Shadow

by Christi J. Whitney

  It was just me.

  I surveyed the line of armed men. Lamplight glinted off the diamond-encrusted arrows like sparks. Phillipe drew his knife – a long, vicious-looking dagger that seemed to shine with a gleam of its own. He made a show of cleaning its jagged edge with the sleeve of his jacket.

  ‘Scared, freak?’ said Stephan.

  Some part of me wanted to fight – to jump into the middle of the group and let the terrible thing inside me loose. The rest of me wanted to run away screaming; to hide from everything, especially from myself. My brain and body were two locomotives, coupled together and firing in opposite directions.

  ‘Answer me,’ Stephan demanded.

  His arrow left the string, aimed at the bullseye to my right. In that split second, I visualized my hand catching it. There was a wisp of black smoke and, suddenly, I was there, fingers clamped around the arrow shaft.

  I stared at it, eyes wide. The black mist swirled and vanished. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but my anger suddenly faded, just like the weird smoke. I snapped the arrow between my fingers and let the pieces fall to the ground.

  ‘If you really want to shoot me,’ I said, looking up. ‘Then shoot me. But I’m not wasting another minute of my time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure there’s a leftover cubed steak somewhere with my name on it.’

  I walked away, daring any of them to make a move. I was done stooping to their level. I felt their hatred churning like storm clouds behind me, but no one said a word. I shoved open the tent flaps and pushed through.

  As soon as I was inside, I collapsed to my knees and took several big gulps of air. My gums screamed at me. I found myself baring my teeth and felt them slice into my bottom lip, completely out of my control. I clutched my stomach, trying to remember why I was in the tent. What was I doing here?

  Food.

  I pushed myself to my feet. Everything felt hazy, surreal, and quiet, like being underwater. My blood rushed to my ears.

  At that moment, an old woman walked out from behind one of the long shelves. Her eyes lit on me, and she stifled a scream. I jerked away from her as quickly as possible. I could only imagine what I looked like.

  ‘Alcie,’ I said, through clenched teeth. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be here.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ the old woman replied. ‘So I decided to get an early start on breakfast.’

  I groaned, imaginary bacon floating in my head. My knees wobbled, and I held onto one of the tables. It was definitely the worse I’d felt so far from not eating. Dealing with Phillipe and his buddies had taken more out of me than I’d thought. I straightened my shoulders and turned around. Alcie’s wrinkled face drew tight.

  ‘Are you all right, boy?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I answered. ‘Well, no. Not fine. I need something to eat.’

  I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. All I could think about was meat.

  ‘Of course,’ Alcie said. ‘There’s always plenty here.’

  I immediately felt guilty for my earlier comment about her cooking, even if she hadn’t been there to hear it. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘Let’s see what I’ve got in the fridge.’

  I followed her across the tent. She flashed a friendly smile as she began pulling out various containers that smelled – thankfully – like chicken and gravy. As I watched the old Gypsy woman begin to plate the food, I made a decision right then and there to stop letting the Marksmen get to me. It was clear that Quentin’s men would never be on my side. But finally, and at long last, it seemed that the opinions of the rest of the troupe were beginning to tip in my favor.

  And that thought was more satisfying than the cold chicken Alcie set in front of me.

  Well, almost.

  16. Gentle Thunder

  The next morning, I had just returned to my trailer from the crew showers – having decided to use their facilities after the incident in the Romany trailer – and I was scrubbing my hair dry when there was a knock at my door. I jerked at the sound and snagged the towel on one of my horns, ripping a large hole in the fabric.

  ‘Just a second,’ I called out, growling to myself as I tossed the mutilated towel in the sink.

  I grabbed a dark gray T-shirt and hastily zipped it up the back around my wings – too concerned with getting dressed to focus on the pleasant current buzzing across my skin. I opened the door, and my mouth dropped open.

  ‘Morning,’ said Josephine brightly. ‘I was hoping you’d be awake.’

