by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 13
Conor
In France, the sun is up. It is 6 a.m. and cold.
"Is she alive?" Will asks as we drag ourselves onto the shore.
Emma hangs like a rag doll from my arms. She has passed out during the last leg of our journey through the Gulf and through the Atlantic. We have entered France through the Bay of Biscay.
"She's alive," I answer.
I can feel her heart beating against my chest. Her skin is warm even after being submerged in the cold winter waters. Rachel is searching the sky.
"You won't find any," I say. "They lost our trail when she passed out."
Rachel turns to look at me. Her pajamas are soaked, water dripping everywhere on the shore. Her blonde hair hangs limply down her back.
"How do you know?" she asks.
Roach slithers next to Rachel.
"Because the idiot swam the last couple of miles above water."
I feel the anger rise, but I ignore it. I will not be goaded. Not now.
"We need to go before we do have something to worry about."
No one argues. In one combined movement, we use powers as ancient as our ancestors to propel the water from our bodies before launching into the sky. Emma is dry now in my arms. Her cheeks are flushed, feverish. Her powers are growing. She is like no mark I have ever protected, whether Demon or human.
"She's not going to fit in there," Will says suddenly from my left. I don't look at him.
"They will eat her alive," Rachel adds. She is flying on my right. Roach is ignoring us, his serpentine body leading the way.
"I don't know. Something tells me she's going to surprise us all," I say, my eyes still focused on the sky ahead.
The landscape is changing. We have left the coast behind. There is a blur of green rolling hills below. There are mountains in the distance, and there are homes nestled among thick tree-lined hills. But we are focused on only one place, and I am relieved when I see the turret of the Acropolis. It is well hidden in the countryside.
Registered as a residence for the Moreau family, The Acropolis is a renovated medieval chateau of grey-white stone with a mostly straight facade broken up by arrow slit windows and a solitary tower and turret. Cypresses surround the property, mostly obscuring it from view. There is a forest to the back of the chateau. To the side is a small lake, and the main building is hemmed in by landscaped gardens surrounded by low stone fences. There are two outbuildings and a stable that have been renovated to form residence halls.
I gesture at one of the outbuildings, an old guardian's cottage, and we all land carefully on the roof. Each building, even the main, is rigged for quick entries from above. I crouch as Roach, Rachel, and Will enter ahead of me through a small terrace not originally part of the building. I hear greetings from inside, and I know our arrival is expected. My mother would have contacted the appropriate people.
"Do you need help, Conor?" a young female voice asks, and I look up to find Marion Durand leaning out of the terrace's entrance. She is a pretty girl, eighteen, with rosy cheeks, brown hair, and a round figure. Her father is the school's headmaster.
I smile at her because I know her offer is genuine. There isn't a mean bone in Marion's body.
"She's going to be very afraid when she wakes up," I say quietly as I lean into the entrance.
The room is a small one, a study used only by administrators, and it is made even smaller by our presence. Marion nods as she motions to her left. An African-American girl scrambles forward and together she and Marion take Emma from me. The dark-skinned girl is Deidra Alexander. She smiles as she passes. Emma is in good hands.
Marion hands Roach a pair of cotton drawstring pants as they approach the door. He has reverted to his human form and is completely naked but neither girl flinches. Modesty is not a part of gargoyle life especially among the shifter set.
Will is leaning wearily against the cottage's stone wall, and Rachel is standing next to a man of average build with brown hair in a casual tweed suit jacket over a white shirt and dark blue jeans.
"Mr. Durand," I say, extending my hand. I can hear the weariness in my own voice.
"Mr. Reinhardt," Gary Durand replies, his hand clasping mine tightly. My handshake is weak. My trip from France and back again, the battle with Demons, and the ocean journey has drained me.
"I am impressed," Durand says. His eyes move over us slowly. "Rachel, here, tells me you have traveled primarily through water to get here?"
I nod. Gary shakes his head, his face a mask of disbelief. Gargoyles have always had an affinity with water, but no one has ever used it as an escape route. We are not immune to the sea's dangers. No matter how fast we can travel, luck played a large part in our success. There had been no choice. Most Demons will avoid water, and we would not have won a battle by air.
"It was a smart move, Reinhardt, considering. There are empty rooms on the next floor. Go. All of you. Rest."
No one argues.
"And Conor?" Durand says just as I'm about to duck out of the room. I turn to look at him. "Gibson will hear of this. You did well. Your job is finished."
The mark is alive, she has been delivered to the Acropolis, Rachel is uninjured, and I am a Guardian again. Gibson will be happy. I am too tired to care.
"I'm not finished," I say suddenly. Durand, who has started to turn away, looks at me in surprise. I have surprised myself.
"Not finished?" Durand asks. I nod, my jaw tight.
"I'd like to petition to become Emma's Guardian."
With that, I duck out of the room and walk away.
Chapter 14
Emma
