Secrets of Skin and Stone

by Wendy Laine

  “What if I break my promise?”

  “Then, I’m sure you’ll have a good reason. Nobody has to be perfect.”

  I never do break promises. I might bend rules, but I don’t break promises. “Just as long as you stick around this town.” I wasn’t making a lifelong promise to a boy who might bolt just as soon as he felt like it.

  “There’s a lot to do here, and I’m finding I like the scenery.” He picked up the flashlight and put it in my hand. “You ready?” As he got to his feet, he pulled me to mine.

  I turned on the flashlight and trained it on his chest again. “I’m ready. Show me.”

  It happened fast. One moment, he was Gris, really hot, tall boy. The next, a winged, gray creature stood before me where he’d once been. His skin was slick and hardened like he was made of stone. His already thin face stretched to a pointed chin, and his cheekbones were high and sharp. Though his eyes looked similar in both forms, the white portions were diminished and the black-brown parts were intensified and shiny. The muscles on his chest were more defined, and it seemed like he was wearing body armor instead of skin. Besides the bone-white framework of his wings, they seemed a lot like bat wings.

  The muscles on his arms were thick, corded, and tapered down to his hands where long, black talons graced each finger. They looked elegant and sharp.

  “Can I touch your hands?” I asked.

  With some hesitation, he held out his hand. I looked over his knuckles then his palm. The skin was so thick and hard. It seemed as if it would reverberate if I tapped on it—like a tortoise shell. The talons were smooth like river rock except for their razor-sharp tips. Looking down, I noticed his feet had short talons also, possibly for grip.

  My examination had brought me closer to him. Heat radiated off of him. Also, a fizzy kind of energy hung around him like static electricity. I slid my free hand up his chest. Gris’s eyes widened. He’d acted as if I’d be repelled or horrified, which was ridiculous. I was touching a creature that moments before I would have thought was mythical. My heart beat faster. This was like something out of a dream—a good dream. This was like a fairytale, and I’d never even believed in those.

  Using the tips of my fingers, I traced the thickness of his muscled neck and his smooth cheeks. The curves of his ears had elongated to a more pointed shape. His mouth had the barest suggestion of lips. When my fingers skimmed his mouth, he closed his eyes. Was that painful for him? A humming sound came from his chest like a purr.

  “Do you like that?” I whispered. “When I touch you?” I couldn’t believe I’d dared ask that.

  He nodded, keeping his eyes closed.

  “Can you talk?”

  Another nod.

  “You don’t want to, though?”

  His jaw clenched. Wait one second, that’s why some of this seemed familiar. “You were here that night. You spoke to me. You sounded different.”

  “Bad?” he mumbled, keeping his mouth clenched shut.

  “Nah, just different. You were nice. It was the first time my monsters hadn’t scared me. I couldn’t figure out why you could talk and why I wasn’t scared of you.” I huffed out a laugh. “I really thought I was losing my mind that night. I wasn’t scared of my shadows.”

  He opened his eyes, but kept them downcast. I turned off the flashlight and tossed it on my bed.

  “You don’t want to see me anymore.”

  “It’s not that. It’s making you uncomfortable, and I only want to touch you.” My cheeks heated up in a molten hot blush. But then my fingertips and thoughts were lost in the wonder in front of me. Touching him was like touching magic. “Your whole body is smooth like the rocks in Hidden Creek.” I finally dared to touch his wings. Bony lengths formed the top edge and three joints down into the actual wing, which was like a bat’s. Another bone lined the bottom, which curved up into a thick muscle where it attached to his back, almost as if they’d slide behind his shoulder blades.

  “Your wings remind me of…” It was likely rude to make comparisons. My mama hadn’t taught me the etiquette on what to say if your boyfriend had wings.

  “A gargoyle’s?”

  “Sorta. Only you look more like you, and you’re wearing pants. Gargoyles don’t wear pants.”

  He snickered. It was different from his normal deep laugh. It sounded raspier and a smidge more sinister, but that didn’t bother me. Inside, he was still Gris. On the outside, he was different as could be, but everything on the inside was sweet and charming and Gris.

