by R.K. Ryals
Marion has completed her demonstrations, and we are watching fascinated as she packs away the equipment she has brought with her to the courtyard. Marion is young, but she knows a lot about first aid.
"Her mother was a nurse," a male voice says from beside me, and I look up to find myself staring into the brown eyes of a black-haired, muscular hybrid.
"Was?"
My gaze moves between the hybrid and Marion.
"Yeah. Her mother was killed in the field protecting a civilian from a Demon."
"Oh," I answer softly.
My chest tightens. Marion is one of the kindest people I have ever met. It breaks my heart knowing her mother was killed by one of my own people.
"She doesn't seem to hold a grudge. Most of them do," the boy says, his eyes on the Guardians sitting at the edge of the garden. "I'm Bruno," he adds.
I look up at him, offering him my hand as I smile slowly.
"Emma."
"I know," Bruno says as he shakes my hand. His eyes widen a little, and he licks his lips.
"I can feel your mother in your touch," he says, and I pull away quickly.
"Not my mother," I say stubbornly.
Bruno raises his brow.
"No? Hmmmm . . . my mistake."
"You don't claim Enepsigos?" Fiona asks from beside me, and I look between the two hybrids.
"I don't know her," I answer. "It's not that I don't claim her. I know her blood runs through my body, but she isn't the woman who raised me."
Bruno shrugs.
"Well, that's honesty. Can't fault that."
Fiona rolls her eyes before standing up, stretching her arms as she looks at the Guardians now heading in our direction.
"There are rumors about your training session today. Are you really controlling a drex?" Fiona asks.
The question garners attention. Hesther and Gwenyth move in my direction as does a skinny, brown-headed boy I haven't met yet.
"How did you do it?" Hesther asks.
"Did it really attack Conor Reinhardt?" Gwenyth adds.
I am feeling closed in, and I'm not sure how to answer. Will the truth hurt or help me?
"Emma," a voice says, and relief floods me as I look up to find Conor waiting patiently at the edge of the group. I glance at the hybrids quickly.
"It is okay if we help each other you know," I say before walking away.
I feel their eyes on my back as I move.
"Making friends at the Acropolis isn't necessarily a good thing," Conor says as I reach him.
"It's not a bad thing either," I argue.
"No, maybe not," Conor agrees as we move toward the main building.
Conor has his hands in his blue jean pockets, and I find myself tempted to pull one out, to hold it. The scene in the forest haunts me. It never happened. I'm having a hard time forgetting it.
Conor's cell phone suddenly rings, and he reaches for it cautiously, his eyes staring at the screen before flipping it open.
"Reinhardt," he answers.
There is murmuring on the other end of the line. Conor never says a word, and when he flips the cell phone closed, I can feel the wariness emanating from him.
"We meet with Durand in the turret now. He's spoken with the Council," Conor says as he pulls open the door to the main building.
"About Ace?" I ask.
Conor nods.
"Among other things."
He leads me to the spiral staircase, and we climb in silence. There is a hallway and another smaller set of spiral stone stairs before we find ourselves in front of a heavy, round door. Conor lifts his hand and knocks.
"Watch what you say, Em."
He barely gets the warning out of his mouth before the door opens, and we step through to find Durand, Roach, Rachel, Will, and a powerful looking man I've never met before standing around the circular office. There is a single massive desk within the room with smaller tables to the side, and there are books everywhere, rolled documents scattered sporadically among newer hardbound texts. It smells like paper and dust.
"Conor," the older man says.
He has black hair sprinkled with white, and he wears a dark suit that sits well on his broad shoulders. He wears the dress clothes casually as if he is more comfortable in them than he would be pajamas. His shoes are so shiny, they reflect the late afternoon sunlight slanting in through an arrow slit window. His gaze moves to me.
"Emma Chase. I've heard a lot about you," the man says.
He smiles, but I don't miss the coldness in his gaze. He is a leader, and he is used to issuing demands. This much is obvious. I don't answer him, and I don't think he expects me to.
"I'm Ronald Gibson, Director of the gargoyle Council. You have been quite the focus of our group lately, my dear," Gibson says as he approaches me.
I want to back into Conor, but I stand my ground.
"I-I'm not sure why, sir," I stutter as he stops in front of me.
Gibson's eyes are sharp, his gaze intent as it searches mine.
"I honestly don't think you do, Ms. Chase. If you did, I'd be forced to kill you."
