by A. W. Exley
“It has a face,” she whispered as she approached.
Here, in the presence of the old tree, Enid dropped her human form and became the living heart—an amalgam of her gargoyle form and the leafy embodiment of the tree. Her legs were lichen-covered stones that created a plinth for her torso and arms. Vines wound around her body and sprouted bright green leaves. Her hair was a cascade of Ravensblood leaves, packed so tight they appeared to be raven feathers.
As Dawn reached out a hand to touch the tree, she realised that she, too, had changed form. Her hand still appeared mostly human, but the Cor-vitis she shared with Jasper had become a living thing. Delicate, thin tendrils covered her in a pattern that resembled lace. Leaves the colour of sage and mint sprouted along the vines.
When she raised a hand to her hair, she found the Ravensblood tree’s leaves entwined with her locks.
“What is happening?” she asked Enid.
Enid took Dawn’s outstretched hand, and delicate vine tendrils from both of them sniffed at one another. “It’s what the tree does. He pulls out your true nature. Don’t be afraid. Open your heart and mind, and he will show you our history.”
The old woman pressed Dawn’s hand to the rough bark. Dawn gasped as she was connected to the ancient being. Like the tree at Ravenswing Manor, this one gathered her into his embrace. The tree was distinctly a he, not an it. He exuded a masculine strength and the need to protect his family. While the Alysblud tree had shared its history with Dawn, the Dorset tree opened her mind to a higher view.
He was so ancient he didn’t know when he began, only that he had always been. Throughout time, gargoyles and undines had gathered at his feet to play, love, and raise their families. He sheltered them, and in return, they protected him from the storms and flames of salamanders and sylphs.
For millennia he had stood, serene and undisturbed by the actions of humans. Even the lives of Warders were but tiny blips to him, although he mourned the passing of each heart that was carved deep within his own centre.
When he had finished showing Dawn the history around where he stood, he took her on a journey inside. Through his mighty boughs and trunk they journeyed downwards. There at the centre of the earth resided the beating heart of Gaia, their creator. Between the first tree and Gaia’s heart ran arteries and veins that raced towards the surface. Each artery ended at the surface in a Ravensblood tree.
When a sapling was grown and planted, an artery was diverted to connect with the tree. If the Soarers destroyed a tree, the artery cauterised itself and retreated far below. Dawn saw how when their tree had sickened because of Ava, the poison hadn’t penetrated far below the ground. The tree had shut off its connection to Gaia to keep the black rot from infecting their creator and all the other Ravensblood trees.
Dawn raced around the globe, but her feet never moved. Her body became the earth, and a spiritual finger tapped on her skin with the location of each tree. They dotted along her body as, for a brief time, she realised the enormity of what the first tree contained.
His story told, the tree released her. As though she swam in the ocean, a gentle wave pushed her towards the shore. She opened her eyes and rested her forehead on the trunk to catch her breath. Pieces of her had been scattered around the world, and bit by bit, they returned to her.
Dawn dropped to the grass and lay back, gazing up at the canopy, where ravens jostled for the best position on its boughs. She talked aloud to Enid as she made sense of all she had been shown. “They are all connected. It’s not multiple Ravensbloods that guard families the world over, it’s multiple faces of this one tree. They are all joined to the one heart that governs us all.”
Enid beamed and patted her leg. “Now you understand. We are all connected not only to each other, but to Gaia’s heart. Does this answer some of your questions?”
Dawn sat up. The Cor-vitis glowed along her arms and created intricate patterns over her hands. “Yes and no, for what I have seen has created a thousand more. I know why Elementals live so long now. We need the time to learn everything about the world.”
As much as she had just learned, it was only half of a whole. Jasper talked of balance. “Are Soarers the same? Do they have some ancient phoenix that binds them all to Ouranus?”
Enid resembled an ancient rock carving as she sat immobile at the base of the tree. “That is a closely guarded Soarer secret. We have our theories, but we’ve yet to find a talkative Soarer to confirm them. There must be a reason why they build their homes atop hills and closer to the clouds. We do know that the Elemental linked to their phoenix is called their spirit, whereas we have a heart. A subtle difference perhaps, or it might be significant.”
A heart and a spirit. Could you have one without the other?
They sat on the grass in silence. Dawn tried to sort through all she had learned and been shown. Grass tickled against her legs. Like wriggly worms, blades inched along her skin as far as they could reach. Everything here seemed to have a mind of its own.
The sun had progressed across the sky when Enid said, “Shall we go back to the house? I’m sure the menfolk have had their serious conversation by now. Whereas we have only communed with our creator and seen the secrets that reside deep within our world.”
Dawn bit back a laugh as she took Enid’s hand, and the gargoyle hauled her up. Politics seemed so transient and unimportant when you considered the bigger issues that impacted the entire globe they lived on.
17
Nothing could spoil Elijah’s good mood. His punishment for saving the child was short-lived, and a day later when he reported to Mr Baxter in the warehouse, he was waved off to the weaving room. Beatrice, or Trixie as he now thought of her, arrived not long after him. She had a bounce to her step that had been lacking the last few days.
