Shadow

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘You’ll be with a group of Gypsies. We all tend to stand out.’

  ‘It’s not like we’re going to parade you down Main Street or anything,’ said Francis. ‘Just a little drive, view the sights, maybe pull through a fast food place for a milkshake. You don’t have to worry about anything, Sebastian. We’ll keep you good and hidden, I promise.’

  Claire shrugged. ‘So, what do you say?’

  A twinge of excitement pricked my nerves. ‘Okay, I’m in.’

  Phoebe clapped her hands. ‘Great! I’ve gotta go help my family get packed and have a talk with brother-dearest. I’ll see you guys tonight!’

  ‘Around eight?’ asked Francis. ‘Right after dinner?’

  ‘That’s fine with me,’ said Claire as she stood from the table. Brishen followed her lead. She smiled at me. ‘It was good to meet you, Sebastian.’

  ‘You, too.’

  Brishen tipped his head at me, and the two left together. Phoebe waved and darted off in the direction of the trailers. As I started to wave back, Zara ran her hands down my shoulders to the lumps on my back. I tensed and bit my lip. But she only laughed and ruffled my hood playfully.

  ‘Well, this should be fun,’ she said in a cooing voice. ‘I’ll see you boys tonight.’

  I watched her walk away, swaying her hips more than necessary, but definitely quite effectively.

  ‘She likes you,’ Francis chuckled.

  I kept my eyes on her retreating figure. ‘And why does that make me nervous?’

  His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. ‘Well, I’ve got load-in duty today, and we’re behind. Lots of deadlines to meet. But I’ll see you at dinner, okay?’

  ‘Anything I can do?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe later, Sebastian.’

  ‘Sure, okay.’

  The burly Gypsy walked off in the opposite direction, heading towards the larger tractor-trailer trucks on the outskirts of the caravan. I sat alone, feeling suddenly useless. Here I was in the Circe de Romany, eating their food and sleeping in their trailer, and I hadn’t done anything to earn my keep.

  A few women remained under the pavilion, cleaning up the mess. I gathered the leftover dinnerware and approached. I flashed what I hoped was a disarming smile underneath my hood –managing to keep most of my teeth hidden behind my lips – and held the dishes out. The Gypsy women stared at me for several seconds, caught somewhere between suspicion and fright. Finally, one took my offering.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured softly.

  ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

  The woman’s face softened. ‘Well, actually, if you wouldn’t mind taking the garbage out to the containers out behind the trucks …’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She pointed to a couple of large bins, and then she suddenly blushed. She turned on her heel and quickly joined the other women who were piling the dishes into buckets. I shook my head – unsure if what had just happened was bad or good – but at least I had a task.

  ‘Now this feels like home,’ I said to myself as I tilted the bins onto their wheels and pulled them behind me.

  The wheels bumped noisily over the gravel and dirt, attracting more than one glance from troupe members. I passed by a coop of chickens, and they squawked noisily at me, feathers scattering around their cage. It only took a couple of minutes to locate the containers and empty the bins. I was heading back to the pavilion when the grinding blender of ice switched on inside my stomach. Instinctively, I slipped behind a flatbed truck. From underneath the rig, I spotted two pairs of boots.

  ‘Thank you, Karl,’ I heard Quentin say. ‘Your information will be useful.’

  I hadn’t planned to eavesdrop, but curiosity rooted me to the spot.

  ‘Just be careful, Quentin,’ Karl replied. ‘If there are chimeras working together with grotesques to murder clan members, well, this could be a very serious problem. Chimeras are shrewd, and you know from experience their capacity for brutality. They’re not like gargoyles. Gargoyles are protective creatures. They have souls.’

  The Marksman gave a derisive snort. ‘I don’t care if they attend services on holy days and pray to every saint in the book. They’re all the same to me.’

  ‘Quentin, listen to—’

  ‘Karl, I appreciate what you’ve told me, and your grandfather’s knowledge will be an asset to us. But don’t expect me to treat your fabled gargoyles any different from the rest of these shadow monsters. And that includes Nicolas’ little pet, Sebastian Grey. One wrong move on his part, and I promise you, he’ll end up just like the rest of them. A pile of rubble.’

