‘Sebastian, I’m sorry,’ she said, clenching her hands in her lap, ‘about how I reacted to you earlier, when I asked you to take off your hood. It was rude, and cruel. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s okay, Josephine, really. It took weeks for Hugo and the guys to get used to all the … well, you know.’ I shrugged and my wings lifted. ‘Changes.’
Her face softened a little. ‘You know, for the record, you still look like you,’ she continued with some hesitation. She grimaced with apology. ‘What I mean is, you’re still Sebastian.’
Was I?
My own silent question bothered me, but I shook it off. ‘Thanks.’
‘And your wings are really incredible,’ she said after a moment’s pause.
‘I bet you say that to all the gargoyles.’
Josephine smiled, and I watched her study my wound. She reached out timidly, and then she touched the membrane that stretched between the joints. Her touch sparked a current through my body, eradicating what was left of the pain. Josephine pushed a strand of chestnut hair from her face and glanced quizzically at me, asking my permission. I managed a nod. Her fingertips brushed along my wing up to the joint. I sucked in a breath and shut my eyes.
‘Does that hurt?’ she whispered, her fingers pausing at the clawed tip.
‘No.’
Her cheeks turned pink. ‘Oh.’
Neither of us moved. My stomach was wrenched in so many knots that I was certain I was going to puke at any moment.
It felt amazing.
Josephine’s fingers left my wing, and she clasped her hands in her lap. I looked away, my face hot with the embarrassed pleasure I’d felt from her touch.
‘Sebastian, I’m so sorry about all of this,’ she said. ‘Everything’s my fault.’
‘No, Josephine, it’s not.’
‘I was so confused,’ she pressed on. ‘At school I was one person, and at home I was someone else. I didn’t know who to be, especially around you.’ Josephine’s hand went to her throat, and I saw that she was wearing her pendant once again. ‘You were so nice to me, and I felt … I feel … this attachment to you. Things have been stressful enough, and Quentin—’ Josephine broke off and took a sharp breath. ‘Quentin’s always been our protector, and this has been hard on him. The Marks think all shadow creatures are our enemies. And for a long time, I believed the same thing.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘You did.’ Josephine lowered her gaze, her green eyes hidden from me. ‘When we were kids, my father used to tell us stories about the guardians of the Roma. The guardians of his tales were noble and heroic.’ The Gypsy girl’s face hardened in a way I hadn’t seen before. ‘The shadowen we deal with are horrible things, always stalking us. There’ve been rumors of bad things happening to the clans in Europe, and everyone’s afraid it’s spreading here. It’s becoming harder for us to hide.’ Josephine grasped my hand, and the room filled with heat. ‘But you’re different, Sebastian. You’re like the old stories.’
I stared at her shapely hand wrapped around my gray one. The dandelion tattoo along my wrist was no longer red and inflamed. It looked as sleek and pristine as the day Hugo had inked me. ‘You haven’t talked to Quentin about this.’
‘Not exactly,’ Josephine replied. ‘He’s dedicated his life to keeping us safe, and now he feels like my father has betrayed him by asking you to stay with us.’ She let go of my hand. ‘That’s why I tried to keep you from coming here, Sebastian. I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
I couldn’t take my eyes from hers. So many emotions flickered behind their green depths. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Josephine. And there’s no reason for you to feel guilty. You didn’t do this to me. I … I’ve always been this way. A gargoyle, I mean. I just didn’t know it before I met you.’
Josephine blinked: a beautiful flutter of thick lashes. She no longer looked uncertain, as she had when she’d first seen me, and I dared to hope that I wasn’t as offensive to her as I’d first thought. My body tingled with a new form of electricity. Josephine leaned in, and I found myself leaning closer in response. Her gaze took in my gargoyle features slowly, intently.
Our faces were merely inches apart, and the smell of flowery spices filled my senses, clouded my head. Sight and sound went into overload. I was almost certain I could hear the Gypsy girl’s heart beating. My wings quivered, and my gaze lingered on her lips. They were parted slightly, and her breath fell warm on my face.
The door swung open with a bang. We both jumped.