“Good morning, Trixie,” he murmured as he scanned the room, checking that there were no seekers hiding in the corners to spy on them.
She smiled from beneath lowered lashes as she walked towards him, her bright red velvet skirts swishing with each step. “Good morning, Eli.”
His heart pounded faster in his chest as she neared, but he kept his attention on the shuttles flicking from side to side. He turned as she stopped next to him.
Trixie wound her arms around his neck and tilted her face. “Have you ever felt anything as marvellous as last night?”
“No.” The looms could look after themselves for a few minutes. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer before kissing her inviting lips.
It was a gentle kiss. After the previous night, there was a slight hesitancy at first, as though what had happened had been imagined by them both and not something real. When she sighed against him and parted her lips, Elijah didn’t know how he would ever let her go. His mind simply repeated mine over and over.
Trixie pulled back, and he loosened his grip to let her step away. She licked her lips and pressed a hand to her forehead. There was a soft flush over her skin. “We need to talk about…things.”
Alarms rang in his head. This was a conversation he wanted to delay for as long as possible. “Things?”
“Wriggly, glowy things.” She held up her hand where the faint tendril of the Cor-vitis faded away.
He took her hand and smoothed a thumb over her palm. “Does it have to be today? Can’t we enjoy the moment of discovery for a little longer before we have a serious conversation about the implications?”
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Very well, a few more days, but then there are things that must be said.”
Elijah kissed her hand before he released it. He had bought a few more days before he had to unburden his conscience to her. He stared at the wall behind her and tried to remember what he had been thinking about before she’d walked in. Something about her silken skin, perhaps?
Trixie walked to the open box containing the spools of thread. She gestured to the middle loom. “We should do some work before we both forget why we’re here. You have an empty shuttle to l
oad.”
“Yes, Miss Hamilton.” Silk weaving! That was what he had been thinking about before she’d turned his mind to custard with her heated touch. He grinned. He couldn’t help himself. It was a rare thing to find your mate at such a young age. They had a thousand years before them. Or they would, once he figured out how to kill her family’s phoenix and avenge his father without turning her against him. That was definitely a conversation he wanted to put off.
“We can start something new today. Two of the looms are done already, and there’s not much to go on this one.” He gestured to looms one and three, which sat idle. They were making shorter bolts as samples before deciding which would be better to produce in greater quantities.
“I’d like to try an easy pattern, to give some variation to the silk. Then I’m going to compare our costs so far to an equivalent run of cotton.” Trixie’s fingers caressed the spool of silk in her hands as she spoke.
They spent an hour deciding on colours and textures for the next bolts to weave. They would have a range of types of silk to show her uncle in the final presentation. A warm glow filled Elijah’s chest as Trixie spoke of her hopes for adapting the mill to the more luxurious fabric.
She stopped with a length of newly woven shantung in her hands. “You’re staring at me again.”
He picked up the spools piled to one side. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and caring, and I can’t stop wondering when I will get to kiss you again.”
Trixie rewrapped the bolt and placed it with the others against the wall.
Elijah stood with his arms full of spools to thread the first loom.
She stepped in close and kissed him briefly. “I’m going to do my calculations. Careful you don’t lose a finger setting up the looms. I quite like your hands on me.”
With a soft laugh, she skipped out the door. Elijah let out a long sigh. Trixie Hamilton was going to be a handful, and he looked forward to every moment of it.
A few hours later, he had the looms threaded, the shuttles loaded, and was ready to start the new batch of fabric. He walked down to Trixie’s office to let her know and to see if she wanted to start the machines.
“No, stop it!” The voice was muffled by the thick wooden door, but the sentiment made it through.
“As your husband, I can command it,” Archie Lawson’s rougher tones answered.
Elijah didn’t knock or even pause. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. Anger flowed over him at the scene within.
Archie had Trixie pushed up against the desk, one of his legs between hers. She leaned over backwards, one hand on the desk for balance and the other pushing against Archie’s chest.
Elijah’s element wanted to burst forth and charge to his mate’s defence. His hands clenched into granite fists at the need to tear the man away from Trixie. A physical pain tore over his skin as he controlled himself and stopped the shift. Instead, he rooted himself to the spot. There was too much at risk. As much as he needed to rip Archie Lawson apart and find out what the Soarer had at his rotten centre, a tiny part of him remembered his promise to his father.
“The new pattern is set up on the loom, Miss Hamilton.” Elijah stood in the middle of the office and hid his hands behind his back as he tried to calm his heartbeat and return his hands to normal flesh.
Archie straightened and stepped back. He made a show of fixing his tie and then ran his hands through his hair. A sneer pulled one lip up, and then he glanced at Trixie and wet his lips.
Elijah wanted to pull the man’s tongue out and wrap it around his neck like a tie, but somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral.
Trixie wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Her chest heaved with a shuddering breath. “Thank you, Eli. I want to see the first run of fabric.”
“We’re not finished here, Beatrice.” Archie snaked out a hand to grab her.