  Quentin stormed off, and I leaned against the side of the trailer, breathing heavily through my nose. Anger sparked up my spine. My vision hazed. I heard Karl’s footsteps, and I grabbed him as he rounded the corner.

  ‘Sebastian,’ he choked. ‘What are yo—’

  ‘I’m tired of this, Karl,’ I said between clenched teeth. The ice in my stomach turned to lava. ‘I’m tired of Quentin’s threats to end my existence every chance he gets!’

  ‘And you’re planning to do something about it, I take it?’

  His remark caught me off guard. The haze cleared, and I realized I’d pinned him to the side of the trailer. ‘I’m sorry, Karl,’ I gasped, releasing him quickly. ‘I don’t know why I did that.’ I took a cleansing breath and leaned against the metal, curling my claws into my palms. ‘And no, I don’t intend to try anything with Quentin. In case you’ve forgotten, I got my butt handed to me on a plate this morning.’

  ‘That’s only because you were weak with vitamin D, in case you’ve forgotten. If he’d confronted you on another occasion, things would’ve been different.’ I stared at Karl in surprise, and he put his hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re stronger than you think you are, Sebastian, and Quentin knows that. That’s part of why he feels so threatened. You’d be a match for him.’

  I took several more deep breaths, forcing back the dark emotions swirling in my brain. ‘I don’t want to fight him, Karl. I just want him to leave me alone.’

  ‘I’m not saying you should fight him,’ Karl replied evenly. ‘You both want the same thing, and that’s to keep this clan safe. But you’re going to have to find a way to channel this fierce energy of yours.’

  I shook my head until my instincts finally released their grip and the weight lifted from my chest. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘You need to hone your skills.’ He regarded me intently. ‘If you spent even half the time developing your abilities as you do fighting against them I think you’d be surprised at what you could accomplish. For example, how often do you fly?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to.’ I raked my hands through my hair as months of pent-up feelings seeped past my defenses. ‘And the reason I fight it is because I’m scared I can’t control it. Like what I did just now. Like it’s going to take me over if I give in. I want to be normal, Karl. I don’t want to be this … this thing.’

  Karl folded his arms over his chest. There was something suddenly ancient about him. Much like there’d been something timeless about Josephine as I’d watched her dance. ‘Fate doesn’t ask our permission, Sebastian. You have a duty to fulfill now.’

  ‘You sound like Ezzie.’

  ‘Esmeralda Lucian is very wise.’

  I had to agree. Though I knew only sketchy details of her past, there was wisdom within her that came from a lifetime of painful experiences – experiences she wanted me to steer away from.

  ‘So now what?’ I asked. ‘Is this like the part in the superhero movies where you give me advice and show me how to develop my powers?’

  ‘This isn’t fantasy, Sebastian. This is your life.’ His dark eyes grew serious. ‘But if you’re asking for my advice, I think you need to fully explore who you are. But you can’t do that as long as you continue to hide from it.’ He gestured to my hooded jacket. ‘You’re capable of more than you even
realize.’

  Fear clawed up my throat, choking my voice to a whisper. ‘What if I don’t want to know what I’m capable of?’

  ‘Trying to suppress what makes you unique will only hurt you, not help you.’ Karl gripped my shoulder. ‘If you want to protect the Romanys, you’re going to have to do more than just accept what you are. You’re going to have to embrace it.’

  I stared at my hands, the gray skin that still felt foreign to me, and the dark claws that used to be my fingernails. ‘I know.’

  ‘Come on, Sebastian,’ said Karl, with kindness in his voice. ‘Let’s get those stitches out of your wing.’

  My injury had healed nicely, and once Karl removed the diamond-encrusted thread from my wing, I felt even better. He left me with instructions to rest and to keep clear of activities around the camp. The troupe would be busy preparing for the opening of the Circe de Romany next week, and I would be – according to Karl – ‘in the way’.

  After waiting five minutes or so to make sure the old circus trainer left me to my own devices, I slipped out of my trailer. I appreciated Karl’s concern, but any more resting was going to drive me insane. So I gave myself a task: finding out where to get a shower.

