Iron Inheritance

by G. R. Fillinger

  “I was picturing the stars.” He leaned his head back and stared up at the pinpricks of light shining through the sky’s black velvet blanket. They were so clear this time of night that it was easy to pick out the constellations.

  “They remind me that there’s more to aspire to.” He smiled and closed his eyes serenely.

  Ria’s voice cut through the moment in an instant. “We wouldn’t know tradition yet. We just found out she’s a Graced. Personally, I’m hoping all this means she can fly, but that’s just me.”

  Josh tilted his head forward and looked through the rear view mirror at Nate, then straight at Ria, then me. “You just lost your grandpa and found out you’re a Graced on the same day? You must be fixin’ to go crazy right now.”

  I looked out at the dark landscape rushing past us to keep from thinking about it so much.

  “Hey.” Josh reached out and squeezed my hand.

  I squeezed back and wondered if it felt the same for him—the way our skin met, the way it felt so effortless to have his fingers next to mine.

  “Your job’s to keep me talking, right?”

  “Right.” I nodded and sniffed, looking back at him. “Next topic: favorite books.”

  “Comic or regular?” he asked instantly.

  I raised my eyebrows, intrigued. “Both,” I said like it was a challenge.

  He raised the right side of his mouth in a charming smirk. “We’re going to need a longer road trip for that conversation.”

  ***

  We pulled up to the corner of a two-story, Spanish-style building in the middle of a graffitied industrial area. Its white walls were the only ones without a flourish of spray paint. Instead, they towered over little red planters and manicured shrubs that populated the base of the sidewalk. A red tile roof traced the perimeter high above the dark reflective windows of the second story. The street was lined with cars on both sides and seemed to serve as a black moat between the building and the rest of the block. The final touch was a wood and wrought iron plaque on the wall that read: Los Angeles Patronage Community College.

  “This is an angel headquarters?” Ria looked up at the building with her mouth open.

  “Graced,” said Nate with a tense look around as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “Angels don’t really interact with Patrons or Babylonians anymore.”

  “Why the hell not?” I said with a sly grin.

  Josh smirked at my wordplay. “Angels have let Patrons down too many times,” said Nate darkly. “Now the only interaction between humans and angels is when angels siphon off some of their essence to create more Graced. It all happens at birth, and most people don’t even find out what they are until they’re teenagers. It’s a sore subject around Patrons, so try not to mention it.”

  Ria and I nodded with the same limited amount of motion, our eyes not leaving Nate as he stood there. The boy we grew up with was gone again, and before us stood someone ancient beyond our comprehension…and yet he was here with us? He chose to protect me?

  “What about Guardians? They like you, don’t they?” asked Ria.

  Nate shook his head.

  “But I thought you said Patrons don’t even consider you an angel because you’re just a little higher than the Graced,” I said before I could stop myself. Part of me wanted to know all this, to explore the secret Grandpa had hidden from me my whole life, while the other part cried to curl up into a ball and go home.

  Nate nodded with a slight grimace and started to lead us to the corner of the building. “That’s true, but Guardians have let them down as much as the angels—maybe more.”

  “Why?” asked Ria.

  “Because we don’t always follow their plans for the greater good. Our job has always been to protect a single person—it’s what Guardians were made to do. We believe that so much that most of us have died off trying to protect our charges. Yes, we can die,” he added when Ria started to say something else.

  He stopped at a wrought iron gate at the corner of the building’s white wall and glanced back at me momentarily.

  Is that what he wished had happened? That he’d died instead of Grandpa?

  Could I really admit that I didn’t wish the same thing sometimes?

  “Don’t worry about it too much. I just didn’t want you to be surprised and try to defend me.” He looked at Ria like he was reading her mind. “It’s not worth the effort.”

  Josh coughed loudly, and Nate held the gate open, signaling for me to follow Josh with a glance up at the sky.

  He was still afraid someone was going to attack us—even here.

  Inside the thick castle walls, a rectangular courtyard of grass and decomposed granite walkways crisscrossed beneath tall, green magnolia trees and antique lampposts. Stone benches and tables were scattered around what I guessed would be the shadier areas once the sun rose. As the sky lay now, the stars were out, and the moon was the only light worth having as it washed the courtyard clean of every imperfection.

  To the side, a series of thick, white, columned arches sprung into view, each supporting a single-story red roof that traced the buildings’ interior. Under it, rustic brown doors were set every ten feet or so into the two main buildings. None of them were marked. I soaked in every door and wall, wondering if Grandpa knew about this place…why he’d never told me about it.

  Josh’s shoulder brushed against mine as I started for one of the doors. Instant warmth spread through my arm.

  “Patrons turned their headquarters into colleges about thirty years ago,” he said, the dark circles under his eyes making me more and more concerned as I looked back at him. “All Patrons come to colleges like these after high school now. Whole families end up passing through most of the time since angel essence tends to stay with the same bloodline.”

  Whole families of Patrons? Kids and parents and…Why hadn’t Grandpa just told me the truth?

  “Why did you want to transfer here?” asked Ria, coming even with Josh and me.

