Incarnate (A Spellmason Chronicle)

by Anton Strout

  Coming up over the edge of the neighboring rooftops, I searched for movement anywhere. Even with the moonlight being as bright as it was, my eyes caught nothing until I had set Alexandra down on top of the taller of the two buildings.

  Only then did I notice the nearly still figure crouched at the edge of the rooftop.

  The figure was in the same larger-than-life scale as mine, its features far less bat-winged and demonic than my own. This other creature was a carved angel, complete with full, feathery stone wings, long locks of curled hair, and the smooth skin of its features. It crouched at the edge of the rooftop in contemplation of an object I could not make out in its hands.

  Stepping closer, I saw what it was—the head of another statue, its features far more demonic than mine with curved horns rising up from its forehead. The edge of the severed stone head was jagged, bits of stone flaking away from it like burning ash onto its broken body far down below in the alley.

  “Hold it right there,” Alexandra said.

  I flourished open my wings to increase my size in the hopes of looking more menacing. “Do not attempt to flee,” I said. “You will not find any escape.”

  The angel contemplated the two of us for a long moment, menace in his eyes as he clutched the demonic head in his hands. I was prepared to protect Alexandra should he throw it, but her face showed no fear. She looked unmovable.

  The angel held his ground, neither attacking nor surrendering.

  “Easy, there,” she said, waving her hand for him to lower the severed head. “Let’s take this slow. Why don’t you start with who you are and we can get to who that was later?”

  The menace went out of the angel as he stepped down off the ledge of the roof.

  “Forgive me,” he said with a deep bow. “My manners are a bit rusty, what with just having been attacked. Who am I? In my human life I was once known as Nathaniel Crane.”

  Alexandra smiled, but did not relax, her hand hovering over the pocket she kept her spell book in. “Well, Mr. Crane, I suggest you drop that gargoyle in your hands,” she said with more authority than I was used to hearing out of her. “And don’t even think about trying to fly away. You’ve got a lot to answer for here, outside of the fact you almost got me killed down below in that alley.”

  I expected the angel to bolt, to fly off. I did not expect him to stare at us with wry amusement.

  “Forgive me once more,” he said, “but who made you the adjudicator on such manners?”

  The tone was dismissive and I could not help but growl. I stepped forward, but Alexandra pressed her hand against my chest, stopping me.

  “Well,” she said, “for lack of a better term, I’m your creator. I made you.”

  The angel seemed unimpressed. “And I should just take your word on that?”

  Alexandra shrugged. “That’s up to you,” she said. “You asked.”

  “Well, this is a rare opportunity,” he said. “It is not often one gets to ask their creator questions on the spot.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Oh, let’s start with the big one,” he said with a wide grin. “Why am I here? I didn’t get those answers in my human life, so let’s try now.”

  “I wish I could give you a better answer, but you—all of your kind except Stanis here—were a mistake. One I’ve come to regret more and more.”

  “I think, perhaps, you should be the one answering questions here,” I said. “Starting with why you are holding the head of one of our kind in your hands.”

  “This?” he said, holding up the demonic face, frozen in an eternal snarl. “Friend of yours?”

  I shook my head. “I have no knowledge of this particular grotesque, no,” I said. “But I do protect all of my kind . . . or at least attempt to bring them into the fold of my people. What cause did you have for such brutality against one of our own?”

  The angel laughed at that. “We may all be carved of stone, and by the looks of it, the same carver, but make no mistake,” he said. “We are not all of the same kind. This one, for instance.”

  “Why?” Alexandra asked.

  “What grievance had you with him?” I added.

  “This one was quite a salesman,” the angel said. “He tried to bring me into his fold, too. He wished me to join the cause of one he served.”

  “It was not my cause,” I said.

  “Let me guess,” Alexandra said. “The Butcher of the Bowery.”

  The angel looked amused and nodded. “Word of him seems to be getting around, yes.”

  “And I take it he wouldn’t take no for an answer?” Alexandra asked.

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t so much him asking as it was him telling me I had to join his cause,” he said. “And me? Well, I’m not much of a joiner.”

  “What did he tell you about his cause?” I asked.

  “Our conversation didn’t quite get down to that level of detail,” he said. “I figured if I was being told to serve someone called the Butcher of the Bowery, it wasn’t exactly going to prove to be all rainbows and sunshine.”

  “So you took his life in stone from him,” I said.

  “This minion of the Butcher was crafty,” he said. “He was the sort to draw things out of you. In his case, he was seeking out . . . I believe cronies would be the best term for it.”

  “And just why did he think you would fit the bill for cronyism?” Alexandra asked.

  If stone could blush, I was sure it would have on Crane, given his sheepish look.

  “Despite my current appearance,” he said, “let’s just say that in my previous life I was a bit of a . . . problem child.”

  “What were you?” I asked.

  He pressed a hand to his chest as if deeply offended I even had to ask. “Nothing as gruesome as a murderous butcher, I assure you,” he said. “But I had earned a bit of a reputation at what I would call being a purloiner of other people’s goods.”