  I located Francis, who was carrying a large packing crate across the center of the caravan. He laughed at my predicament and explained that none of the smaller trailers were equipped with bathrooms, but there was a communal trailer with a few showers and toilets on the other end of the camp.

  ‘But all the riggers are fighting over the showers right now,’ he said, shifting the weight of the crate to his other shoulder. ‘Why don’t you use ours?’

  ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘No one’s home right now,’ Francis insisted. ‘You’d have the place to yourself.’

  I had to admit, the thought was much more pleasant than fighting with a bunch of irritated roadies over a shower stall. ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘No problem. The door’s unlocked. Help yourself to everything.’ He patted the crate. ‘I’ve got to get these tent stakes over to Damien before he has a coronary.’

  I rushed back to my trailer for my bag. Then I headed for the luxury recreational vehicle that the Romanys called home. I hesitated as I cracked open the front door. There was something almost forbidden about entering the living quarters of the Romany family. I’d only been inside their home once, back when Josephine had invited me to rehearse our parts for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  But this was different. I was about to leave watermarks on their rugs and dirty towels in the shower. It was an odd feeling. Finally, the need for decent personal hygiene won out, and I pulled open the door. Francis had been correct. The place was deserted.

  I navigated through the space, noting once again the exotic decor and furniture. Something caught my eye, and I stopped abruptly. Sitting on a shelf behind one of the chairs was a small porcelain figurine in the shape of a dancing Gypsy woman. Her long hair, delicate arms, and bright skirt were frozen in a silent, graceful twirl.

  It was the figurine I’d given Josephine for her birthday last autumn. She’d kept it, even after everything that had happened. I dropped my backpack on the rug and took the figurine in my hands, stroking the porcelain hair with my thumb. My chest tightened unexpectedly, and I returned the Gypsy to the shelf.

  I found the bathroom and located a stack of neatly folded towels. I stripped down and unfastened the straps around my torso before cramming into the narrow shower. I barely fit, with my wings curled around my body like a cocoon, but the water managed to find my skin. I breathed a contented sigh and closed my eyes, letting warmth rush over me, feeling muscles in my back and wings finally relax.

  The now-familiar gnawing in my stomach brought me back to reality. Time for food. Again. I quickly scrubbed myself clean and stepped out. The steam had left a filmy layer over the mirror. I used my hand to smear away the condensation on the glass so I could see my reflection. Charcoaled contours emphasized every flex of muscle under my gray skin as I leaned closer to the mirror.

  There was nothing I could do to hide my slanted ears, which poked severely through layers of shaggy hair – hair the color of polished lead. Eerie silver eyes blinked back at me, and multiple points of jagged teeth protruded over my slate-stained lips as I frowned.

  Karl’s words returned to me, loud and clear.

  You’re going to have to do more than just accept who you are. You’re going to have to embrace it.

  ‘All right, I get it,’ I murmured. ‘I get it.’

  Wrapping a thick burgundy towel around my waist, I turned to retrieve my clothes from my backpack. It was then I realized I’d left it on the floor of the living room. I folded my wings, making them as small as possible, and padded quietly down the hall. My bag was right where I’d left it. As I leaned down to pick it up, a sudden stirring – like a pleasant breeze – filled my senses. I snapped upright.

  ‘No, please,’ I whispered frantically. ‘Not now.’

  The front door swung open. I backpedaled, wings unfurling out of my control, but there was nowhere to go. Josephine’s wide green eyes met mine.

  ‘Sebastian!’

  There was nothing I could do but stare back at her. Josephine looked me up and down. Her eyes swept across my wings and then to my chest. My heart threatened to break free from my rib cage, but I didn’t move as her eyes continued to slowly pass over me. A sensation – strange and new – tingled along the back of my head.

  Was she checking me out?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, heat surging through my face. ‘Francis gave me permission to shower here. I wasn’t expecting anyone …’

  ‘Yes, he told me,’ she replied, and then she closed her mouth abruptly. Josephine’s cheeks tinged pink. She cleared her throat. ‘So, ah … how’s your … injury?’

