The Acropolis

by R.K. Ryals

  Chapter 28

  Emma

  It never happened.

  Over and over I repeat this to myself as I shower. Conor is across the hall in the boy's bathroom and Ace is safely hidden in an old un-renovated part of the stables.

  It never happened.

  It's best I don't go there even in my head. Only a few days after discovering I am the half-mortal, half Demon daughter of Enepsigos, and I am kissing a gargoyle. It's not rational. It's not logical. It's mad. I want to talk to my mother but can't.

  You can.

  Her voice is suddenly in my head. The same unsympathetic, firm voice I had heard in the woods when I'd asked for help in healing Conor. It's not my adopted mother's voice. I turn off the shower and stand dripping, afraid.

  "What do you want?" I ask.

  To talk, the voice answers. I lean out of the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around myself before stepping clear of the stall.

  "Talk about what?"

  Anything you wish.

  "I don't want to talk to you," I say as I dry off, pulling on a fresh pair of clothes before facing the bathroom mirror. My wet hair hangs down the back of a clean, black t-shit. My face is pale.

  I'm not here to hurt you, Emma. I'm here to help.

  "Help me with what?"

  The mirror before me suddenly ripples as if the surface is made out of water. I back away from it, my eyes wide as a young woman appears in the glass. She looks a lot like me, but she is "more" where I am "almost." Her hair is obsidian rather than just dark. Her eyes are so amber they are red, and her lips are full and ruby. She is wearing a black dress with a corseted top and long flowing skirt.

  There is going to be an uprising, Emma. You will lead it.

  I stare at her, my heart racing within my chest.

  "An uprising?"

  The gargoyles you are with are an elite group of warriors created by Heaven to guard mankind from evil. In the old days, it was a simple endeavor. Now the world is more complicated. Angels fell from Heaven, and the first Demons came to be. The world has become a mix of Exiled Angels, Demons, a single Naphil, and a race of half-Demonic people.

  I stare at her, this woman, and I know she is my mother. My real mother.

  "And this will lead to an uprising with me at its head?" I ask.

  I am confused. Scared and confused.

  There is no balance, Emma. The hybrids are in danger. The gargoyles train you because you are not truly evil. Demons fear you because you are not truly evil. This has become a double-edged sword. The hybrids will have to rise above this. Unite. Do you think you coming into your powers now is an accident? Do you think meeting the gargoyle is an accident?

  My hands are gripping the sink now, my nails scraping the porcelain.

  "Are you saying you planned this? Are you saying we should fight?"

  Planned is a callous word, Emma. I am not inconsiderate.

  I stare at the mirror.

  "How can I trust you? You're not a hybrid. You should want us dead. And why do the Demons keep having children with mortals if they fear us?"

  It's a lot of questions, and I don't expect her to answer them all. She's already fading.

  Even as a Demon, I am not linked to Hell, Emma. I earned my kingdom on the moon. Hell wanted new recruits for their armies. They thought they could create them by lying with mortal men and women. In a way they have, but they didn't count on any of you taking after your mortal parent. If you want more answers, find Alessandro. And trust your gargoyle, Sweet One. He's worth trusting.

  And with this she is gone. My knuckles are white against the sink, my eyes shadowed in the mirror. There is going to be an uprising, Emma. You will lead it. I am no leader, and I don't trust Enepsigos.

  "Emma?"

  I hear Conor outside the bathroom door, but I don't move. I'm not afraid, I'm anxious. There is too much going on in my head, too many complicated feelings.

  The bathroom door opens, and I see Conor materialize in the mirror behind me. He's wearing a clean pair of jeans, and a white t-shirt, and he's using a towel to dry his hair. He pauses when he sees my face, my clenched knuckles against the sink.

  "Emma?" he asks.

  He reaches out, a hand resting against my fist. Trust your gargoyle, Sweet One. He's worth trusting. My eyes meet Conor's in the mirror.

  "I just met my real mother," I say.

  Conor's hand tightens on mine, and he looks around the room, his body tense. I let go of the sink and place my free hand on top of his, pulling it away from mine.

  "She's gone," I add as I spin to face him. "Who is Alessandro?"

  I don't give him time to ask questions of his own. Conor's eyes narrow.

  "Your mother give you that name?" Conor asks.

  I nod.

  "Enepsigos did, yes."

  I still don't like calling her my mother. Conor glances around the bathroom again.

  "He's the head of a group called the Swords of Solomon. They are a group of warriors that protect the secrets and artifacts of the ancient wise King Solomon." Conor leans over, his face close to mine. "What did Enepsigos tell you, Em?"

  I give him the condensed version.

  "She told me to find Alessandro and to trust my gargoyle."

  Conor's brow lifts.

  "Your gargoyle?"

  I shrug while fighting a smile. Conor has a lot of pride. Referenced as a belonging is stinging it. Conor's jaw tightens as he glances at the mirror over my head.

  "Well, at least she's smart enough to realize you should trust me."

  "Good pride save there, Macho Man," I say with a grin as Conor points at the bathroom door.

  "You, sweetheart, have a class. Now would be a good time to walk."

  He can act grumpy all he wants. I know better. I push past him, moving into the residence hall before stopping at the exit to the courtyard beyond.

  "I need to talk to Alessandro," I say softly.

  I know Conor is close, and I hear him sigh.

  "Did your mother say why?" he asks.

  "Enepsigos. And yes, she did."

  "Are you going to tell me?"

  I look over my shoulder at him.

  "She told me I would be leading an uprising and that Alessandro would know more."

  Conor's eyes widen.

  "You? An uprising? Emma . . ."

  "Don't say it. I know I'm not the type. I'm just telling you what she told me."

  Conor places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.

  "No, Honey, you are the type. You are more the type than you think you are. I'm done underestimating you. Your mother . . . Enepsigos has the ability to see the future . . ."

  Conor is gripping my shoulders firmly with both hands now, and he turns me, his face serious.

  "Emma, you can't tell anyone what she has told you. Do you understand?"

  His fear is paralyzing.

  "Why?" I whisper.

  Conor's face darkens.

  "Because if the Council were to discover your mother has predicted you will lead an uprising, you will be exterminated."

  My blood runs cold.

  "W-what?"

  Conor is shaking me now.

  "Don't repeat it, Em. No one. Understand? For one, we don't know what kind of uprising she's referring to. Your mother is a Demon. The Council will assume the worst."

  I nod and Conor relaxes, his eyes locked on mine.

  "I'll contact Alessandro."

  I nod again as Conor leads me gently outside. I'm not ready to mix with the other hybrids again so soon, but I'm beginning to realize my choices are few.

  Trust your gargoyle, Sweet One. He's worth trusting."