  “I want to train for a third year under Denisov—she’s practically in charge of the whole military arm of Patron society. There aren’t too many Patrons who actually go out and fight anymore, but Denisov trains almost all of them.” Josh continued to talk even as his legs started to wobble and he had to lean against a wall to keep himself upright.

  “Come on. Let’s get you to the infirmary,” said Nate, grabbing Josh’s arm.

  Josh twisted out of it and inhaled calmly. “My orders are to report to Morales first when I arrive. That’s where you’re headed, so I’ll go with you.”

  “Even though you’re about to fall over?” I said.

  “With Denisov, everything’s a test—even this. If I don’t do exactly as I was ordered, I could be kicked out tomorrow. There aren’t many people allowed to stay on a third year.” Josh set his jaw and marched forward, drawing strength from somewhere deep within.

  “Morales will be in her office.” Nate passed us and pulled open a brown door like all the others.

  “Come around here often, do you?” Ria raised her eyebrows and went through the door.

  The hallway walls matched the outside’s smooth white plaster. Even more brown wood doors peppered them every few feet, green landscape paintings hanging between each. A faint sound of two people in a heated debate echoed across the tile floor.

  “These are the faculty offices.” Nate led us to the end of the hall and rapped his knuckles on the last door.

  Two heightened voices silenced themselves immediately. The higher pitched of the two said, “Come” before Nate had even lowered his hand to his side.

  He twisted the knob, and we stepped into an oddly angled office with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves towering over an ornate desk and a wingback chair. To the side, a slender woman with brown hair, a long neck, and oval glasses tethered to a gold chain greeted us with a thin-lipped smile. Beside her, a harsh, sculpted woman with short gray hair and a black tank top stood with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed like a hawk’s.

&
nbsp; “Nathaniel Warder? How long has it been?” The more slender of the two inclined her head politely with a forced smile still stretched across her lips.

  “Dean Morales.” Nate bowed. “This is Ria Merced.” He extended his hand toward Ria. “Josh…”

  “Spaulding.” Josh nodded, standing at attention the best he could as his cheeks turned paper white.

  “And Evelyn Brooks,” Nate finished.

  Morales’ eyebrows disappeared into her prominent bangs, her head tilting very slightly to the woman on her left. “We’ll continue our discussion later, Denisov. Thank you for your time.”

  I glanced back at Josh to confirm that’s who he was trying to impress.

  He didn’t meet my eyes.

  Denisov uncrossed her arms and turned her narrowed eyes into a scowl. Without one word or a second glance at any of us, she marched out the door.

  Josh remained at attention even after she left.

  “Now, please explain.” Morales smiled at Nate with a warmth that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I have been a Guardian over Solomon Brooks and his granddaughter for the past eighteen years.”

  She nodded with pursed lips, set her chin in her hand, and said, “What’s happened?” Her eyes focused on me without really seeing me and then turned to Nate.

  Nate hesitated, forming his words carefully. “We were attacked by a Babylonian, possibly Kovac.”

  “Definitely Kovac,” Josh cut in, still staring straight ahead.

  I looked sideways at Nate. How could he think it wasn’t Kovac? We saw him, heard him speak.

  “For how powerful it was, it could have been a demon that—” Nate began.

  “There are demons, too?” asked Ria, halfway between horrified and thrilled.

  Morales silenced Ria with a quick look and nodded for Nate to continue.

  “Though we took precautions to shield all of Ms. Brooks’ essence, it appears that Kovac was able to track her after she was involved in an altercation.”

  “Where did this take place?” Morales’ gold glasses swung on their chain as she turned and surveyed a shelf of books behind her.

  “Las Vegas.”

  She nodded without looking back at us. “Such a dark place would, in theory, shield her and Solomon. Very clever.” The corner of her mouth pinched wryly, only half of her face visible.

  Nate nodded. “I was knocked unconscious, and Solomon sacrificed himself for Evelyn. There is little trace of either Solomon or the attacker left.”

  Morales ran her hand across the spines of her books like the keys of a piano. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” she said hollowly, her mind elsewhere. “Please, sit.”

  Ria and Nate sat down, and I started pacing in front of Josh as he leaned against a side table, sweat dripping down his forehead.

  Something about this place, this woman, wasn’t right. How could she help us? Why would Grandpa have wanted us to come to a Patron headquarters in the first place? What could they offer that I couldn’t get on my own?

  I looked back at Josh momentarily.

  Why was he so hell-bent on impressing her?

  Morales’ hand hovered for a moment over a thick red volume with a peeling spine before she turned back toward us with her eyes closed, hand still perched next to the book. “You’re sure it was a sacrifice?”

  Nate nodded. “Ms. Brooks saw a blinding white light, and then both Solomon and the attacker were gone.”

  Morales stood still for another moment, her gaze swiveling across each person in the room. When she ran out of people, she took her hand down without pulling the book. “I would expect nothing less from the great Solomon,” she said finally, a slight edge in her voice. “I am sorry you had to find out about us this way, Evelyn. When your grandfather left us, he took more from Patron society than we knew. It was said that you’d died with your mother.” She paused to allow me to speak.