  Alexandra laughed. “A thief,” she said. “Let me guess: stealing form the rich, giving to the poor?”

  “I wish I could say I was that noble,” he said with a smile, “but no. I was far more self-serving than that, I’m afraid.” He flourished his wings to their full and impressive span, showing off the majesty of his angelic form. “It would seem this stone life I’ve been led to wishes me to atone for those crimes.”

  “These are interesting times in this city,” I said. “I would prefer the violence among my kind to be kept to a minimum.”

  “Yeah,” Alexandra added. “Humanity is already freaked-out about the amount of gargoyle action going on out there.”

  “We must police ourselves,” I said.

  “I did not do what I did idly,” the angel Nathaniel said.

  “Fine,” Alexandra said but sounded unsatisfied with his answer. “Then if you have to do something, could you maybe make sure there’s not a human standing in the alley below you before crumbling a body to bits?”

  The angel thought it over for a moment, as still as a statue in contemplation.

  “A fair and reasonable request,” he said with a deep bow.

  “Good,” Alexandra said, relaxing a little. Her face shifted, a look of reluctance overtaking it. She pointed to the head in his hands. “Do you think maybe we could have that?”

  “This?” the angel said, twisting the demonic head back and forth in his hand. “I do hope this is not how you spend your nights, collecting souvenirs of the dead.”

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head. “My father was the kind to mount the heads of his enemies on pikes as a warning to others. I prefer diplomacy to violence . . . when possible.”

  “To each his own,” the angel said, and tossed the head in our direction. I reached out and caught it in one hand, the dead stone eyes staring up at me.

  “Thank you,” Alexandra said, turning to me. “W
e can gather the rest up from the alley.”

  “Am I free to go?” the angel asked, making it clear he was not really asking for our permission.

  “This is not a police state,” I said. “You are free to do as you choose, as long as it does not interfere with the freedom of others. I am sorry to hear that you were put upon by this group that would wish harm upon the people of this city. However, if you hear from any more of the Butcher’s recruits, you can find me and my people by flying to the southern tip of Manhattan.”

  Alexandra nodded. “I’m sure you would be more than welcome at Sanctuary,” she added with a hopeful look at me.

  “Of course,” I said.

  The angel gave us a tight-lipped smile. “As I mentioned before,” he said, “I’m not much of a joiner.” He spread his wings and leapt into the sky. “I wish you luck in your endeavors. And who knows? Perhaps I will pay your Sanctuary a visit sometime.”

  I watched in silence as he flew away, the heaviness of the head in my hands growing every moment.

  “You okay?” Alexandra asked, resting a cool hand on my shoulder.

  “I will be,” I said, staring into the lifeless eyes of the demon, then looked to her, only to find Alexandra’s eyes locked on it as well.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Look at it,” she said. “Stone. So lifeless. This could be you, Stanis. It makes a woman think.”

  Lost in her own thoughts, it was difficult for me to read her face. “About what?”

  “About how short life could be,” she said.

  “I have had more than my fair share of a lifetime.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, then let out a long, slow breath. “With all we’ve been through, sometimes I forget it could end at any moment, and I don’t want things to go unsaid, especially when they need saying.”

  “I hope you know you can always speak your mind with me,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said, nerves in her voice. “Here it is. I’m sorry if I’ve been short with you . . . when talking about Emily. I think it comes from a place of . . . jealousy. I mean, she gets to be with you practically all the time.”

  “You do not approve of her?” I asked, taken aback by her admission.

  Her face twisted with frustration. “No,” she said. “It’s just . . . Well, why did you never try with me?”

  I cocked my head at her. “Try?”

  “I miss more than just the protection you provided when you watched over the Belarus family,” she said. “It’s a dark thought, but since we’re being honest, I wonder sometimes if I should have released you from it. I know once you were freed of the bond, you went with your father to protect us, but part of me thought . . .”

  She could not finish what she had started to say, but I thought I understood.

  “You thought I would choose you once I was freed,” I said.

  She nodded in silence.

  “But you have Caleb,” I reminded her.

  “I know,” she said, “and he’s great. I just wanted to know why you never tried?”

  I gave her question careful consideration as I thought back on it. I had long held a deep affection for Alexandra, but I searched my soul for the answer.

  “Strangely enough it was Caleb who convinced me,” I said.

  It was Alexandra’s turn to cock her head at me. “I’m sorry; what?”

  “On my father’s floating palace barge,” I said with a nod. “We had both gone there to contend with Kejetan. It was there he convinced me he would be a better fit for you.”

  “Frankly, I don’t think that’s something for him to decide,” she said, anger rising in her voice.

  “He made a convincing argument,” I said. “He is of your kind, can walk in the day with you, live out a mortal life by your side . . .”

  “What if you could do all that?” she said, shaking with rage, but her face full of earnestness now. “What if you could be the one at my side?”

  “That is not possible,” I reminded her.

  “But what if it was?” she pressed.