  I tugged down my shirt, smoothing out the fabric with nervous strokes. ‘Ah, yes … well, I’ve been up for quite a while, actually.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Josephine laughed. ‘I keep forgetting you don’t sleep much.’

  A sudden wave of panic hit me. ‘Have I missed something?’

  Our routine consisted of breakfast separately, followed by Josephine’s scheduled rehearsals and other business around the Circe. It was just after 7:30 – a bit later than I usually went to eat, but still well before our normal day began.

  ‘No, not at all. Just a change of plans.’

  I noticed she wasn’t wearing her typical rehearsal attire. Instead, she had on jeans and a crimson top that complemented absolutely everything about her. Mismatched jewelry sparkled against her skin, and her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

  ‘What’s on the agenda?’ I asked.

  ‘I got the day off,’ she announced, sounding happier than I’d heard her in a while. ‘I guess being stubborn, going to practice on an injured knee, and then nearly getting killed in the process pays off sometimes. It took some convincing on my part with Father, but he finally agreed to let me go – as long as you were with me, of course.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Away from here,’ she replied, glancing over her shoulder. When she looked back at me, her face held an odd expression – almost embarrassed. ‘So, anyway, I stopped by to ask if you would mind going with me today.’

  My heart shifted up a gear. ‘You know you don’t have to ask me, Josephine. I go where you go.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘But I wanted to.’

  We shared a moment of awkward silence.

  I smiled. ‘Do I get breakfast first?’

  ‘Yeah, you get breakfast first. In fact, I’ll meet you at the pavilion in an hour, okay? I’ve got a couple of things to take care of.’

  ‘All right, I’ll see you there.’ I couldn’t believe how calm I sounded.

  As soon as she disappeared around the corner of my trailer, I closed the door and leaned against it. The room spun, and I pressed my head against my forehead, trying to squelch the crazy tingling in my brain as I reprimanded myself.

  ‘You’re just her guardian, Sebastian,’ I said out loud. ‘Don’t forget that.’

  As I devoured my plate of sausage links and turkey bacon, I tried to figure out what Josephine had in mind for her day off. She’d been pretty confined since the Circe arrived in Sixes, whether by her choice or her father’s. Maybe she wanted to get a coffee or even catch a movie – but neither were activities where I could accompany her. I was at a loss, but no sooner had I finished off my coffee than her scent tickled my nose.

  ‘Are you finished?’ Josephine asked.

  I quickly dumped my empty plate. ‘Ready when you are.’

  I felt eyes on me, and glanced up to see Francis. His expression was one of carefully concealed curiosity as he passed by. Thankfully, Josephine didn’t notice her brother’s look. She was swinging a small basket in one hand.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing to it.

  ‘It’s a nice day,’ she answered, looking at the sky. ‘I thought a picnic would be fun – if you don’t mind, that is.’

  ‘A picnic?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘Just the two of us.’

  ‘Works for me.’ My reply sounded casual enough, and I prayed she couldn’t hear the drumline beating under my sternum. ‘Bu
t is your knee up to it?’

  ‘Sebastian …’

  I caught the warning tone and couldn’t help smirking. ‘Right. Won’t mention it again.’

  We left the pavilion together and crossed the center of the caravan. Josephine walked with a slight limp, but I kept my word and didn’t comment on it. She was tougher than half the players on the high school football team. When we got to my trailer, I paused. ‘Hang on just a sec,’ I said, reaching for the door.

  ‘What is it?’ Josephine transferred the basket to her other arm.

  I scanned the sky. The mid-morning clouds were thick, but summer weather in the South was unpredictable. I entered the trailer and rummaged through my things. I didn’t have another long jacket like the one Hugo gave me, but I found one with a deep hood. I tucked it under my arm and closed the door behind me. ‘Just in case,’ I said, patting the jacket.

  Josephine studied me carefully. ‘Does the sun … hurt you?’

  ‘Just gives me a killer headache. And a desire for a nap.’

