra needed to worry about me looking to hang out with him.

  Only a few minutes of my shower time remained but I was relieved the conversation with Ezra went smoothly. Our first encounter in weeks could have gone much, much worse.

  I was so thankful Ezra didn’t know Peter took my flying.

  * * *

  “I’ve decided it isn’t fair that I get to read whatever I want and you don’t,” I said and dropped “The Importance of Being Earnest” onto the leather couch beside Peter. It was early afternoon and I’d decided he could use some humor. Business was slow at the store. Peter would lock up in a few minutes. We could Garg Out and we could read some trivially ridiculous comedy for a while. It sounded like a pretty good way to spend a Friday night to me. I plopped onto the couch and opened my journal to write for a bit while he closed the store.

  Peter grinned down at me with a smile that made my tummy flip a little. In the beginning, I’d managed to ignore how attractive he was. It seemed I was reminded every time we were together for the last few days.

  “How thoughtful of you to rescue me.” He eyed the book warily.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He tried to imitate my accent. “I’d better go turn the sign.”

  “I’d better go turn the sign,” I bantered back, in my best British.

  He laughed and got up as I opened my notebook and began jotting down my thoughts.

  September 2—Happy birthday to me. I don’t feel 19, and am not sure exactly what that’s supposed to feel like. I’m not a typical teen. I don’t want to celebrate a birthday anyway, not that anyone knows about it. Or in the case of Brea, anyone who can do anything about it. I’m going to celebrate my inner nerd by sinking into some Willie Shakes with Peter.

  It’s been getting pretty chilly around here in the afternoons. I’m curious to see what winter will be like. I’ll bet it snows a ton.

  * * *

  Peter was back up right after the bells sounded at the door. The night was officially ours. I’d started a fire in the gas fireplace in front of the couch and warmth radiated cozily from the faux logs into to the room.

  Only a few of the nooks in the store had fireplaces or old, coal-burning stoves. I liked the alcove I chose to journal in daily for the homey feel of a hearth, and also because it was close to the entrance of the store so I could hear Peter lock up every day. Knowing I wasn’t alone in the store comforted me. It was what it was.

  Peter took a seat on the couch, spreading his arms across the top of the cushions. He gave a half smile as I pulled the book from beside me and opened the cover, peeling pages.

  I snapped the book shut and dropped it onto the carpet. The pages were blank.

  “Frustrating, isn’t it? We could read nursery rhymes, if you like,” he said with a wink.

  “I thought you told him to change them back now.”

  “I did. He thought better of it and I can’t blame him for his concern.” Peter looked to the vast, towering shelves that ran from the ground floor and reached even higher than the second story where we sat. “I know these volumes so very well. For a time, I was lost in the darkest of tales here, and craved the most pained story.” He pulled his eyes from the shelves and locked his charcoal gaze with mine as I tried not to tear up.

  “One final night I continued to obsess with adding my own to the best and worst of tragedies. That’s when I went to Ezra. He changed the books and only after that did he share the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to take my own life.”

  “He would have stopped you?” I’d listened to him talk, fighting the urge to grab his hand or hug him close.

  “He wouldn’t have had to. We gargoyles can never fall to our own hand. At any rate, he saw the books as the problem and followed through.” He smiled. “And I’ve never had anyone try to read to me before. I thought it might work, although I’m certain I’m the problem, not you.” He got up from the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

  I was too shocked to do anything but nod. Peter seemed so together. I’d never pictured him fighting inner darkness that way.

  I got up to shake it off. I’d go bonkers if I couldn’t read so I didn’t know how he could stand it. It was one of the perks of working in a bookstore. I wondered if it would do any good to talk to Ezra. I doubted it.

  Peter returned with a MP3 player and a small speaker dock, which he plugged in and set playing low. I’d never heard the music that he selected, but I liked it. Only instrumental, it was slow, with a resonating, hypnotic rhythm.

  He held out a hand. “May I?”

  I hesitated for about a millisecond. Dancing slow, the way he proposed, was something I’d never done. I stepped into his arms like I was crossing a stream by way of a few, staggered, slippery rocks. We swayed slowly while I concentrated on not stomping on his feet.