  “Is it hard to fly?”

  “It’s a lot of work.” The odd reptilian hiss whispered in his words. His tongue must be different. “It burns off a lot of energy. I’m always hungry.”

  My hands returned to the smooth planes of his chest. He was so strong. It must be difficult to go back to his human form when it came after this. Did he feel weak? If I could fly, I might never want to be human again. My hands slid in unison down across his stomach. The ripples of his abs were fascinating. A deep shudder ran through him again. When I reached the waistband of his pants, I asked, “This is why you don’t wear a shirt or shoes at night?”

  “Yes.” The single syllable hissed out.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, but don’t go any lower.”

  Well, I certainly hadn’t planned on it. I choked on an embarrassed laugh. I think the deep, rough rumbling I felt in my fingers was him laughing, too.

  I skimmed my fingertips upward, across his chest, sketched his collarbone and then followed it out to his shoulders.

  “One moment,” he whispered. “You have fiends coming in.”

  I ducked closer to him, and he put his arm around me. Pressing my face against his smooth chest, I inhaled the scent of him—some Gris, plus something sweet and earthy that reminded me of the night after a hot day. In the dim light, his other arm stretched toward the window. I could almost make out the talons at the tips of his fingers. A pulse went through his body. Air or energy swept away from us.

  “Shut my mouth, that was amazing,” I whispered against his skin.

  Gris froze. “It didn’t scare you?” He seemed shocked. How could he be shocked that I was impressed? He had superpowers.

  “Scare me? Don’t be silly.” I tipped back and used my hands to explore his neck and chin more thoroughly. His mouth felt too firm to be real. What would it be like to kiss him while he was like this? Would he think it was too weird? Would I think it was too weird? While I was still thinking about it, I touched his cheeks and forehead. He made that purring sound deep in his throat that got under my skin like an itch wanting to be scratched. He liked to be touched. I liked touching him. He was so smooth.

  I hooked my hands behind his neck and pulled his mouth down while standing on my tiptoes. My mouth touched his and, for a moment, it was smooth and firm. Then, he yanked me tight against him while his hand slid into my hair, and he’d changed back to being just Gris.

  “Piper, what you do to me,” he whispered against my mouth. “I never…”

  I wasn’t sure what he’d planned to say, but I’d probably have agreed with it anyways. He held me tighter til my feet weren’t actually on the ground, and his tongue nudged my mouth open. For a brief moment, I wondered if that’s why he’d changed back ‘cause he was self-conscious, and then I forgot everything as he kissed me so deep I felt like he knew everything about me now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gris

  A blond strand of hair fell across her face, and she wrinkled her nose in her sleep. I slid it back into place and let my hand trail lightly down her cheek. It must’ve tickled because her nose wrinkled up again, and she scowled at me.

  Sitting on her bed, my back against her headboard, with her huddled up against my side all while trying to concentrate wasn’t working at all, but hell if I cared. In fact, I couldn’t bring myself to care if I ever accomplished another thing in my lifetime.

  She fidgeted briefly before rolling away from me, and then she scooted until
the curve of her back rested against my thigh. Then…the sigh. She sounded so peaceful now and then—which was odd in light of how often she moved in her sleep. Her fidgety, fretful nature didn’t change just because she was sleeping.

  I was about to say screw it and shut my laptop down when I saw an email from Dad. I’d sent him an abbreviated version of Piper’s list—and included Critch. As interesting as her reasoning was, I wasn’t putting either of our names on there…or my uncle or cousin’s. I‘d continue to investigate them by myself. My dad had more federal contacts, though—ones that could bypass the red tape of medical facilities and get into criminal databases.

  Let me know if you need me. Wrapping up things here. Your mom’s not taking her chick having flown the nest all that well. I think she needs a hobby. Or two. Maybe three. I haven’t mentioned your “neighbor” Piper or she’d have found her hobby.