  ‘Injury,’ I repeated like a dumb parrot, my brain all fuzzy.

  Josephine smiled and tentatively pointed toward my right wing. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh.’ I grinned sheepishly and ran a hand through my wet hair. ‘It’s fine.’

  Her gaze searched my wing. ‘You’re right,’ she said, sounding awed. She took a few steps closer. Her hand stretched out towards the section of membrane where the stitches had been. ‘Do you mind if I …?’

  Everything had gone still. My wing expanded slightly, expectantly. I wanted Josephine’s touch; wanted it more than anything. But in the space of one painful heartbeat, I knew I couldn’t. To allow myself even that would be too much. I was a gargoyle – a gargoyle in love, maybe, but a gargoyle still. I wasn’t meant for this. I wouldn’t allow my feelings to get in the way of my duty. Karl was right. It was time I embraced what I was.

  My wing snapped in before Josephine reached it.

  Her face clouded. ‘What is it, Sebastian?’

  ‘I need to go.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  I yanked up my backpack, and retreated behind the couch, slipping my jeans on quickly under the towel. My body quivered with embarrassment, and I couldn’t look at her. ‘I should leave before Quentin arrives. He’d think even less of me than he already does, and I can’t afford that.’ I couldn’t throw my shirt on as easily, so I slung my backpack over my bare shoulder and hung the towel over the sofa. ‘Thanks for letting me use your shower.’

  I stepped past Josephine, leaving the door hanging open as I rushed out.

  8. Chained Freedom

  By the time I reached my trailer, I was shaky and starving. I ransacked my supplies until I located a bag of beef jerky. I sliced open the foil wrapper with my claw, trying to take my mind off Josephine and the way she’d looked at me. I felt like an idiot, and my nerves were fried. I chewed through several strips of beef, grinding them hard between my teeth. But neither my appetite nor my whirling head was completely satisfied. I glanced around the room, searching for a distraction. My cell phone blinked back at me from the bookshelf.

  I curled up on the narrow cot and managed to scroll through
voicemails and messages while I ate. They were all from Hugo and Katie. I responded to my brother’s first. It was obvious by his short texts that he was trying to leave me alone but, at the same time, I could tell he was concerned. It took several frustrating minutes to tap out a short reply – using the side of my finger instead of my claw – letting him know things were fine at the Circe, and Karl was keeping an eye on me.

  I listened to Katie’s messages next. She was going to New York to visit her dad for a couple of weeks. I braced myself and called her back, but only got her voicemail, so I left a lighthearted message complaining about my boring summer out of town with Hugo’s family. I wished her a good trip, told her that I had sketchy cell service, and promised we’d talk when I got home. Then I switched off my phone, feeling heavy with guilt.

  The next few hours crawled by. I skipped lunch, my embarrassment over what had happened with Josephine winning out over my uncomfortable hunger, but I polished off the rest of the jerky to appease my throbbing teeth and growling stomach. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Hey, Sebastian, let’s go!’ called Francis from outside.

  I wiped the last of my snack from my lips and this time remembered to pull my hood low over my head before answering the door. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Into town, remember?’ said Francis, staring into the shadows of my face and grinning broadly. ‘I hope you don’t mind skipping dinner here. Alcie’s making borscht.’ He made a gagging motion with his hand. ‘Not my thing.’

  Though I’d never had the Russian stew, I decided it wasn’t my thing either. ‘Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about going out.’

  ‘You’re still coming, right? I know Zara would be very disappointed if you didn’t.’

  He took off before I could comment. I closed the door behind me. An evening out was probably what I needed – a distraction to level my rocking emotions and occupy my attention for a while. I squared my shoulders, determined to make the most of Francis’ invitation.

  I caught sight of Phillipe leaning against the trailer next to mine. The Marksmen made no attempt to stop me – which I attributed to Phoebe – but he shot me a nasty look as I passed. I flashed my teeth in reply. Judging by his reaction, my expression was fiercer than I’d intended. My snarl melted into a smile. I was feeling better and better about this outing.