  My mouth hung open. Of course she knew about my mom. Of course my mom was a Patron—a Graced. The photographs of her I’d memorized as a kid suddenly took on new meaning. Even they were hiding something. How many other things, how many other people in my life were going to do that?

  “We searched but were never able to find you, obviously.” Morales continued. “Still, you’re here now, and Solomon has achieved a great triumph in his sacrifice—a feat not attained since World War II, if I am not mistaken. He will be remembered, and whatever or whoever attacked you is gone now. I will schedule a ceremony for some time in July when more people who knew him personally can attend.” She whipped her hand back at a second’s thought and pulled the red book down, letting it plop open on her desk.

  “Dean, forgive me,” said Nate, every word as crisp and polite as he could make it. “But I don’t think this is over. Killing a Babylonian leader, if that’s what he really was, is going to launch us into a war like you haven’t—”

  “Us?” Morales straightened to her full height, and I suddenly understood the true divide between Patrons and Guardians. “For now, we will observe. If Kovac was indeed behind this attack and has been killed, we will hear of it soon. I will organize a team to discern who is set to take his place.” She looked down at the book and flicked through several pages in rapid succession with her index finger, her eyes moving side to side like she was absorbing every word on every page.

  “We have maintained peace with the Babylonians for this long. I will not be the one to upset the balance.” She spoke each word with an academic precision that pronounced death just as flatly as the black letters on the white pages.

  “You expect us to just sit around and wait for you to figure out what’s going on?” I said, my mouth voicing the knot in my chest that tightened the longer I stayed in this room. “To find the people responsible for murdering my grandpa?”

  I had to do something. Even if Kovac was really dead, he was part of the Babylonians, and Nate had said the Babylonians hated Grandpa. There had to be more people behind this.

  Josh swayed next to me, his eyelids drooping.

  Morales put her glasses back on and looked at me with pursed lips. “The person responsible is already dead. Sacrifice ensures that,” she said crisply. “Justice has been done, and the balance has been maintained for now—a life for a life. You will come to learn that this is a very delicate system—the scales of good and evil. The Graced are responsible for keeping the balance. If the Babylonians are reaching for more power and influence, we will soon know and be able to take an appropriate countermeasure.”

  I chewed on my tongue and narrowed my eyes. Did these people really think like this? Like life was some feng shui, yin yang crap? I didn’t have to wait for the Babylonians to make their next move. They’d made their move already. They’d killed my grandpa, they’d killed my mom.

  I shook my head, and Nate’s eyes pleaded with me to keep it in, just to hold it all back for now.

  No. Now it was my turn to make them pay. I clenched my fists and stared straight through Morales.

  Until Josh grunted and hit the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I woke in a cold sweat, my eyes wide to darkness. After we’d carted Josh off to the infirmary, Ria and I had been set up in the girls’ dormitory on the second floor. It was small, clean, and outdated. Two steel-framed beds on opposite sides of a beige room. Heavy wood desks between them. A single window in the middle.

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I found a faint ring of gold that framed the edges of the curtain over the window. The sun was making a valiant attempt to get in, but to no avail.

  I blinked several more times and tried to remember my last thought—the one that had finally sent me to what was little more than a nap. Something about Grandpa? My mom?

  I massaged the silver wing of my necklace and listened to Ria breathe in and out slowly. It was so steady, peaceful.

  My mind was the opposite.

  My mom hadn’t died because of me, because I was born.

&
nbsp; She’d been murdered.

  By the same man who’d murdered Grandpa.

  Who lied to you all your life about everything.

  And not just the big stuff.

  There were the crazy swords and whips of essence.

  And Nate.

  He was the only one I could be angry at now because he’d lied…

  And he wasn’t dead. He’d watched over me my whole life even though I’d only known him for four years. All the time in the world for him to tell me the truth, the fact that if I lost control of my emotions and almost beat some sleazy guy to death, Babylonians would see my essence and come running.

  Or flying or whatever Kovac had done with that black beehive of tar floating around him.

  I clenched the sheets between my fingers and balled my hands into fists. My heart thudded in the side of my throat, and the darkness ceased to press in on me anymore.

  Kovac’s game show smile flashed through my mind with a bolt of black electricity trailing behind. He was the reason for all of this.

  My fists lost their tension in an instant. Now that he was dead, I couldn’t do a thing. No punching him until my knuckles bruised, no making him pay for everything he’d ever done to my family and everyone else’s…no justice.

  “You grind your teeth loud enough to wake the dead.” Ria flicked on the lamp next to her bed and flooded the room with light.

  I tightened my jaw and clamped my eyelids shut to keep the light out. They’d grown so used to the darkness.

  “Sorry, bad joke.” Ria crept over to my bed. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.” I opened my eyes and glanced at her. Her hair was knotted, and purple half-moons rested under her eyes. Even so, she had a certain glamour to her.

  She nudged me aside and lay down, eyes to the ceiling. “Remember the last time we went camping with Grampy? All the stars?”

  My muscles relaxed as I remembered the twinkling lights. “You hated it.” I laughed, pushing back tears.

  Ria bumped my shoulder. “Not always. It was just the food, the sand, the sweat, the blankets, and the chairs.”

  “Was that all?”