  We reached the front gate of the Fairgrounds. A Marksman leaned against the iron bars. My nose wrinkled automatically at the nasty smell and the cold chill. He gave me a customary look of disdain as he produced a key and pushed it into the lock. Josephine thanked him, and we passed through. The gate shut with a clang behind us.

  The forest was thick with summer foliage, and the smell of earthy things was strong. We walked in silence, heading towards the river. Though the gravel road was wide, I found myself falling behind Josephine, as I did when I followed her around the Circe.

  ‘You can walk with me, you know,’ she said, smiling softly over her shoulder at me. ‘Consider yourself off-duty.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to really ever be off-duty.’

  She sighed. ‘Okay, then, can you at least pretend to be more friend and less guardian for a while?’

  I quickened my pace to join her. ‘Josephine, I am your friend.’

  ‘I know you are,’ she replied. ‘I just want to get away from the troupe for a while, and I don’t want to think about opening night or Quentin being gone, or our clan being in danger. I don’t want to think about any of it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Josephine.’ I studied her face, seeing the lines of worry along her forehead and the edge of her mouth. ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to have all that hanging over you. I never realized how complicated your life was before I came to the Circe.’

  Josephine froze in the middle of the road, her eyes searching mine. ‘God, Sebastian,’ she breathed, ‘you really are unbelievable.’

  My chest tightened. ‘I wasn’t implying you couldn’t handle it. I was just—’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Josephine pressed her fingers to her lips and exhaled through her fingers. ‘You’re unbelievable because you’re always so concerned about me, all the time. I don’t know how you do it, especially after everything you’ve gone through.’ Her gaze swept over my body. ‘I mean, look at you.’

  She’d brought up my appearance at last, but I’d been wrong about how I thought it would make me feel. Avoiding the subject had been easier. ‘What’s done is done,’ I said, pulling my shoulders back, keeping my gaze level. ‘And it’s been worth it. If it takes being a monster to protect you from monsters, I’m okay with that.’

  ‘You’re not a monster,’ she replied in a voice as firm as her look. ‘Not even close. Remember what I told you before my family left Sixes? You’re a different kind of guardian angel. Just because your wings aren’t made of feathers and you have horns instead of a halo …’ Josephine’s hand pressed against my chest. Right over my heart. ‘The way you look doesn’t change this.’

  The ground felt like melted butter. My lips tugged up as I watched the determined glow I loved dance across her face. ‘I guess sometimes I just need the reminder.’

  ‘Well, consider it done,’ she replied. Her other hand cupped my cheek. ‘And you’re not as terrible as you think you are, okay? You were handsome before you looked like this, Sebastian. Being a gargoyle hasn’t taken that away. If anything, it’s added to it.’

  My breath took a detour on its way from my lungs. I stared hard at Josephine, afraid I was reading too much into her words. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because I’m your friend, and you deserve to know,’ she replied. ‘I hear how people talk about you around the Circe. But you can’t believe them. I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks. You’re not a freak, Sebastian. I wish you could see that.’

  How was it possible for my heart to soar and sink at the same time?

  ‘Thanks.’

  She moved away from me, then took a few steps down the deserted road. I watched her, my guts torn with emotional knives. But the look on Josephine’s face was like a bandage, reminding me that – even with the pain – I’d still live.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘are you coming?’

  We continued our walk, side by side. The silence that fell between us was more comfortable now. Friendly. I knew the time had come to release the painful feelings and nurture the good ones. She and I were friends, and that made Josephine happy. And because she was happy, I would be, too.

  Josephine talked, and I listened. It was satisfying to hear her so unguarded, so free. She scooped up a handful of rocks as we crossed the Sutallee Bridge. She tossed a pebble into the water and offered me one. I took aim and sent the rock skittering across the ripples. It was as if each pebble was some wounded piece of my heart, and with each toss, I felt more whole.

  I was going to be okay.

  This was going to be okay.