Phillipe pounded up the steps. ‘Closing time at the zoo,’ he said mockingly. ‘Time to lock the animal up for the night.’ He looked pointedly at Josephine. ‘And your presence is requested at the divano.’
‘I’ll be right there,’ she replied, her voice stiff.
Phillipe grunted and clomped back down the stairs. As soon as the Marksman was gone, Josephine placed her hand on the clawed tip of my wing. My cheeks grew warm again, and I swallowed hard. Her fingers drifted down the edge for a brief moment before she pulled away. I noted the shallow intake of her breath as she clutched her pendant against her neck.
‘For what it’s worth, Sebastian, I’m really glad you decided to come to the Circe, especially after everything that happened the last time my family was in Sixes.’ She stood up, seeming reluctant as she did so. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop by tomorrow, to check on your wing and see how you’re doing.’
My heart jounced in my chest. ‘I’d like that, Josephine.’
She smiled. ‘So would I.’
6. Going Nowhere
I sat in silent stillness, enjoying the lingering trace of Josephine’s presence in my trailer. When her scent grew weak and the air cooled, I shook free from my trance and tested my wing. Karl had done a nice job sewing it back together. I spread my palm against the leathery flap. The weird, shimmery skin was warm and smooth to the touch, and I remembered the feel of Josephine’s fingers.
I didn’t care if I was locked in a trailer with guards at the door. I was happier than I’d been in an agonizingly long time. The torture of the last few months faded, and hope vibrated behind my sternum. Whatever the next stage of my life held, I was sure of one thing: Josephine had looked at me differently tonight.
I swallowed Karl’s pills before I could change my mind. Then I sprawled face first onto the cot, letting my hurt wing drape over the side. As I lay there, I wondered what was going on in the divano. Was I on their discussion list? To the Gypsies, I was some sort of glorified pet to be ordered about and controlled – and that was by the ones who did want me around. And then there was Quentin Marks.
Much as he got under my skin, I couldn’t fault him for his abhorrence of gargoyles. Based on the evidence so far, there wasn’t much going in favor of shadowen, myself included. But the Marksman didn’t just have a problem with gargoyles. He had a problem with me.
My head started to pound as the dose of vitamin D kicked in. I groaned and buried my face in the pillow, feeling groggy and heavy. They were sensations I didn’t often experience unless I was out in broad sunlight. And I was sleepy – something else that had grown foreign to me since I’d gone gargoyle.
I yawned loudly and my eyelids drooped. Karl’s pills really packed a wallop. My body grew heavier and heavier until I heard the sound of my limp wings thudding against the floor. Then sweet oblivion overtook me.
I wasn’t sure when I woke. The curtains were shut and the trailer was dark. I blinked several times, studying the grayscale forms of the objects in the room. The night vision thing was crazy, but it sure came in handy.
My wings were still unfurled. I reined them in with some effort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept without my nylon and Velcro straps. I changed into a fresh hooded shirt and retrieved a new pair of bindings from my duffel bag. My shoulders ached and the wound was stiff, but it didn’t stop me from my daily ritual. A few minutes later, sixteen feet of gargoyle wings fl
attened against my back.
I splashed water on my face at the small sink. I was going to have to figure out how to get a shower soon. Gargoyle or not, I didn’t want to stink. My stomach cramped with hunger, and I reached for my jacket before remembering that Karl had taken it with him. I studied my reflection dubiously in the mirror. The straps pressed tight against my T-shirt, confining most of the bulk behind me, but the tips of my wings with their bony talons protruded visibly over my shoulders.
I wondered if I could sneak some food back to the trailer – that is, if I could actually leave. To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I peered outside. By the looks of things, it was early morning, still way before dawn. There wasn’t a Marksman in sight. The center of the caravan was deserted. I leapt off the stairs and landed softly in the gravel on all fours.
Finally, a little freedom.
I slunk along the outskirts of the circle, tugging repeatedly on the flimsy hood of my shirt, which didn’t cover as much of the real me as I would’ve liked. I felt naked without my long jacket, but at least the gray of the fading night hung in the air, providing shadows to blend into, if needed. I was in a good mood, even though I felt like I’d been run over by a semi-truck. I memorized the vehicles and made mental notes of living quarters as I explored the Circe.
