by Karen Duvall
I glanced behind and around me to make sure we were alone. I peeled back the shield on my senses and heard murmurs from both men in the other room as well as three distinct heartbeats somewhere else in the house. I knew my grandparents had other knights living with them and the three I sensed were far enough away they couldn’t see us.
I reached inside my inner jacket pocket and touched the warm chunk of polished stone that was Shojin’s heart. It seemed to pulse in my hand, though I knew my imagination got the best of me. The heart was just as dead as the gargoyle it came from.
Treating it like a fragile piece of glass, I held it out for my grandmother to see.
She looked puzzled before recognition brightened her eyes. “Oh, my.”
I smiled, feeling warm affection for the gentle monster the heart had come from. “This is the heart of Aydin’s gargoyle. All he has to do is eat it and he’ll become human again.”
“But how…?” She swallowed. “I don’t understand. It should have shattered along with the beast when it turned to stone.”
I slipped the heart back into my pocket. “I know, but there’s a reason that didn’t happen. It’s a long story.”
The mixing bowl I held grew suddenly warm. Glancing down at the lumps of dough on the pan, I saw steam begin to rise as if the cookies were baking. What the hell? The edges were turning brown and they weren’t even in the oven.
The wooden spoon in my hand exploded in flame.
“Oops,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.
I threw the spoon onto the stone-tile floor and stomped on it to put out the flames.
“Rusty! What have I told you about using cloaking spells in the house?” My grandmother soaked a towel under the faucet and tossed it over the smoldering spoon. “I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”
Sneaking? I was more concerned about the fire. Even so, the very idea of a cloaking spell that could evade my senses had me worried.
Aurora crouched down and mopped up the mess of burned wood and ashes. “Honestly, Rusty. What were you thinking?”
“It was a joke,” said the young woman who stood leaning against the counter. “I didn’t mean for anything to catch on fire.” Her hair was the color of flame, long and wavy, and she appeared close to me in age. Maybe a year or two older and about five inches taller. Forest-green eyes reflected an odd combination of confidence and uncertainty. Her gaze flicked over me, then back to Aurora. “I thought it would be a fun way to introduce myself.” Her mouth tilted in a smug smile.
My grandmother shook her head and tossed the ruined towel in the sink. “Chalice, this is Rusty, one of the Hatchet knights staying with us.”
My heart fluttered. A sister knight, and she stood right in front of me. This was a moment I’d been longing for, but I somehow didn’t feel all that pleased to meet her. Rusty’s choice of introduction left a bad taste in my mouth, not to mention burned fingers.
“Hello, Rusty.” I blew on my hand. “I’d shake your hand if it wasn’t for the blisters.”
Aurora grabbed my arm to haul me to the sink. She flipped the knob on the faucet and cold water flowed over scorched flesh that was already starting to heal.
“Honestly,” my grandmother mumbled. “Rusty can be such a show-off.”
“Sorry, Chalice.” Sincere regret shone in Rusty’s eyes and my irritation waned. She was my sister. I couldn’t stay mad at her forever.
I grinned. “No worries. It’s already healing. See?” I waved my pink fingers at her.
“No wonder I have so many gray hairs,” Aurora said as she tossed me a fresh dish towel to dry my hands.
Another young woman, her small stature and dark complexion in sharp contrast to Rusty, joined us in the kitchen. She was about my height and had an ethnic cast to her features; her shoulder-length hair was stick-straight and shiny as black glass.
“Hey, Natalie,” my grandmother said. “This is Chalice.”
“Hello,” I said, happy to meet another sister.
She waved a small hand. “Hi.”
An awkward silence followed.
“You’ve witnessed Rusty’s ability firsthand,” my grandmother said as she tossed a glare at my red-haired sister. “Natalie has a unique talent for finding things.”
I was pretty good at finding things, too. I wondered if she shared my freakish anomaly of heightened senses. “That’s a handy skill to have.”
“I’m a psychometrist,” Natalie said.
Oh, yes. I’d met a few psychometrists in my previous line of work. They were clairvoyants with a unique ability to read psychic impressions that people left on objects. There were some who could even recite the history of things that were hundreds of years old. The Vyantara had often used psychometrists for authenticating the cursed and charmed objects I stole for them.
When the phone rang, everyone jumped. I imagined recent bad news to be the cause, though its delivery would have come via angel and not fiber optics. It was obvious that the nerves around here were strung as tight as a hangman’s rope.
Rusty snatched the wireless phone from its cradle on the wall. Her expression tense, she nodded and murmured something in the receiver before hanging it up.
“A fire broke out in a farmhouse outside of town.” She glanced at each of us, her expression grave. “The snow slowed it down, but flames are playing leapfrog in the treetops and spreading fast.”
Aurora put her hand to her chest. “Dear Lord. Was that the fire chief?”
Rusty nodded. “The fire’s almost out of control so he’s calling all volunteer firefighters.”
A firestarter who fights fires? That’s a switch. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked before thinking. Fire scared the crap out of me.
“No, Chalice, but thanks anyway.” She flashed a smile faster than I could blink. “Natalie, will you drive?”
Natalie nodded.