  We passed over the bridge to the other side. Josephine dropped her basket and leapt acrobatically down the bank, testing her knee and her weight as she hopped from one large rock to another. I followed behind. The roar of the water was so loud that we stopped talking and simply watched the river as it rushed by.

  Josephine’s bright eyes were riveted on the water. A ray of sun slipped from behind a thick cloud, turning the river into a current of diamonds. I shrugged on my jacket and pulled the hood low. Then I crouched on a large, jagged rock, and watched her. In the light of the sun and with the burdens gone from her eyes, Josephine looked like an angel.

  Her eyes fell on me, and her smile faltered. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Perfect. Although, I am getting a bit hungry.’

  ‘But it’s only ten o’clock,’ she replied. Then a beautifully sheepish look crossed Josephine’s face. ‘Oh, right!’ She picked up the basket and slung it over her arm. ‘That’s like an eternity for you when it comes to food, right?’

  ‘Close,’ I said with a shrug. For sure, I didn’t want Josephine to see me the way I’d been last night before Alcie came to my rescue. I squinted into the trees. The sun was out fully now, and the canopy of leaves provided little cover. I felt my muscles stiffening and the beginnings of a headache at the base of my skull. ‘So, any thoughts on where to have your picnic? Besides here, I hope?’

  ‘Shade would be good, wouldn’t it?’ Josephine crossed her arms over the basket. ‘I mean, I don’t want to spend the afternoon talking to myself while you take a nap.’

  ‘No napping, I promise. But I might shut my eyes for a bit, every now and then. If I start to snore, though, maybe you’d better kick me or something.’

  ‘Well, I’ll try my best not to be boring,’ said Josephine.

  I rose from my crouch and headed for a clump of trees near the bank. ‘Unless you’re intending to teach a class on advanced trigonometry, I don’t think that’s really possible. And maybe not even then. Of course, maybe that’s just the sun talking.’

  The corners of Josephine’s eyes crinkled. ‘So it makes you delusional now, is that it?’

  ‘Nah,’ I said. ‘That’s only when I don’t eat. And let me tell you, breakfast sausage doesn’t go far in a gargoyle stomach.’ I peered at the sky, studying the puffy clouds, their bellies fat and gray. Gradually they overtook the sun, obs
curing its hazy form. ‘Now, that’s more like it,’ I said. ‘I was pretty sure the weather report said mostly cloudy, so I’m good for wherever you want to set up picnic camp.’

  Josephine swung the basket behind her. ‘Well, I have a confession to make.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go up to Copper Mountain.’

  I brushed my hands across my jeans, wiping off bits of dirt. Copper Mountain was a historical site from the Civil War, and it was Sixes’ most impressive landmark. ‘It’s too far to walk, I’m afraid,’ I replied. The mountain and surrounding park areas were on the opposite side of town.

  Josephine glanced over her shoulder. ‘I was hoping we could fly there.’

  My good mood disappeared as quickly as the sun. I clamped down on my bottom lip for a moment, tasting blood as I looked away. ‘I don’t fly.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Okay,’ I admitted. ‘But not as a general rule.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The question hung heavily between us. Suddenly, I became conscious of my wings once more. It’d become easy to ignore them, so long as I kept them tightly folded and pressed against my back. I’d only flown out of necessity to save Josephine from danger. Never just for the sake of flying.

  Never for the pleasure of flying.

  ‘Because,’ I said. ‘It’s easier to … forget … when I don’t.’

  Josephine moved closer to me. ‘But they’re a part of you, Sebastian. You have them for a reason.’

  ‘You sound like Karl.’

  He’d told me that I needed to improve my abilities. And I agreed with him. But when it came to flying, I’d completely blocked out his instructions. It was the stuff of horror movies.

  People who flew weren’t human.

  I jolted when Josephine’s hand touched my arm. ‘I’m sorry, Sebastian,’ she said. ‘I’m not trying to force you to fly. I just thought you’d want to. I’ve barely seen you use your wings since you came here, but the day you caught me when I fell, I remember your face. You looked so complete, like you were doing something you were meant to do.’