  Okay. On to the important crap. Your list. That missing couple. I agree with you about the girl. No one who takes that many pictures of her lunches just walks away from the spotlight for no reason. No legal reason to stay hidden or under the radar—that all checked out. Then, there’s the boyfriend. His landlord closed on his place, claiming his stuff to pay off rent—made a killing on selling it off. From what I’ve gathered, he had a first-rate man cave going on. The boyfriend is wanted in connection with some minor stuff by the police but he’s always skated through. Something ugly happened. Not runaways, my gut says.

  What do you know about Pastor Green? Phil Laramie is in that institution, and the pastor there in town is a frequent visitor. Still checking more sources. Keep me in the loop.

  Be safe. Fly well, Dad.

  “Eighty-eight,” Piper whispered.

  “Hush now.” I rubbed the back of my hand across her temple. I walled the shadows around both of us while pushing against the perimeter of her room. Doing this periodically had seemed to keep the fiends away. Being this close to her was making it much easier. I wasn’t even transforming. Of course, this was the middle of the night—the strongest hours for Watchers, but this felt like some control. Earlier, when I’d been trying to hide my transformation and keep the fiends out, it had all felt impossible.

  I waited to feel some regret that I’d told her—that I’d shown her. I certainly wouldn’t have picked tonight, but I didn’t regret it. For once, it wasn’t as isolating to have something monstrous hidden inside me.

  Not only was she not scared, but she’d seemed amazed, in wonder. When she was touching me, I’d felt more powerful than when I was flying. My heart had been beating as hard as my wings against the sky and there’d been a rush—a huge rush. Then, she’d kissed me while I was transformed, and I could’ve done anything—anything. But I’d still wanted to be me. I’d snapped out of transform particularly fast; it’d stung my back as my wings tucked away.

  Piper rolled toward me in her sleep. Her hand slid up my thigh but stopped right when I was starting to realize I’d best stop it myself. Her fingers bunched up in the fabric of my cargo pants, and she blinked awake.

  “Hush, it’s just me, remember?” I said when she squinted around.

  “Oh, okay then.” She settled back down on the pillow, closing her eyes. “You ask too many questions.”

  She probably wasn’t awake enough to remember, but I decided to answer her anyway. “Even one is too many with you, Piper.”

  “So?” she grumbled. “What number was I on?”

  “Eighty-eight, I think.” I pushed little wisps of bangs away from her forehead.

  “Ninety.”

  “Ninety-two,” I added.

  This caused her forehead to wrinkle in confusion. “Stop it.”

  “I’m helping.”

  “Ninety-two, ninety-four, ninety-six—”

  “Ninety-eight.” Yeah. I was plain horrible for teasing her.

  “Nnnnnnngh,” she complained.

  I pulled the darkness tight around us.

  She sighed and dropped back into a silent sleep.

  See, other boyfriends couldn’t do that. Not that she could brag about it. I moved her hand away from my leg and kissed her knuckles. I could do this. Piece of cake. I shoved a persistent fiend backward. I might have to kill that one.

  With a sigh, I replied to my dad. Not yet. I could still handle things here on my own, and he might scare off Piper.

  Then again, she’d come face-to-face with a monster and kissed it.

  As suspected, there was one fiend out there who wasn’t leaving without a fight. I closed my laptop and set it on Piper’s nightstand. Sliding away from her was difficult—not physically—I managed that, but I missed being close to her almost immediately. I tucked the quilt around her, then turned, easing up on our wall of shadows.

  The fiend rushed in, eager for a chance at Piper. Its heart was dripping through my hands within seconds. A second fiend followed suit, and a third met the same fate.

  When I turned back, Piper was squinting at me. “That’s amazing,” she whispered.

  No regrets about telling her.

  A few seconds later, I slid back onto her bed, beside her. My wings were tucked away neatly, but I felt their presence, and for once, it didn’t make me feel more separate and alone. I wasn’t two creatures fighting for purchase in a single body. I was Gris, just as Piper was Piper. I was whole.

  “Fifty-eight,” Piper said.

  “Sixty.”

  “Shuddup.”