  I entertained the idea, as fruitless as it was. Could I imagine myself enjoying a life at Alexandra’s side, not as a construct made to serve her but as a companion. Yes, but still, reality kept me from speaking my mind on it.

  “I am not sure,” I said, my mind turning to thoughts of Sanctuary. “There are my people to think of . . .”

  “Unbelievable,” Alexandra said with a shake of her head, then looked up into my eyes. “Caleb conned you, Stanis. He took advantage of you to get what he wanted. Me. Stupid, Lex. This is what I get for trusting a reformed freelance criminal.”

  Had Caleb talked me out of my feelings for Alexandra? I was not sure. It was something I needed to think about, and judging by the severed stone head in my hands, there were more pressing issues to concern ourselves with. I lifted the head up.

  “Will this suffice for your needs?” I asked, focusing on the task at hand. “Will this please this Fletcher of yours?”

  “Let’s hope so,” she said, calming herself, even though I could sense her brooding underneath it all. “Who knows what’s going to impress an immortal hippie?”

  I grabbed her in my free arm, and started our descent to the body in the alley below. “Is that another idiom of yours that I fail to understand?”

  “Pretty much,” she said, “but we can go over that later. Right now I need to keep from shaking Caleb to death until his friend Fletcher gets us to the cemetery.”

  I descended in silence, surprised to find the idea brought a smile to the corner of my mouth.

  Seventeen

  Alexandra

  Having grown up in Manhattan, I was used to the city at night, but the dark twists and turns of deepest Central Park took on such an eerie calm compared to the bustle of the streets that I couldn’t hold back a shiver and stopped in my tracks.

  Caleb stopped on the dimly lit wooded path. He turned back to me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it in his, which normally would have given me a bit of joy out here in the darkness had I not just heard what Stanis had told me. Still, now was not the time to get into it, especially when there was work to be done.

  “You okay?” he asked as we stood alone on the dirty pathway under trees that arched high overhead.

  I nodded, suppressing the urge to shiver again. “Get a grip, Lexi,” I said out loud, for my benefit more than his.

  Caleb laughed. “You’ve fought stone golems in abandoned subway tunnels,” he said, “not to mention that weird water dragon thingie we faced at the Libra Concordia before it became Sanctuary. And this is what gets to you?”

  I slid my hand out of his and wrapped my arms around me. “I know it’s ridiculous, but being isolated out here in Central Park . . . Well, once I started dealing with arcana and grotesques, mundane things like muggings in the park or human-on-human violence seem to freak me more, okay?”

  “I can do this alone,” he said. “I’m sure Fletch can tour-guide me to this burial ground no problem.”

  “No,” I said, adamantly steeling myself. “Warren asked for my help. I need to do this. Besides, I can’t be letting you have all the secret cemetery fun. Fletcher has had that broken gargoyle to look over for days. It’s time your hippie madman lives up to his end of the bargain and takes us to that secret cemetery.”

  Caleb crossed his arms. “You want to tell me how you came by that stone body, by the way? Let me guess. The Rock helped you.”

  “Hey,” I said, surprised at his sudden jealousy and a little pissed off by it, given how he had talked Stanis out of showing his true emotions toward me. Even though this wasn’t the time to get into it, I couldn’t help but needle him a little bit to release some of the tension I felt in his presence now. “When you grow wings, I’ll let you fly me around the city hunting gargoy
les. Fair enough?”

  “I can work on that,” he said, pulling out a notebook.

  “Now?!” I asked, stern this time. “How about we focus on finding Fletcher first and getting to that cemetery?”

  A rustling rose up behind me off in the foliage and I spun, my spell book already pulled free from my backpack. I reached to open it, but a hand shot out of the bushes and came down hard on top of mine.

  “Did someone say my name?” Fletcher asked, looking even more wild-eyed than when I had last seen him during the day. Hopefully it was just a trick of the moonlight and he hadn’t gone feral since then.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Huh?” he said, his eyes fixing on the stone book I held in my hands.

  I slowly eased it away from him, but his hand was reluctant to slide off the book. Eventually it came free and I stuffed the book back into my pack.

  “You sure you’re up to this, Fletch?” I asked. “It was pretty freaky last time we were here, and we had greater numbers.”

  Fletcher nodded. “Absolutely,” he said with a jovial laugh. “If I can’t find the cemetery in the middle of my own park, who can?”

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “What I promised you,” he said. “I lead you to the cemetery.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “We already tried that, and you’re just going to try and walk us back in there? That didn’t work out so well for me and my friends. I’m pretty sure we pissed off your forest.”

  “That’s because you didn’t have me with you,” he said with a prideful laugh. “Relax, lady.”

  I tried to, but I couldn’t shake my doubt, even if I was dealing with some sort of forest spirit in Fletcher form.

  “You’re sure you’re up for this?” I asked once more.

  Fletcher nodded with vigor over and over. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If I seem out of sorts, it’s just that I’ve been a wee bit distracted examining that broken stone creature you acquired for me.”