by A. W. Exley
He laid his hand over hers. “Together,” Elijah repeated. “We have Delens to release, and if he will cooperate, he could make anyone we encounter forget we were ever there.”
“We have a plan, then. Elijah and I will deal with the Esmeralda and free Delens,” Jasper said.
Trixie wriggled out of Elijah’s embrace to face him. “I need to return to the house. When fire erupts, I will tell Uncle that I won’t help. I am expected to marry Archie this week and replace my aunt as spirit of our clan. As such, I won’t leave the house again. I will tell him it is my way of preparing for the role.”
Elijah tightened his hold on Trixie’s hand. “Are you sure?”
She rolled her eyes and cuffed his shoulder. “Yes. I know you will come for me. I left my horse in the barn behind your cottage. Before I return home, I can make sure Manny is secure and not wriggling free.”
Dawn coughed and drew everyone’s attention. “What about me? I am no fighter, but there is no time for Jasper to return me to Alysblud.”
“I know where you will be safe. There is a woman outside the village called Rose. She will keep you safe and we can meet there afterwards,” Trixie suggested.
“I’m not sure about a gargoyle dropping into the middle of someone’s garden in the depths of the night,” Dawn said.
“Rose is a Meidh and she has no love for my uncle. We could go there first and explain everything?” Trixie said.
Jasper nodded. “It won’t take long to deposit Dawn before we fly to the mill.”
Elijah ran a hand through his hair. There was one last piece of this puzzle he had to surrender. “There’s someone else who can help us.”
“Who?” Jasper asked.
“Kruos. The Meidh who murdered my father. We could either use his help or, at the least, make sure he isn’t home when the Soarers go to collect him to put out the fire we create.”
Elijah and Jasper stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Both men pushed down their anger at the death of their brother and father.
“His granddaughter, Millie, is being held by Francis Hamilton. I don’t believe Kruos was willing in the things he did.” It pained Elijah to say those words, as though he betrayed his father. But what would he do if someone held Trixie? He had only known his mate a few weeks and already he didn’t want to contemplate a future without her.
Jasper’s voice was soft, like a rustle through the leaves when he spoke. “Why don’t we go ask him and find out?”
25
The group flew to Rose’s picture-perfect cottage first and let Trixie knock on the door. The old woman stared at the two gargoyles on her doorstep and narrowed her gaze when they asked for her help.
“I don’t have to feed them, do I?” she asked Trixie.
Trixie glanced back to Elijah before facing the old Meidh. “No, we need you to look after Dawn. There’s going to be trouble.”
Rose snorted. “Two Warders in Hamilton’s village? Of course there’s going to be trouble.” Then she grinned and took hold of Dawn’s hand, pulling her into the cosy cottage. “You’ll be safe with me, dear. This rose has thorns.”
Dawn smiled over the top of the diminutive woman’s head. “I think we’ll get along just fine. Is that night stock I smell by your front door?”
The two women fell into a deep gardening discussion and didn’t even notice when Elijah shut the door against the fresh bite of night air. Next Elijah returned Trixie to the cottage he had shared with Hector and Marjory. Her mare waited in the stall next to his gelding.
He checked on Manny, who had regained consciousness, and he struggled against his bonds. His eyes widened on seeing who accompanied Elijah, and muffled cries came from behind his gag.
Trixie waved to Manny as she walked her mare from the stall. “You’re staying put until morning, Manny.”
Out in the yard, she turned to Elijah. “Now go. We have much to achieve tonight.”
Jasper rested a hand on Elijah’s shoulder as they watched the young woman climb onto the horse bareback and turn it towards the house nestled up the hill.
“It’s like making social calls,” Elijah muttered as they took to the air and their next stop.
This cottage was wrapped in near-total darkness. Only a small light flickered in the front window. No smoke curled from the chimney, and even the faint breeze died down and not a leaf rustled. The gargoyles shook off their stone forms to stand as humans on the doorstep.
Elijah stood in the dark and stared at the blue painted door. “Do I knock?”
“That would be the polite thing to do,” Jasper said.
Elijah reached out and rapped on the solid door. Was his father watching from deep in the earth, waiting to see if his son and brother avenged his death? It seemed odd to knock and wait to be invited in but then Warders did value being polite and taking a civilised approach.
The knob rattled and then the door swung open. An old, tired face peered out into the dark.
“I thought you’d be back,” Kruos said before walking away, leaving the door open and the two men standing on the step.
Jasper arched an eyebrow but when the elderly man didn’t return, he stepped into the cottage. Elijah followed and pushed the door shut behind him.
The old Meidh had returned to his chair in front of the cold fire grate. His attention was fixed on the line of photographs on the mantel. “Will it be quick, or did you want to torture me for my sins? Not that I imagine it will make any difference to you, but I have suffered every day for the last forty years because of what I did.”
“Kruos, this is my uncle, Lord Jasper Seton. Brother to the late earl, Julian Seton.” Elijah stood to the side of the fireplace and made the introductions. Although given Kruos’s words, he already knew who they were. Either way, he decided to leave the talking to his uncle. He crossed his arms and curled his fingers into his biceps. He’d lost his father because of this man, yet the idea of snuffing out his life didn’t ease the pain deep inside him. Still, he sought to understand what drove the other man to be a party to murder.