Rusty trotted to a closed door near the front of the house and yanked it open. Coats and jackets dangled from hangers and she pulled one free.
Aurora had followed her and I was right behind. “I think you should take Chalice with you,” my grandmother said.
Rusty blinked in surprise. “There’s nothing she can do.”
“Yes, there is.” Aurora looked at me, her face tight with concern. “We have a room stacked with boxes that contain the curses and charms Quin Dee brought to us.”
Quin. I’d never forget the angel whisperer who got killed because of me, though the angels had made sure he didn’t stay dead for long. My heart tripped over itself at the memory of his sudden and welcomed resurrection.
“The knights need protection at all costs,” my grandmother added in a voice edged with panic. “We can’t lose any more. Chalice, will you help them?”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said, my brain whirring as I tried to remember what all had been in that stash of hexed objects. It was Aydin’s pilfered treasure that he had entrusted to Quin. He’d wanted to make sure my sisters would have them someday. My job would be teaching them how to use each one. “I’ll grab a charm or two that could be useful.”
Rusty huffed out a breath. “We don’t have time for this. The chief said the fire is reaching a critical point.”
“I’ll hurry.” I followed my grandmother to a room in the back of the house.
It was all here. Every old rusted trunk, rotted wooden crate, ancient cardboard box, barrel and jar. I felt their power the moment I crossed the threshold into the storage room, but I was immune to their effects. Having endured the gargoyle’s curse, I could handle these objects with impunity, as could Aydin. My sister knights could not.
I scanned the stash, remembering what most everything was, and reached for a weathered old ox horn. It had special properties that would be useful in a fire.
I ran outside, where Natalie and Rusty were already sitting inside a battered old red Jeep.
Rafe marched toward me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I scowled. “Since when do
I have to check in with you?”
“Since the day I became your guardian.”
Which was little over a month ago and I still wasn’t used to the idea. “Is that part of the deal?”
“More or less.”
I shrugged. “Well, I’m going with my sisters. You do whatever you want.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking superior and irritating the crap out of me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Chalice!” Rusty stuck her head out the open window. “Are you coming? Or would you rather wait for the entire town to burn down first?”
I lurched toward the Jeep and Rafe grabbed my arm. He dipped his chin. “You don’t want something to accidentally slip from your pocket, do you?”
I blinked. Shit. I still had Shojin’s heart. When I started to hand it to Rafe, he backed away. “I can’t touch it.”
Damn.
“Give me one more sec,” I shouted at Rusty, then ran around to the back of the house. A large ponderosa tree stood sentry there, a ring of melting snow at its base. I grabbed a stick to dig in the slightly frozen ground, creating a hole just big enough to conceal the heart. I buried it, then packed a few handfuls of snow on top. That would have to do for now. I’d find a better hiding place when I got back.
five
IT TOOK LESS THAN TEN MINUTES FOR US to reach the burned-out farmhouse at the edge of town. Flames flared orange in the distance, black smoke billowing up to blend with a gloomy sky. The house was just a smoldering mess of charred wood, exposed brick and chunks of blackened plumbing.
Natalie grabbed a toy truck from the ground and clutched it to her chest. “He’s still alive.”
“What?” I shot a look at Rusty, who appeared equally surprised. “Who are you talking about?”
Natalie swallowed. “The child no one knew was home when the fire started.”
Oh, my God. “Where are the parents?” I wondered out loud.
Natalie shook her head. “Not here, that much I know. But the boy is close. I can sense him.”
Rusty gave me a disapproving look. “If the boy inhaled too much smoke he may not be alive for much longer.”
“Don’t you have a fire to put out?” I asked, though I was more annoyed with myself than with Rusty. I shouldn’t have taken so much time to hide Shojin’s heart. Handing Rusty the ox horn, I told her, “Take this with you.”
She pushed it away. “I’m fine on my own. I don’t need help from a hex that once belonged to the Vyantara.”
I understood how she felt, but seriously? This from someone who whipped up a cloaking spell like a quick cup of coffee? “It can help you. Breathe through it if the smoke gets too thick. It acts as a kind of oxygen mask.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She turned and sprinted toward a line of flames less than a mile away. “I’ll send help back for the boy,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“I hope she’s as good at fighting fires as she is at being stubborn,” I said to Natalie.
“She is,” Natalie told me. “Though I wish she’d accepted your offer.” Her dark eyes shone with concern. “The knights are not invincible. We could use the help.”
Help against an unknown, and unnatural, enemy. The kind of help that only something equally unnatural could provide.
I wanted to ask her about the others, what she knew about them and their powers. I wanted details about the knights who had survived. And though it was peaceful here in the deserted yard of a burned-out farmhouse, a clock was ticking. An injured child, possibly a dying one, needed someone to find him.
I watched, breathless, as Natalie’s skin paled enough to rival the whiteness of snow beneath our feet. Her fingers worked over the metal toy, its bright yellow body dented, scratched and rusting on the edges. She gripped the thing as if clinging to life, which its owner might have been doing himself right then. Her knuckles turned bone-white and a drop of blood trickled down the side of her hand that had been cut on the old metal truck.