Trixie darted beyond his range and stood beside Elijah. “Yes, we are quite finished, Archie. I have work to attend.”
Elijah stepped aside as Trixie walked from the room. Her hands ran through her hair and pushed strands back into the bun at the nape of her neck. He waited until the door closed on her form before he turned to face the Soarer. For once, the resonance rolling off the man didn’t make Elijah want to vomit. Instead, the white noise split and went around him, leaving him in the centre of calm.
Archie strode forward and struck out. He wrapped his fingers around Elijah’s wrist and tightened his grip, pressing on skin and digging into bones. Heat flared as the salamander added a touch of fire to his vice-like hold. His words rasped over his tongue when he spoke. “Watch your step, peasant.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir?” Eli kept his face bland and made a tiny shift under his skin, letting stone stop the pressure and heat from penetrating any further.
“She belongs to me, and you would do well to stay far away.” Archie grunted as he bore down, no doubt trying to make Elijah cry out in pain. Except that bullying tactic wouldn’t work on a gargoyle.
“That would be difficult, sir, since I was tasked with being Miss Hamilton’s assistant on her weaving project, and as such, I will do whatever she asks of me. I wasn’t aware that you had any official function in this mill.” Eli snapped his wrist free of the other man’s hand and turned on his heel. He resisted the urge to slam the door behind himself and pressed it closed instead.
Out in the corridor he found Trixie leaning against the wall. One hand was pressed to her temple. She glanced to him and then dropped her gaze to stare at the tips of her boots. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
Elijah arched an eyebrow. Events were exactly how they looked. The piece of pond scum had been intent on forcing himself upon her. But he would humour her for a moment. “What do you think it looked like?”
She walked down the corridor and Elijah fell into step beside her. “Archie and I are to be married and he is simply…overly enthusiastic to begin married life.”
“You’re still going to marry him?” Her words hit him in the gut and he stopped in his tracks, as though it had been a physical blow. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, to see the Cor-vitis spring into life between them. He needed to remind her of what they were to each other.
She glanced down the corridor and waited for a group of people to pass around a corner. She narrowed her eyes at him and kept her voice low. “This isn’t the time or place. All you need to know today is that my life is complicated in ways you could not understand.”
“You don’t know what I do or don’t understand until you try explaining it to me.” He risked a touch, reaching out to brush his knuckles against her palm. A single bright orange spark burst from her skin and disappeared in his.
Trixie had seemed so hopeful and alive just a few hours ago. What had happened in the office that had drained her of all the excitement about their unique connection?
She sucked in a quick breath and snatched her hand away to shove it in a pocket. “Let’s get the next bolts underway. Then I have other matters to attend.”
Elijah spent the day watching the looms and the arms throwing the shuttles back and forth. When the whistle blew for lunch, he stayed in the little room. He was in no mood for Manny’s ribbing about Trixie. The woman blew hot and cold like a fire during a storm. What had changed between them—or more likely, what had Archie said as he’d pressed himself against her?
He kept cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. His entire body was tense as though he’d petrified under his clothing. For too long now he had kept his human form and hadn’t embraced his element and stretched his wings. He wondered if this was what a phoenix endured, chained for life to a pillar and never free.
The afternoon drifted past the high window. Elijah was setting up new spools of thread when a whistle gave a long continuous hoot. He looked up, wondering what it signalled since it wasn’t knocking off time yet, when a shout echoed down the hall beyond.
“FIRE!”
> He dropped what he was doing and rushed for the door. Fires were a terrible threat hanging over cotton mills. Cotton fibres in the air could form an explosive mixture when they met gas lighting. The faint scent of smoke already permeated the air, and he ran down the corridor towards the shouting and cries.
He spotted Manny running from the warehouse, and Elijah pushed through the panicked workers towards his friend.
“Has anyone activated the sprinklers?” Elijah asked as they ran.
Mills often had stair columns that extended high above to house the water tanks that would use gravity to supply sprinklers in the event of fire. He couldn’t recollect seeing water tanks above the Hamilton mill.
Manny shook his head. “No, we use the river if we have to, but Hamilton always has it under control before then.”
They skidded to a stop as workers rushed the other way, pushing them back along the corridor towards the larger doors to the outside. Smoke poured from the open carding room doors. Women cried out, calling to their friends. They had found the source of the fire.
Elijah turned his shoulder into the press of people and pushed his way through. A whump rolled under his feet, and a blast of heat pushed out into the corridor as cotton fibres exploded. Elijah pushed open another set of doors that led to the open yard and hooked them back so they remained open.
People ran with buckets of water from nearby taps and tossed them through the door, but their efforts seemed small in comparison to the flames jumping high and licking up the walls.
“He’s here!” someone shouted and the panic abated. People fell quiet as they continued to leave the building. Voices were hushed as they whispered among themselves. Once outside, they gathered in groups to watch from a safe distance.
Elijah watched the men approaching and grunted to himself for missing the obvious. Why would Hamilton need water when he had Elementals who controlled air and fire? Fire could be as fickle and tempestuous as the ocean. It could still surge and swamp the men who sought to extinguish it.