‘Morning, Sebastian.’
Francis leaned against a large RV, talking to Phoebe. I raised a brow, surprised to find two teenagers up so early on a summer morning. Then again, they weren’t your average, run-of-the-mill teens. They studied me with thinly veiled curiosity.
‘Hey, guys,’ I replied.
Francis grinned. ‘So they let you out, huh?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. Time off for good behavior, maybe?’
‘See you at breakfast?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yeah,’ I replied, patting my stomach. ‘Definitely.’
I hurried past the Gypsies, not wanting to miss the opportunity to take a self-guided tour of the camp before it was time to eat. As I rounded the corner of the RV, I heard Phoebe’s whispered voice.
‘Wow. I’ve never seen anything like him before.’
‘Hey,’ Francis returned, sounding a little hurt. ‘I’m standing right here!’
I was too far out of range to hear Phoebe’s reply, but I couldn’t help smiling at the strange sort of compliment. It certainly felt better than being shunned out of fear. My gaze drifted over the vehicles. The outline of a tent loomed against the violet sky. It wasn’t as large as the Circe’s performance tent, but still impressive.
Music drifted quietly from the tent, and I paused in front of the entrance. My senses told me instantly who was inside. I planted my feet, determined to changed directions, but couldn’t resist the pull. It was like being caught in a spaceship’s tractor beam. I slipped through the canvas opening and ducked behind a collection of heavy crates stacked near the tent wall.
Josephine Romany danced alone in the middle of a small circus ring. I clung to the edge of one box, suddenly weak at the knees. She seemed otherworldly, and I visualized generations of Roma blood flowing through her as she moved. I felt awkward and insignificant as I lurked in the shadows – a beast watching his beauty from afar.
God, she was so beautiful.
I squeezed my eyes shut. This was stupid. Pointless and ridiculous. I had to stop torturing myself this way. Either I had to come to grips with my feelings and my place in this Gypsy camp, or I was going to be useless. I pushed myself away with newfound resolve.
A hand clamped around my neck. I tried to gasp, but no air came. My body was slammed against a thick crate. A shockwave exploded through my wings and down my spine.
‘You demon freak!’ Quentin squeezed tighter. ‘How dare you come in here!’
The edges of my vision grew black with startling speed. I clutched desperately at his wrists, suffocating under the impressive chokehold.
‘Stay away from Josephine.’ His face pressed close to mine with fury blazing in his eyes. ‘You hear me, demon? You may have Nicolas’ blessing, but you aren’t worth the price of one of my dogs. I’ve killed dozens of your kind. You’re nothing special.’ His fingers constricted like an iron vise, and my head swam. ‘Only the bandoleer’s command is keeping you alive.’ He released his grip. I slid to the floor. ‘Watch yourself, gargoyle,’ he said, stepping away. ‘It’s only a matter of time before I find a way around Nicolas Romany. He’s blind to what you are, but I’m not. Remember that.’
Quentin stormed out of the tent. I clutched my throat, gulping oxygen like a starving man. Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder. I recoiled, expecting the Marksman had returned for some additional gloating. But instead, I found myself looking into Karl Corsi’s concerned face.
‘Sebastian, are you all right?’
‘I’m … fine.’ I coughed a few times. ‘Help … me … up.’
He pulled me to my feet, and I leaned against the tall stack of crates, still breathing hard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josephine leaving out of the opposite opening of the tent; oblivious, thankfully, to what had just happened.
‘What aren’t you in your trailer?’ asked Karl.
‘Got bored,’ I panted. ‘And hungry.’
Karl frowned. ‘You’re supposed to be asleep. I certainly didn’t expect to find you up before dawn and getting into confrontations with the likes of Quentin Marks. Vitamin D makes you weak, in case you haven’t noticed.’
I rubbed my throat tenderly. ‘You might have warned me before I took the pills.’
‘And you should have waited until after I came and checked on you before gallivanting around the circus.’
I grimaced sheepishly. ‘Touché.’
‘Now let’s get you back to your trailer before the sun comes up and really gives you some problems.’