His voice is so smooth, so even, it causes me to shiver. His eyes move to Conor, and I'm finally able to breathe.
"The reports I've received over the past couple of days have been startling. Channeling Demons, a late night ocean journey, borrowed magic, healing abilities, and controlling a drex. And all in less than a week. Frankly, I'm impressed."
Conor meets Gibson's gaze without flinching.
"She's learning control."
There is a snort near the desk, and I catch a glimpse of Roach coughing carefully into his hand. Conor doesn't move, his eyes still locked on Gibson's.
"I'm not sure you're right for this job, Reinhardt," Gibson says finally.
My heart falls to my feet. If I move, I'll stomp all over it. I can't have another Guardian. I don't trust anyone else. Enepsigos' words ring through my head. Trust your gargoyle, Sweet One. He's worth trusting.
I glance between the two men. Gibson's eyes are hard, unrelenting. Conor is stoic, but I am suddenly afraid he won't win this battle.
Don't let them separate you, Emma.
Enepsigo's words are sharp in my head, and I almost fall backward. It's important I don't falter, and I manage to stay still, my eyes on the Director as I force myself to calm down. I'm not sure how Enepsigos is managing to communicate with me, and I don't care. Her words make sense. I need Conor, and he needs me. How I know this is beyond me.
"No," I whisper.
No one looks at me. Conor and Gibson are still locked in their unspoken battle while the rest of the gargoyles are focused on the upcoming fight. They expect resistance from Conor. I don't think they expect it from me.
"No," I say, my words louder this time.
Gibson's eyes move to my face, narrowing dangerously. My heart is beating too quickly, and I count to myself. One, two, three . . .
"I don't want another Guardian," I say evenly.
"You don't have a choice, Ms. Chase," Gibson says.
I feel the stares on me now, but I ignore them. I will lose what little confidence I have if I look up.
"Conor Reinhardt is my choice. I won't be alone with another Guardian. I have felt their anger."
"She's right. They'll kill her," Conor says.
Gibson shakes his head.
"They know the law. The Council's punishment for murder is harsh."
"And yet they'll risk it. This school hasn't been in operation long enough for prejudices to be dulled," Conor argues.
He has taken the argument up for me now, but I stand defensively next to him.
Don't let them separate you.
"You're getting too personally involved," Roach says from the side of the room.
Conor looks up, his eyes dark, deadly. Roach doesn't know about the kiss. There is no way he knows about the kiss.
"And what do you mean by personally, Roach? Because I'm defending my mark
with my life? I took an oath. We all did. In it, we offer our lives up for mankind, for the people we are assigned to protect. I'm doing my job, and I think I'm doing it pretty damn well."
"You're protecting a . . ." Roach begins.
"A Demon?" Conor finishes. "And that attitude is the reason why Emma is safer with me than she is with any other Guardian."
"Emma?" Rachel asks softly, and I know Conor has made a mistake. He's given me a name.
"This job is finished, Reinhardt. You've done well. You'll be reassigned. Be prepared to return to Paris for briefing," Gibson says quietly.
I don't see the defeat in Conor's bearing or in his face, but I feel it. I start to move forward, but Conor's hand finds my arm, and I see the barest shake of his head.
"Who will be her new Guardian?" Conor asks.
Gibson looks away.
"None of your concern. You leave tomorrow. The new Guardian will take your place then."
Conor nods, and I pull at my arm. His grip tightens.
And then I feel it.
Patience. The feeling is a weird one. It has a hard feel. Like steel. Conor needs me to be patient. I quit struggling.
"And the drex?" Conor asks.
I snap to attention. The news about Conor has distracted me. Gibson's eyes are hard when he turns to us.
"It dies tomorrow."
I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out, but I feel the tears prick the back of my eyes. I have bound the Demon to me only to sentence it to death.
"You're dismissed," Gibson says.
He turns to Durand, and Conor pulls me to the door. Will follows us quietly. Rachel and Roach remain, although I feel Rachel's eyes on our back as we exit.
We are downstairs when Will takes Conor by the arm.
"I know you. What are you planning, Con?"
Planning? Is this why Conor wouldn't let me interfere in the meeting? Conor looks at Will before his eyes move to the hall.
"Not here. Meet us in Emma's room."
Will gives Conor a long, hard look before nodding and walking away. And then Conor looks at me, and I see something new in his eyes. Defiance.