“How have you suffered?” Jasper asked as he turned to survey the photos.
Kruos let out a long sigh. “He took my wife, my daughter, and will soon add my granddaughter to his tally. Or did you think you were the only family torn apart by him?”
“What do you mean he took your wife?” Jasper paused in front of the wedding photo.
“A life for a life. Hamilton said if I took one, he would give one back to me. Except Elaine had our daughter while in his custody, and he made me chose which life he returned to me.” The Meidh’s shoulders slumped and his head fell forward. “I couldn’t choose between my newborn daughter and my wife. How could I? She made the decision for us and thrust Tristi into my arms. Hamilton made me watch as he drew the air from her lungs,” he whispered.
At long last, Elijah had his why. The man had been made to choose between an Elemental he had never met and his wife and child. What would he do in a similar position? He barely asked himself the question before the answer flared in his mind. He would do anything to save Trixie.
“What of the sylph who shattered Julian?” Jasper studied each photograph at length before he moved to the next one.
Kruos held his head in his hands. “Patrick? I’ve not seen him for possibly twenty years. Who knows where he went. Flighty things, sylphs. Always on the move.”
Elijah shared a look with his uncle. They would search for the last Elemental involved in events of that day another time. Tonight, they would act against the puppet master who had commanded their actions.
Jasper’s fingers curled into the thick wood of the mantel. “Elijah and I have discussed what to do with you. While we once sought revenge for Julian, taking your life will not return him to us.”
The old man stared at Jasper’s broad back. “You will let me live? What cruelty is this? I am ready to meet my death.”
“But it will not be at our hands. You will be judged for your actions when you me
et your creator. Tonight, we need you to do something that will end this matter between our clans.” Jasper turned and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
Elijah wondered if his uncle struggled with the same desire to lash out and was keeping his hands far away from the cold Meidh.
Kruos leaned forward, hugging his thin body as he shook his head. “I have nothing left for you to take from me.”
Elijah glanced to his uncle and waited for the tiny nod, allowing him to continue. “But there is something we can return to you.”
Kruos’s head shot up and his pale blue eyes narrowed. “What would you return to me?”
Elijah said the name of Kruos’s granddaughter. “Millie.”
A tear formed in the corner of Kruos’s eye and froze. It rolled down his cheek and hit the floor to shatter with a soft pop. “You would save Millie?”
Elijah nodded. “Yes. All we need you to do, is to do nothing. There is going to be a fire at the mill and we don’t want you there to help. Then Trixie and I will ensure Millie is safely returned to you.”
More frozen tears followed the first, like little white peas bursting from a pod. “Why? After all that he has done to you?”
“Because it’s time for things to change. Now is the time to extend forgiveness rather than seek revenge.” Elijah whispered the words. They caught in his throat and he swallowed several times before they made it over his lips. He drew a shuddering breath. He’d never imagined how hard it would be to let go of his plans for revenge. But he and Trixie wanted to start something new and nothing worthwhile was ever achieved without sacrifice. He silently asked his father for forgiveness.
The old man sat a little taller. “If there is a fire, they will come for me to extinguish it.”
“We could take him to Rose?” Elijah suggested.
“No!” Jasper whirled on his nephew, and for a moment, his eyes flashed almost as black as the rage that flared within them.
Elijah swallowed. In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to suggest that the man who’d murdered his father be placed under the same roof as his uncle’s mate.
Jasper closed his hand into a fist and squeezed, then let it go. “We’ll find a spot for you not far from the village. You can wait out events and when things are over, we can reunite you with Millie.”
“Very well.” Kruos rose from his seat and stood with his spine stiff, prepared to meet his fate.
Jasper flew the Meidh to a spot on the edge of the village. Elijah was relieved not to have to carry that particular burden, as the temptation to drop him might have been too great. They found an old abandoned shepherd’s hut far enough away that the Soarers wouldn’t be able to find him, but the spot gave the old man some shelter as he waited out the evening.
“That’s our social calls done. Time for some action.” Jasper slapped Elijah on the shoulder and they took flight again.
The two gargoyles followed the river, turned into a silver ribbon of silk by the moonlight. The mill was visible by the plumes of smoke puffing up into the sky. They landed by the river at the edge of the grass. The barn sliders were open just enough to let the small carts out. The voices of the workers carried over the still night as they joked with each other.
As they watched, a child-sized engine with a man riding up front chugged along the track, carrying the dirt away through the trees.
Elijah pointed to the large open doors. “Delens is in there, chained to the wall. Beyond him to the left are the engines, boilers, and propeller shafts from the Esmeralda.”
“I’ll handle tearing apart the drill and collapsing the shaft if you damage the boilers so they overheat,” Jasper said.
“What about the men?” A ripple of nervous energy flowed through Elijah. He had been in a few fights over the years. They were nothing serious—the type of scraps young men got into among themselves. But this was different.
Jasper rested a hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “Try not to kill anyone, and remember the three Ds: disarm, distract, and daze.”