‘I go out in the sun all the time,’ I said, staggering forward. ‘I can handle it.’
Karl looped an arm under me. ‘Not when you’ve already got an extra shot of vitamin D in your bloodstream.’
‘What, are you telling me I can overdose on the stuff?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ he answered. ‘While a small amount can induce sleep and allow a gargoyle time to heal, you have to be careful.’ The circus trailer raised his brow. ‘Diamonds can kill you, Sebastian, but too much vitamin D can do so much more.’
Now it was my turn to raise a brow. ‘Like what?’
‘It will turn you to stone,’ he replied, looking steadily at me. ‘Living stone.’
I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
I sighed impatiently while Karl examined the stitches in my wing. I really wanted breakfast. But I played the good patient while he replaced the nylon straps with a satisfied grunt. I pulled on the freshly mended jacket that he’d brought; glad to hide my massive deformities from view once more.
‘So, how’s it look, doc?’
‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘I’ll take the stitches out after you’ve eaten.’
‘That’s pretty fast.’
‘A benefit of your gargoyle heritage, my boy.’
I studied the edge of my wing where it jutted out underneath the jacket. ‘So, why don’t the diamond needle and thread hurt me?’
‘They do, to an extent,’ he replied. ‘But it’s the difference between getting a flu shot and getting stabbed through the chest with a switchblade.’ Karl’s bushy eyebrows lifted. ‘Both are wounds, correct?’
‘Got it,’ I replied, chagrinned.
The more I learned, the more I felt I didn’t know.
‘Your wing would have healed on its own,’ Karl continued. ‘Just not nearly as well.’
I nodded absently, my thoughts drifting away from my injury. A nagging fear had been lurking in the back of my mind since Quentin threatened me in the tent. Why hadn’t I felt him coming? His presence usually made me want to puke chunks of ice, yet I’d felt no warning at all. But I had been focused on Josephine.
Perhaps that’s what Esmeralda meant when she told me
that falling in love with my charge made me weak. Maybe it did more than cloud my judgement. Maybe it also made me blind to danger around me – and that would inevitably put Josephine at risk. I gritted my teeth. This wasn’t just about managing my feelings anymore. This was about protecting the person I’d been assigned to watch over.
Karl switched off the lamp and tossed a blanket over the curtain rod, dousing what little light remained in the trailer.
‘Care to fill me in on what you’re doing?’ I asked. ‘Last I checked I was a gargoyle, not a vampire.’
Karl shrugged in the darkness. ‘You need to sit in the shadows for a while, Sebastian, build up your melatonin levels to counteract what’s left of the vitamin D in your blood.’
‘Say that again?’
‘Your melatonin levels,’ he repeated. ‘The body produces it best while in darkness, and gargoyles seem to need much higher levels than humans. It’s all linked to your special abilities.’ Karl stepped to the door and looked back in my direction with a smile. ‘In other words, consider yourself a creature of the night, Sebastian Grey.’
‘Ah, fantastic.’
‘Doctor’s orders,’ he replied. ‘It’ll help, you’ll see.’
‘So, how are you so good with all this shadow creature medical stuff, Karl? I didn’t realize the Romanys were such gargoyle experts.’
‘I’m a Corsi, remember?’ He chuckled. ‘I just work for the Romanys.’
‘So how, then?’
Karl leaned against the door. ‘My grandfather was fascinated by shadowen physiology. And he had a very curious grandson.’
‘What about the Marksmen?’ I asked. ‘They know a lot about shadow creatures.’
Karl’s smile dropped. ‘The Marks know how to fight and kill your kind. That’s the extent of their knowledge.’
‘So noted.’
‘Breakfast should be ready soon, Sebastian. Until then, try to stay in the trailer and rest, okay?’ Karl closed the door heavily after him.
I sprawled on the bed, unsure of what to do, or even if I was really supposed to do anything. I couldn’t lie on my back with my wings strapped, so I rolled onto my stomach, trying to imagine I was in a tanning booth, only absorbing dark instead of light. At some point, I must have dozed off, because a knock at my trailer door sent me bolting out of the bed with a startled snarl.
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