I knew better than to interrupt a psychometrist’s connection to a subject. She was linked to this child and disturbing her now could break the tie, or worse. I’d witnessed a psychic lose his sanity when someone hastily tore him away from the object he clutched. His mind was still attached to his subject and he never recovered. I wasn’t about to take that chance with Natalie. A cut hand was nothing compared to a lost mind.
A tear slipped free from Natalie’s glazed eyes. “He’s hiding.”
I’d guessed that already but kept my mouth shut. She was thinking out loud, expressing her vision.
“He’s cold,” she said, and freed one hand from the toy to hug herself. “And scared.”
“Where is he?”
She swiveled to directly face the farmhouse and pointed. “There.”
Impossible. The house had burned to the ground. Nothing could have survived that.
“Can you show me?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “That’s what I see. The house. And a darkness so black it’s as if he’s blind.”
“Is he?”
“No.”
Which meant some part of the house had been protected from the fire. “I’ll go look.”
“Be careful,” Natalie said.
No one needed to tell me that, but I still promised, “I will be.”
Seeing the charred remains of furniture and other household stuff tossed here and there reminded me of the Vyantara fatherhouse that had blown up soon after I’d summoned my fallen angel father. But there were no scattered charms and curses here, and thankfully no ghosts, either. Just ruined pieces of a family that had probably lived here for generations.
As I weaved through the smoldering ruins, I visualized the dissolving of walls that guarded my senses. The first sound I heard was a sobbing child. The boy had breath enough to cry and that lightened my heart with relief.
I squinted through the lingering smoke. No auras were visible, and therefore nothing alive that I could see. The boy’s crying sounded weak, but I could still feel it through the soles of my boots. He was below ground. I sniffed the air and, although it was heavily scented with the smell of burned wood and plastic, a subtle aroma of soap and shampoo wafted through. The bathrooms above ground had been destroyed, which meant the scent came from the boy.
“What’s his name?” I called to Natalie, who stood at a safe distance.
“Timmy.”
“Timmy?” I called out. “Can you hear me?”
I heard coughing, then a murmured reply I couldn’t make out. He began sobbing quietly again.
“Can you knock on something for me?” I asked, following the trail of muted sound to what must have been the kitchen. A blackened refrigerator lay on its side. “Knock on the wall or the floor. Anything.”
No answer.
And no more crying.
I hoped we weren’t too late. Where was the boy’s family? Why was he left here alone?
My vision could penetrate thin surfaces like paint and paper, even some fabrics. But the solid objects around me were too dense. However, I did manage to see through the black ashes covering the floor and noticed the outline of a door. A cellar door. And the charred refrigerator lay directly on top of it.
I crouched down to try pushing it off, but it was way too heavy for me. Timmy was down there; I could hear him breathing, but only barely.
“Natalie, I found him!” I called out. “He’s in the basement, but I can’t get to him. There’s a refrigerator blocking the door.”
“Help should have been here by now!” she yelled back, and I heard the Jeep’s door slam shut. “Hang tight, I’ll take care of it.” The engine started, followed by the sound of tires crunching over snow.
I kept pushing at the fridge, but it hardly budged. Whatever had been inside leaked out onto the blackened linoleum in a dark putrid mess. I closed my eyes to concentrate. Timmy was still breathing.
Then I heard something new. Wings flapped loudly above me and I glanced up at the sky, seeing nothing. Yet
a sudden wind swept my hair back and flung ash and charred bits of wood in my face. Still crouched low to the ground, I covered my head with my arms.
I smelled damp fur and animal musk, but also a natural spicy scent I remembered from when he was human. Aydin had found me. Or maybe he’d been following me from the start. Either way, it was a relief to have him here even if I couldn’t see him.
His gargoyle form suddenly appeared above me and his talons pierced the appliance like it was made from tin foil. The fridge crumpled when he lifted it off the floor. I watched as it flew a dozen feet to the side, then bounced a couple times before coming to a stop. The cellar door was free. And Aydin was already gone.
Sirens screamed in the distance, meaning help had arrived. I opened the cellar door and a plume of gray smoke puffed out the opening. The dimly lit outline of a child lay at the foot of the stairs. I scuttled down the steps and scooped up the boy, who couldn’t have weighed more than forty pounds. His dark hair was powdered with ash, and soot smeared his nose and cheeks. He still breathed, but barely.
I ran up the steps and out of the burned rubble toward the ambulance. “Help!” I called to the two men who hopped out the back. “This boy was in the cellar when the house burned.”
They took him from me and got to work. I heard the boy cough and a wave of relief washed over me.
Catching my breath, I scouted the area for Natalie. I saw that a thick wall of smoke had replaced the flames so I hoped that meant the fire was out.
Gasps of heavy weeping came from the back of the ambulance and I wondered if it held another victim of the fire. I went to see if there was anything I could do to help.
Natalie sat crouched inside, head lowered over a prone figure covered head to toe with a white sheet.
“Natalie?” I climbed up to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”
Head still down, she snuffled before saying, “It’s Rusty. She’s dead.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. An immense sadness welled up inside me, but my fury battered it down. My sister knights were dying and I was helpless to stop it.