  …

  A familiar engine gunned in the early hours as somebody tore down the street in front of Piper’s house. I hadn’t killed a fiend in nearly an hour so I stashed my laptop below the bed and slipped out the window. I flew after the disappearing taillights of Hank’s truck, which I recognized from when he and his buddies had brought me my new sledgehammer.

  Hidden Creek was made up of winding dirt roads that curved and twisted all through the town. Flying a straight line meant I was waiting for him to arrive at the cemetery that was his obvious destination. A dark truck waited near the entrance under a copse of trees, not readily obvious, and Hank flashed his headlights as he went in, acknowledging them.

  Hank didn’t do confrontations without backup. I should’ve guessed as much.

  Trees and benches peppered the old cemetery, their paths as tangled and convoluted as Hidden Creek’s roads. I jumped from tree to tree, muffling my movements by drawing the darkness around me.

  Hank made no attempt to be secretive or sly. He slammed out of his truck and stalked through to a bench near the robbed grave. Hank didn’t sit at the bench. He paced beside it.

  Odd place for a meeting.

  The back of my neck prickled, and I swung around. Somebody was watching me as I watched Hank. I hadn’t heard the other truck door open. If I had to guess, whoever was watching me had arranged the meeting and had already been here.

  Either Hank saw my movements or felt the presence of somebody else, too, because he stopped pacing and stared into the shadows near me.

  This time, I pulled the darkness around me and disappeared into it while trying to be quiet as I snuck closer to Hank.

  “Hey!” Hank squinted and produced a flashlight. He ran the beam across the tombstones and trees. “I know you’re out there.” The light hopped around, the tall grave markers creating sinister dancing shadows. A small critter of some kind skittered away beside me. Hank’s light fixated on the spot where the rustling had sounded.

  My breathing felt loud, even with the night providing a chorus of creatures that hunted in darkness.

  “I’m fixin‘ to come find you and knock you into next week,” Hank shouted. “You know I’m good for it. I’ll do better than a broken nose—I’ll break your whole damn face.”

  Could he tell I was out here?

  Hank turned in a circle. “Hey, I’m not messin’ with you.” He waited a breath and then shouted, “And stay the hell away from her! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from her!”

  Behind me, from where the truck had be
en parked, I heard a vehicle start up and rumble toward us. What now?

  The truck shot through bushes and slammed into a tree, just outside the cemetery. One of the doors shot open, and Jared rolled out, screaming, tearing at his body, ripping his shirt off, not caring if his fingers scraped his skin as he did.

  “Jared? What are you—?” Hank ran a couple feet toward him, then paused before backing away from his supposed friend. Jared writhed on the ground, nearly shredding his skin in his anxiety to get the four fiends surrounding him off.

  The hell? Why were fiends attacking him?

  Crouching, I looked back and forth between them. No way could I keep this on the down-low if I swooped in, but I also couldn’t let Jared be killed right in front of me.

  His screaming was turning guttural with blood.

  Dammit.

  “What did you do? I told you to wait!” Hank shook his head, then bolted for his truck.

  Soon as he took off, I dove into the fight, yanking the fiends off Jared, whose defensive moves were slowing.

  They didn’t scramble away, but came back for more. They scraped me up as I killed them. I had to push out with my powers the entire time to keep them off me and the mangled body I was protecting. My phone was a casualty to the cause. It shattered into multiple pieces on a gravestone which seemed an appropriate demise. By the time I’d dispatched the final fiend, Jared was a moaning, nearly unconscious mound exuding sulfur, blood, and other bodily fluids.

  I went to the smoking truck and peered inside. An empty syringe lay on the bench seat. Had he shot up with something that attracted fiends? Beside the syringe was a phone. Perfect.

  Jared’s wounds seemed ragged and bloody, but not life-threatening. I called 911 while still transformed and gave the cemetery as the address before dropping the phone beside Jared. My conscience was still squawking about leaving him, so I set off the car alarm and waited behind a tree until a slew of sirens arrived. I lurked in the trees, wanting to know what they made of it. They bagged the syringe and took Jared off in an ambulance.