by R.K. Ryals
Chapter 16
Emma
I don't feel the least bit comfortable.
"It's a little on the short side," Deidra says, her lips pinched to contain her amusement. I'm not sure how I feel about her yet, but I can't seem to get rid of her.
"Short is an understatement I think," I say as I finger the long sleeve black tee I'm wearing. I'm tall for a girl, and every time I lift my arms, I can see my belly button.
"The jeans are better," Marion adds, her cheeks flushed. I can tell she wants to feel more comfortable around me, but she still reeks of fear. I can't figure out what's so terrifying.
"They are boy's jeans," Deidra says petulantly.
I am embarrassed by this fact, and I keep my mouth shut.
"Boyfriend jeans are fairly popular. No one will notice," Marion says defensively.
My heart is beating so fast, I can barely breathe. My throat still hurts, but the pain has lessened considerably. With each new step, I feel my hands shake, and I clasp them as tightly as I can to hide the problem. But the imp notices. She is more observant than I'd like to admit.
"They need you trained as quickly as possible. I don't think they'd throw you to the wolves this quickly if they didn't," Deidra says sympathetically. Marion slaps Deidra on the back.
"You aren't helping her any."
"Well, she needs to know," Deidra argues.
We are almost to the main building, having left a large cottage behind us. The Chateau before us is huge, grey-white stone and impressive. We are surrounded by gardens and low stone walls. I pause on the lawn.
"The wolves?" I ask. Deidra's words make me nervous.
Marion sighs.
"You are the daughter of Enepsigos. She is one of the most powerful Demons in existence. You are going to be automatically disliked."
Her words are blunt but soft. I just stare, my cheeks heating. Deidra slips her hand into mine. I am too ashamed to pull away.
"It's not you, Emma. Don't take it personally. Demons, even hybrids, are power hungry. No matter how much we want to pretend we aren't, we are. Other than the gargoyles training us, there is not a single student here that doesn't have a Demonic parent. You won't be judged for that."
"Then why the dislike?" I ask.
"Because they will be jealous," Marion answers.
I am at a loss for words. I don't feel powerful. I don't even feel like a Demon. I feel scared. I feel lonely. I feel like crying. But I don't. I don't cry because tears won't help anything, and they will be tinged with blood. Crying is something I have to learn to control. Crying is something I have to learn to do without.
"Come," Marion says. "You need to eat. We all do. What you do after that will depend on your Guardian."
We walk slowly again, my feet dragging as the door of the Acropolis draws nearer.
"My Guardian?" I ask.
Deidra's hand is still in mine, and she tugs on it gently.
"We all have one. It's a gargoyle assigned to make sure we don't lose control."
"That's not entirely true, Deidra," Marion says firmly. She stops at the door, her hand resting on the wood as she turns to face me.
"As Guardians, a gargoyle's first duty is to protect the innocent, the defenseless. We stand between evil and those evil attempts to harm." Marion is stoic, her voice even. Her words sound memorized. "But, at the Acropolis, the Guardians assigned to the students here are given two objectives: Guard and judge."
The word "judge" sends chills down my spine.
"Judge?"
Deidra snorts.
"As the children of Demons and mortals, we are given leniency. We aren't killed because one of our parents is human, innocent. It means we have the capacity for good. But only the capacity. If we prove to be one of the so called "good" hybrids, we are assigned a job among the gargoyles or another group that protects humankind," Deidra says dryly.
I know the answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway.
"And if we fail?"
Marion pushes the door open, her face solemn as she gestures to the hall beyond.
"Some of us won't make it out of the Acropolis," Deidra answers, her hand slipping from mine as she steals into the Chateau. I don't move, my eyes blank. My body is tight with fear, more fear than I have ever felt before in my life. I am being faced with Demons both figuratively and literally, and I am afraid of failure.
"You are a good person, Emma. You have nothing to worry about."
I hear Marion's voice, but I don't acknowledge it. I can't quit thinking about what I've already done. I have nearly killed five gargoyles. My memory may be fuzzy, but Deidra hasn't had any trouble filling me in. By the time Marion presented me with clothes to wear to the main building, I knew exactly why Deidra thought I was "bad ass."
"You are a good person," Marion repeats, her hand touching me tentatively. Her words are comforting, but her actions, her expressions are fearful, unsure.
"You don't know that," I whisper as I finally step forward.
Deidra is immediately next to me. For the first time, I see uncertainty on her impish face. There is laughter in the Acropolis. The building is massive, the ceilings vaulted with exposed wooden beams and stone floors that appear ancient, untouched. There are massive fireplaces in the hall. No furniture. A stone gargoyle sits at the foot of a spiral stone staircase. There is a floor-to-ceiling mirror on one side of the room and weapons hanging along the wall. I don't ask why.
"Make them like you," I mumble to myself. It is something my mother is always telling me. Just make them like you, Emma.
"That's not possible," Deidra mutters as we approach a large entryway. Beyond it is a room lined with three massive mahogany tables, chairs filled with students ranging in age. They are an eclectic mix. Some are young, maybe no more than ten years of age, while others look older than me. And they are loud. I am bombarded by sound.
Along the walls, men and women stand, many of them in their late twenties. Only a few look to be in their teens. One of them is Conor Reinhardt, his arms folded as he leans against the wall facing the room. Will is next to him. Rachel isn't far from Will. These are the gargoyles. Some of them Guardians. Our judge and jury. I am feeling decidedly less than perfect.
"They've noticed you," Deidra whispers.
She is at my back now, clinging to the loopholes in my jeans, her face just visible at my side. A strange feeling sweeps through me, a warm one. It's the first time I've ever been considered a protector by anyone. I wonder briefly what I'm supposed to do if I have a panic attack. Jump under a table and bring Deidra with me?
And then I notice the silence.
All eyes are on the door, on Marion, on me. I'm not quite sure how to handle the attention. It's the first time I've ever been in a public situation where I haven't been completely overlooked. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my temples. People are sneering now, waiting.
I get a quick glimpse of Conor's face, but he is avoiding my gaze. I'm alone, and for the first time, I realize that it's not only the hybrid-Demons who are watching me, it's the gargoyles. Their stares are intense, watchful, and I realize they expect me to make a mistake. I am being tested.
"Everyone's a critic," Deidra snorts. Her words make me smile despite my terror. She is a crass little thing, evidently worried about the people inside the dining hall, but she is fearless in ways I'll probably never be.
Marion moves ahead of me, and I follow her slowly, my eyes on her back, Deidra still clinging to my pants. If people are so determined to dislike me because I'm terrifying, they are getting a whole new perspective. It's hard to be scary in a boy's jeans, a practically cropped black top, and an imp clinging to my backside.