  “Shouldn’t let our nice fire go to waste, yes?” His voice was deep, resounding against my chest when he spoke. Goosebumps streaked down my spine.

  “No, we shouldn’t. This is nice.” I realized my arms were up and hoped my deodorant would last the rest of the day.

  One song led into another and we didn’t stop dancing for the brief silence in between. He caressed my back and pulled his fingers through strands of my hair. I held onto him, hypnotized by the physical contact of our bodies touching.

  “Happy birthday, Tessa Conley.”

  “How did you know it’s my birthday?” I was stunned.

  “You left your student identification card on your desk the night I helped you clean up your room.”

  I sighed and hugged him close. “Thank you.”

  He kissed the crown of my head. It was getting late out and I snuggled in tightly. When I let go of him I’d be a gargoyle and I wanted to make the comfort of his embrace last as long as I could. We danced away the time into darkness, not needing a single word between us.

  Glass shattered at the storefront, followed by a crash. Someone, or something, screeched like an angry cat. A really big one. Our separation made us gargoyles in an instant and I faltered, smacking a wing against the flat of the couch. I tripped, unceremoniously lunging toward the stairs with my legs pumping to try to catch up.

  Peter leapt over the banister, gliding toward the floor below. I reacted fast, sailing over the handrail, pumping my wings twice and flew past him before he touched down. He landed half a second after me, looking at me a little oddly. I shrugged, not knowing what to say about my burst of speed, but impressed all the same.

  Broken glass and shards of wood peppered the front room. A chipped piece of a statue that I recognized as part of a decorative elephant from around London had come to a stop at the foot of a tall bookcase.

  “Bloody hell,” Peter said, under his breath.

  “Holy crap,” I mumbled. “It’s her.” The runaway gargoyle stood in the broken out doorway, chest heaving. She screamed and hurled two more pieces of elephant statue into the store. I dodged them easily, moving fast to stand by Peter.

  Human eyes in a snake’s face squinted on him. She took a couple steps inside, gaze still locked, and sat back on her haunches, wings spread in a horned fan behind her, tail whipping back and forth in the debris. She continued to stare intently at Peter, who seemed shocked, gazing back at her.

  I reached for the nearest piece of broken, stone elephant and whipped it at her. She ducked the missile and hissed at me.

  “Get the hell out of here,”
I commanded, the Texan in me tainting my words with a heavily pronounced drawl. I don’t know where my audacity came from, but she’d chosen to do two things that she shouldn’t have. First, she trashed my home, aka the bookstore, and second, she’d gotten a real long look at my very good friend, Peter, who was oh, so very far off limits. The destruction at the front of the store marred the entire entryway. Sounds from the London night echoed softly through the broken storefront, cool, damp air following on its heels, heavily laden with humidity and frost.

  I was a second away from exploding at her. “Are you deaf or just plain stupid?” I took a step forward. I don’t know exactly what I planned to do, but it was going to be substantial. My proper-Southern-girl alter ego was terribly unladylike in my gargoyle form, and it felt great. Heat rushed through my blood. I hissed back, mocking her. My wings beat slowly, lifting my heels from the floor.

  Peter grabbed my arm. “Really, Tessa, that’s quite plenty,” he growled, giving my arm a hard squeeze.

  “I’ll be back for you,” she said. After one last glance in Peter’s direction, she turned away, fluid in the backdrop of night, and was gone in an instant.

  I turned to the destructed front end. “What a mess.” Books were destroyed, as was the glass from the front window on the right. The thick, wooden door hung split, the hinges still fastened to the frame but holding only a slender strip of what had been a regal entryway. Plaster dust and colorful pieces of elephant statue lay around the room. Cold air gusted hard from outside, allowing a fresh burst of damp wind to buffet us. Shards of busted glass and cracked paint chips mixed with small hunks of wood in the breeze, scooting around as if in search of each other. We watched from behind a book station, careful to stay out of sight in case someone walked by in the sleepy court.

  “Ezra will be livid.” Peter kicked at a piece of splintered wood. “This store is really all he has.”

  “Well, he can’t be too angry about it.” I stated.

  “Why is that?”

  “Indirectly, this is his fault.”