Elijah nodded, his throat dry. He didn’t want to risk speaking in a high-pitched squeak. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his wings. He was ready.
“Good lad.” Jasper thumped him once and then set off, running across the grass with long strides.
Jasper paused at the doors only long enough to wrench them wide open to allow their large forms through. Elijah was close behind his uncle. Within, lanterns were hung from hooks and illuminated the interior with a soft yellow glow.
Elijah pointed to Delens huddled in his corner. The half-charred man appeared to be nothing more than a pile of discarded blankets.
The next set of doors were open and more light streamed through. Two men appeared, pushing a full cart of dirt. They stopped on finding two large gargoyles standing with their arms crossed before them.
“What the—” one said as he grabbed a shovel and swung it at Elijah.
Elijah held in a sigh. This was the second time today that someone had attacked him with a spade, and he ducked under the blow as he dodged to one side.
Jasper lunged and grabbed the man closest to him. With one large fist wrapped in the man’s shirt, Jasper lifted him off his feet. The man made a startled squeak, his eyes wide and his feet peddling an invisible bicycle. The older gargoyle knocked on the man’s head, as though it were a door, with a granite fist. The man went limp in his grasp, and he set him down to one side.
His uncle made it look easy. Unfortunately for Elijah, the man swinging the shovel had also seen what had happened to his colleague and was putting up a spirited fight.
Shouts went up, and four more men appeared in the doorway, making it now five men against two gargoyles. Elijah was grateful it didn’t take too many men to shovel the disturbed earth into the carts and take it away. He decided to copy his uncle’s direct approach and charged the shovel swinger. Elijah hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backwards.
Jasper roared and spread his monstrous wings. Two of the men paled while another yelled, “What is it?”
Elijah grabbed the man on the ground with both hands as he swung the shovel again and smacked Elijah on the shoulder. A clang rang out as it struck his granite body. He slapped the man and his eyes rolled up to expose his whites before he sagged, and Elijah lowered him back to the floor. That left four to deal with.
The young gargoyle cracked his knuckles. “Who’s next?”
Jasper had three men hanging off of him. One from each arm and another trying to climb up the gargoyle’s back. The men had grabbed their implements, and one welded a pickaxe, trying to chip pieces off the stone creature.
The fourth man was still deciding whether to join the fight or run for it, so Elijah made the decision for him by pinning his wings to his back and running at him in a full rugby tackle. This man had a length of chain that he lashed out at Elijah. It caught around his forearm, and he twisted his hand around it to pull the man closer.
The man spun, and Elijah grabbed him and wrapped a stone hand over his mouth and nose like he had done to Manny. The man lashed out with the chain, the end catching on Elijah’s wing tip. He curled his wing-end claw into a chain loop and held tight.
The struggles lessened, and the man slumped in his grip. Elijah let him go to slide to the ground and turned around, ready for the next one. Only to find there weren’t any more. Six men were scattered around the ground, all unconscious.
Jasper rolled his neck. “Good work, Elijah. I’m going to deal with the drill. You carry the men outside so they won’t be caught when the boilers explode. Tie them up in case they come around.”
Elijah picked up a man and dropped him into an empty cart. There was room for three in a cart if he squeezed them in a bit. After some huffing and puffing, he had six bodies crammed into two carts. Next, he grabbed several lengths of rope and tossed them onto the men.
Leaning on the rear cart, he pushed his load along the track and through the first double doors.
Delens had e
merged from his corner and watched. He chuckled as Elijah walked past. “Should have known when you kept coming back down here that you were a gnome. Stubborn things, you lot.”
“We’re called gargoyles,” Elijah yelled over his shoulder. “Gnomes,” he muttered, and then he spat on the ground. The very word sour in his mouth.
He pushed the carts well away from the mill and into the surrounding trees. There he removed the men, some stirring in his arms and muttering as he laid them around a fat tree trunk. With the lengths of rope, he tied them to each other and to the tree before they awoke.
“That’s one job done.” He brushed his hands together and headed back to the basement.
He found his uncle crouched by the hole with the metal shaft disappearing below the surface. His gargoyle form was so still that he appeared to be hewn from ancient rock that had always stood on that spot. His legs merged with the compacted dirt as he worked with his element far beneath them.
Elijah turned his attention to the boilers. He wanted pressure to build so that they exploded. The easiest way to do that was to stop the outlet that relieved the pressure. If there was one thing the strong and heavy gargoyle form was excellent at, it was smashing stuff.
There were four boilers, each with flaming mouths that were fed coal to create the steam that powered the shafts. Elijah ran his eye over them, spotting the outlet pipes high up. He didn’t want to rip them out—that would increase the venting. Instead, he placed a stone palm on either side and then squished the pipes together. He compressed and flattened the metal to create a blockage.
Next he studied the array of dials on the side of the boilers. They displayed temperature, pressure, and other metrics. He wasn’t going to fuss over settings. He simply slammed his fist into the display and smashed everything.
He shook his hands and shards of glass fell to the ground. Rumbles and groans came from the boilers as the steam found no escape from the metal containers. He knelt next to his uncle and laid his hands on the compacted dirt.